Chapter Text
1.
“So this is why you didn’t want me to come with you?”
Laura cocked her head, the wireless earbud hidden by her hair. The pub was a bit on the rough side: the kind you choose only when you’re running low on money, you don’t know where else to go, or you need to talk without being overheard; the kind of place where everybody minds their own business.
Laura lingered on the doorway just enough to spot her mark, letting Gabby get a good overview of the place through her sunglasses.
“Right, you can’t answer.” Her sister sighed. “It looks fun, though. Maybe we can go sometime?” A pause; Laura could almost hear her pout. “Fine, be that way. Daken would bring me with, he’d say it’s a formative experience.”
Daken wouldn’t be caught dead in this kind of establishment and would never expose Gabby to it and Gabby knew it, but that was all right; she was just trying to mask her worry.
They hadn’t heard from him in days and Laura was beginning to itch as well. It wasn’t out of character for him to go on radio silence – especially lately, with the rumors of Logan’s return – but he’d been meant to get in touch once he was finished investigating, and he’d never done that. As far as Laura knew, the last person that had seen him was in this pub… and had contacted Laura on her own, so Laura would give her the benefit of the doubt before attacking her.
“Creed isn’t here,” she whispered into the mic. “But be quiet.” She waded in the crowd, resolutely not looking at the T.V., that held most of the patrons’ attention. She caught a glimpse of the school, and what she heard was enough.
Vultures. She seethed, but Logan didn’t need her right now.
She sat opposite Deathstrike. “Where’s my brother?”
To her credit, the woman didn’t wince at her sudden appearance. In fact, she looked subdued; she was almost slouching in her seat, her hands below the table. This wasn’t a threatening gesture; Laura couldn’t smell the metallic scent of her unsheathed claws.
“Laura.” Deathstrike nodded at her. Her gaze shifted minutely, uncomfortably; if she’d been uneasy before, now Laura’s worry skyrocketed.
“What have you done with him, Deathstrike?” There was no need of threatening gestures from her; the woman knew very well the thin ice she was treading on.
“Nothing.” It was difficult, with her kind, but after weeks of forced cohabitation Laura was attuned to this specific cyborg’s tell-tale signs: she didn’t seem to be lying. “I swear. There was a… situation.” She paused. Laura forced herself to stay still, to not snap at her; that wouldn’t accomplish anything. “I assume you knew he was with me?”
“And Creed. Yes.” Laura gritted her teeth. She should have given Daken some backup, but with the chaos that were those last few days before Logan’s return, she hadn’t been able to. There had just been too many trails to follow, and Daken had said he could easily handle Creed and Deathstrike and whatever came their way, be it even Logan.
He’d been itching to do something, anything; the inaction was driving him crazy, the notion that Logan could be out there had marked him in ways Laura knew she couldn’t understand. And so she’d let him go without help, and now something had happened, and she’d never forgive herself.
Deathstrike tilted her head. “I would have contacted you earlier, but I needed to take care of something.” Her left hand emerged from under the table and Laura stared.
It wasn’t clear at first glance, but she had a new hand. There were lines just below her wrist, and if one looked closely, a few wires slipped through.
Something had cut her hand off, and she hadn’t healed.
Laura’s blood run cold. She heard Gabby’s voice in the earbud, asking what did Deathstrike mean, but she couldn’t answer. She had no answer – she didn’t want to have an answer.
“Explain,” she managed to say. Her voice sounded like gravel. Deathstrike looked away, her gaze seemingly captured by the T.V.
“We were looking for Logan,” she began. Her eyes turned into slits as she caught sight of him. From what Laura could hear, he was dispersing the crowd of journalists pestering the students, but she didn’t turn to check. “We knew Daken would be a liability – we thought he’d try to stop us – but we wanted to use him as a reverse Logan detector.”
Daken had counted on that. “Go on.”
“We ended up in some deserted town – but it wasn’t deserted. Someone was conducting experiments there, reviving people – we were attacked by zombies.” Laura ignored Gabby’s excited exclamation, her blabbering about her outing with Deadpool. Bless her, she still had no idea what was coming. “And there was something, a device – it shut our healing factors off. Mine still hasn’t returned. Daken –” Deathstrike grimaced. Laura knew the next words that would come out of her mouth before the woman even said them. “Creed saw him die.”
At least Gabby could scream. Laura felt she couldn’t react in any way, something cold and hard squeezing her stomach. Deathstrike seemed genuinely sorry, but that didn’t mean anything to Laura.
She took off her earbud, so she wouldn’t hear Gabby’s wailing anymore – though it broke her heart to do so. She needed to focus.
“You left him behind?” she questioned sharply. She knew that was a possibility, in the field; and there was no love lost between Daken and Creed, and if the situation had been as dire as Deathstrike was making it to be, their last thought would have been coming back for a corpse.
But Deathstrike had spoken of reviving experiments, and she knew as well as Laura what a feast Daken’s – God – Daken’s corpse would be.
No, he wasn’t dead. Laura feared that he was very much alive by now, and would be used as well.
Deathstrike sighed. “We had to. We destroyed the compound and hightailed the hell out of there. Creed was about to abandon me too, but he took me and dumped me to my Reavers. I haven’t seen him since.” She straightened up. “I did go back with the boys, once I was all in one piece. He deserved at least that,” she murmured, “but it was too late. There was no sign of Daken.” She grimaced. “I think –”
“They took him.”
“Yes.”
Silence fell; they let the chatter of the pub wash over them. Laura didn’t manage to speak yet, not quite. Deathstrike had done her a courtesy; Laura wouldn’t have expected the woman to go out of her way to get Daken back and then contact her, but then again, what they’d shared in Mystque’s clutches had seemed to build something between them all. Deathstrike was honoring that bond, perhaps; but ultimately, her motivations didn’t matter.
What mattered was that Daken had been taken again. He’d be used. She had to save him; and if he was dead, she had to retrieve his corpse and give him a burial where his rest couldn’t be disrupted.
“I need all your intel,” she said eventually, and Deathstrike nodded.
“Yes, of course.” She handed Laura a small pen drive. “It’s not much. Location, blueprints. The address where I stocked the pieces of the device that were still there. And – a name. Daken had heard them say a name, but I didn’t find anything about it. Soteira. I don’t know if it’s a company name, or something else.” She pursed her lips. “I’m sorry.”
She smelt like she was.
Laura pocketed the pen drive and the earbud. She could still hear Gabby’s crying coming from it. Her sister would be inconsolable; Laura would have to try and comfort her, when she had no words to comfort herself. If she stopped for a moment to truly think about it, she’d crumble; she had to keep on the move, keep focused on the job – find Daken.
Find him, and bring him home.
She stood up. “Thank you for calling me,” she said rigidly. Deathstrike bowed her head with a finality that shook Laura to the core.
This wasn’t the end. It couldn’t be. She’d find her brother; she’d save him. She had to.
She would.
Notes:
Next: Laura enlists help.
Chapter 2: Laura enlists help.
Notes:
Additional warnings: child in distress; mentions of filicide and alcoholism.
A few tags have been added up there in the box.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
2.
The world, apparently, hadn’t changed one bit.
A guy couldn’t come back from the dead without everyone he knew being harassed and questioned. Logan would have preferred to weather the whole “reviving after years” thing on his own, but Hank and ’Ro and Kitty and frankly everyone had been so damn worried – although relieved to see him again. They wanted to prod at him and understand what had happened, and while he wanted that too – he didn’t remember anything after his death, and the whole thing left a bad taste in his mouth, as if he’d regressed to his pre-M-day state – the situation, what with the constant presence of reporters on the front lawn, was starting to grate on his nerves.
Still, ’Ro had asked, and so he was staying.
There was so much to get reacquainted to, so much he’d missed – so much he’d lost. Not a day went by without him discovering something new. Scott was dead… and Jeannie was alive. They’d gone to war with the Inhumans. They were currently living in Central Park, for God’s sake.
Scott was dead, and Jeannie was alive. He didn’t know what had him reeling the most; but he hadn’t seen her yet, and he guessed that when that happened it would hit him harder.
There was an old counterpart of him going around, and meeting him had been like looking into a distorted mirror, and not liking at all what he saw.
Somewhere, M.I.A. and possessed by some alien entity, he had a son from an alternate reality. They still hadn’t found him, but they were looking.
That hit too close home in ways he was majorly uncomfortable with, and Logan tried not to think about it too much.
He resolutely didn’t think about what came to his mind whenever he did.
He was tired. He’d been examined and questioned by his oldest friends, but he had no answer for them. At some point there had even been talks of locking him up – Murdock was especially concerned – but the X-Men had opposed violently. They’d keep an eye on him, and that was it. He just had to trust them and wait, but that felt almost impossible to him.
He had no idea what had happened to him and he wanted some peace – and he couldn’t even have that. Today was just the last straw; seeing the kids trying to relax on the front lawn and being chased and interrogated by the media instead had sent his teeth on edge.
So he’d gotten out and given the jackals a piece of his mind; but that hadn’t helped that much. And the kids –
Ever since his return, they always looked at him with various degrees of awe and alarm; they walked on eggshells around him. He was a legend or a liability, no in-between; always dangerous, though, and no one dared approach him – especially not the new ones.
He needed a beer.
He resolutely ignored the audience he’d drawn – he spared a glance that he hoped would be reassuring for ’Ro – and stormed back inside, headed for the teachers’ kitchen. He didn’t want to succumb to old habits, but he was tired of being constantly overwhelmed, of not knowing. He hated everything about this.
As he approached the kitchen he heard gut-wrenching sobs coming from one of the lounges and he steered to a halt. It sounded like a kid – so he should at least check – but he smelled his old counterpart too, and Laura, so the situation was being handled.
Having made up his mind, he went for his destination; but he did slow down to get a glimpse into the room, just to see Laura – who wasn’t there.
Gabby. Right. Laura had been cloned, and Laura was mentoring the child. The kid was bright and chatty and had taken to him immediately, saying he would be like a honorary dad to her – his heart had almost given up at hearing that – and even managing to work in something that had sounded – if that could even be possible – like a cheerful threat: if he ever upset Laura, little Gabby would “end him”.
Nice kid, all things considered. It was nice to know Laura was taking care of someone like that; his heart swelled with pride. She’d grown up so much – it still startled him when he looked at her.
Laura was nowhere in sight – he’d obviously smelt the girl – so he felt compelled to at least ask what was going on.
He couldn’t have anticipated the wreck Gabby would turn into at his sudden appearance. She let out a wail and buried her face against the old man’s chest, who awkwardly patted her hair. He didn’t seem at all equipped to comfort a crying child – although that could be Logan’s strange, visceral dislike of him talking – so Logan took some more steps into the room.
“What happened, sweetheart?” he said softly, wondering if that would even work on her. He was, after all, a stranger; she knew the old one best. Perhaps he should locate one of the others, or try to contact Laura, but he felt morose; he could be of use. He could help. He could be there for his family, damn it all. He felt the need to make up for the lost time. Kids grew so fast. He couldn’t support Laura anymore; if anything, she seemed to have taken the reins and turned into a confident adult. She was among his rescuers, one of the first faces he’d seen, and he’d never forget how stunning a sight she made.
Gabby still hadn’t answered; he sat on the nearest couch and exchanged a glance with the old man, who just grimaced and held her tighter, her tiny body wracked by sobs.
“Sweetheart?” Logan motioned for her, and when the old man didn’t shake his head, he touched lightly her shoulder.
The girl bawled and turned on the spot, launching herself at him, fists balled around his shirt, yanking fiercely. It took a while to understand what she was muttering. “I’m so sorry, it’s not right, it’s not right, I’m so sorry –”
At his questioning glance, the old man just grimaced more. He aborted a motion – he’d seemed to be going for Logan’s shoulder – and heaved a sigh.
“Better wait for Laura,” he grumbled. “She’ll make more sense. Don’t cross that bridge yet. Try to keep level-headed, son.” The look he gave Logan was pensive and speculative.
“I’m you,” Logan retorted stupidly, stuck on the last word the man had used.
“Sure hope you don’t live through what I lived through.” With a groan, the old man stood up. “Hold steady.” This time, he did clasp his shoulder, leaving Logan waiting for the other shoe to drop. Something was obviously wrong here, and he had no clue.
Still, he didn’t dare to ask, not with the girl so heart-broken in his arms; and they stayed frozen like that for a while, until Laura came.
She appeared in the doorway like a vengeful goddess. She smelt distinctly upset and there was fire in her eyes, but she smoothed her features into a soft, reassuring mask as she came over and sank to her knees next to Gabby, all her attention focused on the girl. Logan and the old man might as well not have existed.
“Gabby,” she murmured quietly. “Gabby.”
The kid turned in Logan’s arms. Her eyes were red and puffy, her face blotchy. The sight squeezed Logan’s heart. She was so small and must have lived through hell already; what could have upset her so much?
Laura’s presence seemed to do the trick; Gabby stopped sobbing, though she was still wailing. She stared helplessly as Laura caught her hands and spoke gently. “It’s going to be all right. We’re going to find him, and we’re going to save him.”
The child sniffled.
“Do you hear me, Gabby? We’ll save him. We’ll bring him back home.”
“Promise?” The girl’s voice was faint, wrecked.
A shadow passed over Laura’s face, but it was gone quickly, replaced by a steely confidence he hadn’t ever seen on her. This wasn’t a child weapon gritting her teeth to do what was asked of her, but a parent, or an aunt, comforting her ward.
She made him so proud.
“Promise.” Only decades of experience allowed him to hear the quiver in Laura’s voice. Gabby hadn’t certainly heard it, because she offered a tremulous smile and flung herself at Laura.
His daughter embraced Gabby lightly, a hand caressing her back, the other running over her hair. Now that she wasn’t looking confidently at the kid, she let go for a moment, letting him and the old man see the haunted look in her eyes. Once again, Logan wondered what was happening. He knew he wouldn’t like it, but it was family, and he’d be there. They talked about a him – had they found the boy, perhaps? Jimmy?
Laura locked gazes with the old man and something passed between them; he nodded, and her shoulders sagged in relief for a fraction of a second. It hurt, just a little bit, that she had that with someone else now; that she didn’t turn to Logan for help.
But it amazed him too.
Then she turned to Logan, and there was a quiet determination in her eyes that, for a moment, made cold dread run through his veins.
She seemed to have taken a decision; she lightly patted Gabby on her back and slowly extricated herself from the vicious hold. “Go with Old Logan, Gabby. I need to talk with Logan.”
The kid winced. She threw a strange, tortured, but ultimately hopeful glance at him and then took the old man’s hand.
When the door closed softly behind them, Laura sighed heavily. She leaned on an armrest as she hoisted herself up and then she sat down on the couch opposite Logan.
He didn’t like her expression at all. She seemed to be holding herself together with some tremendous effort, and he didn’t want that for her. He’d never wanted it, but she’d had to grow up while he was gone, and now she probably thought she had to take it all upon her shoulders.
That wouldn’t do. He was here now. He was back, and he’d help.
“Talk to me,” he said encouragingly. “Talk me through it. I’ll help.”
She scoffed, taking him aback. Before he had the time to ask her the meaning of it, she shook her head, passed a hand through her hair. On her face were lines he hadn’t noticed before; creases of worry, hard and terrible.
“This wasn’t,” she paused and shut her eyes briefly. “It wasn’t how I wanted to tell you the news. It would need careful planning and I was sure you’d go at each other’s throats and it would have taken weeks just to have him agree. I wanted to make this work,” she added a little desperately. Logan, still out of his depth, nonetheless felt a foreboding shiver run down his spine. “That’s why I didn’t – we didn’t tell you. I knew you’d be difficult too,” she said in an almost, not-quite-there venomous tone that surprised him as much as the scoff. “And now –” she trailed off, and she was just as lost and scared as when he’d first met her.
“Laura.” He held up a hand as he’d done so many years ago, when he’d first met her; as he did when he confronted a skittish deer. “Just tell me what’s happening.”
She reacted to that as if it were an order, the words seemingly pulled out of her mouth. “Your son needs help.”
There was a pit of dread in his stomach, but he refused to acknowledge it. “You found Jimmy?”
The furious light was back in her eyes. “No, not the son you haven’t fucked up yet,” she said evenly. “Daken. Daken needs help.”
He bit back the protestation that was almost out of his lips – lies, excuses, his old surge of guilt and abject relief, he had fucked up the boy but he’d had to – and the questions – when and how had Daken gotten so close with Laura, with Gabby? – and strived not to disappoint his daughter further. “What happened?”
She nodded as if he’d confirmed something, and maybe he had. “That’s hearsay, but it won’t be for long. Hank’s on it and we’ll go check as soon as you’re ready – they’re ahead of us as it is, time is of the essence.” She stood up as she talked and he didn’t interrupt her for clarification, knowing she was getting to it – fearing to see that side of her again. Dreading to see a Laura that didn’t think so highly of him anymore. “He was murdered. His body’s gone and, from witness report, I’m almost sure he was taken by the ones who had you. Soteira.”
Just the name made him want to retch. He didn’t remember anything, but whenever he heard the word – when he was asked if he knew who or where they were, what they wanted – he always found himself covered in cold sweat.
Kitty had showed him a video of him. It seemed he’d been working for this Soteira group as an assassin and that he’d done it willingly – and he didn’t remember anything of it. It was a miracle he’d been let go at all; for a while he’d feared there was something inside him to make him a sleeper agent, but Rachel had checked and then dismissed that possibility. He was clean.
He’d simply been let go – and now that he knew whoever had him now had his son, he could venture a guess as to why.
Laura was looking at him; he tried to radiate composure. “They can’t have him,” he said quietly. The mere thought that his son – his wayward, complicated son – had been taken by the same shadows that had held him, that had revived and used him… who knew what could they do to him? Who knew what he could be persuaded to do, without any nudging on Soteira’s part?
Logan would look for him, but not only because Laura was asking or because he was his son.
But because, if what he found was something too monstrous to live, he’d have to put it down again.
It was a burden he wouldn’t put on anyone else; certainly not Laura, that seemed to care deeply for Daken.
But she didn’t know him, not really. Not like Logan.
This was on him, and he’d take care of it.
Notes:
Next: The asset wakes up.
Chapter 3: The asset wakes up.
Notes:
Additional warnings: non-linear narrative, suicidal thoughts, past conditioning.
Oh, and obviously we're going AU. I won't follow canon; I'm terribly disappointed in today's Dead Ends.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
3.
He came to.
He was. There was something, something, something he’d forgotten. A flutter, a warmth, faraway.
[L-La-Lau–]
He was. He breathed and walked and sat down and run and fought. Killed. Slick, hot, wet blood.
He was. He fought. His state of being was – nebulous. He fought. He was a fighter. A killer. They – someone – wanted him to
[not again not again n o t a g a i n]
kill people. It was his job. He was good at that –
[very good at that, so very good, what a good boy]
He was so very good at that. They liked that. His masters
[no no no no not again]
were ecstatic. He was being – assessed. Yes. He was being assessed so he had to be very good and show off his skills. He liked to show off his skills. It gave warmth and recognition and –
[nonsense. Sentiment. Fight for yourself, not to vie for a pat in the back, pathetic -]
Confusion. He was defective. He broke off and that was not good, a liability in the field. Stop and stare into distance. Something wasn’t working. He was more susceptible than Wolverine, but the underlying whatever-it-was got in the way too.
[flicker. Almost got it, but no. No]
Had to reprogram. It would take more time than Wolverine. Walk and walk and walk and walk and lie down and rest. We’ll take care of this. We’ll have him up and running in no –
He came to. He was.
He was, he was, he was, he was, he was, he was…
[Leave me alone, leave me alone, let me die, god let me die]
… he was, he was, he was, he was, he was, he was, he was –
Jesus Christ, put him under. What the –
He came to. He was.
Was he going to work now? He looked fine. Better than yesterday.
Jesus, yesterday.
What the fuck was that, man?
He was going to work because it was what he was. He worked. Fought. Killed. There was no other life. That was what he was made to do. Be useful. He was a very good boy who knew his place: follow orders and follow them well.
Okay, I’ll take that for now. Release the others.
Coming at him. He was being assessed. Being assessed was important because your value influenced how much you got to eat and rest to be functional. A good weapon needs sleep and food, a sloppy weapon gets none of that because it must get better first. Blood. Blood, blood, blood. That’s the way of life. He needed to be very, very good because he was being assessed.
He was covered in blood and guts. He was good. A good boy.
Well, that’s – okay. I can work with that. We can work with that, right?
As long as it gave them results he could call himself the Queen of England for all they cared.
Was he aware? He seemed not quite there. Could he work, say, undercover? Could he retain basic independence? If all they wanted was canon fodder, they’d have stuck to cloning.
Clo–
[Laura? Laura. Gabby. Gabby Gabby Gabby Laura Laura Laura Laura oh god help, help –]
[blood blood blood blod and guts all over him, he was, he was being used]
[Someone help me oh god please someone, Laura, Laura, Laura]
[what was, what were, where was –]
[stupid, idiot, fight back, fight back you have weapons, stupid idiot boy fight back, fight back, fight back, you can, you –]
Put him under.
[won’t take you alive, defective, won’t be used by none other than me]
[no no no no no no no no]
Jesus Christ, put him under!
[not again not again not a g a i n]
[let me die!]
Now, now -!
He came to. He was.
He was a good boy. A good soldier. A good weapon. He did what he was told.
Targets. Slow. Easy. Blood. All dead.
He was good. He was the best.
Exhilarated laughter. Yes he was. God, they were starting to think they should have stuck with Wolverine.
Was he under control now? No more glitches?
Supposedly. They should monitor him for a while yet, before sending him out. Just to be sure.
There was no need for that because he was good. He was amazing. But his masters knew best, of course.
Was he aware? Fully operational? Capable of critical thinking?
Of course he was. He was the best. Trained to be. Could plan in a second. Outsmarted gods.
Oh, I want to hear that story one of these days. All right, gentlemen, we’ve got ourselves a new asset. Who are you, boy?
Akihiro. Daken.
And what will you do for us, boy?
Whatever you want.
That’s right. Damn right. He’ll do whatever we want because he’s such a good boy.
He was.
Snickers.
All right, that’s a wrap, gentlemen. Put him under, will you? The boy needs his rest, after all.
Seriously, what’s up with th–
He came to. He was.
Status: waiting for assignment.
Notes:
Next: Laura reveals something to Logan.
Chapter 4: Laura reveals something to Logan.
Notes:
Additional Warnings: mentions of filicide and suicidal behavior.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
4.
There was nothing to find anymore.
The location – an abandoned town – had been swept up. She’d thought they could still find something Deathstrike hadn’t noticed; it was worth the try. But they hadn’t found anything yet, and Laura was beginning to think they wouldn’t.
They were searching the area in pairs – going alone would have been quicker but more dangerous – and, so far, she’d just managed to smell Creed and someone that smelt like him. In the other half of the town, Old Logan said he smelt Daken and Deathstrike too, in some warehouse. Logan had crunched up his nose at that, but he hadn’t said anything. Good. She thought she was very close to snapping at him.
It was uncharitable of her to feel that way, perhaps; but Logan had no idea of what had happened while he was gone, what they’d all been through. His mind was made already; and holding explanations off was dangerous.
This wasn’t ideal. It should have gone so differently; she should have sat him down to explain how she and Daken had come to care for each other, the things that had happened. But the jet or these empty streets weren’t the place for that, nor did she want Gabby to be present for that conversation; and so she’d have to wait for their return at the school. She only hoped Logan waited before he jumped to some twisted conclusion.
But she’d seen how out of depth he was. He looked taken aback at the mere notion of Laura caring for Daken; and he’d stared in shock when Gabby had jumped into the jet in Old Logan’s wake, stating firmly she’d come with because Daken needed her too.
When Laura had first said that Daken was in trouble, Logan had visibly recoiled. His first thought had been for a son he’d never known, not for the one he already had; that had stung deep. She wanted to snarl at him – but Logan had his problems too. The only reason why she hadn’t torn at him yet was that he’d just returned from the dead; that he’d been violated for months, maybe years, and no one had even noticed. She felt she’d failed him; but at least he was back now, and fine – or as fine as he could be – and so she’d worry about Daken.
She’d have to sort out her feelings later. When she found Daken. Then she’d have the time to understand how to feel about Logan, especially in the wake of Stark’s revelation; but not now.
Logan came to a halt. He was a few steps ahead of her – she’d let him take charge, let him feel useful – and he was sniffing at the wreckage of a pick-up. When she came closer, she understood why.
Logan didn’t turn as she approached. “They came together,” he said quietly. The calmness was merely apparent; if he’d had hackles, they’d have stood on end. “Explain to me why Daken was with Creed and Yuriko?” Oh, he had his own idea already: his good-for-nothing son, associating himself with scum.
She hadn’t explained the identity of the informant exactly because of that, but it was only a matter of time before he smelt the truth, before he asked. Once again, she cursed herself for not sitting him down earlier, but there hadn’t been time for that before coming here.
Laura reached him in front of the pick-up. It seemed that Daken had travelled in the back. “They wanted to kill you. Daken went with them to stop them from doing that if they did find you.”
She knew that wouldn’t be enough – that Logan wouldn’t believe it – as soon as the words came out of her mouth. Logan released a small puff of air – amusement, disbelief? – and turned to look at her.
“Daken was to protect me?” His eyes were a bit sad; he seemed almost to feel sorry for her, as if he thought she’d fallen for his deviant son’s tricks.
She crossed her arms. “Yes,” she said, daring her to contradict her here and now. “He was.”
She’d hoped he could at least trust her judgement, but she saw now that it had been wishful thinking. Well, there was nothing for it. They had to have this conversation eventually.
She’d just hoped not to have to on a tight schedule, when every minute lost meant Daken spending a minute more in the hands of unscrupulous monsters.
He sighed. “Laura –”
“You don’t believe me.” She nodded – not to confirm his doubts, but to acknowledge them. “You don’t believe it possible. You can’t fathom how the son you drowned in a puddle could possibly want to protect you.” He winced at that reminder, but she hadn’t said it out of malice; it was, perhaps, a legitimate doubt. She had to remember that Logan had been gone for so long: the last he knew of Daken was that his son hated him. “He moved on, Logan. He had to; we all had to. He’s grown.” And oh, how she wished she could show Logan how much, how beautifully Daken was growing. He was trying – it was a hard road, but he was willing to try. He trusted Laura to hold his hands.
“He beat me up, Laura.” Logan was shaking his head. “When he was revived, when I was captured, he was working with the Apocalypse twins. They captured me, and he… he beat me up while I was down, Laura. You do know it, I remember I told you –”
“He was under the influence of a Death Seed,” she said patiently, as patiently as she’d explained the X-Men after his recent attack at the school. Only Iceman had appeared willing to believe her, and had seemingly done the math already, if his letting Daken go was anything to go by. He’d even gotten rid of the Death Seed, and while Daken had no intention to thank him, Laura knew her brother was relieved.
Logan turned to lean against the pick-up while he worked his jaw. He seemed desperate to sway her his way, but he wouldn’t succeed. She knew her brother far more than Logan had ever known his son, too caught up in self-hatred to perceive anything else.
“The boy hates me, Laura,” Logan finally settled on something he was sure he could always cling to. “With good reasons, at least now,” he added quickly, before she could retort. “I know. I killed him and we’ll never come back from that. If I could have handled things differently… I would have. But I had intel, Laura, intel telling me he’d murder the students –”
“Hearsay, from a future you couldn’t even know if it truly was ours in the first place,” she said firmly, and he hung his head, because he knew it was true. Then she softened her voice, because fair was fair. They’d talked about it, Daken and her. She’d wanted to understand and she’d eventually managed to earn his trust. And what he hadn’t told her, she’d gleaned. “I understand it was a tough call, Logan. He’d hurt Evan badly, and he was goading you –” No, she wouldn’t say that Daken had been suicidal far before Logan’s death; it wasn’t her place. If Logan hadn’t understood yet, perhaps some day he would. “I’m telling you that he moved past that. He’s different now – more at peace. If you could meet him, talk to him, you’d see.” Her throat closed; as of now, that was wishful thinking as well.
They had to find him soon. They had to save him.
Logan seemed similarly affected, at least a bit; there was a grimace on his face, and he squeezed his eyes shut. “You said it would be difficult to arrange a meeting. Doesn’t seem like the boy moved past it at all – and he shouldn’t.” He shook his head; when he opened his eyes, he was his usual stubborn self. He’d see what he wanted to see, and she couldn’t allow it. The least she could do was to make it so that when they found Daken – not if, when – Logan would be receptive, wouldn’t throw in the towel just because he thought Daken was beyond his reach.
“After you died,” she began, hoping Daken would forgive her for this transgression, “there was an auction, in Madripoor. They were selling pieces of you – blood, two claws.” She paused, but Logan just stood there and listened quietly. It must be jarring – although not surprising – to hear how people had jumped to the opportunity to create their own super-soldier.
It was like Soteira had done, after all – even though they’d gone after the source itself.
And then they must have decided that it wasn’t enough… that having Daken at their disposal would be better.
Laura gritted her teeth and resumed her tale, hoping to get through to Logan, to make him see. Hoping he’d at least try.
“Daken stopped the auction,” she said quietly. “He crashed it, really. He made an example of the attendants, killing almost all of them. He made it clear that no one was to disturb your rest; rumors followed quickly, and no one dared trying anything for a good while –” She broke off, because Logan’s breathing had changed.
His eyes were closed, his expression pained; he was, maybe, thinking back on the hole in his memory. Soteira obviously hadn’t heeded the warning, and this story only went to further his distress. She hadn’t wanted to make him think of it; she couldn’t have worked around it, but she should have trodden with more caution.
And yet, this tale was the one Logan needed to hear. She could regale him with what had come after, with events that had brought her closer and closer with Daken; but none of that would graze Logan if he wasn’t presented with tangible proof. He’d always think that Daken had a hidden agenda in befriending her, that he’d ultimately betray her; he needed to hear this.
She caught Logan’s hand. It was different enough from what she’d have done when Logan was alive that he was startled from his state, and he opened his eyes. His gaze landed far away as he pretended to scan the horizon.
“So he didn’t want me back,” he croaked, and she’d have snatched her hand away at that, at seeing what he chose to take from the story. But she wasn’t finished yet, and she was battling with years of crushed hope and shattered dreams: Logan had clashed with Daken enough times to be too afraid to let himself believe anything anymore.
She squeezed Logan’s hand. “He needed those remains. He held a funeral for you,” she murmured. Logan’s heart skipped a beat, and he held his breath almost imperceptibly. “A traditional Shinto funeral – all twenty steps. I wasn’t there, we weren’t close yet, but I met the priest during one of the memorial services Daken invited me to.” She held Logan’s rapt attention; she didn’t dare to look him in the eyes for fear of breaking the spell, but he was listening, and he was touched, and he didn’t know if he could let himself believe, if he could let himself hope that not all was lost. “He has this beautiful little shrine. Your urn has a photo of you, and –” here, she hesitated. It was personal; deeply personal, just as much as her own mother’s funeral. She didn’t think Daken would have wanted any of this to be known by Logan, at all; but she had to get through to their stubborn father, and needs must. “There’s another urn, empty, right next to yours. It has a small hand-made picture of a woman. He told me –”
“Itsu,” Logan said with reverence. “He put me with his momma.” There was wonder in his voice and he lowered his head.
She let go of his hand. She wouldn’t – couldn’t – intrude.
She’d done what she could; she’d tried to make Logan see. Now it was up to him to open his eyes, to be there when they found Daken. To not give up.
She feared what they’d find. A corpse? A mindless vessel? When they managed to save him, to break whatever control Soteira had on his mind, the road to recovery would be steep. Daken would hate himself – for his capture, for being used. He’d berate himself for allowing himself to be used, as if he had a say in the matter… and Laura would be there for him, and Gabby too, and Logan needed to be there as well. To be there for his son. Logan had so many friends, so many people trying to make him heal after Soteira, and Daken – Daken had just them. He had just his family, and they’d close ranks around him.
She’d do anything in her power to protect him. To insure he was granted the same leeway Logan had been given after his return. She was willing to face the whole superhero community, if needed – but Logan’s help would smooth things.
He had to believe in the possibility of Daken’s recovery, because otherwise, things would be much harder than they would certainly already be.
She moved some feet away and discreetly contacted Old Logan and Gabby. The man said they’d almost covered all of Laura and Logan’s ground too, and that they hadn’t found anything. They’d located where Soteira’s jet had probably parked – Daken’s trail ended there – but that was it.
Laura bit the inside of her cheek. So now their only hope for intel were the X-Men and the others already searching for Soteira. They had to get back and lean on Pryde’s good will. If they didn’t have Logan’s support…
She looked at her father. He still hadn’t moved, but she was sure he’d been listening. She made her way back to him. “We need to leave. We’re only wasting time here.”
“Yeah.” Logan nodded and opened his eyes – his gaze was hard, unrelenting, sure.
Her heart leapt to her throat. She’d gotten through to him. He was in, for real this time. He’d help her. He’d help Daken.
“Let’s get back,” he said. “I think I know a way to find some more information.”
Notes:
Next: Logan seeks help.
Chapter Text
5.
“Are you sure about this, Logan?” Rachel asked him.
As if he had any choice. This was the surest he’d ever been in his life: his boy needed him, needed his help; and Logan would do everything in his power to find him, to save him.
It was the least he could do.
Even if it meant to dive into the mess they’d done to his mind. Somewhere, buried deep, there might be answers that would help locate where he’d been kept, and with some luck, that place might not have been abandoned yet. They might find someone to interrogate.
They might even find Daken himself. And then –
Logan would to everything in his power to help him. He had to.
Logan met Rachel’s gaze and nodded. “Yeah. Do it.”
She grimaced. “It might hurt you. They did some complex, layered work, Logan. I’d hoped to pick at it slowly –”
“We don’t have that kind of time,” he interrupted her. He glanced at Laura, who stood still and silent and pale. She’d expressed the very same doubts as Rachel, but she’d finally agreed that this was their best shot.
The mere idea of the kind of damage he could sustain if they were wrong, if they tripped a landmine – he feared what he could become, what he could do. But this was the best way to proceed. He was sure of it. Oh, sure, the others were investigating, working on what little scraps they’d managed to find; but they were on a clock, and if Logan could contribute with something substantial – hell, he’d do it. Even if it meant being permanently brain damaged.
Rachel sighed. “That’s exactly what I’m trying to avoid, Logan.” He heard the sadness in her voice, the sympathy. “I can’t simply barrel in –”
“I’m asking you to.” He turned to face her again. “Rachel, it’s my son. I can’t leave him in their hands. You shouldn’t want that either,” he added desperately, “You’ve seen what I did -”
“What they made you do,” Laura said quietly. He shook his head.
“Regardless.” Now wasn’t the time to make excuses for himself. They had to focus on finding Daken. “They’ll use him for what they were using me for – assassinations, coups maybe.” They still didn’t know Soteira’s ultimate goal, but it couldn’t be good. “We have to find him, and be quick about it.”
Rachel hung her head. “I do agree with you, Logan. I just wish –”
“We don’t want to put unnecessary strain on you.”
Logan turned, even though scent and voice already told him who’d just joined them. Kitty was still phasing the wall, only half of her body visible. Rachel must have called her; Logan didn’t like her going behind his back like this.
“No need to worry, Kitty,” he told the martial woman who had so little in common with the girl he remembered. So many things had changed, and not all of them for the better. “I know what I’m doing.”
Kitty settled where she stood, her arms crossed. “We’re doing what we can, Logan. We’re analyzing the data we have, what Laura gave us. We’re doing everything in our power to find Soteira –”
“And Daken.” Laura spoke quietly, but something in her voice spooked Logan. She wasn’t calm – anything but. Her posture seemed relaxed enough, he supposed, but her gaze was hard as she considered Kitty. Kitty met her gaze unflinchingly.
“Yes,” she conceded. “And Daken. But I see no need to put Logan through that –”
“No, you don’t, do you?” Laura took a step forward, very calmly, and still emanating such an aura that Logan almost felt the physical need to take a step back. But Kitty stood her ground.
They looked like generals about to parley, not teammates. He didn’t like that; but he did wonder at how sure of herself Laura had become.
She picked her words with care, speaking slowly but surely. “Unnecessary strain, you said. I can’t shake off the feeling you see my brother as disposable. That’s not how it is, is it, Pryde?” She held her chin high.
Kitty grimaced as if Laura hadn’t hit that far off the mark. This alarmed him. He couldn’t take that: his son needed help. He’d thought his people, his friends, would help him find him, but now Rachel refused to, and Kitty vetoed it – and he didn’t like how that made him feel. A stranger in his own home, navigating hierarchies he knew nothing about.
He should just leave and look for Daken on his own, but he knew he needed help. He couldn’t do it alone, not this time. Not with no intel to begin with.
“Kitty,” he began. She still hadn’t said a word, and he hoped to win her over. “Let me do this. I could remember something substantial, important. And time –”
“- is of the essence, yes.” Kitty briefly shut her eyes. “People could be dying as we speak, I know. But I don’t fancy losing you again over this, Logan. You heard Rachel. It could damage –”
“That is my choice.” He clenched his jaw. Let him do something, for crying out loud. Let him be of use, let him help his son, instead of cowering in a corner, safe and pampered, when Daken was going through what he’d gone through!
“And we, as your friends, are telling you that’s a bad idea,” Kitty said firmly. “You need to rest,” she added softly, almost as an afterthought. “Heal. Let Rachel help you with that. We’ve got this.” She eyed Laura. “And you know better than this, Laura. You’re too involved to think straight –”
Now Laura did look murderous, her eyes flashing in a way he’d often seen with Daken. She was rubbing off on him, maybe? Logan could only hope the reverse was true as well.
“This is my father and brother we’re talking about,” she said, no trace of her obvious turmoil in her voice. It shook Logan to hear her speak like that – to hear her pronounce their ties so clearly, with pride. To hear her name him her father, name Daken her brother. She’d carved a family for herself; she’d grown. He loved her so. “Of course I’m involved,” Laura threw a glance at him, “of course I’m worried this could damage Logan. Do you know what else I’m worried about?” She didn’t let Kitty answer; she barreled in, voicing the fear she’d already managed to pass on to Logan through her wording, her confrontationality. The thought he didn’t want to face but was forced to acknowledge at seeing the hard lines of Kitty’s face. “I’m worried you’ll find Daken, and deem the damage too grave. I’m worried you’ll only see a threat and act accordingly and call it mercy. Say I’m wrong, Pryde.” She paused. “Say it, and I’d probably still not believe you.”
Kitty pursed her lips. “We’ll help him, obviously. If we find him, we’ll –”
“Will you?” Laura cocked her head. “I find that hard to believe. I find it hard to believe you’ll grant him the same leniency you’ve granted Logan, me, countless others. You think he’s irredeemable, and you won’t waste resources on him. You won’t risk losing Logan over this,” she quoted Kitty, emphasizing the last two words.
“Logan is my friend,” Kitty countered. “Our friend. And your brother, Laura, isn’t some innocent little thing –”
“He’s not a thing,” Logan found himself growling. He didn’t like where this was going. He didn’t like it one bit. Hell, no one better than him knew how dangerous Daken was – all the things he’d done. But Kitty was being recklessly callous, and this was his son she was talking about – his son she was refusing to help.
Her gaze softened as she looked back at him. “No, of course not. None of you are. But Daken –”
“I assure you,” Laura interrupted her, “we’re both well aware of my brother’s shortcomings. Are you aware of his accomplishments? Of how hard he’s been working…” She trailed off, shook her head. “This is beside the point.”
Kitty sighed. She passed a hand over her eyes. “Laura, I… I know he’s helped you. And I know he’s helped against Mothervine. You want to believe the best of him, I understand that. He’s your brother and it’s natural you care for him –”
“I said that’s beside the point.” Laura’s gaze hardened further. “This is a mutant, Pryde. A mutant who has been kidnapped and will be used against his will – and you, as leader of the X-Men, should be against that.”
“Of course I’m against that –” Kitty exploded, exasperated.
“Not to mention,” Laura kept on, “This mutant will be forced to kill people. Innocent citizens. You should worry about that too.”
“Laura, I’m aware of all this,” Kitty said forcefully. Laura trailed off, allowing her to speak. “And I said we are working on it. We’ll find him, and do everything in our power to collect him. We will help him, I promise.” She tried to look reassuring, but Laura wasn’t having it.
“And yet,” Laura said softly, “you won’t let us contain the damage. The sooner we find him, the lesser will have be done to him and by him. You know that. And if Logan were to remember something important –”
Kitty clenched her jaw. “I can’t, in good conscience, let Logan hurt himself over this. That’s final.”
She spoke as if she believed he’d just stay put and do as she said. He’d have followed her gladly in any other thing, and he ached to see her in action, as a leader; but he had no intention to play by her rules in this. There were always other telepaths –
But one of them was still in the room, with them. Although she hadn’t said a word ever since Kitty’s arrival, Rachel hadn’t left; and she must have heard his thoughts. Would she denounce him to Kitty?
Sure enough, he heard her inhale to speak. He exchanged a glance with Laura and she nodded; she wouldn’t be deterred by anything they said. They’d have to restrain the both of them to stop them.
“Kitty,” Rachel said slowly, hesitantly, and Logan rejoiced, because that didn’t sound like her wanting to back Kitty up.
Had they managed to sway her?
Kitty’s gaze went past him to the telepath. She was grimacing; she’d heard that too. “What?”
“They’re right.” Rachel sighed. “It’s irresponsible not to pursue every trail available. If there’s even a slim chance that Logan can lead to Soteira quicker, we should take it. We can’t let one of us in such hands any longer.”
One of us. Logan’s heart swelled. To hear Daken dubbed so by a friend was different than hearing it from Laura. She was family; she had no choice but to love him. Rachel didn’t have such an obligation, especially in the wake of what Daken must have done in Logan’s absence – he was gleaning things, here and there; Daken must have been active. He’d helped with some things, according to Kitty, but her words spoke of an animosity that couldn’t merely date back to the damage he’d done while Logan was still alive; so many years had passed. He must have done something else, if Kitty thought he was irredeemable.
So to hear Rachel count Daken among her people, their people, reassured Logan more than what Laura had already managed to.
Kitty pinched the bridge of her nose. “You said it might damage Logan.”
“Yes. If I’m on my own.” Rachel took a few steps to join them. “But a concerted action could prevent that. If I coordinate with others, if we tread carefully –” she cocked her head. “I’m positive we could do that without any lingering damage in Logan’s brain.” She smiled gently at him. “We’re positive.”
He couldn’t suppress a shiver. He had a feeling he knew who she meant – and he wasn’t sure he was ready to face that.
But for his son, he must.
“We. You’re in contact already?” Kitty sighed; there was fondness in her voice. “Why did you even bother to call me in?” Then her gaze hardened. “Are you sure he’ll be safe?”
Rachel nodded, her expression equally serious. “We’ll do out damnedest best.”
“All right. I trust you, Ray.” Kitty still didn’t sound convinced – but she’d apparently concede. He was glad of that. He’d been ready to estrange her, but he’d have done so begrudgingly.
There was, for a moment, something incredibly soft in Rachel’s eyes as she nodded at Kitty again, but he blinked and it was gone. Then the woman was before him, clasping his hand. “Let’s go, Logan.” And she started leading him away. Laura fell into step immediately and they left Kitty there.
“Where are we going?” Laura asked. She furrowed her brow as she fished her phone from her pocket. “I’m going to text Gabby the news.” The girl was with his old counterpart, as Laura hadn’t wanted her to witness what could turn out to be right unpleasant.
“Betsy’s room,” Rachel threw over her shoulder. He steered to a halt and Laura did the same. He’d seen Betsy; he’d managed not to do a double take only because he’d been warned about what had happened to her whilst searching for him. She hadn’t seemed to be in top form, and he couldn’t blame her; would she be up to the task?
Not to mention she had fought Daken together with Logan. She’d seen Daken at his worst. Could they really trust her with his son’s fate? Logan trusted her with his own life, of course, but could he take such a chance?
Rachel seemed to get his conundrum. “She needs something to do, Logan, just as much as you. And you know she doesn’t strike unless given good reason,” she added quietly.
Yeah, he knew that. She had a strong moral code. He was ashamed of thinking so lowly of her, even if for a moment.
Laura’s hand brushed against his arm. “She’s right,” she said serenely. “We can trust her.” There was a waver in her voice – he’d told her what had happened with Daken at the time, so she must have shared his same concerns now – but she sounded ultimately convinced.
They resumed their walking.
“I doubt it’s going to be just Braddock,” Laura said after a while. “Have you enlisted your mother?” Again, Logan couldn’t prevent the shiver running through his spine. He recalled stabbing an empty shell at the North Pole, over and over and over again. If he focused, he could still feel the blood on his hands, the hate on her face.
Not her face.
“Yeah,” Rachel murmured. “She teleported in.” She threw Logan a undecipherable glance. “If you need a moment –”
“My son doesn’t have a moment.” He soldiered on; he had to. The ensuing silence was difficult to break; Laura squeezed his shoulder. They navigated the corridors until, finally, he could smell Betsy.
Not just her.
He smelt Betsy, and – he was hit by nostalgia – Kurt, who must have teleported her, and he smelt… her. Her scent. Jean. God, that shell’s mocking laughter still echoed in his ears.
Rachel opened the door and there they were: his elf, and Betsy, and Jean.
God, she hadn’t aged a day.
She looked up when they arrived – she was crouched beside Betsy’s chair as the woman stared into the fireplace, face hidden by lavender hair – and her smile was just as kind as he remembered, before the Phoenix marred that memory.
“Logan,” she said softly as she stood up. “Let’s find your son.”
Notes:
Next: A trip inside Logan’s mind.
.
[This was my first time writing Kitty! Let me know if she sounded OOC. I'm not a fan of her current characterization, but I'm trying to stick to canon, where it's possible. I'm not going to follow the most recent issues, though.]
Chapter 6: A trip inside Logan's mind.
Notes:
Additional warnings: filicide, mentions of suicidal behavior, upsetting imagery.
This one’s a bit morbid. I hope I don’t scare any of you off. Do tell me what you think!
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
6.
It was like walking uninvited into some private part of her father’s life.
The air in the room was thick with strange, heavy connotations – eerie electricity running between him and Jean, him and Kurt.
She couldn’t say she knew them well. She worked well with the both of them, yes; she respected them both. But she didn’t know them. Now, obviously that was due to the fact that death had taken them both for quite some time; not to mention Jean had died quite shortly after Laura’s arrival at the school.
She’d been a scared child at the time; she recalled Jean’s death hitting Logan hard, but little more than that, for at the time he was still so guarded around her, and she around him. She did recall Kurt comforting Logan, their friendship that had always struck her as more; but then Kurt had died, too. By that time, she was a little less guarded, and could look at the teleporter with what she’d feared to call affection – but still, she couldn’t say she knew him, not really. His death had touched her, of course, but at the time she still felt she had no right to that. She’d watched his friends mourn him instead – Ororo and Logan the most subdued in such grieving time.
She’d been glad when he’d been revived, because she’d seen the effect that had on Logan. But even then, she hadn’t approached him. And after, with Logan’s death, she’d sought to distance herself from everyone who’d loved him, her own pain too fresh to share. It had taken her kidnapping, Daken’s presence, to finally learn that. They’d mourned fitfully as they learned their way around each other, bound by pain just as much as by the blooming affection born in the wake of mutual respect –
And that brought her here. Here to this room, trying to find a way to return Daken home – side by side with teammates she now thought she’d never really know.
Both Jean and Kurt had greeted her with a fleeting smile, but now their attention, as it should be, was focused on their old friend. And there was a nervous energy there, something she couldn’t quite put her finger on. She thought she recognized the love in the two men’s eyes – the same shared by Logan and Ororo, tinged by the same timid wariness she’d witnessed around them ever since his return; and that, out of the kinship and gratitude she felt for the wind-rider, was what sent her teeth on edge upon looking at Jean.
Because while the woman wasn’t acting like anything but a close friend, happy to see Logan back from the dead, there was still something in her eyes. It didn’t speak of anything recent, but it seemed like regret.
And yet, none of this was Laura’s business.
She let them catch up, even though they were hardly talking – resolving to intervene only if the reunion began to take too long, for, even as she knew Logan felt the same urgency regarding Daken’s predicament, it was clear he was lost in the past for now – and joined Braddock and Rachel.
Rachel had taken her mother’s side at the feet of Braddock’s chair; and Laura sat opposite them, though she kept her silence. The two women must be deep in telepathic conversation.
It had surprised her to see Braddock upon her return from the Madripoor mission; she’d known some vague detail about how the woman had come to wear her body, but she hadn’t ever stopped to think about what that could do to her identity. And now – seeing her inhabit again, but with clear unease, her original Caucasian body – Laura wondered in what other ways such a thing had marked her. It couldn’t be easy to find herself back in shoes she’d thought long gone, perhaps lost forever.
No wonder she spent her days holed up in this room; and no wonder she felt the need to do something to shake off the apathy. Laura asked herself how much of that decision was her choice and how much of it was just Rachel prodding at her until she consented to help; but then she was struck by the fact such thoughts were terribly rude as she entertained them so near to the telepaths in question, and so she returned her attention to Logan and his old – friends? Paramours?
Rachel’s choked snort confirmed that at least some of her thoughts had been heard, so Laura climbed to her feet once more. Braddock merely hummed.
“We can’t waste any more time,” Laura said apologetically. Logan winced.
“Yeah, you’re right.” He run his gaze from telepath to telepath, his expression turning resolute. “How will we do this?”
“First off, you need to lie down.” With a wide gesture, Rachel motioned to the bed in the room. With the other hand she squeezed Braddock’s leg. “You ready, love?”
Braddock finally raised her head. Her eyes looked wild, very much alive with excitement at the upcoming task. Laura crossed her arms. She wasn’t so sure it was a good idea to make her go from inactivity to something so delicate in one go, but she wasn’t an expert. If neither Rachel nor Jean were worried, she shouldn’t either.
She watched in silence as the powerful trio of telepaths closed in on Logan, and she couldn’t suppress a shiver, recalling her own recent run-in with the Cuckoos. She was glad Gabby wasn’t here; she acted as if the possession hadn’t affected her, but she was different these days – morose, more prone to emotional outbursts. So frail.
If they lost Daken, Gabby would never recover.
She watched as Logan lay down and the telepaths sat in formation around him, Jean the closest to his head; the woman reached out gently, placed both hands on his temples, and closed her eyes.
For a while there was silence, punctuated by their breaths. Rachel and Braddock had closed their eyes as well, and Logan’s were squinted shut, and Laura met Kurt’s worried gaze. He half-shrugged.
“Should we –” He jerked his head towards the door. He probably didn’t want to disturb them, but Laura had no intention to leave; she needed to see this through.
Logan hissed, perhaps in pain. “Laura,” Jean said in a clear, calm voice. “Come here, please.”
She was already in motion, alerted by the sound. She lingered by the bed, waiting for further instruction. Logan was pale; his skin beaded with sweat. She hesitated. If he was so affected by mere minutes of this, perhaps Pryde was right. Perhaps they should wait without exerting him – he’d just come back, and he had much to work through, and here he was, harming himself, and she’d made him do so. She’d as good as guilt-tripped him into doing it.
But Daken needed help. He needed to be found.
How could she protect one while harming the other?
“You aren’t.” Braddock’s voice was closer than she’d expected. The woman cocked her head. “Sit beside him, on the bed. Take his hands. You’ll be our anchor.”
“Blood is strong,” Rachel added. “And he chose you.”
Jean just hummed.
Laura did as she was told, tucking her legs under her and grabbing both of Logan’s clammy hands. He exhaled as she did so.
“Good.” Jean leaned in, a crease of concentration on her forehead, her fiery locks brushing Logan’s face. “We’re going to pull you in, Laura. All right?”
A small part of her panicked. So close to telepaths in action, she could still feel Sophie’s whispers at the back of her mind, as if called forth by them. It was merely a ghost, and the poor girl had helped in the end; nonetheless, it made her skin crawl.
But this moment couldn’t be about her. “Yes.”
“I’m going to tell Ororo,” Kurt said quietly from his spot.
“Yes, thank you.” Rachel moved closer as Braddock did the same, the four of them a barrier between Logan and the world. Kurt stole one last glance between Jean’s and Braddock’s shoulders and then left, closing the door behind him. She heard him teleport away from there.
“Here we are, Laura.” She felt the soft touch of Jean’s mind, felt herself drawn and guided through blazing light. The room vanished and she found herself in a dark wooden house; the simplicity of the furniture and the cut of the wood made her think it was a Japanese abode.
The stench of blood assaulted her nostrils. She turned, ready to strike; the three telepaths stood in a semi-circle around something – someone. Two people; there was a corpse on the floor, and a shaking figure sat by the body.
Coming closer, Laura got a good look at the dead woman. Her face struck her, for she’d seen it already, although her expression had been kind and serene, lovingly rendered by a hand that had only someone else’s memory to go by.
“That’s Itsu,” she murmured. She looked up and met Jean’s gaze. “Daken’s mother.” Logan let out a cry.
Yes. Jean’s lips didn’t move. Use your mind to talk with us, Laura. He can’t see us for now.
Why? What’s happening? Laura returned her attention to Logan’s weeping figure.
This scene represents his guilt, his desire to find his son. Logan was – she didn’t know how she hadn’t noticed before; it made her skin crawl – Logan had buried his arms, elbows deep, in the dead woman’s belly, and he was feeling around for something that wasn’t there anymore. Talk to him, Laura, Rachel nudged her. We need him alert.
Laura went to a crouch. She could hear Logan’s frantic, desperate whispering, “Where is he, where is he, where is he –” and it squeezed her heart. She touched gently his arm.
“Logan, he’s not here.” Logan jerked, but kept on with his futile attempts. She shook him, once. “He’s gone. But we’ll find him, Logan. With your help.”
“My help?” Logan looked up, eyes red and puffy and unfocused, tears streaming his face. “All I’ve ever done is give up on him.” The scene shifted to a desolate pile of rubble. He was holding someone down – Daken. He was holding Daken down.
Laura knew about this. She’d been told about it – by Logan, with a dead voice. By Daken himself, with much the same tone.
Nothing had prepared her for the grim reality of it: the desperation, the helplessness. Daken’s body wanted to live even if he didn’t anymore, and he’d struggled – oh God, was he struggling – but Logan’s grip was steel and unforgiveness and horrified resolution.
This would bring them nowhere. This would only further Logan’s self-flagellation and wouldn’t benefit Daken. She knew Logan needed to work on his feelings about that day – about his whole relationship with Daken – but now wasn’t the time.
She placed a hand on Logan’s, strands of Daken’s damp hair brushing against her fingertips. She could hear her brother’s wet cries – the water filling his lungs, the mud muffling his gasps. He was clutching wildly at the dirt to gain some purchase, his knuckles white, but he was too weak already. She felt a fierce, furious instinct to battle Logan, to stop him – but it would be pointless. It had already happened. “Logan. It’s done. You can’t do anything about it – but you can fix the rest. You can help him. You can find him.”
“Find him?” The desperation in Logan’s eyes gave way to alertness. He looked at her as Daken finally stilled. She hoped her features didn’t show how the sudden absence of the sounds affected her – what the sight of her brother’s corpse was doing to her.
“Yes, find him. Come with us, Logan.”
Confused, he looked up – to find himself staring at the trio of telepaths. Their expressions were kind, but the pity in their eyes unmistakable. Logan hung his head in shame.
“I –”
“Snap out of it, Logan,” Braddock said. “Get up. We don’t have much time, remember?”
“But I need to bury him –” he said weakly. Laura shook him, finally fed up – she didn’t know what hurt the most: the defeated voice, his shifting eyes… he’d sported the same signs when he’d told her, so long ago. And even if she’d understood it must have been a practical choice that would have haunted him forever, even at the time she’d felt a drop of uneasiness.
It was Braddock who struck him, though.
“If you don’t want to bury him again, Logan,” the woman said harshly, crouching opposite Logan, “you’ll get up now.” Logan tried to avoid her gaze, found the only thing he could fix his eyes on was Daken’s corpse, and looked back up with a grimace. “You did what you thought was best in that moment,” Braddock continued, not unkindly. “Accept it, let it go, and thank God you have a second chance now.” She cocked her head. “I can’t tell you that it’s all going to solve. But you can try, Logan. You can work for it.”
“Don’t you want to talk with him?” Laura added. “To apologize. To work everything out.” It wouldn’t certainly take one single conversation, but she hoped it was the incentive Logan needed.
He nodded, his cheeks wet with tears.
“Then get up,” Braddock urged. “Get up now.” She held out a hand; after a long moment, Logan took it.
The scene vanished. It was a relief; if she had to look down at her brother’s corpse for much longer, she feared she wouldn’t answer for her actions.
There was a lull; Logan stood awkwardly, doing his best to avoid everyone’s eyes, fists balled so hard that, if they’d been back in the real world, he’d have drawn his own blood with his nails.
“It’s all right, Logan. It’s going to be all right.” Jean lay a comforting hand on his arm. Logan winced and she attempted a smile, hoping, perhaps, to comfort him – but how could one go on about comforting someone who wasn’t in the right mind to accept such a thing? Logan was drowning with guilt. “Are you ready?” Jean eventually said.
His mouth a thin white line, Logan nodded. Jean squeezed his arm, then let her hand fall to her side.
We’re going to bring you back to the bunker where we find you, Rachel said. All right?
Once again, Logan nodded, grim acceptance on his face. He was ready. As ready as he could be, anyway.
So they dove deeper.
Notes:
Next: Recovering intel unearths an unpleasant truth.
.
[Whew, I haven’t written this cast in ages! And I think I’ve never written Jean. Let me know if you find something clunky.
About Jean: this isn’t going to become some strange love quadrangle, don’t worry. When I was younger I fell for the forbidden Logan/Jean romance, but those two just don’t work. No, I have something else in mind for her – let’s just see if I can work it in. Perhaps you’ll see it in the background; the snikt family’s the focus, after all.
Speaking of which: Daken’s coming soon, I promise.]
Chapter 7: Recovering intel unearths an unpleasant truth.
Notes:
No particular warnings this time – except for those in the tags, of course. Do tell me if something is missing!
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
7.
It was dark and small and it smelled unpleasantly. He couldn’t get out – his claws didn’t work, maybe the walls were made of adamantium? – and he didn’t know where he was. He’d thought he was buried alive in the encasing, on that damn roof, forever aware until he suffocated and then came back to life again, but that didn’t make sense, because his healing factor was gone; that was why he’d died. And yet, his wounds had closed when he’d retracted his claws after trying to graze his prison –
It was strange – and it infuriated her so – to experience such thoughts and feelings as her own; to know so intimately what suffocating horrors Logan had been subjected to.
So, this confirms you were aware before we arrived. That was Braddock’s voice; Laura tried to orient herself towards it. Can you remember how you got there? Braddock sounded like she was grimacing. They’d suspected that he’d awakened long before being found, of course: after all, he was already awake when Pryde had entered the bunker, and when she’d phased him out of there Logan had looked alert, seemingly recognizing them all. He’d looked at Laura with such wonder in his eyes; he was leaning on Colossus’ arm, and his feverish gaze had zeroed in on her immediately.
Then he’d passed out.
I don’t really remember… I just came to in there. Logan sounded unsure.
That’s what we’re here for. Jean reached out; even Laura could feel it. Laura, hold him. Logan, think about that name – Soteira. Yes, that’s it – focus on that. On how it makes you feel.
Nausea and panic, bile in her throat. Cold sweat on her forehead.
Laura, hold him steady.
It felt like forever. They picked at things she couldn’t see, couldn’t hear. Phantom fingers in her brain – in Logan’s brain – she was holding him together. She was the anchor, his blood, his daughter, and she’d hold him upright until the telepaths found a way in.
But they were trapped in a slick darkness – a sense of helplessness, foreboding and cruel. She tasted blood in her mouth from how hard he/she was biting his/her tongue. Words echoed in his/her ears. She couldn’t even recognize which of the telepaths was saying what.
– not telepathy. This is all scientific –
– like with Weapon X, there was –
– his brain, healing the trauma. Maybe –
– yes. Try –
Got it!
It unraveled like a nightmare giving way to an even worse dream, flooding them all with scents and sounds and stark images. He stood in a cell – unmoving, like a puppet waiting for his strings to be pulled, eyes staring ahead. He was killing people – men and women and children alike, always with the same stony expression. He cried out at seeing himself stick his claws into innocent people, at seeing the cold machine they’d turned him back into – a weapon for their pleasure, only willing to serve. The bile rushing up Laura’s throat was hers just as much as she felt Logan’s; she knew that feeling intimately. She knew about being used, about being forced to do what was bid. She even knew the horrifying feeling of not being in charge of her own body, of waking up to discover it had been used as was seen fit. She held Logan through the vision, the both of them protected by the telepaths who acted as shields as they looked for information in the cacophony.
Focus on names, Logan! Locations! Let your mind catch up. We’ll follow the trail, but we need you to point us towards it!
Logan closed his eyes, a crease of concentration on his forehead. Laura rested her own to his, hoping it would lend him strength.
Where were they keeping you? Did you ever see the outside? When they sent you on missions, perhaps?
A flash of something white. A constriction in her lungs.
Okay, a mountain area. Obviously. That’s good, Logan! Keep trying!
Night. One time it was night – as he was herded towards the helicopter, one of the soldiers holding his arm slipped, pulling him forward, and he looked up.
Are we getting this? The sky’s so clear, look at the stars! We all need to memorize it, okay? Keep it firmly in your mind!
Laura did the same, staring with helpless hope at the constellations. It was a clear night, devoid of clouds, and each luminous point was a stab wound in the bodies of the people who’d taken Logan, who had Daken.
The scene dulled suddenly, as if banished. She fought to hold on to the stars, but they were twirling away, and they were the only thing, the only way back to Daken –
“- here.”
She spun around. They were back in the cell, Logan still and unmoving, only his eyes alert with his present mind as he seemed to completely inhabit the memory; someone was speaking outside. But they had to get back – they had to get back to the mountain, see the night sky –
It’s all right, Laura. We have the image. She couldn’t see the telepaths anymore, but she heard them all the same.
Yes, but what happened? Braddock asked.
She influenced the reception, Jean said, matter-of-factly. She called Daken forth in Logan’s mind.
You mean –
Yes, I fear so.
We should leave. Before –
Too late.
Laura stared helplessly as the door was opened. She memorized every line on the face of the man standing in the doorway, for she knew she couldn’t do anything to him now. But the next time she saw him, back in the real world, she’d have words with him, and more than that. She’d have his life.
He wore a two-piece, his hair primly cut short. He had the malevolent eyes of a man accustomed to have others do his dirty work.
“Get out, Wolverine. Stand by the door.”
Logan’s body came to life. He moved efficiently and she followed; but while he didn’t stop at seeing what was outside, oblivious to it – though his eyes, mirroring his present consciousness, were wide with agony – she stopped dead in her tracks, confronted by an ugly, obvious truth:
Of course they’d moved Logan only once Daken was secured.
He lay on a gurney, his hair fanned out. He looked peaceful. She held out a hand, knowing fully well she couldn’t touch him, but aching to all the same. His skin was so pale; there were patches of dried blood here and there. It seemed he’d healed fully. Was he already alive? Had he woken up already, only to be put under again?
No, he wouldn’t have seemed so at peace if that had been the case.
They put him in the room, then other people followed suit, with cables and machinery and helmets; but she couldn’t see what they did with any of it, as the man moved away and ordered Logan to follow.
Logan seemed to be effectively trapped in the memory, screaming from his eyes. He’d been so close. So close! If only he’d snapped out of it, if only he’d been able to overcome whatever they’d done to his brain, he could have saved his son –
And then you would have been trapped there, Braddock said sensibly. With no possible means to contact anyone, surrounded by enemies. I know you’ve faced worst threats, but let’s look at the odds here, Logan. You wouldn’t have saved him. Perhaps they’d have kept you too.
He should have tried!
Logan, listen to me. There was nothing you could have done!
He shouldn’t have abandoned his son again!
Logan wasn’t listening. He was howling in anguish – lost in the moment, forced to follow the memory even as he struggled to come back to the corridor, to Daken’s side. To see more of him, perhaps, to marinate in despair as he did so.
She understood that feeling. God, it couldn’t be easy to realize he’d been right there as Daken was brought in; to bemoan himself for not being able to snap out of the brainwashing in order to save his son.
But this wasn’t his fault; he had no possible way to fight what had been done to him. She knew – she didn’t know where her certainty came from, but she guessed the three telepaths’ knowledge was bleeding through – that his brain had been turned into a convoluted maze, probably through strange chemicals; his healing factor had been no match for it, perhaps impeded by a version of the device that Deathstrike had descripted. He’d had no chance to fight it.
But this was a lucid analysis he couldn’t make, at least for now. For now he was overcome with grief, this truth only adding to the stockpile of his wrongdoings.
She heard the telepaths – she felt them, too, their frantic, concerted movements – but none of what they said would reach Logan. And they had other things to worry about – she felt, too, at the back of Logan’s mind, the presence of that strange maze, which the telepaths were battling. She was alone here.
It was up to her. She was the anchor, his blood, his daughter, and it was up to her to pick up the pieces. To snap him out of it and mend her family.
Logan. She held him tightly. He kept walking after the man, trapped in the memory, but his eyes were ablaze – feverish. It happened. It’s terrible, it’s unfair, but it happened, and there’s nothing you can do about it. Now you can only move forward. Find him again. Save him.
Save him. Logan blinked, something rational back in his gaze. She plunged on.
Yes, save him. You can, Logan. We can. We have something – we may find him soon. And he’ll need you. He’ll need his father, Logan.
I –
Be there, she pressed. You’ll need to be there. For him, for you. To heal.
Heal? He shook his head – not in denial, but confusion. Laura, we can’t–
Yes, you can. You can heal each other. We’ll help. We’ll all help, father. We –
Father? She could feel the shock rippling through him as well as through herself. She’d named him so in his presence already, but this was the first time she called him by that word.
She hadn’t even told him yet.
Yes. We’re a family, Logan. We’re here for each other. That’s what families do.
The howling subsided; that feverish light in his eyes vanished. She held him through it – they were made of iron, and they’d weather this storm. They’d come out of it whole.
She was sure of it.
She had to be.
Eventually she saw there were two Logans again. She was holding her father, while the brainwashed memory kept following his jailor.
Jean materialized beside them. She looked positively ruffled, her long hair wild; a manifestation of their struggle against whatever Soteira had done to Logan’s brain, perhaps. Laura was glad she hadn’t had to face that; the battle here had been difficult enough.
And you did well. Jean smiled. We should leave. We have much to do.
Logan followed his memory-self with his gaze. Not all of his questions had been answered, but it would have to do for now. They had information to check – and, hopefully, a rescue mission to plan.
Yeah, let’s go. He squeezed Laura’s hand –
– and they were back in the room. There was a gasp as she stirred, her muscles aching; then something – someone – flung herself at her.
“You’ve been gone forever!”
Gabby. Laura held her in return while trying to keep her balance on the bed; her sister was shaking slightly, and smelt thoroughly upset.
They weren’t alone; the room felt overcrowded. The three telepaths were wincing as they attempted to get up, and Laura felt stiff as well. Logan was sitting up, searching someone with his gaze – alerted by their scent. There was a beat, and then both Ororo and Kurt were by the bed, each of them taking one of Logan’s hands.
“Hey, ’Ro,” he said quietly. “Elf.”
They didn’t speak. Ororo pressed the back of his hand to her cheek; Kurt kept staring down at him, apparently at a loss for words. Laura stood up, dragging Gabby with her, to give them space. She had to lean against the wall; she felt a bit light-headed.
“How long?” she asked her sister while caressing her hair.
“Hours and hours,” Gabby muttered. “Almost a day!”
Taken aback, Laura looked up to meet Rachel’s gaze. The telepath nodded; Laura hadn’t realized so much time had passed, but then again, she and Logan had been shielded by the powerful trio.
It must have been an ordeal, if Braddock’s grimace was anything to go by. Jean looked unfazed, but she couldn’t fool Laura, who’d seen her out of sorts just a while earlier.
“Did it work?” Pryde’s voice brought her back to the present. The woman stood by the door, and there were people peering in as well – Jubilee was among them, her attention divided between Laura and Logan: she was eyeing worriedly the both of them.
“We have something, yes,” Jean said. “A sky map. With a bit of luck, they might even still be there – and Daken with them.”
Pryde nodded stiffly. “Follow me. And you,” she added as Logan made to stand up, “Stay here. Rest. That’s an order. Unless that’s a problem, Betsy? We could move him –” She trailed off, unsure, but Braddock shook her head.
“No problem at all. Stay as long as you want,” she said as she and Rachel moved to join Pryde and Jean. “He needs to lie down for a while,” she added to Ororo and Kurt. “Tie him up, if you must.”
“Oh, we will,” Ororo said softly. She sat down, and Kurt walked around the bed to do the same on the other side.
“I need –” Logan tried to protest, but he was gently shushed by the man.
“You need to lie down, you heard her. I’m sure they’ll come tell us if there’s news, ja?”
Logan looked subdued; he must be exhausted not to put up more of a fight.
And he should be. They’d rummaged through his brain, and he’d been dealt a terrible blow; he should just leave the rest to them now.
She put a hand on Gabby’s shoulder, so that her sister would release her. She needed to follow the others, and make sure to add her own memories of the sky map; she needed to be there while they planned –
“You too, Laura,” Rachel said. Laura looked up at her sharply; the woman had the same stern expression Braddock had sported with Logan. “You need to rest.”
There was no way in hell she’d do that while they discussed the fate of her brother. She tried to take a step in their direction, but Gabby had decided to become an unmovable object, her arms tight around her.
“I’ll tie her up!” came her muffled voice, from somewhere around Laura’s stomach.
Her throat tightened. “Gabby –”
“Nu-huh!” Gabby shook her head and held her tighter. And as she was squeezed to death by her suddenly overbearing sister, Pryde took the cowardly way out and led the telepaths away; only Jean had the good grace to look ashamed of it, but still she said nothing.
“Gabby.” She got Gabby’s worry, she really did; but this was Daken they were talking about. Their brother. She had to make sure they really had the intel, she had to follow the proceedings, know everything they decided and steer the conversation if she heard something she didn’t like. “Gabby, let me go.” As always, her sister was immune to stern words, and just kept shaking her head. “Gabby.”
“All right, show’s over,” Jubilee cheerfully said from the doorway. She was shooing away friends and students alike. “Let them rest, people!” When the hallway was cleared, she hovered by the door and threw Laura a smile. “So I’m thinking, you can come to my room? So you can rest, and he can rest,” she pointed at Logan, arching her eyebrows in a suggestive, playful manner. Ororo regally ignored her, while Kurt smiled. “And everyone’s happy. What do you think?”
“I need to join the others,” she said sternly. Jubilee’s gaze softened.
“They’ll call you immediately if there something to be done,” she said. “You know that, right? They won’t just leave you here. We know it’s important. But you need to lie down at least a little, okay? Don’t make me bedazzle you,” she stage-whispered, wiggling her hands.
Her levity always brought a smile to Laura’s face.
Not this time, though. She couldn’t sit still while her brother was in danger.
A shadow passed over Jubilee’s face. “Don’t go all Wolvie on me.” At Laura’s perplexed expression – even if she could guess what Jubilee meant – she elaborated: “Don’t get so stoic and mopey. We’re here to help, Laura. We’re a family.”
A family.
She felt Logan’s eyes on her and there he was, half a tired smile on his face – as if to scold her for forgetting what she’d told him to encourage him, what she’d learnt while he was gone. He was reluctantly embracing such truth, and his gaze seemed to tell her to get onboard without making a fuss.
Perhaps they were right. Perhaps she could trust Pryde and the others. They’d help find Daken, and she could hand over the reins for a while.
Just a little while.
She had to be well rested for when it was time to rescue Daken, after all.
Notes:
Next: the asset fights.
.
[Yes, next chapter Daken returns ^-^ I hope it will be worth the wait!
Today Jubilee showed up! It will be interesting for me to write her, I’ve only ever written her with the future characterization we saw in Battle of the Atom.
I’d love to hear from you all! Let me know what you think, it helps me grow as a writer. If you’re shy, come and leave me a message at my tumblr (gealach-in-a-misty-world.tumblr.com), I’ll answer privately ^-^ ]
Chapter 8: The asset fights.
Notes:
Additional warnings: non-linear narrative, suicidal thoughts and actions, past conditioning.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
8.
He came to. He was.
He stood. People were shouting. Alarms blaring. One of his masters was in front of him. He had to follow his master immediately. Why hadn’t they listened? Dammit. Come, come, quickly! We need to leave!
He followed his master. His master walked fast and he followed at the same pace. They were protected by cannon fodder around them. There were alarms blaring. Sound of fighting all over the compound. He could be of better use if his masters sicced him on their foes, but his masters knew better, of course.
They entered a tunnel. Closed a heavy door behind them. The sounds came muffled, then vanished. They were getting away from the fight. His master was protecting the asset; he would take good care of him and make contact with his other masters when this died down. Dammit, they should have relocated as soon as they had him. But this was the only facility big enough to house the training grounds – no matter, no matter, the killteams would take care of this…
His master was rambling, his voice was echoing in the small space. The cannon fodders’ stamping boots added to the noise. But the asset had hyper-senses. He spoke up, even if he hadn’t been given permission to speak. He was a good boy, after all. Good boys don’t let their masters get hurt, even if disobeying brings pain. “There’s someone ahead, master.” There were people at the end of the tunnel. Some people were coming in. “Incoming. Three people. Likely mutants.” He sniffed. It was difficult from this distance, but mutants had a specific under-current to their scent. “Confirmed. Three mutants.”
His master cursed. He sent some cannon fodder ahead and paced in a circle, muttering to himself, as the rest went in formation around the two of them. His master was trying to decide if they should get back to the compound or force their way ahead. Only three mutants? They could make it! But what if others were waiting outside? And yet, the compound by now bust be swarmed with mutants! Going forward was the only way possible –
The asset stood still, waiting for instructions. He could easily dispose of the intruders, but his masters knew best. They still hadn’t sent him on mission, after all; perhaps they thought him defective. Perhaps he was.
He wanted to prove himself, but he’d have to wait for an order. Unless his master was in danger. Then he’d move. He’d certainly be punished, but that would mean his master was alive to do so.
[god, no]
The asset’s heart skipped a beat, but then resumed beating normally. He focused on his surroundings.
There was fighting ahead. Grunts. Screams. Sounds of bodies hitting the floor. Guns firing. Something wet and cold and –
[he hated cold]
- coming. Coming towards them. The asset put himself in front of his master – was that his defect? Strange thoughts in his head? – and prepared to fight. The temperature was dropping.
[he hated cold!]
“Master,” he said. “They’re coming. I’ll protect you, master.” If it was the last thing he did. He was a good boy.
[Laughter in his ears.]
He was crazy. Defective.
His master cursed. They were done, he said. Oh, they were fucking done –
The source of the cold arrived and the asset flung himself at it as the cannon fodder discharged their weapons. It burnt – hey, we’re here to help, just calm down, the cold form was saying, a man made of ice – but he’d fight with all he had. He had to protect his master before he was decommissioned; at least that.
He slashed and slashed, but he could only chip the cold man, unleashing ice shrapnel that was bound to harm his master. He let himself fall to a crouch on the ground, shouting for the cannon fodder to protect his master.
As he did so, the cold man was joined by two mutants. A metallic man and a woman with short hair. The asset stayed low as he studied the three mutants. There must be a way to overpower them, play one against the other and slip away undetected. His only priority was his master; he could leave the cannon fodder behind.
[left behind like always, like –]
[that’s not true!]
He was defective. He was losing it. His master wasn’t safe around him; he couldn’t even protect him adequately, and now his mind was wandering. Useless.
A suicide attack, then. To distract the mutants as his master slipped away.
They were standing there, as if he wasn’t a menace, but he’d show them. And his master. He’d show everyone he was a good boy.
He sprang.
His master was shouting to come back, please come back, oh god I’m fucked, he was screaming. Bullets were flying.
The mutants split. The two men run past him; as he turned to follow them to protect his master, the woman fell upon him. He swung, but his claws met nothing; it was as if her body was made of air.
[Daken]
[Daken!]
He shook his head. There was something in his mind, and it was making him sloppy. The woman was impossible to face. Her body was intangible, and he could lash out all he wanted, but he couldn’t manage to hit her.
But she wasn’t harming him. She was playing with him, but she wasn’t doing anything. She was grimacing, her breath coming fast in little puffs of exertion, but she wasn’t doing anything to him. She could just push a hand inside him and squeeze it around some major organ, but she wasn’t doing so.
This meant that the mutants wanted him, not his master.
The asset turned his attention to the rest of the fight. The cannon fodder was losing. His master was screaming to just let him go, oh god, please, he’d tell them everything they wanted to know, this wasn’t even his idea –
[pathetic]
No, he wasn’t pathetic. He was trying to survive. And the asset would ensure it. It was his duty. He was defective, but this, at least, he could do.
“Let him go,” he said, turning to the woman. “It’s me you want.” Perhaps he’d manage to kill some of them, if they lowered their guard around him. But what mattered the most, what he must focus on now, was securing his master’s safety.
The woman looked startled. Then her eyes went strange, like earlier. Like she wasn’t listening to what was in front of her, but her attention was focused elsewhere.
So the asset saw an opening, and took it. He swung fast, aiming for her guts –
[gutted. Gutted, gutted, oh god]
What was wrong with him? He stumbled as the woman took a step back, his claws going through her flesh like it was air. Her gaze darkened, but then the cold was at his back again, pushing him down, down, down –
He slammed face first on the floor, panting for air, something cold encasing his torso, he couldn’t move –
[oh god, oh god, so cold, he couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t –]
Just stay there, okay, I don’t think a kiss is gonna do much this time –
Bobby, what the hell are you talking about?
[cold, so cold all around him, inside him]
What was happening? What was wrong with his head? What was wrong with him?
[leave me alone, oh god leave me alone, they’d take him, use him, hurt him he couldn’t let them, wouldn’t let them!]
He was defective, and a liability, and he couldn’t even protect his master. So if the mutants wanted him, he had to take himself away from them. His hands were near his head. He angled them right, slowly, as the mutants talked. There were other people coming. His master was being manhandled, but he was alive. They’d let him live. He’d been right; it was him they wanted.
The asset unsheathed his claws –
But there was, suddenly, cold ice around his hands and claws. He couldn’t even put an end to himself. He was a property after all, he knew that, and yet –
[leave me alone, oh god please, leave me alone –]
What have you done to him, you sick psycho? asked the cold man. Even his voice was cold.
Nothing! I swear, he does that on his own, he always does it –
He… always tries to kill himself?
Yes! his master screamed. It’s not us, you think we wanted him to do that, come on –
The asset didn’t remember this thing his master was saying. He’d tried before? Was that the reason why they’d never sent him on mission? Because he was defective, wrong in the head, and he always tried to kill himself? And he couldn’t even remember it?
[can’t even do that right]
The asset struggled. He retracted his claws and then unsheathed them again, hoping to crack the ice, but it was pointless. And he hated that numb feeling they gave him, hated not being in control of at least this thing –
But he was never in control. He was a good boy and he did what he was told. Why did this bother him?
Why did the cold make him want to scream? What was wrong with him?
[Daken]
Yes, he knew that was his name. Why did the voice say it with such urgency?
[Daken!]
Daken! This last time it came from the real world. Someone was running towards him, shouting that word, his name, over and over again. A woman. No – a woman, and a man…?
The man smelt of death.
The asset screamed. He trashed about –
[undignified]
[leave me alone, please, let me die, let me –]
- but he couldn’t move, the cold ice kept him pinned. He was trapped, trapped with – with – why did the man’s scent set him off like that, like a madman? Why, why, why, why, why, why, why –
Oh, he’s gone, his master was saying, as if from a great distance, with a small voice. No way to make him come back from that. We usually dose him and t-t-terminate him –
There was a snarl, and a scream. Blood. But it was all muffled, far away. There was only the cold, and the knowledge he was gone, defective, mad, he couldn’t even off himself, a liability, he’d lost his master, he’d lost everything, and why, why, why, why, why, why, why –
[we need to wait, I’m afraid we’ll only do more damage]
Why were there voices in his head, why, why, why, why, why, why, why –
Look at what the fuck he’s trying to -! And you’re telling me to wait?
[don’t call me boy, you can’t call me boy, you don’t get to call me boy, no one will ever call me boy again]
Logan, calm down.
But he was a good boy, he was, he was, he was, he was, he was, he was, he was, he was –
Jesus Christ, do something, I can’t –
Move. Iceman, call your ice off.
But –
You heard them. He doesn’t like it. Do it.
[no he didn’t, he didn’t like the cold, he didn’t -]
[please please please please]
Just let him, let him, let him, let him, let him, let him, let him –
He could. They’d let him. He was free. His hands were warming up. Free. He punched, aiming for his own head, but something warm grabbed his wrists before his claws could even graze his skull. Firm. Unrelenting. Slowly pushing his hands away from his head.
He felt light-headed. Blood. Sticky –
Daken, a voice said, close to him. A woman’s. Daken. Listen to me.
[leave me alone!]
He unsheathed his wrist claws. He pierced her flesh, he smelt her blood, but she didn’t let out a sound. She kept holding his wrists.
Her blood –
[don’t hurt her don’t you dare hurt her don’t you fucking hurt her]
Let me go, let me go, let me go, let me go –
[help me! Oh god help me, help me -]
Daken, we’ll help you. I’m here, brother. I’m here.
He couldn’t hurt her. He couldn’t, couldn’t, couldn’t, couldn’t –
Oh, God. The male voice, the man who smelt like death. Oh, my boy, my poor boy –
[not a boy, not your boy, not a fucking boy -]
A good boy, he was a good boy, a good boy, he was a good, a good, a good, a good –
He was flipped to the side. The woman was all over him, her body pressed against his, her arms around his head. They were wet and slick with blood. She held his head firmly, he couldn’t move it. He tried to stab himself but she kept moving in the way, intertwining their bodies and he couldn’t harm her, he couldn’t, he couldn’t –
It’s all right, she kept saying. We’ll help. I’ll help. I’m here, Daken. I’m here for you. I’m here. I’m right here. I’ll help. I’m here.
It’s okay, I’ve got you. You’re safe.
I’m here.
[L-L-Lau-?]
“Please,” the asset whimpered, defeated. His voice was muffled by the woman’s flesh. He didn't know what he was asking for. “Please.”
Notes:
Next: Logan grapples with a decision.
.
[Rescued at last! I had no intention to drag the search for too long. Now, obviously this is far from over – there will be consequences. What do you think will happen? How long will it take for Daken to get better? Will Logan deal with any of this better than every other time? Is Laura going to stop putting it all on her shoulders? I’d love to hear your thoughts! ^-^ If you prefer, you can come and leave me a message at my tumblr, gealach-in-a-misty-world.tumblr.com]
Chapter 9: Logan grapples with a decision.
Notes:
Trigger warning: mentions of suicidal behavior.
I've added a few tags, please check them out. Stay safe!
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
9.
That sight would haunt Logan until he died.
He’d always see it, in every waking moment – in every nightmare. It would always be at the forefront of his mind, a horrifying image burnt in his retinae.
His son – his poor son – writhing on the floor in an effort to get away from him. Banging his head against the cold metallic surface, again and again and again, his hair matted with his own blood. The sound of his skull almost cracking before Laura intervened. Trying to stab himself in the head. Sobbing, and screaming, and whimpering. What little Logan could make out of what he was feverishly whispering, made Logan’s blood run cold. Calling himself a good boy; asking why with a broken, wretched voice – over and over again, like a broken record. What little Jean had managed to tell Logan filled him with dread. The boy’s thoughts were fragmented, floating. A thousand screaming voices. The telepaths said that they may need to wait, to let the chemicals leave naturally his system, because they didn’t know how that variable could affect their work. Rachel quietly added that his mind must have been a mess even before Soteira, so full it was of psychic scars, and they needed peace and quiet and time and a hale body.
And that meant waiting it out – moving his bloodied son with great care to the Blackbird. Moving Laura with him, for she wouldn’t leave him, and he clung to her like a newborn.
Logan had wept at the sight of his two children so close. He was still crying, and no one in the jet dared say a word.
Laura had taken charge immediately upon seeing her distressed brother. She didn’t show an inch of interest for the men they’d captured; she’d gone straight for Daken, ordered Bobby to release him immediately – Betsy said that Daken had been triggered by the cold… that it had woken him up, in a way, so they should be grateful for it. Logan had a hard time being grateful at seeing his son so wrecked. The man they’d found with him – Kitty said Daken was calling him master, and protecting him – said it happened a lot. He said that Daken would be set off by random things and often try to kill himself. The only way to stop him was dosing him with a heavier dose of the chemical and terminate him. Kill him, he meant.
Hank was going to study the substance. Until he was sure of what could and couldn’t be done, though, he concurred it might be best not to tinker with Daken’s mind yet. That could mean hours, perhaps days, of this agony. Logan could hear the cries – his son’s cries – from the cockpit, where he’d holed himself up.
Laura and Daken were occupying a cot at the back of the Blackbird. She’d enfolded him in her harms protectively, holding him still. The boy had stopped trying to hurt himself; now he was just sobbing.
Rachel had told Logan, as they took their seats in the cockpit, that Daken didn’t know what they wanted with him. He was confused and hurting; he thought they might be his new masters. The telepaths thought that Soteira probably had never left Daken awake for long periods of time, so this new experience was doing numbers on him on its own, without going into the fact he’d been programmed.
This whole thing was badly affecting Rachel. She was green with nausea, her eyes blazing with righteous fury. She was thinking back on her own slavery, perhaps.
Slavery. That’s what this was. Slavery. And for what?
Logan seethed. They’d decided to take the Wolverine from his tomb, had said the vermin who’d been trying to leave with Daken; but then, when they’d realized the X-Men had caught up and were after them, and simultaneously found themselves with Daken in their hands… they’d decided to let Logan go, believing the X-Men would stop looking. And for what? All of this, for what?
For fucking corporate espionage, apparently. Business. Just to offer a service to ruthless companies. They’d taken a killing machine to sell to the highest bidder. Just that. No nefarious plans for world domination – just good old money. And oh, how much money there was to be had with this business.
They’d destroyed Logan, and then his son, for fucking money.
Every single person that had made it possible would pay for this. He’d take care of it. He’d leave Daken at the school, and go. Laura would take good care of him; she knew what she was doing. And Daken hadn’t reacted to her the same way he’d reacted to Logan. He was scared of him; Logan couldn’t do anything to help him. But this – this he could do. This, he knew how to do. He’d find every single one of Soteira’s members, and kill them slowly, and painfully. If it was the last thing he did, he’d take them all down with him.
He was good at killing, after all. That would never change. They’d wanted a weapon? Oh, they’d meet one. They’d be served justice.
He didn’t think that the people the X-Men had found at the facility were the only ones involved. There must be someone else. Someone to track down and punish.
No one hurt him – no one hurt his family – and lived to tell the tale, or make others think they could give it a try too. No one did that to his family. No one.
Once they touched down, he’d go. It was better this way; no speeches, no way for anyone to talk him out of it. He was set on this: it was the right thing to do.
Oh, they’d try. He could feel, skirting at the edges of his mind, Jean’s psychic signature. He knew it deeply, it resonated within him – it still unsettled him somewhat, but it was different in some way from what he remembered (rings of fire and cruel, mocking laughter), so that helped.
It was there, just skimming the surface of his thoughts, so she obviously knew what he was planning. She couldn’t let that slide and would certainly orchestrate an intervention.
He wasn’t going to be deterred by anything she threw his way.
Too bad it came in the shape of people he loved.
He smelt brimstone. It always lingered around Kurt, no matter how much time had passed from his last teleportation. It was a facet of his scent, just like petrichor was ’Ro’s.
A low blow on Jeannie’s part.
Kurt had stayed behind, but now he was in the cockpit. Rachel left without a word – she was the closest to Logan – and Kurt took her place. He didn’t speak; he just sat there – a steadfast, quiet presence.
’Ro would have said something by now. But she was in the other jet, and perhaps Logan preferred it this way. The both of them knew when to speak and when to be silent – he loved them so for it – but she was stricter with her words of reproach, despite the warm kindness beneath. ’Ro would have plunged ahead, certain of her conviction, but Logan wouldn’t listen to anything now. And Kurt’s silences were always as meaningful as his words.
Sneaky on Jeannie’s part, although a decision ruled by chance. She’d be gone for so long, and yet she read their dynamics with ease. He’d been gone for a long time too, and yet he’d slipped back into what they’d built those last few months after Kurt’s return, before his own death – that comfortable lull that was just the three of them. The moment they’d been reunited, there in Betsy’s room, it had finally clicked, ’Ro falling into place as well. The wariness he’d felt around her after his return had vanished when they’d become three again; together, they worked, each of them bringing balance to the other two.
He needed balance more than them, of course.
And Jeannie had seen right through it, even though she’d never seen the three of them together. And now – well, there was no other way to say it. She was using his affection to make him come to his senses. Sending Kurt to his side like a soldier in her war.
Her message was clear. He couldn’t go on a murdering rampage, not when the world stood on the brink of war against mutants. She couldn’t allow him to taint the image she was so desperately trying to project – that of a united, peaceful mutant nation. She hadn’t given him her pitch yet, but he’d seen what she’d been up to – he was slowly but surely catching up to all the things that had happened while he was gone, and her alliance with Namor and her fight with Cassandra Nova had been high on the list.
Jean was trying to make the world a better place. Nothing wrong with that – hell, it was a beautiful dream, something all of the X-Men had worked hard for, bled for, lost their very lives for – but some people didn’t deserve to live to see it. He couldn’t sit it out and play nice while some of the people who’d taken him and his son, who’d hurt them, who’d used them, were probably still out there and thinking of doing it again.
But if it meant going against his friends, going against those he loved – could he do it? Kurt and ’Ro were sold on Jean’s dream… even part of her team. Could he go against them? Could they go against him? He’d just found them again; he couldn’t tear their love apart.
Was Jean really going to make them all choose?
Kurt caught his hand and he turned, caught off-guard. The two of them had never been this open with their relationship, but he supposed he didn’t quite care as he gazed upon his elf’s kind yellow eyes. He exuded calm, and squeezed reassuringly Logan’s hand.
Why was he forced to choose between this warmth and what ought to be done? It was cruel. Cruel and necessary, perhaps; not so unlike the Phoenix then, after all.
But he couldn’t be deterred. His son’s cries were a reminder of what needed to be done, and he’d deliver. He had to.
He hoped Jean would be able to live with the choice she was forcing upon the three of them. Was she hearing his thoughts right now, spying on him, and determining a course of action? Would she have the guts to do it?
Why did it have to be this way?
God, he knew why. He was Wolverine, and conflict and death always followed in his wake. He’d thought he’d found some peace, in those last moments before dying; a kind of understanding of the good things in his life too. But now he was back, and all that was left was bloody revenge.
The landing caught him off guard, so focused was he on his own thoughts, on Kurt’s hand, on Daken’s sobs. He let Kurt urge him to stay seated as the others left the cockpit, knowing what was about to come and dreading it – hoping to salvage some last moments together. ’Ro was surely bound to appear too.
They listened in silence as Kitty organized the transportation for his children. Logan craned his neck to catch sight of them, there at the back of the Blackbird: they still lay so closely entwined that his heart clenched. He could hear Laura’s soft murmurs as she attempted to soothe Daken’s growing agitation; the hold door was open and the boy’s nostrils were likely being assaulted by the scent of even more people outside. Too many people. He was trashing about now – agitated again, horribly distraught, in such a state Logan’s chest hurt and he almost found it hard to breathe.
Kurt chose that moment – Logan’s defenses low, his mind filled with rage and grief – to speak. “Hey,” he murmured, and Logan was drawn to him like a magnet, striving for a distraction – anything to keep his thoughts off the weeping sight of his son. “He needs you, Logan,” he said softly, so softly; Logan recoiled.
“No, not me.” This was what they were going to play on? His goddamn guilt? Laura had pushed that button too, but he couldn’t put such nastiness on her. Bless her, she really thought that Logan could make a difference – that he could help. But Daken’s reaction to him was proof enough. For the boy to heal, Logan had to go. “Laura has it covered. They don’t need me.” His children had each other.
They were being lowered out of the Blackbird now, and Logan could hear Gabby’s frantic questioning as she saw them; they’d managed to make her stay put at the school, but now there was no way to keep her from seeing the damage. She was calling out for Daken, the little thing, her voice cracking; asking Laura what was wrong with him. Laura was reassuring her that all would be well, that they’d help Daken, that he’d heal.
But they didn’t need Logan for it. In fact, his presence would probably do more damage than good. This was why he had to go – go do something useful in its own right, something to fix what had been done.
“They do need you. Daken, and Laura too.” Kurt was caressing his knuckles. It struck him so, to be touched so gently where he was most dangerous. They did love to do it, to show him he wasn’t a dangerous beast. ’Ro would often kiss between his knuckles too, always so fiery daring. “Your family. And us. Stay here, Logan. Help them. Help yourself.” He bent to brush his lips against the back of Logan’s hand. It shocked his protestations out of him. They were warm, Kurt’s lips. Hotter than an average person’s. And so, so soft on Logan’s abused skin. “Don’t leave us so soon.”
Logan’s heart was in his throat. He couldn’t. It wasn’t – he wasn’t good at any of it. He didn’t know what to do. He’d make mistakes… he knew it. He’d ruin everything.
He’d stood mere inches from his son’s body, and hadn’t snapped out of what they’d done to him. He hadn’t saved him.
He’d killed him.
The fresh scent of rain on dry soil. He looked up to see ’Ro board the Blackbird, regal and kind and so beautiful. He was utterly lost.
He had to leave. Leave, and exact the Wolverine’s bloody vengeance. Leave the rest to Laura, let her pick up the pieces of Daken’s fragmented soul. He’d done enough damage to the boy; how could he be expected to be useful? Why did no one realize he’d only make a mess of it?
“Logan.” She was by his side now, his ’Ro. His goddess and his elf, both of them by his side. His pillars. He felt his resolve crumble already.
She took his free hand, linked their fingers together. She was warm, too. So warm.
“Leave it to us, Logan. The X-Men will deal with this.” There was a steel in her voice that he’d learnt to respect far before he’d realized he loved her. A spine-tingling, thunder-cracking pressure. “I’ll rain such terror on their hearts they’ll regret it’s not you going after them.” And God, he could believe her. There was the force of a hurricane beneath her voice. “Stay here, Logan,” she added gently. “Stay, and be with your family.”
It was the unrelenting nature of storms. It carried in her voice, left him stranded with the truth he didn’t want to face.
He was fleeing. Hiding. Running away. Always more focused on the next revenge, on some reason to not be there. And hadn’t he done enough of that?
His family did need him; he was just too scared to stay. He was always scared.
And, by God, this time he’d stay. He’d stay, and try to fix it all.
He wasn’t alone anymore, after all. No more excuses. Others would take care of the monsters; it was time he took care of his family.
This time, he’d do his damnedest best.
Notes:
Next: Laura protects her siblings.
.
[Logan and his fight/flight mode, amirite? This man has serious problems with taking responsibility. And dealing with trauma. And everything, really.
I like how both Kurt and Ororo counterbalance that. Neither of them take his bullshit at face value. And he respects them, the both of them, so much. They work well together. On that note, I’m treating this polyamory as already established, but sadly Marvel isn’t that brave yet. I’m sure there will be some drama with Ororo and Jean when he comes back in the comics.
Let me know what you think! Your comments keep me going ^-^ You’re also welcome to come chat at my tumblr, gealach-in-a-misty-world.tumblr.com ]
Chapter 10: Laura protects her siblings.
Notes:
Trigger warnings: attempted self-harm, distressed child, child harm.
I've added a few tags, please check them out. Stay safe!
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
10.
Laura wasn’t going to leave Daken’s side.
He’d latched onto her with the intensity of a scared child. He was so different from what she’d seen of Logan’s time in Soteira’s clutches: the monsters hadn’t created a cold-blooded mercenary, but a confused puppet. It broke her heart to see him so hurt and out of sorts. He went from manically muttering that he was defective and there was something wrong with his head, to sobbing bouts; and throughout it all he clung to her desperately, but not so hard to hurt her, not even lightly. He would wince and shake his head when his fingers insomuch as threatened to dig into her flesh; and a few times he accompanied that motion with a fervent whisper, seemingly reminding himself that he couldn’t hurt her – like he’d done when she’d stopped him from killing himself, at the facility. He’d stabbed her to get free, but then he’d almost frozen, panicked and desperate. He hadn’t even tried to use his pheromones against her – he still hadn’t, in truth, and that was worrying in itself; had Soteira blocked them somehow?
But she’d understood that the only thing that would protect him from himself was getting in his way.
That – maybe – meant he was still there, hidden beneath the layers that the chemical had formed in his brain. He was there, and he was fighting to come back to them… and Laura would be there for him, every step of the way.
She feared she’d be alone in that endeavor.
Logan was retreating to silence and fuming, but she didn’t have time for that. She didn’t have the time to deal with his doubts again, not so soon. She couldn’t constantly coach him through what needed to be done. She’d done what she could; now it was up to him. She couldn’t hold his hand while he panicked; there was someone else that needed her undivided attention.
She understood that seeing Daken like that must have hurt Logan just as much as it had hurt her. And seeing Daken so scared of him had upset him, of course. But he didn’t see that it was a good sign as well. Such strong reactions meant that they hadn’t managed to break him completely – the reason for his suicide attempts, no doubt. This also meant that triggering him – and awake his memories, his very essence – could end badly, like they’d witnessed… but his response to Laura was different. He trusted her.
He didn’t trust Logan.
So she could see that Logan keeping his distance, for now, was good. But he had to be there when they brought Daken back. And she feared he’d still stay away instead.
But still. She couldn’t worry about that now. She held the trembling body of her brother, and she’d shield him from the world.
Their arrival at the school had alarmed Daken. Too many people, probably; too much chaos, and he still didn’t know – didn’t understand – what they wanted with him. He was distressed, simultaneously trying to jerk away and hide his face against her chest; calming him down seemed impossible. Still, she did all she could, caressing his hair and murmuring reassurances – they’d help; he was safe; she was there for him.
Touching his hair seemed to help. He liked that: sometimes he let Gabby brush it, and he always closed his eyes in contentedness. Laura was glad that such a small thing from before bled through what Soteira had done. He wasn’t relaxed now, not really – he couldn’t be – but he calmed down enough to let the others move him and Laura to a gurney and then take them out of the Blackbird.
It didn’t last long. Gabby came out of nowhere, asking frantic questions. She was loud, and close, and undeterrable; all things Daken couldn’t handle right now. There wasn’t a flicker of recognition in his eyes, but rather of panic; perhaps later, with a quieter environment, they could try, but for now Gabby was just another element of disturbance. Laura reassured her that all would be well, that Daken was safe and they’d all help him; but she also tried to impart that now wasn’t the time to stand so close and attempt to engage Daken in a conversation that he wasn’t coherent enough to have.
She got it, thankfully. Her eyes lit with understanding – perhaps Jean had something to do with that as well – and she went quiet, a feat that was difficult to accomplish on its own. Laura called it a victory.
Still, Gabby followed along as they were led to the med bay. She wasn’t alone; Old Logan was with her, and Jubilee – Laura felt a pang of gratitude for her friend. It was good to have her so near, to know she supported Laura. Jubilee had always stayed with her, for her. She was, in a way, her rock. Always so cheerful and kind and ready to diffuse the tension, and so strong.
She was glad Jubilee was there.
As they left the hangar, the angle permitted her a good view of the Blackbird. Logan was at its door – flanked by Ororo and Kurt – and he nodded at her with an air of finality.
So he was going to stay, and fight. She felt lighter; she was ready to embark on this journey alone, but knowing Logan wasn’t going to run away – like he so often did – was a relief. He’d been so distant, after Daken’s death; always chasing something different every week, so volatile and desperate. Perhaps, she’d often found herself thinking, perhaps if he’d been more present at the time, she wouldn’t have been kidnapped by Arcade – perhaps he’d have noticed sooner, he’d have come to her rescue. People wouldn’t have died. It was one of the reasons why she’d distanced herself from him, after, why she’d decided to stay with the Original Five; some of the trust and affection she’d slowly managed to feel for him had simply gone. And she still mourned the bit of distance that had created, a distance never closed before his death – never touched upon.
She was glad he’d decided to stay. He’d overcome at least some of his self-destructive behavior, for Daken’s sake. That was good.
Don’t you think you should tell him how you feel?
Laura managed to not show outward surprise at the intrusion; she was accustomed to Jean by now. But it was Rachel that had just talked to her, not her mother. The telepath was walking ahead, beside Pryde; Jean and Braddock were elsewhere, tasked with the prisoners’ interrogation.
She didn’t like such breach of her privacy. I think now is not the time, she projected crisply, And none of your business either.
Fair enough. She couldn’t see Rachel, but she seemed to smell contrite. That’s not why I was contacting you. I need you to stay calm, for Daken’s sake.
Meaning? The fact that Rachel walked a few steps ahead of her and yet chose to address Laura this way alerted her.
Meaning I’m going to back you up, so don’t get agitated. Your brother seems to be very sensitive to your moods.
Okay. She could stay calm, or at least appear so. That was a skill she’d learnt young. Back me up on what? Subtly, she positioned herself to better shield Daken. Given the slight change in Old Logan’s breathing, he noticed. He’d be ready for whatever happened.
We’re going to help Daken, Rachel said. We’re giving him sanctuary, and we’ll help him in any way needed.
That was what Pryde had assured her already. But?
But Kitty feels your brother’s unpredictable right now. Rachel definitely smelt apologetic. And conflicted. She was betraying Pryde’s confidence; that was why. He tried to stab her; he’s brainwashed –
I know that. It came out more aggressive than what she’d have wanted to convey, but the slow approach was both grating on her nerves and alarming her. What has she planned?
She wants to contain him, just until we get him back. I won’t let her, Laura, Rachel added, because she was too dumbfounded to react. We can easily find another way –
“What’s that?” There was a screech of outrage in Gabby’s voice. Apparently they’d reached their destination. “Are you for real right now? Laura!”
That didn’t bode well.
Just remember I’m going to back you up, Rachel reminded her, and Laura acknowledged it and dismissed it as she slowly extricated herself from Daken’s frantic hold. Gabby’s high-pitched protestation must have upset him.
As she sat up and knelt beside Daken, her fingers automatically closing around his wrists, she thought that Gabby had been even too civil.
They were in the med bay. At the far end of it, a bed was ready for Daken, Hank waiting beside it with medical instruments for his check-up. He was grimacing.
The bed was made of metal. It could even be adamantium, for all Laura knew, and she couldn’t certainly put it past Pryde. A mattress lay over it, and it seemed comfortable enough, but that idea was diffused by the thick metallic bands on each side of it and at its feet, designed to hold a person down by their limbs. At the top were various straps. The bed was separated from the rest of the room by a robust glass wall, encased by metal.
Given how little time they’d had to prepare their little trap, one could almost commend them. Or perhaps the gear was already present at the school – for what, she didn’t want to know.
“How dare you?” she said quietly. Pryde had the good grace to look mildly uncomfortable, even if it was just for a moment. Then she clenched her jaw.
“It’s for his safety just as much as ours,” she shot. “There are children here, Laura. We can’t risk –”
“He’s not an animal,” Laura interrupted her, still so very softly. She could be calm, even if the sight enraged her more than Pryde had probably realized, her own memories cloying her like mud. “And he won’t be manacled in a cage just because you didn’t think hard enough, Pryde.”
“That’s a hard no from me too,” Gabby piped in before Pryde could formulate a retort. Laura didn’t turn to see her sister, but she heard the scowl in her voice.
“Seriously, Kitty,” Jubilee added, “what the hell.” Old Logan didn’t speak, but his heavy silence was good enough for Laura.
Pryde crossed her arms. “I have to think of the bigger picture. I’m sorry, but I won’t have him wander the school at night, murdering people in their sleep –”
“We’ll keep watch, Kitty,” Rachel spoke up, tapping two fingers against her temple. Laura had just been beginning to think when was the telepath going to ‘back her up’. “We’ll take turns. There really is no need –”
“Seriously, Ray?” Pryde turned on her, her face contorting – well, with an odd mixture of emotions, betrayal amongst them. She hadn’t smelt upset up until now, as she regarded her friend. “You said his mind’s a maze. You spent hours on Logan. Are you willing to bet the students’ safety on something you three admitted you can’t have a clear control over yet?”
Rachel grimaced. “Others can patrol this corridor –”
“I’m in,” Old Logan said quietly, but Pryde shook her head.
“Have you seen his videos? No? Well, I have.” They must have found something at the facility. “Logan’s videos, then?” Pryde continued with a grimace, “No, I can’t let this slide, I’m sorry.” Oh, she wasn’t sorry. At all. But she would be. Laura took a breath –
“Mistress?”
Laura didn’t know what shocked and enraged her more. That word? Or the deferential way Daken uttered it?
Either way, the stunned silence gave him an opportunity. He’d kept quiet, or weeping, up until now, so she’d thought he wasn’t coherent enough, or even lucid enough to understand what went on around him – but now he was half-sitting up, although making no attempt to free his wrists, and keeping his head lowered. And also turned towards her. This meant he was effectively bowing to Laura.
“They’re right, mistress. I could hurt someone. They can’t trust me not to. It’s the best solution, mistress, to be sure I stay put.” He sounded so reasonable and polite about his own imprisonment and he was talking to her. To Laura.
She shuddered, fought the lump in her throat and the rage in her veins. “I’m not your mistress.”
He held himself very still for a moment. “Then the intangible woman is my mistress?”
“Oy vey,” Pryde breathed. Gabby made a sound like a wounded animal. Laura didn’t have that luxury, though. She had to stay strong.
“No one’s your mistress,” she managed to say without her voice quivering.
“Nor your master,” Rachel added softly. She slowly took a few steps towards them. “Daken, you are a free man. And you’re hurt. Your mind has been hurt severely.” She reached out – Laura felt it, felt Rachel’s aura coming past her like a gentle brush, perceived it attempting to touch Daken… who shook his head suddenly, like a dog. Rachel stilled, a flicker of alarm in her eyes. “We’ll help you –”
But Daken was becoming agitated again, his teeth clattering, his head shaking violently. “No, I – I’m a good boy,” he muttered in desperation, “I can serve, I promise, I’ll be useful, I’m a good boy, I’m obedient, I’m not – I’m not defective, I’m not, I’m not, I’m not, I’m not, I’m not, I’m not, I’m not –” and on and on and on he went.
It was like at the facility. That broken, frantic repeating of the same word, over and over again. ‘He’s gone,’ the man they’d captured had whimpered as Daken slammed his head against the floor. ‘No way to make him come back from that,’ he’d added, looking around in fear, eyeing Logan – but they’d managed to make Daken come back from that. Laura had managed to get through to him, to stop his violent attempts. Without resorting to shutting him down, like Pryde was undoubtedly contemplating to ask Rachel as her fears were confirmed – he was volatile, and needed to be restrained.
Not on Laura’s watch.
She lowered her head, her hands tight around Daken’s wrists. She could see the movement beneath his skin – the tips of his claws almost resurfacing from between his knuckles. He was about to try to hurt himself again. He’d stop as soon as she got in the way, but in the meantime he’d try, and she didn’t want Gabby to witness that.
“Daken,” she said firmly. “Daken, listen to me. It’s all right. You’re safe. I’m here,” she stumbled as he began rocking on the gurney, but she managed to keep her balance. “We’ll solve everything, we’ll help, I promise, you’re safe, you’re safe –”
“Tell me again there’s no need to restrain him,” Pryde said, likely counting on the fact Laura wouldn’t stop her litany of reassurances to confront her. “He even agrees!”
“Shut up!” Gabby shrieked. And then she was, suddenly, beside them. “Daken? Daken, it’s all right! I promise!”
She was too close.
It was a moment. Laura was focused on Daken’s shaking body, on his wrecked voice; hyperaware of every minute movement he made and ready to stop him from harming himself.
That was her only focus.
So when he jerked violently his arm, in an attempt to free a hand and probably stab himself, she simply pulled back. She registered half a second later the wet sound, the crash of bone against cartilage, the yelp.
The blood.
She turned, overcome by dread. Gabby stood, a hand raised gingerly to touch her bleeding, flattened nose. She met Laura’s eyes and smiled, the fluid running past her lips, staining her teeth. “’s all ride,” she said, “’b healig, I’b good!”
It wasn’t – by far – the worst injury she’d ever sustained. In fact, it was a ridiculous wound that would heal in moments, and she didn’t even feel the pain.
It was just an elbow to the face. Daken’s elbow.
But for a split second, Laura feared for Gabby. She knew it was irrational. She’d seen her fight fiercely and dirty, she’d even seen her fight Daken – but Daken had been non-confrontational at the time, precisely focused on not hitting back. And now he wasn’t in control.
During that second of horror, she tightened her hold on Daken’s wrists – even too much, probably too painfully – but there was no need of it. He’d gone almost slack, and he was rubbing his face against the gurney, his words – albeit slightly muffled – clear and intelligible due to the stunned silence following the accidental jab. “Don’t hurt her, don’t hurt her, don’t hurt her, don’t hurt her, don’t hurt her, don’t hurt her –”
Gabby, already healed, went on cheerfully, as if nothing had happened. “I’m fine! See, I’m fine, it’s all right, it’s okay –” She even moved to comfort him, to lay a hand over his shoulder, but Daken sobbed and jerked away, and he would have fallen out of the gurney if Laura hadn’t caught him. But he probably didn’t even register the motion.
“I’m sorry,” he was muttering now. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry –”
At least he’d stopped trying to hurt himself.
He was there. He was still there, hidden deep in his own mind, and somehow he recognized Gabby too. He wanted to protect her.
As did Laura.
She looked around. Gabby stood there, her hand still raised, her sad eyes fixed on Daken. And Pryde – there was a grimace on the woman’s face. She didn’t dare utter a word, but when she met Laura’s gaze, it was clear what she was thinking: she was right, and Daken ought to be contained.
And, even if for a split second, Laura had thought that too. She’d feared for Gabby’s safety. And Daken would hate himself when he came back to them, if he truly hurt his little sister.
It clenched her heart, but there was only one thing to do.
She heard Rachel’s sigh. The telepath looked conflicted, rage and pity darkening her features. It was obvious she felt strongly about this solution, about Daken’s predicament. This went beyond decency, like it simply was for Jean and Braddock. This felt personal to her. After having seen her almost succumb to Mesmero, after witnessing her panic in Ahab’s presence, her rage at being turned into a puppet by Cassandra Nova – Laura understood the feeling. And she was grateful for it, really.
But Pryde was right.
Laura steeled herself and spoke directly to the woman. “All right. We’ll keep him in the room, but you have to take that thing out –”
“No!” Gabby gasped, “No, Laura, you can’t –”
“It’s all right, kid.” Jubilee embraced her from behind, her gaze on Laura. She nodded subtly at her – she understood what she was planning. Of course she did. “It’s going to be just for a little while, okay?”
Gabby shook her head vehemently, shock and betrayal all over her face. Her eyes were welled with tears. She didn’t understand.
But this was for the best.
Pryde cocked her head. She’d understood, too. Or perhaps Rachel had told her. “I can do that. You want beds instead?”
“One will suffice. A double, if you will.” Laura adjusted her hold on Daken, his wretched muttering still going. He was completely out of it.
She’d be there for him.
She was going to stay with him in the secure room until they brought him back.
Notes:
Next: Logan meets someone.
.
[Yes, no worries. No way in hell Laura was going to let Daken be restrained like that. That contraption doesn’t exist in the comics, to my knowledge, but I think that, with the number of times Logan gets mind-controlled, something like that could be there at the school, ready for a rainy day.
I wouldn’t be too hard on Kitty. Yes, we love Daken and we hate to see him like that, but she obviously sees a threat to the students. She did go a bit far, but I think her heart was in the right place – and she can be talked down.
I hope this wasn’t too hard to read! We’re going to see very distressed people for a while yet. Let me know if it gets too much – and if I forget to tag something, too. I try to be careful, but I’m only human.]
Chapter 11: Logan meets someone.
Notes:
Additional warnings: mentions of alcoholism and suicidal behavior
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
11.
Logan was loitering outside the med bay.
It was late, but he couldn’t sleep, restlessly tossing and turning. It had been a long, too idle day. True to her word, ’Ro had insisted that he rested as the X-Men investigated. She’d brought him to her room and left him there with Kurt as she joined the others. Kurt had done his best to keep Logan’s mind off things, but he kept going over what he’d witnessed at the facility – his son’s face covered with blood, his terror, his attempts to take his own life. Laura’s firm comfort. And Gabby’s worry, later, at seeing Daken like that.
His boy had found a family. Someone who cared for him, and took care of him. And Logan, once again, had found himself entertaining the thought that he didn’t need to be there, not really. Daken was in good hands –
But he needed more. He needed a strong front, a united family. Logan would rise to the challenge. He had the opportunity to do some good, finally. To mend something, to help his son heal.
And he’d done enough running. Daken deserved at least a try. If he didn’t want anything to do with Logan, Logan would comply – but he owed it to him to be there. Even if seeing his boy so terrified of him hurt like hell.
“It’s a good sign,” Kurt had told him softly, his fingers running through Logan’s hair. “It means he’s there, Logan. It means he’s fighting.”
It meant that, despite him supposedly making peace with Logan – that’s what Laura had told Logan, and he acknowledged that organizing a funeral did speak of that – Logan’s return had put a dent in it. Logan had killed him, after all. So with his murdering father gone, Daken had been able to confront his feelings towards him… but Logan’s return had brought some of that back. And it was feelings strong enough to bleed through the brainwashing. Hate, perhaps. Or something along those lines.
Hate, and love. Love for his sister: it must be strong to permit him to graze the hold that Logan himself hadn’t managed to escape upon seeing him captured and unconscious. That he was capable of feeling such affection for Laura made Logan proud. It meant his son wasn’t irredeemable.
And he was strong, too. He put Logan to shame; only a strong mind would have been able to resist what had been done to them. Where Logan had failed, Daken had retained enough control to be somewhat aware of what was happening, and even attempt to stop it – by harming himself. It was heroic, really: Daken would have rather died than letting those men use him as a tool.
Jean said that such resistance might be born of something else in his mind. She’d come by to update Logan: they were working on finding the other bastards. As for his son – Rachel, Jean said, had sensed something while they put him in the med bay. Echoes in his mind; the three telepaths had managed to feel it at the facility too, but then it had been too chaotic to discern. Now, though, Rachel had apparently sensed more. A shadow, looming deep. Traps and frameworks that Charles, years ago, had warned Logan about.
It was possible that whatever Romulus had done to Daken was the foundation for his resistance to the chemicals. Building upon it, Daken must have carved himself a small space inside his mind that was under attack, and he was reaching out somewhat – there were echoes, when he was distressed and went on repeating the same words. Amongst the cacophony, Rachel had heard something else. A cry for help.
When he went through those moments – the ones the Soteira bastard had talked about, the ones they’d witnessed too – when he seemingly lost his mind and attempted to harm himself – those were the moments when a spark of lucidity came through.
Meaning: when he was lucid, Daken wanted to die. And yet, he called for help too. Rachel had heard him, after all.
There wasn’t much to be done for now, though. Hank was studying the chemical. From his mind Jean had managed to glean that it was a nasty substance, and that Hank was even more sure they should wait. Daken’s mind was hurt enough – what if there was some self-destruction trigger ready to blow everything up at the mere attempt of rescue?
The sensible thing to do, Jean said, was to wait on standby, ready to assist Daken as soon as the effect wore off. By now they were sure it would; the Soteira goons had confirmed that, given their healing factor, both Logan and Daken had needed continuous injections. Now that Daken was free, it was only going to be the matter of a few hours. And then, Jean said, he’d need all the help he could get in order to repair his mind.
“But I didn’t need that,” Logan had said. Kurt had sighed heavily beside him as Jean regarded Logan with a sad gaze. “What’s the point,” he’d exploded, “if you can’t help him now, if you can’t relieve him now? If you think he’s going to repair his mind on his own? Are we to just stand and watch?”
“Daken will need support,” Jean had said. “Just as you. We don’t know how long you stayed in that bunker, Logan, your hurt mind coming back together.” He grimaced. After their trip in his mind to find answers, he did recall some of it. Jean nodded, knowing he remembered. “That must have been a nightmare,” she continued softly, “all sense of time lost, an immeasurable pain. What we can do, Logan, is avoid that for Daken. Help him find himself quicker – and less painfully. And after –” she trailed off. “I want to offer him help, to deal with all that trauma. Rachel feels too involved.” She’d shaken her head, saddened. “And Betsy’s a bit biased. I don’t know him, so I’ll do it.” Therapy. She was talking about offering Daken therapy.
The mere idea dumbfounded Logan. It seemed strange, but perhaps the kid really needed it. Jean would know; she’d skirted his mind, after all.
Jean had cocked her head, something indefinite in her gaze. Pity? “You may need that too, Logan.”
“Me?” He’d furrowed his brow, taken aback. “Therapy?” He exhaled a startled, uneasy laughter. Him?
“Ach, mein Freund.” Kurt had held him then. He smelt upset, and saddened too. Logan had pressed a palm against his Elf’s arm, confused. Why was this about him, all of a sudden?
“Logan,” Jean had said gently, “Don’t you think with all you went through – the both of you – don’t you think you need help sorting through all that?”
Sorting through all that.
No, he’d never thought he needed it. He’d always gone on with his life, confronting his pain and rage with violence and booze. Revenge quest after revenge quest, he’d never stopped a moment to consider getting help to sort through his past. He used to meditate; that helped. Why should he bare his heart to a stranger?
It was, he recalled, a point of contention with ’Ro, and sometimes with Kurt. He opened up, with them, in ways he’d never expected he’d be able to; he’d shared things he’d never thought he could voice. That was enough, wasn’t it? He felt it was.
Jean didn’t agree, obviously, but she left him to confront her suggestion on his own time. Kurt hadn’t insisted – nor had ’Ro, when she’d returned to the room some hours later. They’d had dinner and then they’d gone to bed early at ’Ro’s insistence, huddled together in a way that had once felt warm, and comfortable, and just.
But he couldn’t stop thinking about what Jean had said. He didn’t know if she was right about him needing help, but that was because he wasn’t alone. Companionship had been forced upon him, and then he’d began to seek it. His family – the X-Men – were so many, and one never lacked for opportunities to spill what troubled them.
His son, on the other hand, was completely alone. At least to Logan’s knowledge, Laura was the first person he’d ever welcomed to his life. With all the shit he’d gone through, was this the first time, in almost seventy years, that he had a confidante?
The boy had tried to talk openly to Logan, once. When he was working with Creed, when he’d kidnapped Evan and tied Logan up. He’d bared his soul in that room, lacing his confessions with threats. And Logan had only ever been condescending. Obviously he’d been preoccupied at the time, worried Daken would harm Evan, and then the kids in his care – but wasn’t that what Daken was too? His son, whom he should have protected? Whom had only found death at Logan’s hands?
And before that. His stunt with the bombs, the Wolverine doll hidden in Logan’s room. The panic in his eyes when Logan had confronted him on his relationship with Romulus, and the betrayal as Logan carved his wrist claws out of him. The odd silences as they searched for Cyber, that always seemed to be leading to something more than the barbed insults that came when Logan prodded him.
Had their every interaction been marked by misunderstandings? Had Daken been desperately trying to reach out without knowing how, like a wounded animal – only to meet incomprehension and disregard, until he finally decided it wasn’t worth it?
Charles had told him his son’s mind was filled with scars. And Logan hadn’t heeded him.
He’d wronged his son far worse than he’d thought.
It was these thoughts that finally kicked Logan out of bed. Both Kurt and ’Ro attempted to dissuade him, maybe thinking he was going to make a run for it – but they got quiet when he said he wanted to go visit his son.
“You want us to come with?” ’Ro murmured. She was heavy-lidded with exhaustion, but she’d get up in no time. Kurt, too. The Elf was half sat up already, a leg out of the bed.
He loved them so.
“Nah,” Logan bent to kiss them. “I’m fine. Get some sleep, darlings.”
So now he was outside the med bay. And yet, despite his resolution, shame won out. He couldn’t bring himself to enter; he wasn’t sure he could face the sight that was sure to welcome him. Daken, tossed in a cell to protect everyone else in the school; Laura, willingly staying with him to keep him some company and comfort him. She was stronger than Logan, that was for sure.
The corridor still held traces of others’ passage. Gabby, his old counterpart, Jubilee – they seemed to have stayed the most, orbiting in and out of the med bay. Gabby’s scent lingered by the door, as if they had to forcibly remove her. Her affection for Daken surprised Logan more than Laura’s; he wondered how did Daken act around her. He found himself aching to see it – to witness his son care for a small child. He thought he might burst with love at such a display.
He was stalling. And hadn’t he determined to stop doing that? It was just a door, even if it seemed an insurmountable obstacle. He only had to get past it, and then he’d see his son… and his Laura, who called him “father” so matter-of-factly, as if it hadn’t taken years to win her over.
His children.
His mind made, he moved for the handle – but he stopped, alerted by the sound of someone coming. Whoever it was, he was male, running, and Logan didn’t know him, although he seemed to have smelt him around the school already.
The boy – it was a student, one of the new ones – came into view and abruptly to a halt upon seeing Logan, muttering a “Fuck” under his breath. He looked disheveled and he had that look in his eyes, which Logan knew quite well, of a kid that is where he shouldn’t be and knows it.
“Got lost, kid?” Logan crossed his arms. The boy wore a designer shirt with a high collar and sported a ridiculous faux mohawk, and kept glancing at the door. Logan leaned against it, so he wouldn’t get any ideas. A fan of Daken? The mohawk could be a giveaway, but it wasn’t a trademark hairstyle, after all. Coupled with his destination, though, one had to wonder.
The boy grimaced. “Nope.” He took a step in Logan’s direction – evidently overcoming the effect Logan had on students these days. “Just in a hurry.” And he threw a not-so-surreptitious look over his shoulder. “Could you, you know, move?”
“You shouldn’t be here,” Logan said. At least, the others seemed to think so, if he’d evaded someone just to come here – and he didn’t want fixated strangers around his son, anyway.
“Says who? You and those suckers?” the boy snarled. “Look,” he added, somewhat desperately. “You can’t just keep me away! I have a right to know how he is!”
A right? Logan’s interest was piqued – although a shiver of alarm run down his spine at the feverish worry in the boy’s gaze. He was mixed race, Logan saw now; his eyes spoke of an Asian descent.
He changed the line of questioning. “Who are you, kid?” There was a strange flicker in his stomach, a sort of delirious, ridiculous hope –
“Zach!” Kitty dropped down from the ceiling, a menacing finger pointed at the boy. “You can’t stay here!”
Zach’s face contorted with rage. “Be real grateful you put that thing on me, teach.”
“Yes, keep that attitude. It’s going to help you,” Kitty said coldly.
“I hate you.”
“I’ll live.” Kitty waved a hand. “Get to your room, now. I’m sorry, Logan,” she added, turning towards him – just as the kid made a dive for the door. Given they both were in the way, he didn’t stand a chance.
“What’s happening, Kitty? Who is he? What does he have to do with Daken?” Logan struggled to keep the boy still. He was a little demon, wiggling madly; but the motion finally made Logan see the metal gleaning around the kid’s neck, hidden by the shirt. A dampener. He froze. “Are we blocking students’ powers, now?” he growled.
“Yeah, tell her!”
Kitty sighed. “Zach’s on probation. He –” she trailed off, pinched the bridge of her nose. “Why hasn’t anyone told you?”
“Perhaps you should have? Given you’re the boss?” the boy spat.
“Quiet,” they both said. Kitty sighed again.
“Zach was abducted by Daken –”
“I was not!” the kid protested, outraged. “You didn’t even notice I was gone!”
“- and then Daken used him – his powers – to attack the school,” Kitty continued, ignoring Zach. This must be the thing she’d referred to already, the reason why it had taken a concerted effort to finally make her agree to help Daken. So, his son had attacked the school – again – and kidnapped a kid – again. So he hadn’t changed that much, had he? Logan deflated. He’d thought – Laura had seemed so sure. Adamant, really. She saw the best in Daken, she thought him capable of change.
Had Daken simply tricked her? Logan’s funeral, him helping her for whatever Kitty had mentioned too – was it all a ruse to use Laura for something?
“Daken wasn’t really himself,” Kitty offered quietly, unexpectedly. Logan looked up at her. She was grimacing, but she seemed determined to set this straight. He felt a surge of gratitude, hope blossoming in his chest again.
“What do you mean?”
“Death Seed, yo,” Zach piped up. “God, that shit was nasty.” He shuddered.
Oh. Oh, but of course – Daken had been revived by the Apocalypse twins; Laura had mentioned it too…
Logan felt the blood drain from his face. “You mean he’s still infected?” He turned to the door. And they’d left Laura alone with him?
“Bobby took care of that.” Kitty sighed. “Long story short… the Seed was acting up, and Daken was trying to find a way to control it – to escape its control, really, Bobby said. He was using Zach to counter-attack it somehow – Zach can amplify and dampen people’s powers. Bobby blocked the Seed permanently, though, so no worries there. And he –” she tapped a finger against her lips. “He insists that Daken can’t be held responsible for what he did under its influence, or else we should hold him accountable for when he turned the world into a snowball too.” She shrugged. “I think he might even have let Daken go.”
“And Daken left me here,” the boy muttered, dejected. It disturbed Logan to hear him so hung up on this. He’d been kidnapped, after all, and yet – the power dampener, Kitty’s choice of words, his own protests – they seemed to imply a choice on the kid’s part. But Logan had already seen Daken try to convince a boy to use his powers for evil purposes, and so he was left wondering if Daken had forced this kid too. He seemed bewitched, like he had Stockholm Syndrome. He didn’t want to hear the answer, but he had to ask.
“Did – did he hurt you, kid?”
“Jeez, no!” Zach snapped. “Why does everyone ask me that? Seriously!” he spat. “You people are insane. He was amazing. He didn’t kidnap me, he rescued me from these idiots that didn’t even notice I was gone,” he repeated his early accusation. “And when he got all strange because the Seed was trying to – dunno, take over?” He craned his neck to look at Logan with a determined glint in his eyes. He seemed to be wanting Logan to get what he was saying, so Logan gave him his utmost attention. He deserved that, at least. “When that happened, he sent me away. Or he flung himself into this room he’d had made, that was like, impenetrable. And it could only open from the outside, meaning I got to do it, and only if I sensed the Seed had receded! He never lay a finger on me, okay? And I’m worried, because he was good and he left all al-alone,” he sniffled, although he seemed to be soldiering through it, pretending he wasn’t crying, “and these suckers say I’m acting out and he’s a bad influence and now he’s here and he’s hurt and they don’t even tell me how bad is it! How is he? Please tell me, come on,” he pleaded with a final whine.
Logan would have told him, really. He deserved at least that. Logan agreed with Kitty and whoever was in charge of the kid’s probation that Daken, even if he hadn’t ‘laid a finger on him’, had nonetheless preyed on him; and yet the fact remained that he’d been under an outside influence but had managed to restrain himself, favoring the kid’s well-being. He’d treated him well. The kid cared for him. Surely he deserved to at least know how Daken fared?
Too bad he didn’t know what to tell the boy.
Gritting his teeth, he made a decision. “Want to see for yourself?”
“Absolutely not!” Kitty exploded. “Logan, you can’t indulge him. You’ll push his recovery back!”
She was right, of course. The boy was fixated. And yet – he was also a hurt, angry kid desperately trying to reach out. And Logan didn’t want to cause another bitter descent into blind rage, if he could help it.
“I’m gonna be there, ready to walk him out. Trust me on this, Kitty. I know what I’m doing.”
She pursed her lips – but eventually she gave him a curt nod. “I am going to hold you responsible, Logan.”
“Seems right.” Logan nodded back. “Just prepare yourself, kid. He’s… not well.” He looked down. Zach had gone quiet at Logan’s proposal and throughout his exchange with Kitty; he still hadn’t said a word. He was gazing up at Logan with fear and hope – then they got replaced by that earlier resolution.
“Yeah, okay. Lead the way, teach.”
Logan took a deep breath, and went to open the door.
And found hell within.
Notes:
Next: the asset crumbles.
.
[So, after Iceman last year, Zach disappeared from Marvel comics – until earlier this month, when he showed up on Typhoid Fever: Spider-Man. However, I’m not going to work that into the fic, as it’s a really shitty deal for the poor boy and it doesn’t make sense either, implying Zach disappeared and was put in a horror mental hospital by someone for… reasons, I guess? (Sorry for the spoilers.) So I’m not going to use that.
The power dampener is canon, however. A throw-away line at the end of Iceman #10 informs us of it.
I think Logan is going in the right direction, don’t you? Let’s hope he doesn’t mess things up :P Let me know what you think! Your comments keep me going ^-^ ]
Chapter 12: The asset crumbles.
Notes:
Additional warnings: non-linear narrative, suicidal thoughts, telepathic intrusion. Also, make sure you’re up to date with the most recently added tags. Stay safe!
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
12.
The asset knew why his previous masters reset him.
Or at least, that was what he supposed happened, why he didn’t remember the things one of them had said. He must simply get reset every once in a while.
And that was because he’d get crazy. He’d get crazy and begin to hear a voice in his head, this strong urgent voice, and so he harmed people. Or he turned his claws against himself, ruining the merchandise. So his masters would reset him, and then he came back sane, not remembering anything.
He’d tried to explain this to the handler, the woman who was staying with him in the cell. He’d tried to explain it to the mistresses too. If they reset him, he’d be as good as new, ready to target whoever they wanted. But the mistresses all said that he had no mistress, and no master. That he was a free man. And the handler repeated it, firmly, all the times he told her.
The voice agreed. The voice said they were better off dead. Better dead than a slave.
It was becoming louder and clearer, and the asset was scared of that. What would happen when it got so strong it suffocated his own thoughts? He couldn’t harm himself – the handler got in the way, since she was holding him tightly, and despite his best efforts, he was possessed by the urge to cling to her too. And the voice – the voice knew her. It called her Laura. It called out for her often, but the asset still had control of his voice.
The asset didn’t know what to do. He didn’t even understand what was happening inside his mind. Was it the voice that made him want him to hurt himself? Or was it him, acting out in response, trying to counterattack the voice? The voice swung between saying it wanted to die and calling for help.
It wasn’t a conversation. He wasn’t talking with it – but it seemed to respond to what he thought.
One of the not-mistresses had said that his mind was hurt, and that they’d help. Were they going to free him from the voice? And yet, the not-mistress’ presence made the voice stronger.
So he waited until she left. He waited for the little girl – the one the voice said he couldn’t hurt – to be gone as well. He waited until they were completely alone, until some time had passed and he knew no one was going to return and it was just him and the handler, huddled together on a bed, in that room with impenetrable glass reinforced by metal. He waited, then he asked the handler.
“Are you going to make the voice go away?”
The handler
[Laura]
stilled, her breathing changed for a moment. Then she asked, quietly: “What does the voice tell you, Daken?”
The asset hesitated. Should he tell her? She wanted to help, didn’t she? It was just that he didn’t know what she meant by that. But he trusted her. Didn’t he? Or was it the voice, telling him to trust her? Should he even do what the voice said?
[God yes please Laura please help me. Help me.]
“Help,” the asset found himself saying. “The voice asks for help.”
She caressed his hair. “We’ll help, Daken. Have faith. It’s going to be all right soon.”
[When when when is it going to be all right it’s not going to be all right I’m trapped here I can’t be used again I won’t be used again you’ll kill me if I stay like this promise me promise me promise me]
“Daken?” The handler moved back a bit, her gaze studying him. Judging by the sway in his vision, the asset was rocking back and forth. Her concerned face came closer and then away, closer and then away. It was the voice, controlling his body. Or himself, fighting against the voice. He didn’t know. He didn’t know. “Daken, what’s wrong?”
“Kill me,” his mouth moved on its own. He bit his tongue, but the words kept coming. “If I stay like this, kill me –”
[I know you will I know you I trust you I know you’ll do what needs to be done]
The handler
[Laura, it’s Laura]
paled, her arms tight around him. “You’ll be fine, Daken. It’s going to pass, we’re sure of it. Your healing factor is taking care of it as we speak, I promise you’re going to be all right.”
[but if I don’t, if I stay like this, a slave a weapon a puppet you need to kill me, to kill me to end it, I won’t be used again, I will not -]
“- be used again,” he was saying, chanting really. He smelt his own blood in his mouth, its tick texture, but he couldn’t stop his lips, his teeth, his tongue from forming vowels and consonants. It was the voice, the voice was taking over –
“Daken, it won’t happen. It’s going to be all right, you’re going to get better soon, do you hear me? I won’t need to kill you, because you’re going to come back to me. To us. Do you hear me, Daken? Do you understand?” The handler
[It’s Laura!]
was speaking slowly, clearly, so that he’d hear her, that he’d pay attention to her. But how could he do that, when something, something was taking over and he couldn’t stop it, he could only
[roll over and take it like a trained dog, I won’t allow it, I won’t let anyone use me, you won’t let them do this to me, you will put me down, you’ll do what needs to be -]
“- done, promise me, promise me, promise me, promise me, promise me –”
“Daken, stop!” The handler
[it’s my sister and her name is Laura!]
held him tightly, her breath labored. He could feel her muscles flexing under the strain of keeping him still as he tried to roll over, to overcome her. His body was taut, his claws itching to come out to fight… he didn’t know what threat. He was floating in uncertainty and resolution and pain, so much pain, and he knew he wouldn’t be used, he would not be used, not again –
“What’s happening here?” A bellow resonated in the room. He winced, not knowing why, and the handler
[that’s my sister, my sister , Laura, her name is Laura]
managed to overwhelm him, pushing him until he lay on his stomach. She was straddling him, her palms manacles around his wrists, cold metal against his face – he was on the floor. They’d fallen off of the bed. He didn’t like that position, the vulnerability, the hot weight over him –
[it’s Laura, it’s just Laura, just her, it’s just her]
He didn’t like it and he struggled, but she was strong. “I think it’s wearing off,” she panted, “It’s wearing off, and he’s reaching out, and he –” She let out a sound. It was short and wet and it made his heart ache, his chest squeeze with pain, he didn’t want her to hurt, he didn’t –
[I’m sorry, you’re the only one, the only one who’s ever -]
“- seen me.”
“It’s all right,” she said quietly. “I understand.”
That same sound came out of his mouth.
“He what?” The voice from before. “Laura, what’s happening? Did he hurt you?”
[typical]
“No.” The handler
[Laura]
raised her voice. “He’s in pain, Logan. He’s in there and he feels there’s something wrong, he feels the shackles. He’s afraid. But it’s all right,” she added, her voice nearer. She must have lowered her head. “You’re going to be better soon, Daken, I promise. The telepaths are on their way, they’ll help y-”
[don’t let them touch my mind don’t let them don’t don’t don’t]
“Daken, calm down! It’s all right!” She was panting with exertion, again. He was wiggling as much as he could, trying to shake himself free, a panicked arrow straight through his throat, a manic, frantic terror, a certainty:
[no telepaths no telepaths no telepaths in my mind no no no no]
“Logan, stay there, your scent will upset him.”
“Mine won’t.”
“All right, but be careful, he’s –”
“I’ve dealt with Logan before. I know how they can get. Good thing I’m intangible, yes?”
“… Thank you.”
Other hands on him. It was the woman he couldn’t touch, one of the not-mistresses. She was holding his legs. He was trapped. He was trapped.
“Easy. Easy, it’s all right. They’re on their way. They’ll help. We’ll help.”
[I don’t need their help, no telepaths, no telepaths, I won’t let you, won’t let you -]
“- do this to me –”
“Whoa. He doesn’t like telepaths, does he?”
“With good reason.” The handler
[Laura , it’s Laura , please don’t do this to me, please, please, please]
moved over him to better hold him down. “Daken, I understand. I get it. But they’ll help, I promise. Do you trust me?”
[with my life. With my -]
“ – life.”
Wet sounds booming all around them.
“Logan, please get a hold of yourself.”
“He’s… he said… he trusts you –”
[making it all about him, of course, freshly returned but of course nothing changed, he’s always the same maddening, stupid, infuriating, with his tears, as if he had a right, he had no right, he had -]
“- no idea –”
“I know, son.” The male voice came softly, drumming against his eardrums. “I’ll be better. I promise. I’ll listen. I’ll be there for you. I’m here for you.”
[don’t make promises you can’t keep, old man. Don’t say you’ll stay because you won’t, you don’t, you don’t ever -]
“- stay.”
He felt drained. Pained and drained and so, so tired. He ached and there was something in his throat that hurt him so, a constriction in his lungs. A… sadness? He was sad. Exhausted. Disillusioned.
He was being let down. He was trapped, suffocated, betrayed. He didn’t know – he didn’t know what he wanted, because the voice was strong now and gave orders to his body and his body obeyed. He was feeling – he felt what the voice felt, what he thought the voice felt – what it projected?
He’d be erased, and there was nothing he could do. He’d lose himself, disappear –
[that’d be good. Just go. I was never mine anyway. This is a travesty. Ridiculous. Leave me alone -]
“Kitty, we’re coming in!”
It was a voice he’d heard before. One of the not-mistresses? The one that made the voice stronger. She wasn’t alone, there were other two scents.
“Give him space, I have him.”
The pressure left, but he was still glued to the floor. He moved – not his body, it wasn’t the voice, it wasn’t himself – he wasn’t controlling his body, it was something else moving his body, arranging him on his back. He gasped, alarmed, tried to flail, but his muscles didn’t respond. People – people around him, serious faces, soft gazes…
[telekinesis. Fucking telekinesis, the telepaths, it’s the telepaths , get them out, I don’t want them, I don’t want them, I don’t want them!]
[‘Daken?’]
[‘Daken.’]
“Easy now. Steady.”
[Leave me alone!]
“He’s resisting. He’s – so much pain…”
A hand grasped his. “I’m here, brother.”
[‘Daken, it’s all right. My name is Jean. These here are Rachel, and Betsy. You’re safe. We’re going to ease you back –’]
[Get out get out I don’t want telepaths I don’t want you leave me -]
“- alone, leave me alone –”
“He doesn’t want you!” a voice exploded. His heart gave a stutter… a sense of immeasurable shame. “Get out and let him – I dunno, leave him alone, can’t you see he doesn’t want your help?”
“His mind is knitting itself together,” a female voice explained. “It could hurt like hell. It will hurt like hell. We’re here to avoid that.”
“He’s fragmented.” Another female voice. “Floating. A bundle of broken thoughts, and we can guide him back to himself –”
“But he doesn’t want you to do that! Jeez, it seems clear to me!”
“Zach, you need to leave. It’s way past curfew.”
[Zach? Zachary? Zach?]
“Don’t you dare pull that shit, teach! I’m staying, fuck! It’s not right, what you’re doing isn’t right –”
Voice cracked by tears that wouldn’t spill. He was strong, he’d show he was good, he was worthy, he was brave. He could do anything he told him to do. He was a good boy, he’d make him proud. He’d be so proud –
[‘Look, he’s –’]
[‘Yes. Get ready.’]
[‘Oh, God.’]
He’d show him … he’d show him he was worthy of his attention of his love of his pride. He just had to stop crying –
He rolled his eyes. There, at the edges of his vision, a kid staring at him, pale and worried, sniffling back tears. A kid he’d wronged. He’d turned him into himself, he’d turned himself into him, like looking into a distorted mirror, and he’d never, never forgive himself for that, never…
I’m so sorry, Zach. I’m –
“- sorry.”
Something slot into place, blinding him, his brain on fire, his mind on fire, a cacophony in his ears, his eyes his nose his mouth, pain, so much pain, he could take it he’d always taken it never show it hurts never show the toll never scream never cry never shake never never never never
‘Daken? Daken?’
‘Can you hear us?’
‘Daken?’
‘Daken? Follow our voices!’
Daken, yes. That was his name. Forged in blood and tears and pain. Tempered with hot irons and chafing ropes and need. Hammered with every hit, every crooked smile, every biting caress. With sharp nails and canines and eyes made of nothing. Every inch of him claimed, his mind a plaything. His unconditional love, taken for granted and discarded. Malice slithered inside him like a disease, corruption of the worse kind, a young boy taken in and molded like the ghost who made him shudder every time he closed his eyes.
Did he really deserve salvation, when he’d wronged a kid just a little older than he’d been?
He slid away. Further, further… into the waiting darkness.
Notes:
Next: Laura takes matters into her hands.
.
[Just a bit of clarification, because Daken’s thoughts are jumbled and confusing here, and it might read as something else: the “past rape” tag doesn’t apply to Zach.
I hope this chapter wasn’t too emotionally draining! Remember to always check the warnings, and feel free to hop off the train anytime… I’ll understand ^-^ ]
Chapter 13: Laura takes matters into her hands.
Chapter Text
13.
Something was wrong.
Daken had stopped writhing on the floor, and now he lay motionless, his eyes staring lifelessly at the ceiling. He was still breathing, and his hand was warm, his blood still flowing, his heart beating steadily – those things should quench Laura’s worry, should make her ascribe his state to the fact that he was in the process of recreating his mind from the mess the chemicals had made of it.
But the telepaths’ faces told another story. Their frantic heartbeats, the crease of concentration on their foreheads, the utter panic that contorted for a moment Rachel’s features before the woman took a hold of her expression… Something was very, very wrong. Laura looked from telepath to telepath, hoping for an explanation or a reassurance, but their eyes were as vacant as Daken’s, though alive – their effort clear.
“What’s happening?” she asked, wondering if they could even hear her – her question drowned by the far more demanding and deep voice of Logan.
She glanced up at him. He stood frozen behind the glass, where he’d confined himself, for his scent would trigger Daken. She feared there was nothing to trigger anymore, and then bit her tongue at her negative thought. She had to believe all was well. She had to believe all would solve.
“What’s happening?” she repeated. Logan was ashen, the lines on his face stark and deep with worry; his feverish gaze fixed on the still body of his son.
“Kitty, what’s happening?” he breathed. The woman, who’d moved away when the telepaths had closed in on Daken, stood near the boy – Zachary – a hand still on his arm from when she’d tried to make him leave. Her brow was knitted as she studied the scene before her. Laura shifted slightly, and checked Daken’s pulse with her free hand even though she could hear his heartbeat. It was slow, as if he were in a deep slumber.
“I don’t know,” Pryde said quietly. “I’m sure there’s nothing to worry about –”
She couldn’t possibly believe her own words.
“Is he okay?” the boy’s quivering voice made Logan wince. He tore his eyes away from Daken and stared vacantly at him, then back at his son. “Is he – he…” Zachary sniffled.
“He told you he was sorry,” Logan said suddenly, his voice cracking. “He told you he was sorry and then he went all crazy –”
He had. A few long, agonizing moments of witnessing her brother writhe and move his jaw as if he wanted to scream but wouldn’t, her hand firm and comforting around his – and then he’d stilled.
Daken’s voice had sounded far more wrecked as he apologized to the boy, than during all the broken half-sentences that he’d managed to push past his bloodied lips until that moment.
She’d done her best not to be affected by anything that forced its way out of his mouth, his mind struggling to tear off the web that trapped him inside the puppet. She’d controlled herself, because any distraction meant doing him a disservice, and she had to keep him safe. So she’d steeled herself as he begged her not to bring telepaths in, for she knew it was for his sake; she’d clenched her jaw, tears threatening to spill, as he told her things he’d never dared to, no words ever needed between them. She knew he trusted her, just as she trusted him; but to hear him say so, knowing he’d never have said it had he been in control of what he was saying – that was, in itself, a breach of his privacy. ‘You’re the only one who’s ever seen me,’ he’d murmured, so quietly.
He was a reserved creature, and this was a violation. It would save him – she had to believe it would – but it was, nonetheless.
And then it had gone even worse. Had he been self-aware, he’d have never found himself around Zachary in the first place – but he was here, although not quite, and so he’d apologized. And from the lost look in Zachary’s eyes, she knew that the boy had no idea why, nor could he fathom why Daken’s voice had been so wrecked.
The truth was that Daken was consumed with a terrible sense of shame about the boy’s kidnapping. And she’d seen the worst of it: after Daken’s attack at the school, she’d tracked her brother down. She’d defended him in front of the X-Men, of course, knowing already about the Death Seed, knowing he’d been worried about its influence – but then she’d gone after him, both to check on him and to ascertain that the threat was truly gone. She’d found him in one of his safehouses, one of those she knew about: a telltale sign that he wanted to be found, even though he tried to chase her away the moment she walked in. He was in a horrible state, unkempt and aggressive, reminding her of his worst days on Mystique’s plane.
He was pale, and remarkably tight-lipped, but she had managed to ascertain that he regretted the kidnapping immensely. As far as she could tell, he hadn’t hurt the boy, but that hardly mattered to him. He’d – his voice had lowered to a grief-stricken whisper – he’d been training the boy. That such training simply meant camping in the woods and teaching self-control techniques hardly mattered, as well, when those things had been tinged – looming in the background, tasting like acid in his mouth, always ready to spring like a deadly disease – by the darkness of the Death Seed. The training hadn’t gone to entail bootcamp or the worst things he’d never told her, but it could have happened in a heartbeat, and he despised himself for not being able to counter the influence of the Death Seed, for dragging the boy into it, for almost, almost, recreating the patterns of his own abuse.
Not that he’d used that word. He never did. But he didn’t need to either. She had eyes.
“You did fight back,” she’d told him then, quietly. But he wasn’t listening, his eyes alight with a feverish, self-loathing glint. “You fought the Death Seed, and Zachary didn’t get hurt.”
“But he could have.”
He could have. That thought was poison in Daken’s mind, and though she’d eventually managed to return him to a sort of functionality, she hadn’t been able to dispel that niggling, horrifying certainty. Muramasa had been wrong, or rather not entirely right, when, weeks later, he’d told Daken that his healing factor was held back by his guilt regarding Logan’s death. There was another guilt that ate at him, deeper and sharper; and the meditation that had eventually allowed Daken to be ready for Muramasa’s task hadn’t truly healed him from it. Evidently, it had just pushed it all under a carpet – ready to get out again at the slightest reminder. So strong that it had reached Daken even despite the chemicals in his brain.
Otherwise, Daken wouldn’t have sounded like that, right now. He wouldn’t have sounded like he was choking on his words.
And she didn’t like the succession of events. The apology had been followed by something that was clearly hurting him, judging by the way his body had contorted and the hitch in his breath. He hadn’t screamed, but that didn’t mean anything. And then, after a few long, terrible moments, there had come the silence, and the stillness.
She didn’t like this silence, nor the telepaths’ expressions. She didn’t like the way herself and the non-telepaths all waited for something to happen, too shocked and worried to do otherwise. Logan couldn’t avert his eyes, nor could Zachary. And Laura – she felt useless like this, her hand tightly holding Daken’s in a mockery of comfort. What good could it do, when they didn’t even know what was happening in his mind, or the reason of this wretched silence -?
Jean’s breathing changed and Laura immediately turned her attention to the woman. Her gaze was clear and she was blinking quickly, her eyes darting between Laura and Logan. “I’m afraid he’s letting go,” she said softly.
Laura’s chest tightened painfully. She should have known.
“What do you mean, letting go?” Logan cried out. “Do something!”
“We’re holding him together,” Jean murmured. “But that won’t be enough. He needs to want to come back, and –” She trailed off, shutting her eyes for a moment.
“You said you’d help him,” Logan choked out. “You said –” He shook his head, and he gritted his teeth, and he came into the room. There was no need to worry about his scent anymore. He approached quickly, but haltingly, and fell to his knees beside Daken. “Son? Can you hear me?” Hesitantly, he laid out a hand, grabbed Daken’s own. He held it reverently, as if he hadn’t ever touched his son kindly, or he’d never been allowed to.
Laura knew that to be the case. She knew Daken must have never let him. Always fighting, always angry. Always so lost.
He needs to want to come back. And he didn’t want to.
There must be something she could do. Something to make him see he was needed, and loved, and cared about. Something to show him there was still so much to live for –
“Son?” Logan was still trying to get through to him. “It’s gonna be all right. I’m here, son. I’m here for you. Please come back –”
But no answer came, and Jean still hadn’t said how could they fix this, as if there was no way to. But Laura couldn’t believe it possible. She refused to give up. She couldn’t forgive herself if she didn’t at least try; she could never look Gabby in the eyes if she let this happen.
She tried to meet Jean’s eyes, but the woman was looking intently at Zachary. The boy was crying quietly, silent tears streaming his face; Pryde had let go of his arm, and looked like she wanted to embrace him but didn’t dare to, knowing that would be met with fury.
Why was Jean looking at the boy? Had Laura’s instincts been right? Had he something to do with Daken’s decision? Had Daken’s shame won out, polluting his will to live?
Not that he’d been that positive to begin with, begging her to kill him if they didn’t manage to bring him back. Laura felt a lump in her throat. There had to be some way! Why couldn’t she do as with Logan – acting as an anchor of sorts, helping the telepaths, helping Daken himself?
“We can try that, yes,” Jean said, answering to her thoughts. Logan stopped his litany and looked up at the telepath.
“What? What can you do?” he panted, hope in his tear-filled eyes. “Please tell me you can help him. Please –”
“We’ll do our best, Logan.” Jean smiled sadly. “I can’t promise more than that.” Logan nodded, wide-eyed and white-faced, his lips a thin line. Jean turned her attention to Laura. “This will be more difficult, Laura. You can’t slip like you did with Logan.”
“I won’t,” she said simply. “Tell me what to do, and I’ll do it.”
Jean cocked her head –
And they were elsewhere, trapped in a slick darkness not too dissimilar from the one they’d encountered in Logan’s mind. This felt different, though. Sharper, full of intent and malice. A cold void that made her skin crawl. She burned with the need to see, to turn up the light, to flood the black with blazing white. To show Daken life. To bring him back –
Stop that. Something warm on her arm. Jean’s voice, beside her. It’s swarmed with traps. We’re taking care of it; don’t try anything on your own.
I’m not doing anything, she protested.
You’re trying to reach out, Jean said. You’re untrained, and it will hurt if you persist. A shard of telepathy isn’t enough to fight against this.
A shard -? Laura shuddered. So it wasn’t her imagination, that strange feeling that sometimes itched at the back of her mind. Had Sophie left something behind… a part of herself?
She did, Jean said simply. It’s not enough to actively use telepathy – but it gives you an edge. It’s why you were able to influence the reception with Logan, and we hope it will work here too.
I see. She wondered if this was the case for Gabby too – if Esme had left something inside her. The thought was disquieting; but Jean would have said, and acted promptly, if that was the case. These traps? she asked, returning to the matter at hand.
They’re peculiar, and very complex, Jean said distantly. Laura got the feeling that the woman wasn’t truly with her – she must be miles away, battling against the darkness, together with Rachel and Braddock. It was a thorough work that put them here. They’re embedded in him, but they’re not what I’m worried about. We can sidestep them easily –
You want to leave them there? Laura asked, vibrating with disbelief.
They’re part of him, Jean explained patiently. A disgusting violation, but they’re also the reason why Daken was able to resist to a degree. We certainly can’t touch them while his mind is still shattered. If we succeed, and if he lets me, I’ll see what I can do about them, but for now it’s not our priority.
Of course not. The priority was to bring Daken back. You said – he’s letting go.
Yes, I’m afraid so. Jean squeezed her arm. You know about Zachary.
Yes -? If there had been air around them, Laura would have taken a shaky breath at that. So she’d been right – or perhaps she’d sensed it, thanks to Sophie’s “gift” to her: Daken’s current state had something to do with the boy.
That’s correct. Warmth engulfed her; Jean was embracing her protectively, or so it seemed, as they slowly vibrated, seemingly moving away, or towards something – psychic signatures, perhaps? Before he let go, Daken was in the process of knitting himself together. And he was rebuilding his sense of self around Zachary; he felt – he feels – in some ways, akin to the boy. It was unfortunate that he noticed Zachary just as the chemicals wore out of his system; I was hoping to build on his relationship with you. It felt more balanced, even at the facility. Overwhelmingly positive. We’ll have to see what we can do with it now. I’m hoping we can still use you.
Wait. Laura hesitated. He was returning? But then what happened –? She understood even before Jean answered. She recalled, again, the bags under his eyes when she’d found him, freed from the Death Seed; his vehemence, and the absolute self-loathing.
Exactly, Jean said softly. He lost himself in his guilt, and in the ghosts of his past, until he deemed his continued existence a slight. If we hope to bring him back, Laura, we need to show him nothing’s unsolvable. You need to show him you care for him.
I do, Laura said firmly. I do. And others besides. Gabby, and Logan – God help him, their father was trying. He was there for Daken. I’ll show him.
Good. A small flicker in the warmth around her. We might see things you know nothing about, Laura. You’ll have to stay sympathetic, and nonjudgmental. Do you think you can you do that?
Laura felt a small twinge of irritation. Of course she could. He was a half of her; they were bound by more than mere blood. They knew the cruelty of man, and resilience, and horrors the likes of which few had seen. They were survivors.
He’s my brother, she said instead. Lead the way, Jean. I’m prepared.
‘I trust you with my life,’ Daken had said. Well, Laura would see that that trust was well placed.
So she followed Jean. They stepped out of the void – out of the delicate, monstrous framework – and into the recesses of Daken’s mind.
To find him, and bring him home.
Notes:
Next: Daken makes a decision.
.
[I hated how Sina Grace had Daken act towards Zach. It’s canon that he was influenced by the Death Seed, but Grace didn’t explore all the ramifications. There were some panels that really made me shudder with the Romulus parallels, and I think that once the Death Seed was gone, Daken must have dwelt on it. Sadly canon didn’t provide us with this, so I took it upon myself.
The Sophie-Shard is kind of canon. We still haven’t seen how that will affect her on the long run; for now it’s just a sort of presence that Laura feels sometimes.
Let me know what you think! Your comments brighten my day ^-^ ]
Chapter 14: Daken makes a decision.
Notes:
Additional warnings: Self-harm, suicidal thoughts, self-hatred, implied fratricide.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
14.
It was a strange setting they found themselves in.
A sort of library, barely lit by a sick, shaky light. The walls were stacked with scrolls; the air smelt of humidity and mold and dust. Laura felt a weight in her chest, an oppression. The room was large and ancient and completely deserted. Where was Daken?
Quite a collection, Braddock murmured from her right. Laura turned to see her and Rachel too, the both of them materialized beside her and Jean. What might these be? Memories? Or – The woman laid out a hand, brushing her fingertips against a wooden roller. She jerked minutely, a gasp falling from her lips.
What? Laura reached out to do the same, but Rachel grabbed her wrist.
Not now, she said. She was pale, her eyes wide and alert. A hint of nausea tinged the lines around her mouth.
Rachel, Jean said softly, you think you can stay?
Yeah. Nodding grimly, Rachel let go of Laura’s hand. Laura let it fall to her side, her eyes darting between the scrolls. Her insides churned, but she was a guest here; she wouldn’t deconsecrate more than she had to.
What should we do? she asked, turning to the telepaths for directions.
Call out to him, Jean said simply. Our voices mean nothing to him, but yours was a beacon even while he was trapped.
And if he doesn’t answer? Laura grimaced. He was still trapped, after all. Differently – manacled by himself, lost – but still trapped.
We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it, Laura. Jean smiled in encouragement. Call him.
Very well. Laura stood at the center of the aisle and called out to her brother. She infused all her love in her voice; all the things that came to her mind, images of comfortable domesticity and tentative bonding. Gabby’s smile, and her delighted laughter, and her pout that always melted Daken’s resolve. And she recalled their own trials, and their shaky start, that had found them clashing but ultimately in agreement. The way he’d shouted her name as she fell to the ground, drained by Siphon; his support after she faced her mother’s clone. His gift of a body to grieve her mother. Kneeling beside him in front of the urn containing their father’s remains. Seeing him touch reverently the small portrait he’d painted of his mother. Sitting at his bedside on Mystique’s plane, day after day, talking of nothing, trying to keep him alive. Grabbing his hand as he gritted his teeth and spoke with a dead voice and recounted what he’d done. Every scene, every image, every shining memory impressed upon her voice, her call, her plea.
I love you, brother. I’m here. Please answer. Come back to me. Come back, Daken.
And eventually, something answered.
A spark, at the end of the isle. Laura broke off, her heart leaping to her throat. She started in its direction, hope blooming in her chest, and felt the telepaths beside her as they all moved towards it. She felt – a sort of pull. Faint, but luminous, and tangible.
Laura, Jean said, something abrupt in her voice giving Laura pause. This is merely the kernel he managed to build before he let go; it’s not all of him. He might be different, she warned.
But Laura was prepared. She’d face anything that came her way; anything they found at the end of the tunnel.
It was the blood that hit her nostrils first. Strange as it was, in this place where senses didn’t need to work, she could still smell exceptionally well. And she smelt blood.
She covered the rest of the distance in a few long strides, her heart hammering in her eardrums. She sensed, before actually seeing them, the paths crisscrossed on his arms, because there was a time when she’d drawn them on her own.
Daken! She fell to her knees beside the form propped up against a bookcase and caught, as gently as she could, the claws violating the tender flesh of his forearm. Daken? It’s me. Laura.
You shouldn’t be here. Despite everything – the terrible situation, the ordeal they’d faced, her worry – she almost laughed in relief at hearing his voice, so close, so matter-of-fact… as if nothing out of the ordinary was taking place, as if he was scolding her for her taste in clothes, like he would sometimes.
He’d answered her call, and now he was trying to send her away. That, more than anything else, gave her the certainty that nothing was lost yet.
I most certainly should be, she murmured, firmly pushing his hand away from his arm. He let her, his head rolling against a shelf with a sigh. A flicker of light reached his face and Laura stilled.
He looked – old. There were wrinkles around his eyes, his skin almost sagged against his cheekbones, his hair grey. He looked… he looked his age.
He caught her gaze. Get out, Laura, he breathed. He sounded exhausted, and her chest ached painfully. Leave me here.
To hurt yourself? she said softly. She wasn’t going to relent. She wasn’t going to abandon him. You don’t have to, Daken. It’s all good –
No, it’s not, he contradicted her. It never has been, Laura. It’s a void, swallowing me whole – the word vibrated with a hidden meaning, an echo behind it. Straining her ears, she heard the frantic whisper of a terrified child: Mu.
She grasped his hands. I’m here, she told him. She felt a surge of approval from behind her – Jean’s, maybe. She wondered why the telepaths wouldn’t reveal themselves and help her, but Daked had made it clear he didn’t want them. It appeared this was on her only. I’m here, Daken. You’re not alone; we’ll face everything together. I promise.
You can’t face the void. Daken shut his eyes. There’s something rotten inside me, Laura. Cold and hard and unforgivable. And I won’t ever rid myself of it –
This was about Zachary. About the Death Seed, and his terror. Jean had said he was stuck on that guilt. But you have, she interrupted him, her hands tight around his. Zachary’s safe, Daken. You didn’t do anything to him.
I could have.
But you didn’t. Laura shuffled closer. He looked so frail and old and desperate, a puncture wound in her heart. Don’t measure yourself against what an outside influence made you do, Daken. It wasn’t your fault. And it’s gone now. You’re safe –
But none are from me! h e snapped, pulling his hands away – cradling them to his chest. It’s not outside, Laura. It’s in me, a disease, a void in my heart, and he put it there. He shuddered. And I won’t ever, ever rid myself of it. Better stay here. He was rubbing at his chest, and while her first impression was that he was referring to the Death Seed – fearing Iceman’s countermeasure wouldn’t hold, maybe – the way his mouth contorted at saying he, the way the vibration resonated again within her, echoing with that word, Mu, a child’s terror behind it, finally tore the veil.
She cursed her incompetence. Jean had spoken of ghosts of his past, but Laura hadn’t dwelt on it as she was confronted with the shivering, incomplete manifestation of her brother’s mind. But now she saw clearly. Mu: a Japanese word for ‘nothingness’ and thus ‘void’ too, but also a syllable inside the name of the monster in Daken’s closet.
Daken. Gently, she placed her hands over his, lacing their fingers together. He ducked his head, avoiding her gaze, but allowed her this contact. You’re not what Romulus made you into, she said slowly, softly. Daken shuddered.
I’m –
You’re what you made yourself into. She pressed her hands to his. You clawed your way out of his clutches, Daken, and you’re here now. You’re a survivor, not a monster. He tried to make you into one, but he failed.
I was already! Daken shook his head. You don’t understand, Laura. I’m better off dead. I hurt everyone and everything. I hurt you too, and I’ll hurt you again. His voice broke.
He was referring to when he’d sold her to Malcolm Colcord. But that had happened years ago, and they were past that now. She knew him. She forgave him.
I’ll survive, she assured him. I’m a survivor too. I did terrible things too, Daken, but I was made to, just as you were made to. You can’t hold yourself responsible for what he did to you.
Daken laughed. It was long and breathy, a tinge of hysteria in it, his shoulders shaking. I was rotten from the start. He only built on it. The Death Seed only built on it. That’s what I am, deep inside: a monster, Laura.
I beg to differ, she said quietly. You know good from wrong. And when you think on it, you act accordingly. The mere fact that you regret what you did in your life means that you aren’t a monster, Daken. You’re my brother, and Gabby’s brother, and a loving one at that. You’ re –
He laughed, again. This time there was an edge, like broken glass in his throat. A loving brother! What kind of loving brother kills his baby brother, Laura?
She was taken aback at that – an edge of alarm crawling under her non-existent skin. Jimmy -?
Jimmy’s safe. Better off possessed than around me. He raised his head, a manic light in his eyes. It was disconcerting to see them set on that old face, to see lines of guilt and weariness upon his skin. Was this how he felt?
Not all the time, a whisper nudged her. It seemed Jean’s voice. This is a facet, Laura. Just what he managed to build. Help him find the rest. The light, too. The happiness.
I don’t know how, she admitted, gazing upon her brother’s eyes. There were ages of pain in them; so much, for so many years, all coming together now. She squeezed Daken’s hands. I don’t know how.
You’re doing great. A gentle breeze against her shoulders. Rachel’s voice. It’s difficult to find one’s own humanity when stripped of it for so long. You know this better than most. And Rachel did too. Perhaps she would be of more help than Laura, being a telepath. Laura was utterly out of her depth here. Perhaps –
Don’t despair. This was Braddock. You are doing great. Keep going. Don’t confront him on his brother, not now. There was something strange in her voice, something Laura sensed faintly. As if Braddock knew something. And after all, hadn’t she brushed her hand against a scroll before? Focus on the rest, Laura. On the good things. On your love.
Yes. Bringing her attention back to Daken, she found him s miling in some sort of deranged, yet oddly peaceful way. Daken?
It’s all right, Laura. He closed her hands into fists, and pressed them against his chest. I know it’s for the best. Kill me here, and I’m sure my body will die too.
I’ll do nothing of the sort! She tried to free her hands, but his hold was firm, despite the old age of this manifestation. But this was his mind – and his rules – and he must retain a modicum of control over it.
No? Isn’t that what you were discussing, in consultations with the telepaths? I know they’re here, he added, and I can only imagine their horror at seeing my mind. It’s all right, Laura. Do it. Put me down, like the rabid dog I am.
You’re no dog! The snarl didn’t come from Laura. It didn’t even come from Rachel, though Laura had half-expected it. No, when the white-hot rage subsided, allowing Laura to see again, she saw Jean kne eling beside Daken. You’re human, she was sa ying gently. You’re a human being.
So much for not interfering. Braddock sounded mildly amused. Then there was a flicke r of alarm. Jean, Rachel’s –
I know. Go. Jean didn’t turn to acknowledge the two telepaths more than that, focusing on Daken. Laura felt them leave, a dull twinge of pain coming from what she thought was Rachel – but then all her attention was on her brother too. He was trying to put some distance between him and Jean, but Laura was in the way, and he collided against her, hissing like a caged animal.
Get out of my mind, witch, he snapped, pressing his back against Laura. She held him gently, hoping the contact would calm him down, but he wasn’t heeding her, all his body turned towards Jean in a defensive position. Either you terminate me, or you leave. You won’t gaze down in pity at the freakshow, I won’t allow it –
No pity. Respect. Jean held out her hands in a pacifying gesture, but she didn’t touch him, likely guessing it would only set him off more. I respect you. You survived terrible things, and you’re still here. Trying to be good. Being a good brother. I want to see you thrive, Daken. I think you deserve it.
Deserve it? Daken barked a laughter. Look around, witch. See for yourself, and then try to say it again.
I will not pry while your mind’s so fragmented, Jean rested her hands on her lap, her clear eyes fixed on Daken. You can’t give me permission, not like this. You’re not yourself.
An ethical telepath. He scoffed. That’s a first.
Jean smiled kindly. I’m hoping one day I’ll be able to show you that a telepath can tread with respect. If you’ll let me. She turned her hands, to show him her palms.
There won’t be a “one day”. I won’t be there. And there was such finality in his voice!
Laura made to speak, but Jean caught her gaze and shook her head. Then she looked at Daken again. I understand you feel this way, Daken. And I respect that. I understand control o ver your life has been out of your hands for so long, and I won’t stop you, if you truly want to go.
Laura froze. Surely Jean couldn’t mean what she seemed to mean. She couldn’t let Daken die like that! She opened her mouth, but nothing came out of it. Something hard and warm pushed against her mind, begging her to wait.
Jean was a compassionate person – surely she had a plan. This was a bluff, it had to be. Laura resolved to wait it out, but readied herself to intervene if things went south.
Daken seemed as dumbstruck as she was; he’d stopped struggling, and now he peered up at Jean with what seemed like quiet curiosity. I do.
But do you, really? Jean cocked her head. I know you feel that way. But I also know that this – with a wide gesture, she encompassed the library – isn’t all of you. In order to make an informed decision, Daken, you’d need to be yourself.
I am myself.
No, you aren’t. You’re a part of yourself, trapped in your mind, focused solely on the bad things. But there are good things, too, Daken. Good memories. You must regain them, before you decide something so drastic.
I thought you wouldn’t pry. Daken’s voice dripped venom.
I don’t need to. Jean smiled gently. I saw you in your sisters’ minds, Daken. I know pain isn’t all you are. I know you’re more. And don’t you want to know that too, before you decide something you’d regret?
My sisters. Daken grabbed Laura’s arm and squeezed. He felt pensive, something reaching out of him; something warm and bright hesitatingly touched her very consciousness. She held still, fearing to somehow stop the process Jean had managed to finally get started. And my father? A flicker.
Your father loves you, Jean said clearly. And he’s ready to show you.
I hurt him too.
Yes. You did. Jean nodded. And he hurt you. And you’re not required to forgive him, Daken. Not on my watch.
He laughed. It was an abrupt sound, but that wasn’t what shocked Laura. It was different from before; a short, breathless, delighted laughter, like the ones he graced Gabby with. He felt – yes, he definitely felt lighter against her body; she shifted, searching Jean’s gaze, but the woman didn’t take her eyes off Daken, a smile on her lips.
I think – he broke off with a gasp.
Easy, Jean said. Let them come to you naturally. Don’t pull.
I – oh!
Flickers of light shone through, the bookcases crumbling to dust in a matter of seconds. Something warm and trembling got a hold of Laura and wept, but there was no pain. It touched her, just so, flitting against her, and she opened up, allowing him to feel her affection, to touch upon her memories, upon her love for him. Her forgiveness, and her gratitude, and her worry upon finding out he’d been taken. She saw herself as in a mirror, holding Gabby, the both of them looking back at her with a softness, a warm love in their eyes, and felt a surge of affection and pride and fierce protectiveness. This was how Daken saw them, his memories revealed to her like a gift; this was how her brother felt, this surge of warmth and love filling him where there had once been only despair, leaving him breathless and exhilarated, tightly holding onto her, a spark in his eyes that now peered at her from a youthful visage.
You came for me. There was still a wonder in his voice that made her guts churn, but at least the darkness had been kept at bay. He was himself again. Torn, but not down. Struggling for the light.
I couldn’t leave you here. There was a lump in her throat.
He shook his head, amusement tinged with sadness in his eyes. No, you couldn’t. He turned to face Jean, who stood a few feet away, her long hair flowing in a gust of wind – pink petals trapped amongst her locks. What now?
Jean smiled. Now you decide, Daken. Do you want to stay? Or do you want to live?
Are you really going to let me decide? He looked at her with a knitted brow. No grand speeches about the beauty of life?
I won’t force you to do anything you don’t want to do. Jean held out her hand and waited. Waited for Daken to decide his fate.
And Laura realized with a start that she was right. This one – this decision – was up to Daken alone. She’d grieve if he died, but she couldn’t force her will upon her brother. She’d struggled so much to save him, but she’d been trying to tear him away from monsters and criminals and his own mind – from traps and a negation of himself. But now he was himself, and he ought to make that step. And she ought to respect it.
Daken tilted his head, gazing into the distance. Water murmured nearby, and there was a longing in his eyes – but then he clutched at Laura’s hand. I think I’ll try that living thing for a while.
He grabbed Jean’s outstretched hand.
Lead the way, if you will, Ms Grey.
Notes:
Next: Logan waits.
.
[I just have a lot of feelings about Daken and Laura. These two break my heart ç-ç
The library appears in the Heat arc, where it was an hallucination induced by the drug. Daken was also dying at the time. It stuck with me as a representation of his psyche, and I wanted to give it my own spin.
Are you glad Daken’s finally back? Let me know what you think ^-^ ]
Chapter 15: Logan waits.
Chapter Text
15.
Waiting was the worst part.
It was difficult to sit there, and watch the motionless bodies of his son and his daughter and the telepaths, knowing he couldn’t do anything but wait and trust them to bring Daken back. It was difficult to know Daken was resisting too – that he didn’t want to come back. He was so cold, as if his heart had stopped pumping blood already, but Logan still heard his steady heartbeat. He was so cold, and he looked so lost, there on the cold floor. They hadn’t dared to move him somewhere more comfortable, fearing to disrupt the link with the telepaths, but he was covered by a thick blanket that Gabby had brought to the med bay with a resolute expression on her little face. She half-lay at Daken’s feet now, her head pressed against his legs, and she wasn’t going to leave until Daken woke up, she said.
No one had dared try to get her up; just as no one had dared make the boy, Zachary, leave, even if Kitty started towards him every now and then, a grimace on her face. He was perched atop the bed, hugging his knees and fixing a worried gaze on Logan’s son. He would occasionally mutter to himself – always some variation of “come on, you can do it, wake up, I know you can.”
Logan was reminded of Daken’s broken whisper, his apology to the boy. Whatever Zach felt – he’d looked confused enough when he’d heard it – it was clear that Daken was ashamed about kidnapping the boy. And given he’d once abducted another student without a second thought, this meant that he really was changed. Logan wanted to meet him – this son that had gained some peace of mind. That was so dearly loved by his sisters.
“Come on, son,” he whispered. Behind him, ’Ro squeezed his arm.
The room was cramped. It seemed half the school had decided to come here and wait for Daken to wake up: Jubilee leaned against a wall, Kurt sitting cross-legged beside her – he was taking turns by Logan’s side with ’Ro, so as not to overcrowd his son, who was surrounded by far too many people already. Kitty paced the room, although she’d also left once or twice. Hank had come in to check Daken’s vitals and, after prodding for a while, he’d maintained that the chemicals were out of Daken’s system and it was up to him now. Then he’d left, muttering about needing caffeine.
It was really late. Or early, depending on how one looked at such things. A few hours had passed since Laura’s dive into Daken’s mind, and still there was no change. Logan’s old counterpart broke into yawns every now and then, his old age getting the better of him; but still he stayed in support. He wasn’t that bad, maybe.
Logan shifted, his arm numb, and changed hands, wrapping his fingers around Daken’s. He supposed he was, in a way, grabbing as much as he could – not knowing if his son would let him touch him if – when – he was back. But he’d take a confrontational Daken over a dead Daken any day.
Jean had said that she’d “do her best”, implying there was a very real possibility that Daken wouldn’t return. But Logan wouldn’t – couldn’t – believe that. He had to believe his son would live.
He had to believe there was still a chance.
Zach’s breath hitched suddenly; Logan looked at his son in confusion, because he hadn’t moved, but then he realized that someone else had come to the med bay.
“Still nothing?” Bobby asked from the entrance. Kurt murmured a dissent and the man took a few steps into the room. “Well, damn. I’m sorry, Logan.”
Logan shook his head. “No sorrys. He’s gonna wake up.”
“Of course,” Bobby said softly. “He’s a strong one, your kid.”
Zach spluttered in what seemed like outrage, “Yeah, you would know,” but Logan turned his head, looking up at the man.
“You think?”
“Well, yes.” Bobby rubbed at the back of his neck. “I mean, when my Death Seed took over,” he winced, “I almost took over the world. Daken’s – huh – stunt was pretty tame, if you think about it.”
Kitty coughed.
“Well, it’s true.” Bobby shushed her. Then he smiled faintly at Logan. “So I’m sure he’s going to wake up. If that thing didn’t control him, he sure as hell won’t let this end him either.”
Logan started. “Thanks, Bobby.” He ruminated over his next words as Bobby nodded and made to leave the room. “I understand I have to thank you for ridding him of the Death Seed as well.”
Bobby ducked his head. “It was nothing.”
“It wasn’t nothin’. You helped my boy.”
“Yes, well -” Why did he smell ashamed?
“Yep, so fucking heroic,” Zach piped up. There was a chorus of “Language!” but Bobby didn’t join in, wincing instead. “Teach here is such a paragon of virtue,” Zach added pleasantly, laying it on pretty thick.
“Zach –” Kitty began, a clear warning in her voice, but Bobby just shook his head in her direction and she trailed off.
Logan looked from Bobby, who seemed mortified, to Kitty, who pursed her lips, and then to the boy, who was visibly seething. “Care to fill me in?”
Zach beamed. “Yeah, teach. Tell dad here how did you try to rescue me the first time! I’m sure he’ll love it.”
There was a story there, and while Logan wasn’t quite sure he wanted to hear it, Zach’s animosity didn’t leave much to the imagination. Logan could guess it just fine: in an attempt to free the boy, Bobby must have hurt Daken; and Zach, being so attached to his son, saw that as a slight. Bobby’s reaction was more interesting: he smelt really contrite. But he must have done what he thought was best to protect a student, and Logan couldn’t fault him for that, nor take the moral high ground. Not when he’d held down the struggling body of his son until all the air left his lungs.
Still, Bobby seemed about to spill the beans, his mouth contorted in a grimace – but he was interrupted by a sharp cry coming from Rachel.
The room’s attention turned towards her as she came to with a gasp, eyes wide and unseeing. Betsy was next, blinking to awareness and moving to catch her as she fell backwards, grasping wildly.
“Ray!” Kitty was beside them in an instant, panic tinging her voice. She fell to her knees and grasped Rachel’s hands. “Ray, what’s wrong?”
“Help me move her,” Betsy panted as she went to her feet, grabbing Rachel by her armpits. Zach jumped out of the way, allowing them to place her on the bed. She was whimpering and flailing, but seemed to marginally relax as Kitty sat on the bed to wrap her arms around her. Betsy stood by, her eyes fixed on her fellow telepath, likely calming her down.
They waited in silence, not knowing what had happened. Logan, a twinge of dread running down his spine, looked down at his son, but nothing had changed; and both Jean and Laura were still out.
He gazed around again. Kurt had stood up, and now lingered by the bed as well, staring down at their friend. The others hovered where they’d been standing, craning their necks to see. “Mein Gott. What happened?” Kurt asked quietly.
That was what Logan wanted to know as well. But Betsy still paid them no heed, fiercely focused on Rachel, her mauve aura blazing around her.
Eventually Rachel quietened, at least enough to regain some sense of where she was. She grasped at Kitty’s arm as she took long deep breaths, her fingers digging in seemingly painfully, but Kitty didn’t react to that; she merely held her tighter and shushed her softly, her lips brushing against Rachel’s forehead.
Logan had a feeling that he’d missed a hell of a lot more than what he’d been told about the school’s ongoings. But none of it mattered now; he caught Betsy’s gaze and motioned to his son with his free hand. “What -?”
Rachel sat up abruptly. “We need to help him!” she gasped, trying to haul herself off the bed, but Kitty wouldn’t have it. “Kitty, let me go! I need to –”
“What you need to do,” Betsy said firmly, “is to stay well out of his mind. You shouldn’t have been there in the first place.” She grimaced. “We should have known.”
“But he needs help!” Rachel shouted, wide-eyed. Logan felt his chest ache at such a display of worry towards his son. “No one should call themselves -”
“They’ve got it, Rachel,” Betsy cut her off, her eyes flickering towards Logan for a moment, and Rachel fell silent. A warning, perhaps, so that Rachel wouldn’t betray whatever they’d seen? But Logan was Daken’s father. Didn’t he deserve to know?
Betsy sure looked like she was holding something back, a faint grimace curving her lips. What had they seen? What was happening inside his son’s mind? Logan looked down at his pale face, squeezed Daken’s unresponsive hand. Shouldn’t he know? If this was the last thing he knew of his son, shouldn’t they tell him?
And yet, Betsy had said that they’d got it. Logan almost feared the rush of adrenaline and hope that those words instilled in him.
“All right, but some extra help can’t hurt,” Rachel was saying. “Get in there, I’ll be fine.”
Betsy cocked her head. “I don’t think that will be necessary.”
Logan’s heart skipped a beat. Did she mean -?
“Oh!” Rachel gasped. “Oh, you’re right!”
“Fuck, stop being so mysterious!” Zach exploded, perfectly representing Logan’s own frustration. “What’s going on? Is he okay?” He was wringing his hands, so upset he even let Jubilee touch his arm with a comforting gesture.
Both telepaths turned towards the boy. Rachel regarded him with compassion, and even Betsy’s features softened into something resembling sympathy. “It’s up to him,” Betsy said.
“What does that even mean?” Again, the boy expressed Logan’s own feelings. He couldn’t speak; there was a lump in his throat, a sort of panicked frenzy he couldn’t dispel. He was hoping, God, he was hoping so hard, but at the same time he was considering the alternative Betsy implied, and fuck, it hurt so much. He felt ungrateful, but not even ’Ro’s presence at his back was of any comfort to him; and all the people gathered around the room were, suddenly, too much, too much to witness this. If he had to grieve, he wanted to do it in peace. If he had to say goodbye to his son, he wanted to be alone –
Daken’s fingers were moving against Logan’s palm.
Logan’s breath caught in his throat. And he stared, and stared, a bubble of exhilaration pushing against his lips, as Daken’s eyelids fluttered, as color rose to his cheeks; his fingers moved some more, and then his legs, oh – Gabby stirred and pushed herself up, holding her breath as well, and Daken’s fingers jumped, warm and alive in Logan’s hand, and Jean and Laura were waking up, and the room was overcome by a deafening silence, all its occupants sensing the monumentality of what was happening, and Logan stared, and stared, his heart bursting, marginally feeling ’Ro squeezing his arm, and –
Daken opened his eyes. He blinked several times, as if with confusion, but his eyes were alert and his nostrils were flaring – likely taking note of how many people he was surrounded by. His fingers jumped, again, slightly moving back in an attempt to free himself from Logan’s grip, and Logan let go of him with a surge of regret. He didn’t want to impose – God knew he had no idea of how Daken would react to his presence, so close to him, after everything that had happened between them.
Judging from the shapes under the blanket, Laura was still holding Daken’s hand. She was gazing down at him – well. Logan’s heart almost gave way at seeing the affection with which his children regarded each other.
He wet his lips. “Son -?”
No answer but a blink. Resting on his elbow, Daken half-sat up, swaying as he did so. Jean, already at his side, placed a steadying hand against his shoulder, and Daken let her. He turned his head slightly, looking away from Laura and in front of him – and he smiled the softest smile Logan had ever seen, something he’d never dared to hope to witness on his son’s face… certainly not while he was present. “Hey, Honey Badger.”
“Daken!” With a shriek, Gabby flung herself at him. Daken ooofed quietly, Laura fretting by his side and admonishing the child to let him breathe, but Daken murmured to let her be and, with some help from both Jean and Laura, sat up fully, wrapping his now free arm around Gabby’s shoulders. The kid bawled and hid her face against his chest, her little fists tight around the blanket.
Daken fluffed her hair. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. Did I scare you?”
Gabby nodded, sniffling loudly. Daken kissed the top of her head. If Logan had died in that moment, he’d have died happy. To see Daken act so affectionately was a balm for his old soul. He gazed upon the pair with longing; Gabby was inconsolable, though with happiness, and Daken patted her hair with familiarity. At some point Logan thought he saw a flicker of alarm in Daken’s eyes, but the next moment his son was cooing the kid.
“Let me see your nose?” he asked her.
Gabby sniffed loudly and shook her head. “It’s – hauhhh – nothing -”
“Let me be the judge of that.” Letting go of Laura, Daken put his hand under Gabby’s chin and gently tilted her head up. Her nose was fine, of course, perfectly healed. Logan had been told what had happened – an accident, and Gabby apparently didn’t even feel pain, but judging from his son’s grimace, he didn’t agree with that estimate.
“See? It’s fine.” Gabby glared at him with tear-filled eyes, daring him to contradict her. Daken shut his eyes briefly, a shadow passing over his face – but then he opened his eyes and smiled and drew her back into his arms.
“Yes, I see that,” he murmured. Gabby hugged him back fiercely, and Daken’s wince didn’t escape Logan’s notice. Perhaps it was time to clear the room and give his son some space to rest.
“You’re really fine?” Zach’s small voice came from far closer than he’d been earlier. Logan had almost forgotten the boy was in the room. He was crouching in front of Daken – he looked like he’d hastily wiped away his tears with a sleeve – and Logan turned towards Kitty just in time to see her move to intervene. He shook his head at her; luckily, she seemed to accept his judgment for the moment, and she sat back on the bed by Rachel’s side.
Daken looked at the boy with regret. It was impossible to miss it, and Kitty must see it too. There was this almost feverish light in his eyes, that resembled the way he’d stared at Zach while still under the effect of the chemicals. “It seems so,” he said quietly.
“You scared me, man.” Zach’s voice was roughened by his crying. Daken clenched his jaw.
“I’m sorry,” he said, a bit evenly, “about everything, Zach. More than I can possibly say.”
“No, man, it’s cool.” The boy sniffled. “It’s all right. You didn’t do anything, it’s all I’ve been telling these suckers –”
“No, Zach,” Daken stated clearly. “What I did to you was wrong.” The boy started.
“What? No! What are you talking about?” he said hotly, shaking his head. “They got to you? That’s nonsense, okay -”
“Zach,” Daken grimaced. “Listen to –”
“No! You’re being stupid!” the boy’s voice took on a shrill quality. Daken made to speak, but then Jean squeezed his shoulder. He broke off, his head slightly angled towards her.
“Perhaps we can postpone this conversation to when you’ll both be able to sustain it?” she suggested lightly. The implication was that he would be allowed to speak to Zach again – no doubt he’d sprung into this apology now, despite the audience, because he had no idea of what would happen to him. He might sense Kitty’s hostility, that was coming off in waves, despite the fact she was clearly controlling herself. He might even have focused on reassuring Gabby for the same reason; and given he clearly remembered hurting her on accident, he must remember Kitty had threatened to lock him up.
He nodded – and the fact that he was listening to Jean and allowing her to touch him spoke volumes to Logan – and turned to the boy. “Go back to sleep, Zach. It looks like you need it.”
The boy made a face. “But -” His eyes flickered towards Kitty and he even made an aborted motion with his head – as if desperately trying to impart to Daken that she was an enemy.
Daken, however, stayed focused on him. “Sleep’s important, Zach. And I’m safe, see?” He cocked his head towards Laura, who sat beside him. No fool would take her silence and composure to mean she’d acquiesce if something were to happen to him.
He was utterly ignoring Logan, who sat just as close and as protectively. It shouldn’t hurt – he should have known it would happen – but it did.
“Oh, all right.” Sporting an impressive pout, the boy got to his feet. Kitty didn’t seem too pleased to see Zach effectively obeying Daken when it was clear the teachers were struggling to keep a hold on the boy – but Daken’s own grimace as he watched the child go implied she wasn’t alone in finding the whole situation despicable.
Bobby muttered he’d make sure the boy got to his room and made a hasty retreat. Daken crunched his nose in what looked like distaste, but didn’t comment.
When Zach wasn’t in earshot anymore, Daken turned towards Kitty. “Thank you for your assistance,” he said stiffly.
Kitty jumped minutely on the bed – she mustn’t have expected him to be so polite – but then she nodded. “It was our duty.”
Daken hummed. “And what exactly is my status now, Ms Pryde? Am I a prisoner?” Gabby gasped a heated protestation but he shushed her softly, his hands running gently over her back – his eyes never leaving Kitty’s. So he didn’t notice Rachel squeezing her hand, but he surely registered the pause before Kitty answered.
“You aren’t a prisoner,” she said crisply. “Hank recommended rest, and he wants to talk you through what he found in your body. We might have questions, too, regarding the men who had you.” Daken’s eyes turned into slits at the reminder, but then he nodded. “You won’t be confined to this room, you have freedom to come and go, but know you will be monitored.” Daken cocked his head, as if to say ‘obviously’. “You’re welcome to stay until you feel better. After that, we’ll see.”
“Meaning you’ll hand me over to S.H.I.E.L.D. the minute I can stand on my feet?”
“They can try,” Gabby’s muffled cry caused a few nervous chuckles around the room. The tension was palpable – and yet, Logan didn’t dare to intervene.
Kitty shook her head. “No, we won’t be doing that. You have my word.” She clenched her jaw. “Unless you give us cause for it.”
“That’s reasonable.” Daken drummed his fingers against Gabby’s shoulder as he mulled that over. He exchanged a glance with Laura, who nodded at him, and, perhaps not so surprisingly, with Jean, who smiled encouragingly. Logan fiercely reined in the pang of grief and jealousy. Daken was alive. That was all that mattered. “Then I’ll accept your kind offer of sanctuary, Ms Pryde,” Daken said, returning his gaze to Kitty.
“Good.” She went to her feet. “We’ll get out of your way now. I suppose you want to reconnect.” Her gaze landed on Daken’s left, straight on Logan, but not even then did Daken acknowledge his presence.
“Quite,” he said instead. “And when might I expect Dr McCoy?”
“When his schedule allows it, I’m sure.” Kitty walked past him, followed closely by Rachel and Betsy. The former lingered just enough to smile at him in unmistakable support, but Betsy stared at him pointedly, and then at Logan, her lips thin. She definitely wanted to say something, but Jean spoke cheerfully.
“Let’s go, Betsy. Give them some room.” She squeezed Daken’s shoulder and then she was up, linking her arm with the telepath and effectively dragging her away.
As the room slowly emptied, it was becoming more and more difficult to ignore Logan, but his son was stubborn: he let got of Gabby, and turned to Laura. “Help me up?” he whispered.
He leaned too heavily against her – and against Gabby, who hastened to support him too – for Logan’s taste, but Logan knew what would happen if he touched Daken when his son had his back on him, even if it was to help: it would be seen as an aggression. Logan tried to see the upside, though – if his son wasn’t warily keeping an eye on him, it meant he trusted him a little bit.
Jubilee was the next to go, chatting away that she was glad he was okay and she couldn’t wait to meet him properly when he felt up to it – to which he hummed noncommittally. Then Logan’s counterpart approached and Logan tensed, fearing the worst.
“Glad you’re okay, kid,” the man grumbled, and walked away without waiting for an answer.
“Thank you,” Daken called out. And that was it. The old bastard had gotten more acknowledgment than Logan!
Logan inhaled to speak. ’Ro was gently shaking his arm, and Kurt was in his line of sight and was shaking his head, but Logan couldn’t let it slide. Damn, he’d thought it was enough to see Daken alive and well, he’d even resolved to leave him alone if Daken so decided – but the wound, he found, was still fresh, and he ached for recognition, a gesture, even a single word. He ached to see his son’s eyes, make sure he was fine –
“Get out, please,” Daken said.
He wasn’t talking to Laura or Gabby. He wasn’t even talking to Kurt and ’Ro, the only strangers still in the room. Logan didn’t need to see Laura’s sad gaze or her trying to meet Daken’s eyes to know that Daken was asking him, specifically, to leave – in no uncertain terms.
And yet – he hadn’t shouted. He didn’t even sound angry. He was just asking him, politely, to leave.
Shame took over. He’d resolved to do his best, this time. And he’d do it. He’d leave, because his son was asking him to. And who knew, perhaps Daken would give him a chance, one day.
“Of course, son,” he said quietly. He got up as both his partners congratulated Daken on his well-being, and then moved towards the door. He wouldn’t cry. He wouldn’t turn back and he wouldn’t cry. Daken was alive: that was all that mattered. Everything else was secondary –
“Logan.” Daken’s voice reached him when he was almost past the door. Logan stilled, didn’t dare to turn around. Perhaps it was easier for them to speak like this. Perhaps he needed the distance too.
“Yes, son?” Would he be able to withstand it, if Daken hurled abuse at him? If he declared he didn’t want to ever see Logan’s face again?
He would have to. He focused on Kurt’s and ’Ro’s warm presence at his side, and waited for the truth.
Daken sighed. “It’s just too much right now. But I’m… glad you’re alive, Logan.”
That wasn’t – it wasn’t a dismissal. It wasn’t hate. It was even more than what Logan had expected to get. His heart burst with happiness. “Me too, son,” he pushed past the lump in his throat. “Happy you’re alive, I mean.”
There was no answer, but there was no need. The seed was planted.
Logan let Kurt lead him out of the room, and allowed himself to hope.
Notes:
Next: Daken faces a loss. He doesn’t let that stop him.
.
[There was a lot happening here! It was a big cast ^^” There are a few things in the background, but I won’t focus too much on them during the story, I don’t think. We’re strictly snikt-family oriented ^-^
Daken’s officially back! God, when I started this I didn’t think it would take this much ^^” What did you think? Are you disappointed there wasn’t a conversation with Logan yet? Let me know! Your comments are the reason why I keep writing ^-^]
Chapter 16: Daken faces a loss.
Notes:
Additional warnings: mentioned matricide, vomiting, dissociation, slightly ableist language, verbal abuse, belittled outing, mentioned child physical abuse.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
16.
“So, Daken,” McCoy said, perched atop a stool. “How do you feel?”
How did he feel? Like he missed a limb. Like he’d been under the control of others for days, no way of freeing himself, and the gods hadn’t even been merciful enough to let him sit it out, giving him dreadful flashes of awareness. Like seeing his dead father in the flesh and not knowing what to feel, facing the onslaught of memories and sensations he always brought forth in Daken’s mind, especially after being trapped in it, forced to dwell on things he much preferred to leave buried. Like he was marinating in unease.
His sisters had distracted him, for a while. But Gabby was sleeping on her feet and even Laura looked worse for wear, and eventually he’d had to send them to bed. They’d stayed awake for hours, and if he knew Laura, she surely hadn’t rested until she found him. She’d protested, of course.
“Well, let me be a big brother on this one,” he’d told her. “I think you did enough worrying for a decade.”
Smiling, she’d conceded and dragged Gabby with her, the child wanting to sleep in Daken’s large bed. “He needs to rest,” she’d shushed the little one, and Gabby had got quiet.
Not that he’d rested after they were gone. Sleep eluded him, and frankly, he’d rested even too much while he was under. When McCoy finally deigned himself to show up, a little past ten in the morning, he found Daken slowly pacing the room by using every possible surface as support.
“I do need to impress upon you that you’ll regain your strength much faster if you stay on that bed,” had been his way of greeting Daken. With a huff, Daken had complied, and now he sat in a pair of subpar boxers after having suffered McCoy’s checkup, only one question in his mind and no patience for the man’s tricks.
“Daken?” McCoy said softly. “How do you feel?” he repeated.
“You tell me, doctor.” Daken crossed his arms. “You prodded me quite a lot.”
“Ah, yes.” McCoy nodded. “From where I’m standing, you do look fine. You’ll probably experience fatigue for a while yet. You understand, I’ve only had one other patient with your... ailment,” he said delicately.
“Go on,” Daken waved a hand.
“Which is why it’s important you tell me how you feel. A cooperative, lucid patient does wonders, you see.”
Of course. “… I feel worn out,” he admitted. “Is it a side effect of this chemical? Did,” he hesitated, “Did Logan experience the same?”
McCoy sighed. “Unfortunately, we can’t be sure. We found him when it had already worn out of his system. A few days, from my estimate.” His grimace piqued Daken’s curiosity, and despite himself, he found himself asking.
“And where did you find him?”
“A bunker. He was left there. He regained his mind slowly and painfully.”
Unlike me. Well, just another thing to add to the list of what the bastards would pay for.
Had he just implicitly counted Logan amongst his family?
Daken cleared his throat. “This chemical. Pryde said you’d tell me what it was about.”
“Of course.” McCoy produced a tablet. “It went after your brain cells. Very aggressive – it had to counter your healing factor, you see, and even then, it wasn’t strong enough: you had to be dosed regularly.” Daken pursed his lips. He didn’t remember that; but he supposed he couldn’t, given it was the moment when it was stronger. “I’m told you had... things in place, in your mind, that countered its effect to a degree,” the mad added, scientific curiosity clear in his voice.
Obviously. It wouldn’t do to have a puppet who’d be susceptible to the control of others, and Romulus had taken care of that. Daken couldn’t repress a shudder, and McCoy smelt guilty for even bringing it up.
“Well,” he said, as if he hadn’t asked anything, “At any rate, you’re clean now. Your memories of that time will remain partly hidden, but the effect, the compulsion – that is gone. I still want to monitor you, to make sure; I regularly check Logan too, and so far there haven’t been complications, but you never know.”
“You never know,” Daken repeated dubiously. “This chemical seems precisely calibrated to work on us. How did they achieve that? I know you have one of those bastards around.” In fact, if the man who’d dared to make Daken call him master wasn’t cooperative, Daken would be glad to help.
McCoy must have seen the dangerous glint in his eyes. “Ah, he wasn’t – he was painfully ignorant on that subject. We had him vetted by two telepaths, so he’s not hiding anything.”
“Pity.” Daken would have to pay him a visit anyway. Just to say hello. “You must have a theory.”
“Well,” the man adjusted his glasses on his nose. “My working theory is that they experimented it on Logan until it achieved the desired effect. It’s not like they didn’t have time to spare.”
There was a time when such a thing would have filled Daken with victorious glee, but now he only felt empty and vaguely nauseous.
And he had a niggling doubt – driving him mad – that Logan hadn’t been the guinea pig. But that wasn’t the only thing on his mind.
Having established that McCoy wasn’t nervous around him, and so mustn’t be the one responsible for Daken’s neutering, Daken decided to bring his concerns to him.
“Is there some chance,” he asked slowly, “that this chemical is still affecting my biology? My powers, for instance.”
McCoy sat up straighter, looking alarmed. “It shouldn’t, no.” He leaned closer, as if peering at Daken’s eyes could give him an answer. “Why? What are you experiencing? Your hypersenses -?”
“Still working.” Daken grimaced. “Not, it’s my pheromone manipulation. It’s like it’s gone.” It was like losing a sense. He’d known as soon as he woke up that something was wrong – but it had taken his trying to subtly calm down Gabby to realize. He’d tried some more after that – mainly with Gabby, and then attempting to send Logan away – but to no avail.
McCoy stood up and bent to search for something in his bag. “You aren’t simply failing in its use? You don’t – ah – feel it anymore?”
He’d mastered this power with blood and pain. He was finely attuned to the subtle strings to be pushed and pulled at his will, and he couldn’t sense anything now. He was handicapped. “Yes.”
McCoy nodded, his expression grave. “I’ll take some blood samples and get back to you.” He produced a needle and a few phials. “Do you mind if I ask you a few questions?”
Daken shook his head and offered his arm. “Go ahead.”
“Thank you.” McCoy bent on him to work. “Is this your secondary mutation?”
That should have been a straightforward answer, but Daken found he wasn’t really sure. He furrowed his brow. Had it appeared before or after hypersenses and healing factor? It had happened so long ago, his time in Sendai willfully clouded. When had he begun hearing and smelling things too impossibly far, healing from cuts and bruises without scarring? Hadn’t it been the night his claws had manifested? No, that wasn’t possible – but how could he remember?
“I don’t know.”
McCoy paused. “Well, what appeared first?”
“I don’t know. It’s been too long.” It was frustrating to admit it. And alarming.
“Sixty-odd years, I gather?” McCoy said sympathetically, changing phials.
“More or less.” Daken stared at the blood leaving his body. “I don’t think I’ll be able to answer your questions.”
“Well, let’s see.” McCoy hummed. “Do you recall an age where you know for certain you had these powers? You don’t have to be precise. Children of mutants normally manifest a little earlier –” he suggested gently.
“Yeah.” His voice came out rougher than intended. How could he forget unwittingly driving the bitch Natsumi mad – effectively bringing her hate and fear upon himself? He only had to recall when she’d started avoiding him, even when he longed for her affection. “Six or seven, I think. The pheromones. But the hypersenses, I really can’t recall. The first instance that comes to mind, the first time I noticed maybe, I was ten.” The rumbling of the leaves as he stared at the lifeless bodies of his adoptive parents, the deafening roar of the rain, the certainty someone was hiding among the trees, watching -
“Easy.”
Daken blinked, feeling warm fur against his back – an arm holding him. He was half-reclined on the bed. “What -?”
“You were passing out.” Swiftly, McCoy freed him from the needle. “A combination of blood loss and plain fatigue,” he said, “not to mention I might, ah, have stirred something unpleasant?” He rummaged in his bag some more, averting his eyes to allow Daken to plead ignorance. Daken clenched his jaw. He did feel faint, and the notion that simply thinking of Romulus affected him so, made him seethe. McCoy turned to look at him, a pill in hand. “Here, an antiemetic.” Daken must look positively green, for the man to offer it.
Daken popped the pill into his mouth without a word. McCoy’s gaze was deeply unsettling; he was being studied, and he didn’t like that. He wondered what did Logan think he knew, to run his mouth so; or perhaps the telepaths had decided to recount what they’d seen? Grey Jr and Sr didn’t seem the type, but perhaps Braddock – if the Caucasian woman he’d seen really was her, as Grey’s use of the name Betsy seemed to imply – didn’t have anything better to do with her free time.
His mood soured, Daken didn’t want to entertain the man anymore. Had he been still intact, he’d have pushed a cocktail of pheromones at him, but now he had to resort to words. “Was that all?”
“Yes, yes.” McCoy secured the phials in a small rack. “You can get dressed. I advise rest, for today at least. Please heed me.” He cocked his head. “And I’ll update the kitchens on your need for iron. Would you be amenable to take your meals here, for now?”
Daken gritted his teeth. “Do I have a choice?”
“Of course. I think Kitty told you so.” McCoy clicked his bag shut. “But really, I can’t stress this enough: you need to stay in bed. And avoid stress.”
Oh, so now he was mental. His irritation must show on his face, because McCoy sighed. “You’ve been through an ordeal. Your mind was violated. I know everyone in your family thinks you’re all above such things, but you’re humans, Daken. Please think on it.” And with a pleased nod, he took his leave.
Sanctimonious prick. Daken allowed himself to fume for a full minute, then pulled close the abominable hospital clothes and put them on with a few, angry jerks that left him breathless. The asshole was right. Daken had to regain his strength.
The asshole was also going to work on getting Daken’s powers back, so getting on his bad side wasn’t a viable option. Daken sighed, lay down, and yanked the covers over himself. Bed it is.
He didn’t look forward to the solitude. Laura and Gabby must still be asleep and Logan wouldn’t dare to get close, not so soon.
He’d be left alone with his thoughts. Again. His skin still crawled from that few-seconds-long trip down memory lane. The beginning of the end. How must Romulus have rejoiced as he spied on him from the darkness, delightedly watching him murder Natsumi and break down over Akihira’s suicide! His little weapon, his boy, ripe for the taking – ready to trust the first person who came out of the shadows to make him feel important and wanted, ready to see that trust taken and bent and twisted –
Much like Daken had done. To poor Zach.
He rolled to the side and dry-heaved, evidently the antiemetic not being that strong, but at least he was on an empty stomach and nothing came out, leaving him nauseous and miserable and oh, God, when was the retching going to stop?
“Whoa! Are you all right?” A cool, comforting hand was at his side, holding him steady, and it could even have been Logan’s, for all he cared.
But it wasn’t. As the cramps finally subsided and he could focus, he smelt snow and cheap cologne. “I’m fine.” He jerked away from Drake’s touch and dragged himself to a sitting position.
Drake hovered by, reeking of concern. “Do you want me to call someone?”
Laura was off-limits and in this exact moment seeing Logan would only set Daken off. Same for Old Logan. “No.”
“Okay.” Drake nodded. “You need anything? Water?”
… water would be nice, despite who was procuring it. “Yes.”
“Back in a mo.” Drake disappeared into the non-quarantined area of the med bay and came back with a plastic cup. “Here.”
Daken took it without comment and sipped at it slowly, lest his stomach felt dared to a rematch.
“… Is this a bad moment?” Drake asked when the cup was empty. Daken stared up at him in disbelief, desperately willing a mocking expression to form on his face.
“What clued you in? The threat of vomit on the immaculate floor?” Well, at least there was the right tinge of sarcasm in his voice.
Drake winced. “I’ll take that as a yes. I’ll leave, then.” He moved to go – but the bastard’s presence, even if unpleasant, could prove to be a distraction from Daken’s thoughts.
“Stay, Drake. Tell me why you felt the need to molest the sick.”
There was palpable relief in the way Drake’s shoulders went up, as if he was bracing himself. He was taking the verbal abuse like a pro; not to mention the blend of guilt and resolution in his scent.
He’d make for a good punching ball. It wasn’t as if he didn’t deserve it.
“So, huh, I’ve been thinking -”
“A novelty, I’m sure,” Daken said politely. Drake grimaced, but stood his ground. Tepid fool.
“Yeah, I kind of walked right into that one. Look, I -” He shook his head, as if to clear his thoughts. “I just wanted to tell you… that I’m sorry.”
Sorry? He was sorry? Oh, this was rich. “You’re apologizing to me.” He didn’t quite know what to emphasize, so he ended up delivering the line a bit flatly. Drake took it as encouragement and Daken was too outraged to stop him from blabbering.
“Yeah. I mean, ever since I came out – ugh, it was more like I was outed – I’ve been battling with this rage, you know? I’m, huh, seeing a therapist now. Getting better. And it got me thinking, you know, about, about our tiff at that gala -” He winced. “Eh, not a tiff. More like – I handled it badly. I had you incapacitated but I was angry and you were – ugh -” He made some ridiculous motion with his hands.
“Frustrating you with my pheromones?” Daken cocked an eyebrow. He simply must see where this was going, but he was seething at the nerve of the man and the absolute cluelessness.
Drake made a noise. “Huh, yeah. And so I was – I basically cut you in half. And that must have hurt like hell. I shrugged it off, because, you know, healing factor, but – Logan and Laura act like they don’t ever feel pain but that’s not your superpower, despite how you all act about it, so, huh – sorry for ice-stabbing you?” He winced. He had to work on his apologies. He was also an idiot.
Daken blinked. “I’m sorry,” he said, “Are we blaming your Freudian slip on your internalized homophobia?”
“Freudian -?”
“You did penetrate me with an emanation of your body.” Daken was delighted to see Drake squirm – but this was ridiculous, and not what the fool should apologize for. “Drake, you were fighting a supervillain who’d kidnapped your student for possibly nefarious purposes.” He felt ill again, but reined it in with some effort. “I think I can give you a pass for ‘ice-stabbing’ me, especially considering you rid me of the Death Seed.” And that was the closest he’d ever get to thank the bastard for it. “Don’t get me wrong, it did hurt like hell,” he dug the knife in a bit, “but I had greater concerns at the time.”
“… Right.” Drake was pale. “But I -”
“You liked it?” Daken guessed. That special mixture of shame and guilt didn’t have many other meanings. “I find it insulting that you’re turning your apology into a therapy session. I don’t have to hold your hand here, Drake.” So the bastard had anger management problems. It fitted right into the picture Daken had of him.
Drake winced again. “Yeah, you’re right. Sorry. I mean, sorry for hurting you like that. It shouldn’t have happened.” Narcissistic moron. It vexed Daken to recall that he had flirted with him at that gala; he used to have standards –
That train of thought would lead only to regret, and he couldn’t face it now. He was struggling enough without having to mope about his own idiocy from years past, without grieving for what he’d lost.
He had to stay on track; for his sanity, at least.
The fact that Drake lost time and thoughts over the wrong slight was really irritating. But at least Daken could use it to gain something. “I told you it’s all right. But if you want to even the score -” Drake nodded like an eager puppy. Daken rolled his eyes. “I need a phone. I’d ask Laura, but she’s resting and I don’t want to impose. And it can’t wait.”
“Huh, sure.” Drake fished in his pockets. “Here.”
Daken blinked at the proffered item. “A permanent phone. For me. I seem to have displaced mine.” Hopefully his tone conveyed the unspoken question: ‘Are you daft?’
“Oh, um,” Drake winced. “Look, you absolutely aren’t a prisoner -”
Oh, I see. “But Pryde feels the need to monitor who I talk with?” He couldn’t say he was surprised. It wasn’t even that unreasonable.
“Yeah. Sorry.” Drake sounded miserable. The poor boy, thinking he could get off the hook that easily.
“Well, fine then.” Daken took the phone from his hands and proceeded to browse his contacts.
“What are you -”
“Texting your ex.” Daken tapped quickly. Drake inhaled sharply, likely thinking of his civilian whom Daken had almost killed – another reason why apologizing to Daken was ridiculous, in his opinion. “To tell her the moment she got rid of you was most certainly the best of her life.”
“Her -?” Drake sounded confused. Daken hit send and looked up.
“Dane. Isn’t she an ex of yours? A victim of poor, closeted you?”
Drake gritted his teeth, but still took it. “You know Lorna -? Oh, right.” He scratched his cheek.
“Yes, I’ve had my heroic moments.” Daken handed him back the phone. “Notify me when she answers.”
“Oh-kay,” Drake said slowly, picking up the phone as if it was radioactive. “How did you know she’s my ex?”
“Oh, after we took Mothervine down we stayed up all night braiding each other’s hair and talking about cute boys we kissed,” Daken deadpanned and Drake went red in the face. Ridiculous. “I was a criminal, Drake. And you were working with my father. I studied all of your little X-profiles. And let me tell you, you were the only one caught by surprise when they outed you. Were you always this clueless?”
“… Right.” Drake clenched his jaw, finally showing some spine. “And what do you want from her?” Without waiting for an answer, he very rudely went to read the message. His eyes widened slightly and he lowered the phone, averting his gaze in shame. “You think Jimmy’s in trouble,” he said quietly.
“He’s M.I.A. and there’s a chemical specifically designed to work on us? Yes, Drake, I don’t like those odds.” Lorna should have at least an inkling of where to start looking. Magneto had known where to send Daken to take care of the alien, after all. “Your genius astounds me.”
Drake grimaced. Yet again. It was becoming a common feature. “I’ll tell you as soon as she answers.”
“Good.” Daken primly plumped up his pillow. “You can go now.” Before he gave in to the instinct to tear the bastard to ribbons.
“Yeah.” Drake started, then stilled. “Can I ask you something?”
Daken prayed for patience. “I do need to rest, you know. Doctor’s orders.”
“Yes, but – you say you forgive me, but you’re treating me like shit. Why’s that? It’s all right if you’re angry with me, I can take it, really, and – and I heard you, you said you hate cold, and I guess that’s my fault too, and I’m really, really sorry -” Drake blurted out, all in one breath – quite a feat, to be honest.
And since he seemed so willing to get crucified and yet so disturbingly convinced that just because he’d apologized he was ought basic decency, Daken lost it.
“Get over yourself,” he snapped. “My aversion to the cold has nothing to do with you.”
“But I -”
“I’m treating you like shit because you are,” he snarled. Drake gulped. “You’re an abusive piece of shit. You’re so caught up in your own narrative that you don’t even realize you’re apologizing to the wrong person.”
“Wait, what -” Drake took a step back.
“You,” Daken sat up straighter, battling the lightheadedness because apparently McCoy was right and he did need rest, but this was more important, “punched a child in your care hard enough that he lost consciousness, and you were smiling,” he spat. “Liked that too, didn’t you? Turned you on?”
“Wait a second -” Drake was pale. And wide-eyed. Good.
“I was possessed by a Death Seed and I still didn’t lay a finger on that boy’s head.” He’d done much worse, in his opinion. He’d rid Zach of his innocence. Nothing he ever did – no amount of apologies – would make it okay, and the fact that Drake had the chance to heal some of Zach’s wounds and was too blind and stupid to see it drove Daken mad. “And your excuse is coming out jitters?”
Drake paled some more. He stank of self-pity and alarm and terror, but evidently he still thought he could act heroically, and he held up his hands in a pacifying gesture. “Hey, calm down, you’re working yourself into a state -”
“Get out of my room!” Daken shrieked. He wished desperately for his pheromones, to knock the bastard out cold. He didn’t have the strength to jump out of the bed and stab him, but by God, if Drake came any closer he’d do it. And pocket his damn phone. “Get out, get out, get out -”
Drake turned on his heels and fled. Daken fell back onto the bed gasping, as breathless as if he’d just endured one of Romulus’ most straining lessons.
The cold. That bastard had thought Daken feared the cold because of him. Ah! As if. The cold reminded Daken of something far worse than an idiot snapping him in half; it reminded him of lessons he’d endured when he was far younger that poor Zach. The fact he’d never done anything like that to the boy relieved him, but it should have never happened in the first place. He’d been sloppy, to let the Death Seed take over like that. To almost turn him into the monster who’d taken him apart.
He knew that Laura was right: nothing had happened. Zach was safe. But he couldn’t simply forget what had molded him either, what was in him – his thoughts always turning back to that nightmare. It was a gaping wound that he was trying to close ever since Logan had rid the world of Romulus, taking the monster straight from Daken’s hands to deliver the killing blow somewhere else. Some of the old fury resurfaced: Logan had taken his vengeance from him. He had no idea of the tribulations Daken had gone through to simply summon the will to rebel against his master –
No. Not his master. No more. Death, at least, had rid Daken of that burden, even though he should have killed Romulus himself. But Logan had decided to take it upon himself, and it would have to do. There was no use thinking about it now; it had happened so long ago. So many things had happened in-between, and he’d made peace with Logan’s ill-advised decision while the man was dead.
The fact that he was alive now couldn’t bring Daken back to that old resentment. He’d give his father a chance.
Who knew? Perhaps something good would come of it.
Notes:
Next: Laura comes to a realization.
.
[Er – apologies to anyone who thought Bobby was going to be a love interest ^^” I was re-reading earlier chapters and a few scenes could be read that way, maybe, if one’s a shipper. But that’s not going to happen (but I guess that was clear here). There are other things in store, though ^^
Speaking of the aversion to the cold, it’s mostly a callback to a panel we see in the Siege storyline – it shows little Daken alone and naked in a blizzard, likely to test his resistance. I headcanon that he hates the cold, the snow, and all things winter-y because of that. There’s a whole string of imagery that you will have picked up on – the cold, the void, the darkness – that remind him of Romulus.
I hope you enjoyed the chapter! Let me know what you think ^-^ ]
Chapter 17: Laura comes to a realization.
Chapter Text
17.
The teacher’s kitchen was empty, thanks to the lull between breakfast and lunch.
Laura sat down, set on eating quickly and then going to check on Daken. She’d agreed to leave his room only because he was right that she desperately needed some rest, and she’d slept soundly for a few hours – but she didn’t like the thought of leaving him alone and bed-ridden, not after what she’d seen in his mind. She knew him, and she knew that there was still work to be done. Just because he’d agreed to come back didn’t mean he wasn’t grieving. Being trapped in his own body had taken its toll, and she hadn’t seen any anger in him. That, she could have got behind, because it would have meant he had something to focus on. But he’d acted so subdued that morning.
And there was Logan. Daken hadn’t commented on it, but his parting words had clearly been an overture. It was up to Logan now, but she feared he’d just stay clear of the med bay and wait for Daken to make the first step.
“That porridge is going to get cold, ya know.”
Laura looked up. She hadn’t noticed Jubilee sneaking up on her; not a good sign.
But she smiled at her friend. Jubilee was holding a tray, her sunglasses pushed into her hair, and grinned back. “Can I sit here?”
“Of course.” Laura dug her spoon into the porridge, that did look a bit cold already. “Shogo?”
“Still with Jono!” Jubilee settled down and dug into her own breakfast with gusto, to mask the faint color rising to her cheeks. Her heartbeat was a little erratic, like always these days. “He volunteered last night, you know, to let me check on your brother. I popped in just now and he said they had a ‘boys only outing’, so I let them go. Can’t be too upset if I overslept, right?” She winced a bit.
“You did stay up most of the night,” Laura said softly. She was extremely grateful for that. It had warmed her to see Jubilee in the room when she’d come to.
“Yeah.” Jubilee ducked her head, a little smile on her lips. “Not like you. I didn’t even think I’d see you here, thought you were sleeping it off with Gabby.”
“Gabby is still sleeping,” Laura conceded. “I slept more than enough.” She ate a few spoonfuls during the moment of silence that followed. Jubilee was gazing at her with something Laura couldn’t quite name.
“You still worried?” she said eventually.
“I can’t not worry,” Laura set down the spoon. “Yes, Daken’s safe now. But he’s not… he’s not well. I want to be there for him.”
Jubilee nodded. “You know, I remember him from your mom’s funeral.” Laura shut her eyes for a moment. “It was the first time I saw him, I think, from up close at least,” Jubilee said softly. “This scary supervillain who’s done a lot of really questionable things. But he practically melts around you and Gabby. You do him a world of good, Laura.” She smiled. “I think it’s great that you worry about your brother.” Jubilee reached out suddenly, and grabbed her hand. It wasn’t unwelcome or strange – she’d done it before, and Laura had learned to be affectionate a while ago. But Jubilee had a shimmer in her eyes and red blotches on her cheeks, and her heart rate was increasing –
Oh. Laura blinked, surprised. But it wasn’t unwelcome. Was it? She wasn’t sure.
“But?” she stalled.
“But Laura, you’re going all Wolvie again. All wrapped up and ready to take the weight of the whole world on your shoulders. And you don’t need to, okay? You’ve got friends.” You’ve got me, her scent was saying. Completely, and unreservedly.
Her heart skipped a beat. It was strange. She hadn’t felt this way in a while. After Warren – frankly, she thought he’d been a distraction. She needed to stay focused on Gabby, and ultimately he couldn’t get that. He was always moping about the lost time, and neither of them deserved to get stuck.
And Jubilee didn’t either. “Jubilee,” Laura said softly, “Are you worried as my friend, or as a potential partner?”
Jubilee squeaked. “Oh, God, I fucked it up. Didn’t I?” She brought her free hand to her quickly reddening face. “I’m sorry, really! I know you have a lot of things to worry about and I don’t want to pressure you. Your friendship is too important to me. Let’s restart, okay? Let’s pretend this isn’t happening, okay? Yes?” She was rubbing her free hand over her eyes, and let out a nervous laughter, and it hurt, to see her like that. Laura didn’t want her to hurt.
“Jubilee.” She squeezed her hand. “I care about you. You’re very dear to me.” Jubilee moaned in embarrassment.
“Oh, God.” She hung her head – but she could have pulled her hand away, and she wasn’t doing it, soaking in the warm contact. And Laura found that she couldn’t let go either. She didn’t know what to do – this was new. It felt natural, after what they’d faced. Jubilee had always been at her side, and Laura often found herself craving her company. But this was a commitment of a different kind. She did love when they lay on the grass, talking, sometimes holding hands. Simple things. But what if Jubilee wanted more? More time, more attention? She deserved someone to help with Shogo, too. Someone who wouldn’t disappear for weeks on end.
“… I thought you were dating Starsmore.” That – wasn’t what she’d wanted to say, but it came out of her mouth in a rush. Jubilee looked up, distinct hope in her eyes.
“Jono’s great. He’s a good guy, you know. But he’s -” She bit her lower lip. “We aren’t – we don’t really work. We’re better off as friends. And he agrees. He –” She let out a hesitant laughter. “He, um, he’s the one who said I was being silly and I should just go after you.”
Laura was taken aback. “Did he?”
Jubilee looked sheepish. “He said I was being obvious and I shouldn’t hold off. But it’s fine!” she hurried to add. “I don’t want to lose you, Laura, really. We can keep being friends. If you still want to. I won’t bother you, promise.”
“You would never bother me.” There was a lump in Laura’s throat. She felt – her chest felt so light. She wanted… God, she wanted to try. She squeezed Jubilee’s hand. “I don’t want to pretend this conversation didn’t happen, Jubilee.”
“Yeah. Of course.” She grimaced and made to pull her hand away but Laura held on to it like the precious thing it was, covering it with her other hand too. Jubilee gasped, and searched Laura’s face.
“I’m saying I – I think I feel the same.” Laura carefully searched for the right words, feeling heat rising to her cheeks. “And I do want to try. You’re precious to me, Jubilee. I -”
She couldn’t finish that sentence, because Jubilee sprang to her feet, the most beautiful smile on her face, and leaned over the table – only to stop a few inches from Laura’s face. “Sorry. Can I – can I kiss you? I really want to kiss you,” she murmured, her breath warm against Laura’s lips.
“Yes.” Laura tilted her head up.
It was sloppy. And enthusiastic, and happy, and so, so warm, Jubilee’s lips so soft and tentative against hers. Jubilee jiggled as she kissed her, exhilarated, and Laura felt giddy too. She had only ever kissed another woman before. Finesse. It had been cold and mechanical and her betrayal still stung. But it was different with Jubilee. It felt right. It felt warm, and kind, and like coming home. She found she could keep going for hours, but Jubilee needed to breathe, and eventually she broke the kiss – but she stayed there, resting her forehead against Laura’s, her eyes alight with joy.
It was a beautiful sight.
Laura? I’m so sorry to interrupt this. Jean’s voice rang clearly in her mind. Laura stiffened, her mind already racing with the possibilities – Daken was hurting. He needed help… No, no, nothing quite so serious! I’d go, but I don’t think he trusts me yet to suddenly appear in his room.
Tell me.
Jubilee blinked and moved back a bit, worry clear in her gaze – perhaps thinking Laura was having second thoughts. “All right?” she said hesitantly.
Laura tapped at her own temple. “It’s Jean.” I’m waiting.
I’m routinely checking on him... just the surface of his thoughts. And he’s upset right now. He could use some company.
I’m on it. She looked back at Jubilee, who waited patiently. “I – I need to go. Daken needs me. Do you mind -”
“Of course not!” Jubilee squeezed her hand. “You go. We’ll catch up later -?” There was a hint of fear there at the end, even though she masked it admirably. Laura’s chest ached.
Actually, Jean spoke up, Her cheerful demeanor might help. Keep his mind off his thoughts.
Thank you, Jean. “Would you mind coming with?” Laura amended her question.
Jubilee smiled like the sun. “Lead the way!”
They cleared the table and took off for the med bay, and it was natural to hold their hands as they walked. Jubilee was gently brushing her fingers against Laura’s palm, a radiant smile on her face, and it was warm and beautiful.
When they reached the med bay, she could smell from a distance that Daken was upset. They stopped at his door. He was giving his back to it, when he never would have done something so tactically disadvantageous, and he radiated frustration and rage and self-hatred, huddled up under the covers like he used to do on Mystique’s plane. The air smelt vaguely rancid, and she caught Iceman’s scent, lingering. A tray with red meat and spinach lay mostly untouched on the nighstand.
Laura knocked softly. “Daken?”
Her brother shifted under the covers. “Did you get some sleep?” he grumbled irritably. Heartened by the presence of a lively streak, Laura came into the room.
“Yes, I did. Did you?”
Daken muttered “As if,” under his breath. Then, louder: “What is she doing here?”
“Hey, I’m offended!” Jubilee said cheerfully. “We came to visit you. How are you holding up?”
With a groan, Daken rolled to his other side so he could face them, only his eyes visible above the blanket. They were two bright slits. “What does it look like?”
He was clearly upset.
He’d never say what was wrong, not in Jubilee’s presence, but Laura could guess. She worriedly took a step in his direction, her arm stretched behind – and he immediately zeroed in on her linked hands with Jubilee.
He looked up at her, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Ah. You brought your girlfriend to see the family. Well come on, Ms Lee, don’t be shy. Let me see you.”
Laura blushed and suddenly wanted to drag Jubilee away – she knew he could be unpleasant when he wanted to – but he was sitting up now, and the distraction would do him good. And if he overstepped his boundaries, Laura would have words with him.
Much later. When he was feeling better again.
Jubilee, however, was undeterred, and she walked up to him, dragging Laura with her. “Ms Lee? Do I look your age? Call me by my name, everyone does.”
He smirked. It was like witnessing the second coming, so stark was the relief Laura felt at the sight. “I’m sorry. Jubilation. Blessings upon this union,” he said with a flourish.
Jubilee snorted. “No, no, no. Too stuffy! It’s Ju-bi-lee,” she pronounced clearly. “Pleasure to meet you!” She stuck out her free hand.
He looked at it. “We’ve met,” he said, arching an eyebrow.
At her mom’s funeral. But he’d mostly kept to himself, nodding to Old Logan and Remy from a distance and ignoring the other X-Men, opting for entertaining her aunt.
“But we didn’t speak! You know, to get to know each other.” Jubilee grinned.
“Oh, I know you.” Daken cocked his head. “You’re one of Logan’s strays.” He looked like he wanted to add something, but then he kept his mouth shut.
“Be nice,” Laura said quietly.
“Anything for you, sister.” Daken smiled at her, then shook Jubilee’s hand. “I’m sorry.”
“You know, that was pretty tame for an insult,” Jubilee said brightly. “I honestly expected worse.”
“It wasn’t, per se,” Daken said. “You’re part of the army of little girls whom he sees and instantly decides to adopt. In short, his stray.” There wasn’t the old heat in his voice – he was past that. He’d told her once that Logan only took on girls because they were easier to control. His tone as he said so haunted her to this day. “And I’d never really insult someone who’s seeing my sister. Although,” Daken cocked his head. “I would hurt you if you hurt her.”
“I don’t plan to,” Jubilee said softly, beaming at her. Laura’s chest fluttered.
“How sickening. You’re like two puppies.” Daken shook his head. “What are you doing here? Go make out in the hallways. Give them a scandal. Live a little!”
“I wanted to check on you,” Laura murmured. Daken’s gaze softened.
“You don’t need to worry about me, Laura. I’m a grown man, I can handle some solitude.”
You really can’t, she thought. He was putting on a mask for her benefit, but he’d go back to marinate in guilt as soon as they left. She sat down on his bed. “ Well, indulge me. How are you holding up?”
He sniffed. “Terribly. The food’s obscene and I’m wearing cotton boxers,” he deflected.
“Oh, the horror,” Jubilee stage-whispered. He nodded at her.
“Exactly. Oh, and I might have lost my pheromones, but McCoy’s on it,” he said offhandedly. Laura felt her eyes widen.
“I’m so sorry.” She caught his hand. “I noticed you weren’t using them, but I didn’t think to tell you when you came back.”
“You were barely holding your eyes open,” he pointed out, softly. “I think I can forgive you.”
“Yeah, that sucks,” Jubilee piped up – a remote lilt to her voice. “I spent some time without my powers, you know. After M-Day. And then I became a vampire. I’d really missed the fireworks,” she whispered reverently.
Laura squeezed her hand. “But now you have them back.”
“Yeah.” Jubilee found her smile again. “So hang on, okay?” she told Daken. “You’ll get them back.”
“… Thank you,” he said quietly.
Then he changed completely, bristling as he smelt who’d just come into the med bay. Iceman approached slowly and hesitantly, as if fearing for his life, and Laura wondered what had happened earlier. Had the man stopped by to apologize for stabbing Daken? He’d expressed that he wanted to, a few times. Perhaps she should have dissuaded him, knowing Daken was indeed angry at the man, but she’d thought that gratitude would temper Daken’s reaction.
It hadn’t, evidently. “What do you want?” he ground out through gritted teeth. Iceman stopped at the door with a wince.
“Sorry. Lorna messaged me back. You said you wanted to know -”
“And?”
“She’ll work on it and let you know. And... I thought... maybe I could tell Kitty to increase our efforts to find him, what do you -”
“Considering your efforts have been lukewarm at best so far, that will be an improvement,” Daken spat. Jubilee arched an eyebrow at the exchange. “But of course, teen Jean says it’s all right, so there’s no need to really look for him, right?” Were they talking about Jimmy?
“… We’ve been occupied.” Iceman said dejectedly.
“Well, pray you find him soon, Drake, or else you’re going to have to deal with me. Now get out.”
Iceman hung his head and left without a word. Jubilee whistled and turned to look at Daken. “Damn, why so vicious? Bobby’s a good kid, you know.”
“You think Logan’s the best person in the world,” Daken said contemptuously, all his disdain gone. “Your judgment’s impaired.”
“No, I think Laura’s the best person in the world,” Jubilee corrected him. “Get your facts straight. What was that about?” she asked, simmering with curiosity. “Why did you ask him to contact Polaris?”
Daken scoffed. “I wouldn’t trust him to deliver a message. I sent her a message from his phone, seeing as I can’t have one of my own. Pryde thinks I can’t be trusted not to send blueprints of the school to all of my villainous buddies, apparently. Confined to a bed, no less. She thinks too highly of me.” He rolled his eyes.
“You can use mine.” Before Laura could suggest the same, Jubilee had already fished a phone out of her pocket. “It’s a spare.”
Daken took it, an odd look on his face. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. I don’t have Lorna’s number, I’ll have to ask -”
“I know it.” Daken entered it on the phone.
“Well, that’s a story I’m curious about.” Jubilee grinned. “You’re friends with her?”
“Her company’s adequate.”
“Ohhh, her company’s adequate.” Jubilee waggled her eyebrows. “Whatcha ask her?”
“To find Jimmy, right?” Laura interrupted their chat, lovely as it was to see them so at ease with each other. “Why?” There was a looming sense of dread in her. She hadn’t thought about him, all her efforts focused on finding Daken. Did he fear Jimmy had been taken from Soteira too? Had he seen their brother at the facility, perhaps?
He squeezed her hand. “I’d just better be absolutely sure he’s roaming some forest in communion with that thing. I can’t shake off the feeling he’s in danger.”
“I should have thought about it,” she said. She heard the despair in her voice. “It just slipped my mind. I never got close to him in the first place, and it slipped my mind.” How could she berate Logan for playing favorites when she’d done the same? Jimmy was blood, just as Daken and Gabby and Logan. He was family. And she’d thought it unimportant. “I should have -”
“You did your best,” he told her softly. “You saved me, Laura. You can’t be everywhere.”
“He’s right.” Jubilee squeezed her arm. “I’m sure we’ll find him, okay? You heard Bobby -”
Daken scoffed.
“Okay, seriously. What’s your deal with Bobby?” Jubilee asked – changing the topic, trying to distract Laura. That wouldn’t work. She’d been reckless. Stupid -
Jubilee wrapped an arm around her, and she melted into the embrace with some shame. She should get out, track Pryde down and urge her to use all their resources, but Jubilee was warm and safe.
And Daken was snarking away, and at least some things were well.
She had to take her victories.
Notes:
Next: Daken’s situation is discussed.
.
[I’ve been shipping these girls for ages and I’m beyond overjoyed I could work their relationship in here! I think they work tremendously well, they really balance each other out.
Do let me know what you think! Your comments keep me going ^-^ ]
Chapter 18: Daken’s situation is discussed.
Chapter Text
18.
“Let me get this straight,” Logan said through gritted teeth. “We don’t have anything?”
He’d finally managed to get into a meeting about Soteira. Now that his boy was well, he could keep up to date on the search for the bastards that had taken and used the both of them. He’d expected some progress to have already been made, perhaps plans to be already in motion. He’d had a mind to join whatever mission was about to be launched, seeing as Daken didn’t want to see him for now – wanting to give the boy some results as a peace offering, the head of one of their tormentors perhaps.
But the X-Men had none of the above.
Kitty sighed. “We have some names. And money trails. We’ll follow them -”
“But none of them will know who procured the chemical.” Logan crossed his arms. “Right?”
Across from him, Jean grimaced. She and Betsy had closely examined the mind of the man they’d found with Daken, one of the “masters”: he was convinced that none of his colleagues knew who’d actually come up with that thing. They’d perfected it on Logan, apparently, but where had it come from?
This meant that, even if the X-Men dismantled Soteira, some form of the chemical would still be out there, a threat to his entire family. That couldn’t do.
“I would cross that bridge when we come to it,” Betsy spoke up. She was sitting beside Jean, her arms crossed on the table. “That’s just what that lowform believes; it’s not necessarily the truth. I suggest we start worrying about it if we find out it’s true.” Rachel, standing behind Kitty, shook her head. Before she could intervene, Betsy added: “I get the danger, believe me. But we don’t have anything to work on, at the moment. Once we have a clearer picture, we’ll be able to cross-reference and investigate more easily.” She sounded cool, and detached. It seemed that involving her had been the right choice; instead of sitting in her room all day, she’d been given a purpose, and she could focus on it instead of staying alone with her thoughts.
What she said made sense; they needed to interrogate each and everyone of the bastards, there was no way around it. If no one knew anything, they could still know someone who did – and there was no way of knowing without getting to them first.
It made sense; but Logan didn’t like it. These things took time, and most of the bastards must have gotten into hiding already.
’Ro gently squeezed his arm, as if to remind him that he wasn’t alone and they’d all contribute to fix this as quickly as possible.
“Betsy’s right,” Kitty said, cocking her head in thanks. “We’ll be thorough, Logan. And if we still don’t manage to get intel,” she grimaced, “we have two informers to use as a last resort.”
She meant him and Daken. The telepaths could hunt down information in their minds, similarly to when they’d sought clues in Logan’s to find Daken. It had taken their concerted effort, though, and Jean said it took too much strain on the victim.
Logan was ready to do it again, to protect his family. Jean knew that; they’d talked about it. If the need for it arose, Logan would comply. But Kitty, no doubt, hoped to use Daken instead, not wanting Logan to get hurt.
As if on cue, Kitty turned towards Hank, who’d sat silently up until now, focused on a tablet. “What’s Daken’s condition?”
“Well,” Hank adjusted his glasses on his nose, buying some time to gather his thoughts. As they waited, Bobby skidded into the room, smelling faintly agitated.
“Sorry I’m late,” he muttered, sliding into a free seat. Logan could smell his son on him. Had he been to the med bay?
“We didn’t really cover anything new,” Kitty waved a hand. “Hank?”
“Daken’s mostly fine,” the man finally said. “He’s a bit worn out, but that’s nothing that his healing factor won’t take care of, with some help. He’s free from the chemical –” He hesitated.
“Go on,” Kitty urged him. Logan leaned on the table to get a better look at him. He was pondering something; Logan knew that look. The scientist in him was simmering against some challenge.
“He’s, ah, experiencing an after-effect. His pheromone manipulation ability seems to be gone.”
Logan sat back against his chair. That must have hit the kid hard; he seemed to rely upon it greatly. “You gonna help him, Hank?”
“Certainly.”
Kitty coughed. “Excuse me – I don’t want to seem callous here, but should we give the manipulative villain a weapon back?”
“Kätzchen,” Kurt chided. Logan was glad for his intervention, because he didn’t quite know how to react. Yes, she was right – but this was his son. His son whom, according to Laura, was trying to turn over a new leaf. All things considered, Kitty was doing an admirable job of holding off her unease at harboring Daken, but then every now and then she went and said something like this – it made Logan itchy.
Kitty threw up her hands. “All right, all right. Sorry. Can’t blame me for thinking about it, though.”
“Well,” Hank said slowly, “I do understand your ethical conundrum. But that’s not up to us.”
“I know, I know,” Kitty muttered. “I get it! I said sorry.”
“Actually, it might not be up to me either,” Hank said, tapping his fingers against the table. “Laura once mentioned that Daken was encountering some difficulties with his healing factor, due to psychological strain. It came back, eventually, but we might be looking at something similar – the trauma he just endured might be blocking his powers.”
“Well, that’s not unheard of.” ’Ro nodded.
“What was this psychological strain?” Logan wanted to know.
“Laura never said.” Hank brushed a finger against his lips, already miles away – focused on this puzzle. “Anyway, that was all from me.”
“All right.” Kitty turned to face Jean and Betsy. “And your opinion?”
“There is trauma,” Jean said. “It is my intention to ask him to stay for a little while, after he gets better. I want to work on his mind with him.”
“And it would be better to have him on hand anyway, at least until we find Soteira, no?” Kurt added, adding his support to have Daken stay – and someday work his issues out with Logan.
“And you think it wise?” Kitty asked with a grimace. “To let him stay here, around the kids?”
Betsy made to speak, but Jean cut her off. “There’s no nefarious plan in his mind, I assure you.”
Kitty glanced at Betsy and motioned with a hand, encouraging her to speak her mind – after all, of the three telepaths, Betsy was the one likelier to express doubts. She’d met Daken at his worst.
But she merely nodded. “What Jean said. He’s clean.”
Kitty looked dubious. “So I shouldn’t worry about him seeking out Zach?”
Betsy grimaced. “Believe me, he has no intention to.”
“For the moment,” Jean said softly yet firmly, looking as if she would personally set up a meeting if no one did. Kitty didn’t comment on that, though she grimaced.
“All right,” she sighed, rubbing at her temple. It was clear that she wasn’t quite enthusiastic at the prospect of allowing Daken to stay for long. “Well, that’s all then. We’ll re-adjourn -”
“Have you talked about Jimmy?” Bobby said suddenly.
“Jimmy?” Kitty furrowed her brows. “No.”
Jimmy. His son from another universe, whom Logan had never met.
“Well, we should be looking for him,” Bobby said. “Just in case -”
Just in case he’d been kidnapped by Soteira, too. Logan’s blood run cold. An alien-possessed brainwashed mini-Logan… he didn’t like that.
“We are looking for him,” Kitty said. “And he’s a force of nature, Bobby, I doubt they’d manage to take him down -”
“That’s what Jean said. Sorry, little Jean,” Bobby muttered in Jean’s direction. “That her entire team couldn’t take him. But we don’t know what kind of resources these people have, Kitty. Better safe than sorry, no?”
“I guess you’re right,” she conceded. “But we’re pretty tight right now, Bobby.”
“I’ll work on it,” Bobby proposed earnestly, surprising Logan – and not just him, judging from the way Kitty raised her eyebrows. He seemed really invested. “I’ll coordinate with Lorna, she’s already looking.”
“I thought Erik decided to let the matter rest,” Logan piped up. They’d told him that Magneto had wanted to terminate the boy, fearful the possession would make him dangerous, and that little Jean had convinced him of the contrary.
“Yes, huh -” Bobby rubbed at his neck. “It’s Daken. He asked her. Through my phone,” he fished it from his pocket. “He’s worried.”
There was a lot to unpack in his words. “Daken knows Jimmy?” And he hadn’t tried to kill him, and was worried about him? “And Lorna?” Well enough to ask her a favor?
“They all worked together,” Kitty said primly. “You remember I mentioned something called Mothervine?” Logan nodded. “It was a terrorist global threat. Lorna led a team to stop it, and Daken was on it.”
Logan sat, dumbfounded. His son, on an X-team. He’d have loved to see it. His heart swelled with pride already. “And that’s how they met? Jimmy and him?”
“No idea.” Kitty cocked her head. “Did Daken put you up to this, Bobby?” she asked, concern in her voice.
Bobby winced. “No, he’ll probably yell at me again when he finds out. But I kind of have to do this now.” His lips thinned to a white line; he smelt ashamed.
Before Logan could ask what did he mean by that, Kitty sighed. “Bobby. I get why you needed to approach him, I really do. But did you have to do it when he’d just come out of mind-control? He was bound to be volatile.”
Bobby grimaced. “I was just passing by, and -” He wrung his hands. “I had to, Kitty.”
“I’m sorry,” Logan interjected, fed up with the nebulous conversation. “What is this about?” It must have something to do with Zach’s accusations, clearly.
“I almost cut your son in half with a huge, sharp snowflake,” Bobby rushed to say. “There was blood everywhere. It hurt a lot, I could see it on his face.”
Logan paused. It couldn’t have been pleasant, that was for sure. But – “This is when you were trying to rescue Zach?”
“Yeah.” Bobby leaned back against his chair, eyeing him worriedly, as if he thought Logan would stab him for the insult – as Zach had probably hoped for when he’d mentioned it. “I know what you’re about to say, but there was no need to do that, I could have done literally anything else. And he wasn’t even himself, so it only seemed right to apologize to him.”
“Well.” Logan shifted on his seat. “If you felt the need to, kid,” he said awkwardly. Perhaps Bobby was waiting for a scolding, but Logan could hardly say something to him.
“I take it it didn’t go well?” Kurt asked. “He’s not required to accept your apology, Bobby. Although it’s commendable you sought to right this wrong.” He clasped Bobby’s arm.
“No, that’s the thing.” Bobby made a face. “He brushed it off, said he couldn’t blame me.” Was this really the same son who’d gone after Logan for years, bent on revenge?
No. They’d already established that he wasn’t.
“But you said he yelled at you.” Kitty pursed her lips.
“Over Zach.” Bobby exchanged a glance full of meaning with her; her eyebrows had almost reached her hairline. “He called me an abusive piece of shit for punching Zach.”
“You punch the boy, don’t notice when he’s gone, put a collar on him –” Logan listed, unable to linger on this new confirmation that his son apparently cared about the boy just as much as the boy cared about him. “No wonder Zach thinks so highly of you.”
Kitty scoffed. “Logan, please. There was an angry mob and Zach was canceling our powers, you’d have done the same.” She turned towards Bobby. “And you apologized to Zach immediately! We explained everything to him –”
“It hardly seemed the right moment to tell that to Daken, you know? He was furious.” Bobby bit his lower lip. “And look, if he knows, it means Zach told him, right? So Zach was obviously still upset by it, at least when he was with Daken. So I went to talk to Zach again – and he wouldn’t hear me out, because, and I quote, I’m just a hypocrite who hurts people and then pretends to care about them. And – he wasn’t talking about himself,” he added quietly. “He said the only reason why he’s not dragging Daken away from our ‘clutches’ is because Jean convinced him that Daken needs help.”
An odd silence fell upon those words. Logan could see the crease of uneasiness in Kitty’s brow; and Logan himself had witnessed first-hand the extent of the boy’s obsession with Daken. He had no idea of what had happened between them, but he saw in the way Kitty’s nostrils flared that she was thinking unsavory, terrible things, despite the boy’s protestations and the fact that, if anything untoward had happened, one of the telepaths – certainly Jean – would have picked up on it.
Logan was furious that Kitty could even think something like that. Daken was a criminal, yes – but he wasn’t an animal. He’d fought against the Death Seed, kept the darkness at bay.
“That’s alarming,” Kitty said eventually.
“Not at all,” Jean countered. “It’s good. It’s genuine affection, Kitty.”
“Zach was held prisoner,” Kitty pointed out. “It’s Stockholm Syndrome, Jean. And Daken can’t have formed a genuine connection with the boy he kidnapped while he was possessed. It’s a ruse -”
“One none of us sees?” Jean arched an eyebrow. “We’ve been in Daken’s mind, Kitty. He cares deeply about the boy.”
“Oh, for crying out loud,” Betsy spoke up. “I get you don’t want to spread his secrets, but it does seem fishy, Jean!”
Kitty nodded. “Thank you, that’s exactly -”
“Listen,” Betsy interrupted her. “I’ll tell you this: Daken’s ashamed. He feels responsible for the boy.” She placed a hand over Jean’s, perhaps in reassurance that she wasn’t going to spill everything they’d seen in Daken’s mind. Jean’s concern touched Logan. “You were there when he apologized to Zach,” Betsy continued. Kitty nodded grimly. “He’s mortified. He’s grief-stricken. He wants to do right by that boy. He thinks what he did was unforgivable -”
“What did he do?” Kitty said hotly.
“Love, you know that.” Rachel put a hand on her shoulder. “We checked. Basic combat training, nothing more -”
“He got him addicted to MGH, Ray.” Kitty rolled her eyes and Logan felt his stomach churn unpleasantly. But this wasn’t his boy. It hadn’t been Daken, but the Death Seed. “And I find it laughable that he’d bemoan Bobby hitting Zach once when he beat up Evan… for how long, Logan?”
Logan grimaced. That – that hadn’t been on the Death Seed. That was on Daken alone. But Daken was different now. Changed for the better; enough that the thought of harming Zach was anathema to him. “A while,” he choked out.
“A while. And I’m supposed to believe he just finds that despicable now? Just like that?”
“Oh, for -”
“Betsy!” Rachel gasped.
“He relates, Kitty!” Betsy exploded. “Believe me, I get your worry. But at the end of the day, Daken was a hurt young mutant that slipped through Charles’ fingers. He once was a suggestible, lonely kid who was taken and trained. We all know the basics from Logan, don’t we? How he was brought up by Romulus?” Betsy cocked her head in his direction. Logan found he couldn’t speak, a lump in his throat, his wrongdoings laid out before him: he hadn’t saved Daken. He’d left him for dead in his momma’s belly, to be retrieved and abused. “He never trained Evan,” Betsy said softly, addressing Kitty once more. “He trained Zach. There’s your difference, Kitty. He thinks he did to Zach the same thing that was done to him, and he hates himself for it. Despite,” she added, because Kitty was opening her mouth again, “not doing anything that monster did.”
Logan’s tongue was sandpaper in his mouth, but he had to ask. He was seething and his heart ached for his son, for the thousands of questions he’d never dared to ask – fearing the answers. “What did Romulus do?” He was of a mind to visit Romulus in prison; he’d been contented to simply leave him there to rot, but now he wanted his blood. He was sure S.H.I.E.L.D. would turn a blind eye on it –
Betsy squeezed Jean’s hand, her clear gaze on Logan once more. “He’ll tell you when he’s ready, Logan.”
And there really wasn’t anything to counter that.
She was right. His son would tell him when he was ready –
And Logan hoped he would be ready to listen this time.
Notes:
Next: A conversation under the stars.
.
[I’m taking a holiday break! The fic will return on January 6th.]
Chapter 19: A conversation under the stars.
Chapter Text
19.
Daken was getting antsy.
Resting was well and good, but at the end of the second day he found that he’d spent even too much time doing nothing. The hours went slowly by; his sisters came to visit often, but it wasn’t right to monopolize their time like this. Especially with Laura’s newest development – it was good, to see her like this. She’d talked about Lee sometimes, before, and he’d always thought there was more to it than what she said. And now he was proven right, and she was happy, and relaxed, and he didn’t want her to spend the first days of her relationship stuck at his bedside.
He’d finally told her to just bring him some books and then go spend some time alone with her woman; but he’d ended up spending the last few hours with Gabby huddled up on his bed and chatting away, the books forgotten. After dinner Laura had reappeared to take Gabby to their room, and it gladdened him to see her so rested, exuding happiness.
During the past two days he’d also seen Hank McCoy more times than he’d have cared to in his life, the man constantly showing up to prod here and there, still no answer to give – but at least reassuring Daken that the chemical seemed to be gone.
Which was great, yes. But his pheromone manipulation was still missing, and he was beginning to despair.
It was a part of him. God knew how often he’d cursed it, especially when he was young – unable to understand whether anyone truly wanted his company. But then he’d learned to turn it into a sharp weapon at his disposal. It was a part of his daily life, every smallest interaction tinged by it. It was a sixth sense, and he felt lost without it. He felt naked, exposed. He thought back on things he hadn’t thought about in a long time – how different life could have been without it, for instance. Perhaps he’d have had a more balanced childhood. Still horribly bullied by the children around the village, but would it have mattered as strongly as it had, if the bitch Natsumi hadn’t been too scared to comfort him? Perhaps she would have contented herself with just Daken; perhaps she wouldn't have tried to force Akihira's hand by announcing her pregnancy. Perhaps they could have been a family -
Of course, Romulus would have wanted to take him, eventually. Perhaps he’d have killed Daken’s adoptive parents himself, instead of letting Daken do all the work at his tender age. There was no doubt, though, that he would have eventually turned up in Romulus’ care.
He was getting maudlin. This room was turning him into a fool, and another sleepless night loomed ahead, filled with rotten thoughts.
Daken flung his legs to the side of the bed and took some tentative steps around the room. He’d been trying all throughout the past two days, and that afternoon, at lunch, he’d still felt a bit lightheaded.
That didn’t seem to be happening now. He went for the adjacent toilet to relieve himself and eyed the X-branded joggers, t-shirt, hoodie and sneakers that had been left for him. Gabby had looked ecstatic at the sight, and demanded the whole outfit for her too. Daken would rather be caught dead than wearing such low-quality cotton – apparently the school was on a budget, unlike Magneto who’d provided more than acceptable uniforms – but beggars couldn’t be choosers. It was either this, or the hospital clothes.
Once dressed, Daken jogged a little on the spot. He felt better – he was breathing normally, and his heartbeat was steady. He’d eaten the blob they’d given him, drunk their water, and ingested whatever concoction McCoy had decided to try tonight. He’d attempted to sleep, but his brain wouldn’t have it. The X-Men couldn’t certainly say he wasn’t complying.
It was time to test the limits of Pryde’s blanket permission to go about at his leisure.
The woman had stopped by that morning, ostensibly to update him. They were looking for any Soteira bastard who’d managed to evade their grasp. When he felt better, he’d be asked to undergo a brief telepathic eval, to see if he remembered something that could be of use; they wouldn’t dig deeper without his explicit consent, and even so, only if the X-Men were having trouble finding every bastard.
He didn’t look forward to that, but he liked the prospect of some of them being still out there even less, and there was the matter of Jimmy, still M.I.A.
They hadn’t found him yet. Lorna was working with Drake, of all people, and she’d let it slip to the man that she was updating Daken. This had led to Pryde standing at the feet of the bed and ending her debrief with the reason why she’d come to debrief him in the first place: “Please hand over the phone.”
“Not a chance.”
Had he been alone, perhaps Pryde would have tried to overpower him, but – what a fortunate coincidence! – Old Logan had decided to stop by that morning, on his way from a checkup; apparently, he’d discovered he was suffering from adamantium poisoning. They’d got it in time, though, and McCoy was confident he could treat it. Daken had to admit that having Old Logan threateningly sat on the plastic chair, his arms crossed and an unimpressed eyebrow raised, made for an imposing figure.
Emboldened by Pryde’s silence, Daken had gone on: “Feel free to hack it, I have nothing to hide. But I won’t rid myself of my only way to be sure you’re doing your best to find my brother.”
She’d grimaced. “We are doing our best.”
“Results, Pryde. Results.”
In the end, she’d let the matter go with a huff, after an extended pause and a characteristic blank stare that led him to believe she was conversing telepathically with someone.
As he walked the shadowed and empty corridors – he heard mostly snoring from the upper levels – he felt the lightest brush against his consciousness. He’d felt it from time to time over the past two days – so brief one would almost think to have imagined it – but now he apparently had the full attention of whoever was tasked to telepathically check on him tonight. Well, Pryde had said he’d be monitored; he wouldn’t be surprised if there were also cameras pointed on him.
He wasn’t... as angry about that as he’d thought he’d be, especially after his ordeal. He had the telepaths to thank for his return, after all, and none of them seemed to be snooping around, or else the traps in his mind would have snapped already. He supposed he could tentatively trust them, at least for the moment.
That meant he couldn’t try to pay a visit to the bastard who’d made Daken call him “master”, even if he’d have loved to. He wandered around aimlessly, past labs and classrooms, until he found himself at the entrance.
He stopped dead in his tracks. The windows were rather large, and they showed a good portion of Central Park. It was a clear night, some stars visible despite the smog and the lights of the city.
His nose hit the glass. He found himself leaning against the window, some sense of inexplicable longing in his heart. He ached for clean air – or as clean as it could be in New York – after days stuck in that med bay and days imprisoned inside his own body.
He walked to the front door and wrapped his hand around the knob. He almost expected a spark of electricity to stab his brain in warning, or for Pryde to drop from the ceiling in her nightgown, but the door gave way and he stood there, breathing the cool night air with a sort of exhilarated thrill –
Free. He was free.
It hadn’t registered, perhaps, not until this moment. While rescued, he’d still been holed up and prodded like in any other lab, confined to a bed and stale air.
He was free. He was his own, and he could do whatever the hell he pleased.
His hands thrust in his pockets, he started down the path – not the one leading to the gates, but the one circling the school. So hidden among the green, it could almost feel peaceful.
It was, to a degree. No screaming children, no annoying adults. No monsters in white coats, nor leering in the shadows. Just a quiet lane on a quiet night, after days of horror and tedium. It was nice.
It was obvious it wouldn’t last.
From upwind came a whiff of a scent he’d thought he’d never smell again. Its owner stilled, catching sight of him, and they were left stranded, staring at each other from opposite ends of a fork.
Logan cursed under his breath, hastily muttered an apology, and made to retrace his steps. Daken could let him go, perhaps. He could leave this to another day.
But it was bound to happen, eventually – and, perhaps, the sooner the better.
“Logan,” he called out, making his way towards his father. Logan was frozen, gazing at him almost fearfully. It was inevitable, after how things had ended between them: a good old assisted suicide performed by an unaware assistant, followed by a Death Seed-tinged beating.
He liked to think he wouldn’t have dragged out Logan’s beating for so long, if he hadn’t been possessed. But the truth was that he couldn’t know.
He did regret it. Their last fight had been brutal, and the fact that it was the last memory he had of Logan had shaken him badly, after the news of his death. He supposed he’d gone through all stages of grief and beyond. Oh, he’d thought he was happy, at first. Glad that Logan had kicked the bucket. But he’d ended up mourning what-could-have-beens, replaying unlikely scenarios in his head. It was a wonder the Seed hadn’t taken a hold of him then, but perhaps he’d simply been too pathetic.
“I wasn’t trailing you, son,” Logan rushed to say as soon as they came face to face. “Just taking a stroll -”
“I know.” Daken shook his head. “You wouldn’t have let me catch your scent like this.” Logan seemed at a loss for words; expecting blows and scathing words and general violence. It had always been the only language they could speak.
No more.
“Walk with me?” Daken motioned to the path and Logan started, then nodded, always with that befuddled expression on his face.
It was understandable, though. It was strange to walk like this, in silence, wariness seeping from them both despite his best efforts. Some part of Daken still crawled at being so close, instinct telling him to fight, to tear at Logan for a long list of wrongs – both true and imagined. But he was tired of fighting this fight. He’d gained some perspective.
That didn’t mean that finding a conversational topic wasn’t hard. What could he say? ‘So, you’re alive’? ‘Hey, pops, remember that time I tortured you for aeons, that time I made you kill me, that time you carved my claws out of me and took Romulus from me and just told me you’d taken care of him, all the times we stuck our claws into each other’? Logan must be battling the same dilemma.
Daken cleared his throat, making Logan jump. “So. What brings you out this fine night?”
“Couldn’t sleep,” Logan grunted.
Daken hummed. “Your lovers couldn’t keep you company?” Their scents coiled heavily around Logan. They made Daken’s stomach churn – but his mother was dead. She’d been for so long. Daken shouldn’t hold Logan accountable because the man had decided to move on from her.
Logan paused, perhaps trying to read his tone. “They know when I need to stay alone,” he said eventually.
“A good skill to have,” Daken agreed amiably. That seemed to reassure Logan that they weren’t inches away from a clawfight, and he relaxed.
“You?” he said hesitantly.
“Couldn’t sleep either, unsurprisingly.” Daken kicked a small pebble off the path. “I wonder why.”
“We’ll get them,” Logan growled lowly. “We’ll get every single one of them.”
Kids usually wanted their father to drive away the monster hiding in the shadows. Logan hadn’t managed to, but this could be a good compromise, if Daken was willing to see it as such.
“I’m sure we will,” he said – encompassing them both in that statement, showing Logan there was an us. “We’ll make them pay for what they did to us.”
There was a brief moment of silence – Logan held his breath, catching Daken’s meaning – and then Logan sighed. “How are you holding up, son?”
Daken chuckled. “You know, Laura asked me that exact same thing. That’s a silly question, don’t you think? How could I possibly be holding up?”
“Laura worries about you,” Logan said quietly, wonder in his voice. Daken felt his features soften.
“Yes, she’s always taking care of me.” She’d dragged him out of his mind with the same firmness that constantly surprised him; she was the family he’d never had.
Logan nodded to himself. “She was desperate to find you. She didn’t stop until she found a way – it’s good, to see you together.” He hesitated. “You care for her.”
“She’s my sister,” Daken said simply. “We’ve been through a lot.” He fidgeted, unsure. Logan seemed to be trying to circle back to the two of them, but Daken didn’t know if he could face that conversation yet. So much bad blood, so many lies. Such pain they’d both inflicted to each other. Couldn’t Logan content himself with this simple conversation? “There was many a time I wouldn’t have survived without her,” he said offhandedly, hoping Logan would focus on that piece of information – interrogate him on their “adventures”, perhaps.
But Logan wasn’t listening, stuck on something – his gaze pensive, sad. “She told me I fucked you up,” he murmured. Daken shut his eyes. Oh, Laura. “And I think she was right. Son –”
“Don’t,” Daken begged. It wasn’t the time. Perhaps it never would be. “Just don’t, Logan.”
“I need to -”
“What about what I need?” It came out harsher than intended. Daken took a deep breath, stared up at the sky. They’d both stopped walking – two ghosts looming on the ground, stuck on the past. It couldn’t do. “There’s too much baggage between us, Logan. We’ll never make anything that happened right. It’s been years, and you were dead, and I – I had to make my peace with it without you.”
Logan hung his head.
“I just wish I’d listened,” he muttered, dejected. Daken didn’t want to hear it. It brought it all back – all his rage at Logan’s blindness, at his self-pity, at his unique way of making Daken’s pain all about him. “I wish I’d been there for you, son, and helped you -”
“You were decades late,” Daken snapped, hoping to shut him up – to manage to hold the resentment at bay. He didn’t want to turn this conversation into a fight. “Nothing you could have done – nothing – would have helped me.” That was, ultimately, true. Daken had been doomed from the moment he’d seen Logan – wired to hate him, whatever his father did and said. Even when he’d learnt the truth about his mother’s death, his hate had turned into a resentment that couldn’t be dispelled. Only Logan’s death had brought him some perspective; and he’d be damned if he let Logan wipe out all the work he’d done on himself.
“I should have let you handle Romulus,” Logan murmured – that name falling off his lips was like a shock of cold water. Logan had no right to name him… he had no idea what he was talking about… He’d had no right. No right to finish Romulus off. It should have been Daken to deal the killing blow –
“Yes, you should have,” Daken choked out. Perhaps it was time to call it a night – retire before he did something he’d regret, like gutting Logan. Such an action would put him at odds with the whole school, too – and probably with Laura. “It should have been me to kill him, not you. But it’s no use talking about it, Logan. He’s dead, and that’s all that matters.” It had to be all that mattered. It wasn’t enough, but he had to make due.
Logan fell silent, finally shut up, and Daken resumed to walk. He’d leave it at that, leave Logan there. He’d round the school and then go back to his room. This hadn’t been too bad, as a first conversation could have gone. They hadn’t shouted. They hadn’t fought. Logan was giving him space –
“Son,” Logan spoke up. Something in his voice – a chilling dread – made Daken stop in his tracks. He turned; Logan was very pale, his lips moving and moving, but nothing came out, as if he was shell-shocked.
It made Daken’s blood run cold. He reached his father again, battling against his instinct telling him to run, run, run. He wouldn’t like whatever Logan had to say. That was a certainty, one he felt in his bones. He was shaking, as if he could tell already the news. There was only one reason why Logan would look at him like that. Only one reason why all the hairs in Daken’s body stood on end. He felt it, because he was conditioned to; fangs gleaming in the dark and eyes made of nothing and nails as sharp as razors –
“Son.” Logan grabbed his arm. Daken shook him off, feeling hot and cold, he couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t breathe.
“He’s not dead,” he wheezed. “He’s alive, isn’t he? Alive, and well, roaming the world, ready to take me, ready to -”
“He’s in prison,” Logan ground out. “He’s locked up real good, he can’t escape. I swear, son, he can’t do anything to you -”
Daken laughed. It was hysterical, how Logan thought that Romulus could only hurt him if he was close. A real blast. Oh, a good joke, such a funny joke –
“Son, I swear to you -” Logan tried to touch him, again. Daken unsheathed his claws, stopping short of actually plunging them into Logan’s stomach. This wasn’t how it should have gone. He was doing so well, God, so well. Dreadful, but on the right path, he’d thought. And instead, instead –
Logan attempted again to clasp his arm and Daken slashed, again stopping inches from Logan’s flesh. Logan didn’t even try to parry and that somehow enraged Daken even more. “Don’t think I won’t stab you!” he snarled. “Why did you tell me you’d killed him if you hadn’t? Do you have any idea how I felt, lying there, taking your punishment -” he shuddered, stopped that train of thought. “I had to tell myself it was fine, that at least you’d handled it, daddy was taking care of me,” he spat, mockingly, venom surging out like on his worst days, like when he was a lesser person, a worse person, a bitter, ugly person – the worst part of himself. “You should have told me he was alive. As a courtesy, at least, since you obviously don’t care, you never cared -”
“Son, I do. I swear I do -”
And oh, God, the worst part was that Logan sounded so convinced. So sure. So maddeningly, ridiculously sure. The man just had no fucking clue. It was -
Exhausting.
Daken took a step back, trying to regulate his breathing – he had to calm down. No good would come from this. He had to focus, and reassess.
He wouldn’t let Logan pull him into the void again. He was better. He was a better person now. He would not fall into old habits.
He retracted his claws.
“Son -” Logan reached out – stopped, when he saw Daken’s face.
“Don’t talk to me ever again,” Daken said quietly. “I’ll stay, we’ll work together, we’ll hunt those bastards down. But we’re through, Logan. We’re through.”
Logan’s hand fell to his side, and he nodded, not daring saying anything.
Daken walked past him, and retraced his steps without looking back.
Notes:
Next: Laura supports her brother.
.
[Well, this was bound to happen. I wonder if you’d seen it coming? I tried not to be too on the nose with the references in earlier chapters.
While Logan does tell Daken on panel that Romulus’ “gone,” and he takes care to add that he isn’t dead... he then goes on to stab Daken and take his Muramasa wrist claws out. Those took ages to heal, since the metal affected Daken’s healing factor: we see Daken’s scars too. Ergo, Daken must have been feverish for a good while there, slipping in and out of consciousness. So that got me thinking, what if Daken doesn’t even clearly remember how that conversation went, especially since afterwards, in all of his solos, he never expresses the desire to look for Romulus even though he was on record saying he wanted to kill him? What if he simply thinks that Logan killed him? And that’s how we got here!
I think there are a lot of things these two need to talk about.
I hope you enjoyed the chapter! Do tell me what you think, your comments make my day! ^-^ ]
Chapter 20: Laura supports her brother.
Notes:
Additional Warnings: mentions of suicidal behavior.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
20.
“I can’t believe he kept it secret,” Laura said.
She looked ready to wage war on his behalf, her green eyes blazing with seething fury. It would be a sight, for sure, but it was enough to know that she had his back.
Daken sighed. “I can.”
Laura clasped his hand. Her warmth was welcome; he kept breaking out into shivers that had nothing to do with the cold.
When she’d walked into the med bay, that morning, Gabby tailing her with sleep-filled eyes, it had taken just one look at him to know something was wrong. She’d sent Gabby away with the promise of letting her know when he felt better – Gabby had half-hugged him through the covers and told him to take care – and then, slowly and gently, managed to coax him first out of bed and then out of the room, to then drag him outside to catch a bit of fresh hair. They’d walked to a secluded part of the yard, hidden enough from the park too, and she’d made him sit on a bench. He moved like wading in water – every motion heavy. They’d sat silently for what felt like hours, but it couldn’t have been that long.
Eventually, she’d told him that she’d come that early because, upon waking up, Jean had alerted her. The woman hadn’t disclosed anything, proving to be the discreet person she’d said she was; but she’d told Laura to go check on him. And Laura had brought Gabby, thinking she could cheer him up, but she’d known as soon as she got in that he wasn’t in the mood. It saddened him, but that was probably true. He couldn’t sour Gabby’s cheerfulness, he wouldn’t forgive himself for it.
“So,” Laura had concluded, “We’re going to sit here and enjoy some quiet. And you don’t have to tell me anything, Daken. But know I’m here to listen.”
“You should be with Jubilee,” he’d muttered. He smelt the woman on her, and he could guess where Laura had spent the night. He couldn’t be such a burden on her shoulders; Laura deserved happiness. She was so well-balanced – the best of them.
“I should be with my brother,” she’d stated firmly, and that had been the last they’d said for a good while.
He’d sat there, breathing in the warm air, gazing around without seeing anything – her steadfast presence at his side the only reason why he didn’t fall into pieces.
He felt on the verge to. As if he stood on the edge of insanity, everything come crashing down on him. There was never a day when he didn’t linger on his wretched past, but now the dam had broken.
For so long, he’d thought he could scrape by – overcome what had been done to him. And, bit by excruciating bit, he’d thought he was making it. He was getting well. Of course, it was a bumpy road, but he was getting there. He could never forget decades of abuse, but he could rest easily, knowing his tormentor was gone.
When the Death Seed had been wiped out of him and he’d realized everything he’d done while under its influence – especially to Zach – the ghost of Romulus had reappeared, leering like in Daken’s worst nightmares, the monster’s favorite motto engraved in Daken’s mind: quod sum eris, ‘I am what you will be’. He’d battled with it – with the panicked horror of thinking he’d almost turned into the monster – for so long. Hell, it was the reason why he’d almost let go just a few days prior.
But all that grief and all that pain had somehow been made a bit bearable by the fact that Romulus was gone, dead, taken care of. And suddenly discovering that he wasn’t, that he still breathed, that he still lived, with just thin walls, even if thousands of miles away, between them – it made it all pointless. All his efforts, all his frail certainties – gone like they never existed, like he was a fool to even think it could ever be enough.
And Logan, God, Logan – going around like it was nothing, lying to him by omission, making him think he was safe, when instead there was no place on Earth where he could run… Logan, who thought everything was fine, who suspected their relationship though he couldn’t imagine the horrifying depths of it – he’d thought that simply carting Romulus off was enough. He that had killed his own tormentors for surely far less, had thought that a prison would be punishment enough for his son’s tormentor.
But the fact was that he couldn’t know. Daken had never told him anything. And this sliver of rationality – telling him he couldn’t hate Logan for not acting on something he didn’t even know – was driving him mad.
Because hating Logan would be oh so easier. How life had been simpler when Logan was the boogeyman, the reason for everything wrong in Daken’s life, the target of his rage! But Logan had just omitted to tell him that Romulus was alive. Hardly unforgivable, right?
He’d found himself laughing hysterically. Laura had held him through it, and, true to her word, she hadn’t asked him anything, not even when his laughter had turned into sobs, his fingers digging into her arms.
But when even those had died down, Daken had talked. He felt clear-headed – lucid. He’d told her everything – his nighttime walk with Logan. His attempt to be civil. The truth choking him, a large clawed hand around his throat, his little feet kicking only air, knowing there was no escape –
She knew nothing about Logan’s lies, he smelt it on her. Not that he’d entertained any doubts; she’d have told him.
She squeezed his hand. “How are you feeling?” she murmured.
“Stupid.” He grimaced. She cocked her head, giving him time to elaborate. “Stupid I could trust a word Logan said. Stupid I could think we might mend even a bit of what was broken. Stupid I could think I was safe -” his voice cracked.
“You are safe,” she said fiercely. “You aren’t alone anymore. We’ll take care of you.”
“We?” He shook his head. There was no ‘we’, not when Romulus was involved. He couldn’t let her put herself in harm’s way.
“Your family,” Laura told him – the word made his chest ache, but it couldn’t do. “Me, and Gabby -”
“Laura, he’s dangerous -”
“He’s locked up. He can’t hurt you, not physically.” She placed a hand over his heart, as if she needed that to sense his frantic heartbeat. “It’s your mind he’s hurting, even now. Thinking of him harms you.” Her gaze was pensive, though she looked clearly at him. “You need help I know not how to give,” she murmured.
“Help?” From any other, her words would have made him rage. She had that same expression Logan had worn at the beginning, when he still thought that Daken was a poor unfortunate soul, before Daken did everything he could to make his life a living hell, to stop him from looking at Daken that accursed way. It wasn’t pity, not quite. It was mingled with the need to do something and the self-deprecating certainty that nothing would be enough. It used to drive him mad.
But Laura was his sister and he knew she had his best interest at heart. He knew she loved him. He knew he did need help, even though he still couldn’t say it out loud. And she’d helped him, more than once – always there for him, a steadfast presence at his side.
So he resolved to listen, because she was his sister and she knew him better than most.
She squeezed his hand. “Your mind’s scarred. He hurt you so much, and I can’t do anything about it. But Jean can.” He suppressed the protestations almost out of his lips; the notion of a telepath rummaging through his mind made him shudder, but he’d decided to let Laura speak. “She spoke of scars in your mind. Of traps. She wants to help you, Daken.”
He mulled that over. The woman had seemed earnest, and truthful. She was even keeping her distance, and that spoke of a respect he wouldn’t have expected.
But ‘help’ him? And do what? Disarm the traps in his mind, perhaps, and so leave him defenseless to any telepath seeking to control him, to any chemical that was created? And the wounds she spoke about – how could she possibly heal them?
And why would she knowingly walk into a minefield that had crippled her mentor? Why would she expose herself to such a risk? She must have sensed the strength of Romulus’ handiwork – a blend of mild telepathy and sheer trauma, beaten into Daken through years of careful work. Why would she willingly touch that?
“Her younger counterpart,” Laura added softly, filling his silence, “helped me a lot.” Yes, he knew that; teen Jean had relieved Laura of the compulsion of the trigger scent. He still berated himself for not being able to be there for his sister when she’d battled that demon Kimura, her sadistic ex-handler. “If she could do it, if she could help me find myself – imagine what her adult self can do. She has a practiced hold on her powers, Daken. She’s the best you could have.”
He wouldn’t be so sure. He’d sensed how strong she was, but she hadn’t truly delved into his mind. “That’s dangerous, what you’re talking about. It might endanger the both of us. I don’t think she’d agree to it, Laura.”
“She’s the one who wants to try,” Laura murmured, taking him by surprise. “She’s waiting for you to feel better before she asks you, but I can’t see you like this. I had to tell you this is an option.”
“But why?” He shook his head. The challenge, perhaps? No, she didn’t strike him as that kind of person. A sudden thought made him seethe: “Did Logan put her up to this?”
“No, Daken.” Laura squeezed his hand – she looked sad. “She despises what was done to you.” He recoiled, wondering what did the woman know – she’d said she wouldn’t pry, but he had no way of knowing if that was true. Of course, she hadn’t triggered anything off, but if she was so strong, perhaps she could travel his mind, unnoticed. “We saw something, when we helped you come back. There was a – a darkness, all around your mind,” Laura continued, unable to mask a shudder. “A void -”
He shuddered too, cold and uncomfortable – tried to channel some anger, to deflect his own thoughts. He wasn’t angry with Laura – he could never be – but with the woman, for daring to lie to him. She’d said she wouldn’t pry – how stupid of him to trust her words. “And so she went and took a look.”
“No, Daken.” Laura caught his other hand too, joined them between her own. He let her. “She didn’t – that which we saw was just on the surface. Is it so hard to believe that someone would rage at knowing you were raised by a madman to be a weapon?”
That was all Grey knew, then. Something she could easily have heard from Logan. She must have also picked on other things in the library where he’d dragged himself to die, but perhaps she was keeping her counsel. Perhaps she was trustworthy.
And, too, she was an idealist. A compassionate leader, seeking to right every wrong. He was, perhaps, to be her pet project. “She thinks she can wave her hands and make me better? And you think that would work, Laura?” he asked, genuinely curious. Laura had never been this foolish. She was pragmatic; precise. “You didn’t get better just because little Jean stayed in your mind for a bit. All she did was ridding you of that wretched thing -”
Her eyes flashed. “It helped me, knowing that I wasn’t to be a slave of the trigger scent anymore. If you think that was a small thing -”
“No, of course not,” he agreed, his chest aching at realizing he’d just hurt her. He hadn’t meant to. “But that’s just the thing, Laura. It gave you peace of mind, yes, but you were already there, weren’t you? Kimura’s return was a nightmare for you precisely because you were fine. You always were stronger, Laura. And I -” He lowered his head, words failing him. He’d thought he was strong, but he’d never been. The independence he’d always so loudly declared was a sham. He just kept drifting, faking everything. He’d had to, to survive, but deep down, he’d always known it was a lie. And when he’d thought he’d escaped Romulus’ shadow, he’d just kept faking it. Because he had no idea how to function, not really. And the discovery of Romulus’ continued existence just confirmed this truth.
“It took me a lot of time to get there, Daken,” Laura murmured. “I know how hard it can be. And I truly think that Jean can help you. That’s for you to decide. But one thing, one thing I want you to know.” She brought a hand to his face, tilted his head up. Her gaze was kind and firm and understanding and it shattered him to his core. “You are strong. You’re the strongest person I know. You’re a survivor.”
“Laura,” he croaked. She was speaking nonsense. He was nothing of the sort; he was just a fool.
“You keep fighting back,” she said fiercely. “He didn’t hold you down, Daken. You didn’t let him. You aren’t letting him, and you’re strong for this. Please tell me you understand it.” There were lines on her face – she was breathing as if holding back tears. And he hated that. He didn’t want her to suffer for his sake.
“I do,” he lied. The corner of her mouth turned downwards.
“You don’t,” she murmured, squinting her eyes. “But you will, one day. I promise you that. I’ll do everything to make you see that.”
It was a pointless endeavor, but he loved her too much to squash her hopes like this. She was trying, bless her; she cared about him so much.
It still struck him, sometimes.
He smiled, tasting tears on his lips. “Thank you, Laura.”
She shook her head. “No, thank you.”
He cocked an eyebrow. “For what? Crying all over you?”
She squeezed his hand. “For trusting me. I know how difficult this is.”
“Of course I trust you.” It rolled so easily off his lips. Had he truly never told her before?
She grimaced a smile. “For trusting the X-Men, then. For not running away after tonight. I know it took a lot.” Her gaze softened. “I’m proud of you.”
He felt warm all over. He hadn’t battled with his decision to stay – he still had things to do here, and ties too – but her support touched him. “You’re just glad I didn’t stab Logan,” he smirked, attempting to defuse the moment. He could fake it, for her sake. Reward her unwavering trust with some hope. He wasn’t fine and he’d never be, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t at least appease her in this small way. Show her he could still bite, somewhat.
A shadow passed over her face. “I’d have given you a pass for that.”
And that, despite everything – despite the darkness chasing him, the desperation seeping through – made him laugh. Just a short, cracked sound, maybe veering too much towards a sob… but he laughed.
No, he wouldn’t actually do it. Logan simply wasn’t worth it. He had worse things to worry about than a disrespectful father. But this confirmation that she’d be with him through thick and thin – although he should really know it by now – shook him to his core.
God, he loved his sister.
Notes:
Next: A surprise visit.
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[I know I’ve been mentioning the siblings’ heart-to-hearts for a while now, but I’d never gotten to write one out as it happens. I’m glad I finally managed to.
I hope you enjoyed the chapter! Let me know what you think, your comments make my day ^-^ ]
Chapter 21: A surprise visit.
Chapter Text
21.
They’d just come in sight of the entrance when Jean contacted her.
Laura had somehow managed to mask her worry, letting Daken pretend he felt better. There was no use pushing him now; she didn’t want to estrange him, and she knew very well these things took time. It was enough that she’d planted the seed, so that he wouldn’t chase Jean away at her first try.
She truly thought that the woman could help.
He was gaunt. Perhaps he didn’t notice, or he didn’t care, but he couldn’t hide his pain as well as he thought he was. She was accustomed to his black moods – she’d witnessed them more than once, attempted to nurse him back to health only to see him swipe it all under a carpet every time – but this time it was worse. The news had hit him hard. Perhaps he thought he was fooling her now, walking beside her on the path, his hands thrust in his pockets, bravado in his steps, sneering at the students gaping at him… but there were lines on his face that he couldn’t hide. Dark bags under his eyes, that were so terribly bright. He almost looked as if he were running a fever, but he was at peak health.
Physically.
Mentally, he was struggling, and her heart ached so. It hurt, to know he was hurting; to know she couldn’t relieve him, not like he needed to. Oh, she could listen, and that would help him momentarily – but his wounds run far deeper than what some conversations on a bench could heal. She knew the value of friends, of knowing someone was there – but that wouldn’t be enough. She feared the moment he’d break. She feared she couldn’t be there for him when it happened.
So, when Jean said her name in Laura’s mind, Laura flung herself at the telepath.
Help him, she begged. Jean held her gently.
I’ll do that, she assured Laura. But it will take time. Laura heard a kind reproach in the woman’s words.
She wouldn’t apologize for cutting in Jean’s cautious approach. You’re wasting time. Precious time. Don’t you see him? She hastily opened up her mind, so that Jean would experience what Laura was experiencing, see and smell what she sensed.
Jean seemed to recoil. Yes, I see. But I’m not wasting time, Laura. This, too, is part of the process.
But he’s suffering! If she saw Logan now, she thought she might hit him. Daken had been trying. Really, truly trying. And Logan had gone and unraveled it all with his carelessness. You witnessed their conversation, didn’t you? Why didn’t you intervene? Why didn’t you wake me up?
Daken wouldn’t have liked that , Jean said calmly. I can’t establish trust if I interfere like that, Laura. I was on high alert – we all were – ready to intervene if he did something drastic. But he also needed to know we can keep our distance.
… In the interest of your therapy, Laura guessed. She saw it now: by ‘keeping her distance’, Jean was showing Daken that she was trustworthy. It would help to convince him she was serious about her proposal.
Exactly. Jean sighed. I promise, Laura – I want to help him, and I will.
All right, Laura capitulated. She sensed honesty in Jean’s voice, and genuine worry. The woman knew what she was doing; Laura should trust her on this. But please, don’t wait too long.
I won’t, Jean reassured her. Then she continued: Now listen, please.
Laura did. She listened attentively to what Jean told her, and when the woman was finished, Laura returned her attention to her surroundings. They’d stopped walking; Daken was peering at her, curiosity in his tired eyes.
“You were miles away,” he said quietly. She grimaced.
“Yes, sorry. It was Jean.” She hesitated.
He crunched up his nose. “She wants me already?”
“No.” She laid a hand on his arm to steer him towards another bench. “She told me that Hank wants to see you in his laboratory – please, sit.”
“All right.” He indulged her, worry now visible on his features. “Is this about my powers? Has he reached a conclusion?” His fingers twitched with nervousness.
“No, and so he asked for a consultation. Reed Richards’ here. They’ll examine you.” She paused, wondering how to broach the subject. He was susceptible to it; always so terribly testy at the mere mention. The timing, too, wasn’t ideal.
“Richards himself?” Daken made a face. “Well, he did treat me. I guess that’s why McCoy contacted him?” Laura nodded, looking for clues in his expression; waiting to see if it came to his mind on its own – if he showed any uneasiness. Sure enough, a shadow passed over his face. “You’re keeping me here because of my bombing?” he said casually, waving off what he must have thought. “Grey sensed some aversion to me in Richards’ mind? It was years ago.” There it was, again: a faint grimace, a twitch of pain she’d seen numerous times. Laura sighed and joined her hands in front of her. This wouldn’t be easy.
“No. Richards came with company. Johnny Sto-” she trailed off at seeing how fast Daken’s expression closed… but not so fast to mask the flash of regret in his eyes. She knew that reaction; she’d witnessed it enough times. “From what Jean could glean, he invited himself as soon as he heard why Richards was coming here,” she said crisply, giving him the facts. Daken was slowly lowering his head, averting his gaze from her. “She didn’t sense any animosity; if anything, Storm’s here in support. He’s worried about you.” Daken shut his eyes. “You’re strained enough,” she said just as matter-of-factly, so that he’d know where she stood on this. “I’ll remove him, if you need that.”
She didn’t have the specifics. She didn’t know what, exactly, had happened between her brother and Johnny Storm. But she could venture a guess. She knew her brother, how self-destructive he could be. She knew the Baxter Building had never made sense from a strategic viewpoint, when he’d bombed half of New York as his swan song.
She knew he cherished a shirt with the Fantastic Four logo, and he wore it when he felt particularly morose.
And she knew that the mere mention of Johnny Storm was enough to depress him even when he truly felt better.
Given his current state of mind, Storm’s presence couldn’t possibly be of help. But he had to decide that. Jean had been right to warn Laura – she didn’t know anything from Daken’s side, but she’d seen enough in Storm’s mind to make the right decision.
Daken still hadn’t answered. Laura crouched in front of him, reached out to clasp his hand. He let her. His skin was still clammy, like earlier, and there was a crease in his forehead. “Whatever you need,” she said softly. “Do you want me to make him leave?”
He began to nod, then he shook his head, his breath a little labored. “… I haven’t seen him in years,” he finally whispered, something broken at the edge of his voice. She squeezed his hand.
“I’ll tell Jean -”
“No.” It came abruptly, seemed to take even him off-guard as he jumped at the sound of his own voice. He opened his eyes, alight with a feverish gaze. “I want to. To see him.”
She grimaced. “Are you sure?” He sounded like he was trying to convince himself. She didn’t like it; she didn’t want him to put himself under even more strain.
“Yes.” He went to his feet, dragging her up with newfound strength. “Come on, lead the way.”
She still wasn’t sure, but she knew that expression. He wouldn’t take no for an answer.
He walked quickly, to the point where to an outsider it would seem it was him leading her somewhere. He was a man with a mission, and she didn’t quite know what kind of mission. He’d perked up, just a bit; at some point he reached up, tried to smooth the hair that he still hadn’t managed to shave into a mohawk, and hastily pulled it up into a messy bun.
The eagerness didn’t fool her. He was masking his pain with this; focusing on something else, on what she knew was a sore subject, to avoid his nightmares. He was as pale as moments before, his perspiration just as erratic. But he was attempting to coat himself with a layer of normalcy and she found that she couldn’t tear it away from him. He was deflecting, pure and simple, but it was his right.
When they reached Hank’s door, though, he paused. There was doubt in his movements, in the way his gaze shifted almost uncomfortably. She reached out to clasp his hand. “Are you sure?” she said gently. She could still send Storm away, if Daken asked her.
He bit his lower lip, lightly, straightened up, and pushed the door open. “Where do you want me, Drs McCoy and Richards?” he said genially, any trace of unease gone from his voice.
What a consummate actor her brother was. Grimacing, Laura followed him into the room.
“Oh dear.” Hank stood closer to them, half-turned from a hologram he was showing Richards. His gaze trailed over Daken – his expert mind cataloging everything that Daken was trying to hide. One couldn’t fool Hank, not on the matter of their health. “Are you -”
“Peachy, thank you.” Daken cut him off. “Where do you want me?” he repeated. He was looking straight at the pair; he didn’t react to the soft gasp coming from his left, not in a way that the owner of the voice would have noticed. But Laura saw his full-bodied flinch as Storm disentangled his crossed arms and jumped from the stool he was perched atop, taking a few hesitant steps in Daken’s direction, a hand held up pleadingly – worry visible on the man’s features. Storm opened his mouth, but Daken spoke over him, a quiver barely audible in his voice. “Richards! How was space?”
Storm closed his mouth and stilled, his eyes sad.
Richards cocked his head, his gaze hard to read. He was studying Daken, but Laura didn’t know what he saw. An enemy? The man who’d blown his home up? The man who was causing his brother-in-law to look so wretched? Or a scientific challenge? The bombing had been years ago, after all; and Richards had lived through terrible things ever since, dead to the world for long months until he returned with his wife. “Eventful,” he said eventually. He motioned towards a metal bed. “We’ll start here, if you will -?”
“Certainly.” Daken was on it in an instant, shedding his clothes after a pause she was sure she was the only one to notice. To an untrained eye, he was completely focused on the two men at his side, but his eyes shifted ever so slightly every now and then.
She took a few steps towards them, deciding to ignore Storm for now. The man still hadn’t moved, his own brother-in-law sparing him no more than a glance. “What are you going to do?” she asked.
“We’ll check him thoroughly,” Richards said, moving around her brother with a sharp focus, a million instruments in his hands. “I brought my things. I want to make some scans, and do a few tests, check his chemical and hormonal balance -” His words turned into an unintelligible mumble as he moved swiftly.
“I take it we’ll be here for a while?” Daken spoke up, raising an arm to let Hank wrap a band around it. When Hank nodded, her brother turned towards her. “You don’t need to stay, Laura. I’ll be fine.” That statement elicited a delicate cough from Hank.
“You’ll feel weakened,” he said gently, omitting that Daken looked already worse for wear. “You’ll need an escort to your room -”
“My sister isn’t my keeper,” Daken said. Richards furrowed his brow at that, and seemed ready for a lecture, but Daken hadn’t meant to say it in any derogative way.
“I don’t mind,” she said softly. She couldn’t leave him; he needed her.
“I’m sure Jubilee will mind,” he retorted. “You can’t ignore her for me, Laura. I won’t be the reason why your relationship ends.” Richards hummed and bit down whatever he’d been about to say, his lean fingers dancing on a tablet now.
Laura reached the trio. “She knows how important you are to me, Daken,” she murmured. He looked away, almost embarrassed. “She doesn’t mind.”
She really didn’t. Jubilee understood, most of all, that sometimes one’s time isn’t one’s own. She had been nothing but understanding about Laura’s continuous visits to Daken; the previous night, a moment they’d carefully managed to carve for themselves, had turned into a manifestation of worry on Laura’s part, and Jubilee had been fantastic, holding her and brushing her hair and placing soft, warm kisses atop her head. She hadn’t lamented Laura’s rather single-minded focus on her brother, that was preventing them from enjoying each other’s company; she’d just held her.
The memory of leaving Jubilee still sleeping soundly that morning ashamed Laura a bit. But Jubilee understood.
“You don’t smell so convinced yourself,” Daken said gently. “Really, Laura, it’s all right. You can go,” he nudged her with a knee.
“Stay still, please,” Richards all but snapped. Daken rolled his eyes.
“Yes, doctor.” Then he looked up at her. “This will be tedious, and you can use the time. You ditched her to come to my aid, didn’t you?” He nodded sagely as she grimaced despite herself. “Go. You already did a lot for me.” His features softened.
She didn’t think she’d done much. She’d held him, and listened, and comforted him, but it wasn’t enough. It couldn’t be.
And he was being prodded and examined. That could bring back upsetting things, fragments of his imprisonment perhaps, or even worse. She couldn’t leave him alone to face it.
Well, he wasn’t alone. But Hank and Richards would be too focused on the puzzle to pay attention, and Storm –
She had no idea what he was doing here. He still hadn’t said a word; he hovered nervously nearby, exuding worry and concern, but it was like there was a wall between him and Daken – her brother studiously avoided looking at him, but she was sure he was well aware of every little movement of the man.
Perhaps Daken wanted her gone to properly face him. She was his little sister and he clearly had history with Storm; perhaps he even feared some retribution, despite her telling him what Jean had sensed in Storm’s mind, and he didn’t want her there – perhaps thinking he’d deserve it.
She pursed her lips. If he left him to it, he would probably seek out punishment, perhaps by goading Storm. She couldn’t let him hurt himself.
She squeezed his hand. “I’ll stay for a little while yet,” she said softly.
He sighed and nodded, his eyes shifting, for a moment, towards Storm – he knew what had prompted her decision. He knew she understood him. And that she’d be there for him.
He squeezed her hand in return, laid back his head, and let the doctors work.
Notes:
Next: Logan talks with Betsy.
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[I feel compelled to warn that not only do I ship Daken and Johnny Storm – they’re also an OTP of mine. So expect their previous relationship to be analyzed ^^” but I’m leaving some mystery as to whether it will be rekindled :P
I hope you enjoyed the chapter! Let me know what you think, your comments make my day ^-^ ]
Chapter 22: Logan talks with Betsy.
Chapter Text
22.
“So, why didn’t you tell him?”
Logan didn’t look up. He was attempting meditation on the rooftop and he’d just barely managed to send away ’Ro and Kurt. They kept telling him he was handling this wrong, bless them. Perhaps they were right. No, scratch that; most assuredly, they were.
But he couldn’t stop picturing Daken’s face the previous night – his terror, his pain. The wreck in his voice. And he knew, without a doubt, that he’d fucked up.
Warmth beside him. Betsy hadn’t taken his silence for an answer, and she was sitting cross-legged less than a foot away from him. He ignored her, but she was nothing but stubborn.
“I’m not asking why you didn’t tell him Romulus was alive. From what I gathered, you had.” She must have been talking with ’Ro. Logan was torn between exasperation and fond gratitude. “I’m asking why you didn’t defend yourself tonight. Why you let him leave with that assumption.”
‘Assumption’ - it was anything but. Daken must misremember. He hadn’t been playing some game… Logan had heard it in his voice. He was convinced that what he was saying was true. Convinced that Logan had told him a lie.
He’d gone on for years, convinced that the monster was gone, and then he’d suddenly found out that it wasn’t true. The raw emotion in his voice – the sheer terror – hadn’t been a ruse, and had clenched hard Logan’s heart. And that other accusation that Daken had half-flung at him before hastily cutting off… that had made Logan’s hair stand on end.
Logan had never stopped to think how the events of that day had affected Daken. He’d trapped Romulus, disposed of the perceived threat Daken posed, and then gone about his day, focused on his own self-loathing. He’d just left Daken in a motel to heal from the wounds Logan himself had inflicted, as the sight of his feverish son hurt him terribly. He hadn’t even stuck around enough to make sure Daken did heal.
Betsy sighed. “Why do you feel the need to self-sabotage, Logan?”
He wasn’t self-sabotaging. He’d fucked up, for God’s sake. “Kid’s got a right to be angry,” he ground out, hoping to shut her up.
Vain hope. She took it as encouragement. “Why don’t you tell me what happened? In your own words.”
That felt extremely condescending. But he supposed he deserved it. “You know what happened.” Even if she hadn’t been there to witness their fight the previous night, ’Ro must have told her. As she must have told her what Logan had recounted when he’d come back to their room, shaken by the meeting.
“You know, I really don’t,” Betsy said primly. “Indulge me. Maybe talking out loud will help you see things differently.”
Well, he wouldn’t manage to meditate today: she was on the warpath. He turned towards her; she wasn’t looking at him, she was just gazing serenely at the view, her mauve hair flowing in the wind. She looked more relaxed than the first time he’d seen her back in this body; there was a softness to her features, and Jean’s scent lingered by her.
“What are you doing here?” he asked her.
She cocked her head. “I’m trying to help a friend, Logan.”
He shrugged. “Think Jean might have rubbed off on you, with her idea that I need therapy.”
She flushed, sensing that he’d smelt Jean on her. Good for them. Not what he’d ever imagined would happen, but good for them. He was especially glad that Jeannie wasn’t stuck on mourning Slim. “We can make this conversation what you want it to be, Logan,” Betsy said curtly. “I’m not trying to force anything on you.”
He had to bark a laughter at that. “You just came here to molest me while I was trying to meditate.”
“Believe me, it wasn’t working.” She tapped two fingers against her temple.
Yes, she would know. Logan sighed heavily and turned to face her fully. “You want to know what happened.”
She nodded.
“Tonight? Or that day?” He felt his stomach churn at the memory, at Daken’s recollection of it.
“What you’re comfortable talking about, Logan,” Betsy said softly. Strong words, for one who’d just bullied him into complying.
But perhaps he could tell her. Betsy seemed to have an understanding of her son, a newfound sort of respect; and she’d never shied away from criticizing Logan before. Nor had his partners, ever – neither ’Ro nor Kurt had even minced their words when they thought Logan was in the wrong – but somehow, their support now struck him as too kind and not enough objective. Betsy, on the other hand, shared no love and intimacy with Logan, and her words would ring differently.
He rubbed at his neck. “I got it all wrong,” he began. Betsy let him talk, the uttermost concentration on her features. “I thought he wanted to take Romulus’ place, become a shadow at the top of a criminal empire. There was that, too, of course, but I stopped at the surface. I let his mask tell me the lies he wanted to tell me, and he was only trying to protect himself after he reached out and never got nothing. I only saw a threat, Betsy. It was my boy and I only ever saw a threat.” He hung his head. “I hid Romulus and told him he was gone. That he’d never take his place. But I had to make sure he wouldn’t try anything. He had these weapons embedded in him, weapons that could kill Romulus. And I -”
He felt bile rush up his throat as Daken’s words from the previous night echoed in his ears, sick and violent and repulsed. Logan had recoiled so hard at hearing them – at understanding that, for a moment, Daken had conflated him with Romulus.
‘Do you have any idea how I felt, lying there, taking your punishment?’
When Logan had declawed him, his son had just let him. He was greatly weakened by their fight, by the wound in his chest. He was looking away with unfocused eyes as Logan carefully carved his forearms and extracted his wrist claws, and Logan had pretended not to see the tears rolling down his son’s face. He’d thought he was doing the right thing, and seeing his son like that had been a punch to the guts, and it was easier to ignore it. It was easier to just go about doing the deed and leave. It was easier to think his son’s meek demeanor was a morose admission of defeat.
And instead – instead. Daken hadn’t seen his father, in that moment. He’d just seen another master, bestowing a punishment upon him for daring to act out. For daring to rebel against the monster who’d made his life a living hell.
No wonder Daken’s hate for him had fortified, after that. No wonder he’d sought out more power even more desperately.
In Daken’s mind, addled by his injuries, Logan had killed Romulus. He’d established himself as stronger than Daken, as his superior, to be obeyed and feared; and he’d taken vengeance from Daken’s hands. He’d rid him of the catharsis of killing his tormentor of long bloody years. That, too, Logan had done out of love, knowing well how revenge poisons one’s life. He’d thought he was doing the right thing. God damn him, he’d really thought he had it all figured out.
What a fool.
Fate had given him a chance to right that wrong, some time later. When Romulus had escaped the Darkforce dimension, Logan hadn’t even thought about warning Daken, fearful the boy would jump at the opportunity to seize power. When he’d finally managed to trap Romulus and imprison him in an impenetrable fortress, though, that would have been a good time to tell his son. Tell him that Romulus was alive, but unreachable. Daken would have hated him for that, but at least he’d have known. Logan would have taken that gladly.
And he would, now. It was only what he deserved.
Betsy held up a hand. Up until now she’d listened quietly and intently, never showing what she thought of what he was saying, her features carefully neutral. Now, though, there was a crease in her brow.
“What?” he choked out. There was a raw lump in his throat.
Betsy sighed. “You aren’t Daken’s scapegoat anymore, Logan. You need to stop this. Neither of you deserves this.”
Her words made no sense. This wasn’t about scapegoats; he’d constantly failed his son, from the first day of his life. It was only right that he finally took some responsibility – too little, too late – for his actions.
“And you think that taking on his hate for something you didn’t do is going to heal your wounds?” Betsy shook her head. “Logan, that’s not right to him, nor to you. You can’t go around lauding it all on your shoulders, and he deserves to hear the truth and decide accordingly.” She saw he was about to speak – how could he not take this upon his shoulders? He knew he’d fucked up – and cut him off. “I understand. Tonight you understood that that day you hurt him horribly, and so you want to atone. But you won’t be doing that by taking his ire for something else, something that wasn’t.”
He scoffed. “What should I do, Betsy? The boy doesn’t want to talk with me anymore, and he has a right to that.”
“You could stop referring to him as ‘boy’, for starters.” She raised an eyebrow. “Your son’s a man, Logan.”
“I know that.”
“Do you?” She sighed. “At least you don’t call him that to his face. But you need to stop thinking about him as the little kid you failed. He’s a grown man -”
“I know that -” he repeated, quietly.
“- and you can’t play this game where you decide what to answer for, even if to answer for.”
That wasn’t what he was doing. Was it? Logan looked away. He was taking responsibility for his actions. He was finally answering for what he’d done -
No. He was deciding everything, like always. She was right; he was doing everything by himself, and he wasn’t allowing Daken to have any say in it.
He turned towards her again. She was watching on, her head cocked to the side. “What should I do?” he asked again.
She sighed. “Talk, Logan. Explain. Apologize. Let him decide how to deal with this, with you. You’re right that you shouldn’t go looking for him right now. It’s too fresh. But you need to, Logan. For you, too.”
He averted his gaze. It seemed so obvious, when she said it like that, yet it was so monumentally difficult. Impossible. Daken would never want to talk, not after tonight. He was angry and, well… he had every right to be.
“Logan.” Betsy sighed again, heavily. He looked up; she was worrying her lower lip. “Do you know what we saw, tonight?”
Her wording alarmed him. “We? All three of you were keeping an eye on him?”
“Just me and Jean. Only her at first, but he was upset.” She grimaced.
Logan had upset Daken so much that Jean had needed backup to keep an eye on him.
“Logan,” Betsy said sharply. “Listen to me, for crying out loud. Do you know what we saw?”
He shook his head. Something terrible, no doubt. Daken’s features were distorted, deformed. He was terrified – and angry.
“We saw a man stuck in the past,” she said softly. “Unable to let go, to read what was happening. Stuck on a loop, ready to repeat past mistakes.”
Logan took a shaky breath. His poor son. Yes, they’d almost gone to blows, or worse. Logan would have gladly let Daken maul him, if that would suffice to quell his obvious pain.
“It hurt us, to see you like that,” Betsy said softly. He started, taken aback. Him? She was talking about Logan?
But wasn’t she right? He’d felt like he was walking on eggshells ever since he’d come back. He was, quite literally, stuck in the past. He read situations with knowledge that was a few years old, he still struggled to read his children’s dynamics.
And, confronted with Daken’s rage, he was giving up again. Setting up their relationship for failure, acting like he had all the cards in his hand and it was his right only to deliver them.
“Logan.” She reached out, caught his hand. “He didn’t hit you.”
“What?” he looked up at her, confused. Daken had lashed out more than once. He hadn’t struck true, but Logan had thought that had to do with the telepaths.
“Oh, he wanted to. At first.” Betsy squeezed his hand. “But Logan, he didn’t. He took all that pain, all that rage, and decided to focus it elsewhere. He decided it wasn’t worth it.”
He’d decided that Logan wasn’t worth anything. Nothing wrong with that reasoning, in Logan’s opinion. But Betsy’s wording implied something else. “And you think that’s a good thing?” He grimaced.
“Absolutely.” Betsy cocked her head. “Would the man you knew, the son you left behind, have done that? Would he have stayed his hand, if angry with you?”
No. There wasn’t even the need to think about it: he knew the answer. He’d lived it, more than once. Every single one of their interactions had been a poker game, tinged with the threat of violence and, ultimately, leading up to it.
Logan shook his head.
“He’s grown, Logan,” Betsy said softly. “He’s trying so hard. You can believe me if I say that I was on high alert from the moment we retrieved him, ready to strike. But this isn’t the man we met that day.” The day Logan had killed him. Logan shuddered at recalling that moment, the wet sounds – his son’s struggling body. Betsy squeezed his hand again. “I think even he didn’t know who he was, that day. He’s building himself up, Logan, and you need to respect him enough to face him. Face the man he’s becoming. He might yet surprise you.”
It was true that their brief conversation – before Logan ruined everything – had tasted differently. Daken had seemed to be truly trying to engage; at some point he’d even seemed to imply he was welcoming Logan into the family he was building with his sisters.
Perhaps Betsy was right. Perhaps there was still time, perhaps not everything was lost. He should give his son the respect he deserved and talk to him without hiding behind what he thought was best. Reach a compromise.
Not immediately. Daken had told him to never talk to him again, and Logan couldn’t very well ignore that simple request – not so soon, with the pain of shock and betrayal still so raw. That would be disrespectful indeed.
But soon.
Betsy read his resolution on his face, or, perhaps, in his very mind. She smiled encouragingly, and patted his knee.
They stayed seated for a while, the dusk playing on their features. It was peaceful. He felt resolved, focused. He could still fix it – fix something at least. It wasn’t too late.
“I have to warn you,” she said then. “Things are going to get very hectic soon. For you. And I want you to know that we’re going to be here, Logan. To help. If you feel overwhelmed.”
He was startled into a laughter, although it was a bit nervous. “That’s not ominous at all, Betsy.” He did appreciate the sentiment, it was just – that it was still so difficult, sometimes. He’d been alone for too long a part of his life, his time with the X-Men so short in comparison. But he was learning. God help him, he was.
“Nothing terrible, nor unsolvable.” Betsy hummed softly. “But the clan’s going to get larger, Logan.”
His heart skipped a beat. There was still an absence, these days, one he’d only known recently. “You mean -”
“Yes.” Betsy cocked her head. “They found Jimmy. He’s coming home.”
Notes:
Next: Daken sets himself up.
.
[Yep, Logan’s digging his own grave, nothing new here. In other news, water’s wet.
Well, not really. He’s on the right path, I think, but it’s a long road. Not too long though, I promise. What do you think? Is he taking the wrong approach?]
Chapter 23: Daken sets himself up.
Notes:
No additional warnings this time. Recall the work tags, though.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
23.
The news came while they were prodding Daken.
He’d been right; it was a tedious, long affair. He’d thought McCoy had done all that could be done, but with Richards now in the picture, it seemed there wasn’t any limit to the number and type of procedures. Richards hadn’t needed to be this thorough the last time he’d treated Daken; but then he knew, more or less, what to look for, since Daken had told him.
Daken still recalled his words then, biting and sardonic, for Richards had told him he was dying and he had nothing to lose anymore; and then the bile rushing up his mouth as Johnny came into the room, the flutter in his chest, the sheer joy at seeing Johnny alive – and the terror, his walls coming up as he pushed Johnny away…
Johnny, hovering nearby now, after so many years had passed, drawn to Daken’s bedside like a moth. Daken had hoped time had taken care of that wretched hold, but it was almost as if mere moments had passed from his insults and Johnny was here, for him, for Daken, worried and one step away from fussing, when Daken had done nothing but using him all along, for all that time. Johnny was here, and Daken was breathing a little easier even though he knew this couldn’t do. He knew his shortcomings and he knew that Johnny didn’t deserve any of this, didn’t deserve to be ruined by Daken’s affections. But he was here, come in quiet support even after everything Daken had done, and it shouldn’t make Daken feel like this – flooded with such stark relief – but it did.
His thoughts drifted in this manner for the whole duration of the doctors’ checkup. He wasn’t truly paying attention to them, just let them move him and manhandle him, barely aware enough to follow their instructions. It was easier to do so, than to force himself to pay attention to his surroundings and thus meet Johnny’s eyes, exchange words with him. He was painfully, acutely aware of where Johnny stood, of the familiar cadence of his breathing, of his scent; but he couldn’t bring himself to face him.
Laura stood nearby, too. Bless her, she was staying for his sake, because she knew he was liable to make a fool of himself. He hated that she’d ignore her partner for him, but he couldn’t deny that her presence rooted him to the ground, helped him control himself. There were barbed, terrible things already on the tip of his tongue: it would be so easy to say them – to hurt Johnny, to drive him away, to protect him from Daken. But he couldn’t. He didn’t want to hurt Johnny. God help him, he’d never wanted to.
But he had to push Johnny away. He was damaged goods, wrecked by the newfound realization that he’d always be, despite his most recent foolish ideas; but he was proud to say that he’d grown enough to know that this time, he could let Johnny down gently. Johnny deserved nothing but kindness. He’d suffered so much, at Daken’s hands too: Daken had exploited that weakness ruthlessly, slithering under the skin of the most impressionable member of the Fantastic Four with practiced ease. And oh, God, how he hated himself for it. Johnny was light, and warmth, and he hadn’t deserved the grief Daken had caused him.
He was wondering how best to address the matter when an obnoxious, cheerful ringtone came from the bundle of his clothes. He hadn’t bothered to change it after Jubilee had given him her phone; he’d never admit it, but it was a welcome diversion from the monotony of the med bay.
It could only be Lorna, updating him on the search for Jimmy. Daken tilted his head and spoke past the bodies that surrounded him. “Laura, could you read the message, please?”
His sister went to the stool where he’d left his clothes and took the pink monstrosity out of his right pocket. Daken ignored – to the best of his abilities – Johnny’s surprised intake and focused on Laura’s breathing as she skimmed the message.
She was good – oh, she’d had to become so, just as him – but the rhythm was just a little too off to be natural. Some news, then; not the usual nothing. Despite himself, some tendrils of alarm began to take a hold of him, and twin frantic beeps came out of the machine attached to him.
“Try to relax, please,” McCoy said softly. Daken brushed it off.
“Shut up, doctor. Laura? What is it?” Damn it, but his voice shook. He didn’t want to face the thought of Jimmy in the hands of those Soteira bastards; not even the thought that his brother was well protected by the aggressive alien slime was enough to dispel the worry. The Poison was a force of nature, but Soteira might have resources enough to take on him.
His brother shouldn’t go through what Daken had gone through – what Laura, Gabby, even Logan had gone through. Why was his family so cursed? Not so many years ago, he mused, he’d have pinned the paramilitary’s fascination of them on Logan; he was of a mind of doing so now, out of mere spite, but that was a child’s take on the issue. Logan had never been the problem: he was an idiot, but he was just that.
“She found Jimmy,” Laura murmured. She’d come closer to Daken and she’d managed to catch his hand, which, he realized, she must have been squeezing for quite some time now. He hadn’t noticed. “He’s safe. In Alberta.” Oh, the irony. “She’s going to get him. We’re -” Laura sighed. “According to her, the X-Men are assembling a team to meet up with her; she’s asking if you want to join.”
Pryde hadn’t bothered to notify him. Drake hadn’t deigned to come look for him. So much for cooperation and guilty conscience. Enraged, Daken made to sit up, but was held down by two pair of hands.
“None of that,” Richards chided, as if talking to a child. McCoy was more delicate, though just as irritating.
“I, ah, advise against rash behavior, Daken. You aren’t in top form, and we’re in the middle of -”
“I’m sure you have enough material by now,” Daken cut him off. “Your checkup will have to be put on hold.”
“I’d have thought you would have wanted your pheromones back,” Richards scoffed. The way he said it made Daken uneasy; he’d used them back then, of course. On the whole family, but most of all on Johnny. Subtly, for he knew Richards was a genius and could notice something, but he’d still used them.
He couldn’t apologize for that. It was what he did, what he always did; just another part of him, like his looks and his intelligence. He’d learnt to depend on them. And how could he not? It was either learning to use them or constantly second-guessing himself.
At the same time, he felt an urgent need to apologize. Not to Richards – but to Johnny, standing a few feet from him, still and silent and there for him as if Daken had never pulled his strings.
Or was that why he was here now? To confront Daken on their usage? Was he wondering if everything that happened between them had been a lie?
Would that the answer could be simple.
Would that he’d never had that power.
Again, that thought. Like when he was a child, like the past few days. Daken bit his tongue.
“My brother’s more important,” he said, subdued. It tasted like a truth. It was, in that moment.
“Is he.” Richard’s tone changed, became softer. Of course it would; Daken still recalled his own impassioned speech to the man, about the ridiculousness of the institution called family. What a childish fool he’d been then. “Even if we were finished, Daken, you’re in no shape to fight.”
Daken was about to spit venom at that, but Laura squeezed his hand. “Daken, it’s true.”
From her, he could accept that. It was, perhaps, true; he certainly felt still weak. He was… perhaps the word was ‘exhausted’. He wouldn’t help on the battlefield; perhaps he’d even make matters worse, be a liability.
He sighed. “Who’s on this team?”
Laura seemed to deflate with relief. “Iceman, Rachel, Rogue.”
Grey’s blood and a nigh-all-powerful titan. Then there was Drake, who, despite whatever else Daken knew and thought about him, at least had been able to hold his own against Daken, and so should manage to face Jimmy too; and there was Lorna, of course, who could easily control the adamantium laced to Jimmy’s bones. It seemed a good team, but there was a glaring absence.
“And Logan?” he forced himself to say. There was no denying that their father could be of use against Jimmy, if he was still possessed. Surely Logan knew that. Or perhaps he was running away from this new son, too?
Laura bit her lower lip. “It seems it was decided to keep him here. He doesn’t know.” There was a frown of disagreement on her forehead, but she quickly smoothed it. It seemed she was still angered with him on Daken’s behalf. But Jimmy shouldn’t pay for Logan’s mistakes. Old Logan was out of the games – still battling the adamantium poisoning.
“Laura.” Daken waited until she met his gaze. She knew what he was going to tell her and she was already shaking her head, bent on taking care of him. “You need to join the team.”
“I need to stay here,” she said, stubborn as ever. “With you. You need me here.”
“I need you with Jimmy,” he countered. “I’m in good hands, Laura. He doesn’t have anyone. He needs you.” He knew he was, perhaps, playing on the guilt she’d shown a few days back, when she’d realized that Jimmy’s situation had completely slipped her mind. He wasn’t doing it consciously, but there was nothing to it now: he’d done it, and he only hoped she wouldn’t hate him for it.
She started, a bit, and cocked her head, piercing him with her gaze. “You both need me,” she said evenly. Damn it; he hadn’t wanted to hurt her.
He squeezed her hand, hoping to convey how frightfully sorry he was. It seemed that all he’d done today was to casually hurt her with careless words, when she’d been so good to him. “I’m safe, though,” he said softly. “He isn’t. Not until he’s out there. Please go, Laura. Don’t leave him to Drake’s incompetence.” And his angry bouts. If Drake dared to punch his brother too, Daken would end him.
His own hypocrisy wasn’t lost on Daken. He’d tried to kill Jimmy, after all, on Magneto’s orders. He’d had to do so: he knew darkness, and he knew that Jimmy couldn’t be allowed to live if he couldn’t control it. He still thought that letting Jimmy go had been a mistake: teen Jean had been too soft.
The best thing to do, for anyone involved, was to bring Jimmy here. The telepaths would help him with the alien, and he’d be safe from Soteira.
Laura sighed. “Daken -”
“I’ll take care of Daken.”
It was Johnny’s voice. Johnny had finally spoken, shattering the wall Daken had so carefully built, and it took the breath out of him.
Johnny’s voice was soft, and warm, and kind. It was everything Daken yearned, and yet he knew he couldn’t have. But his head moved on its own, as if drawn by the sun, and their eyes finally met. They were the bluest blue, Johnny’s eyes; and there was a quiet resolution in them that made Daken weak in the knees. At least he was already laying down, thank God for small mercies. Thank God he could still wrench his gaze away, ignore Johnny, pretend he didn’t exist – and yet he couldn’t, his body still, his breath a stutter – his heartbeat hammering both in his ears and in those of everyone in the room, made manifest by the contraption that monitored it.
He felt naked and exposed to the scrutiny of both strangers and of those who mattered the most. He hated that.
But he could seize the opportunity to let Johnny down. Let him help Daken to his room and then, as they were alone, tell him -
Tell him what? That there hadn’t been a day that went by without thinking about him, that Daken had followed his life from afar, never daring to approach him again? That he’d stood by as Johnny mourned the loss of his powers first, and then that of his family? That eventually the thought of him had grown so stark, so painful, that Daken did his best not to ever linger on him… on their endless chats over the phone, on his scent, on Johnny’s apparent death that had seemed to carve a hole in his chest and sent him spiraling out of control in Los Angeles – the snake ensnared by its prey? Oh, his last words to Johnny, replaying themselves over and over again, every syllable wrong, every word a lash against himself too:
‘Real people stay dead when they die, Johnny.’
Real people –
A hand squeezing his. “Daken?” Concern in the voice. His sister’s.
He’d zoned out. They’d been talking around him, Laura’s other hand was on his leg, the doctors weren’t crowding him anymore, and Johnny – Johnny, closer to him than earlier, a hand raised, was eyeing him worriedly. Stupid boy. How could he still look at Daken like that?
“Yes?” Daken forced himself to focus. He studiously ignored the clear pity in McCoy’ gaze, the shrewd interest in Richards’. He resolutely did not look at Johnny again.
Laura bit her lower lip. “Is that okay with you?” ‘Are you comfortable with this, with him?’ her eyes were asking, but she wouldn’t say that in front of Johnny. The worry – and guilt – for Jimmy were winning out, helped by her heroic nature and Daken’s nudge. But she was still worried about Daken, too.
“Yes,” he reassured her. “I’m sure Johnny -” his voice came out strangled. He hoped no one had noticed, but that was a vain hope. “I’ll be fine, Laura. Go.”
With a last, tortured glance at him and a protective glare that could have burned holes into Johnny’s head, she went.
“Well,” McCoy coughed delicately. “Do you feel up to continue -”
“Yes,” Daken said quickly. Anything, to stop thinking about Johnny, to avoid stealing glances at him now that his self-control had shattered. Anything.
The thought that he’d soon spend time alone with Johnny was, suddenly, torture. He found himself hoping that Laura came back before they finished, Jimmy in tow; and the next moment he desperately hoped for the opposite, craving being tended to by Johnny – aching for the warmth and closeness. Then he’d berate himself, knowing there was nothing he could do but firmly rejecting whatever Johnny had come to say, for the man’s sake.
It was too soon that both doctors stepped away from him and announced they were done, even though he knew hours must have passed; and Daken lay still, not knowing what to do, what to say. Laura wasn’t back yet and his fate was sealing itself, but Johnny, ever so tactful, stood a little to the side, unwilling to impose. It was McCoy who helped Daken sit, his furry hands firm against Daken’s chest and shoulder. Richards didn’t deign him of a further glance and moved to bend on the bounty they’d collected.
“How do you feel, Daken?” McCoy asked gently. The man just couldn’t be rough, could he?
“Like a train ran me over,” Daken quipped. It was just as well that none of them knew he had an actual frame of reference for that figure of speech.
McCoy nodded sagely. “Well, that’s to be expected. You’ll want to rest, now.”
It seemed he couldn’t escape. “Yes, you’d mentioned that.” Feeling his gaze move towards Johnny again, Daken hastily directed it to Richards, hard at work over the data. “How soon might I expect your results?”
“Oh, it’s difficult to say -”
“Sooner than you think,” Richards spoke over McCoy’s cautious words. He didn’t turn as he spoke. “I have a hunch already, but I need to confirm it.”
“You’ll be notified, of course.” McCoy moved to stand between them, his hands held up in a placating manner. “But the only thing you need to focus on right now is to get better. I’ll give you a tonic regimen, wait a second -” He disappeared between two shelves. With no other company but Richards’ mutterings as he confronted Daken’s data, Daken was left with no choice but to face Johnny again.
Johnny stood to the side, worry in his eyes. When he met Daken’s gaze he attempted a smile, though tinged with uncertainty: now that Laura was gone, his brave mask had slipped, and he was forced to confront the fact he’d volunteered to babysit the man who’d hurt him so much. And still he stood tall and proud, ready to take on the task.
He was beautiful. Breathtaking; he’d always been so. Always so maddeningly kind, clueless to the point of frustration and yet so attentive where it counted.
And, most importantly, Daken reminded himself as McCoy returned with a blister pack and a wheelchair, Johnny was – must be – unattainable.
That was how it should be. And that was how it would be.
Notes:
Next: Daken and Johnny reminisce the past.
.
[Don’t be like that, Daken.
Fun fact! When the Heat issues came out, I was just following the X-Men side of Marvel. Imagine my surprise, delight, general angst when I realized that Johnny was supposed to be dead at the time. Up until then, I’d simply thought that the Heat hallucinations showed Johnny because he was, you know, The One. But he was dead! Well, presumed dead. Delicious. I’d have loved a longer confrontation about it, but alas, the writer must have realized that would have sent Daken/Johnny shippers in a frenzy. Or perhaps editorial vetoed it. Well. That’s what fanfiction’s for, right? ;)
I rambled enough, forgive me. I just have many feelings about these two. What about you all? What did you think about this chapter? I love to hear your thoughts ^-^]
Chapter 24: Daken and Johnny reminisce the past.
Notes:
Additional Warnings: self-hatred, mentions of self-harm, implied past dubious consent.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
24.
Johnny was quiet.
The trip to the med bay was eerily quiet. Johnny still hadn’t said a word; not in McCoy’s lab, as he watched McCoy help Daken dress, and not as he was tasked by the two scientists to help Daken sit on the wheelchair, his arms strong and far too welcome around Daken’s waist. His breath had stuttered then, just as Daken’s, but he hadn’t said anything.
The only one doing the talking was Daken, guiding him through the corridors with terse directions. Daken was acutely aware of Johnny’s presence behind him: his warmth, his breathing, his heartbeat. He found himself furiously wishing it had been his hypersenses to vanish instead of the pheromones, so that he couldn’t smell so starkly the man’s unique scent – embers and, inexplicably, lilies. Even his perspiration was one of a kind, clean and fresh as if purified by his ardent pores. Daken could certainly do without hearing Johnny’s breathing, that he seemed to be desperately trying to keep under control, and Johnny’s heartbeat, like soft drums pounding behind Daken. His hands rested at mere inches from Daken’s dirty hair and Daken was mortified at the thought of Johnny accidentally brushing it and feeling the coarse texture. He needed to wash it, but personal hygiene had been the last thing on his mind today.
It mirrored well how he felt, though. Dirty, and unworthy.
They reached the med bay. Johnny wheeled him wordlessly to his secure section – they still hadn’t removed glass and adamantium, though the door wasn’t ever locked – and stopped the wheelchair by the bed.
There was a beat of silence, then Johnny finally spoke. “You want to lay down?” There was just a quiver in his voice: he was controlling himself admirably. Daken nodded, then hoisted himself up on the armrests in a vain attempt to do it on his own.
He failed miserably, his legs shaking with the exertion and then betraying him; and he fell hard against the seat. He hated this. He hated to show such weakness in front of Johnny, when he should be strong and sure of himself, so that his rejection would ring true.
Johnny cried out in dismay and was in front of him in a second, his hands hovering by Daken’s shoulders. “Careful!” he said, so softly, and his fingers fluttered inches from Daken. “Can I touch you?”
Daken couldn’t help it: he shut his eyes. So many times he’d been touched without permission – and that cursed train of thought must be derailed, for he refused to soil Johnny by thinking about Romulus in his presence.
Even back then, Johnny had been this mindful. Such a question had been prompted by Johnny’s inexperience, by startled reverence. But still, he’d asked it before grabbing Daken’s biceps, before Daken soiled that innocence with a kiss that tasted of ashes. Daken felt ill at the thought, recalling Johnny’s quiet, surprised moans as Daken sank to his knees on the hard concrete of the Baxter Building’s rooftop and took Johnny into his mouth. It had been a way to cement their bond before leaving; something strong enough to overcome whatever Richards was sure to tell his brother-in-law when he finally realized that Daken had stolen from them. And it had worked: for as long as they were on speaking terms, Johnny had never mentioned anything, even when news of Daken’s exploits in Madripoor had spread. Then Johnny had died – had seemed to die.
For some time after Johnny’s “death”, the only thing keeping Daken together had been the memory of Johnny’s arms around him. Not Johnny’s sloppy kisses, nor his uncoordinated attempt at a handjob once Daken was back on his feet, stopped short by Daken “playfully” swatting his hand away – but Johnny’s embrace. Johnny had gathered him into his arms, had held him close, and for a moment, a moment, Daken had felt at home. He’d felt as if he’d found the peace he’d just told Johnny he was seeking out. As Johnny held him, his turmoil had simmered down to a dull, bearable ache.
He’d known then that he was doomed, that his game was getting out of control, that the roles were reversing. But that small moment between them had both tortured him and comforted him when Johnny had “died.”
Then had come the drugs, that at the end had even tormented him with visions of Johnny, and then he was dying, and then he’d seen Johnny again, but he was real this time. Alive. And he’d lashed out, like the stupid child he’d been at the time.
“Daken?” Johnny, still waiting for an answer. Kind and warm and in front of him.
Daken opened his eyes and lost himself in the depths of Johnny’s. How he longed for Johnny’s embrace –
He averted his gaze. “You can.”
Wordlessly – how fragile was the equilibrium of this interaction, and how Johnny must sense it, so light was he on his feet! - Johnny hooked his arms around Daken’s armpits and pulled him up. It was close enough to what Daken had been craving that he felt himself relax into it, and the next moment he stiffened, angered with himself. That made Johnny’s maneuvers much more difficult, but Johnny didn’t protest as he half-dragged Daken towards the bed and helped him under the sheets.
Afterwards he hovered at Daken’s bedside, looking down at him with that worry that made Daken’s stomach clench. He was wringing his hands, too, and his eyes darted over every inch of Daken’s covered body.
“You all right?” he said softly.
Oh, it was unbearable. “Yes,” Daken said, looking away. It was easier, maybe. Would make it easier. Not that he did know what to do. Oh, he knew what he should do – but he felt, suddenly, that he had no strength for it.
“You need anything?” How, how could Johnny act like this when Daken had hurt him, had laid waste to his home? When there were no pheromones to push, to subtly nudge him towards Daken?
Daken shook his head, fearing he couldn’t be able to speak, and tried to ignore Johnny’s quiet sound of disappointment. Such a fruitless endeavor; Johnny had a way of reining him back, of making him question everything – even himself.
“I’ll go, then,” Johnny said, his voice small. “Take care -”
“Please stay.” It was out of Daken’s mouth before he could even realize the desperate plea was forming in his mind, let alone on his tongue. It startled him with the sheer force of its longing, and Johnny’s breath hitched too.
“All right,” he said softly, and after a moment of hesitation he grabbed a plastic chair, pulled it closer, and sat down.
Silence fell, again. It was ridiculous, dangerous, unfair to Johnny; Daken must put a stop to this. He must send Johnny away, never to look back, and yet – and yet. How he ached! How strongly he’d craved Johnny’s presence, his forgiveness, even knowing he didn’t deserve it!
“When I heard you needed help,” Johnny began, quietly, reeling Daken in. “When McCoy contacted Reed – I had to come here. I had to see you.” A sigh. “I was worried.”
What, Daken thought, shutting his eyes, have I done to you? The words so strongly reminded him of another moment Johnny had bared himself, when Daken had faked his death and then shown up with no regard for Johnny’s sanity, in a ploy to pull Johnny tighter against himself. ‘When I thought you were dead,’ Johnny had said, so quietly, so relieved, “I was sorry. More sorry than you know. I felt terrible that I wasn’t there for you.’ That reaction had been exactly what Daken had counted on, and yet it had left an acidic taste in his mouth. His whole damn foray into Johnny’s home that night had left him with bile rushing up his throat, the blowjob on the rooftop the final nail in the coffin. Johnny’s embrace had startled him, had moved him in ways he hadn’t allowed himself for so long. He’d thought that he was being sloppy, that he was letting sentiment ruin his plans. He’d recoiled. Speaking over the phone had been an easier way to cultivate the relationship without getting too attached, but he’d constantly felt himself slipping, and slipping, and slipping –
And afterwards, he’d hurt Johnny terribly. With his words, with his actions. And there was no Death Seed as an excuse at the time – just the fact that he’d been a real monster back then.
“What you’re feeling,” he forced himself to say, “is a residue of my manipulations, Johnny. I made you like me back then. With words, and actions, and my pheromones -”
“No,” Johnny said simply.
Daken looked back at him; Johnny was gazing at him serenely, with a quiet resolution. It hit Daken, in that moment, that Johnny had grown too. Years had passed, and he’d faced many hardships. He was more mature than the soft boy Daken had lured into his schemes. There was a certain air around him – he was older. Wiser.
Still so young, though. Still so trusting, so soft. So unaware of the open side he was offering, of the many ways Daken could debase him if he were still the man he’d used to be.
“Yes,” Daken said, stupidly. Johnny had to see. “I wormed my way in, Johnny. I exploited you -”
“You know,” Johnny interrupted him, his voice light. “I’ve had ample time to think about all of this. Yes, you used me to get at us.” He cocked his head, as if such a thing was unimportant. “You charmed me. And I let myself be charmed. I let myself be wooed, because you were – you are – amazing, and the idea that a man of your sophistication could be interested in me,” he cradled his hands in his lap, a small smile on his face. “I liked that.”
That had been the whole point. At the time, Johnny truly was nothing more than the baby of the group, always treated like a silly boy despite being an adult. He was spoiled, but so utterly alone it hadn’t even been funny; the pit in Daken’s stomach had formed fairly early. It was returning now.
“You didn’t ‘let me’, Johnny. You had no choice –”
“Oh, come off it,” Johnny snapped, finally showing something other than worry and understanding. “Reed was on it immediately, of course. Fussed over me for days. Studied what you’d left us, all your data, your powers. Your pheromones, Daken.”
Daken swallowed; finally a reaction he could get behind. “Yes. I used them on you.” Not like that, he bit down, Never like that. He’d rather die – but Johnny didn’t need to know that. “What you’re feeling for me, Johnny, is purely artificial.”
“I said come off it. I swear, it’s like you want to make this difficult.” Johnny ran his fingers through his hair. “Reed concluded that they’re close-ranged, your pheromones. That they could probably create an addiction, but only if you use them on someone all day long, for weeks. We didn’t spend that much time together, Daken,” he said, softly. “What I feel is genuine, thank you very much.”
What he felt. Whatever wretched thing he felt, it was Daken’s fault. He had to put a stop to this conversation. “I groomed you, Johnny.” Like he’d been doing to poor Zach. Like it had been done to him –
God, oh, God. What a monster he’d been, he’d turned into Romulus, and Romulus was alive, alive –
“Easy,” Johnny was saying, gently, a hand on Daken’s arm. He was sitting on Daken’s bed, a crease of worry on his forehead. He was caressing Daken, shushing him softly, and his touch was the most comforting thing Daken had ever felt. He leant into it, desperate, panted for air. His face was wet. He shouldn’t do this, he shouldn’t cave, and yet, and yet –
And yet.
Johnny’s touch was light, his fingertips merely ghosting the sheets, but Daken felt their warmth all the same. “I’m sorry I forced this conversation on you. You’re tired, and I upset you. I didn’t mean to.”
Daken let out a shaky laughter. The world had gone mad, that Johnny would apologize to him when Daken was the one in the wrong. “I hurt you, Johnny.”
Johnny hummed. “And I made my peace with it.” His hand was so warm. “You shouldn’t use that word so lightly. It’s a horrible thing, grooming. And you didn’t do that. No one who’d get so ill at the mere idea could be capable of that.”
Oh, but he had been. He had. He’d been trained to exploit any weaknesses, to manipulate his way through everything, by any means necessary. “I used you.” Why didn’t Johnny get it? Was he so desperate to be hurt again?
“A long time ago,” Johnny said gently. “And you’ve changed since then. Haven’t you?”
Daken looked up, at Johnny’s open, soft features. It could be so easy to say ‘no’. To laugh in Johnny’s face. To send him away, sobbing from a few sharp words.
Not easy, no. Not easy at all. “What do you want from me?” he asked instead, defeated. “Why are you here?”
“For you,” Johnny murmured. “I’m here for you. I want to help you, to be there for you. I miss our conversations… I miss us. I miss what we were.”
What we were. Oh, Johnny. They’d never been anything but a fool’s dream.
“We were a lie, Johnny. Don’t you remember the last thing I told you?” God, it was burnt in Daken’s memory. “That was me. You’d expired your usefulness, Johnny, and I didn’t care.”
Johnny’s hand stopped, his breath caught in his throat. Good. Now he’d leave. Now he’d see, and go away, safe, far away from Daken –
Johnny resumed his comforting caress. “You don’t remember.” It was a whisper, with a touch of wonder, and reverence. “That was always a possibility, of course, you didn’t sound like yourself, but I’d hoped -” He shook his head. “I know you cared, even then. Why are you so bent on pushing me away?”
Because it was safer for him. Because Daken didn’t want to slip, and harm him again with careless words. Because Johnny was precious, and didn’t deserve the hurt that came from associating with Daken.
But what did Johnny mean by saying that Daken “hadn’t sounded like himself”? When?
Johnny sighed. “Daken, I… I don’t want to impose. Say the word, and I’ll leave. But know I’m here for you. You can call me anytime, I can come visit. If you want me to.” He shifted, his hand stilled – waiting for Daken’s answer.
That was his cue. That was his opening, his opportunity to close the door to Johnny’s face forever. It would only be right.
“What don’t I remember?” Daken found himself asking quietly.
Johnny shifted, again. He seemed, suddenly, unsure, embarrassed. “You… you called me, Daken.” He cleared his throat, and Daken could see droplets of tears gathering on his long eyelashes. He attempted to sit, alarmed, but Johnny patted his arm. “No, no, I’m fine. Stay down, you need to rest.” He rubbed at his eyes with his palm.
Daken kept his position, awkwardly half sat, dizzy and strained; he ached to reach out, to comfort Johnny over the pain he’d caused. But that was the point, wasn’t it? What right did he have?
He’d called Johnny? Of course he had, they used to talk over the phone extensively –
“After you blew up,” Johnny began, his breath hitching and then resuming normally, “Was that a ruse too, by the way? Like with Mystique?”
Like when he’d faked his death at Hellverine’s hands, he meant. No, Daken’s death in front of Earth’s mightiest heroes had been very real. He’d come back to life in a sewer, though, and he’d hated every second of it. He’d sought death often, back then. He’d found himself in Creed’s hands shortly after, and he’d played along, courting his own murder by his father’s hands – engineering it, really. What a fool. What a fool. “No. I really died,” he muttered, hoping Johnny wouldn’t hear the absolute self-loathing in his voice. ‘Real people stay dead when they die, Johnny.’
“Right.” Johnny squeezed his arm. “Reed had been working on my phone. It was with me, in the Negative Zone, and it had been fried. I wanted to recover some things, so I asked him if he could fix it. He put that on hold, for a while, but some time after you… after you died, he got everything back to me.” He took a deep breath. Daken had an inkling of where this might be going, and dread and anticipation were pooling in his stomach. He hadn’t – he hadn’t, had he?
Of course he had. He’d been a right mess at the time. And the Heat drug, the blackouts –
“There were a lot of voicemails,” Johnny whispered. “You seemed, uh, intoxicated, you were slurring – you were high, weren’t you? That drug that Reed said was killing you?”
Daken could barely remind himself to breathe. He dreaded to think what he could have slurred, calling Johnny’s phone while Johnny was presumed dead. He’d been wrecked by the news, he’d thrown himself into the L.A. party scene – put himself right in damn Roston’s hands. He’d lost count of the times he’d come to in the bathtub, in a pool of his own blood – and now it seemed that, in addition to resorting to self-harm, he’d also called a dead man. More than once.
“Yes,” he choked out. “I was high.”
“Right.” Johnny got quiet, his fingers running circles over Daken’s arm. “You seemed in a lot of pain,” he murmured.
Oh, God. Johnny felt responsible. That was why he was doing this – God knew what the hell Daken had said, in those voicemails. Whatever it was, Daken had been dead when Johnny had finally heard them, and Johnny must have replayed them over and over again, overcome by guilt. And now he’d come to… to do what? To apologize? Him, apologize to Daken? That wasn’t right.
“I’d made my bed, Johnny. It was only right I lay in it.”
“Don’t say that,” Johnny countered immediately, a pang of pain in his voice. “Don’t, okay? Whatever you did – you didn’t deserve all that pain. You don’t deserve that. Nobody does.”
Oh, Johnny. Still so maddeningly kind. So ready to see past any and all faults.
There were things Daken had never deserved. God, at least he knew that now. Things no child could ever deserve. But he also knew when he was in the wrong, when he hurt people. And what had happened to him in L.A. - he’d reaped what he’d sown.
He had to impress upon Johnny how terribly wrong this was, how he wasn’t worthy of Johnny’s worry and affection; he wasn’t worthy of being cried over – not by Johnny, whom he’d hurt so much. But Johnny was so close and so warm and kind and soft and Daken’s tongue was lead in his mouth, and he wanted, oh, he wanted –
“Daken!”
They were both startled by the young cry resounding in the room. He’d been so focused on Johnny, that he hadn’t noticed the scents approaching. He managed to wrench his gaze away from Johnny’s blue eyes and saw Gabby standing in the doorway, worry on her little face. Beside her stood another Daken had wronged.
Zach held himself morosely, his hands thrust in his pockets, and he was leaning against the doorjamb. His brow was knitted with worry, too, but there was a touch of something like irritation in his eyes.
“Gabby, right?” Johnny said genially, turning to face her. She let go of her tortured expression for a moment, and her eyes brightened with excitement.
“You know who I am?”
“Of course! The great and infamous Honey Badger.” Johnny was really good with kids – Daken had noticed that at the time, with his nephew and niece. He’d never cared for that piece of information, but as he watched Johnny smile at Gabby something melted in his chest. “It’s an honor.”
“Oh!” Gabby squeaked, her cheeks tinging with red. “Me too, I mean, likewise. You’re like, a – I’m sorry, do you know each other?” she derailed what she’d been saying, curious.
“We’re friends,” Johnny said matter-of-factly, squashing any attempt to describe more aptly the situation. His hand was warm on Daken’s arm, though, and Daken found he couldn’t correct him.
Zach harrumphed.
“And you? I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name -?” Johnny turned his attention to Zach – still with that attentive, beautiful smile.
Zach crunched up his nose. “Me? I’m no one.” He turned on his heels, and marched out of the room.
“Zach? Hey, Zach!” Gabby went after him. Daken listened to the sounds – to Zach’s angry whispers, though he didn’t dare lay a finger on Gabby, and even if he did, he’d find that she bit.
Zach seemed annoyed. This was his first time visiting, and Daken, too, hadn’t dared approach him past his useless apology in this very room from a few days ago. What good were words? What could they possibly accomplish, given what he’d done?
No, it was better that Zach was angry. That he stayed away from Daken.
Why did that hurt so much?
“You all right?” Johnny murmured, squeezing his arm. Daken breathed out the shaky sigh he’d apparently been holding.
“Yes.”
Johnny gave him a look, as if he was able to call Daken out on his bullshit now, and he opened his mouth, but they were interrupted, again, by Gabby coming into the room.
“I don’t know what’s wrong with him!” she huffed, marching to Daken and brushing her small fingers against Daken’s sheets. “He saw I was coming here and he sneaked in with me, Shadowcat was distracted – You all right, Daken? You look worse than this morning!” she said with dismay, the corners of her lips bending down.
“I’m fine, Gabby. McCoy just roughened me up a bit, that’s all.” Daken winked at her.
She gave him the same look Johnny had given him. “Yes, Laura said. She told me, but I hadn’t expected – well.” She shook her head. “This will cheer you up!” she jumped on the spot a bit.
He was truly blessed, to have a little sister so obviously excited at the thought of cheering him up. God, he’d really let himself go today, hadn’t he? He suppressed his grimace and looked up at her with an encouraging smile. “Yes?”
It was good, that he was laying down already, and that Johnny was firmly holding his arm. The stark relief that flooded him at hearing her news took him by surprise.
“It’s Jimmy!” she fired off, bright and elated, “He’s back!”
Notes:
Next: Jimmy arrives at the mansion.
.
[These two will be the death of me.
This story isn’t turning into a shipfest, I promise. Johnny is going to take a back seat for a while now, although he will show up again. Let me know what you think! Your comments make my day ^-^]
Chapter 25: Jimmy arrives at the mansion.
Chapter Text
25.
It wasn’t difficult to convince Jimmy to follow them.
Laura had thought there would be a fight – and her fellow X-Men were of the same persuasion, or Pryde wouldn’t have sent a team – but Jimmy was remarkably calm, in relative control of the Poison… exactly as the smaller Jean had said. Of course, according to Rachel, the Poison still lurked in the back of Jimmy’s mind, ready to take over its host, and the telepath thought that they ought to rid Jimmy of it; but for now, Jimmy wasn’t a danger to others or himself.
And he was bored. He’d been living in the wilderness for a while now, and he was ready to come back to civilization. He was, too, sensible enough to see that Soteira could represent a problem for him, and that he shouldn’t be alone and risk being captured and giving the monsters another weapon.
He’d followed them into the Blackbird without expressing any doubts. There had been no need, no need at all, to go in so overpowered. Certainly, Laura could have stayed at the school.
With Daken.
She’d left him instead, and she was worried about what she could find when she came back. Oh, he’d told her to go, he’d practically begged her with his gaze – wanting to stay alone with Johnny Storm, to have the conversation he’d apparently postponed for years. In any other moment, she’d have commended his willingness to right a wrong, but today wasn’t the day. Today he was shell-shocked and strained, and she feared he’d be too hard on himself.
It was a relief when they finally touched town at the school. She was on her feet immediately, ready to get out and reach Daken, hoping to find him still in Hank’s lab.
Not a good idea, Laura, Jean’s voice echoed in her mind. He’s having a delicate conversation.
With Storm? Laura paused – in the middle of the jet, she realized, and moved to sit back, ignoring her teammates’ and Jimmy’s curious glances. Is he all right?
He’s doing what he needs to do. There was certainty in Jean’s voice. Don’t worry yourself sick, Laura. He’ll be fine. Think of yourself, too.
I don’t think you realize what you’re asking of me. Laura kept seated as the cargo door opened and Iceman and Rogue led Jimmy down, the young man throwing her another glance. They still hadn’t exchanged a word, as Laura had been too focused on what could await her on their return.
They hadn't spoken in really long, she realized. Even too long, perhaps; other things had occupied her mind, but he was still part of her family.
Oh, I do realize, Jean sighed. Biting the inside of her cheek, Laura met Rachel’s curious, compassionate gaze: the woman knew that her mother was conversing with Laura.
There was a nervous energy around Rachel: Jean and Braddock had convened that she shouldn’t get into Daken’s mind, but she seemed to be frustrated with that decision. Given what Laura knew and had surmised of Rachel's past, she agreed with the other two telepaths.
You think Daken’s your responsibility, Jean said softly, interrupting Laura’s thoughts. You did wonders for him, but he isn’t, Laura. Keep that in mind. As if she could dispel her worry that easily! I’m not asking you to, Jean reassured her, merely pointing out you’re your own person, Laura. He doesn’t want you to annihilate yourself for him, I assure you.
I’m not annihilating myself.
Jean didn’t answer. With a sigh, Laura got up and moved for the cargo door, surveying the hangar.
Pryde had come to welcome Jimmy, and she was talking to him in that newfound brisk manner of hers. Jimmy held himself strangely before her: tightly coiled, a raw longing in his eyes. Pryde seemed to be ignoring it for now, in favor of explaining to him the situation and what was expected of him, what would happen to him if the Poison took over. Rachel cursed under her breath and moved past Laura to join her partner and reassure Jimmy.
That left Laura alone with Polaris. The woman had decided to come with, both to check on her former teammate and to offer her help. Laura couldn’t say she knew her that well – they’d mostly worked together in dire circumstances, with no time for idle chat – but she knew that Magneto’s daughter was viciously loyal.
“That old curmudgeon decided to sit this one out?” Polaris said lightly, coming to stand beside Laura at the door. Despite the situation, Laura was almost startled into a laughter; that wasn’t a phrase she’d ever heard used to describe Daken. It fit, though. Just a bit. “Given how much he was harassing me, I thought I’d have seen him on the rescue team.”
Her mood sobered, Laura turned to face the woman. “Beast was doing a check-up. He was in no condition to fight.”
Polaris cocked her head, sensing that Laura wasn’t telling her everything. “Would he have been in the condition to fight, if Hank hadn’t been doing a check-up?”
Perceptive. Or perhaps something of Daken’s current inner turmoil had bled into his messages.
Laura hesitated. Was Polaris a friend of Daken’s? Could Laura relay his state to the woman? He’d said he found her company “adequate”, but he hadn’t quite elaborated past that. Still, the fact that he’d gone to her for help spoke volumes to Laura.
“Oh, don’t panic. You’re a good sister.” Polaris smiled, all teeth, and winked. Laura could see why Daken might like her. “I’ll see for myself when I visit him. I can visit him, right?” She arched an eyebrow.
Definitely cut from the same cloth as Daken.
“I don’t see why you couldn’t.” Laura nodded at her. “I think he’ll be glad to see you.”
“Oh, I’m sure he’ll hide it.” Polaris grinned.
Not in the state he’s in now, no. Laura sighed. On the one hand, it was good that he wasn’t being able to – so that she could more easily see how he was faring. On the other, she knew how he hated to wear his heart on his sleeve around strangers. Perhaps she ought to check with Daken, before springing Polaris on him. That is, if she managed to see him before Polaris decided to go. Surely Jean would warn her once Storm was gone?
Maybe she wouldn’t. After all, Jean had told her not to worry, and to think about herself. There was some merit to the suggestion – God knew how Laura ached to see Jubilee, and she should apologize for leaving her without waking her up – but she couldn’t rest easily until she saw how Daken fared after this ‘delicate’ conversation with Storm…
All such thoughts ground to a halt at the sight of who was coming into the hangar: Logan was flanked by his partners, and he had a deer-in-headlights look as he cautiously approached Jimmy. As was right, given the delicate situation.
Would that he could be just as careful when he interacted with Daken! Laura clenched her teeth. She stood there, fuming, as Logan finally reached his son from another universe and greeted him awkwardly. Jimmy cocked his head, nodded, shook Logan’s hand.
Beside her, Polaris hummed. “What did Logan do?”
Laura turned towards her. “What?”
Polaris cocked an eyebrow. “You’re visibly seething. What did he do? I assume it was terrible, you don’t strike me as the type to hold an unwarranted grudge.”
Laura worried her lower lip. Polaris was Daken’s friend; she should at least be made aware of something, to better face him. “He hid something from Daken,” she said slowly. Sound carried more easily in the hangar, but Logan seemed to be entirely focused on this new child, and even if he did hear, who cared? At least he’d know where Laura stood on the matter. “Something quite important. I… suppose he did it because he thought it would protect Daken,” or that was what she hoped, anyway, “But it was something he had no right to lie about.”
Polaris crossed her arms. “And you’re angry on Daken’s behalf.” She leaned against the cargo door. “How did he take it?” She pursed her lips.
“It was a breach of trust.” She wouldn’t get into it, it wasn’t right. But she could explain what could be explained. “And he discovered it just as they were trying to mend things. He’s… hurt, mostly.”
Polaris nodded. “Can I give you some advice? One half-sibling to another?”
Laura bit the inside or her cheek. She didn’t like such categorization, but she got Polaris’ meaning. The woman was trying to help; and she had the experience for it. “Please.”
Polaris’ gaze turned towards the scene before them. Laura followed her glance: Logan was talking in fits and starts, attempting to connect with Jimmy, but her brother didn’t seem overtly interested. He was listening, though. The others had moved a bit to the side, giving the duo privacy.
“If Logan’s repentant,” Polaris said, and Laura returned her attention to her, “you should try and mediate. Nothing good comes from this kind of rift. Miscommunication abounds until all Hell comes loose – when it could have taken so little to make up.” She half-shrugged, a grimace on her face. “Next you know, people are at your sibling’s throat and your father’s a mess of guilt and self-hatred.”
It wasn’t quite Daken’s situation, but Polaris’ meaning was clear: she knew how it felt to get stuck in the middle of a family feud, to see her siblings self-destruct. Laura had no intention of letting things go so badly. “It won’t come to that,” she said firmly.
Polaris returned her attention to Laura and seemed to study her. Perhaps this was what they’d bonded over, Daken and her: a difficult relationship with their fathers, perceived abandonment, the huge shadows they projected on their children. Laura herself still struggled with the latter.
Whatever Polaris saw on her face, it apparently satisfied her. “No, you won’t let it,” she murmured. “Well!” she said suddenly, linking their arms together. “Let’s go and say hi, what do you think?” She led her down and Laura let her, too startled to resist.
Logan watched them approach, some alarm in his eyes. Maybe he’d heard something, because he regarded Laura like he wanted to apologize and yet didn’t dare to. Since it wasn’t her he should apologize to, Laura found herself even more irritated.
But she couldn’t say anything in front of Jimmy. He was eyeing them both curiously, sensing the tension simmering beneath, maybe pondering if he should ask.
Yet, his gaze shifted towards Polaris; he’d decided to play it safe. “Are you staying, then?” he asked his former teammate.
“If they’ll have me!” The woman cocked her head to smile at Pryde. “What do you say, Kitty? Are you in need of a metal manipulator?”
“You’re always welcome, Lorna,” Pryde said simply. “How’s Magneto?”
“Oh, you know him,” Polaris shrugged. “He needs his solitude every now and then.”
“Did you condone his plan to kill me?” Jimmy asked quietly. Polaris was startled, but there didn’t seem to be any malice in the question – just quiet interest.
“… I didn’t know he’d sent Daken,” she answered truthfully. Logan’s heart skipped a beat, but he didn’t say anything. For now, at least. “I was there when Jean confronted him – I gave him a piece of my mind. Gave it to Daken, too. I’m sure there was some other way – I’m sorry I didn’t realize sooner.”
“Don’t be,” Jimmy waved a hand. “Your father, and Daken – they knew that sometimes the hardest decision’s the right one. It was the only sensible solution. I was a danger, in that moment.”
Pryde inhaled to speak – to ask if he still was, perhaps – but Logan beat her to it. “Daken tried to kill you?” he choked out. Laura clenched her jaw. Hadn’t he been listening?
“To kill the Poison, yes.” Jimmy tapped at his chin while he returned his attention to Logan, pensive. “Like I said, the only sensible solution. If Jean hadn’t succeeded, they would have had to terminate me, and none of the little ones had the mental fortitude to do it.” Little ones. It was strange, to hear the Original Five called like that.
“Little Jean helped him take over the Poison,” Rachel explained. Jimmy cocked his head.
“But I would have liked to see you tear Daken a new one, Lorna.” His lips quirked upwards. “He’s just so full of himself sometimes, isn’t he?” Although there was warmth in his voice and mirth in his eyes, and Laura knew very well that he was saying nothing but the truth... she pictured Daken as she’d seen him lately – that morning, a few days ago, after the Death Seed was gone. And she couldn’t bear the light teasing.
“He’s the one who insisted to find you,” she spoke up, her voice like gravel. “He was worried.” Daken had thought about Jimmy when even Laura had forgot, and that had to count for something.
Jimmy crunched up his nose. “Was he?” He regarded her with interest, probably inferring there was something she wasn’t saying… sensing her inner turmoil. “I’ll have to thank him.”
“You do that,” she said briskly.
Jimmy cocked his head. “Is he here? At the school?”
“Yes. He’s resting now.” Jimmy arched an eyebrow at that. “I suppose you’ll be able to see him soon.”
Logan shifted. “How is -?”
“Shut up, Logan,” she cut him off with a snarl… taking herself by surprise.
Not just herself. A hush fell upon the hangar; Iceman, Rogue, Kurt, and Ororo, who’d been quietly conversing a little afar from the group, looked in their direction with some alarm. Rachel and Pryde stood stunned – Laura felt something probing at the edge of her mind, a soothing presence, but there was nothing Rachel could do to calm her down, not after what she’d witnessed that morning. And it had been Logan’s fault.
Logan was ashen. Jimmy was eyeing them both, obviously intrigued, and Polaris discreetly nudged Laura. The woman’s advice came to Laura’s mind; Laura intended to follow it – Logan did seem repentant – but now was too soon. She bristled at the mere sight of her father, at how quickly he’d turned to Jimmy…
But that was uncharitable of her. Of course Logan had been worried about Jimmy, too.
She took a deep breath. “Daken’s resting, Logan,” she said quietly. “He obviously isn’t fine, but you couldn’t have expected anything else, considering what you sprung on him.”
Logan hung his head, a flash of pain in his eyes. “No, yer right. I never wanted -” he shook his head. “Don’t matter what I wanted. It’s done.”
“Yes, it’s done.” Laura crossed her arms. Suddenly, she understood what Daken meant when he talked about Logan’s ‘martyr act’. Oh, she’d seen it more than once, and her heart had at times ached for him while at others had frustrated her; but this was the first time she found herself so enraged.
She couldn’t be of any help to her family like this; she had to calm down first. Then she could confront Logan, ask him what the hell he’d been thinking, try to devise a way to mend his relationship with Daken. Not before testing the waters with her brother, of course.
But first, she needed to leave. She felt on the verge of breaking something.
She clenched her jaw. “I’m sorry, I need to go. I didn’t mean to spoil your return, Jimmy – I’m glad you’re fine.”
Without waiting for an answer, she stalked away. Logan attempted to call out for her, but he caught himself, rightly realizing this wasn’t the best moment.
She walked quickly, hoping to get to her room without incidents – hoping Gabby wouldn’t be there. She wanted to check on Daken, but it couldn’t do to show up so disheveled. She just had to calm down; she had to calm down, and then tackle the problem. Regulate her breathing, stop fuming, and calm down –
She collided with someone; she made to apologize, to walk away, but then Jubilee’s scent filled her nostrils, and arms were around her, Jubilee was holding her –
“Sorry,” Laura panted against Jubilee’s chest, grabbing at her, “I left you alone...”
“Oh, no, love, you’re all right. It’s all right.” Jubilee cooed, hugging her tightly. “Shh, it’s all right. I’m here. I’m here, Laura. It’s all right. You’re all right –”
Laura clung to her and held on.
Notes:
Next: Laura talks it out with Jubilee.
.
[I like the idea of Lorna as a friend for Daken. They didn’t interact a lot in X-Men Blue, but I liked her approach towards him and I think he was at a point in his life where he’d have appreciated it.
Let me know what you think! Your comments make my day ^-^ ]
Chapter 26: Laura talks it out with Jubilee.
Notes:
Additional Warnings: slightly sexual situation with some clinical language. The scene starts from “She loved to kiss Jubilee” and ends at “Of course I’m here.”
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
26.
It took Laura a while to calm down.
Truly, she didn’t know what had come over her. It had been a matter of seconds, a sort of panicked feeling, a fury; but thankfully Jubilee had found her before she made a fool of herself. Jubilee led her outside, just as Laura had done for Daken, and let her breathe and recenter herself. Laura sat, sensing the telepaths’ prodding and projecting her will to be left alone. She had no stomach for Jean’s cautious approach, not now.
She recalled what Rachel had told her a few days ago: she should tell Logan how she felt towards him, try to uncoil the tight bundle of feelings he elicited now that he’d returned. She certainly should, if she was to mediate between him and her brother.
Logan had infuriated her in the hangar. It was completely irrational – she was quite aware of it – but she’d wanted to strangle him.
And that couldn’t do.
With a sigh, Laura leaned against Jubilee, who sat close, and rested her head against the woman’s shoulder. Jubilee was warm and soft, and her hand came to rest atop Laura’s immediately.
“Feeling better?” she murmured.
Laura bit her lower lip. “I think so.”
“Do you want to tell me what that was about?”
Laura shut her eyes. “Worry, mainly. Frustration. Logan – he did a wretched thing and I couldn’t stomach his face.” Jubilee stiffened, just a bit. Laura knew that there was great affection between them, and she cursed herself. “I’m sorry. I know you care about him -”
“Oh, no, love.” Jubilee gently caressed her knuckles. “I love him, but I know he can be pretty difficult. What did he do?”
Laura gave her the condensed version of events she’d given Polaris, not dwelling on any detail. She was objective enough to recall that conjecture she’d already made, that Logan had probably acted that way on the ill-advised assumption it would protect Daken – but she repeated, firmly, that it was something he’d had no right to lie about.
Jubilee squeezed her hand. “Just how terrible is this thing?”
Laura felt a lump in her throat. “As if Kimura turned out to be alive and Logan told me nothing about it.” It was the closest she could come to convey how frightful and horrifying a violation this lie was. Jubilee’s breath hitched and she wrapped an arm around her, gently comforting her – Laura was shaking, either at the mere idea she’d conjured or at what Daken was going through. Both, possibly.
“Is that why you were gone this morning?” Jubilee asked. Laura ducked her head in shame, but Jubilee pressed a kiss to her temple. “Hey, none of that. It’s all right, love. You were helping Daken?”
“… I tried, yes. He was upset.”
“Understandable.” Jubilee brought Laura’s hand to her mouth, kissed her palm. “Just as it’s perfectly understandable that you’d want to punch Logan in the face, just so you know,” she said softly, a gentle lilt to her voice. “I can help you do that, if you want. I’ll confuse him with my fireworks.”
Laura breathed a laughter, feeling marginally lighter. “No, I shouldn’t. But thanks for the offer.” She tilted her head, Jubilee’s eyes gazing down at her soft and brown, full of concern and love. Laura closed the distance between them and brushed her lips against Jubilee, thankful for her warmth and presence and spirit.
The kiss was chaste and brief, a flutter of lips; then Jubilee tilted her head back. “Whenever you want, love.”
Laura smiled.
They stayed so entangled for a good while still – until she was certain her heartbeat was steady and her breathing normal, until she knew she wouldn’t really bodily harm Logan if she came upon him again – as the evening slowly became dark and damp around them, sounds and lights slowly diminishing in the building behind them.
Eventually, Laura stirred. “I’m going to check on Daken,” she whispered. She’d vacated his side for even too long. But she knew she’d needed the space, the time to breathe. He needed stability; she couldn’t have gone to him as she’d been earlier.
“I’m coming with you,” Jubilee said simply.
So they went. As they walked, Laura dreaded what she could find – she had no way of knowing how his conversation with Storm had gone, but she’d seen him that morning, and in Hank’s lab, and she anticipated seeing a ghost with tormented eyes and the heavy bags under them that were a constant these days -
But she was in for a surprise. The lights in the med bay were out, and he was sleeping soundly, while a small heap of a figure sat curled up in the plastic chair beside the bed.
Upon seeing them, Gabby disentangled herself from her station and came towards them and past them, motioning for them to follow her outside. Laura did so, too stunned to speak, to even think.
When they were far enough from the med bay that they wouldn’t disturb someone with enhanced hearing, Gabby turned to face them. “Where were you?” she pouted, though her tone wasn’t accusatory. Jubilee squeezed Laura’s hand.
“I’m sorry, Gabby. I needed some time.”
Gabby nodded sagely, as if she knew exactly what Laura meant. “Well, I held down the fort. Daken’s eaten, and Hank slipped him a sleeping pill,” she said conspiratorially.
So that was why Daken was sleeping. It had seemed too good, and strange, to be true. Laura made a mental note to thank Beast when she next saw him. “Have you been here for long?” It wasn’t Gabby’s responsibility to check on Daken – she was just a child. Laura had let her stay with Daken for a while, the past few days, but that had just been to keep him some company… not to ‘hold down the fort’. “Have you eaten?”
“Just for some hours, and yes, I ate.” Gabby waved a hand, rolling her eyes. “It was no problem.” Then she yawned, opening her mouth wide. “Met the Human Torch, too. Did you know he’s friends with Daken? He stayed until Daken fell asleep! They were holding hands!”
“Really?” Jubilee’s tone was delighted, gossip that she was. Laura hummed noncommittally – so Daken and Storm had talked something through – and placed a hand on Gabby’s shoulder, steering her towards the sleeping quarters.
“Time for bed, Gabby.”
Gabby didn’t protest – a testament to how tired she was – and followed her meekly. She didn’t even chatter away, but at their door she turned, looking up at her with sleep-filled eyes. “Oh, and Polaris came some time before you, wanted to check on Daken, but he was already asleep. We didn’t speak much. She told me to tell you to be careful.” A bit of a meddling, perhaps, but one thing was for sure: the woman seemed to really care for Daken, and that was good. He needed friends. “Think we can see Jimmy tomorrow?” Gabby yawned. “I wanted to meet him, but Daken needed me more,” she said seriously.
Laura fluffed her hair. “And you did really good, Honey Badger.” In truth, she felt guilty for having left Gabby alone to deal with Daken – but it was done, and there was no use recriminating. “I’m sure Jimmy will want to see you too.”
Gabby yawned again, tears of exhaustion at the angles of her eyes.
Laura opened their door. “I’m going to have a quick dinner, okay? Don’t wait up.”
Gabby crunched up her nose. “I’m perfectly capable of seeing myself to bed,” she said, in quite a passable imitation of Daken’s most pompous voice. Jubilee held back a snicker. Gabby eyed them seriously. “You two should sleep at Jubilee’s again.”
And with that, she retreated inside and closed the door to their faces.
Stunned, Laura turned to face Jubilee, who smirked at her. “From the mouth of babes.”
“Don’t let her hear you call her that,” Laura countered, feeling heat rise to her face. Gabby hadn’t meant what Laura thought she’d meant, right? Some of her befuddlement must show, because Jubilee’s features softened.
“Love, I’d love for you to stay in my room. Maybe it will help?” she said, a touch of embarrassment in her voice. As if she thought she was presuming too much.
“It would,” Laura said firmly. Jubilee’s brilliant smile in return made her chest ache.
Dinner went by in a flash – the teachers’ kitchen was empty, thankfully devoid of Logan, though Laura did catch his scent – and soon they found themselves in Jubilee’s room after a quick trip to check on Shogo, who was being babysat by Starsmore again. Quietened by the exchange she’d witnessed – Starsmore seemed to adore the kid, and saw nothing wrong with taking care of him for extended periods of time as his previous partner spent time with her new partner – Laura leant against the door Jubilee had just closed behind them.
The room still smelt of her. Laura’s scent clung to the furniture, chased Jubilee’s; their scents mixed in some places – the bed, a chair, the carpet. She recalled, sharply, that morning – Jean’s warning in her mind, her decision to leave before Jubilee even woke up.
“What’s wrong?” Jubilee was looking at her, a crease of worry on her forehead.
Laura grimaced. “I left you alone, this morning. I didn’t even wake you up -” She hadn’t wanted to disrupt Jubilee’s rest, but she should have at least left a message. How careless of her! Starsmore would have been – must have been – far more attentive when they were together.
Jubilee was precious. Laura should focus more on this kind of things; she couldn’t just leave without warning. She’d thought she’d learned that – she’d thought she’d learned how to be reliable when she’d taken Gabby in, but evidently she still had much to learn.
“I told you, it’s all right,” Jubilee said softly. “It happens. You were worried, right? It slipped your mind.” She reached out, caught Laura’s hand.
“You can’t just slip my mind,” Laura murmured. “It was reckless of me.”
“Oh, Laura.” Jubilee closed the distance between them and wrapped her arms around Laura. She was warm – so soft and protective. “It’s normal, with all that’s on your mind. Do you know how many times I forget important things?” She crunched up her nose playfully, bent her head to nuzzle Laura’s cheek. “Lots. I’ve a terrible track record, me.”
She was obviously trying to make Laura feel better, but she wasn’t lying. Laura knew that; Jubilee was terribly forgetful sometimes. “Still. I’m sorry.” She held Jubilee tightly, hoping to convey her remorse, her love.
“All forgiven.” Jubilee pressed a kiss to the corner of Laura’s mouth.
After a few days, it still amazed Laura how naturally it came to her to tilt her head to respond. Affection came easily, with Jubilee; with Warren, she’d always been more subdued, sometimes irritated by his needy displays. But Jubilee felt safe, and sure, so warm and soft in her arms.
She loved to kiss Jubilee. She tasted like cherry, electricity always buzzing at the tip of her tongue. Laura could spend hours like this – enfolded in Jubilee’s arms, their mouths meeting and parting, lips brushing the other’s cheeks and eyelids before returning to lips once more. She loved the feel of Jubilee’s lips on her, of her hands, of being pressed together; she loved it when Jubilee brushed feather-like kisses below her ear, and she loved when she managed to make Jubilee shudder and whimper in her arms. Jubilee was especially sensitive to her lower lip being sucked into Laura’s mouth, and this time was no exception: she shivered, her fingers digging into Laura’s back. Unlike other times, though, she also moaned and pressed hard her pelvis against Laura’s, her breath hitching.
There was a pungent smell, the slick noise of vaginal lubrication being discharged. Laura realized with some trepidation that it came from them both; her own vulva was pulsing. There was an undercurrent of want beneath her skin, in Jubilation’s scent; without thinking Laura slid a hand beneath Jubilee’s shirt, felt her hot skin, chased upwards to find Jubilee’s breast. Jubilee rocked against her, but then she stilled.
She broke the kiss with a sigh and rested her forehead against Laura’s, flushed and bright-eyed. “Everything all right?” Laura asked, her own hand still, inches from Jubilee’s breast. Jubilee must have stopped for a reason.
“Yes, just -” Jubilee bit her lower lip. It was red and plump from their kiss. “Not – not like this, yeah?” She smiled apologetically. “You aren’t really here.”
“Of course I’m here.” Laura cocked her head. But as she said it, she knew it wasn’t completely true – that worry always simmering at the back of her mind. She couldn’t truly let herself go and be there with Jubilee, not with the situation that awaited downstairs. Not with Daken like this. “Sorry, I -”
“No, don’t apologize.” Jubilee pressed a finger to Laura’s lips, smiling softly. “It’s all right. I get it. But our – our first time,” she ducked her head, flushing crimson, “I want that to be perfect. I want you to be able to relax, love.” Laura’s chest tightened painfully; how lovely and considerate Jubilee was. She smiled.
“All right,” she said, brushing a kiss against Jubilee’s finger. “Shall we sleep, then?”
“Yeah. Yeah, you must be dead tired!” Jubilee parted from her with a small wince of longing, but then she smiled brightly, pulling Laura with her towards the en-suite. Before long they were cozily wrapped up in bed, Jubilee having lent her the soft pink pajama she’d already given Laura the previous night. It was a bit too long for Laura, but the excess fabric engulfed her pleasantly; and Jubilee’s arm around her waist was a gentle confirmation.
She was at home, with Jubilee, and she could let herself rest.
Laura came to, registering warm – soft – good in quick succession. As soon as her brain caught up she stiffened, half-expecting Jean to come into her mind again, but nothing came from the telepath, so she opened her eyes.
It was brighter than it should be. They hadn’t overslept, but it wasn’t early either; a quick glance at her phone confirmed it was almost nine. Beside her, Jubilee stirred and sat up with a yawn.
“Mornin’,” she smiled, looking at Laura like she was the sun. Laura’s heart fluttered.
“Good morning.”
Jubilee threw an arm around her, bent to kiss her cheek. “Plans for today?”
“Breakfast together,” Laura said softly. “Then I’ll have to go check on Daken. We’ll keep updated?” she offered.
“Sure! I should really get Shogo back, too.” Jubilee kissed her again and then she was up, cheerful and bright. For a while, Laura watched her move around the room, so animated and buzzing with energy. Her mood was contagious: Laura felt restored, ready to face the day and its challenges.
Once they were both dressed they headed downstairs, their hands naturally linked together. She was so engrossed in Jubilee – in her scent, her smile, her soft hand – that it took longer than normal to realize that she smelt Daken’s scent coming from the teachers’ kitchen.
And, sure enough, he was there – intent, if she wasn’t mistaken, on making tamagoyaki for Gabby.
Standing stock still on the doorway, Laura took in the sight. Gabby sat at the table, chatting away, delighted at being allowed in the room – but then, she always loved it when she got to use it. Pryde was there, too, awkwardly indulging Gabby’s and Daken’s antics. She sat up straighter when she noticed Laura and Jubilee. Gabby turned, alerted by this, and grinned at seeing them.
“Laura!” she shot to her feet and came to hug her. “Daken’s going to stay on our corridor! He has his own room!”
“Does he?” Laura half-embraced her back, a hand lightly caressing Gabby’s hair. She looked from Pryde, who nodded with a set jaw, to Daken, who shot her a greeting over his shoulder.
“That’s great!” Jubilee squeezed Laura’s hand, then moved towards the counter. “Whatcha making, Daken?”
“Omelets. Japanese.” Daken moved some steps to his right, giving her space to work if she needed to. “Do you want one?”
“Thank you! Ohhh, they look good!” Jubilee peered down at them with hungry eyes, then grinned at Laura. “Can I keep him?” Her voice sparkled with mischief, but there was reassurance in her eyes – as if trying to impart on Laura that he seemed to be feeling better.
He did, and it gladdened her to see him like this; but she wasn’t so easily fooled. She could see that he’d recovered from the doctors’ check-up – and the full night of sleep had helped, certainly – but his mental state was another matter entirely. Still, she’d indulge him until she managed to talk with him alone. “You’ll have to ask him,” she answered, infusing her voice with just as much mirth.
“Ah, Jubilation, I wouldn’t dare rob my sister of your beauty,” Daken said seriously as he made another omelet.
“Oi! I told you to call me Jubilee!” Jubilee swatted his arm playfully. Gabby’s hold on Laura’s tightened; looking down, Laura saw that her sister’s eyes were squinted shut – stark, gut-wrenching relief visible on her features. Laura held her back comfortingly. It wasn’t over, not by a long mile, but she’d count this as a victory. The scene was domestic, and thoroughly lovely.
Perhaps thinking she was intruding, Pryde got up. “We’ll, I’ll leave you to it. I’ll keep you informed, Daken.”
“Yes. Thank you, Pryde.” Daken’s voice was, suddenly, tightly controlled. Laura tried to meet Pryde’s eyes, but the woman was gone in a moment, leaving her alone with her family.
Well. A part of it, anyway. Laura patted Gabby’s shoulder, so that she would move away.
Gabby squeezed her hard then released her, going to hop on her chair. “I’m hungry!” she called out, a bit childishly.
“Coming, my princess.” Daken turned on the spot with a flourish, a tray of delicious-looking – and smelling the part – tamagoyaki rolls balanced on one hand. He was smiling, but the smile didn’t quite reach his eyes.
Laura worried her lip. She couldn’t ask, not here – he wouldn’t like that. Sighing, she moved to sit beside Gabby, Jubilee sitting opposite her. “Hank cleared you?” she said, settling for something neutral. She grabbed a roll from the tray; Gabby was already tucking in.
Daken hummed as he took the seat to Gabby’s right. “I’m going to see him again, but it was absurd to keep me in the med bay. I’m fine, barring the pheromones’ absence.” His jaw tightened.
“Still nothing?”
Instead of answering, Daken picked up his own roll and bit at it pensively. For a while there were only chewing sounds, punctuated by Jubilee’s occasional enthusiastic remarks. Daken cocked his head at those and thanked her, but there wasn’t real warmth in that either. He seemed elsewhere, remote; Laura didn’t like that. Still, there wasn’t much she could do right now; it wasn’t the right moment to corner him.
His phone chimed and he glanced at it to read. The corner of his mouth quirked upwards, but in a strange, melancholic way, and he brushed a finger against the screen in what wasn’t as much a swipe, but rather seemed to be a caress.
The screen blackened and Daken turned towards her. “Well, still no pheromones, no. But now, thanks to the good doctors, we have a lead, and dare I say, for Soteira too. Pryde’s on it already.”
“They reached a consensus?” Hank should have called for Richards quite sooner, then.
“Quite.” Daken crunched up his nose, again with that hard light in his eyes. “Of course, Richards had a head start. He’d met the substance before.”
Laura straightened up, the meal forgotten. “Really?”
Daken hummed, bit at his roll delicately. There was a quiet control in his every movement; she should have seen it sooner. He was almost seething, but he was doing his best not to let Gabby see that. The threat of violence was clear behind the calm mask.
Daken set the roll down, still chewing slowly. Jubilee met Laura’s gaze with a raised eyebrow, but her expression shifted as she read Laura’s. They waited with some trepidation as Gabby ate obliviously on.
“Really,” Daken said softly once he swallowed the small bit down. “You see, he managed to isolate a component of the chemical. It held an uncanny resemblance to the Heat pills.” He shuddered unconsciously. Laura knew the drug had been the reason for the loss of his healing factor years before – the reason why he was dying at the time, why he’d been so desperate that he’d bombed New York.
She knew something else, too. The name of its dealer, who’d been brought into custody years before thanks to Daken himself. He would be as good a scapegoat as any other, considering Daken’s current state of mind – he must be focusing on this threat to avoid thinking about Romulus.
She wanted to reach out and hold Daken’s hand, but Gabby was in the way. Their sister, though, wasn’t as clueless as Laura thought, and grabbed Daken’s hand in Laura’s stead. Daken graced Gabby with a smile, then looked at Laura again.
“Pryde’s looking for Marcus Roston,” he said tonelessly. “She hopes he’ll lead us to Soteira.”
And, judging from the loathing in his eyes, Marcus Roston was likely to not survive the interrogation.
Notes:
Next: the search for Roston brings out another skeleton from the closet.
.
[I’m taking a short break, I’ll update on March 10th!
Let me know what you think, your comments make my day ^-^ ]
Chapter 27: Another skeleton from the closet.
Notes:
Additional Warnings: mentions of torture, implied child abuse, panic attack.
MOREOVER: I realize that, when I first posted this story, I said that there wouldn’t be non-con elements, or even the smallest mentions of rape. As you might have noticed however, there were a few off-hand comments in some chapters. This is because I strongly believe that Daken is a survivor of sexual abuse, and I couldn’t just hand-wave the issue. I did add the relevant tag (#Past Rape/Non-Con) a few months ago, but I realized it could clash with what I’d said at the beginning and confuse readers.
So: although there obviously and adamantly won’t be any rape (on-screen or otherwise) in the present of the story (because that is not the story I’m telling); and although there won’t be any graphic recounting of things that happened in the past; the issue will be addressed, and I’d rather make that clear now than later. I apologize for not clarifying this sooner.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
27.
Marcus Roston had vanished into thin air.
Kitty had done her homework thoroughly, but at some point during the past year and a half Roston had apparently been relocated, and there was no paperwork indicating where, or even who’d done it. He just wasn’t in his cell anymore, a cell he’d been flung into when the Runaways had given him to the authorities while sternly imparting how dangerous he was.
Logan had thought he more or less knew what the man was about. After Daken had blown himself up in New York, Logan had retraced some of his son’s steps, desperately looking for a reason – cut deep by finding that Wolverine doll on his bed, Daken’s scent still clinging to it, its meaning unclear; a mocking gesture? An apology? So Logan had done his research.
He’d learnt that Roston was a psychopath, that he’d framed Daken for a number of horrific murders, that at some point he’d been a member of the Pride. Logan had even tried to speak with the FBI agent who’d been assigned to the case, but the woman had left the agency and wanted nothing to do with him. She’d just told him, on the phone, that his son was deranged and dangerous and she was glad he was dead. But she’d added, quietly, that at least he’d done a good thing in helping catching Roston, even though it had been more of a personal matter for him.
Logan had thought she was talking about the framing.
Now, sitting in the conference room, listening to his son report straight-backed in front of a cohort of X-Men as if he belonged there, he was beginning to get a different picture. Daken had insisted on taking the floor as soon as Kitty had announced Roston was AWOL, and now he was regaling them with a condensed version of what he knew about the man. And what Daken knew – but most importantly, what skirted unspoken at the edges, because Daken valued his own privacy – made Logan’s hairs stand on end.
Roston was a psychopath. He possessed some form of telepathy and shapeshifting abilities, and used both to play cat and mouse, make people see things that weren’t there, drive them insane. He was out of control: he’d began dealing because he was bored, and he’d fixated on Daken for the same reason. His son stood in front of the X-Men with a clenched jaw and squared shoulders as he told them he’d committed the mistake of underestimating Roston only to discover the hard way that the man was a most dangerous opponent, and the X-Men would do well to tread accordingly.
Revulsion tinged his voice. It was well hidden – Daken must be controlling himself fiercely – but it was there. And Logan couldn’t discern who was its target. On a surface level, one would obviously say Roston… but Logan couldn’t shake the feeling that Daken was just as revolted by himself, or by what Roston had done to him at the time. Because things had certainly happened, and not just a framing job. To speak like this, Daken must have known Roston intimately. He’d tried to play the man, perhaps, only to get played in return – and Roston must have struck where it hurt the most, aided by his telepathy. Logan knew it had been bad: he had only ever smelt Daken sweat this particular, rancid way when Romulus was involved.
Logan searched Laura’s gaze, to see if she was as alarmed as him, but she was looking at her brother, still bent on avoiding him – something he couldn’t blame her for, not with the information she had. It was good to know that she had so firmly Daken’s back; and there was definitely a crease of worry on her forehead, so she must have caught on what Logan had seen.
In truth, most of the X-Men were regarding Daken with interest. One could easily tell that he’d been burnt, and this willingness to bare some of himself to warn them struck a chord. Kitty looked pensive, perhaps reconsidering what she thought about him. The mild almost-there distrust that Logan had sensed when Daken had come into the room with Laura seemed to be dissipating. Logan knew that not everyone might have agreed with Kitty’s decision to let Daken stay, but no one had dared say anything to his face; if Logan hadn’t been in the room beforehand, he might have missed it.
But it was difficult to distrust someone who looked like his son looked right now; the X-Men had always loved to take in broken things. Sure, Daken had cleaned up admirably, his healing factor finally kicking in properly: he moved with poise – slowly, carefully, with elegant purpose. He’d shaved, and fixed his hair too, although his mohawk had yet to make an appearance and he was sporting a perfectly combed bun.
But his eyes were weary and his expression shifted often and no one could easily forget how he’d looked mere days before, laying on that gurney, confused and hurting. They’d all heard him and they’d all seen him, and they’d all seen Logan in the bunker, and mind-control was a nasty thing most of them knew intimately. Seeing Daken so touched by it, still so high-strung, helped them see not the criminal, but a mutant in need of help.
Even those who weren’t there when Daken had been rescued seemed to be treading carefully; and Lorna and Jimmy regarded him in a way Logan couldn’t quite read. Lorna had greeted Daken as soon as he’d entered the room, and his son appeared at ease with her, but she looked at him with ill-concealed worry, perhaps having brought up to speed by Laura. Jimmy hadn’t exchanged words with his brother, but they’d nodded at each other from a distance: a flash of something like regret in Daken’s eyes, Jimmy’s head cocked to the side. Jimmy, too, was studying Daken intently.
Logan would have loved to know what went on in his head, but Jimmy was elusive, preferring Lorna’s company or, inexplicably, Old Logan’s; Logan often saw them together on the premises, and he did his best to bury the funny, uncalled-for punch of jealousy in his guts. Kurt and ’Ro said it was normal, that Jimmy knew the old counterpart better, that he’d shared many dangers with Polaris; that Logan just had to give it time.
They were right, of course. But in this moment where Daken justifiably kept his distance and Laura gracefully followed suit, Gabby following their lead with a pout and a shrug, Logan had hoped to manage to build something, even brief, with Jimmy. He knew he wasn’t his son, not really – that the boy had a whole life he’d had to leave behind, now completely lost to him; but Jimmy was still his blood. He’d followed Betsy’s advice, though, and he wasn’t wallowing in those nasty feelings. He was opening up more with his partners, allowing them to see more than usual; and he’d been talking with Betsy.
It wasn’t therapy, though. Just conversations.
“Thank you, Daken,” Kitty said. “You were most informative.”
Daken appeared to bite the inside of his cheek – maybe wondering if she was dismissing him, but she looked genuinely grateful, and he settled for a brisk nod. When he was once again seated beside Laura, Kitty spoke again.
“The problem, you’ll forgive me, is that you tried to deal with Roston alone,” she said softly. Daken grimaced. “But we have telepaths, and now that you warned us we’ll be even more careful.”
“Do we think he’s behind Soteira?” Remy said from his place at Rogue’s side.
“He’s certainly behind the chemical,” Hank said. “I worked on it with Reed, and we’re positive: its core component is the same as the drug Heat.”
“This ‘blood of the Pride’ thing.” Bobby leaned against the chair in front of him. “Is it actual blood?” He made a face.
“I’m, ah, afraid so,” Hank adjusted the glasses on his nose. “It’s actually quite fascinating -”
“I’m sure,” Daken said dryly. Hank coughed.
“Ah, yes. My apologies, Daken, Logan.” Daken twitched, resolutely staring ahead. Hank sighed. “At any rate, he’d have needed a laboratory, and resources. Things he didn’t have in prison.”
“Which is why we’re going to question the, um, guy in the cell next to his.” Kitty worried her lower lip, gaze shifting from Logan to Daken. “He might shed some light on where did Roston vanish to.”
“I’m in, of course,” Daken said.
“That won’t be necessary.” Kitty looked almost like she was bracing herself, her hands linked behind her. She sucked in a breath, her eyes slightly glazing in that tell-tale sign of a conversation being held with a telepath.
The trio of telepaths stood in a corner with crossed arms and stony expressions; Jean, in particular, looked downright murderous. Rachel was more sedated, though her jaw was clenched tightly; and Betsy’s gaze flickered, for a moment, towards Daken.
“I’m well-versed in interrogation techniques,” Daken was saying. “Most of them are illegal, of course, but if this guy’s in the same prison as Roston’s he can’t be an angel. You should dispel with the niceties.”
“And how would you like being tortured for information?” Bobby scoffed – then winced, likely recalling his own run-in with Daken.
“Oh, darling, but I have been. You should try it, terrific stress-reliever.” Daken batted his eyelashes at him, winked when Bobby grimaced. Laura patted Daken’s hand and he sighed, half rolling his eyes.
It was disturbing, to hear him mention it so off-handedly. Logan, too, had had his fair share of torture: he didn’t like to throw it at people’s faces, it happened and he could take it and that was it; but Daken’s attitude was much different. Almost indifferent.
Daken straightened up. “I wouldn’t offer, I know how squeamish you all are, but this is Roston we’re talking about. Going in all lovey-dovey won’t help.”
“Oh, we are going to ‘dispel with the niceties’,” Jean muttered darkly from the corner. “I’m going in; I’ll interrogate the man.”
“Exactly.” Kitty nodded. “Jean will extract any information we need from the subject. Your, ah, ‘expertise’ isn’t required, Daken, but thank you.” She grimaced.
Daken shrugged. “Suit yourself.”
With that, they re-adjourned. As Logan stood up, though, he felt a discreet nudge against his mind. Logan, Betsy’s voice said, Please stay behind a moment.
Logan told ’Ro and Kurt he’d be right behind them, and proceeded to sit back down as the room slowly emptied, some of the X-Men throwing Daken glances and grimaces, perhaps due to his last words.
Daken and Laura, too, were staying seated; Daken had crossed his arms and refused to look in Logan’s direction, but Laura met Logan’s gaze, her expression a bit warmer than the last time they’d talked. Jubilee kissed Laura’s forehead before leaving – and that had been a development he hadn’t seen coming, even though he knew they were close friends; he still had to talk to Laura about it, tell her how happy he was for her and Jubilee.
When the last of the X-Men were gone, Kitty closed the door behind them. Now it was just her, the telepaths, and Logan, Daken, and Laura. That didn’t bode well.
“So, Pryde.” Daken lazily crossed his legs. “I assume we were asked to stay behind so that you could tell us what you were hiding just now.”
With a sigh, Kitty dropped on a chair. “Yes. I’m sorry, Logan, Daken.” She pinched the bridge of her nose. Logan leaned forward, sensing the hesitation and turmoil in her voice. “It wasn’t my intention to lie to you. I thought it might just be best to tell you afterwards, but -” She looked at the telepaths, who were joining them. “It was brought to my attention that wasn’t right.”
Just as it hadn’t been right to go rescue Jimmy without telling Logan – but Logan bit his cheek. It was no use bringing it up now, and Betsy had explained they’d thought it best not to overload him after his confrontation with Daken.
And there was an electricity in the air, something he didn’t like. Laura was furrowing her brow, her eyes fixed on Kitty; beside her, Daken had gone rigid.
“Just get on with it, Pryde,” he ground out. Logan nodded.
Again, Kitty sighed. “The guy from the cell next to Roston – it’s Romulus.”
Daken shot to his feet. Laura vainly grabbed his arm, but Daken wasn’t attacking Kitty:
“You are not bringing him here,” he choked, wide-eyed – his face white as a sheet. “Don’t let him near the children. Laura, take Gabby and go -” He turned towards his sister, wheezing; the implication there was unnerving and horrifying and it tore at Logan’s guts, made him stare helplessly at his son… his poor son.
Logan didn’t dare approach him, try and comfort him; Daken would gut him if he came closer. His son was drowning with panic; if he’d still possessed his pheromones they’d probably have felt everything he was feeling, so utterly he’d lost his composure.
But he didn’t have them back, not yet anyway, and so they were safe from any shifts in their perception – free to see him, to witness the extent of the damage. Logan’s heart ached and he wanted to hold his son, to reassure him – but he couldn’t.
Laura seemed to have it covered. She stood at her brother’s side, her hand laid gently on his arm; and Jean had come closer, she was talking softly: “He’s not coming here,” she was saying, “I’m going to the prison, he’ll stay in the cell. We aren’t risking a breakout, Daken, we know how dangerous he is -”
“The kids will be safe,” Kitty interjected firmly, wonder in her eyes. “Their safety is paramount, obviously.”
Laura shot her a heated glance that screamed ‘Why the hell were you thinking of hiding this?’, and Kitty grimaced, although she stood her ground. Beside her, Rachel looked ashen. Betsy stood at a few paces from the group, her arms crossed, her gaze on Logan.
Are you all right? she asked, as if she didn’t know the answer. Logan shrugged; this wasn’t his show. He’d suffered from Romulus’ machinations, yes, but not as much as Daken. He had no intention of making this about him.
Betsy sighed.
“If they’re together,” Daken choked, in a clear attempt to get his breathing under control. His hands were closed into fists, his knuckles white. “If they’re working together, you’re done. We’re all done, I’m done -” A tinge of hysteria appeared in his voice, like shattered glass.
“We’re the X-Men,” Kitty stated. “We’ve faced worse than this. They’re just two men, Daken.”
Daken laughed.
It was a dark, unamused sound. A thing that didn’t belong in the light, so wracked with despair it took the wind out of Logan.
“You need to kill him,” Daken howled, the red of his eyes showing. “That’s the only way you can be sure it’s safe.” He wasn’t talking about Roston, obviously; Roston was a small fish. Take Romulus out of the equation, and Roston was handleable. Romulus was the stuff of nightmares for Daken; the boogeyman, the man in the shadows. How in hell had Logan missed that, years ago?
Jean shook her head. “I can’t do that, Daken. He’s in prison. That’s not how we -”
“Then you’re useless,” Daken snarled. “You could just give him a stroke and no one would even know, but you’re too self-righteous, right? Too stuck up to do what needs to be done.” His voice was getting louder, echoing in the large room – sheer despair manifest to everyone, probably even to anyone still lingering outside. Laura squeezed his arm and he hung on to her like a lifeline, a pale hand grabbing hers. “I’ll do it,” he said wildly, “Bring me with and I’ll do it. You can even throw me in a cell later, I don’t care.”
Despite all his protestations and his fury, despite the hate in his eyes so many years ago – Logan had a hard time believing that his son would ever manage to follow through. Logan should do it, finish what he’d started. Wouldn’t that be the right gift for his son? Wasn’t that the right thing to do?
Kill Romulus now, and Daken will never recover, Betsy said. Logan started, looked up at her. That was nonsense; didn’t she see how the mere mention of his name, the mere prospect of his existence, harmed Daken? Exactly. She cocked her head. Logan, your son needs to deal with what was done to him. If you take the choice away from him, the chance to heal – his sanity will be compromised. He’ll decide when he’s ready.
And now he isn’t?
She frowned. No.
“If I thought you could deal with meeting him, I’d let you,” Jean said softly. “But you can’t. Daken, I advise you against it. Your mental health -”
“Oh, I was unaware I’d already undergone your telepathic eval, Grey,” Daken spat. “When did you do it? Whilst I was sleeping?”
“I wouldn’t dare,” Jean murmured. Daken scoffed. “Have I given you any reason not to trust my word, Daken?”
Daken moved his head sharply to the side, averting his gaze. For a split second, he met Logan’s eyes – his expression was wild, inhuman – and then he looked away from Logan too, with a grimace. He shut his eyes, sheer exhaustion on his features.
Logan’s heart went out to his son, but even then he didn’t dare getting closer. It was enough, wasn’t it, that Daken was letting him stay, that he wasn’t attacking him for leaving Romulus alive, for the lie he thought Logan had told him? Daken knew who the enemy was. It wasn’t Logan anymore; and Logan could stay and comfort his son with his presence, even if he couldn’t approach him. Laura was squeezing Daken’s arm – speaking gently, trying to ground him back. Logan ached to be there, to help out his son; but he knew that right now, he had to keep his distance.
Was Betsy right? Was Jean right? Was it the right approach to let Romulus live, to be used as a prop for Daken’s recovery?
Wouldn’t that be poetic justice? For the puppeteer to be used in return?
“I care about your well-being,” Jean said. “That’s the only thing on my mind right now. And I can tell you that seeing him now would do you more harm than good. Give yourself time. I assure you, he’s not going anywhere,” she bit out, so darkly that one would almost think she was the Dark Phoenix all over again – her features fierce, full of sharp angles. “Give yourself the satisfaction of being able not to flinch when you’ll finally meet his gaze.” Her eyes lingered briefly over her daughter, who was watching her intently; they shared a bitter expression full of regret.
Daken shuddered, then grimaced: he’d just confirmed that her prediction was spot on. “Flinch, huh? Are you sure you didn’t get into my mind?”
“I’ll only ever do it with your permission, Daken.” Jean returned her attention to him.
“Then do it.” Daken straightened up, looked back at her – his jaw clenched. He seemed less wild than before, more sedate. “Go and interrogate him and when you come back, Grey, you’ll work on me.”
“With you,” Jean corrected him gently. Logan held his breath – incredulous that she’d just managed to penetrate Daken’s walls, earn his trust so that he’d willingly let her touch his mind. That he’d ask her to, even.
“With me,” Daken amended, a glint in his eyes. “I’ll hold you to it, Grey. Don’t make me regret this.”
She nodded. It was monumental, what she’d just done – and, to Logan’s knowledge, she’d accomplished it with nothing more than a few careful words here and there. He didn’t know if it was a testament to her skill or to the changes in Daken; both, perhaps. The son he’d known would have never bared himself so, would have never allowed such a thing. Hell, he was deathly afraid of telepaths – Logan had heard him cry in fear just a few days ago, seen him try to writhe away from them when all his defenses were down and his body was a puppet with a weak mind. And Logan still remembered the old fiasco with Chuck, that had left Daken with holes in his memory.
Hell, he still remembered what he’d asked Chuck to do, so many years ago. He was grateful Chuck had ignored him. It had led to betrayal on Daken’s part, but at least he hadn’t violated his son’s mind.
He’d always got it so wrong, with his son. But now he was on the right path. And Daken would get better. Jeannie would take care of it. And when the time came – when the timing was right – Logan would tell him he hadn’t betrayed him, he hadn’t lied. And he’d ask forgiveness for what he had done.
But now he had to step aside, and wait.
Notes:
Next: Daken has a plan.
.
[We don’t know exactly what happened with Roston after he got a helicopter dropped on himself, but I figured he’d have been thrown in jail. And there aren’t many prisons for super-villains nowadays. So this development was a bit of a given.
What did you think of this chapter? Let me know, your comments make my day!]
Chapter 28: Daken has a plan.
Chapter Text
28.
Waiting was the worst part.
Inaction was a curse and the knowledge of what, exactly, he was sitting out drove Daken mad. He could picture it vividly, shivers breaking his skin: Romulus’ massive body, Jean Grey’s frail figure as she confronted him. Grey was all but fragile and she was the one with all the power in this particular instance and she wasn’t even alone, Braddock would act as back-up – but old habits are hard to break. And it infuriated him that it was so, it infuriated him that the mere prospect of what could be happening at this exact moment filled him with such dread.
Time hadn’t been kind to him. Years before, when he’d thought he was destroying the shackles around his wrists, it had taken him a long time to realize he wanted to rebel, that he should – the truth about his mother was what had tipped him over the edge. The knowledge that he’d never have what he’d bled for, that he’d never counted for anything, that he’d suffered for nothing… all that hadn’t been enough to make him turn against his master; it had been that betrayal, that realization, that mirage of unattained love to spur him to action. It had taken enormous strength to strike against Romulus that day, but he’d done it, because it was fresh and he was hurt and furious.
But then, years had passed. And with them had come the awareness. It had been a slow, horrifying process but he’d undergone it. He’d faced the nightmares and the stray thoughts and the truths crawling under his skin. He’d dissected his life, bit by painful bit. He’d unearthed and questioned the stuttering certainties that a child had clung to in order to survive – that it was good, that he needed it all, that he must become stronger and harder, that Romulus had his best interest at heart.
It was abuse, what he’d lived through. Plain and simple.
When he’d struck against Romulus, that knowledge had already been at the back of his mind, but anger and self-preservation had shoved it aside. Instead, he’d entertained vague thoughts about sacrifices and his own willingness to gain power, because that was, oh, so much easier to handle. He’d been able to lash out, to confront Romulus, to spit out his hate, because he hadn’t yet allowed himself to think the truth. He’d been ‘used’ and ‘deceived’: that was what he’d told himself. Those were the words to describe his life, the weaknesses he’d let Romulus exploit.
But he hadn’t let Romulus do anything. He’d been a damn child. And he’d been abused.
Mixed with the unconditional, terrible love he’d always borne for the monster, there had always been a measure of hate and fear. But not like this. God, not like this; after his “death”, Romulus had morphed from tangible master to shadows whispering at the edge of Daken’s consciousness. And if Daken were to face him now – now that time and distance had made him so much bigger and monstrous – Jean Grey was probably right that the outcome could be different from what Daken envisioned.
Years before, he’d entertained fantasies of torturing Romulus; now the mere thought made him want to retch. Because he knew the buttons Romulus could push; and he realized that he didn’t want to touch Romulus – that he couldn’t.
And now Romulus might have allied himself with Roston.
Daken wasn’t proud of his visceral reaction in the conference room. Marcus Roston was just an ant, a vicious bastard who’d held Daken down for a while but had eventually been defeated. He was disgusting and he knew more than Daken would have liked, but he was a single man. A mere man.
A man who had the means to affect Daken’s healing factor, his powers, his very mind. To associate such a threat with Romulus made Daken’s blood run cold. It wasn’t the monster’s M.O. - Romulus liked his victims to know exactly what was happening; he cultivated their loyalty with pain and the occasional praise, and he wanted them to know who pulled their strings. A mind-control drug wasn’t his style, but he’d spent years in prison, he that had never been caught through millenia, and he must be angered, willing to employ unusual methods to get back at those who’d wronged him.
It was an alliance made in hell, and Daken was furious that the prospect scared him so. He was warring with himself: battling with worry and abject relief, utterly baffled by how easily he’d let others take matters into their hands; decades of training were screaming at him to get out and pursue his tormentor alone, were telling him that he couldn’t trust anyone.
But he could. He could trust people, he’d learnt it with Laura. He could let them handle the monster, as if he was unimportant, not even worthy of Daken’s attention. The truth was much scarier but wasn’t it sweet, to imagine Romulus pulling so many strings to get back at him and being rewarded instead with Grey’s steely interrogation and Braddock’s contempt?
It wasn’t. He couldn’t contemplate it, couldn’t imagine it, because if he pictured Romulus’ wide body, even if bound, he was lost. He was shivering uncontrollably – he’d been for quite some time now – and not even the scalding water was enough to dispel the feeling, the coldness closing around his heart; the clawed hand squeezing his throat.
This was utterly pointless. Hot showers usually did the trick, but it wasn’t working, and he couldn’t stay in the en-suite forever. He couldn’t hide; he couldn’t let Romulus dictate what he did, his leash still so tight after all these years, with so much distance between them. He was far away: that had to matter for something. It was all right if Daken reacted like this if the monster was close – it wasn’t, it wasn’t, dammit, but at least he’d understand that – but he was… safe here. In this room, in this school, amongst fools who’d accepted him without a second thought, who were taking care of him… taking care of his problem, asking for nothing in return. Just because it was right.
Daken turned off the water and stood, still shivering, his hands held before him. He studied the way his skin healed; at least he still had his healing factor. He retracted his claws, which had come out at some point during his shower, and leaned his forehead against the wall, taking deep breaths.
There was a soft knock at the bathroom door. Laura. “Daken?” she said, quietly. “I’m going to come in if you don’t answer.”
Daken sighed. “I’m coming.” He heard Laura exhale shakily, berated himself for making her worry. He must have lost all sense of time, for her to break into his room; and he must have been completely out of it not to notice the intrusion.
He stepped out of the shower and grabbed a towel, dried himself quickly. The mirror was still fogged by steam and he wiped it with a hand, taking in what a sorry sight he made. He’d kill himself rather than letting Romulus see him like this – frazzled, afraid.
He didn’t have to.
He tied up his wet hair in a bun and wrapped a dry towel around his waist, having left his meager belongings in the bedroom.
Laura was waiting for him at the small desk he’d been provided with, her arms crossed rigidly. Her gaze trailed all over him, bluntly searching for any signs of his turmoil; not that she needed to actively look for them. He let her assuage her fears and exposed himself to her scrutiny in silent apology as he browsed the clothing left for him in a drawer. If he was going to stay here, he’d have to reclaim better clothes from some safe-house.
Strange, to contemplate something like that. But, at least until Grey was done with him – until this matter was put to rest – there was no other option.
He settled for an X-Men-themed outfit and gave Laura his back as he got dressed. His fingers trembled as he buttoned his jeans; it wasn’t the only part of him still shaking, he could feel himself practically vibrating, but Laura gracefully ignored it.
Or not.
“Daken,” she murmured when he was finished. “It’s all under control. He won’t escape, they won’t let him.”
“I know.” Intellectually, he did. With a sigh, Daken turned to face her, her brow pinched with worry although she was trying to smooth her features in reassurance. “It’s… difficult,” he admitted. “Staying here, doing nothing. Waiting for news.”
She nodded. “You’d have preferred to be there.” She bit her lip, as if to avoid saying what he knew she must be thinking – Grey was right; he was in no condition to face Romulus.
“No.” Daken crossed his arms, held himself tightly. He leaned against the dresser, searching for words. “Yes. But I… see that I can’t. I need clarity first, I… I don’t want to be so affected by this, by him anymore. And I fear what I could do if I found myself before him.”
There was a foul taste in his mouth, but it had to be said: he couldn’t even trust himself. Hate and pain run through his veins but just a few words, black eyes glinting as a leer formed on Romulus’ face – and what would Daken do then? Would he stay strong, do what needed to be done? Would the hate overcome the fear? Or wouldn’t he, perhaps, revert to a sniveling child, confronted with the truth hammering his skull?
Laura approached him as if he was a scared animal. She laid a hand on his arm – slowly, giving him the chance to recoil. “When Kimura caught me,” she murmured, and he knew by the way she chased away a revulsed shudder that it affected her to speak of this, that she was doing it for his sake, “it was hard. I would have easily turned to despair if Gabby hadn’t called for help. I was alone and completely helpless, under her control. Her weapon, to be used as she wanted.” She grit her teeth; he covered her hand with his and squeezed. He knew what she was talking about. Their leashes couldn’t have been more different, but the both of them were tight, and chafed them raw. “You’re not alone,” she added, quietly.
He nodded. “I’m not alone,” he repeated, tasting that truth on his tongue. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you, for Kimura.” That, too, needed to be said. He’d been otherwise occupied – turning into his former tormentor, fighting to keep the darkness at bay; ultimately, failing. He’d failed a lot of people: hurt them so; let them down. Laura… Johnny… Zach.
God, Zach.
Daken turned his head, a wave of nausea washing over him.
“Hey, hey.” Laura shook him gently. “It’s all right. I survived, and you survived, and we’re here. And I’m here for you, Daken.”
‘I want to be there for you.’ Daken took a breath, then another, and another, until he felt he had it all under control again. He needed – God.
“Get me out of here,” he whispered. If she left him to his own devices, he’d call Johnny. They’d fallen into old habits quickly – exchanging messages as soon as Daken had woken up the day after Johnny’s visit, a comfortable back and forth that made him breathe easier – but this would be too much for Johnny. Too much darkness to face. Daken didn’t want him to battle these things for him: Johnny was bright and kind and he’d deflate under the pressure of this damn void that was taking Daken’s life again. He’d do it, because that was just who he was; but Daken didn’t want to saddle him with such horrors.
He didn’t want to turn Johnny into a crutch for his trauma. Johnny didn’t deserve that.
He followed Laura out of his room; Gabby was peering at the corridor from her door, and she opened it wide when she saw them, her little face crunched up with worry. He winked weakly as Gabby approached him just as carefully as their sister. He could read her easily: she wanted to fling herself at him but she didn’t dare to, mindful of his state. So he held out his arms, willing a smile to form on his face. The little one deserved some peace of mind; he knew how worried she was about him.
She hugged him then. Not too tightly – just right. He held her back and fluffed her hair, unbelievably grateful for her presence, for her decision to bring him under her fierce wing.
He met Laura’s gaze over Gabby’s head; his sister seemed to be contemplating something, her gaze flickering between them. At the question in his eyes, she cocked her head.
“Let’s take a walk outside,” she said. “It’s a sunny day.”
“Yes!” Gabby exclaimed, jumping up and down, her voice muffled by his chest. “Light and air! Hank said you needed that!”
“He did,” he agreed, brushing her hair. But it was the middle of the afternoon: classes were over; there would be students about.
He hadn’t cared about shocking the children, before. But just the previous day he’d gone for a jog before dinner, thankful that he was finally out of that wretched med bay, that things seemed to be moving in some direction… and he’d spotted Zach some ways off the path.
He was with other kids – boys his age. Friends, Daken hoped. All with a slightly damaged look that it tore at him to see on Zach too. The morose ones, the outcasts, those the X-Men seemed to be too tired to care for. The rebels.
Zach had spotted him, too. He’d crunched up his nose and a whiff of anger and jealousy had reached Daken and then he’d turned on his heels abruptly, left his friends there. The same reaction from the day before, in the med bay – when Johnny had said he and Daken were friends.
Daken didn’t need to know Zach as well as he regrettably did to know that Zach was annoyed because he felt abandoned. He’d clung to Daken, in those wretched Death Seed-tinged weeks, only to be left off at the school like garbage when Daken didn’t need him anymore. Then Daken was back and instead of looking for him, he’d preferred the company of others.
And it was for the best, that Zach believed in this version of events. His affection was trauma-induced, and Daken would rather die than encourage him.
Then again, perhaps, if Zach were to see him again, with much more company – he’d distance himself more from Daken. A sense of betrayal would cut all remaining ties.
“You know what,” Daken said, ignoring the pang in his chest and Laura’s pursed lips as she sensed something was amiss, “Let’s make an outing of it.”
“Yes!” Gabby cheered, hugging him tightly. “Can we do a picnic? Can we tell Jimmy? And Jubilee? And, and –” she kept on firing off suggestions, and he laughed and agreed to everything. Once she was on board, there wasn’t anything anyone could do to stop this. They’d have a damn feast.
He resolutely ignored the way his stomach churned.
Their impromptu party consisted of himself, Laura, Gabby; Jubilee, her spawn and the ex-boyfriend; Lorna and Jimmy; LeBeau with his wife; and Old Logan, slowly recuperating from his adamantium poisoning.
‘Have fun!’ Johnny had texted him. Daken ached for him, for his presence; but he’d decided not to pollute him, and he’d stick to the plan.
Have fun. If only Johnny knew how far removed from that concept Daken could be, on a day like this. This was just a distraction, a way to take his mind off what was happening miles from here; and if he happened to shatter Zach’s heart too, all the better.
It wasn’t what he wanted Johnny to ever associate with.
Johnny hadn’t asked to be invited. Despite the easy rhythm they’d fallen into, they had yet to discuss seeing each other again. Talking like this was easy exactly because they weren’t together, their shared baggage unspoken. The things they’d said to each other in the med bay lingered, but weren’t mentioned again. It was like years before, but now Daken was set on never hurting Johnny again. And damn him if he didn’t make good on that promise.
“You know,” Lorna said lightly, sitting beside him on the grass. “Broodily staring off into the distance might scare them all off, but not me.” She produced a plastic box. “Egg salad?”
Because they were all walking on eggshells around him. “Cute, Lorna.” With a sigh, though, he accepted her offering, putting some of the questionable substance onto a plastic plate. “This is all so environment-friendly,” he noted.
“It’s biodegradable, you heathen,” she scoffed. “You think Hank would let them use real plastic?”
“Your friend’s a tyrant.” Banter was a pattern he could focus on; he didn’t know if Lorna was doing it on purpose, but he was grateful for it. He was especially grateful she’d lost that worried expression she’d worn all day prior and that morning, at the meeting.
Where she’d lost it, though, they’d all gained it – even Jimmy. News of Grey’s mission had spread, and while none had been present to witness his breakdown in the conference room, it didn’t take a genius to know he might be upset. Not to mention the despicable bags under his eyes and the haunted look he couldn’t manage to dispel.
Old Logan had even squeezed Daken’s shoulder with a stoic expression, and it had taken all of Daken’s self-control not to flinch at his resemblance with Logan.
He turned his thoughts away from Logan’s pained expression from that morning, in the conference room. It was just a reminder that this could have been avoided. He didn’t know what the hell Logan had thought he was playing at, leaving Romulus alive… hiding it from Daken…
He shouldn’t think about this. Logan was just an idiot; he wasn’t the enemy. He was just a clueless bastard.
Daken tuned in to his surroundings again. Gabby was playing with Jubilee’s kid, Shogo, and the woman’s ex-boyfriend, a sort of saint. Laura sat opposite from Daken: she was holding hands with Jubilee, but couldn’t seem to manage to relax into the woman’s embrace, too tightly wrapped in her worry for Daken. Jubilee didn’t seem to mind, though, and squeezed Laura’s hand every now and then, engrossed in conversation with Rogue and LeBeau, who’d come just because the latter was friends with both Laura and Jubilee. The newlyweds hadn’t engaged him past a polite greeting and some small talk, but that was good; his previous interactions with the both of them had been vicious, and he counted it as a victory that they were tolerating him for Laura’s sake.
A little to the side were Old Logan and Jimmy. Old Logan seemed content with simply sitting there, squinting his eyes at the sun – probably just happy to still be alive. Jimmy was another matter entirely; he seemed out of place, as if questioning his own presence. The alien’s slick smell clung to him like rot, but he seemed to have it all under control and, after all, the telepaths had vetted him.
Still, he wasn’t talking. It seemed he’d grown into a man of few words.
His own encounter with Daken, the day before, had been a brief affair. He’d thanked Daken for turning the X-Men’s eye on him, and Daken had gracefully accepted. They hadn’t mentioned that time Daken was sent to kill him, to dispose of the threat. The both of them knew it had been an inevitability.
Daken’s musings ground to a halt as he caught the scent of the one he’d set out to hurt. He braced himself; it wouldn’t be pretty. But it was for the best: for Zach’s best. Never more than in this moment, Romulus’ threat looming closer, had Daken been surer that Zach didn’t deserve to cling to Daken’s memory.
Daken had counted on being caught talking and laughing, so he turned to Lorna to make conversation, catching Laura’s gaze as he did so. His sister’s lips were thinly pressed together: she’d smelt Zach, too, and probably guessed what he was doing.
He couldn’t talk with Lorna, though, because she was rigid – her eyes twin slits of fury. “What the hell’s that?” she hissed, loud enough that conversation died out around them.
They all followed her line of sight. She was staring at none other than Zach, who stood at a few yards from them and was staring right back at them in challenge, his hands thrust in his pockets; his shoulders raised, chin tilted up.
He was looking directly at Daken. But Daken couldn’t look him in the eyes. Not because of shame, though that feeling gnawed at Daken’s insides at his mere presence.
But because – and fury was rushing hot in Daken’s veins at the sight, pulsing in his ears – the sunlight was caught by a metallic contraption around Zach’s neck.
A power dampener. Zach was wearing a fucking power dampener.
Notes:
Next: Daken’s plan backfires.
.
[The return of the power dampener! That monstrosity, I remind you, is canon. We never saw how they were going to resolve that, given Iceman was canceled and when it returned Zach was nowhere in sight, shipped off to that strange crossover with Spider-Man and Iron Fist.
What did you think about this chapter? Let me know, your comments make my day ^-^ ]
Chapter 29: Daken's plan backfires.
Notes:
Additional Warnings: suicidal thoughts and actions, child in distress. Also, keep the tags in mind.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
29.
The change in Daken was immediate.
One moment, he was wearing the tortured expression that had clung to him ever since that morning, that had worried Laura sick and prompted her to break into his room. The next moment, his features filled with righteous purpose, the plan Laura supposed he’d concocted forgotten in the face of the injustice in front of him.
It should have crossed her mind that of course he didn’t know about the power dampener. He hadn’t been at the school to witness Zachary’s dangerous temper tantrums, and Laura had thought better than telling him, knowing how he would react to the X-Men’s solution – how he’d perceive Zachary’s predicament as his fault. She hadn’t wanted to burden him any further than he already was by his ordeal with the Death Seed, by the guilt gnawing at him.
But now Daken was here and it had only been a matter of time before Zachary vacated the high-collared shirts he used to hide the power dampener, or before the fabric gave way to show a glimpse.
And it seemed that Zachary was showing it off on purpose, as a sort of challenge to Daken. A way to catch his attention.
Well, he had. Daken turned onto Laura in an instant, his expression fierce. “Tell me it’s not what I think, Laura,” he growled – betrayal all over his face. It was clear that he couldn’t believe she’d known... but that her total lack of surprise was answer enough.
She couldn’t answer, words suddenly failing her. Wasn’t this what Logan himself had done to Daken – hide an unpleasant truth in an effort to protect him?
Jubilee squeezed her hand comfortingly, but it was Remy who answered. “It is what you think,” he said quietly, with a grimace. He didn’t like it just as none of them did, but it had had to be done. “The boy was a danger to himself, and to others -”
“Did you know about this?” Daken cut him off, addressing Laura. His jaw was clenched, his eyes ablaze with a feverish light – he was catching up. He knew what this meant and he knew why Zachary would be deemed a danger to others. Because of him, of what he’d done.
He shut his eyes.
She found her voice and sat up, a hand raised in an attempt to placate him. “I did. Daken -”
“Lorna,” Daken choked out, speaking over Laura. He turned towards Polaris, his head cocked to indicate Zachary. “Please,” he croaked.
Polaris was grim, green lights crackling around her. “Abso-fucking-lutely,” she snarled.
Before any of them could say anything more, she gestured abruptly in Zachary’s direction. The power dampener shimmered, melted, dropped to Zachary’s feet. The boy started, stared down at it; when he looked up again, his chin was trembling. There was a watery smile on his face and then – Laura braced herself – he let out a sob.
It was like being hit by a shock-wave. The sounds, the scents – it was all muffled, mundane. What an ordinary person might hear and smell.
Zachary was canceling their powers. He wasn’t doing it on purpose; he’s simply lost control of them.
There was a reason, although despicable, why he was wearing that wretched thing.
The children closer to Zachary were giving him a wide berth, retreating to the school in a hurry. Zachary was undergoing an ugly crying fit, features distorted by wracking sobs. Beside Laura, someone sharply took a breath and she turned: Daken sat white-faced, staring at the boy, a mixture of emotions flickering in his eyes – guilt the most prominent.
Damn it.
“What’s happening?” Polaris demanded. Her fingers were fanned out, as if she was trying to reach out for her powers and obviously failing. Jimmy was cradling his head, and Laura’s blood ran cold, recalling – far too late – that he was the host of an alien threat.
Jimmy saw the unnerved look she gave him, and shook his head.
“The Poison’s under control,” he muttered.
“Yes, good.” Polaris patted his arm. “But what’s happening? Why aren’t any of you more worried?”
Rogue bit her lower lip. “It’s the boy. He deletes and amplifies powers. ’aving trouble with that,” she grimaced.
To the side, Starsmore had yanked his polo up, to avoid scaring Shogo. Jubilee reached out to hold her son, cradling him to her bosom with a pinched expression – likely remembering when she’d lost her powers. Even Gabby was grimacing; Laura held out her arms, and Gabby went to her fast, a ball of trembling limbs. She hid her face against Laura’s stomach.
Remy sighed. “We just have to wait. Someone will come with another collar -”
“Absolutely not,” Daken snarled, shaking himself out of his grieving stupor. “I thought he was safer with you idiots!” He winced. “And you, you fucking -”
“I agree with Daken,” Polaris added, although she’d blanched. She laid a hand on his arm, and he let her. Laura didn’t dare to; he was furious with her right now. “I’m sure there’s another way -”
“Stay away from him!” Daken shouted, something else having caught his attention. Laura turned to follow his gaze; Pryde was coming out of the building, a collar in hand, her target clear. Daken scrambled to his feet and set off for the crying figure of the boy he’d avoided for so long, the child he was terrified of having hurt.
This would either go terribly wrong… or heal some wounds. But Daken was far from stable right now, and that worried Laura. Wincing, she shook lightly Gabby, but her sister was already disentangling herself from her.
“Go,” she muttered.
Laura went.
Daken had reached Zachary, but instead of going for him he moved to shield him from Pryde, arms spread wide, eyes fierce and almost crazed. Rachel, walking some feet behind Pryde, reached her partner with a few quick steps and grabbed her arm. Pryde turned abruptly, incredulity painted on the lines of her face; Rachel said something, quickly, too low for Laura to catch without her powers. Pryde stayed put.
Daken turned to finally face Zachary. The boy had slipped to his knees, and Daken knelt before him. His arms did a little awkward dance, as if he was pondering if to touch Zachary; but then he let them fall heavily to his sides.
When she was close enough to finally hear, Daken was quietly talking Zachary through a breathing exercise. Daken’s shoulders were set, rigid, his hands closed into white fists that pushed onto the dirt; but none of that tension showed in his voice. It was calm and measured and it obviously wasn’t the first time, as Zachary was calming down, his sobs turning into small hiccups.
“That’s it,” Daken praised the boy. “Very good, Zach, you’re doing great.” A vein pulsed on the nape of his neck, all his muscles taut with self-loathing – Laura knew the signs. And yet he went on, focusing only on the child in front of him. “Now, as we practiced, remember?” Daken shuddered, but his voice kept steady. “One, two -”
Zachary exhaled, his shaking body relaxing minutely, his breathing under control now. Laura felt a tingle at the tips of her toes, almost there… but then it was gone.
“Almost,” Daken said. Zach crunched up his nose, tears-streaked cheeks reddening. “It’s all right, you’re doing great,” Daken murmured. “Let’s try again. One, two -”
Zachary exhaled and the world burst to life again, so starkly that Laura had to take a step back. Scents filled her nostrils and noise came back to her ears, so she knew, without taking her eyes off the duo, that they’d gathered somewhat of an audience. And Daken did too, the small jerk of his head a sure sign that he smelt Logan standing at a few yards from them.
Or perhaps Daken had smelt Iceman – if the way he suddenly got to his feet and positioned himself to stand just between the man and Zachary was anything to go by.
Pryde spoke up. “That was… greatly appreciated. Zach, if you’d wear your collar again...” The boy finally opened his puffy red eyes, clearly pleading with Daken. But there was no need for pleading.
Daken turned to stare daggers at Pryde. “Are you out of your fucking mind?” he hissed. The angle allowed Laura to see his grimace. “ What is this?”
Pryde sighed. “Look, you saw how it is. He can’t control his powers, and we can’t go around fearing he’ll delete ours. This school is constantly under attack, we have a duty to our students -”
“Save for him, apparently.” Polaris had reached them, and she looked just as furious as Daken. “I understand the problem, but is a power dampener really the answer?”
“No, they like to hit him too,” Daken spat. Laura could feel Iceman’s full-bodied flinch even from this distance. “Real heroes, aren’t they?”
“Excuse me,” Pryde snapped, coming closer to them – her partner lingering behind her. Others were approaching, moving slowly, still feeling their powers returning. “We’re doing all we can. Zach’s in therapy, but we can’t just stand by for all the time it will take him to overcome all the shit you put him through!”
Daken recoiled, eyes downcast – the adrenaline and worry and fury giving way to the guilt that was flooding him, that he’d managed to keep at bay up until this moment. He moved to leave, but Zachary shot his arm outward, to yank at Daken’s jeans. Daken stood frozen, gaze fixed on the hand closing around the fabric; they all kept still.
In the silence that ensued, Zachary’s small whimper was a stark punch to the gut. “You’re leaving again. Why? I thought you cared. I almost thought you didn’t, but you do.” With his free hand, he reached out for the collar that Polaris had wrenched from him. He knew who to thank for it; Polaris would have freed him anyway, perhaps, but Daken had asked her, and the boy had seen that. He’d seen how Daken had reacted upon seeing the power dampener.
Daken was visibly keeping it together just barely, a moment away from coming apart at the seams. He was tightly coiled, so pale Laura would have wondered about his blood circulation if she couldn’t have heard his heartbeat. He bore that same heart-shattering expression she’d witnessed when she’d found him in his safe-house, when he was beating himself over what he’d done to Zachary. Laura had been right: with their picnic, he’d been trying to impress upon Zachary that he was unimportant.
But seeing him so defeated had shattered something inside Daken, made him reconsider and come to the boy’s rescue. And now he was here – and Zachary needed an answer.
“I care,” Daken said quietly. Zachary took a shaky breath. “I care that I’ve done you wrong, Zach.”
Zachary sniffled, shook his head vehemently. “You didn’t! It’s all lies, it’s what they think!”
“Zach.” Pryde took a few steps towards them, the collar swinging by her side as she walked. She stopped when she saw Daken’s glower. “You’ve been talking about this. With your therapist,” she said pointedly. “Haven’t you? You went cold turkey from MGH. You aren’t controlling your powers -”
“Because I hate you people!” Zachary snapped, wiping at the snot under his nose. “Because you don’t understand -”
“Because you aren’t facing the fact that you were kidnapped, Zachary,” Rachel spoke up, coming to stand beside Pryde. She crouched, her head cocked to the side. “It’s all tangled in there, I know.” She placed a hand on her chest. “We didn’t look after you as we should have. You feel as if Daken saved you from us -”
“He did,” Zachary snapped. Daken cursed under his breath in Japanese, ‘kuso.’ Then he sat down, eye-level with the boy – every movement screaming unease at having to do this here, out in the open, with so many witnesses.
“I thought so too,” he said, horribly quietly, making Laura’s hairs stand on end. Zachary looked up strangely, registering the eerie change in Daken’s voice. “When a monster took me under his wing, I thought he was saving me. I was alone and I couldn’t have survived on my own and I thought that everything he did was for my sake, but it wasn’t, Zach. I did kidnap you. I didn’t accidentally find you on the streets, I was keeping tabs on you. I took you from their care -”
“Some care!” Zachary snarled. “Man, you’re not a monster, okay? I’m fine, see?” He spread his arms to show he was physically fine.
“You’re not fine.” Daken’s voice was straining at the edges. “You can’t even control your powers now, and that’s because of me. I used you for my gain. I hurt you -”
“I’m fine! You never even touched me!” Zachary insisted. Daken shuddered violently, and that finally gave the boy pause, made him consider the man in front of him and his words. “Man, you okay?” He reached out gingerly, but Daken recoiled.
“I did,” Daken choked out, ignoring the question and Zachary’s hurt expression. Daken swayed, landed a hand against the dirt to keep himself upright. Laura moved to help him, consequences be damned, but he spoke again. “I did, didn’t I? I hit you, I -” His voice broke.
Laura held her breath. He hadn’t told her that. He’d told her he hadn’t harmed the boy, though the possibility of having almost done so ate at him -
Rachel made an aborted motion, going for his arm, but then she let her hand land upon her thigh.
“I knew it!” Pryde seemed ready to pounce on him, but Rachel shot to her feet to hold her back. “You hit him, and you have the nerve to attack Bobby for that?”
Daken slammed a hand against his mouth, keening. Laura stood, uncertain. What was happening? He hadn’t been lying to her, she’d have smelt it –
“Kitty, stop,” Rachel said. “He’s remembering now, he’s recalling it right now. It wasn’t him, Kitty!”
“What?” Pryde snarled.
“It’s true,” Zachary spoke up. He’d blanched, and he was looking at Daken as if he’d never seen him before. “It was the Death Seed, you know that! I could always sense it. I’ve told you this!” he added frantically. “When it got bad he threw himself into the secure room. He’s never, like, hit me hard or anything – Jesus Christ!”
An iron pang hit Laura’s nostrils and her heart almost stopped, her body moving futilely to stop what was already done.
“Oy gevalt!” Pryde wheezed, mouth agape. Daken dropped down on the grass – his tidy new hairstyle made it easier to see the tip of his wrist claw protruding from the top of his head.
Polaris was at his side in an instant, kneeling and angling herself to hide him – at least partially – from a wide-eyed, white-faced Zachary. Laura stood, uncertain whether her own help would be well-received, and watched Polaris’ hands dance awkwardly by Daken’s head. “Daken?” the woman whispered, fingers gingerly brushing the hair around the claw tip. “Can you hear me? Can you retract your claw?”
Daken flinched, half-rolling away from her.
He was still breathing. His breath stuttered around the claw stuck into the roof of his mouth, making the words he was blabbering almost unintelligible – it seemed Latin.
Laura knew those words.
She whirled to face the entrance. “Get him to Hank!”
Kurt teleported beside them immediately, Logan in tow. Their father bent to scoop Daken up and it didn’t matter what had happened, it didn’t matter that Daken would hate her even more for allowing that. She saw that Logan needed to feel useful in this moment of shock; and she needed to stay here, assess the damage.
She nodded at Logan – his hand squeezed Daken’s arm, his eyes widening as he caught Daken’s uncoordinated words, now turned to Japanese as he struggled weakly – and Kurt took them away.
Taking a deep breath, Laura tuned in to her surroundings – Pryde, still staring at where Daken had lain; Polaris, wiping her blood-stained fingers on the grass; Rachel, her gaze fixed on Zachary, a grimace on her face… Zachary.
The boy had fallen hard on his behind, and he, too, was staring at the spot where once lay Daken, the grass dark with blood. He looked about to feel ill.
“Is he gonna be okay?” he asked with a small voice.
Laura shook herself. The boy needed reassurance, needed to know it wasn’t his fault. “Of course,” she told him firmly – she told herself, too. “He has a healing factor, remember?”
“Right.” Zachary squinted his eyes – another crying fit looming ahead, his heartbeat wild, his breathing labored. “Gimme that thing, teach.”
He held out a hand. Wordlessly, Pryde gave him the power dampener.
Polaris made a sound of protest. “That’s not necessary -”
“It is,” Zachary snarled as he put the collar on. “I could lose control again. And take out all your powers. Including his healing factor.” The collar sealed itself with a metallic clink. “I’m gonna get better,” he said decisively. He nodded to himself, his mouth a thin line. “Yeah. But until that, I’m gonna keep this on. Don’t you try and melt it again. Though it was awesome.” His features crumpled and he sniffled. “Okay?”
Polaris nodded, her gaze soft and sad. “Of course.”
“Right.” Zachary went to his feet. He was shaking like a leaf – seeing someone stab themselves in the head would be traumatic enough, but Zachary knew and cared about Daken. Laura only hoped the boy hadn’t put two and two together.
The kid half-stumbled away, but Rachel was there to hold him up. “Let’s get you to your room, yes? You should rest. Do you want me to reschedule with your therapist?”
Zachary’s muffled ‘yes’ haunted Laura as Rachel lead the boy away. She looked around, defeated: others were leaving, thankfully not lingering on the scene. Iceman threw her one last glance – she saw clearly his grimace – and retreated inside, far before Rachel and Zachary reached the entrance.
Pryde was ashen. “Laura. I’m sorry about -”
“Pryde.” Laura took a shuddering breath, steeled herself. “You heard Rachel. He wasn’t himself -”
“Fuck, Laura, of course we won’t turn our back on your brother!” Pryde run a hand through her hair; she looked just as rattled as Laura felt. “I mean, I’ll most definitely keep Zach the hell away from him but that was -” Mercifully, Pryde bit her tongue. “We’ll still help him, Laura. You have my word.”
Relief almost sagged Laura down. “Yes. Thank you. I… appreciate that.”
Pryde gave her a small, sympathetic smile. “Try to breathe, Laura. Try to breathe.” With that, she turned on her heels and left, likely to assess the situation – perhaps to check on Jean and Braddock, too. Laura hoped they’d be back soon.
Oh, God.
She smelt Jubilee’s comforting scent before she found herself held tightly from behind. She let out a shaky breath, horribly grateful for her presence. Gabby hugged her too, shaking slightly. She’d seen. Laura hated that Gabby had seen that.
Laura had never seen it, either. Oh, she’d guessed about it, and witnessing reckless behavior was one thing, but this – this was different. Even seeing him ready to die, in his mind, days before, hadn’t borne the same significance to her. And when he’d tried to do the same, in the Soteira facility, he hadn’t been himself –
“It’s all right,” Jubilee murmured behind her. “I promise, it’s going to be all right.” Laura didn’t answer, just tightened her hold on Jubilee’s arm, and around Gabby.
She met Polaris’ gaze: the woman knew exactly what had happened. It had been no accident; Daken hadn’t ‘lost control’ in his shock as apparently new memories of his time under the influence of the Death Seed resurfaced, perhaps triggered by what Zachary had said, by what he himself was saying just before.
She hoped Zachary would think it had been an accident.
Jimmy was next, coming to stand beside her, his gaze fixed on the rapidly reddening patch of grass. Then came Old Logan, moving stiffly; and Remy, too, came closer, his expression as comforting as it always was.
“Courage, petite,” he said. “Jean’s the best. She’ll fix this.”
Laura nodded, a lump in her throat. Jean would help. She had to.
Laura knew the impulse that had taken Daken. She’d fought it herself, for so long. She knew he needed help – but she knew nothing would happen if he didn’t want it. If he didn’t realize that doing that wasn’t the answer.
If he didn’t forgive himself first.
If he didn’t stop thinking he was one step away from turning into the monster that had destroyed his life.
Jimmy turned to look at her. “It was deliberate, wasn’t it? He tried to kill himself.”
Daken had done it to protect Zachary, that was still at the stage of defending the abuse. Perhaps he’d even counted on the fact that if Zachary lost control again, right in that moment, shocked by the scene in front of him – he’d stay dead.
‘Quod sum eris,’ he’d been whispering, trying to whisper really, his synapses damaged by the claw embedded in his brain. ‘Watashi ga shindemo sore wa okoranaideshou,’ she thought he’d been saying, as their father held him in his arms.
‘I am what you will be.’ The words that Logan had told her Romulus used to taunt him with. It was only natural to think that the monster would keep telling them to Daken too.
And, if she’d heard correctly: ‘That won’t happen if I die.’ Confronted with the knowledge that he’d been far more physical with Zachary than what he remembered, there really was only one thing that Daken had thought of doing, his already horrific remorse now eating him alive.
Laura hung her head, and she didn’t answer Jimmy.
There was no need to, anyway.
Notes:
Next: A conversation in the med bay.
.
[Daken did hit Zach. It is, regrettably, canon, and one of the reasons why I hated Sina Grace’s Iceman with a passion. Why are we hearing about it just now? Well, there’s no consensus on what recovering from a Death Seed possession is like but considering Daken’s trauma, this is one of the things where his brain would go “nope!”, in my humble opinion. Yes he had some vague recollection of training Zach but he blanked on some details. Not the only things he blanked on, but spoilers!
Let me know what you think! Your comments keep me going ^-^ ]
Chapter 30: A conversation in the med bay.
Notes:
IMPORTANT Updates are on hold until further notice, my laptop died and it's being repaired.
Additional Warnings: discussion of suicide, mentions of filicide, abuse apologism.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
30.
“You should have burned my body,” Daken muttered, eyes shut.
Logan started. He was about to leave the med bay; Hank had done all he could, gently coaxing Daken’s claw out of his skull and medicating the closing wound. They’d put Daken – who’d been drugged into unconsciousness when it had become clear he’d fight Hank’s ministrations – in the old secure room, and then Hank had left the two of them alone. Logan had sat vigil until Daken’s eyelids had moved; at that point, Logan had known he wouldn’t be welcome, and he’d got up.
Now he stood, uncertain – Daken looked so frail and young, laying there. So utterly lost. Logan ascribed to confusion Daken’s words as he came to; he didn’t want to think about what they meant. Nevermind that they confirmed what he’d said after stabbing himself, his behavior as Hank tried to help him. Nevermind that just a few days prior, while trying to get him back to his body, Jean had said his son was ‘letting go.’
Was his boy suicidal?
Logan fought the constriction in his chest, cleared his throat. “You’re awake. Good. Want me to call Laura? She’s right outside.” He wondered why she hadn’t come in yet. She’d looked distraught, pale and thin-lipped. He was grateful for Jubilee’s presence beside her.
Daken exhaled. “… No.”
Logan frowned. “Lorna, then? Um, Jimmy? They’re outside, too.” He had no idea how close they were to Daken, but certainly closer than Logan.
“No. Sit down.” Daken clenched his jaw. Logan took a deep breath.
“You… remember where you are, yes? What happened lately? You told me, huh, you wouldn’t speak to me again –”
“I know what I said,” Daken said tiredly. “Sit the fuck down, Logan, I can’t make you.” He moved his hands to make his point – his hands, tied to the bed and encased by adamantium. For his sake, Hank had said. Just until Jean came back and got a look at him.
Logan sat down on the plastic chair by the bed. He was hit by the overwhelming urge to touch his son’s arm – but he knew that, handcuffs or not, Daken would make him pay for that. So he sat, cradling his hands in his lap. Normally, he’d have welcomed this opportunity to talk, after his fuck-up… but what if Daken wasn’t quite himself right now, and would tear at him later for taking advantage of his state?
Betsy would have chastised him for such a thought. ’Ro and Kurt would have supported her. Daken was a grown man, not a boy – capable of making his own decisions.
But when such decisions entailed stabbing himself in the head, could one really trust his thought process?
“Why didn’t you burn my body?” Daken asked, finally opening his eyes. They were glazed, staring straight ahead. Logan shifted, uncomfortable.
“Son -”
“When you killed me,” Daken clarified softly, as if there was any need to – that damn day emblazoned in Logan’s mind. “You should have burned my body. Then the twins wouldn’t have brought me back to life, and I wouldn’t have been possessed by that thing.” He squinted his eyes shut, again. “I wouldn’t have -” His breath caught.
Logan felt overcome by sadness. He’d seen what had happened outside, what Daken had recalled he’d done under its influence. He’d heard Daken’s broken mutterings as Hank tried to attend to him. ‘Quod sum eris.’ For Logan, it had always meant becoming a weapon, embracing Romulus’ plans for him.
For Daken, it seemed, it had taken on a more visceral meaning. He was… horrified at the thought of becoming like Romulus – turning his training, his abuse upon another child.
“You’re not Romulus,” he assured his son. It was, perhaps, the wrong thing to say.
Daken laughed – in this deranged, quite not there way. “You’d know, wouldn’t you?” he wheezed. “Oh, Logan. You know nothing.”
Logan dragged his chair closer. “Tell me then. I’m here for you -”
“I don’t have to tell you anything.” Daken turned his head away, pressed his cheek against the pillow. “Why didn’t you burn my body, Logan?” His voice broke. He sounded like a little boy and Logan’s heart clenched.
“I wanted to give you a proper burial,” he exhaled, wringing his hands. He recalled what Laura had told him – that Daken had held a Shinto funeral for him. Logan hadn’t even done that, he’d just dumped Daken into a hole and carved a headstone. He’d never known his son, had he? “It was the least I could do -”
“Because you’d killed me?” Daken cut him off, quietly. Logan clenched his hands, overcome by guilt. “That was what I wanted, you know. You can stop beating yourself over it.” Daken turned to watch him – his bright blue eyes finally snapped into focus. Logan jerked, startled.
“Son?” he breathed, stunned. Surely he didn’t mean -
“I made you do it,” Daken murmured. He didn’t register how he was taking Logan apart, or perhaps he didn’t care. “Told you all manners of nonsense, used my pheromones, beat that kid bloody.” He shuddered, his eyes unfocusing for a moment. A grimace formed on his lips. “See? You can blame what I did to Zach on the Death Seed, but Evan was all me, Logan. A monster. There was nothing else you could have done, really. Rabid dogs get to be shot down.”
“You… hit Evan to make me kill you?” Logan whispered, horrified. He felt tears stinging his eyes, threatening to spill. His boy wanted to die. He’d wanted to die for years. And Logan hadn’t noticed.
“I swear to God, if you make this about you again, Logan.” Daken clenched his teeth. “I said it wasn’t your fault. You can rest easier now,” he said almost off-handedly, and oh –
He was reassuring Logan, in some fucked up way. Relieving him of his guilt.
Logan wouldn’t let him. How many times had he taken the easy way out – giving up on his son, taking everything at face value? Thinking it wasn’t worth it?
“Why should I rest easier when my son wants to die?” he choked. He held out a hand – slowly, hesitantly. Daken stared at it, at him, but he said nothing, something fearful and manic and so utterly weary in his gaze. Logan placed a hand on his son’s arm.
Daken made a small sound. “We’ve had this conversation, Logan. There was nothing you could have ever done. Nothing to save. There hasn’t been for a long time.” He shuddered. “He took care of that, you know. Carved me to his liking.”
Romulus. Logan’s chest ached painfully. He should have done better, and sooner. He should have saved his son before these wretched thoughts took root into Daken’s mind – before he started to believe that there was no salvation possible for him.
“Lost my purpose, after… you know.” Daken shrugged, staring ahead – seeing something Logan couldn’t see. “I tried, Logan. I tried so hard. But I was trapped. I realized I’d never be free. And I thought I should just die, then. Indulged Creed, followed his little plan, brought you there where he wanted you. Where I wanted you. I guess I thought it would be poetic justice. You killing me.” He shut his eyes. “I guess that’s what he’d always wanted. His sacrificial lamb, struck on the altar of my utter devotion.” He chuckled. “Pathetic, no?”
Logan fought the lump in his throat. By God, he’d do his son right this time. He’d support him. “You ain’t pathetic,” he choked. “He’s pathetic. Bringin’ you up like a damn weapon… Hurtin’ a child because an adult’s too much work.”
Daken opened his eyes, stared at him. “That’s exactly what I did, Logan.”
“No, it ain’t. You’re nothing like him, son. You felt you had no other choice, with Evan. And with Zach, you weren’t -” He broke off as Daken shuddered and shook his head.
“Quit this nonsense. Don’t make excuses for me. I know what I did,” Daken snarled. “The reason doesn’t mean I get a pass for doing it. Don’t invalidate my personal growth to make me feel better, it won’t work. It will only make me want to stop talking to you.”
“I’m sorry, son.” Logan rubbed at Daken’s arm – his son let him, his jaw clenched. Logan sighed. He didn’t want to estrange Daken. He wanted to help his son, and – it seemed that Daken was letting him. He was talking with Logan… they were talking. “I won’t do it again.”
“You will. All you can ever do,” Daken said, no bitterness in his voice. Just a statement of fact.
“I’m workin’ on it.” Logan bit the inside of his cheek. Hell, he’d die trying. “I have people ready to smack my head real hard if I don’t.”
Daken rolled his eyes. “Is that supposed to make me feel better? That you’d tell my shit to others if I keep talking to you?”
Logan struggled to keep his features blank, not to show his abject relief at hearing Daken mention so casually the future. It meant it wasn’t absolute, his death wish. “Son, I won’t repeat anything you don’t want me to say.”
Daken sighed. “I guess they all know I’m fucked in the head anyway.” He moved his hands experimentally inside the handcuffs, though he didn’t unsheathe his claws. Daken’s phone – one of Jubilee’s, if Logan wasn’t mistaken – chirped from the nightstand, where Logan had put it. Daken shut his eyes.
They lulled into silence. Logan sat awkwardly, his hand still moving over Daken’s arm – Daken had given no indication that he should stop, he hadn’t protested, and it was stupid, but Logan almost felt as if the small gesture was comforting.
He didn’t know what to say. He knew he wanted to say that suicide wasn’t the answer and all would solve but Daken would throw him out if he dared saying something like that… if he belittled Daken’s feelings again. His son obviously felt strongly about all this – about Romulus, about Zach – and Logan wasn’t equipped to make that conversation. Jean, perhaps. Whenever she came back.
Daken stirred. “I shouldn’t have done that,” he murmured. “I shouldn’t have made you kill me.”
Logan stilled. That was a loaded sentence, and he didn’t quite know how to respond. He couldn’t very well say it was all right.
Daken didn’t seem to be waiting for an answer; he turned his head away, speaking quietly. “I was so angry. I couldn’t do anything on my own and you’d taken everything from me, my revenge, my life, my purpose. I was beginning to feel – to realize -” he clenched his teeth. “Things. I was realizing things about myself, about my past. Hating myself.”
He’d said that, as he confronted Logan that day. He had said he hated himself. And Logan had dismissed it, dismissed him. Told him that life was a fucking ‘dance’. How conceited and reductive.
“I’m sorry I didn’t listen to you, son.”
Daken shook his head. “I wasn’t ever going to sit you down and expose myself, Logan. Not back then.” ‘Told you all manners of nonsense,’ he’d said earlier, about that day. But at least the bit about hating himself had been real; he’d just admitted it.
“And now?” Logan bit his tongue as soon as the words left his mouth. Shit, he’d fucked it up –
But Daken didn’t scream bloody murder, he didn’t throw him out. His eyelids fluttered shut and then opened, his gaze fixed on the wall. “… I don’t know.”
“That’s all right.” Logan squeezed his arm. “I don’t want you to tell me anything you don’t want to, son.” He ached to know everything, but his son was a private creature and what he was hiding wasn’t a walk in the park. Just a few days before Logan would have jumped at this opportunity but Betsy had made him see reason.
“That would be a first.” Daken laughed a little. His phone chirped again and he winced. “… He didn’t bring me up,” he breathed.
Logan started. He’d surmised as much, from some things Daken had said to Zach outside, but he hadn’t thought Daken would just tell him…
How much of it was his willingness to talk and how much was it his unwillingness to think about who was texting him?
Logan took a chance. “Romulus?”
Daken shuddered at the name. “Yes. He dropped me on a pair’s doorstep. In Japan. A rural area. I don’t think he was going to show up again if no powers had manifested.” His eyes glazed over, maybe pondering what-should-have-beens. Always a dangerous game, that; Logan would know.
“How long were you with them?” He didn’t ask information about the family; he sensed it had all ended in blood. Daken would tell him later. Maybe. If it didn’t hurt too much.
“Ten years.” Daken shut his eyes. “They were doomed from the moment they laid their eyes on me. She was – it was complicated. But he was a good man.” He exhaled; Logan fought an ugly surge of jealousy. It was good that his son had known love, for a while. “He killed himself rather than shooting me, you see.” Logan stilled, alarmed. “It wouldn’t have made a difference,” Daken continued, grimacing. “I’d have healed. But he chose me.”
“Rather than shooting you?” Logan repeated quietly. Daken opened his eyes, stared right at Logan – through Logan.
“I did bad things, Logan. I told you there was nothing to be saved.”
“That’s not true,” Logan rushed to say. “I know you’re doing good for yourself. Getting better. This thing that’s happening, it’s gonna pass, Daken. We’re going to fight it together, I promise -”
“I can see you believe that.” Daken clenched his teeth. “Afterwards, when they were dead. I was alone and I wouldn’t have survived. Or I thought so, anyway. And he came and he took me in and I thought it was wonderful, that someone would take care of me. But he just wanted to use me. Ring any bells?” He looked at Logan pointedly, daring him to contradict him.
Zach. Of course it all came back to Zach. “I’m sure that wasn’t the same.” He didn’t dare to ask what Romulus’ tutelage had entailed – but he knew Daken couldn’t have done any of that, or Zach would have been far more damaged. “ Zach said you fought the Death Seed. And I’m so proud of that, son. Of you. You didn’t give in -”
“I could have!” Daken snarled. “Can’t you see? I have that capacity, in me. He warped me, but I was already a hole. All I do is hurt – God!” he wailed, when his phone chirped again. Logan twitched, eyed it nervously – his hand moving on its own, running soothing circles on Daken’s arm.
“Want me to take a look, son? See who it is?”
“I know who it is.” Daken’s voice broke. “It’s Johnny.”
“Johnny Storm?” Logan said cautiously. He knew that Storm had visited, the other day. He didn’t quite know what was between them, but he guessed Storm was Daken’s friend, just as much as Lorna. He’d certainly looked torn enough when Daken had pulled his stunt, years ago.
“Yes.” Daken seemed to shrink, his gaze sadder than before. He looked away. “Someone must have told him – Rogue. They used to be teammates. I’m going to kill that woman,” he said weakly.
“He’s worried about you, then,” Logan pointed out sensibly. “Want me to answer? Tell him you’re not up to talking?”
“He’ll just worry more.” Daken shut his eyes. “I knew this wasn’t right. I knew it -” He rolled to his side, a small sob escaping his lips. Logan stood up, feeling utterly out of his depth.
“Son?” he said stupidly. Daken shook his head. Thinking now or never, Logan sat down on the bed, moving his hand to his son’s shoulder. Daken stilled, held his breath. “I know it’s overwhelming, people carin’ about us. But they help, son. It’s a good thing -”
“He shouldn’t worry about me,” Daken gasped. He was crying, silent tears streaking his cheeks. Logan felt touched that Daken would let him see. He’d be worthy of his son’s trust. “I hurt him, and I’ll hurt him again, and I don’t want to -”
“It’s their choice to make,” Logan said. “Yes, worry about it, try your damn best not to. But they have the right to decide when it’s enough, son. They have the right to decide they care about you more than about what you’ll throw at them. They have a right to want to be there for you.”
“Not Johnny.” Daken turned his head against the pillow, muffling his whimpers. “He’s important. He can’t – I can’t hurt him again, I couldn’t bear it -”
Logan got the feeling, suddenly, that they weren’t talking about friendship anymore. Should he draw attention to it? Give his grieving, suicidal son fucking relationship advice?
“I don’t want him to see me like this,” Daken muttered, desperate. “I don’t want to use him to feel better, he doesn’t deserve -”
Ah, fuck it.
“You know, I used to think that too. Thought I’d only hurt whoever cared for me.” Logan hesitated; Daken was shaking his head, but he was listening. “Your momma set me straight. She was a hurricane, she was. She wouldn’t take my shit.” His voice softened. Daken turned his head to look at him, his eyes filled with tears.
“That’s the wrong example, Logan,” he choked. “Mother died because of you. Of us,” he amended, and maybe he did so because Logan had winced, and that in itself spoke volumes to Logan.
“She did,” Logan agreed, his heart clenching painfully. He still remembered her – so beautiful, and iron-willed. “And I’ll never forgive myself for that. But I know what she’d have told you. She’d have told you this is bullshit. She’d have told you to follow your heart.”
Daken didn’t answer, kept sniffling quietly. He was a mess of jumbled thoughts, a ball of hurt, and perhaps this wasn’t the right moment to talk about love. Not until he got himself together. God knew love wasn’t a crutch to hold onto, to pretend it all was fine. But he’d be damned if he didn’t tell his son that there was some hope at the end of the tunnel; that he was worthy of that too.
“Son. It’s going to be all right. We’re going to fix everything, I promise -”
“Don’t make promises you can’t keep, Logan.” Daken cleared his throat, wiped his face on the pillow. He made to sit up and Logan hastened to help him, put the pillow behind his back. The chains holding Daken’s hands to the bed rattled and Daken grimaced. “You can’t fix what I did to Zach.”
Logan sighed. “Son -”
“I heard you the first time. It’s all here.” Daken cocked his head, to show he’d remember. “Now stop talking, please.”
Logan opened his mouth – to tell him what? To keep pushing? To throw away all the progress they’d made? - and closed it.
Daken leant his head against the pillow. “Thank you,” he said quietly. “For this, too.”
Logan cleared his throat. “Anytime, son.”
In the silence that ensued, the phone chirped again. Daken bit his lip, his gaze shifting rapidly, and then he seemed to come to a resolution. “Tell him I’ll call him later. Use your phone. Please.”
So that Logan wouldn’t read the messages, of course. Logan fished his phone out of his pocket and looked for Storm’s number; Hank had put every good guy’s contact information in the brand new phone he’d procured for Logan.
‘Kid’s rattled, but he’s breathing,’ he wrote to Storm. ‘Said he’ll call you later. We’re taking care of him.’ He re-read the message, then wrote ‘Daken’ instead of ‘Kid’ and hit send.
Storm’s response came half a second later. He must have been glued to his phone. ‘Thank you, Logan.’
When he looked up, Daken was staring at him. He seemed more sedated, or perhaps he’d managed to throw it all under the carpet. They sat there – in what Logan hoped he could call companionable silence. It wasn’t over, not by a long mile. His son was horribly hurt, and it would take time to get things right. But this… this right here… had been a first step. Logan was grateful for it.
Daken even relaxed minutely, his body losing some of that tightness. And Logan hoped.
It was at that point that a soft knock came. They both straightened up as the door gently opened and Jean’s scent hit their nostrils. Daken made to move, but he couldn’t, and he cursed. Logan turned, seeing her at the doorway through the glass.
“May I come in?” she called out. Logan nodded, watched her make her way towards them with some trepidation. She’d washed thoroughly and changed from her costume, he noticed; a thoughtful gesture Logan loved her for. She entered the secure chamber and gave them both a small smile. “How are you, Daken?” she said pleasantly.
Daken stared at her. “You wasted time showering?” His voice was tinged with incredulity, but Logan smelt he was touched.
“You were talking. I didn’t want to interrupt.” Jean crossed her arms.
“You didn’t want to – What you have to say is more important!” Daken spluttered. Logan had to agree, at least on some level. Especially with the way her findings would send Daken on edge.
Jean leaned against the wall. “I’m sorry I didn’t come sooner, Daken. But I wanted to be absolutely sure that what I’m about to tell you was true.” Daken visibly braced himself. “Romulus isn’t involved,” Jean said softly. “And we’re closing in on Roston.”
Daken exhaled a shuddering breath. He deflated completely, melting against the mattress – his features crumbled; he didn’t dare to hope. “Are you sure -?”
“A hundred percent.” Jean smiled. “And we improved security on Romulus. He won’t leave for a long, long time.”
Daken let out a breathy, exhilarated, utterly free small laughter that had Logan’s heart swell with relief. His son would be all right. Jean was here now, and his son would be all right.
Daken regained some composure. “Are you going to help me now?”
Jean cocked her head. “I think you need to rest. I understand it was a straining day for you.” She held up a hand, sensing Daken’s oncoming protest. Logan himself had been about to speak. “But, if you feel up to it, we can start with something simple.”
“Yes, please,” Daken said quickly. “Please. I don’t want to feel like this anymore.”
“I know, Daken.” Jean’s eyes were full of understanding. “Logan, if you will -”
“Oh! Sure. Sorry.” Logan got up. He looked upon his son – his strong, strong son – and felt his chest ache with all he hadn’t said yet, all he’d managed to.
There would be time for that now. There was hope.
He left.
Outside, there was a small group of people. He went for his partners first, almost shaking with relief; lost himself in ’Ro’s comforting scent and Kurt’s strong arms around him. When he thought he could face Laura, he turned in their embrace to meet her gaze.
She was pale, his daughter. Still so shocked by what had happened. Beside her, Jubilee squeezed her hand; sitting at her feet, Gabby’s little face was crunched up with worry.
“He’ll get better,” Logan said – knowing it was true. Laura nodded.
“You… talked,” she said slowly. Logan felt a smile split his face. Yeah. They’d talked. And it had been good. He thought he’d made some difference. He thought he’d helped Daken, even if a little. Laura cocked her head. “Did you apologize?”
Logan’s face fell. He hadn’t told Daken about their misunderstanding. But he’d do it soon. He wanted to build some foundations first. And the fact that Daken had listened to him despite what he believed Logan to have done –
“I wanted to apologize,” Laura said. “To you.” Logan furrowed his brow. “It wasn’t right, what you did, but you did it to protect him. I –” She hung her head. “It was sanctimonious of me to think so lowly of you.”
“Oh, darlin’, no.” Logan extricated himself from his partners’ embrace, took a step towards her. She smelt awfully contrite. “You were right. It was wrong.” It was also not true, but this wasn’t the time for that.
Laura inhaled sharply. “Yes, you’re right. It was wrong. For me, too.” She turned on her heels and fled – Jubilee stumbling after her. Logan stared at their retreating figures, wondering what he’d done wrong now. Gabby gave him an unimpressed glance and then run after her sister too.
Betsy, who was standing just a few feet apart from the group, sighed. You’re getting the hang of this, Logan. I promise, she projected into his mind.
He turned to watch her. She’d showered, too. You think?
Oh, yes. She cocked her head. That was good, what you did in there.
You were listening? he asked, horrified. Daken wouldn’t like that.
Only at the end. It was good, she repeated, flashing him a reassuring smile. Then she sobered. Listen, we wanted to tell you. Romulus had no idea what we were talking about, he thought Roston was a ridiculous ant. But he did fight back, when Jean dug deep. She shuddered; Logan dreaded to think about what they’d found in the monster’s mind. Perhaps that was another reason why they’d both showered, other than to spare Daken Romulus’ scent. Logan, he managed to see Daken in Jean’s mind, Betsy said slowly. He was… delighted by the damage. And disgusting.
Logan saw red. He didn’t know what to expect, what Romulus could have even said, and he wasn’t going to ask. But his son was coming apart at the seams because of him, and it didn’t take a great deal of imagination to understand it had been fucking bad.
Yeah, Betsy said. But I left him a gift, she said viciously, and he’d never seen her so angry, and he’d seen her very angry. I put triggers in his mind. He’ll get lovely little shocks every time he turns his ugly mind towards your son.
Logan stared. She was almost shaking with righteous fury and she was magnificent.
Thank you, he managed to say – for Daken’s sake too. He doubted he’d be in the right state of mind to hear of this anytime soon… but he’d be, eventually.
And he’d know that he was surrounded by people who’d taken to him. They hadn’t killed Romulus for him – but this was almost better.
Or at least, Logan knew that he’d sleep easier knowing that the monster couldn’t even think about Daken anymore without getting hurt.
Talk about comeuppance.
Notes:
Next: Daken remembers something.
.
[This family is killing me.
I have many thoughts about Remender’s arc, mainly the fact that that man can’t write Daken for the life of him… and so I’ve always believed that Daken was sprouting nonsense to the purpose of making Logan kill him. How else do you drown someone in a mere puddle? Only if that person is more than willing.
This was another packed chapter! Let me know what you think, I love your comments! ^-^ I love to hear when you especially like a scene or the other, this is a labor of love ^-^ ]
Chapter 31: Daken remembers something.
Notes:
Apologies for the delay! My laptop died but fortunately I managed to save it. I lost everything though, so I had to rewrite this chapter… I find it a bit lacking, but I kept you waiting long enough!
The update schedule is going to change a bit due to real life! I don’t have a clear idea, for now I’ll try to update once a month and we’ll see how it goes.
Additional Warnings: suicidal thoughts, mentions of child abuse and child murder.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
31.
“Is there anything you want to talk about? Anything on your mind?” Jean Grey said gently.
She was sitting on the plastic chair beside his bed – the one Logan had sat upon while they talked.
The whole experience had been surreal, and Daken had wanted to strangle Logan a couple of times, especially when he’d mentioned Daken’s mother… but it was just muscle memory, what he’d been supposed to do for so long. In truth, some strange measure of relief had flooded his body while they picked at festering wounds; Logan had truly put in some effort, and Daken hadn’t been drained by the conversation. It had been strange and terrifying but not utterly unwelcome -
But the prospect of talking again sent his teeth on edge. He felt he’d talked enough for a lifetime. And what could he say, anyway? That he’d been right about himself? That the self-loathing had come back with a vengeance?
“I thought you’d get into my mind.” He settled for something neutral. That prospect worried him even more. But he’d asked her and he knew he needed it; he had to get rid of the void. He had to get rid of Romulus.
So maybe the monster wasn’t involved with what was happening, or so Grey said. That was a relief: there was just Roston to take care of, and he wouldn’t survive the full might of the X-Men.
But Romulus was still there – at the edges of Daken’s mind, leering. Tormenting him with a fundamental truth.
“In due time.” Grey cocked her head. “Your mind’s very complex, Daken, and you’re extremely upset right now. I don’t want to trigger anything.” She pointedly didn’t look at his encased hands, but he knew she was referring to that too. He wondered if she’d been briefed, or if she’d witnessed his attempted suicide through someone’s memories.
He’d tried to kill himself.
In front of Zach.
Fuck, Zach must be traumatized right now – not that he wasn’t already, thanks to fucking Daken. Daken should have done it somewhere else – somewhere more secluded. He should have made sure no one could treat him afterwards…
“Where are you right now?” Grey said lightly, but her body was very much alert, tense. She must be sensing something.
Where was he? Staring down a fucking pit of despair, again. Thinking about where to hide in order to make his death stick. And he was so fucking tired of this. Of the void governing his mood. Of the fear and the pain and the absolute certainty that there was a bundle of rot at his very core – one that Romulus and the fucking Death Seed had just nurtured. Like disgusting weed, a wretched disease.
He looked upon Jean Grey – this force of nature, this hell of a woman who’d just taken a look at the darkest depths of his mind and decided he was worth salvation. At this point, he didn’t even care if he was her pet project.
“I tried to kill myself,” he acknowledged. He hadn’t truly said it out loud, not until now. Not even as he discussed with Logan another moment when he’d sought death as the answer. He’d danced around it, yes – but he hadn’t actually said the words.
Grey leaned towards him, just a bit; a look of utmost attention on her features. “Do you want to tell me what happened?”
He wasn’t… sure, himself. Zach had been there and Daken had been battling the self-hatred, the worry. He’d seen himself in Zach, starkly: this poor boy he’d wronged, who was doing his best to defend Daken’s actions, to explain them; who looked up to Daken as a savior.
‘You never even touched me!’ Zach had said, and then…
Then, memories had flooded Daken. He’d thought he remembered everything that had happened under the influence of the Death Seed but evidently he didn’t, because there they were, sharp and unforgiving, images he must have just fucking repressed. Harsh shoves, the occasional kick in Zach’s behind. Nothing horrific, nothing on the monster’s level, but nausea had taken him again. What if this still wasn’t everything? What if someday he recalled something else and discovered he’d done something worse, something unforgivable? What he already knew he’d done was unforgivable enough but what if there was more? Zach’s panicked reassurances did nothing to assuage his fears because, simply, Zach couldn’t be trusted to be objective. Just as Daken had lied to himself for literal decades.
He’d lost it. He couldn’t live with himself, he knew he couldn’t fucking live with himself and the knowledge he’d hurt a kid just as he’d been hurt; he couldn’t live with turning into Romulus. He’d rather die.
So he’d tried to. Simple as that.
Not so simple, no. “I panicked,” he said, knowing how reductive that was. “I started remembering I hit Zach. How could I just remember now -?” he threw, as an aside, though he suspected the answer.
“Trauma,” Grey said immediately. “It was to be expected, really. You’ve been through trauma after trauma and it’s only natural your mind would try to protect you from something that was bound to trigger such a reaction.”
That was what he’d thought, yes. Though it unnerved him that she made that connection: that recalling such a thing would drive him to self-harm. But she’d been in his mind, hadn’t she? And – he shuddered – in Romulus’.
What had she seen there? He tried to discern if there was any pity in her gaze, but she was nothing if not professional, the picture of quiet concern. It filled him with unease to wonder whether she’d witnessed all the ways he’d been broken…
But no. This wasn’t – couldn’t – be about Daken, not right now. “How’s -” His voice cracked, he cleared his throat. “How’s Zach?” He didn’t have the right to ask, but still.
“Rattled,” Grey said softly. “He cares about you.”
“He shouldn’t.” The words felt familiar, by now. He knew they were true. “I hurt him.”
“Yes,” she agreed.
“I hit him.”
“You did.” She nodded, cocked her head.
“If you say it wasn’t me -” He gritted his teeth. It hadn’t been him, but it had still been his body. His goddamn mind – warped, but how much? How much of it had it been the Seed, how much had it been him?
“It wasn’t you.” Grey looked at him serenely. “Daken, I’ve seen many friends be possessed by malicious forces. I have been, too. It’s normal, healthy even, that you question how many of the actions you took under its influence were driven by – let’s say, pre-existing urges. But try to remember that such outside forces warp one’s own perception. And your reaction to these memories tells you that this is not who you are.”
“I would never take in a child,” he felt compelled to say, bile rushing up his throat. “I’d never -” he broke off.
What was he going to say? That he would never ‘hurt’ a child? As a child himself, Daken had thrown into the river his little half-brother, a mere infant, so that he wouldn’t take Daken’s place; and he’d had to kill children over the years under Romulus’ thumb, because there wasn’t any choice when he was given a mission.
In more recent times, he’d hit that boy, Evan: a full-on, methodical beating, to drive Logan to believe he was beyond salvation, to persuade Logan to kill Daken. He’d been a right mess at the time, that decision had been brought about by sheer desperation – but that had been him. Daken, with no ‘outside force’.
So the point was moot. It was him. It was something he could do. Something he had the capacity for thinking and acting on, on his own. That, and worse.
“Finish that sentence,” Grey said gently. He shook his head.
“That’s not true,” he choked. “It’s all a lie, Grey. I would; I have. I have that void, within me. It’s not an outside force, it’s me.”
“What is?” Grey questioned. “What is it, that’s inside you? This void.”
He let out a sharp, hysterical laughter. Wasn’t it obvious? She ought to know. She’d seen his mind. Hadn’t she sensed the rot?
“You’ve hurt children,” Grey said lightly. “Is that what you’re saying?”
“Yes.” He averted his gaze, suddenly weary beyond belief. What was the point of this? He’d thought she’d help him. He’d thought she’d rid him of Romulus, of himself, of this damn hole in his chest. She should just get on with it and wipe Daken away.
“How?” she asked, and he had to turn his head sharply to stare at her because what sick kind of question was that? But she looked calmly on, quietly focused on him. “How have you hurt children, Daken?”
“Zach -” he choked on the name, his tongue lead in his mouth.
“That wasn’t you. Before.” She held up a hand, palm up. “Tell me about before.”
Before. Before was before that long edge of darkness, before the death that had stuck and the return that had corrupted him. Before was before the horrific crevices of hell he knew he’d turn to when he died again – when he really, truly died. Before was on him, and him alone.
He’d smelt the kid just stand there and watch as Logan drowned him in the puddle. It must have been a relief to witness Daken’s demise, after what Daken had done to him.
“You must know about Evan Sabahnur,” he muttered. “The little Apocalypse clone.”
She cocked her head. “And what did you do to him?”
“I beat him.” Daken clenched his teeth. He hadn’t particularly liked it, but he’d still done it. Because it was the fastest way to gain Logan’s attention, to rile him up. To show him what an animal Daken was, so that he’d put Daken down. “I beat him to a pulp on the floor.”
A flicker of something in Grey’s eyes; at last, she showed some emotion over his wrongdoings. But the next moment she was the picture of composure again. “And before? Other children?”
Other children. He’d never sought out kids as targets. While he was under Romulus, some missions had entailed killing children too and he’d done it, of course. What else could he have done? Romulus always knew. He’d been quick and efficient but that was hardly a good thing – he’d still done it. He doubted Grey wanted to hear that and he had no intention of making excuses.
“I’ve killed children in the past. Jobs.” This time, Grey definitely showed signs of distress, inhaling sharply before, again, regaining her composure and exhaling slowly before taking a deep breath.
“Did you draw out their deaths? Hit them, perhaps?” she asked. He shuddered; while he’d occasionally enjoyed prolonging a job on adults, he’d never done that with kids.
“No.” Of course not.
She hummed. “Why?”
He clenched his teeth. What was the point of this? What was she trying to prove? “They were already going to die. There was no reason to make them suffer on top of that.”
She raised an eyebrow, as if to say ‘See?’ It made him nauseous.
“Grey, I still killed them.”
“Believe me, I know.” She shivered. “But I’m trying to make you see something here.”
“What?” What could she possibly want him to see? That it had been wrong? Oh, he knew that well.
She leaned towards him. “You didn’t make it worse than it could have been,” she said slowly. “The children you killed, you had to. I understand that, by job, you mean mercenary hits you did for -” she paused, “- Romulus.”
His stomach churned. “Yes.”
“And you had no other choice but to obey.”
He shook his head. “Grey, I’m hardly a saint -”
“You’re a murderer. I know. You’ve killed people even after Romulus was out of your life...” He barked a sharp laughter that tasted of his own blood, so hard he’d bit down on his tongue. Romulus had never been ‘out of his life’. And he’d killed before Romulus. Grey worried her lower lip. “I’m sorry. I mean, I know you are a killer, Daken. But that doesn’t change the fact that you weren’t working for him out of your free will. If he gave you a job, you obeyed, and that was it. Is that correct?”
Her eyes flickered. She’d been in Daken’s mind – in Romulus’. She knew. She knew Romulus’ punishments. She knew Romulus’ sway –
He hung his head to avoid her gaze. “Yes.”
“And you did what you had to do,” she said softly. “Nothing more. You didn’t torture those kids. A monster would have done that, but you didn’t.” A pregnant pause. “And it might have escaped everyone’s attention after how the situation had ended… but Betsy was kind enough to allow me to watch what happened with Evan, Daken. And I did notice how remarkably unbothered by the beating he was.”
Daken stilled. That didn’t matter; he’d still beaten the boy. The boy had still bled.
“You hit nonvitals,” Grey said matter-of-factly. “It was a show for Logan’s benefit. You did the less damage you could do to achieve your goal, nothing more.”
“So what,” he snapped, fed up with her almost maternal tone, with her downplaying. “It’s all good? It doesn’t matter?”
“So, you don’t enjoy harming children. You never did.” She moved then – she leaned closer, placed a hand on the bed. She didn’t touch him, but her pale hand rested inches from his encased left one. He stared at it, unable to meet her eyes. She was insane. “That is who you are. A foundation so strong of your sense of self, that it battled the Death Seed -”
“No, I -”
“While under its influence,” she interrupted him, her voice soft as if explaining something to a child, “you held no qualms over beating Logan. I spoke with Rogue too, and the battle with the Avengers was horrifying. You didn’t hold back in any fight, you just acted. A part of it was you, of course – your rage, your desires. But the rest was the Death Seed. It fed on you, and sent you spiraling. Afterwards, when you were out of the twins’ grasp, you sensed that. You were already strong enough to seek a way to control it, lest it controlled you. You could feel yourself slipping -”
“Yes,” he interjected, his voice cracking. That was how it had felt, what he recalled to have felt. He was being eaten alive, swallowed whole by the void. He was losing all he was – all the progress he’d made after Logan’s death.
Logan’s death had hit him like a stone smashing a skull. He’d felt sedated, lethargic. He’d followed meekly Mystique’s orders, Laura’s presence on the shapeshifter’s plane an anchor he clung to. He’d been useless at the time, and the Death Seed had known it; it had lay dormant, biding its time.
But when the worlds had collided and the world had changed and he’d woken up one day, his healing factor returned – the Death Seed had acted out, again. He’d felt it reaching out, slick tendrils of nothingness crawling under his skin, inside his skull. Meditation didn’t work and talking with Laura didn’t work and he’d hid away –
No, that wasn’t right –
“Every time you felt you were about to harm Zach, to really harm him, you distanced yourself from him,” Grey was murmuring, as if from far, far away… He wanted to interrupt her, to protest it wasn’t true, but he was unraveling, felt something stir at the edge of his mind. “Because that is where you draw the line, where you always have. Even when you were mind-controlled by that chemical,” she said softly, her hand slithering up, up, up. He felt her touch the metal surrounding his hand as if it was touching his flesh. “Harming a child was one of the things that set you off. A trigger that awakened you, made you panic.” His elbow colliding with a nose, a whiff of blood.
Gabby. He heard his breath hitch and shred itself in quick puffs.
Grey hesitated. “Daken?”
No. “Help,” he choked out. He was being strangled, his little feet kicking the air. Quod sum eris . Something, something was at the back of his mind, like when he’d recalled what he’d done to Zach. “Grey -”
“I’m here.” She touched his arm, the warmth reeling him in just barely. “I’ll attempt to slide into your mind. Are you okay with that?”
“Tasukete!” Help me! He was remembering something. It was there and it scared him and the void, the fucking void –
I’m here. Grey’s voice echoed in his mind. She held him, held his shivering panicked self. It was dark. It was cold. Let it come to you and remember what I told you.
What she’d told him? He was suffocating, he was trapped and she’d just come into his mind with no defense, no preparation – Xavier had been knocked unconscious! How could she help him if she was hurt the same way, and what was she blabbering about -
I’m not Charles , she said, something shimmering around them. It was dark and cold and then it wasn’t, and he could breathe, he could breathe. Watch, but understand what you’re seeing. Remember what I told you.
She knew what he was about to remember?
I sensed it awakening. It was screaming. She held him tight ly as he opened his eyes.
[He was in Laura’s apartment. The day she’d invited him over. They’d danced around each other for weeks, he’d shown her Logan’s memorial, but she’d had yet to invite him home. Until she had. And there was a scent twin to hers, and he was staring at this miniature copy of Laura. Laura had been cloned, and she’d decided to take the girl in. The girl was smart and funny and it stirred something in his chest. He wanted to protect her. She was just a child and she’d been used all her life, just like Laura, just like him, but she didn’t let that bring her down. She was bright and so cheerful and he wanted her to never be used again.
And the Seed wanted to use her. The Seed was screaming, screaming, that she ought to be used. That she ought to be trained properly. That that was what he’d been raised to do, to pass down the wisdom of millennia, to create an army to take on the world with, to lay waste to everything and everyone, Death to all, a void to swallow the world whole –]
No. No! He recoiled and Grey was there, holding him even as he struggled. Shrapnel came at them, a cacophony of sounds, high-pitched screaming, but Grey deviated it all. He could sense it was his defenses, it was his own mind in a desperate attempt to flee and deflect , but she parried every hit with practiced ease, sliding them both through the chaos.
T hen, it quietened down. They were in a small pocket of darkness but it was silent, faintly illuminated by a candle.
She sat them down. He let her, dazed, horrified, stupefied.
He’d contemplated training Gabby. He’d contemplated harming her –
The Seed did . Grey took his hands. The Seed fed on what was done to you, on your trauma, and concocted a dark design. And that’s when you snapped , Daken. That’s when you found the strength to decide you had to control it, to counterattack. That’s when you sought out Zach’s help.
When he’d sought to destroy Zach, too, rather. He wasn’t safe. He wasn’t safe, he had to tell Laura –
Daken . Grey put a hand on his heart. Stop thinking. Watch.
[He gritted his teeth, excused himself. Laura didn’t comment because he’d told her already he sometimes felt the Seed’s pull. He fluffed Gabby’s hair and bid them goodbye and exited Laura’s apartment, the building, got into his car. It was straining, tearing at him, howling, but he held it down, his knuckles white with effort, beads of sweat on his body, blue patches where his skin was visible. His eyes in the rearview mirror were splotches of red, then normal again, then red swallowed the iris and then vanished, back and forth, back and forth. But he’d held on. He smelt rotten, like a dead thing, but he’d held on. He’d sought out his most secluded safe-house and once he was inside he’d stuck all his claws in his legs and he’d dragged them up and down until the searing hot pain was all he was and the void had receded.]
Watch.
[He’d stopped answering Laura’s texts and calls, stabbing himself every time he felt his fingers itch. When he was lucid he considered going to the X-Men, but they’d never help. No one would even listen because they knew what he was, and he wouldn’t risk involving Laura. He stalked at the edges of the school, pondering if they’d take him down if he just attacked them and then maybe they’d sense that something was wrong with him and then perhaps they’d wrench it away from him? He drew out all he’d discovered when he researched the Apocalypse Seed before Logan’s death, the available info on all the X-Men who’d been possessed over the years. And then one day he heard the boy talk in Central Park, loud and boasting. The boy was a walking on-off switch for mutant powers. The boy was the solution.]
He remembered what had happened next. He’d concocted a mad plan. Kept tabs on Zach and moved in as soon as the boy, eager to prove himself, had hit the streets and got himself into trouble the first night. Took Zach in, used him to try and free himself – one way or another. At the end he’d lost all control, the Seed overpowering him. But he’d tried.
And he’d done all that… he’d done it to regain control. To protect – to protect –
Oh .
Lights swirled around them. Shadows formed, then buildings, and he recognized Rome’s streets. He recognized the path, his aimless w a ndering as he pondered what to do with his life. It had happened long years ago, after his reckoning, after Romulus’ supposed ‘ death ’.
The pickpocket.
He watched himself as he stopped the small Italian girl that had tr ied to steal from him, as he gave her advice to survive the streets a little longer, to delay the inevitable. The girl begged him to take her in and he chased her away because he would never, he would never –
He would never take in a child. He would never harm a child. He would never submit a child to the nightmare that had taken him.
That’s what I wanted you to see. Grey retreated, pulling him with her, taking them both out of his mind. He found himself on the bed, her hand on his arm as she sat beside him. He was shaking; s he gazed down at him with concern. “I didn’t mean to trigger another Death Seed memory,” she murmured . “I apologize.”
“It’s all right,” he tried to say. It was more of a mumbling, his teeth clattering with shock. It was just as well, no? It had served her purpose. Proved her point. “Did – did you know -?”
“No.” She shook her head. “But from your responses, it was likely that perceiving a threat to children was what made you fight the Death Seed.”
A threat to children. Daken shuddered, recalling that void. Romulus’ voice, a leer on his face –
“You fought it,” she said firmly, “and won.” Her hand moved slowly over his harm. “You defeated the void on your own. I’ll help you eradicate it but, Daken, I need you to know you’re strong enough. I need you to trust yourself.” She caught his encased hands and he felt warmth seeping through. His hands unclenched; his claws slid back into his arms. He hadn’t even noticed he’d unsheathed them, but he guessed it had happened while he was in his mind, while he remembered…
Gabby. He’d fought the Death Seed for Gabby.
For himself. For Zach.
It didn’t change the damage he’d done to the boy. He’d done it – the Death Seed had done it – and Zach would need time to heal. But Daken had fought. He’d always fought.
He wasn’t rotten. He had never spread the disease – he would never.
H e was strong enough to fight. To scream in the face of Romulus’ abuse and say: no. not me. Not ever. How had Laura put it -?
He was a survivor. He thought he finally understood what she’d meant.
He thought he could finally start to believe it.
Notes:
Next: A reconciliation.
.
[This is a bit of a point of contention in the Daken fandom; it’s usually argued that he doesn’t harm children, that he draws the line at that. We do have textual proof – the aforementioned Italian girl comes to mind – that he relates heavily to abused children and he’d probably go out of his way not to hurt them. But I also think that it could be a bit disingenuous to believe he never killed one, apart from those we know about and know the extenuating circumstances around those instances. He spent fifty years under Romulus’ thumb and I find it hard to believe that he was never given the order to terminate an entire family, or something along those lines.
Daken’s first on-panel interaction with Gabby always struck me as strange for a first meeting, so I’ve always believed that Laura must have introduced them earlier. This, once the timeline for his most recent appearances revealed itself, also meant that Daken must still have been under the influence of the Death Seed at the time.
Let me know what you think, your comments make my day! ^-^ ]
Chapter 32: A reconciliation.
Notes:
I’m back! So terribly sorry for the delay, my schedule’s all over the place. Real life’s pretty hectic.
For my peace of mind (and yours) I’m not going to set up an update schedule, which could be easily disrupted, as we’ve seen. Updates are going to keep coming, though, rest assured! ^-^
Additional Warnings: suicide mention, mentions of child abuse.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
32.
“Can I come in?” Laura murmured, a hand on the jamb.
Daken, who’d just got off the phone, raised his head from the pillow to study her. She stood in the doorway to his room in the med bay; she’d waited in the larger room for a few minutes, having arrived in the midst of his conversation with, it seemed, Johnny Storm. She’d almost turned on her heels then, but then he’d glanced up and seen her through the glass and motioned for her to wait, so he wasn’t averse to talking to her. Not yet, at least.
She’d just managed to get a hold of her own emotions, thanks to Jubilee’s firm comfort, and she’d known she had to come down here and face Daken sooner rather than later, to clear the air before it was too late. To apologize.
She’d never been this side of the barricade, with Daken. She’d never hurt him so that he’d look at her as he had earlier that day, on the lawn. But she knew how fiercely he could hold a grudge, and she feared she’d just gone and burnt their bridge. So careless.
She was such a hypocrite. So tall and proud on her high horse – and the fact that it had taken Logan to make her see it, was so much worse.
She knew how Daken felt about being lied to. She knew the toll it took on him, what he was reminded of. No one’s happy at discovering something like that but with Daken, it was worse. He’d been lied to his whole life.
She’d seen how upset he’d been after discovering Logan's lies, although his shock had, too, another and more visceral reason.
And she’d gone and done the exact same thing to him. Not on purpose, not really; it had slipped her mind. But that was much worse. Some sister she was!
And now he lay in a hospital bed again, and this time he’d done it to himself. And she knew he was upset with her too, and he had the right to be, and she didn't know if her presence could help or make more damage – but as Jubilee as pointed out, he was her family. He needed her. She had to show him she was there, at least; she’d respect what he decided to do with that.
At least he was being helped. Jean would work with him – and it seemed that he was mending something with Logan. Coming out of the med bay shell-shocked and yet radiating happiness, their father had said he hadn’t apologized to Daken; but he looked like he’d do it soon, and if Daken had decided to listen to him anyway, to talk to him… that was good. That was progress, and she was glad of it.
Looking at Daken now, buried under blankets but already devoid of the padded manacles she knew Hank had used to protect him were he to try anything again, she thought that he looked better than what she’d expected after seeing him so pale and bloodied and desperate on the school’s lawn. There was a clarity to his eyes that she hadn’t thought she’d see; and there had been a softness to his features as he talked to Storm, gently cradling the phone between head and shoulder as his fingers painted lazy lines on the linen.
Could it be that Jean had already worked some miracle?
Daken cocked his head. “Of course, sister.”
Sister. She went, relieved… but she didn’t take the plastic chair he was gesturing at, electing to stand at his side. He adjusted his position, grumbling that they’d all insisted on some bed rest yet again; then a shadow passed over his face, maybe shame or resignation, and he grimaced. He bent his head, letting it rest upon the raised pillow, and looked up at her.
There was no visible sign on the tender flesh below his chin, nor at the top of his skull. Sometimes she hated their healing factor, the way it erased the evidence of their self-harm. She’d had found help far before Cessily found her in that bathroom, maybe, if her arms had scarred normally. Or more probably, she’d have never been born, quelled in Sarah Kinney’s womb as soon as tests showed no healing factor; or perhaps she’d have been murdered on the operating table –
He saw her looking, and he sighed. “I’m sorry. That must have been difficult to watch.”
Startled, she took a step towards him. It had been horrible, yes, gut-wrenching; and it had made her feel so helpless, standing there as he stabbed himself, too far to do anything to stop him. But this wasn’t about her.
“I’m just glad you’re fine,” she hastened to say. She couldn’t help the once-over she gave him as she spoke, to reassure herself despite having already studied him from the door. He did look fine, physically; as for his psyche… there was some peace of mind in the depths of his his eyes, a truth gained and treasured that gave him an uncharacteristic aura of something like wonder. Bless Jean, indeed.
He seemed to know her train of thought. “Grey’s good,” he said quietly. She wondered what Jean had done, what they’d talked about – but she’d have to regain his trust first.
She opened her mouth, her apology ready on her tongue.
“You were right,” he murmured. She trailed off, unsure of his meaning. He was looking up at her with such stark gratitude that it hurt her, knowing how she’d let him down. And yet, that lucidity in his eyes, that vision… it was such a different, welcome sight.
“About?” she asked him, softly, when he didn’t elaborate.
He caught her hand. “I’m a survivor,” he said, so simply. So matter-of-fact that it took her a few seconds to catch on, her breath stuttering. Her chest clenched as she recalled so many of their conversations; she recalled when she’d finally told him exactly that, just a few days before. She recalled how he’d seemed to truly not understand it.
But now… now he believed it, she could see it in his eyes. Now he knew it.
She squeezed his hand, battling the tears – happy tears – threatening to spill. “You are.” It was all she could push past the lump in her throat. She felt so relieved, so grateful, so happy. “And I’m so proud of you.”
Daken held her hand tightly. “I fought back.”
“You did.” She smiled, mesmerized by his beautiful self-affirmation, postponing perhaps what she’d come to do, but… this merited its time, the time to properly appreciate it. Daken deserved it.
There was a sort of fever in his gaze, but not too alarming. It was the sharp knowledge that came with self-discovery, with acceptance. It warmed her heart to see that he’d found this truth within himself.
“I fought,” he repeated. She was nodding, supportive, elated, when he added: “For Gabby, too.” He took a shaky breath.
Laura paused, waiting. It seemed to be something he needed to say, if the sharp change in his heartbeat was to be an indication. It wasn’t panic, not quite: he was still serene, focused. “Go on,” she encouraged him softly.
He shook his head, not in denial but as a sort of centering gesture. “Grey made me remember. The Seed wanted me to… to use Gabby, to train her.” He shut his eyes in plain disgust, then reopened them immediately, searching her gaze, as if to reassure her he’d have never harmed Gabby; when she knew that already. God, she knew: she’d seen it often enough to know it. She squeezed his hand to reassure him, no words necessary, and he released a breath he didn’t seem to realize he’d been holding. “She said that’s what made me snap,” he continued, voice quiet. “Everything I did, after, what I did to Zach...” He shuddered. “I was trying to regain control, because I couldn’t hurt Gabby. I didn’t want to. I couldn’t – I couldn’t replicate my own ab-abuse.”
He stuttered to a halt. He looked startled – wide-eyed – but at peace.
He’d never uttered that word. Never with her; nor, she suspected, with anyone. With Jean, perhaps? No, this was fresh, his surprise evident. Not at the word, or the concept… but at saying it. At saying it out loud.
Her chest ached. “And you didn’t,” she murmured, as she’d told him so many times ever since finding him in that safe-house. She didn’t know if that could reach him, yet; if he could recognize that he hadn’t succumbed. But this knowledge of the nature of what he’d lived through, finally; the verbalization of it, naming it abuse. The exact nature of it he’d discuss with Jean, when he felt ready; Laura wouldn’t expect him to open himself up to her soon, for these things took time, as she well knew, and though they often talked, it was what he didn’t say that told her what he still verbally couldn’t. But this, this was progress: so much, and in so little time!
“Yes,” he exhaled. “I didn’t.” He gritted his teeth then, the muscles of his hand jumping against her skin; and after, a sigh of resignation, releasing the tension as he worked through another truth: “I protected Zach. As best as I could.” He raised his free hand to rub at his eyes. “It wasn’t nearly enough, but I did. What I would have done to him if I hadn’t fought the Death Seed -” He shuddered.
So he knew.
He understood; that was extraordinary. After months of her attempts to get through to him, after seeing his shattered mindscape as she and the telepaths tried to put him back together, she knew this was a wound that run deep, festering exactly because it had cut through a never-healed scab with surgical precision. Worse, it had fed on it, enlarged it to almost consume him.
She had always known it would take time for him to understand that he had done all he could, that he’d fought viciously, that he’d won.
And now he did.
Laura raised her free hand to cover Daken’s, still plastered over his face. He lowered it then, his gaze clear. “He’ll heal,” he said with deadly certainty. Maybe it was a prayer, too.
It might as well have been an assist for what she’d come here to do. She straightened up, a hand resting limply at her side, the other still holding on to Daken’s. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about the power dampener.”
He inhaled and looked up at her. There wasn’t accusation in his gaze, that sharp betrayal that had knocked the wind out of her on the lawn. “Were you trying to protect me?” he said softly. It was a way out he was offering: what he would have hated and resented from Logan was something he was willing to take from Laura. Because he trusted her, implicitly.
No lies, though. Not between them. “At first, yes. I didn’t… believe you could cope with it,” she explained. He listened, nodding to himself. “When you came here, though, when you were yourself again… I should have told you. You were bound to notice it sooner or later, and to cope even worse...” She trailed off; they both knew how badly he’d coped. Just because there was no scar it didn’t mean he hadn’t tried to kill himself. “I should have told you,” she repeated. “It… slipped my mind. I’m really sorry.”
His features softened and he shook his head. “You had enough on your plate, I think. You couldn’t be expected to remember that too.” He squeezed her hand.
Her chest clenched. “Daken -”
“It’s all right, Laura.” He sat up, suddenly, and pulled her into an embrace. She was taken aback; it wasn’t the norm, for them. Moments of tactile comfort were few, scarce. None of them had been raised to seek that warmth. Gabby had been the one to introduce them both to it, oftentimes initiating what they were still too fundamentally scarred to think about on their own.
This hug reminded her of when he’d come to her on Roosevelt Island: the startling, overwhelming realization that she wasn’t alone either. That she didn’t have to do everything on her own. She was still learning that. It was an ongoing thing.
She held him back, tightly. His arms were strong and sure, his scent exuding gentle understanding. “You’ve been helping me tirelessly ever since I came back,” he murmured. “To your own detriment. You’ve been taking care of me, sister. It doesn’t matter if this thing slipped your mind.” She exhaled, caught between grief and relief. “It’s going to be all right.”
And there was a world of meaning to those words. It was a reassurance to her, yes, but it was a statement, too. A certainty that he’d lacked for so long that now it took the wind out of her.
It would be all right. Because they were together, and they were a family.
And healing would finally be found.
Notes:
Next: An unsettling meeting.
.
[The siblings’ small misunderstanding over Zach’s power dampener was always going to be a minor setback at best – they know they can trust each other – but it had to be tackled nonetheless, especially on Laura’s end. And I wanted the first time Daken really acknowledged his abuse to be a quiet moment with his sister.
Let me know what you think, your comments make my day! ^-^ ]
Chapter 33: An unsettling meeting.
Notes:
Additional Warnings: implied dubious consent, mentions of suicide, mentions of child abuse.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
33.
Things got quiet for a while.
Daken left the med bay after a few days: Jean assured everyone that he was more balanced and he wouldn’t traumatize students by suddenly stabbing himself. She was seeing him daily, and she wouldn’t tell Logan anything about it.
He hadn’t asked to be informed of what his son discussed with her, but he couldn’t be blamed for entertaining the thought for a fleeting second, could he? But that had been enough to alert Jeannie. She’d praised him for not voicing that impulse, but she’d also said firmly that such a thing would always be out of the question.
“Even if it’s something I should know?” he’d said slowly, thinking back on… well, on a lot of things. A lot of things he’d pretended not to see, downplaying their importance. Jean had shaken her head, her gaze understanding but stern.
“This isn’t about you, Logan.”
Well, there was that. It was , marginally… Daken had been taken from his momma and “trained” because he was Logan’s son, and none of the telepaths argued with that. But that was the extent of it.
He did know that. Now.
And he knew that his son needed time before talking to him again. Their conversation after his suicide attempt had been a first step, and Logan wasn’t going to fuck it up by imposing anything. He still had to clear the air – explain to Daken what had really happened when he’d taken his son’s Muramasa claws – but he knew that would be a horribly emotionally charged conversation, so he’d decided to give it time. Daken wasn’t going anywhere… and he was settling down, it seemed.
He spent a lot of time reading on a bench in a more secluded area of the lawn, for instance. Sometimes Gabby would be with him, and it was really a joy to see the change that overcame him whenever the little one was around. Logan wasn’t keeping tabs or anything, but they were bound to cross paths, every now and then, especially when they jogged. Daken always bowed his head slightly in greeting and asked Logan how he was, which would have to be enough for now.
He seemed to appreciate that. The space Logan was giving him.
He was also attending Betsy’s yoga class, which she’d finally reestablished after overcoming her own identity crisis. They crossed paths there, too, and Logan had spent the first lesson staring at his son’s impeccable form until Kitty had elbowed him.
Kitty was apparently pondering whether to offer Daken a class to teach. Jean had said it would be beneficial to his healing process, and they didn’t want Daken to feel as if he was living off charity. Logan didn’t need to be told anything about Daken’s state of mind to know that letting him think that would be a terrible mistake.
For now it was still in the works, though; Kitty was waiting to see how well Daken integrated at the school. And there wasn’t any spoken resistance, but it was one thing to allow Daken to stay, and another to allow him contact with malleable minds. It would have to be a small class, probably, with seniors. And supervised, at first. Or perhaps something for the adults, like Betsy’s yoga class.
Daken seemed to ignore all the buzz, even if Logan doubted he wasn’t aware of it. He sparred in the Danger Room, sometimes: either with Lorna, with Jimmy, or with Laura – who was finally taking time for herself too, which was great after wearing herself out in worry over Daken for weeks. Logan saw her around the campus with Jubilee a lot, or going out; they were a sight for sore eyes.
Jimmy was patiently bearing Logan’s attempts to communicate, but he wasn’t much responsive. He still preferred Lorna’s company, and he was apparently making friends among the student body. Still, he seemed to be more at ease with Daken and Laura; and he’d finally told Logan that theirs wasn’t his family. Yes, circumstance and genetics said it was, or the next closest thing; but he bemoaned those he’d lost from his world he couldn’t come back to. Logan could sympathize, and he’d backed off for now.
Laura… Laura wasn’t speaking with Logan.
She wasn’t avoiding him, exactly, but neither was she actively seeking his company. She was skittish, disturbed by something, but she couldn’t say what, never going past surface conversations that really, held no real meaning. Mostly they talked about the search for Soteira, which still bore no results. That was fucking annoying, by the way, but Kitty was still positive they were on the right track.
He and Laura had never talked much, but there had always been a connection; he’d always known he could reach out to her, and she’d always know she could talk to him. Now it felt like there was a wall, something he’d glimpsed while they searched for Daken, something she’d shown after his misunderstanding with Daken. And she’d been right about being angry, but after her apology the day of Daken’s attempt to take his own life, Logan had thought that would be it… It hadn’t been, evidently.
Betsy said they’d work it out.
Kurt and ’Ro seemed to agree with her. But they also knew when he was itching for something, feeling trapped, ruminating on too many things at once – which was why his partners had decided to take him out for dinner tonight.
And it had come at just the right time, when he felt he could do something stupid… like interrupting one of Laura’s dates to ask her what was wrong, or sliding on the bench beside Daken, or running away to handle the Soteira problem himself.
He welcomed the idea, because he now knew when he was spiraling out of control.
So they cleaned up – ’Ro looked stunning in a silver jumpsuit, and Kurt was so handsome in a grey tuxedo – and they went to see The Phantom of the Opera. Always a good one, that, and Logan leaned comfortably in his seat, absorbed in the swirls and turns of the music.
Afterwards, when they succeeded in evading the press – the sight of three of the most notorious X-Men was bound to claim attention, and Logan was still a novelty after his recent return from the dead – they got into a Japanese restaurant he’d always wanted to try but hadn’t ever gotten around to; ’Ro had remembered, of course.
It was good, to sit with them and eat and talk about things that didn’t worry him. His mind did turn towards them from time to time but Kurt always knew how to brush his leg against Logan’s to ground him to reality, and ’Ro’s hand was a warm consolation on his arm, and they were both so beautiful and kind and understanding, and they were both his, and this was a fine, beautiful night.
The only warning he got was an absence of scent, a black hole where his senses told him there ought to be a person. Then a woman he hadn’t seen in years slid into their booth, in front of Logan, beside Kurt.
Logan tensed. He stared, barely hearing the maître asking if the madame really was with them, he hadn’t managed to stop her, he really was dreadfully sorry –
She smiled sardonically, tilting her head and picking up a nigiri from Kurt’s plate with her long-nailed fingers. She observed it like it was an insect before popping it into her mouth. She never broke eye-contact with Logan.
Logan felt dizzy.
“Daijoubu,” he told the maître, and waited until the man was gone.
God, but she was still striking. That brilliant red hair pinned on her head, that strong jaw, the muscles rippling beneath the sheer fabric. A predator refusing to mask herself.
Remus, Romulus’ twin sister.
’Ro squeezed his arm, wanting to know if it really was fine. Wanting to know if the woman was a threat. Kurt adjusted his position, too, to teleport Remus away before she harmed civilians.
Her presence was too much of a coincidence, after their visit to Romulus. She’d helped put him in prison, yes, but he was still her brother… And yet, she’d never given Logan reason to think her an enemy -
But that was before he realized how much Romulus had hurt Daken. And a question he hadn’t even thought while they worked together – and wasn’t that strange on its own, and didn’t Romulus possess minor telepathic powers, and didn’t it stand to reasons his twin did too ? – now burned in Logan’ s mind: hadn’t she known what her brother had been up to? Why hadn’t she stopped it? Hadn’t she cared that a small child was being tortured?
“I come in peace,” she said as she settled on her knees, her hands resting non-threateningly on her thighs. She cocked her head, turning her attention to ’Ro: the air around his partner rippled with electricity, contained for now. “Remus,” she introduced herself, “Romulus’ sister. I never condoned his methods,” she added, quietly, as Kurt made to grab her arm.
She probably could have ripped off Kurt’s before any of them could do anything. With the way she and Romulus moved… the same way Daken had been taught to…
Logan met Kurt’s gaze and shook his head. For now, he wanted to hear what she had to say. Discreetly, he sent a telepathic notice for the school’s telepaths to pick up: all the X-Men were trained to do that; he could only hope his partners were doing the same even as they nodded and ostensibly relaxed.
Remus grinned and placed a hand on her chest as if wounded, so perhaps she did indeed possess some telepathic powers. But then she sobered, returning her hand to her thigh.
“I thought you’d be pleased to see me.” She cocked her head, a few strands of hair escaping artfully, and glanced first at Kurt, then at ’Ro. “Yours? Both of them?” she said, a slow delighted grin spreading on her face. “Greedy.”
“What can we do for you?” Kurt said politely, though he smelt incensed. ’Ro, too, was a quiet simmering fury at Logan’s side. They could read between the lines; perhaps they’d reached Logan’s same conclusions. By saying she “didn’t condone” her brother’s methods, Remus had all but confirmed she’d never bothered to stop him.
Not until the end, anyway, when she’d asked for Logan’s help. And Logan refused to believe a giant like her would even need Logan’s help. Had it all been some game between the siblings?
Remus laughed, a light cascading sound. “You? Oh, you can’t do anything for me. I’m here because I did something for you.” She returned her attention to Logan, effectively dismissing his partners. “Consider it repayment for taking Romulus out of the equation.”
Slowly, to show she wasn’t going to attack, she retrieved a pen drive from the folds of her dress and placed it by Logan’s hand. He stilled, intrigued despite himself but wary.
“What is that?” asked ’Ro.
Remus ignored her. “Don’t I deserve at least a greeting, Logan? We’ve had such fun together, you and I,” she said, her teeth glinting. He’d never noticed how sharp they were. “Perhaps I could join you and your pets, sometimes?”
Hell, every hair on his body stood on end. He felt intimidated, and he didn’t like that. Why had he thought that sleeping with such an ancient thing was a good idea? With Romulus’ sister.
Kurt was in his line of sight. ’Ro was beside him. His pillars, unwavering and fierce.
“Hello, Remus,” he choked out. Christ, his voice felt like gravel. “We’ll have to pass,” he said more firmly, focusing on ’Ro’s body heat, on Kurt’s heartbeat.
She sighed. “Ah, you’ve become boring.” She stretched her long neck. “Well. Aren’t you curious?” She tilted her head towards the pen drive. He eyed it.
The facts: though she was really making him uncomfortable now, and she obviously saw much of what had happened to both Logan and Daken as fleeting nuisances, not worthy of fighting her brother until it served her some purpose… she’d fought at Logan’s side, and she’d claimed to love him then. She was giving him something now. A repayment; he supposed that even ancient beings know it’s better to tie up loose ends.
“What is it?” He drummed his fingers, but still didn’t touch the pen drive.
“Information,” she said. “The location of Soteira’s base of operations, and names and location of those I didn’t bother with tracking down.” She flicked her wrist with an affected air of boredom, as if she hadn’t just given him what they’d been scrambling for weeks to find.
“How -” Kurt began.
“I have my methods, son of Azazel.” Kurt started and then composed himself, the only tell the way his yellow eyes were blazing.
“Tracking down,” said ’Ro. Remus looked at her, an eyebrow arched. Logan furrowed his brow. Yes, Remus’ wording had been strange. “You didn’t bother to track the others down,” continued ’Ro, a hand splayed on the table. “But you went to the base, didn’t you?”
Logan caught up. “What will we find?”
“Oh, corpses.” Remus waved a hand. “You’d have given them all to the authorities, and I couldn’t let alive people who thought they could use ferals. Who thought they could use you.” She bared her teeth.
It was the very same thing that he’d have done, had he been working alone. He couldn’t take any high ground there.
But she’d bothered to annihilate a threat to ferals only when it had involved him. She was as her brother, uncaring of everything save for what interested her.
Would Daken have been caught in the crossfire, if she attacked Soteira before they saved him? Would she have fought and killed Logan’s son without a care in the world?
Logan closed a fist around the pen drive. “Thank you. Was there a Marcus Roston?”
“Oh, yes,” Remus snorted softly. “The poor thing.”
“Poor thing?”
“He was being milked for his powers.” Remus passed a finger over her lips. “His blood. A hallucinogenic, no? He was comatose, more a skeleton that anything else. My favorite slew that one. She slit his throat: mercy killing.” The mirth in her eyes said the contrary, but none of them commented. “Did you want to kill him yourself? I know he had a run-in with your son.”
Logan gritted his teeth. “No, it doesn’t matter. The important thing is he’s dead.” He didn’t spare a thought for the bastard who’d traumatized Daken: he’d had it coming.
But the other bastard…
“Did you know?” He blurted out. ’Ro squeezed his arm to comfort him.
“Mh?” Remus said, distracted. “Did I know they had you? No, I’d have intervened sooner.”
“No.” She didn’t care. She quite clearly hadn’t cared. “Did you know what Romulus was doing to my son?”
Remus clenched her jaw in something like annoyance, her eyes flashing, but then she sighed. “My brother and I survived this long because we learnt early on not to interfere in each other’s affairs,” she said, monotone.
“You interfered when you helped me put him in prison,” Logan pointed out.
“Well, yes,” she cocked her head, her eyes glinting. “It was rather time for a change, wasn’t it? And he was threatening you.” She tried to take his hand, but he took it off the table and into his lap. He thought he would surely try to stab her if she kept this up, and it was a fight they couldn’t win amongst civilians. She shook her head. “I’m sorry your son was hurt. Romulus has always lacked finesse.” She was reciting a spiel, no empathy in her voice.
He didn’t want to hear her anymore. He couldn’t cope with the indifference. “I see,” he said, trying to keep his voice calm. She could surely sense some of his surface thoughts, but she seemed more amused than anything else. “Thank you for disposing of Soteira.”
She smiled. “Anytime, caro.”
With that, she was standing up, towering over them even more than if they’d been all on their feet. Scrambling to stand up themselves now would only show fear. And he didn’t want her to think that. He wanted her to see how controlled he was, and how unperturbed he was, and how ready he was.
She chuckled. “Perhaps next time we’ll see each other you’ll have dropped the pets.” Without any passing glance to Logan’s partners, she was gone, so quickly he had to check himself.
They exchanged glances. Kurt and ’Ro knew him; they knew the tension simmering beneath sinews and muscle. They knew he was barely containing his rage… for what she hadn’t done, for what she’d practically admitted to doing. Oh, she’d known. She’d known very well about Daken, and she hadn’t lifted a finger.
She’d just bode her time until she knew she could easily take down her brother’s empire. To what end, Logan didn’t know. To take it? To build her own? To protect her own that maybe already existed, and take his place? Time for a change, she’d said.
How hadn’t Logan questioned anything at the time? Anything at all?
Because she was just as her brother, that’s why. Because she must have done something to him, to his mind.
She was ruthless, that much was clear; as intelligent as Romulus, if she’d managed to stay hidden all these years.
She had resources at her disposal that he couldn’t fathom, and she’d shown that she didn’t care about Logan’s son or any other member of his family, and – most importantly – now she’d had access to information that could be dangerous for his family… and he had no way of knowing if she’d retained it, or if she’d use it.
So now Logan would have to take her out, same as her brother.
Notes:
Next: Father and son talk.
.
[I’m not going to touch that Lupines mess (Wolverine vol 2, issues 310-313) with a ten-foot pole, but Remus is too interesting to discard; that mini opened up too many possibilities to pass. I see her as different from how we saw her there, though, as disquieting as her brother; I certainly think she spent that entire mini lying through her teeth.
Let me know what you think, your comments make my day! ^-^ ]
Chapter 34: Father and son talk.
Chapter Text
34.
Daken didn’t give Logan time to say anything.
“Can’t this wait?” he sighed as soon as his father diverged from the path to seemingly join him on the bench.
Logan had chosen the worst possible time to approach him: later that day Johnny would come over. A meeting they’d danced around for days, talking about nothing – oh, but how soothing to hear Johnny’s voice! – on the phone. Daken was going to sit Johnny down and bare it all: all the flavors of fucked up he was. And he would abide by what Johnny decided then.
It was straight up what Logan had told him to do, and that was harrowing enough. But he needed to. And Grey said it would do him good, to open himself up to a friend like that. To which Daken had countered that he didn’t want Johnny to be just a friend. Or… he didn’t know what he wanted, really. He just knew that he felt so deeply, but he didn’t want to string Johnny along without letting him know what kind of clusterfuck he’d fling himself into.
“It will do you good,” Grey had repeated, smiling.
It was bound to be a taxing conversation. So it wasn’t wise to have another taxing conversation on the same day. He found that he wouldn’t mind talking with Logan, per se… but it would surely cut open old wounds, leaving him raw, and there was a small possibility that it would leave him also prone to lash out, and Johnny didn’t deserve that.
Logan hesitated, there on the smaller path, and seemed to be considering. Then he took a fortifying breath.
Daken looked up from the book he was reading and bit back a growl at seeing his father’s face; God, he still hated Logan’s martyr act, the way he seemed to hunch over under the weight of circumstances so laughably out of his control.
And yet he was waiting to talk. Daken rolled his eyes, and hoped he wouldn’t come to regret this. “Yes?”
Logan exhaled. “I’m sorry, son. It’s important, and… I don’t want you to think I hid it from you.” He winced.
Daken bit the inside of his cheek. He felt his jaw clenching on its own – he’d decided that Logan’s lie wasn’t worth falling back into bad habits, but that didn’t mean that he couldn’t feel annoyance and betrayal – and closed the book on his lap. “Sit down, then.”
Logan reached him in a few fast steps and joined him on the bench, sitting a good few respectful inches away.
He took his sweet time, arranging himself in a non-threatening manner, resting his forearms on his parted thighs, his hands clasped and dangling between his legs. He wasn’t looking at Daken, for which Daken was frankly grateful.
Daken crossed his legs and rested an arm on the backrest opposite from Logan, his fingers drumming on the cover of the book. “Well?”
Logan took another breath. “How’s things with Jeannie, son? Not asking what you do or anything,” he hastened to say when Daken gritted his teeth. “Just… How are you?”
“It’s going well,” Daken said quietly, already regretting this.
It was going well. It was a maddeningly slow process, but he probably wouldn’t have borne doing it for long periods of time anyway. Grey took out a threat at a time with great care; Xavier’s mistake, she’d explained the first day, after apologizing for her old mentor’s dangerous attempt, had been to try to dismantle everything in one go. But now, after interrogating Romulus, she knew the inner workings of the monster’s mind – Daken had shuddered as she explained this – and so she knew that what plagued Daken was a carefully woven thread, whose knots were to be untied with sharp precision and a light touch. All in all it was always anticlimactic, but it left her tired and him uneasy, so it was do be done in small steps.
And she was taking care of the mind traps, too; when she was done, she’d teach Daken to resist telepathy on his own. It was alarming to think he could be left defenseless to any type of attack similar to Soteira’s, but worse still would be to stay even one minute more under Romulus’ control.
The rest of the time she would devote to go over a memory of Daken’s choosing. So far he’d only selected recent things, safe things – never Romulus – but she didn’t comment on that, letting Daken set the pace. He had the impression that she knew already everything there was to know about him, but there was never any reckless comment or any nudge towards the truly big things.
Talking about his memories, even walking through them physically while Grey pointed things out… it was a strange experience. He’d resisted, at first. He didn’t see the point; the point had been to free him from Romulus’ shadow, looming in his nightmares. But that didn’t come just from shadowy networks embedded in him.
Romulus was a constant in his life, a parasite that had carved its way in. He’d molded how Daken reacted to the world around him. He’d taken a child and made him a neurotic mess with issues the size of Himalaya. And Daken was beginning to see that leaning on Laura and talking with Lorna about being possessed wasn’t enough.
“Good,” Logan said haltingly, pulling Daken away from his thoughts. “That’s good. I, ah, thought it best to talk to you before your session -” he trailed off.
“So Grey would pick up the pieces if you were to traumatize me?” Daken sneered. “How thoughtful, Logan.” It was, though. At least his father was learning.
“Son -”
“I’m all ears.” Daken interrupted him. It this was to be so terrible, he wanted to get it over with quickly.
“All right.” Logan nodded to himself. “First off, this ain’t about Romulus… he’s still in prison. Everything’s fine on that front, son,” he said gently.
Daken felt oddly touched. It was mingled with irritation, as would always be when Logan attempted to talk about it, but it was refreshing to see him approach the topic with a modicum of sensitivity. It was the least he could do, after lying to Daken.
“I know,” he managed to say. Logan looked at him sharply, clearly taken aback. “You’d have told me differently,” Daken explained, “You probably would have sought out Laura’s help to talk to me, or maybe even Grey’s.”
Logan looked thoughtful. “That… sounds like what I’d have done, yes.”
“Mmm. Remember that if he does break out.” He shuddered at the mere idea. Logan gazed away, giving him… privacy? “So what is it, Logan? Did the X-Men find Roston?”
“He’s dead,” Logan said. Daken straightened up, the old fury coming to the surface before he could rein it in.
“Again?” he snarled. “You took matters into your hands again, Logan? You didn’t even think to warn me that you found him and you were going in?”
Logan stared, wide-eyed and ashen. “Wrong thing to lead with,” he said weakly.
“No shit!” Daken snapped, making to stand. Oh, he needed Grey all right. Was he relieved Roston was dead? Absolutely. Would it have hurt Logan to show him some respect? Evidently it had, otherwise he would have given Daken at least the bare minimum –
“No, no, it wasn’t me, I found out last night. Please listen to me,” Logan whispered, his gaze darting towards the lawn. There were some kids around, after all.
Daken deflated. “You found out last night?” he repeated, taking a sniff at his father: Logan was telling the truth. Daken fell back hard on the bench. Logan made an aborted motion towards his arm and thought better of it when he saw Daken’s glare. “You went on a date with Munroe and Wagner last night,” he ground out.
Everything all right? came Grey’s voice, just at the edge of his mind. He started; he’d never get used to it. She and her daughter were taking turns with keeping an eye on him: the price to pay so that he could roam free again after his suicide attempt on the lawn.
For now, he said ominously. He wondered if Grey had known Logan would ambush him this morning, but no; she’d have warned him, or attempted to prepare him. Will you see me earlier if this goes to hell?
Of course. And remember you can always walk away, Daken.
I’ll keep that in mind. Daken tilted his head to watch his father: Logan looked like he was reconsidering every life decision he’d ever made and especially this one. Evidently he hadn’t thought to first talk this through with whoever was apparently helping him not to put his foot in his mouth.
“Yes,” he finally answered, when Daken arched an eyebrow at him. “I was with Kurt and ’Ro. We were approached, um… the Soteira threat has been dealt with. We checked – the places we were told are there, and they fit. The scientists were all murdered -”
“Dealt with?” Daken repeated. “So we’re allegedly safe?”
“Soteira’s gone, yes -” That wasn’t an answer.
“Everyone murdered. Convenient. It did occur to you that the research could have been swept up to be reused, I hope.” Of course it had, otherwise Logan wouldn’t be here. “Who was it that approached you?”
Logan hesitated. Daken gritted his teeth.
“What is it that you aren’t telling me, Logan?”
“Just hold on, I’m… trying to find a way to broach the topic.”
Logan did look like he was struggling with whatever he’d come to tell him; he didn’t seem shifty or evasive, he simply didn’t know what to say. He said he was here because he didn’t want Daken to think he’d hidden whatever this was from him; so Daken would give him the benefit of the doubt, at least for now – even if Logan should have gotten his story straight before approaching Daken.
“The problem,” Logan said slowly, “is that I don’t know if you know about the person in question. If not, just springing her existence on you would be… well… I don’t know how’d you react, son. Or if you do know her, and she,” his eyes flashed, “if she traumatized you -”
“This has something to do with Romulus, then,” Daken interrupted him. He didn’t like Logan using that word. It was the honest truth, but he wasn’t ready to hear it from Logan yet. And the idea that Romulus’ shadow still loomed behind Soteira even after Grey had confirmed his ignorance sent Daken’s teeth on edge. Would he ever be free from the monster?
“Not… not exactly,” Logan said. “She’s a sort of enemy of his, but I don’t know if she’s always acted as such.” Well, that simplified things.
“Any woman tasked with my education is long dead,” Daken offered quietly. The implication that his education had been traumatizing wasn’t lost on Logan, if his sharp intake of breath was of any indication. But then again, that was no news; perhaps he was simply surprised that Romulus hadn’t been the only one to impart lessons. “And I know of no female enemies.”
Logan exhaled heavily. “So you don’t know her.”
“I don’t know her,” Daken confirmed. He wondered who she was, to make Logan think that the mere knowledge of her existence would send Daken running for the hills. He was, again, oddly touched by the care Logan was taking with this conversation; hell, it might even give him whiplash. “Why don’t you start at the beginning, Logan?”
“The beginning.” Logan nodded, then shook his head. “That would mean…” He groaned. He stank of shame, suddenly, and regret. Daken braced himself for the inevitable tale of woe. “That would mean that first I’d have to talk about something I’d wanted to say when you felt better, son, hell, I wanted to ask Jeannie to be there too -” Logan trailed off, grimacing.
Daken sighed. “Well, I’m most definitely seeing Grey right after this, Logan, so get on with it.” Logan was going to blurt out some apology or the other, he just knew it.
Logan wrung his hands. Dammit, he was really worked up over this. “I just don’t want this to be a footnote, son, because it’s not. I respect the issue, and I wanted to give it all the importance it deserved. Because you matter.”
Daken ducked his head, sudden heat rising to his cheeks. He felt warm all over, his breath caught in his throat. Ridiculous. It was ridiculous for him to be so affected by such a simple speech, when he didn’t even know what this was about.
How long had he wanted to just be taken seriously? For Logan to see, and act accordingly? Logan was showing more attention today than even after Daken’s suicide attempt. It stung, and his chest ached.
It wasn’t a bad sensation.
“You’re excused on account of the extenuating circumstances, Logan,” he manged to choke out. His voice felt thin, shattered. “Spill.”
Logan stayed silent for a long time, so long that Daken was about to tell him they didn’t have all day. Then he spoke up, slowly, and with great care.
“The day I took your claws,” was all he managed to get out, because Daken froze, every muscle taut. He didn’t comment as Daken fought to get his breathing under control, as he clenched his fists… the claws straining to get out.
Daken didn’t want to talk about this: this was the one single issue he didn’t want Logan to ever mention again. He’d decided to be above it, and that was final. His whole relationship with Logan, this fragile, strange, utterly mad thing they were building here, hinged on never acknowledging Logan’s worst crime.
“No,” he ground out. Faintly, he reached out for Grey.
Logan winced. “Son -”
Can you leave on your own? Grey said. Or do you want me there?
I… I don’t know. Louder, he enunciated: “No, Logan. Respect my boundaries.” Dammit, his voice shook.
You’re doing great. I’m on my way.
“Leave,” Daken said.
“I’m sorry, son.” Logan got up and walked away.
But he didn’t leave. He stood on the larger path, waiting; Daken felt his gaze on him. Perhaps he was worried Daken would harm himself; but Daken wouldn’t resort to that. At least he only had that response to certain things. He breathed, in and out, for what felt like aeons.
Logan yelped. Grey was striding towards them like a fury, her aura visible even to Daken, her hair floating. She looked absolutely furious. She reached Logan, who hastily got out of her way, but she stood there and grabbed Logan’s arm with a strength Daken didn’t think she had in her.
Her mind touched Daken’s gently, ever so gently. He was a whirlwind, a mess, and she soothed the wrinkles and waves, speaking calmly through the storm. He didn’t focus on the words, but on her voice, lulling him, in time with his breaths.
And in the background there were frantic whispers, as Grey evidently couldn’t hold two different telepathic conversations, not with the careful way Daken’s mind had to be navigated. Unfortunately, Daken still got his hypersenses. She must be assessing that he did hear them, but there was nothing to be done about it. She could only try to lower her voice more, but her rage made it practically impossible: it was a strained hiss, perfectly audible.
“Get inside, don’t make me make you.”
“I can’t, this is important -”
“He’s learning that his will is his own, Logan, and you can’t overrule his will. If he doesn’t want to talk about something with you, you don’t approach the subject, do you understand?”
“Dammit, read my mind!”
Silence. Daken breathed in and out as he felt Grey recede infinitesimally; he was calming down, so she could.
She exhaled.
“Betsy didn’t tell me...”
“Because then you’d have known when he still didn’t, and you’re his therapist. And that’s a relationship that should be built on trust, no?”
“Logan.” Grey’s voice was stern. “It doesn’t change the fact that he doesn’t want to talk about this with you. Get inside.”
“There’s a possible threat,” Logan whispered urgently. “I have to tell him, and if there’s a way to tell him without mentioning that day, tell me! I can’t just mention it without apologizing for it, dammit!”
“You think she’s a threat,” Grey said, serious.
“Don’t you? Feel her, in my mind.” Grey receded a little more from Daken, still brushing him soothingly. He felt better now, so it was a little redundant, but it did feel nice, and it meant he could still eavesdrop. “Dammit, she’s dangerous for sure. I don’t know about an immediate threat, but I know she can’t be trusted. And it’s a damn big thing to hide until he’s ready to talk about that other thing, and I will not hide anything from him anymore!”
That was what got to Daken. That fucking earnest and urgent whisper, as if Logan finally got it, as if he understood viscerally what he’d done wrong.
So he grit his teeth and composed himself. Grey was here, ready to catch him if he fell. If Logan really thought there was a threat, one linked to Romulus, he wanted to hear it.
If he had to suffer through Logan’s apology for that, so be it. And perhaps – there was a small, minuscule possibility – the apology would satisfy him.
He was only saddened that he’d have to postpone with Johnny: he wasn’t sure he’d leave this meeting unscathed.
He’d been so looking forward to seeing Johnny again.
“Logan,” he called out. Logan started and watched him warily; Grey hovered at the edge of Daken’s mind, and asked him: Are you sure?
He fervently hoped he was.
“I’ll hear you out,” he told his father.
Notes:
Next: apologies and realizations.
.
[We’re here, finally! It only took what, thirty chapters? Alas, Logan was being stubborn. What do you think? Will the oncoming conversation go well?
Let me know your thoughts, your comments always make my day! ^-^ ]
Chapter 35: Apologies and realizations.
Notes:
Did you see the news? Daken’s apparently going to feature in the coming Wolverine solo, together with Laura. To top it off, the writer’s talking about them as “a family”! I can’t wait.
Additional Warnings: panic attack, dry heaving, descriptions of child abuse.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
35.
They relocated to Grey’s office.
Daken felt exposed there on the lawn, vulnerable to prying eyes. He walked ahead of Grey and Logan, because he didn’t want to meet Logan’s gaze… it was enough to feel its weight as he quickly navigated the corridors, wanting to get this over with. He fished his phone out of his pocket and bit his lower lip as he pondered how to word the bad news.
Finally, he typed: ‘Rain check? I’m sorry.’
Johnny answered immediately. ‘Don’t be. Everything all right?’
Daken paused. Should he tell him? No lies. Never again lies. ‘I don’t know. But it’s okay, I’m with Grey.’ Johnny knew already that Daken was seeking help: at least the conversation Daken was planning wouldn’t come as a complete surprise. ‘Are you free tomorrow?’ He hoped he’d be functional the next day, anyway. And he yearned to see Johnny, now more than ever.
‘Of course. Take care. And call me if you need anything!’
Johnny. Daken’s chest ached and soared. ‘Tomorrow, then.’ He pocketed the phone with a sigh.
Just in time; he’d reached Grey’s office. He waited for her to open it, standing awkwardly beside Logan as they both carefully avoided eye contact, and then took his usual seat on her settee. Logan lowered himself to the chair in front of Grey’s desk; he was staring at the floor.
Grey put herself between them, her back to Logan. “Remember,” she told Daken firmly. “This ends when you say so.”
He nodded; he knew. He settled himself rigidly against the cushions – he couldn’t relax, not really; he had to put a conscious effort into working his body to a relatively comfortable position.
Grey smiled at him encouragingly; then she turned towards Logan and leant against her desk. “When you’re ready, Logan.”
Logan looked up from his hands, which he was keeping in his lap and studying with great interest, and met Daken’s gaze. His was earnest and frank enough that Daken managed to hold it.
He’d never noticed how bloody similar their eyes were. The same startling shade of blue, bright like a summer sky. The shape, of course, Daken had taken from his mother.
They were bound, he and Logan. They were blood, family. They’d gotten it all so wrong, again and again; Daken held a measure of blame as well. He wanted to try this.
Logan took a deep breath and released a bomb on him.
“I’m sorry I made you feel unsafe, son.”
It was so different from what Daken had expected him to say that he started, his spine snapping straight. He wasn’t simply taken aback – he’d thought Logan would apologize again for not listening, or perhaps for maiming him, or for lying – he felt an ache in his chest, a sting in his eyes, and he had no idea where were they coming from. Unsafe? What did that have to do with anything?
He looked away. “What makes you think -” he broke off; he couldn’t finish the sentence. He tried again. “Why -” A lump closed his throat. Panicked, he glanced up to see Grey’s gaze fixed on him, firm and comforting. He didn’t know what was happening; he didn’t know why Logan had said that, and he didn’t know why it made him feel that way, tense and… relieved? He felt such abject relief that he was having trouble sorting through his thoughts.
“A moment, Logan,” Grey said softly. Breathe, she added in Daken’s mind. In and out. Do you want to continue?
I don’t know what he means! He grabbed at the fabric beside him. Why was he so rattled?
Do you want to know what he means?
Yes. He gulped on air, his fingers tight ening around a cushion. Better the knowledge, always. He could have chalked everything up to Logan not understanding anything as usual , but his own reaction spoke of a different story. Yes.
All right. “Perhaps you could elaborate, Logan?” Grey suggested.
Logan heaved a heavy sigh. “When I... took out Romulus. I used you, deceived you for my plan -” He paused, for Daken was shaking his head. That had been normal… to be expected, even; Daken himself had tried to deceive Logan, to get to Romulus first. To take his vengeance –
“I don’t care about that,” he choked out. This wasn’t it. This wasn’t what was tearing at Daken, what was filling him with something he couldn’t name, with confusion, with an odd peace. “The point is that you took it from me. It should have been me.” That was safer ground: he knew that. He felt that. That betrayal: Logan’s crime. And afterwards, the lie.
“Yes,” Logan agreed. “I should have let you handle it. But that’s not the only thing I did to you, son.” Daken repressed a shudder; he remembered that day, it was seared in his brain. “I got it all wrong because I didn’t listen. I underestimated the damage and I hurt you even more than you already were. I stopped the threat and I got rid of the weapons and I thought I’d saved you, but that’s not what I did, did I, son?” Logan was speaking quietly, gently, and Daken was utterly under his spell, entranced by the words. “That’s not what you saw. What you saw was me disposing of a rival, taking his place, taking you as spoils of war. Disciplining an underling.”
Daken was reeling. The scent of his own blood in his nostrils, and that sickening sound as his flesh was parted, as the slick wrist-claw was dislodged from its place – Logan’s face swimming before his vision, stern and set on the task…
“I took his place, didn’t I, son? I was the new master. I made you feel unsafe. You were struggling to escape, to free yourself from him. And I just replaced him. I’m sorry.”
Logan fell silent. Daken only noticed because now he heard starkly these small, wet sounds. His hands were held by someone… Grey; there was her warm comforting presence at the edge of his mind, stopping him from spiraling into the darkness.
He remembered how he’d struggled as he nursed himself back to health, as he tried to make sense of what he felt – the cold betrayal, the terror, the relief at knowing Romulus was gone. He remembered how he’d rationalize as righteous fury the hysteria that took him whenever he recalled Logan’s impromptu surgery… or better yet, the punishment, a word that caught him unawares in the dead of night as he sweat off the fever from the metal poisoning. A word he’d blurted out to Logan nights ago, as he bled all his panic and resentment.
It seemed that Logan had listened to something Daken hadn’t even been aware of saying, of feeling.
Unsafe. That’s how he’d felt. Yes: now he recognized it. It was utterly ridiculous, because the scale was completely off. Logan had taken no place, he’d done nothing past that.
He’d just punished Daken. Made Daken feel as if he was being punished.
Unsafe. Yes; it rang true.
It was the hiccup that made him realize he was crying; and he must have been crying for quite some time, if the wet patches on his trousers were anything to go by. Logan sat in front of him, waiting, infinite sorrow in his gaze. There was no flinching from what he’d caused, but acknowledgment. It was… it made Daken feel seen.
It felt good, to feel seen.
“That was how he molded me,” he said, wanting to offer something. An explanation; for Logan to see even more. Logan’s gaze sharpened and he leaned towards Daken, wanting perhaps to get closer, to comfort Daken; wondering if he could, deciding against it. Daken dried his face with the back of a hand, though a few tears stayed stuck on his lashes.
Grey gently touched his mind. Are you sure?
Perhaps he hadn’t ever been so sure of anything in his life. It had felt… strange, and good, to dig out fragments of Akihira and Natsumi the other day, to present their memory to Logan like precious mementos of himself. He had to disclose himself to heal. Yes, Grey.
She arranged herself to face Logan again then, her hand inches from Daken’s. “You can ask, Logan.”
His father took a breath. “He molded you with… with punishment?”
Daken nodded, looking down at his hands. Now it was his turn to stare at his lap; he wasn’t sure he could face Logan. “Punishment was never nothing quite so simple as disciplining an underling,” he began quietly. “It was part of the training. My education was a delicate balance of punishment and reward. I couldn’t always anticipate the behavior that would get me punished, but there was always a… a lesson.” He shut his eyes, remembering. It was never deranged; there was method to the madness, if one dug deeper… he could see it, now. When there weren’t discernible motives, it was to throw Daken off the scent; to make him feel, indeed, unsafe. To make Romulus the compass of his health, the idol that controlled the tide; immutable, inscrutable. Something to never be understood, only feared.
He opened his eyes: Logan was studying him intently, his jaw clenched – his fist closed, white-knuckled. He looked old beyond belief. “What kind -” he broke off, shaking his head. He didn’t dare asking.
“What kind of punishment?” Daken returned his attention to his hands; they were shaking slightly. Phantom pain. It was the blessing and the curse of healing factors: you’d never show what you lived through. But the body remembered. “The first time -” he fell silent. Honestly, the first times had been better, in retrospective: the beatings, the physical torture, had come when he was more developed. Break a child too much and you’ll have a ghost, and Romulus… Romulus had wanted him functional. To the bare minimum, but functional all the same.
And the fact that he could still think something so insane filled Daken with rage. Abuse was abuse. Did it matter if the first times he hadn’t bled?
“At the beginning, I was given to women for a formal education.” A few disgraced geisha; he’d had to learn the art of seduction, in all its forms. Not that he’d tell Logan; not now, perhaps not ever. “They were Japanese,” he chose to focus on another facet of the abuse. “Mother figures, in the end. You can see where this is going.” Logan didn’t even need to know that Daken had killed Natsumi, or that up until Romulus had told him that Logan had killed his mother he’d thought she might have died giving birth to him. So subtle, too; he’d realized the purpose only when he’d discovered his life was all a lie.
Logan held his breath. Oh yes: he saw.
“I changed them every few months. The first time… when he told me to kill the first, I couldn’t. Physically, I could… I’d been trained in martial arts already. And I’d… I’d killed already. But she’d been nice to me. She wasn’t afraid of the pheromones; she’d helped me understand them.” Chiyoe – curious, he still remembered her name.
She called him Akihiro, when they were alone. Romulus called him Daken, but it hadn’t stuck yet; the old name was the last thread linking him to Akihira, and Daken had clung to it. Now that he thought about it, perhaps that had been a way to have Daken ritually kill that name, too. He’d certainly stopped using it shortly afterwards.
His own name. That, too, had been taken from him, to be replaced with a mockery to control him… to make him less than human…
Grey enveloped him. He shook himself and got back to his tale.
“So then he kept me chained to a pole all night, without clothes. I wasn’t given dinner, or breakfast, or lunch. I was young… I couldn’t go for hours without food at the time, the resistance training came later.” Though not that much later. “After all that, when I obviously couldn’t take it anymore, he put her in front of me and told me to stab her. I did.” She’d looked just like Natsumi in death… that had given him nightmares. Of course he’d learnt early on to hide them. And of course Romulus knew anyway, but if the attempt was good enough it didn’t matter. Until Romulus decided it wasn’t good enough, of course. “When it was done he fed me and dressed me and praised me. A few repeats of that and I took to it like he’d intended.”
That first time was also the first time he’d called Daken a good boy. He’d pulled Daken into his lap and he’d patted Daken’s hair and he’d kissed Daken’s forehead, and he’d fed him morsels of food and washed the blood off him and finally tucked him in.
That was the extent of his physical “affection” for a few years; at least that. At least he’d wanted Daken “willing” and, most importantly, skilled before taking him to bed –
Daken’s stomach lurched violently; he managed to slam a hand against his mouth just in time. He breathed – in and out, in and out – as Grey hovered by him, her presence a soft blanket that masked somewhat the pang of bile on his tongue. Daken, when… when you’re ready, we’ll have to talk about this too, Grey said softly.
I know. God, he knew. But not now… not now.
The heaving subsided, Daken realized that his eyes were squeezed shut; he opened them, finding his father frozen on the chair in front of him. He smelt of sorrow so stark it was almost suffocating, his face ashen.
He’s going to have a stroke , Daken thought, remorseful. He’d needed to talk about this, but perhaps… perhaps he should have warned Logan. He couldn’t be the only one with boundaries. Some of the old resentment resurfaced in protest – this was his life and Logan had no right to act as if it affected him – but it wasn’t that simple. And it was obvious that the idea of Daken subconsciously making parallels would shake Logan.
Daken lowered his hand from his mouth. “I appreciate your apology, Logan,” he said slowly. Logan came to life, his gaze finding Daken’s. “My reaction was visceral and I hadn’t even realized why until now. I’m sure you won’t do it again,” Daken offered.
Logan shook himself. “Son -” He held up a hand like a supplicant. Daken was struck by the urge to hold it; to squeeze it.
“You had no idea of the connotations,” he said instead. “It’s… it’s not all right, I can’t say that. But I acknowledge your apology, Logan.”
His father searched Grey’s gaze as if wondering what to do, lost; he must have seen in her eyes that this was still good, because he nodded and glanced at his lap again.
You’re doing great, Grey said. Do you want to continue?
The worst was behind them. Sure.
Grey hesitated. Before talking about the threat, there’s still another thing he needs to tell you.
The thing Braddock hid from you, he surmised. This couldn’t have been it, because Grey had been in his mind; she must have already known of the declawing, and she probably had divined the root of Daken’s problem with it too.
Yes. She sighed. To protect my relationship with you.
That was shrewd of Braddock. And probably the right call: if this turned out to be an even worse thing, he’d have shunned Grey for having hidden it from him. Let’s hear it, then.
All right. Grey sat up. “Tell him, Logan.”
Logan linked his hands on his lap and raised his head. “All right, son. Here’s… here’s the thing. Romulus came back, some time after… after that.” He waved a hand to convey their fight, the declawing. Daken’s blood run cold. “He went just after me and I managed to throw him into prison and now he is locked up real good,” Logan reiterated in an attempt to reassure him, “but he could have gone after you if he managed to overpower me. I should have warned you he was out. I’m sorry I didn’t.”
Daken inhaled sharply. The thought of what Romulus could have done to him… catching him unawares, after Daken had attempted to kill him…
He’d dodged a fucking bullet.
He dug his fingers into a cushion. “And why didn’t you warn me?” he said lightly.
Logan shook his head. “Honestly, son, it all happened so fast. Between the moment he attacked me and when I caught him… it was over in days. But I think… that subconsciously, I must have thought that if you’d killed him and taken his place… what you’d seemed to be wanting to do then… that would have destroyed you. I know how revenge poisons everything.” His eyes shone with sincerity and earnestness. He was truly lying it all bare, trying to clean the air. “That had been my reasoning before, too, when I… when I took your claws. I thought -”
“You thought I would turn into him.” Quod sum eris: the prospect was horrifying. It was true that he’d wanted to take Romulus’ place, that he’d thought he deserved it after all he’d endured. And he’d always thought he’d never cross some lines, but he saw now that there was no telling what murdering his abuser then, when he was bathed in rage, with no instrument to heal, would have done to him.
Of course, that wouldn’t have happened, not immediately. If Romulus had caught him unawares, he’d have beaten Daken into submission again. And so Daken would have become much colder… biding his time, damaged and tattered, a bundle of broken nerves. Romulus would have kept him on a tight leash.
“You should have told me he was out,” he said tightly. Logan nodded. Daken released the cushion, pondering his next words. “Your gut instinct was correct. I don’t know what I would have become… I know that I wouldn’t be what I am now. And I’m happy with what I am now.” It was a daily fight, but it was worth it. “But never do it again, Logan. Never.”
“I won’t,” Logan hastened to say. He was staring at Daken in wonder; perhaps he’d expected it would come to blows. “I swear. Son, there’s another thing -”
“Another?” Daken groaned. “You’re sparing me nothing, are you?”
“It’s connected.” Logan glanced at Grey, then back at Daken. “I know you won’t believe me, but please hear me out first.”
He supposed he could. “Speak.”
“I never lied about what I’d done to Romulus,” Logan said quietly. Daken pushed the annoyance down.
“You did kill him, but then he came back to life?” he offered. All right, if he thought about it, it wasn’t that out of the realm of possibilities. Not with the life they all led. Romulus was a titan, for God’s sake.
“No, I… put him in the Darkforce dimension. Through Cloak –”
Daken almost laughed out loud. Logan had put someone who was obviously a telepath where he could reach a person? So bloody short-sighted. No wonder Romulus had freed himself.
“So you did lie,” he ground out.
“No.” Logan shook his head. “When I found you, that day… I told you that he was gone. You assumed I killed Romulus. So I told you that no, he wasn’t dead, he was gone. I still didn’t tell you what I’d done to him because I didn’t want you to find him, but...”
“You’re lying,” Daken breathed. But he wasn’t: he didn’t smell of lie. But it wasn’t possible; Daken would remember –
Would he, though? Hadn’t they just established that damn meeting had done a number on him?
“I think it was a combination of the… psychological strain and the infection,” Logan was saying, quietly. “To… to cope, perhaps, your mind conjured the idea that… that Romulus was dead.” Daken stared. Every nerve in his body screamed unease at the thought that his mind would invent things. His mind was his own; the fact that he could warp reality, misremember things, was unsettling. But had it ever been his mind, really? Wasn’t it crawling with Romulus’ presence, even now -?
We’re eradicating him , Grey said. You’re safe, Daken.
Yes: that was true. The matter was being taken care of; Grey was the cure for the disease, his shining knight in white armor – cutting Romulus down one piece at a time.
“I suppose Jeannie could show you my memory,” Logan suggested gingerly, “If you don’t believe me -”
“No offense, Logan, but I don’t fancy reliving that day.” Daken grit his teeth; though they’d cleared the air, it was still a fresh wound. “If Grey confirms you’re telling the truth -”
“I do,” she said out loud, for Logan’s benefit.
“- then it’s fine by me. You never lied.” That was a relief, at least. It meant Logan had cared… had respected him enough not to deceive him, not on that; not on what really mattered.
Wait.
“You let me tear at you,” Daken breathed, incredulous. Logan’s gaze slipped to his lap again. “The other night, you let me tear at you. I could have stabbed you. You didn’t even dodge!”
Logan nodded, weariness on his features, and he shifted in his seat. “That’s right, son.”
“Why?” It made no sense. No sense at all. “You could have explained -” he trailed off. No, Logan couldn’t have, and Daken knew it. He knew that he wouldn’t have listened; not in that moment, with the wound freshly reopened.
“You were upset,” Logan said simply. “I glimpsed that thing about the punishment, and I guessed what might have happened, why you seemed so convinced I’d lied that day. You were a wreck, and I… I thought I should let you cope without forcing you to listen to me. I should take your rage and let you hate me, at least until you were well enough… well enough to let me explain.”
Logan’s cheeks were wet; Daken doubted his father noticed. He felt compelled to say something. “Logan -”
“I thought I should take responsibility, I should take this and be your father -”
Daken couldn’t take it anymore.
“You foolish old man.” He found himself getting up, striding towards his father. Logan looked up when Daken reached him, those bright blue eyes staring back at him as if Daken were gazing into a mirror. “You arrogant martyr asshole.”
“Daken.” Grey, softly.
“I don’t want a self-sacrificing scapegoat, Logan.” Daken grabbed his father’s shoulders, the contact startling them both as Logan’s eyes widened. “I don’t want you to take whatever I hurl at you because you weren’t there.” He choked on the last word, their shared grief immutable, what-should-have-beens that only made things worse. “I loathe when you do that, when you take it all on your shoulders because I’m your poor a-abused son.” He held his breath, because he’d had yet to use that word with Logan, but then he barreled on, knowing if he didn’t he’d just flee. “When you look at me like I’m broken. I’m a person and I’m healing and I want honesty. I want to know you’ll hold yourself accountable when you fuck this up, not when I think you did. I want you to tell me when I fuck this up.”
They stared at each other as Daken caught his breath. He didn’t know where that had come from, but he knew it to be true. He didn’t want his hand to be held, he didn’t want to be coddled.
He wanted the truth, always and completely. He’d lived enough without it.
His fingers were digging into Logan’s flesh and he relaxed his hold, realizing at the same time, with a jolt, that this was the first time he initiated contact with his father without it being violent. He’d let Logan touch him, in the med bay; he’d almost shuddered at the stark comfort that had given him. But this was different. This was him, touching Logan, and –
Now, his first instinct was to let go and step back but he held on, stupefied by how strange it was, how foreign, how welcome. To have this, unblemished by hate and resentment. To touch his own father.
He exhaled and squeezed; he watched the journey on Logan’s face, the puzzlement and shock and amazement, the longing. Grey left his mind, a brush so light he could almost miss it.
“I think I can do that, son,” Logan choked out.
“Good,” Daken said. “Because we have work to do. Now tell me what’s happening…” He hesitated. A word was on the tip of his tongue, a word he’d never used if not in mockery, a sharp jab whose sole purpose had only ever been to cut and make Logan bleed.
The edges softened, it felt the only word he could possibly use now.
“Tell me what’s happening,” he repeated, quietly, “father.”
Notes:
Next: A family meeting.
.
[He said that, he really did!
This was a really packed, emotionally draining chapter! I hope you found it satisfying. There’s still a lot to tackle but I think we’re on the right track.
Was there a moment you appreciated the most? Let me know what you think, your comments make my day! ^-^ ]
Chapter 36: A family meeting.
Notes:
Additional Warnings: drug mentions, discussions of dubcon.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
36.
“This Remus seems obsessed with you, son,” Old Logan said.
They were in the conference room; Pryde had just finished updating the X-Men. She’d jumped from the Soteira investigation to this new mad thing with no fuss, accustomed to the twists and turns of mutant affairs. She’d already dispatched a few teams to the locations Remus had given; the investors that were found had been given to the authorities, together with the one the X-Men still had in custody. Hank was trying to recover the deleted security feed from the facility Roston had been kept in.
They’d found his body, as Remus had told Logan, but there was no telling whether the corpse had been tampered with, or whether she’d taken something.
Pryde had managed to convince SHIELD to let the X-Men handle the corpse, on the account of it being dangerous for ferals and possibly other mutants; and on the account of Roston being disappeared from a SHIELD prison without no one being the wiser.
Being now in possession of Roston’s blood, Hank hoped amongst other things to be able to finally determine whether it was to be blamed for the disappearance of Daken’s pheromone manipulation. If even this turned out to be a goose chase, though, he’d suggest to seek in Daken’s psyche the reason for it, just as psychological strain had more than once caused Daken’s healing factor to malfunction.
Before the meeting, before Hank sent Roston’s body to his laboratory to examine him later, Daken had wanted to see it. It was pale and emaciated and not at all intimidating. Daken, pale and tight-lipped, had studied it from every angle and sniffed more than once and then, with studious but barely deceptive composure, had confirmed it was indeed Roston.
As the rest of the X-Men filed out of the conference room, the ferals threw glances at each other and decided unanimously to stay. Pryde had lingered just enough to say firmly that she expected them to report any decision they may come to, instead of going on a rogue mission. Then she’d left them to it.
So here they were: Laura, Daken, Logan, Jimmy, and Old Logan. Gabby had tried to get in, both at the beginning of the meeting and when the other X-Men left the room, but both times Jubilee had yanked her outside with a smile and a wink to Laura.
Gabby only wanted to help… but Laura couldn’t let her throw herself at this. It was different from the myriad of missions she’d already brought her little sister to; Romulus was dangerous (and she still recalled Daken frantically telling her to take Gabby and disappear when they’d all thought Romulus might have something to do with Soteira), and Remus must be as well.
Laura had yet to truly confront Daken about this new development; he seemed to be taking the news that Romulus had a sibling well enough, but she knew how he let things simmer. And seeing Roston’s corpse seemed to have taken him back to those drugged days; who knew how upset he truly was.
At least she knew that Jean was keeping an eye on him.
Logan groaned. “I told you to stop calling me son.”
“I can’t call you Logan, can I?” Old Logan scoffed. “And you’re younger than me.”
“You are me!” Logan threw up his hands. “And I’m almost two hundred, anyway. You can’t call me son.”
Beside Laura, Daken chuckled. “I’m seventy, but you don’t hear me complaining when you address me, Logan. Suck it up.”
Logan threw him a glance. “I can’t keep calling you that, son,” he murmured.
Daken stilled. Laura knew just as well as Logan the meaning of the Japanese slur Daken answered to, but she’d never dared bringing attention to it: she knew there was power in choosing one’s own name; she wouldn’t take it from Daken. Even if it cut at her to call him mongrel.
This wasn’t the place to address the issue, either; she feared the worst, but Daken merely exhaled. “Hold that thought,” he said, pensive. Laura angled herself in time to see him bite his lower lip.
Logan’s eyebrows shot up, then he nodded. Something was happening between them: Laura knew they’d cleared some air the day before; Logan had apologized, and it had even turned out that he’d never lied about Romulus. Daken had recounted part of their conversation with a quiet amazement, but this was the first time she saw them interact after that, and… yes, they were different. Daken seemed more relaxed.
She was unbelievably glad of it. She’d feared she’d never see the day, but here they were… not only civil, but with a strange, tentative camaraderie.
Then, of course, Logan just had to overdo it. “I could… maybe… tell you what me an’ your momma were thinking…?”
Daken tensed, his nostrils flaring, his jaw set. “No.”
Logan winced; Laura hoped he’d let the matter rest. It would be a damn shame to witness so soon the first crack in their newfound relationship.
“Sorry, son. It crossed my mind and -” Logan shook his head. “Sorry.”
Daken uncoiled. “Perhaps someday,” he offered quietly.
Just a few days ago, this exchange could only have backfired spectacularly; they seemed lost in a bubble now, as if Laura and Jimmy and Old Logan weren’t even there – gazing at what they’d both lost, and at what they could take away from it. She met Old Logan’s gaze; the man seemed to be studying her.
Well, he knew her predicament; he was there when Laura had recounted her findings, in those days before Logan came back to them.
She didn’t know what held her back – what prevented her from telling Logan the truth that had been in their hearts from the start, the truth that they’d never needed in order to care about each other.
Or perhaps she did know, as Jubilee had suggested the other day: she’d gingerly said that perhaps Laura felt that this was Daken’s moment, the knitting back of a relationship that had been viciously torn apart, and that maybe Laura didn’t want to ‘steal the spotlight’. A worry that Daken himself would have deemed ridiculous, but Laura had to admit it might very well be behind her reluctance.
“You’re still taking care of him,” Jubilee had added quietly. “That’s great, that’s a beautiful thing. But I don’t think he’d want you to hold this back for his sake. He loves you too.”
That he did. He was her brother, and he had her back. Just as she had his.
And it was all bundled up, anyway. It was a miracle to have Logan back, but she’d grown while he was gone. She wasn’t that scared little girl anymore, and he looked at her with an ill-conceived amazement that made her feel uneasy, because she wasn’t perfect. She made mistakes; she’d made a lot of mistakes with Gabby, for instance. And she didn’t put Logan on a pedestal anymore, knowing his shortcomings, but he seemed to be putting her on one –
Yes, she knew she had to talk with Logan soon.
“We’re getting sidetracked,” Old Logan said, still watching her; then he glanced at her brother and father, who shook themselves.
“Yes, sorry.” Logan sighed. Daken brushed an arm against hers, perhaps seeking comfort, perhaps seeking to comfort her; he must have sensed some of her inner turmoil. “Remus, obsessed with me,” Logan summarized. "Got it.”
He seemed unfazed; he was, after all, accustomed to such things. Romulus himself had planned half his life, so it wasn’t a stretch of the imagination to think Remus held similar interests.
“Not like you’re thinking,” Jimmy interjected. He sat with his arms crossed, his alert eyes jumping between the two counterparts. “I agree with Old Logan, but there’s something else. She came to you, specifically, both times. This last time she ignored your partners and made advances. And in your fragmented memories she seemed to be all over you, right?”
The telepaths had taken a look. The memories of working with the twins and deciding to undergo the Weapon X experiment weren’t fabrications, apparently, but they were also hazy, as if Logan hadn’t been himself at the time.
What Jimmy was implying –
“You think she... wants Logan?” Laura said quietly, leaning forward. It wasn’t, perhaps, a stretch of the imagination; as Jimmy had pointed out, she’d acted possessively. Both Kurt and Ororo held an uneasy air as they reported the encounter.
Logan’s gaze jumped between all of them, his brow furrowed.
“She ‘got’ me already.” He shook his head, his nose crunched. “After Romulus was taken care of. We… celebrated.”
Old Logan snorted. “Can’t say we’re difficult to sleep with, son, but even I would think twice at rolling in the hay with someone related to this fella.” Romulus either didn’t exist in his world or had never shown himself; Laura hoped for the former. She wondered if Daken even existed in Old Logan’s world, but they hadn’t gotten that far as to talk about his mother, at least not to her knowledge. “You were careless.”
Logan shrugged. “I wasn’t thinking with my brain, evidently. She’s stunning –”
“Yes,” Old Logan laughed, “You don’t need to explain to us how it works, son.”
Daken still hadn’t offered any insight; that was strange. As the others kept talking about Remus, Laura turned to watch him. She found him almost withdrawn, a distant look in his eyes. He met her gaze and shook his head, crossing both legs and arms.
Not at all placated, nonetheless Laura could recognize that this wasn’t the time. She tuned back to the conversation: they were still debating what had possessed Logan to sleep with Remus.
Despite a few uncomfortable comments, they discarded the idea that Remus herself could have put the thought in him. Braddock had already checked, apparently, when Logan had expressed doubts. Remus hadn’t tried anything while Logan was under Romulus’ sway, decades before; and even though, when she’d sought out Logan’s “help” to stop Romulus, she’d most certainly confounded him, she also hadn’t done anything to make him bed her.
“She’s taken with you, enough that she doesn’t want to overtly manipulate you,” Jimmy said. Old Logan looked pensive; Logan’s eyebrows were reaching his hairline. “This gives us an edge. She is bound to reach out to you again, eventually. And when she does -”
“- we’ll be ready.” Old Logan nodded. “We should interrogate her twin, too. See what he has to say about her.”
“He’ll lie,” Logan said. “The minute he understands we’re looking for her.”
“Or perhaps he’ll want to get back at her. No?” Jimmy’s gaze run over them all, stuttering on Daken before reaching Logan. He must have sensed there was something wrong; Laura, too, was frazzled, the silence beside her deafening, eerie, and ultimately worrying. By this point – with such an overt mention of his old tormentor – Daken should have been reacting in some – any – way. But there was nothing.
Was he holding back to avoid confrontation on the subject, mindful of his breakdown in this very room just a few days prior? Or had he made some peace with what Romulus had done to him?
No. Even if Laura wanted nothing more than for him to finally face and overcome that trauma, she knew that wasn’t the case, not yet at least. Was he pushing it all under the carpet again? Or perhaps he was still thinking about Roston -?
She met Logan’s gaze. He, too, his brow furrowed, was surreptitiously glancing at Daken. No reaction even to that; Laura bit her lower lip and threw her brother a look. He just shook his head again.
She exhaled.
“Even if he’s pissed with her, he could still lie,” Logan said, returning his gaze to the others. “I wouldn’t trust anything he says.”
“We have telepaths, though,” Old Logan pointed out. “They got the truth out of him already, I say let them squeeze him for this too.”
And that was the end of it. They decided that, for now, they’d wait for Hank’s results and ask Jean or Braddock to go to the prison again – Rachel was still out of the question, apparently. It seemed that Jean wanted to protect her daughter from the brunt of Romulus’ overbearing mind, especially with the way Rachel had taken to heart Daken’s plight and the way she’d reacted while they were all in Daken’s mind.
Daken got up and left without a word.
Laura exchanged a glance with Logan; he nodded at her, obviously afraid of being too overbearing and shattering what he’d so recently built with Daken.
She went after her brother.
She found him climbing the stairs; for a moment, recalling that Johnny Storm was coming over in a few hours, she thought he wanted to go get changed in his room – and brood alone in the darkness without asking for help – but he appeared to be heading for Jean’s office.
That alone was a relief.
He accepted her presence at his side without comment; she followed him silently for a few minutes. Finally, as they reached his destination, she spoke up.
“You got very quiet at the end there.”
Daken hummed. “I was talking with Grey.”
Well, that was even better. It meant he’d recognized he was upset and reacted accordingly.
“Is everything all right?” Laura murmured. It was amazing he was seeking and getting professional help, but she was still his sister. She was there for him.
Daken finally turned to face her. His features were… soft, as he regarded her. He thrust his hands in his pockets. “I’m sorry I worried you. I -” he hesitated. “I don’t want to overwhelm you. It’s not fair to you.”
“But I’m here for you,” she said stupidly. She felt hollowed inside. She had his back. She’d always had.
He was finding others to hold onto. And it was beautiful and she was glad but it saddened her, too.
“I know.” He reached out, caught her arms. “You’ve always been. And you always will. But you can’t take all my problems on your shoulders, Laura, I can’t let you,” he said softly. “I won’t do that to you. You have your life and I burdened you enough.” She nodded mutely. She got it, she really did. And it filled her with such joy to see him thrive, to see him heal, but they were family. They had each other.
“You never burdened me,” she said, because it was true. She’d always been there for him, ever since their fateful meeting in Madripoor. They were blood.
More than they’d initially thought.
Daken smiled. “Thank you. But I’m… still not sure, myself. I’m doing a lot of thinking, Laura.” He squeezed her arms. “When I know what this is, I’ll tell you. I promise.”
Again, she nodded. He looked pensive, amazed and confused, in turmoil. Something had touched him. Something they’d said in the conference room, perhaps? His silence had begun as they talked about Remus. He’d said he didn’t know her; perhaps he’d suddenly remembered that he did?
After all, whatever he’d been mulling over had been enough to make him contact Jean –
Jean would take care of it. Of him.
He cocked his head. “Laura?” he murmured. “This goes both ways, you know. You can tell me. What has you so bothered? You’ve been upset for days.” And he was, she could see, hurt that she hadn’t loaded her worries unto him.
And because he was her brother and he was asking and she’d been holding back for days and they were blood, she finally blurted out the truth that had rattled her so. “I’m your sister,” she said, breathless.
Daken’s smile was a radiant, comforting thing. “I know. I’m here for you, too. Let me -”
“No, I’m your sister.” She grabbed at his arms. “While we looked for Logan… Tony Stark found a mutant database… it’s not important.” She took a breath. “Sarah… Sarah Kinney messed with Logan’s DNA more than we thought. She’s my mother.” That, too, she had yet to confront. “She’s genetically my mother. I’m not Logan’s clone, I’m his – their – daughter. I’m your sister, Daken...”
She found herself, suddenly, enveloped by Daken’s arms. She’d watched the journey on his face, the confusion and the understanding and the elation, and now he was pulling her into an embrace, his hold fierce. “You’ve always,” he whispered furiously, “been my sister. Do you hear me?”
A sob escaped her lips, stark relief running in her veins. She hadn’t known how bothered she’d been until now, until she’d confronted him with the truth. “Yes,” she mumbled against his chest.
She’d always clung so hard to her humanity, to those who shared her blood. She’d fought to finally allow herself to see them as family. And all of them had so readily welcomed her, so readily named her their own. There was no need, no need at all for the news to have changed anything… but this final confirmation had taken her breath away. She was a Kinney, and a Howlett, through and through.
They were bound.
She broke the embrace, her cheeks wet. Daken studied her intently, tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.
“You haven’t told Logan,” he stated.
She could only nod mutely.
His gaze softened. “You think this would change anything? He loves you, you know.”
He did. Too much, perhaps, and unconditionally, like she could do no wrong, but – he deserved to know. And yet, and yet…
Daken saw; perhaps she’d made a face. He blinked, obviously taken aback. “For me? You’re holding back on him for me?”
She wrapped her arms around herself. “Jubilee thinks I don’t want to steal your chance with Logan. I think she might be right. This is your moment, you’re finally talking, you’re opening up –”
She trailed off; he was shaking his head.
“You’re not stealing anything,” he murmured. “I might have been jealous of you once… before I met you, when I thought you were just daddy’s little girl.” He grimaced, smelling ashamed at the memory. “But we’re family, Laura. And I’m glad for you.” He bent to place a kiss on her forehead.
She felt her heart constrict.
“Don’t hold back for my sake,” he added, straightening up. “Logan and I… we’re going at our own glacial pace; you can’t possibly want to wait that long.” He smirked, that old trademark smirk of his.
She exhaled. Still, she rolled on the balls of her feet, seeing the melancholy beneath the reassuring façade, the way his body was angled towards Jean’s office.
But… h e was right. She didn’t want to put this on him – he was obviously bothered by the idea of loading whatever he was going through on her again. He’d found another outlet, and she could still be there for him while taking care of herself.
She ought to.
“Okay,” she said then. “I’m going. Have a good session.”
He nodded, distracted, his body completing its turn; but then he stopped, a hand around the knob, and looked back at her. “I’m going to be fine, sister. Don’t worry.” He smiled at her, and she believed it.
So she let him go inside.
She exhaled. She’d see Jubilee and check on Gabby and then…
Then, she had a long-postponed meeting to organize.
Notes:
Next: A daughter and her father.
.
[I really enjoy writing the sniktblings. I guess you might have already noticed that.
Was there a moment you appreciated the most? Let me know what you think, your comments make my day! ^-^ ]
Chapter 37: A daughter and her father.
Chapter Text
37.
Some time later, Laura found Logan in the kitchen.
He was having lunch with Ororo and Kurt, obviously trying to hold onto a layer of normalcy. But, just as obviously, he was distracted, fidgeting and looking around from time to time. Ororo sat beside him, her arm brushing comfortingly against his; Kurt, opposite them, had the final part of his tail wrapped around Logan’s calf.
Logan smelt Laura coming and turned to face her as she approached them. Ororo smiled at her and Kurt patted the seat next to him. After a moment of deliberation, Laura sat down. During this, Logan had never stopped staring at her.
“Hey,” he said softly. She cocked her head in greeting. “You… managed to talk with Daken?” Logan asked hesitantly. “Everything all right?”
“He was actually going up to talk with Jean,” Laura explained. Logan visibly relaxed, relieved just as she’d been at the notion that Daken would seek help so readily. “I didn’t keep him.”
“It’s good, right?” Logan looked at his partners. Kurt smiled and nodded.
“It’s very good.” Ororo linked their fingers.
Logan sighed; he returned his attention to Laura. “You want to have lunch with us?” There was a desperate light in his eyes. Of course he’d noticed, over the course of the last few days, that Laura was holding back.
She was here to rectify that.
“No, I don’t want to impose,” she said, because this was still a moment just for the three of them and it was so rare to have some peace; they should enjoy it. Logan’s face fell, but she held up a hand. “But listen, Logan, I was thinking… do you have some time later? I wanted to show you something. And… talk.” She ducked her head.
Logan beamed, utter relief in his features. “Sure, darling. I’d love to.”
They agreed to meet in the hangar in an hour, so she left; she still had to make final arrangements and check in with Gabby. Her sister was ready and excited, her pink backpack full. Laura left her with Jubilee – who was doing her such a big favor, and Laura’s heart swelled with love – and then returned to her room to get changed from her costume.
When she was done she hovered by Daken’s door. He was already back from his session; she’d heard him coming in, and now he was moving in the room, likely getting ready for Storm’s arrival. It seemed that he was adjusting the furniture and fussing over what to wear. It was wonderful to witness him being so lively after worrying herself sick. She knocked.
He opened the door with five different shirts dangling from an arm, three different belts from the other – they’d gone and retrieved some of his clothes from a safehouse earlier that week – and wearing a disheveled look. His hair was wet and it looked like he still hadn’t decided how to style it. He was wearing only one sock.
She couldn’t help it, the tension getting the better of her: she snorted, delighted and relieved. He followed her glance down to his feet and cursed.
He was happy to see her, seemingly more relaxed than earlier that day, but with a pensive expression permanently fixed on his features. Again, she wondered what was happening with him, but she had to trust Jean… and him.
So she told him her plan.
He approved of her idea, and said he’d do his best to be there. Storm was coming, though, so he shoved her unceremoniously out of his room, saying he’d ask for her ‘atrocious advice on clothing’ only when he was ‘truly desperate’ and she was ‘no one to talk’.
Classic deflecting, but she’d let him do it. She trusted him.
Twenty minutes later she reached the hangar, Logan waiting for her at the entrance. He followed her to the small jet she’d been assigned and… asked no questions during the flight, apparently content with letting her set the rhythm of their interaction.
Now that they were almost there she felt jittery, but she knew this was the right thing to do. At least the silence wasn’t uncomfortable; they’d always been able to sit quietly for hours on end, especially on rooftops. Death hadn’t taken that away from them.
She landed them in a small clearing and led him past the gates; he did a double take at realizing where they were headed. But he still couldn’t possibly imagine their destination and when, a lump in her throat, she stopped in front of Sarah Kinney’s tomb, she heard his breath stutter in recognition.
He stood beside her, a silent pillar of strength, and waited for her to find her bearings.
She was still so overwhelmed at the sight; so grateful for its existence. She came here as often as she could, which wasn’t as often as she’d have liked; but she hadn’t come since before her discovery, busy as she was first with finding Logan and then with finding Daken, and then hiding behind her worry for both.
There were fresh flowers; her aunt, of course, came much more often.
“When you died,” she began, softly, and Logan shifted, listening to her, “I was so angry. I thought you’d abandoned me; I didn’t know what to do with myself. There were still so many things I wanted to tell you… things I wanted to shout, too. I was…” She wrapped her arms around herself. “… so very angry.”
Logan made a motion – perhaps he wanted to lay a comforting hand on her shoulder – and inhaled to speak. She shook her head.
“No, please, let me talk. I need to get this out of my chest.”
“Sure thing, darling.” Logan’s hand dropped to his side. Laura took a shaky breath.
“I felt abandoned from before your death. You were so hurt by Daken’s death, by your hand in it….” She felt his full-bodied flinch. “You didn’t notice. I was… floating, and you didn’t notice. You’ve always believed I was made of sterner stuff. You took great care of me,” she hastened to say, because she had no intention to hurt him. “But deep down, you’ve always… held me to this high standard. I was the one who’d overcome horrible things and had come out functional. I made mistakes, but you were always there for me… in a way you’ve never been there for Daken, not really.” Logan made a wet, pained sound and she reached out, grasped his hand reassuringly. “I resented that. I felt for him. I was uncomfortable and scared. I pushed you away, too… you didn’t notice. It wasn’t your fault. You were grieving and -” She shook her head. This, she had do dredge out of herself. “For the longest time, I resented you for what happened with Arcade. I thought that if you hadn’t been so caught up in Daken’s death, you’d have noticed I’d disappeared.”
Logan choked out a sob. “Laura, I’m so sorry.”
“It’s all right.” She squeezed his hand. “I know that was irrational. I’m… I’m not telling you this to hurt you, Logan, I’m so sorry. I just want you to understand what I was going through before you died.” Logan took a breath; she sensed him nod. “And then…” she resumed, “then you were gone. It was hard, Logan. I clung to Daken and I fought and I bled but I found peace, too. And then… when you came back...” She clenched her jaw. “You look at me like I’m this extraordinary thing beyond reproach. I’m human, Logan. I’m just like you. I make mistakes. I resent and I hate and I’m irrational. I’ve been horribly irrational with you ever since you came back. And seeing you look at me like that, like I’m perfect, only exacerbated it and I’m so sorry, Logan. I’m sorry I did this to you. But do you see it? Do you see me for what I am, with all my cracks, and not for what you think I am?” Breathless, she tasted salt on her tongue as her mother’s tomb swam before her vision.
Logan started. “Laura.”
She dried her tears with the back of a hand. “Yes.” She held her breath. Did he see? Did he understand?
“Laura, darling,” Logan breathed. “I’m sorry I made you feel this way. I… I never wanted to hurt you. I’ll do better… I promise.”
She nodded. “I know. I made my peace with all that. And I see you… I know how hard you’re trying, Logan. And it was absurd of me to hold you to this without telling you what was wrong.”
“I understand, darling. I’ll do better.” Logan cleared his throat; he must be holding back tears. She felt for him. “I look at you like that because I’m proud of you, Laura. I’m so, so proud of what you’ve become.” Laura’s chest ached at the statement. She’d surmised that, and it made her feel accomplished, but at the same time it was suffocating. Logan couldn’t do anything by halves. “Exactly because you’ve overcome such terrible things. But I shouldn’t put all that pressure on you. I’m sorry, Laura.” Hesitantly, he stepped beside her and wrapped an arm around her shoulders.
She melted into his embrace with a sigh. “I love you, dad.”
His breath hitched. “I love you too, darling.”
They stood silent for a while, gazing at her mother’s tomb. When she thought she could be able to speak again, she wet her lips. “It cemented, after you died. That you were my father. That that was how I felt about you. Perhaps I’d tried so hard not to let myself think those words, before, but when you were gone… I regret never telling you.”
“It’s all right, Laura. I’m here now.” Logan squeezed her shoulder. “You’re my daughter. I’ve always thought so. And I’m sorry I didn’t tell you this enough.” He’d adopted her, some time before his death. Made it official. But they’d never exchanged these words.
They’d needed them.
She took a breath. “While we were looking for you,” she began, and in the way she was bracing herself he felt this was something momentous for her, and he kept holding her just right, “we found a mutant database. It got destroyed, but Tony Stark… he was with us… he managed to recover some data.” She paused. Logan waited patiently, even though she could smell he was confused and wondering what she was getting at. “He discovered that Sarah’s DNA mixed with yours, in me. He discovered that I’m not your clone. I’m… she’s my mother,” she choked out, staring in front of her, recalling her mother, her sacrifice. Recalling the warmth of the clone the Orphans of X had tricked her with, an aching nostalgia she still couldn’t dispel. “You’re my father, by blood.”
Logan held his breath. “It makes no difference,” he managed to exhale, even though he held her more tightly. “You’ve always been my daughter.”
“I know.” She laid her head on his shoulder. “But it touched me, Logan. I don’t know if I can explain why, exactly. You’ve always been there for me, and Deborah and Megan always acted like I was family. Daken, too. I don’t think being a clone invalidates all that, Gabby is my sister,” she said fiercely. “But it’s different, knowing that Sarah contributed to me just as much as you. I wonder if she knew… if she did it on purpose.”
She gazed down at her mother’s tomb, her chest aching with love.
“She loved you,” Logan stated simply. Laura shut her eyes, overwhelmed, almost swaying.
“Yes. Yes, she did.” She’d died for Laura. Laura would remember her for as long as she lived. “Anyway, I… I wanted to introduce her to you.” She reached up and caught Logan’s hand, and wrapped her free arm around his waist.
Logan kissed her temple. “And I’m honored, darling. Thank you.”
They stood like that for a while. She felt weightless now, the constriction in her heart gone. She’d needed this; they’d needed this. She was glad she’d relieved herself of that strange feeling and she was glad she’d told Logan. These past few weeks had been a nightmare of jumbled thoughts and words held back. None of them deserved miscommunication and awkward silences. They were bound, and they were family, and they deserved each other.
Eventually they had to move. They disentangled themselves; Logan took a few steps closer to the headstone and bent his head. Laura gave him some space, grateful for the moment; something clenched in her at the sight of her father paying his respects to her mother whom he’d never met. They were her family, and she wouldn’t have it any other way. She was glad, glad to have stitched them all back together.
When he was done he went back to her, his eyes bright with love. “Thank you, Laura. You did me a great honor.”
She smiled. “Do you want to meet the rest of the family?”
She’d asked Deborah if she could bring Logan over; Gabby and Jubilee should be already there. Daken, too, would hopefully come, when he was done with Johnny Storm.
She wanted this so much. She wanted to see her family together, finally, and bask in their sight. She wanted to be surrounded by them all.
She’d asked Jimmy, too, but he had declined with a grimace, and she understood; she wouldn’t force him to embrace their family.
She looked upon Logan and her father exhaled, his features alight with giddiness and warmth.
“I’d love to, darling. Lead the way.”
Notes:
Next: Daken bares himself to Johnny.
.
[You guys. You guys.
I’m forever bitter that a whole year after Logan’s return Marvel still hasn’t given us their reunion. Laura was a mess when Logan died, she was so off-kilter. And now they all live together on the island and they still haven’t talked on panel! I hope the new Wolverine writer will see to that.
Was there a moment you appreciated the most? Let me know what you think, your comments make my day! ^-^ ]
Chapter 38: Daken bares himself to Johnny.
Notes:
So.
As my long-time readers know, I headcanon Daken as asexual. Ties that bind has already featured some lines that headed in that direction, but this chapter makes it “official”, although the word still isn’t used. The issue will be further explored in later chapters, of course.Additional Warnings: discussions of emotional/sexual abuse, mention of drug use.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
38.
“We could do something else,” Johnny said softly.
Daken shook his head. “No. No, it’s all right. I need to do this.” He proceeded not to do it, opting instead for resuming his nervous pacing of the room.
Johnny waited patiently, nothing but understanding in his lovely eyes.
He’d arrived on time – Daken had just barely managed to make himself presentable, tying his hair in a bun at the last moment – and Daken had sat him down on a chair and told him he needed to tell him something.
That was ten minutes ago.
Johnny had watched him pace and fidget, push items back and forth on the desk and the dresser, and open his mouth just to close it a million times. And he hadn’t said a word, or looked at his phone, or shown signs of restlessness. He was just there… waiting.
Daken was rattled. He felt out of his depth, his silver tongue resting like lead in his mouth. He felt – he knew – he needed to get things out of his chest, but he was terribly afraid. Perhaps he feared Johnny would just leave, or hate him.
“Just start talking,” Grey had told him gently. “Words will come.”
Easier said than done. And this reluctance was ridiculous, because he wanted Johnny to know him… to truly see him. Johnny still didn’t, really; Daken had always hidden himself behind quips, and manipulation, and bravado. And Johnny deserved the truth. If they were going to do this, anyway.
Whatever this was.
And what he’d been talking about with Grey a few hours ago didn’t help. If his hunch turned out to be true, he had a lot of work ahead of him. If he really wanted Johnny – not as a friend, but as something more – was he prepared to ask Johnny to sacrifice such an important aspect? ... or to negotiate, maybe; he still didn’t know.
Would it be fair to Johnny?
The real question probably was: did Johnny want whatever this was just as much as him?
Decades of training told Daken that he did. The way he talked, the way he moved… angling himself closer, his breath hitching, his eyelids lowering as he followed Daken’s every movement, a faint blush on his cheeks. His attention wasn’t even exceedingly sexual; Johnny seemed to be more interested in him than his body. It had been Daken to ruin everything in more ways that one, years ago. But here and now, if Johnny were to say he just wanted friendship and occasional sex, that would probably make Daken pause…
- hell, who was Daken kidding, he still would content himself with that just to be close to Johnny –
… But Johnny didn’t. He’d proved time and time again that he valued Daken. That he was willing to forgive him… that he’d already done so. That he missed Daken.
And oh, how achingly Daken had missed him.
He just had to take a leap.
“I’m fucked up,” he murmured, coming to a stop in front of Johnny. Johnny started and made to protest, but Daken shushed him gently. “No, it’s just the truth. I’m a certified mess. I’m traumatized, Johnny. I’m working on it, but I’m bound to falter for a long, long time. And I didn’t want… I don’t want to use you like a crutch. I don’t want to use you anymore. I regret what I did to you so much,” he choked out, an unbearable weight in his chest as Johnny’s gaze turned gentle. “So much, Johnny. I hate that I hurt you.”
“I know,” Johnny interjected softly, “You told me.”
Daken really ought to ask Grey if she could dredge out of him the memories of his phone calls to a dead man’s phone.
“Well, I can’t never say it enough times.” Daken balled his fists. “And that doesn’t… doesn’t count. It wasn’t a conscious decision, I was rambling.”
“I’d say it counts. It was you, unfiltered. It was what you felt.” Johnny laced his fingers in his lap. “But I get what you mean. This right here is a conscious decision to hold yourself accountable.”
“Yes,” Daken exhaled. Johnny got it. “Let me say it and remember it this time. I’m sorry, Johnny.” Just saying it made him breathe easier. “I’m sorry I hurt you and your family.”
“I accept your apology,” Johnny said easily. “Can I say something?”
“Yes. Yes, of course.” Daken found he needed the brief respite; he fell heavily upon the bed, his eyes never leaving Johnny’s face.
Johnny cocked his head. “I’ve had… my long share of people hurting me. Emotionally, I mean.” He grimaced, and Daken wanted to brutally murder whoever had Johnny looking like that. “And using me. I’ll tell you, one day. But I’m sure of one thing; I’m more mature, now.” Johnny’s gaze turned pensive. “I know what I’m getting myself into, Daken. I know you’re… hurt, and struggling. It doesn’t scare me. I want to be there for you, truly, if you let me. Not as a crutch, as a… support. Right beside you.”
Daken’s breath caught. He had to shut his eyes, overwhelmed. He felt an encouraging brush against his mind – Grey was checking his surface thoughts, though she’d said she wouldn’t listen. He must be broadcasting how intensely and terribly he was feeling.
God, he wanted. He wanted so much. He wanted Johnny.
“I want to give you everything,” he dredged out of himself, opening his eyes. Johnny was gazing upon him adoringly. Daken was suddenly starkly, gloomily glad he hadn’t regained the use his pheromones yet, or he just knew that he’d find himself questioning the validity of Johnny’s feelings. “I’m scared. I’m scared I’ll scare you.” That, too, was good to say out loud.
“Nothing you say will make me feel any less about you,” Johnny breathed. They still hadn’t said… Neither of them had dared to utter anything. But was that how Daken felt? He didn’t… he didn’t know. He had to find out.
“I’m seventy,” he blurted out, because he had to start from something . “I was born in 1946.”
Johnny’s smile was the brightest, softest thing Daken had ever witnessed. “Okay.” He was half Daken’s age, but that didn’t seem to be deterring him.
“My pheromones… when they come back. If they come back.” Perhaps it would be easier if they didn’t. Could he live without them? If it made Johnny stay, could the loss be worth his peace of mind? “We’ll have to be careful. I don’t want to influence you. Ever.”
“We’ll play it by ear.” Johnny just kept smiling, reverent and overjoyed. It was stunning. It took Daken’s breath away, made his heart clench. “I trust you.”
Daken grasped at his knees, knowing what had to come next. It was inevitable: Johnny was a hero.
“I killed,” he said. “I killed so many people. I… I liked it, Johnny.”
“I know, Daken.” Here, Johnny did seem vaguely uncomfortable, but then he leant towards him with an encouraging smile. “We’ll work something out. You’re working on that, too? With Jean Grey?”
That was a whole other can of worms. One he’d sworn to tell Johnny, too.
“I was trained to kill from when I was ten. I don’t know how much of my liking it comes from that.” Laura had never liked it, though. It must be in him… it hadn’t been the result of the training. After all: “I had killed before,” he confessed.
Johnny’s eyes flashed. Daken could see the struggle in them: rage on Daken’s behalf, wonder at what had transpired to make him a murderer so young. And Daken didn’t want to make excuses. But Grey had made him see how masterfully he’d been set up, too.
“I killed a bully,” he began. “I was bullied, growing up. After my mother’s death I was dropped on a pair’s doorstep. It was a village in Japan. I was a mixed child in post-war, rural Japan.” He wrapped his arms around himself. He wanted to look anywhere but at Johnny, but he wouldn’t flee from this. He’d sworn to tell Johnny everything, let him decide with all the information. “Then I killed my adoptive brother. An infant. My adoptive mother wanted to replace me. She was scared of my pheromones, terrified. I couldn’t control them…” He shut his eyes. They’d fucked it all up, that was the truth. He would have always been a stranger in that house, people would have always wondered if he was the result of one of them cheating or worse, but Akihira had loved him. If there hadn’t been pheromones, if Natsumi hadn’t felt the anger and pain he was feeling, without understanding what was happening to her… she’d have been manageable, perhaps. Softer. “And I killed my adoptive mother by accident,” he finished the list, his fists tightening around the fabric of the duvet. “She tried to kill me when she discovered what I’d done to her child. My claws came out for the first time. And then my father… he shot himself.”
Something touched his fingers and he jumped, his eyes fleeing open. Johnny was kneeling on the floor in front of him, a hand gingerly laid on Daken’s… nothing but warmth and understanding in his eyes. It was almost too much.
Almost.
“What happened to you was terrible,” Johnny said, his fingers brushing reverently against the back of Daken’s hand. “I can’t… I won’t hold you accountable for anything that happened, Daken. You were so small and you were alone.”
“My father loved me,” Daken choked out, lost in the sensation of Johnny’s warm hand. “It should have been enough.”
Johnny shook his head. “You were trapped… controlled from the shadows. You were never going to come out on top.” That was exactly what Grey had told him… Romulus had set him up to fail. Put him where he would form cracks already, so as to make him more receptive. He might even have been lurking from the shadows…
Nothing Romulus ever did was accidental.
Johnny’s words caught up with him. “Wait. You know about -” Daken trailed off, dreading to evoke such a cursed presence between them. Had he mentioned Romulus on those phone calls, too?
“I know that this... man,” Johnny grimaced, “this monster trained you to kill since you were a kid. And I know he’s in prison now. Last week Pryde thought he’d had to do with Soteira,” he explained, “so she told us -”
“I loved him.” Daken had to say it quickly, because if he stopped to think about what he was saying, he’d never do it.
He began shaking.
It was the darkest, most terrible truth, one he hadn’t yet addressed with Grey. But Grey knew anyway. Grey, and Braddock, and Summers: they all knew; they’d seen it in his mind. And in Romulus’, probably. That was the truth, the real horror.
Johnny inhaled, perhaps to tell him that it was all right… that of course anyone would love the man who brings them up, regardless of how much they get hurt. But reality was much more sordid, and horrifying.
“He groomed me, Johnny. From when I was ten. The only person I’ve ever been in love with,” his voice cracked, “… is the monster who took me and made me bleed. He was my everything even though I was terrified of him… My everything . Master, torturer, lover. For decades.” He shuddered and bit the inside of his cheek, tasting his blood to ground him to the earth, to Johnny’s hand, to Johnny’s warmth.
Johnny was staring up at him, wide-eyed, his breath caught in his throat… his hand still gently holding Daken’s even though Daken was sure his claws were breaking his skin. Johnny squeezed his hand, and Daken exhaled.
And the dam fucking broke .
“I just wanted him to love me,” he gasped. “And he took that love and used it to bind me closer to him, to control me. He made me his. I’m so scared I’ll always be his. I’m scared I don’t know how to love. I don’t want him to be my only one, Johnny,” he choked out, tears filling his eyes. “I want to love you like you deserve. I want to love like love ought to be. Clean, and right. I want to feel right. I want to give you something good and I don’t know if I can – ” He gasped for breath and found none, a lump in his throat, bile and mucus in his nose. He was drowning in pain and misery, could distantly feel a gentle cocoon enveloping his mind; but it was the sudden arms around him as the mattress dipped with a new weight that made him feel safe.
Johnny was holding him, tight and sure and warm, and Daken clung to him, his fingers digging into Johnny’s shoulders. He buried his face in the crook of Johnny’s neck and sobbed, loud and unrestrained, crying like he’d never been allowed to, like he’d learnt to quench young. He was an emotionally constipated mess and what was he thinking, saddling Johnny with this? Johnny didn’t deserve any of this. He deserved so, so much more…
Daken hiccuped. Oh, God, he’d said he loved Johnny. He’d said it. But was it real? Was it like love, real love, ought to be, or was he just clinging to the affection he felt for the man?
Was anything real or was he just a sad little puppet?
No, he wasn’t. He was a person. He’d never been a puppet. He was a person and he was healing and he’d take this back too. He’d claim it back.
He’d heal and spit in Romulus’ face.
Slowly, his sobs quietened down. He loosened his grip, too, afraid he’d hurt Johnny, but Johnny wasn’t breathing with discomfort, his body fitting perfectly against Daken’s… as if it belonged there.
“Is this okay?” Johnny murmured. He was brushing his fingers against Daken’s head, and Daken squinted his eyes, taken by the gentle comfort that felt so different from the mocking gestures he used to be subjected to. This felt right.
“Yes,” he exhaled. He’d reclaim this too. He’d reclaim all the gestures that had made him melt in Romulus’ presence, that had bound him to the bastard – begging for scraps like a mutt.
He wasn’t a mutt.
He’d never been a mutt.
Johnny kept caressing his head, his voice low and calm and comforting. “Of course you can love. You love your sisters, don’t you?”
“Yes.” Daken nuzzled Johnny’s neck. “I wasn’t talking about that,” he mumbled.
“It’s all right,” Johnny murmured. “We’ll work it out, Daken. We’ll work everything out. Together.”
Together. Daken choked on hope and love. Hesitantly, he tilted back his head to see Johnny. Johnny was looking at him… it struck him dead, how Johnny was looking at him. So tender, so open, so focused.
They gazed at each other. Daken’s hair had escaped its bounds while he cried all over Johnny, and Johnny brushed strands of it away from Daken’s face. A sound escaped Daken’s mouth; wet and frail and utterly vulnerable.
The air shifted. Johnny cupped his cheek and Daken wanted, God, wanted…
“Can I kiss you?” Johnny murmured and Daken nodded, his heart flitting against his chest like a caged bird. He felt utterly out of his depth. It hadn’t ever been like this, he usually initiated, but he knew that this, this was real. It was the only real thing he’d ever felt. Johnny bent his head.
He was hesitant, delicate. He tasted like cinnamon.
They’d kissed before, that night, that terrible night when Daken had almost destroyed everything good that was between them… the night he’d realized he cared – and fled. That kiss had been carnal; it had tasted of deceit and regret.
This kiss was slow and careful, a precious gift. Their mouths met and parted in a fragile, gentle dance and it felt like home, to brush their lips together… to be held so close, with such care, with no rush; to share their breaths, hesitant, soft, and true. He clung to Johnny, and he knew he never wanted this to end.
Eventually Johnny broke the kiss, gasping for breath. He was flushed, so beautiful as he pressed their foreheads together, their noses bumping, his fingers threading Daken’s hair. His eyes were so bright, his smile so soft.
He pressed his lips to the angle of Daken’s mouth and Daken lost it. Oh, such ache, such longing! He yearned, his body vibrating with need. He clung to Johnny, pressing his forehead to Johnny’s temple, brushing feverish kisses against Johnny’s jaw that Johnny tried to meet in kind and how lovely, to feel those lips on his cheeks, on his eyelids. He was nearly in Johnny’s lap; he wanted to feel every inch of him, to be held. He straddled Johnny’s leg, brought him closer… chest to chest. He could easily hear Johnny’s frantic heartbeat, but he wanted to feel it vibrate against him too. This was what he’d missed… what he’d had, for a small, fleeting, blessed moment on a rooftop under the sky.
On a rooftop…
He realized now that they were pressed far too close for Johnny’s body not to react; it had been foolish of him not to think of the consequences, so safe he’d felt in Johnny’s arms. Now Johnny was getting excited, his breathing on the side of erratic; he was slightly jolting his hips, seeking friction, and he’d get it if Daken pressed his knee just a bit forward, and Daken… Daken could let the moment follow its course. He could let Johnny have this, and tell him another time – when he was clearer-headed, perhaps. After all, he didn’t think he actively disliked what was happening.
But neither did he actively want it.
He couldn’t begin this… this relationship with another deception. He’d decided to be truthful; and that meant telling Johnny everything. Even if he still wasn’t sure he even understood.
So he tilted his head back, stopping his frenzied kisses; and he disentagled their legs. “I’m sorry… No,” he whispered. His heart gave a stutter he definitely needed to deconstruct.
Johnny gazed at him, flushed and glazed-eyed, but he stayed put. And that, more than anything else, told Daken that he was the one.
“No, I’m sorry,” Johnny murmured. “I shouldn’t have done that.” He winced, a question and an apology in his eyes, and made to pull back, but Daken held him close, their legs brushing.
“Stay,” he breathed. “It’s all right. I enjoy staying like this. If you do too,” he added, feeling uncharacteristically shy. God, Johnny made a fumbling mess of him.
“Yeah. I do.” Johnny moved his hand from Daken’s cheek to his hair, resuming his gentle caress. “What is it?” he asked, more perceptive than he’d ever been.
Daken took a breath, a hand running to Johnny’s arm. “I… I don’t know how I feel about sex.”
How absurd that idiotic comments about his father’s exploits and far more worrying doubts about the morality of Romulus’ sister had struck him like lightning; he’d found himself tuning everyone out, only present enough to shake his head at Laura’s questioning and increasingly worried glances, as his whole life flashed before him and he found himself questioning whether he’d ever even felt sexual attraction. He… didn’t think so. He felt pretty sure that there had never been any overwhelming urge to get in anyone’s pants. Once in bed he liked sex as much as anyone, he supposed, but it had never been anything more than means to an end, or a pleasant enough distraction. It wasn’t what he craved.
Over the years, he’d recalled there in that stupid conference room – what a place and moment to have an epiphany in! - he’d formed fleeting connections away from Romulus’ shadow and sex had always been involved because of course it had… but he’d never been overcome with the desire to jump in bed with any of them, had he? In fact he seemed to think, to feel, to distantly remember that maybe, maybe… it was the quiet moments afterwards that he’d really looked forward to. When it was for a job he never stayed for long, but he’d always liked post-coital snuggles. It was an intimacy he could never hope to achieve without having sex first. He’d always craved the contact, wasn’t it? God, even with Romulus, whose bed he’d climbed in his desperate quest for affection, he was head over heels when allowed to stay in the monster’s arms.
So this was what he wanted… to hold and be held, to lose himself in Johnny’s arms. He was willing to compromise, but first… he had to understand himself.
It could just be that the trauma had finally caught up to him. But he didn’t think it was that. He truly thought there was something there, something he’d always pushed down. He wanted to know.
He hoped Johnny would wait. And Johnny was doing exactly that; he was looking at him with no revulsion, no shock… just waiting for him to elaborate.
Daken sighed. He wasn’t exactly sure what to say; he and Grey hadn’t covered much ground that morning. “I was… trained to use every means necessary to obtain what I wanted. Even my body.” Johnny’s eyes flashed with anger and horror, his hold tight and comforting. “It’s not a chore,” Daken reassured him, “It’s... pleasant enough, but it’s not… I don’t know if it’s what I want. I don’t know if I go through with it because I want to or because I was taught to. But I don’t think…” He swallowed. “I don’t think I’ve ever felt attraction like that. I do want you -” he held on to Johnny, almost panicked, seeking revulsion in Johnny’s eyes but still finding none.
“It’s okay,” Johnny said quietly. Then he shook his head. “I mean, it’s definitely not okay, what was done to you.” His gaze turned sad, his arms still strong and sure around Daken. “But it’s all right, Daken. If you never want to have sex. Is that why -” Johnny caught himself.
Daken looked up at him. His chest was fluttering painfully, the wind taken out of him at hearing that reassurance. But how could Johnny just accept this? How could he keep holding him, caressing him, gazing so warmly at him?
“Why what?” he questioned.
Johnny shook himself. “That night,” he murmured, and blushed violently. He didn’t need to elaborate: the night Daken had made a mess of things; the night he’d sucked Johnny off to tie him to himself. He was still so ashamed of it. Had Johnny understood it had been done with something in mind?
“I was trying to bind you to me,” he confessed, lowering his gaze. God. He’d ruined everything, hadn’t he?
“I’d gotten that,” Johnny said softly, brushing his knuckles against Daken’s chin and then tilting Daken’s head up. There was no hate, no disgust in his eyes. “And then you gave yourself to me unreservedly,” he murmured.
Daken furrowed his brow, confused.
“I tried to get you off,” Johnny reminded him, his voice oh so soft. “But you wouldn’t have any of it. All you wanted was to be held. Remember? We stayed just like this.” He brought Daken closer, and brushed a feather-light kiss against his forehead. Daken made that frail sound again, his heart clenching. “This is what you want?” Johnny murmured, mouthing the words against his skin.
Yes. It was; it had been. It seemed that perhaps he’d known, deep down, even then. His mind had been comfortable enough, around Johnny, he’d felt safe enough, to seek what he really wanted.
He nodded, too overwhelmed to speak.
“I’d wondered,” Johnny said softly, still kissing his forehead. “You said...” he caught himself.
“In the voicemails,” Daken surmised. Johnny hummed. “It’s all right. Tell me.”
“You said my embrace was the only moment you’d ever felt safe in your entire life.” Johnny kissed his temple. “That you only wished to be able to hold me again.”
That was… a lot. Daken chuckled wetly. “Outed by drugs, huh?”
“Yeah.” Johnny smiled; Daken could feel the curve of his lips against his skin. “It’s all right, Daken. I don’t want you for your body.” He kissed Daken’s jaw. “I want you. However you want.”
While he couldn’t ask for anything more, it wasn’t right to Johnny. “I’m not putting sex out of the table, I -”
“You want to figure yourself out. It’s all right,” Johnny repeated. “We can do that together. One step at a time.”
One step at a time. Together.
Johnny understood.
He understood, and he wasn’t deterred. He wanted this, he wanted Daken, he wanted to try. Baggage and trauma included.
“All right,” Daken said. He snuggled against Johnny again, content with the warmth and the closeness and Johnny’s beautiful understanding, Johnny’s affection -
His love?
Daken trailed his fingers down Johnny’s arm, clasped Johnny’s hand. Watching their fingers laced together was an experience. “There’s another thing,” he murmured, almost dozing off with happiness.
“Tell me anything,” Johnny said.
And God, he meant that. Daken’s heart swelled.
“My name was Akihiro,” he said out loud for the first time in decades. He’d been thinking about this since the day before, since his conversation with Logan. Grey had encouraged him to try it out. And it felt fitting to do so with Johnny; to reclaim another thing from Romulus, one piece at a time. “My adoptive father… he gave me that name. I lost it… well, it was taken from me.” Like so, so many things.
He wasn’t a mutt. He wasn’t a mongrel.
He looked up and Johnny was gazing intently at him, tenderly. With the utmost attention and love.
Daken took a breath.
“Would you call me Akihiro?”
Notes:
Next: Logan puts his foot in his mouth.
.
[Whew.
This was obviously an important chapter, very packed with information. It was a conversation that was a long time coming, a few seeds planted here and there throughout the story even when I wasn’t so sure myself if I should tackle this subject again.
And then there’s the asexuality. I feel strongly about this, to me Daken (well… Akihiro ^-^ ) is asexual. This isn’t the end of it, of course, the subject will come out again. I do know this isn’t a widely accepted headcanon, though. I hope you’ll all stay on this train!
Was there a scene you liked the most? Let me know in the comments! I'd love to know what you think ^-^ ]
Chapter 39: Logan puts his foot in his mouth.
Chapter Text
39.
Things were good.
It had been a beautiful day. Laura’s aunt and cousin were delightful, Deborah very level-headed (Logan supposed Sarah Kinney must have been the same) and Megan a forceful young woman. Logan had always known of their existence, but he’d never bothered to check in with them… but he should have; Laura was different with them, relaxed. He could actually see the similarities between the two cousins in their smiles, in the way their left eyebrow tilted just so when something held their attention.
And the aunt was great with Gabby too, treating her exactly as she treated her own niece, even after Laura explained what she’d told Logan in front of Sarah Kinney’s tomb. That truth got them all teary-eyed, even Jubilee, although she stood aside, misty-eyed and obviously proud, as the Kinneys converged in a fierce group hug. Both he and Jubilee were immediately pulled in, though, by a ferocious Gabby.
Logan met Laura’s gaze over the sea of heads and tears and felt his heart clench at the happiness radiating from his daughter.
Afterwards they talked and laughed and joked and Logan found himself thinking he couldn’t possibly be happier. He yearned to tell Kurt and ‘Ro everything about this beautiful, beautiful gift; he couldn’t wait. Laura – perhaps seeing him become a little overwhelmed – told him he was more than welcome to tell them to come. But this was Laura’s moment, surrounded by her family and partner. He could survive a few hours, basking in his daughter’s joy.
His son came hours later, when they were almost about to leave; so they all elected to stay for a little while yet. He looked pensive, but exuded such longing bliss that Logan had to stop himself from asking point-blank what had him so… so joyful. Especially after scaring Logan to bits that morning.
His son lost the melancholic expression as soon as he set sight on the Kinneys and he smiled in delight, greeting Deborah like a co-conspirator in a suburban murder. It turned out they had an amicable relationship and they all regaled Logan with the tale of their meeting. Jubilee already knew, of course, but ooooh’d and aaaah’d in the same places as Logan.
And what a tale: his children had found themselves facing a similar situation to Logan’s own clash with the Red Right Hand. Hearing how Laura had handled it filled him with pride, but he toned it down, mindful of Laura’s words in the cemetery. This tale explained how Sarah’s tomb had come to be, too; and hearing that his son was to be thanked for it filled Logan, again, with terrible pride.
His children were a family.
He knew already, of course, he’d already seen it; but he couldn’t help but be amazed at the sight, at the ease they felt around each other.
The Kinneys welcomed Logan in a heartbeat. And the effect they had on his son, too, was stunning.
At some point during the evening he got less guarded with Logan, warmer. They’d already mended something, of course, but judging from that morning’s interaction Logan had guessed it would take some time to have a full relationship; so he hadn’t expected anything, resolving to take whatever came his way with gratitude.
But as the Kinneys reminisced their ridiculous disguises or Gabby’s overly complicated backstory while looking for Muramasa, his son laughed clear and carefree, his eyes twinkling, and met Logan’s gaze to include him. At some point he even caught Logan’s arm, easily, as if it was the most normal thing in the world and the first time he touched Logan without harming him hadn’t been just the day before, and he shook his head at something Megan was saying with a delighted smile.
It was enough to give anyone whiplash. Logan managed to keep his cool by some miracle.
Eventually they had to leave. Deborah insisted on hosting Laura and Gabby for the night, so Logan, his son, and Jubilee left with Jubilee’s jet – it turned out that his son had been brought to the house by Johnny Storm. Logan wondered if the man was to thank for such a different behavior, but that he didn’t dare to ask, especially because his son got quieter during the flight home.
Jubilee talked enough for the three of them, firing off comments and jokes. Her goodbye to Laura had been a long and particularly heated affair, as if they were parting for a long journey, and Logan had politely averted his gaze, just as he’d done that evening when they traded fleeting touches, gazing at each other adoringly. They were obviously so utterly, completely in love that it gave Logan a funny feeling in his chest.
His son seemed to be having the same thoughts because he regarded Jubilee with a mixture of amusement and satisfaction, and nodded at Logan as if to say that after much deliberation he found her more than adequate for his sister.
When they got to the school he spoke for the first time since boarding the jet and bid them goodbye, then fished his phone out of his pocket and called someone as he disappeared in the darkness. His quiet “Hey, I’m back,” that Logan managed to hear, was soft and tender and pretty much enamored, and took the wind out of Logan.
Logan parted ways with Jubilee with a proud hug – he was so glad she was the one for his daughter, so proud of the woman she’d become too – and headed for his rooms.
He buried himself in the warm, loving embrace of his partners, and regaled them with the tale of that day well into the night.
He was happy. He felt complete. Things were finally looking up, his relationship with his children mended. His children were happy, his son on the way to recovery too. Logan had the full might of his loved ones, of the X-Men, behind him, and Remus wouldn’t know what hit her.
She would be done for.
The following morning Jean and Betsy left early to interrogate Romulus on anything he knew about his twin’s whereabouts. There was something viciously satisfying in knowing the monster was locked up and vulnerable to the telepaths’ prying. Logan doubted he’d give anything useful, but at least he’d probably suffer.
Logan’s thirst for the bastard’s blood had only grown after his last heart-to-heart with his son. To take a kid so young, and torture and torment him so! It seemed there were no bounds to Romulus’ cruelty.
Recalling his son’s terrifying turmoil the last time the telepaths had interrogated the monster, Logan set out to comfort him. But his phone was turned off and he wasn’t in his room and Logan felt a cold pit of dread in his stomach, still remembering how pale and tormented his son had looked in the med bay so little time ago. He was healing, yes, he was being helped by Jean, but what if this wasn’t enough? What if he was stabbing himself in some storage closet?
Logan looked for his son all over the school until Lorna took pity on him and directed him to Betsy’s yoga classroom. Lorna’s complete lack of worry suggested that things must be under control, since she’d seen up close and personal his son’s suicide attempt and so she knew how bad it could get.
If there was a relationship that utterly baffled Logan ever since his son had come back from Soteira, it was the easy, vitriolic camaraderie he shared with Lorna. Logan had overheard them sometimes, trading barbs with a candor that would have put anyone to shame, and at first he’d even thought to intervene… but they were just having fun.
So, if Lorna thought his son was well enough to be alone, Logan should relax.
Still, his panic was real and irrational, bubbling up his throat. Once he reached Betsy’s classroom he didn’t enter immediately, trying to get his bearings… unwilling to let his son see worry and terror in his eyes. Earlier that morning Kurt had tried to reassure him, and ‘Ro had practically reminded him that there was a safety net in place. To no avail.
When Logan thought he was more composed, he knocked and let himself in only when he was bid enter.
His son was meditating, sitting cross-legged by the windows. Logan hesitated at the door.
“Mind if I join you, son?”
“Be my guest,” was the quiet reply.
Logan took his place a few mats away. He wouldn’t be overbearing; that wouldn’t be well-received. He’d just offer his silent support. He crossed his legs and tried to relax.
It became clear very soon that both of them were faking it. Such a ruse would work on anyone without hyper-senses, but they both had those. Logan couldn’t know if his son had been truly meditating before he’d arrived, but he sure as hell wasn’t managing now, perhaps because he still wasn’t comfortable around Logan, or perhaps because Logan’s presence made him think about what was happening thousands of miles away from here.
And Logan was simply too tense to let go of his worries.
He’d do the right thing as a father and let his son meditate in peace: he was obviously holding it together better than last time.
“Sorry, this isn’t working for me,” Logan said awkwardly, standing up. “I’ll leave you to it.”
His son tilted his head; the only answer Logan was going to get. He was almost out of the room when his son spoke up.
“I followed your advice.”
Logan turned. His son was disentangling his limbs and twisting to face him, an almost vulnerable expression on his face. Logan retraced his steps and sat down again. “Yeah? What about?” he said lightly. He wouldn’t shatter this. It felt… realer, somehow, more fragile, than their other polite conversations: those had had witnesses.
They were alone now.
His son shrugged. “I talked with Johnny. We’re going to try.” The wonder and reverence in his features, in his voice, in his damn body-language were gut-wrenching.
Logan smiled. “I’m glad to hear that, son.”
“… Akihiro.” A murmur. His son was looking to the side, his head partially ducked.
Logan regarded him. He’d heard that name before; it featured as surname for his son in many paper trails. An alias?
Was his son offering some other way to refer to him -?
Logan's confusion and caution must reflect on his face, because his son sighed. “You said you can’t call me mongrel. And you’re right, I’m not a mongrel,” he said fiercely. “Akihiro’s the name my… my adoptive father gave me. I’m not even sure of its meaning, the first kanji might be the same as Akihira’s – my father’s – but I can’t remember…” His voice turned inward, a distinct tinge of loss in it. Logan inhaled shakily.
The man who’d turned a gun on him. That was who his son wanted to honor?
And yet, who was Logan to talk? He should be glad his son was healing; he should support him in anything that gave him closure.
But the irony, oh, the irony of so similar a name!
“Akihiro’s a beautiful name,” Logan said softly. “Thank you for telling me.”
His son… Akihiro nodded. “That will take some getting used to,” he whispered, hugging himself. “For you too, I suppose.” He grimaced.
Logan shook his head. “Nevermind me.”
“No, I know you wanted to tell me what you and mother wanted.” Akihiro – God, God, so strange and foreign and welcome to call his son other than that awful slur! - took a breath. “But this was taken from me too. I… I loved that man, Logan. He took care of me.” At Logan’s grimace, he shook his head. “I know I told you he almost shot me. But I’d just...” He rubbed his eyes. “Well, I suppose I’d have told you eventually. My claws came out. I killed his wife. That’s why he trained that bayonet at me -” He trailed off, something distant and weary in his gaze.
Logan’s blood drained from his face. He, too, had murdered someone when his powers had manifested; he remembered how that had felt. And his son had been much younger. That must have been terrifying…
And then Romulus had come and swept him away to hurt him. Logan seethed.
And the horrible trick with the women that were educating him! Logan had thought it was to conflate them with Itsu, but if he’d killed his adoptive mother…
Akihiro nodded grimly. “Yes,” he confirmed, easily reading Logan’s horrified expression. “He merged all of those female figures together.” There was no questioning who he was, not with the way he shuddered. “And he took my name, too. The name I was given by the only person who loved me unconditionally in that damn village. I need this, Logan.”
“Of course, son,” Logan said quietly. “Akihiro.”
His son exhaled shakily. “Will you… tell me about her? About my mother?”
It was Logan’s turn to take a fortifying breath. He’d waited for this for so long; he’d make her proud.
“Her name was Itsu,” he began softly. He didn’t think he’d ever told that to his son. Akihiro mouthed her name to himself and shut his eyes; Logan managed to see the pain in them, but he didn’t bring attention to it, giving his son privacy. “She was… iron-willed, so stubborn sometimes. And so beautiful, so like you. I see a lot of her in you.” There was a lump in his throat. His son nodded, a few tears trickling down his cheeks. He might be recalling the too brief snippet Logan had managed to show him thanks to Charles’ help. Itsu had looked stunning in that memory, peaceful and strong.
He told Akihiro how they met, the life they were trying to build. He told him of their marriage, one warm day, the waterfalls crashing in the background. He told him even, to his shame, of the reason why he hadn’t been there when Itsu had been murdered.
“You were leaving us,” his son said blankly, the old anger resurfacing. “Because of honor?” It would be understandable if he decided to stab Logan there and then.
Logan didn’t make excuses. He’d explained how he’d felt he wasn’t worthy of her. He wouldn’t insult his son further.
Akihiro made a disgusted sound. “You always were a damn martyr, Logan.” He clenched his teeth. “It wouldn’t have mattered how painfully inadequate you were. She loved you.”
Logan hung his head. Yeah. She loved him, and he loved her, and he’d abandoned her. He’d abandoned his son.
“She’d have died anyway,” Akihiro said distantly. Logan looked up, winced at his son’s pained expression. “You know that, right? If not then, some other time. It would have taken just a moment of distraction. He wanted me, Logan.” He shuddered more violently than before. “You being spineless only made it happen sooner.”
Well, he deserved the verbal tearing, and more.
“At least you were weak enough to come back.” His son stood up, trembling. His voice was shaking, too. “Who knows, she was so stubborn, maybe she’d have made you stay.”
“Aki-”
His son imperiously held up a hand. Logan shut his mouth; he’d never seen him like this, standing tall and proud and almost regal. His very presence commanded silence.
He was fuming.
“When I was a child,” he said quietly, “I thought my biological parents had abandoned me. And then my adoptive father killed himself. Another form of abandonment. He built on all that, of course.” He shuddered much too violently for Logan’s liking, his teeth clattering.
Logan felt the urge to stand up and comfort him because obviously everything about Romulus was a fucking trauma, but he’d get stabbed if he dared something like that. He remained seated, for now.
“You know he told me you’d killed her?” His son’s voice was silk and steel; he was reining himself in with considerable effort. “That you’d done it because you were afraid of what I’d become? That you abandoned me in her belly?” He shuddered. Logan stared up at him and listened, entranced, ashamed. “So now you tell me there was a small sliver of truth in his lies. Do you understand how it feels to know you were truly going to leave us? That I was going to be fatherless, that she’d be alone?”
Logan remained silent. He wouldn’t insult his son, and Itsu’s memory, by stammering pitiful excuses.
Akihiro – did Logan still have the right to use that name? - heaved a heavy sigh. His hand fell and he shook his head. “You came back,” he said with finality. His jaw was tense; he never broke eye contact.
Startled, Logan made to speak.
“No,” his son snarled, taking a step in his direction. “I won’t let you martyr yourself again. I’ve had enough. I told you, you need to stop this. There is only one enemy and I won’t have it be you anymore. Do you hear me?”
“Son -” Logan choked out.
“Akihiro,” his son corrected him fiercely. “My name is Akihiro. Do you hear me, father?”
Despite the lump in his throat, despite his pathological need to beat himself over this, Logan’s heart almost gave way with pride. His son put him to shame with his fierce stubbornness… his iron-willed, utter refusal to let rage overcome him. He was set on a path of self-care and Logan would be damned if he took that away from him.
So he nodded, feeling tears prickle his eyes. “I hear you, Akihiro. Loud and clear.”
“Good.” His son stiffly closed the distance between them. “Hurry up, then. Grey and Braddock came back.” Of course, Jean must have warned him of their return immediately, perhaps even alerted to his turmoil as soon as she reached the school…
Logan froze.
He stared at the hand held before him, palm up; stared upwards still, at Akihiro’s grim expression, then down again, back at the hand which yes, was attached to his son’s arm, and belonged to him, an offer to help Logan up to his feet. Something Logan obviously didn’t need.
Logan braced himself and took it.
Notes:
Next: Remus and her servant.
.
[Slowly but surely, these two are mending things.
I don’t think Logan ever told Akihiro Itsu’s name on panel, but feel free to correct me! Oh, and as you noticed, from this chapter onwards Akihiro will be experimenting a bit with his identity.
Was there a moment you appreciated the most? Let me know what you think, your comments make my day! ^-^ ]
Chapter 40: Remus and her servant.
Notes:
Additional Warnings: There’s a fade-to-black sex scene at the end of the chapter, starting from “This is nice,” Jubilee murmured at some point.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
40.
Remus was a giant of a woman.
The X-Men were in the conference room, watching a video Hank had managed to retrieve from the very room where they’d found Roston’s corpse. Since the day before Jean and Braddock hadn’t found anything useful in Romulus’ mind regarding his twin’s whereabouts – it seemed that Remus had told Logan the truth when she’d said they didn’t interfere with each other – this was the only lead they could follow. It was fortunate that Hank had succeeded in recovering the surveillance feed.
Laura glanced at her brother. He’d visibly braced himself when Remus’ shadow had appeared in the frame, perhaps fearing she’d remind him of her twin; but from his shaky sigh as she came to light Laura gleaned that they weren’t too matched in their looks. Now he was quietly studying Remus’ purposeful stride towards Roston’s bound form. The man was struggling weakly, and from the toothy smile Remus wore while approaching him, one could imagine she was a rotten sadist.
Her brother seemed to be taking the sight much better than Laura had thought. There was a quiet, simmering purpose behind his eyes; the same clarity he’d exhibited yesterday, as he collected her and Gabby from the hangar – their sister still so excited after their sleepover at Deborah’s – and asked them to call him Akihiro.
He’d explained it was his old name, and that he wanted to reclaim it. All three of them knew the power of recreating one’s own identity and Gabby had cheered up the somber moment by saying it was ‘such a cool name’. It had been the right thing to say, for Akihiro had smiled and crouched and gathered her in his arms.
“It is,” he’d said, burying his face in Gabby’s hair. “Thank you, sweetheart.” There were unshed tears in his voice, but they were happy tears.
Her brother was healing. It was such a sight to behold, it was uncanny. Laura’s heart burst with hope.
He bloomed when he was called by that name. Gabby had caught on quickly, and she was making a point of using it more than necessary.
None of the X-Men had been explicitly asked – although Laura was pretty sure Akihiro had personally told Lorna and Jimmy, and of course Logan and Jean – but upon hearing the name by chance and, undoubtedly, witnessing how elated he sounded when he answered, they’d apparently all elected to address him so. And oh, was he thriving.
Presently, her brother gritted his teeth, so Laura returned her attention to the screen. Remus had reached Roston and she was dismantling the contraption that encased his head. Once free, the shell of a man keened.
“Thank you… thank you...”
Akihiro scoffed, his eyes trained on the man. The feed was disturbed every now and then, grainy and marred by a few static sounds, but on the whole it was a good video, and one could easily make out Roston’s gaunt, terrified form. It was no wonder that her brother would react contemptuously at seeing the man’s misfortune, though.
A sudden, booming laughter erupted from the speakers. The amused sound ended quickly, but it made Laura’s hairs stand on end nonetheless. She risked a glance at Logan, who was very pale.
Remus certainly seemed deranged enough.
“Oh,” she chuckled, presumably wiping away tears of mirth. “Don’t play the fragile human with me, Marcus Roston.” She leaned in conspiratorially. “I know what you are. You must be angry.” She straightened up. “You must want retribution, yes?”
Roston regarded her warily. He obviously didn’t trust her; why would he, when for the past minutes he’d been hearing screams from the rest of the compound? The scientists that were in the room had left him there, only trying to save themselves, but from the blood on Remus’ clothes Roston could certainly imagine that they were all dead… and wondering what she wanted with him. He might be fearing she wanted to use him as well.
“You obviously know me,” he managed to say with some bite despite his bounds and his sorry state. “So let’s not play games. What do you want from me?”
Remus laughed again. It was truly such an eerie, disquieting sound. Abruptly it stopped and she lay a hand on Roston’s head. Laura sensed Akihiro shudder and she put a hand on his arm in support.
“Oh, child,” Remus patted Roston’s frail hair in obvious mockery. “In any other circumstance I’d have left you alone. In truth, you’re just another victim in all of this,” she said with syrupy malice. “But you were used to harm someone I have an interest in, see. You’re simply... ah… a threat.” Her hand traveled lower to wrap long, clawed fingers around the man’s throat. She squeezed.
It was sickening. The man was no saint and he’d done a horrible wrong to Laura’s brother, but he still didn’t deserve to die like this – and he wouldn’t, for they knew his throat had been slit with a blade. This was just torture…
Torture that was affecting Akihiro, too. His trembling fingers run to his own throat, perhaps recalling a similar punishment from Romulus. Laura squeezed his arm and he put his free hand on hers, breathing slowly through his nose. He seemed to be calming down; Laura risked a glance at their father, for it was obviously him whom Remus had just referred to.
Logan wasn’t easily phased, but even he wore a grimace on his face.
Remus’ laughter came again as she stepped away from Roston, who doubled over for as much as the bindings allowed. “I commend you for trying, child, but I’m too powerful for you. See?”
Roston wheezed. Perhaps he’d been trying to control her mind? Wasn’t he a minor-level telepath?
Roston looked up, eyes wild. He was sweating; it was visible even from a damaged video. “You… you’re like him...”
Remus chuckled. “Quite the opposite, child.” She grinned. Then she looked at a dead angle which Hank had told them housed another entrance; the feed from the camera pointing at it had been impossible to recover.
It appeared that he famed “favorite” Remus had mentioned to Logan had arrived.
Her voice – for it was a woman – came distorted by static. “The scientists have been dealt with, mistress.”
“Excellent, dear. Come here.” Remus beckoned the servant closer. The X-Men couldn’t see the woman’s face, obviously, but she had short dark hair, either black or brown. Resting atop her head was a red and white mask. Some kind of feline, perhaps? The angle was too odd to be sure. She wore white flowy clothing and held loosely a short blade that dripped blood.
Roston had been peering at the servant as she approached. When she reached them he stared at her, seemingly taken aback; then he looked back at Remus. “Am I correct in assuming we have the same bone to pick?” he said slowly, brow furrowed. “I can help, just free me -”
“Oh, child.” Remus patted his head again. “Joke’s on you. Kitsune,” she apparently addressed her servant, for the woman stood at attention, “A quick death, mind you. The poor boy’s a victim.” The last word was a taunt, a mockery. She took a step back and, quick as lightning – Roston barely managed to say ‘Wait!’ - the servant slit his throat.
Roston gurgled; his blood sprayed on the woman.
There wasn’t much else to the feed; Remus hummed appreciatively and then turned to the door she’d come from, the woman following her silently. The last the X-Men saw of them were their retreating backs. Then it was just silence and Roston’s corpse sliding down its seat.
When the screen became black, they all looked at each other with various grimaces on their faces. Pryde passed a hand through her hair and sighed. “And that was everything, Hank?”
Hank nodded. “I’m afraid so, yes.” He retrieved his tablet from the table. “What I could recover only shows carnage and mayhem. It seems Remus employed ninjas; I’d suggest focusing our efforts in Japan. But this one feed featured her, so I thought it best to show you.”
“That was right unpleasant,” Pryde grimaced. “But wholly useless.”
“I wouldn’t say that,” Ororo spoke up. She was sitting beside Logan, of course; Kurt flanked their father’s other side. “It confirmed she’s cruel. And that she has some dark design, even though she didn’t seem interested in retrieving Roston’s blood.”
That, at least, was a relief, for they’d all worried that the means to control the ferals had simply changed hands.
Still; Remus must be as deranged and dangerous as her twin. She must be stopped, surely; the world would be a safer place without a titan hiding in the shadows.
“Didn’t Roston recognize that other woman?” Jimmy spoke up.
Kitsune, she’d called her; that meant the mask didn’t depict a feline, but a fox. A ninja, perhaps, but Roston had certainly seemed to be startled by her, and he’d inferred he could be of help with something –
His conversation with Remus had been a riddle. Who was the “he” Roston had referred to? Probably Romulus, but then what did it mean that she wasn’t like him, but it was the ‘opposite’? Weren’t they twins? Was she the dominant one, perhaps?
That would imply that she was far more dangerous than Romulus; a chilling prospect.
But how to investigate a ghost? Their only lead had been Romulus, but if even he had no idea – and he truly didn’t, for Jean and Braddock had dug deep and mercilessly – they were left with nothing.
Japan was a web of secret societies. And Hank didn’t seem to think Remus had bought the services of the Hand; a shame, since the X-Men knew most Hand hideouts.
It was shaping up to be a long quest for information. For now, they’d investigate from the school, but Logan mentioned off-handedly it could be beneficial to go in loco.
He was right, but they’d think about that if push came to stove. And he certainly shouldn’t go alone; but then again, he didn’t seem inclined to. At least he was learning not to go solo on this kind of thing. The last time he’d gone off on his own he’d been killed, revived and used; Laura was chilled at the prospect, and extremely glad at the fact that he was staying.
There were some clues; as Jimmy had pointed out, Roston might have recognized the woman who’d killed him. They’d investigate in that direction: there might be a trail in Los Angeles, amongst Roston's contacts - something Remus had forgotten to cover.
Things were moving. Terribly slowly, but they were moving. Remus must have made a mistake somewhere. The X-Men were bound to stumble upon it, and then they’d take her down.
Laura was hopeful.
In fact, she’d never felt more hopeful than in these past few days. The years after Logan’s death had been hard as she’d found herself saddled with worries and with responsibilities she’d gladly taken on but that had only brought her down more. She’d suffered, and she’d had help to overcome that suffering, but still at the back of her mind had always been a discomfort. These past few weeks, with Logan’s return and her brother’s ailment, had been harsh and she’d found herself struggling for her footing.
Now, step after step, she was seeing the sun after the storm. She’d weathered it all and she was coming out on top. Her family was stronger than it had ever been – her brother on the way to recovery, her grievances with her father laid to rest.
And she couldn’t have weathered the last few weeks without Jubilee’s help and constant encouragement, without her love. Laura met her gaze amongst the gathered X-Men and was possessed with an ache so strong it almost took her breath away. Jubilee’s smile was as bright as the sun and Laura wondered why the others weren’t blinded by it.
She was startled by Akihiro touching her arm; around them, the room was emptying.
“So we just have to wait,” he murmured, his head cocked to the side. His gaze was fixed on the black screen.
She nodded. “Do you feel restless?” she asked, searching Jubilee’s gaze again and motioning for her to wait outside. Jubilee gave her a thumbs up and a grin. Laura’s heart skipped a beat, a warmth suffusing her cheeks. She ducked her head to listen to her brother.
“It’s true I’m unaccustomed to just put everything in someone else’s hands,” he mused. “But I see the merits here.”
“Yeah.” He was truly settling in, whether he noticed or not. She found herself wondering if he’d stay after Jean was done with him, after the Remus affair was done.
She would like that. And Gabby would love it.
He pursed his lips, meeting someone’s eyes past her. Their father had stayed behind as well, but he didn’t linger, finally leaving the room with his partners. Laura sighed.
“What did he do this time?” It hadn’t escaped her attention that they were walking on eggshells around each other. There was no animosity, at least on Akihiro’s part, but Logan seemed to be struggling again.
She knew they couldn’t possibly mend everything over the course of two days; she’d never expected such a miracle to happen. Small steps.
Akihiro crunched up his nose. “He’s being a martyr. I told him it’s all right, but you know how stubborn he is. And he thinks I take it from my mother,” he scoffed, though his features softened and his eyes exuded such longing.
So they’d been talking about his mother. That was good.
It was good that they were finally talking about that elephant in the room; she should leave this to them. They’d solve everything on their own, she was sure of it.
Akihiro drummed his fingers on his leg. “Take the night off,” he offered quietly. “I can look after Gabby.”
“What?” Laura frowned. He did that from time to time, yes, but his words came out of nowhere.
He arched an eyebrow. “You were stargazing at your ladylove.” The corner of his mouth quirked upwards. “You two deserve some time alone.”
Laura felt sudden heat on her face. She didn’t think she’d been so conspicuous! “We get time alone,” she stammered. “We go on dates -”
“Hardly enough, evidently.” Akihiro stood. “You look at each other like you want to tackle each other upon the nearest flat surface.”
They didn’t… did they? Alarmed, Laura thought back on these last few days. Had they done it around Gabby?
Unbidden, their last time together truly alone, in Jubilee’s room, came to her mind. Their heated kisses, the naked need coursing through her veins. They hadn’t done anything, for Jubilee thought Laura was too burdened by worry to truly consent.
And then, these past few days, Laura had finally regained her footing. And the other night, at Deborah’s… yes, she’d been eating Jubilee up with her eyes, hadn’t she? She’d felt so light after her conversation with Logan, and Jubilee was there, so happy and radiant and beautiful, and Laura hadn’t managed to keep her hands to herself.
Oh, God, they’d fervently kissed right in front of her family, and not at all in a chaste way!
“You’ve turned crimson,” her brother pointed out helpfully. Oh, he was enjoying this; there was a mischievous flash of mirth in his eyes. Then he sobered up. “Go. It’s been a while since I watched Disney movies with Gabby. She’ll want to do my hair… and she’ll have me singing Let it go in no time.” He mock-shuddered.
Laura bit her lower lip. The prospect was enticing; just thinking about Jubilee’s lips made her blood quicken. Still, something stopped her.
“But won’t you want to call Storm?” His meeting with Storm had gone well; they’d decided to try to be in a relationship. Storm was busy with the Fantastic Four, though, so it seemed that constant phone calls, especially at night, would be a common occurrence. Since Akihiro’s room was just beside hers, she’d heard some of it the previous night.
They obviously wanted to see each other; she wondered if this arrangement would be enough for her brother… but they must have talked it through. Perhaps Storm would come over soon. She’d trust Akihiro’s judgment – and Jean’s.
“We’ll talk right after this.” Akihiro’s features softened utterly. Oh, he was thoroughly entranced. Her chest ached for him. “Tonight he has a siblings outing. I think he still fears his sister could vanish at any given moment.” His eyes turned sad; he could relate, obviously.
She squeezed his hand. “Thank you. I’ll ask Jubilee.”
Jubilee was ecstatic at the idea. Starsmore gallantly accepted to watch Shogo, and so hours later she and Laura were having a picnic under the stars in a small clearing near the school.
They murmured sweet things that made Laura’s chest flutter and fed each other morsels of food and Jubilee joked and they laughed breathlessly, and Laura could stay like this forever, in this little bubble of happiness. She was glad Jubilee was here, with her. She was glad they were together.
“This is nice,” Jubilee murmured at some point. She put down her food and she grasped Laura’s hand, pressing a kiss to her wrist. Laura’s heart skipped a beat.
It wasn’t long before their meal lay forgotten, as they lost each other in each other’s gaze, in each other’s arms.
They kissed until their lips were swollen and their eyes hooded. Caresses turned demanding and the heat in Laura’s belly unbearable, her insides melting, a fast pulse between her legs.
And she wanted this. Finally, she wanted this, with a force that took her breath away. She was fine and all was well and she only wanted to melt in Jubilee’s arms, to see and feel her fully.
She tilted her head back. Jubilee was flushed, her eyes as bright as fireworks. She breathed Laura’s name with a reverence that made Laura weak in the knees.
“We should… go to your room?” Laura suggested, her breath hitching. She wouldn’t mind exploring each other’s body on the warm grass, the stars their only witnesses, but she wanted to worship Jubilee in the comfort of her own bed.
And… this was still a public park. The city would give them hell if two X-Women were found frolicking in a nook.
Jubilee giggled and Laura realized that she’d blushed crimson again. Jubilee bent to peck her nose. “I’d love to,” she whispered, her voice husky with their shared desire. “You want to...” She trailed off.
Laura sat up; Jubilee’s gaze followed Laura’s hair, the way it cascaded from her shoulder to cover her breast. She was breathing quickly; they both were.
Laura laced their fingers together. “Yes.”
Notes:
Next: A night out.
.
[Supporting siblings! Happiness! Love! A family reunited! What could go wrong, amirite? See you in two weeks, when the plot will pick up the pace!
In the meantime, have lovely holidays!
What did you think of this chapter? Was there a moment you appreciated the most? Let me know in the comments ^-^ ]
Chapter 41: A night out.
Notes:
Additional Warnings: mentions of sexual abuse, which is also briefly considered as “reason” for asexuality.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
41.
Grey had gotten it in her head that Akihiro didn’t want his power back.
It was McCoy’s fault: he’d finished his examinations of Roston’s corpse and he reported that, while at the beginning the disappearance had most probably been a side effect of the combination of Roston’s blood with the rest of the chemical, it really should have stopped affecting him by now, with his healing factor to full capacity.
So Grey wasted part of their meetings working on that. It was true that ever since coming back he’d been entertaining vague thoughts about the trouble Pherokinesis had brought into his life; and it was true that, faced with the prospect of Johnny’s closeness, he’d found himself almost wishing he couldn’t regain that power… But it couldn’t be that simple, truly.
“On the contrary: the mind’s a powerful thing,” Grey had said. “You know this better than most. You need to ask yourself if you want it back. If you do, I’ll help you. If you don’t…” She’d cocked her head. “We’ll move on from the issue.”
The truth was that he didn’t know. It was a sixth sense; it had been with him all his life. But it had brought him pain too. And the idea of unwittingly influencing Johnny made him want to retch. Of course he had a firm control of his power, but it was a part of him too. One day he could simply use it with all the good intentions in the world – he could want to calm Johnny down, or to drive him away, or closer…
“I only urge you not to make such a decision just in light of your relationship with Johnny Storm. You must think of yourself,” Grey had said. He knew what she meant. He understood her words. “You don’t want to control him,” Grey had added. He’d nodded. “Because you were controlled all of your life.”
“Yes, Grey, give me some credit.” He’d crossed his arms. “I got that.”
“You must trust yourself,” Grey had said, “and him. Between the two of you, you can work something out.”
But it would be much easier – on his peace of mind, too – not to have to.
In the end though, it wasn’t really a choice. As he healed, and as he gradually got more comfortable in all aspects of his relationship with Johnny, it could simply come back on its own. Short of somehow blocking his Pherokinesis off, something Grey’s ethics wouldn’t allow anyway, he was bound to have to face the problem eventually.
But there was something else that occupied his thoughts of late, and that was the issue of sex.
Grey had suggested joint sessions with Johnny to be had in the future, but she’d agreed they could wait for now. He wanted to be clearer on the situation first; he had no intention of giving Johnny whiplash. So far there had been no need, anyway; barring their first encounter in his room, they’d seen each other scarcely and always in public. They kissed, mostly; there was a lot of hand-holding… of holding each other, in general.
It felt sublime.
And it was so nice not to face expectations, too. He’d been clear and Johnny didn’t push… But physical reactions were bound to happen eventually. And he wanted to be crystal-clear on his own feelings on the matter, to better decide how to respond.
There was no question that he’d been abused. Mentally, and physically. He knew that. It had taken a long time to face it, but he knew that. The tortures and the smiles and the beatings and the lavish things, the lies and the praises… it was all abuse.
He also knew – it was harder to face – that he’d been sexually abused. Training a kid to have sex was sexual abuse. Accepting – encouraging, ordering, engineering – a slightly older kid’s advances was sexual abuse. Expecting that kid to finish a job by using sex if necessary, was sexual abuse.
Admitting it out loud to Grey had been like stabbing himself, and he still had to vocalize it to anyone else. It wasn’t like Grey had told him to shout it from the rooftops, but she’d also said that talking about it with trusted figures would help.
Logan was honestly out of the question for the time being: though they were talking (mostly about his mother) neither of them could stomach such a conversation, and he had no intention of causing Logan a stroke. Laura could be easier to talk with, as she’d fallen prey to a pimp before joining the X-Men and she’d always discussed it frankly, but she was so happy now; he didn’t want to make her relive that. Lorna was… he thought he could consider her a friend, and their talks about being possessed had helped somewhat, but this was a bit too much to dump on an acquaintance only a few months old. The same went for the tentative bonds he was forming at the school, the occasional small talk not enough to be tested with something so monumental. There were always Braddock and Summers, who’d kept the information secret just as much as Grey, but he still didn’t feel comfortable with them.
He had Johnny and Grey, and that was enough for now.
The point was – the point was – was he unaffected by carnal desires because that trauma had anesthetized him to them? Or had he always been like this but the trauma had masked it, instilling in him that he wasn’t supposed to want it anyway, that sex was just what people did?
Had Romulus taken from him the joy of discovering something he would have eventually wanted, and corrupted it beyond repair? Or had Romulus pushed upon him something he never would have wanted, turning him into a hyper-sexual performative doll?
Was his need for intimacy a traumatized dissociation because he didn’t associate sex with love, or was it the way he naturally expressed love, miraculously left unscathed by the trauma?
These questions needed to be asked – and Grey did it oh so delicately – and the answer was that he’d been too young to ever know how he was before Romulus. At ten, one wasn’t developed enough to experience sexual attraction, and no amount of reliving his early days – something they attempted carefully – would find what couldn’t be there in the first place. Certainly the fact that he’d had his epiphany shortly after Grey’s unraveling of Romulus’ hold, led them both to believe that this was him and him alone. It certainly led Grey to believe that he was asexual, and she’d dug out pamphlets and books for him. He’d known already of the existence of such an orientation, but he’d never bothered to read up on it. Perhaps, if he’d done so, he wouldn’t have to do this now… for the books undeniably struck a chord within him. It was uncanny to recognize himself in those words, to have the descriptions of different kinds of attraction resonate with him so starkly, to find himself nodding along to turns of phrase. He had to admit that it was tempting to believe that, despite everything, he’d retained this small piece of himself; it made him feel good to know that the horror he’d lived through hadn’t taken him away from himself.
But the truth was that they couldn’t be sure.
And the point was: could he live with that doubt? Could he content himself with the notion that this was what he felt now, anyway, what he was; and could he stay true to those feelings, and could he find a way to navigate them, one step at a time, with Johnny’s help?
He thought that he could. Grey had suggested small steps, a delicate balanced dance they should follow were they to find themselves “in the heat of the moment”, as it were. They shouldn’t rush anything and check in extensively. He’d told Johnny, of course, and Johnny was a pillar of strength. He’d said that Akihiro didn’t have to worry. That he was there, and they would navigate this together. That he was there for Akihiro. That he’d always be. That it didn’t matter if they never had sex in their whole life, that he just wanted to be with Akihiro.
Sex had always been a transaction and he didn’t know if he could trust himself not to offer it just to make Johnny happy, but he knew, he felt so strongly, that he could slowly learn how to face this if Johnny was there with him.
Always was a promise he couldn’t have believed for so long, but now he thought that he could. And he thought he was more well-adjusted to accept it if it were to end, anyway. He just wanted… he wanted to be with Johnny, and to be happy, for as long as he could. But most of all, he wanted to feel better.
Honestly, this was why he still hadn’t taken Grey up on her offer to discuss Remus. The news of her existence had been a bombshell, yes, but he’d never met the monstress. She’d done nothing to him; he didn’t feel the need. There was so much else he needed to face, all her twin had done to him; Remus was just an afterthought. He’d think about her when they found her, maybe.
They still hadn’t found her.
He wasn’t too alarmed, truth be told. She was a wild card, her intentions unclear, but she wasn’t certainly going to come near the school or to face the X-Men head-on. She hadn’t forced anything on Logan, so she was better than her twin. She’d played with Roston before having him killed, but that wasn’t too worrying. And Roston had deserved it, anyway. Certainly it would be better if she were locked up, but that would come in due time. The X-Men had faced galactic threats, for God’s sake; the twins were forces of nature and Romulus had made Akihiro’s life hell, but now he was in prison, not a titan but a mouse, proof that he was human; and Remus would follow shortly.
So things were good. And since things were good, he could live. He deserved that.
Pryde had finally offered him to teach an elective. She’d found him one day, as he declaimed tanka poems to Laura on his usual bench – he’d recalled that Akihira used to recite them, and so he’d decided to brush up his knowledge – and she’d lit like a menorah. She was somewhat fluent in Japanese; a result of Logan’s meddling, no doubt.
So Pryde asked him to teach Japanese literature. It hadn’t crossed her mind that such a request could be insulting indeed, but luckily for her, he felt oddly touched, and he had the necessary knowledge.
The school housed a few Japanese kids and some kids of Japanese descent, so Pryde thought he could at least get a good number of students interested in their heritage – again with the insulting inferences, but he’d take it. At least she thought of her students.
For the same reason, she’d told him that Zach wouldn’t have access to the class. He accepted the decision, and he was grateful for it; it seemed she was really trying to take care of the boy, finally. He wondered how Zach would take it when he discovered that Akihiro was teaching but that he wasn’t allowed in; he wondered how Zach was faring, for he knew the boy was undergoing therapy but he never could seem to see him on the premises. He knew there must be a system in place so that they wouldn’t bump into each other; he could appreciate it.
Zach would get better; he was sure of it. And when that happened, Akihiro hoped he could be able to welcome the boy into his class without that hollow tug in his chest.
He, too, had still some road ahead of him in regards to that sorry situation. Grey hadn’t miraculously solved everything; it was a long affair.
But he was healing. For the first time in his life, he was truly balanced, on the way to recovery. For the first time in his life, he trusted in the future.
With that in mind, when Johnny suggested getting out of the school for a proper date – nothing like their hurried meetings on the premises – Akihiro accepted immediately. He hadn’t truly been out in a while, confined to the school for his health and for fear of Soteira. He’d gone with Laura to retrieve his clothes, yes, but that didn’t count.
For this was a date. He and Johnny had never been on a date. The mere prospect felt so normal, domestic, so welcome. And he’d never experienced a date, not really; they were for marks, an opportunity to show off and lure his targets in.
This date was for him and him alone; a new chance for a new him. Not Daken, but Akihiro; and as Akihiro, he could be himself, enjoy Johnny’s company without angling for anything.
Johnny waited for him at the school’s entrance. He looked stunning; he’d told Akihiro to dress casually, but he couldn’t be allowed to look that good in jeans and shirt. That was usually Akihiro’s shtick.
Akihiro didn’t mind being robbed of it, if it meant he could drink up such a sight.
Johnny blushed prettily at seeing him, his lovely eyes soft and ardent. He held up a hand and, when Akihiro took it, he drew him to himself gently, carefully.
“Hey,” he murmured. He brushed a kiss against Akihiro’s cheek. Pressed to his chest, Akihiro melted.
“Hey yourself.” He tilted his head so their lips could softly meet. “Where are you taking me?”
“Surprise.” Johnny winked. “Fancy a flight?”
They flew. They didn’t take a flying car like when Johnny had brought him to Deborah’s; they flew. Akihiro clung to Johnny as they moved through the night like comets… the flames redirected from him, Johnny’s body so hot to the touch. They were above the smog, the air so clear around them, the stars so bright; but never as bright as Johnny’s white-hot eyes in this form. Never so bright as Johnny’s beautiful blue eyes.
God. He was completely, head-over-heels in love, wasn’t he? A soppy mush. He held on tightly, his head fitting perfectly in the crook of Johnny’s neck, and allowed himself to inhale his scent, to bask in Johnny’s presence… in the fact that he could love. That it hadn’t been taken from him.
The flight ended too soon; they landed on the large terrace of a high-end, heroes-only restaurant, the kind where paparazzi weren’t allowed. A waiter moved immediately from the entrance to welcome them. It seemed Johnny had every intention to wine and dine him… Too bad he hadn’t warned him.
“We aren’t dressed for this,” Akihiro whispered furiously. The servers wore liveries, for God’s sake! “Take me back, I’ll get changed and you’ll get changed –”
Johnny laughed, his arms warm around Akihiro. He was nuzzling Akihiro’s hair too; all in all, it had a distracting effect. “It’s all right, nobody cares here.”
“You heathens.” Akihiro shivered. He could already see people wearing t-shirts through the large windows… One of those barbarians turned slightly, and it was Clint Barton. Akihiro stilled, the issue of proper clothes entirely forgotten. “Are you sure I’m welcome here?”
Johnny kissed his hair. “Of course. You’re with the X-Men. And with me,” he said pointedly.
“When I worked with Osborn we captured Barton,” Akihiro gestured at the man, who still hadn’t seen them. The waiter waited patiently to the side, politely pretending not to hear. “He was tortured,” Akihiro added quietly.
Johnny held him tightly. “That was years ago.”
“You think he’d agree?” He could hold his own against Barton and anyone who would pick a fight with him, but he didn’t want to ruin their date.
“I think there’s some ex-criminals in that restaurant, and everyone deserves a second chance.” Johnny spoke softly. “You did a lot of good lately. You saved Roosevelt Island, you stopped Mothervine -”
“Lately I also attacked the school,” he reminded Johnny.
“Well, everyone knows you were possessed for that.” Johnny clasped his hand. “I’m sorry. If you want to leave we’ll find somewhere else. It’s all right.”
Ordinarily, he wouldn’t flee from conflict. Indeed, it could even be fun to needle the assembled heroes. But this was their first date. He didn’t want to turn it into an unpleasant business. They deserved some peace.
He squeezed Johnny’s hand. “I’d rather leave, yes.”
“Okay.” Johnny brought their hands up and kissed the back of Akihiro’s, making his heart stutter. “Give me a moment, I’ll cancel the reservation.”
As Johnny went in, people seeing him and greeting him from their tables, Akihiro observed through the windows a world he wasn’t sure he would ever be welcomed in. He wasn’t even sure he wanted to. ‘You’re with the X-Men.’ Was he? He was staying at their school, yes. He’d gone when Magneto had called, when Mothervine had to be stopped. He’d indeed saved Roosevelt Island, but just to help Laura.
When he was posing as an Avenger he’d entertained vague thoughts of being hailed as a hero. He’d wanted it because it was Logan’s thing, a way to prove to himself that he was better than his father… but deep down he’d only just wanted to be accepted.
What did he want from his life, now that he was free? He wanted to be beside Johnny; that he knew. He’d readily accepted to teach at the school, which would tie him there even after he got better, after Remus was taken care of. He’d done it without a second thought. Did he want to stay at the school, amongst the X-Men? What was next? Join an X-team?
Did he want that?
Would it be so bad, to fight beside his family? He’d never cared about mutant politics, but perhaps he should. Hadn’t he been taken, hadn’t Logan been taken, because the security around mutants was so laughably lax? Because nobody cared if a few mutants got kidnapped here and there? Many super-powered heroes had been taken and used against their will, but never as many as mutants; the percentage was simply not comparable –
That was when the windows exploded.
Notes:
Next: Epiphanies.
.
[Obviously the peace couldn’t last. I debated whether to let them have their date, but the timing was far too tight already. Apologies!
Akihiro’s at the questioning stage. Wondering if the abuse “caused” one’s asexuality is a common worry for survivors of CSA who also find themselves on the spectrum or sex-repulsed.
Zach doesn’t have a canon surname/heritage but he’s been consistently drawn as if he’s of an Asian descent; I always thought he had Japanese roots.
This was a quiet chapter, mostly. Was there a moment you particularly liked? Let me know what you think, your comments make my day! ^-^ ]
Chapter 42: Epiphanies.
Chapter Text
42.
Daken was in L.A. when Johnny died.
He’d barely just arrived, intent on orchestrating his grand takeover, and every damn megascreen in the city had been giving the same news; every newspaper, every newsfeed, every social media. The entire city was screaming at him that Johnny was dead. Not the fake death all heroes seemed to suffer at least once; a true, real death.
It was no wonder, really, that he’d turned to the Heat drug as fast as he had. Even his pursuit of power seemed so ridiculous and childish when confronted with that loss. The way he’d thrown himself first at Roston, then at Donna was just a desperate cry for help. Johnny was dead and Daken had first sought out to drown himself in stimuli only to find himself the puppet instead of the puppeteer, and then he’d scrambled for meaning with a woman whose only act of kindness he’d clung to like a lifeline. There was nothing soft in Donna Kiel but he’d been too starved to care. Because Johnny was dead and he’d needed to be held.
Mortality was a wretched thing.
So Akihiro could be excused if he screamed as the windows shattered, the restaurant torn open by an explosion. He could be excused if he kept screaming Johnny’s name like a madman, stumbling towards the fire, uncaring that the terrace was littered with glass. There was movement inside, obviously the heroes were fine, obviously, but Johnny, Johnny –
Akihiro slipped on blood. He spun on his heels and saw, there on the ground, the server who’d been waiting for them; he lay sprawled, bloodied by minor cuts, but a big shard was embedded in his thigh.
Cursing, Akihiro skidded to a kneeling position. Johnny was fine. He had fire powers, he must be fine. And Akihiro couldn’t neglect a bleeding civilian in full view of a roomful of heroes.
The shard was deep in the server’s thigh, arterial blood quickly spraying out of him. The man was hyperventilating, trying to take it out with slippery hands. Akihiro slapped them away.
“Be still or you won’t lose just your leg.” He tore out a sleeve from his Hermès with a wince and quickly tied it around the man’s thigh. “Don’t touch the glass. Lay down.” Shivering, the man obeyed. Akihiro raised the man’s leg, looking around for something to keep it that way. The wound was similar to the one he’d procured to Johnny, so many years ago, and he couldn’t stomach to look at it. Where was Johnny? Was he safe?
People were coming out into the balcony, heroes putting down restaurant staff and then coming back inside. She-Hulk, at least one person who’d come dressed correctly for the place, had torn her gown to tie it higher around her waist. She lay gently down three people, saw Akihiro and the server, and came towards them. “You two all right?”
Akihiro nodded, looking wildly behind her. Where was Johnny? Where was Johnny? He ought to be out by now, he's been close to the entrance –
She-Hulk suddenly occupied his entire field of vision, her expression carefully neutral, her fingers mere inches from his face as she knelt before him. “Please remain calm, but there’s glass stuck in your face.”
He almost laughed hysterically. “I heal,” he spat, tilting his head away to look at the entrance, but she was too massive and she was worriedly overcrowding him. “Have you seen Johnny?”
Her gaze flickered; she narrowed her eyes, seeing him for the first time. “You’re… Logan’s son?”
“Yes,” he confirmed, exasperated. “Have you seen Johnny or not?”
She looked at the man whose leg he was still holding up, then at Akihiro again, as if what she was seeing didn’t compute. Obviously. So much for very publicly saving Roosevelt Island. “Johnny Storm -?” she said slowly, puzzled.
He was very close to screaming in frustration and stabbing her out of the way, when he smelt Johnny. He spun to his feet and shoved her to the side, the server crying out as his leg was twisted by the sudden movement, and saw Johnny emerging from the debris in his fire form, Barton in his arms.
Akihiro felt himself deflating, a tension he hadn’t even noticed disappearing from his shoulders. He quaked and exhaled: “Joh-” before his lungs decided he was out of breath. He tried to inhale, but nothing came, his gaze fixed on Johnny, transfixed.
He couldn’t quite breathe in. Johnny was fine, of course he was fine, it was obvious, he was made of fucking fire. There was a hand on his shoulder, a soothing female voice saying, “He’s fine,” but She-Hulk wasn’t Grey. He shouldered her hand away, but his legs buckled; she held him upright. “Johnny!” she called out.
Johnny still hadn’t looked at him; he was depositing Barton to the floor, fine and carefree, not at all worried, but then he turned at She-Hulk’s call and he saw Akihiro and his face fell. He flew towards them, landing just before Akihiro. He could hear Johnny’s heartbeat. Akihiro let out a sob. Johnny held up a hand, confused just as much as Akihiro was feeling because this was normal, perfectly normal, a situation Johnny knew how to face. He was a damn hero, he knew how to save himself in an explosion...
“He’s in shock,” She-Hulk said helpfully.
Johnny de-flamed himself and he was standing there, breathing and alive, his big blue eyes wide with confusion and worry, and Akihiro jumped at him. More correctly, he clung to him as if his panic was justified, as if Johnny was a mere human and not a super-powered entity, as if Johnny could die on him just because of a laughable explosion.
“Hey,” Johnny murmured, his arms feverishly hot and tight around Akihiro. “It’s all right, I’m used to explosions.”
“I know,” he managed to choke out. He pressed his face to Johnny’s chest, fragments of glass falling down as he healed. “I fucking know, I know -” he gasped for breath, completely out of his depth. He was horribly overreacting. He knew that. He was able to step out of himself and coldly analyze that he was fucking overreacting.
“What are you playing at?” A hand grabbed his shoulder and shook him; Johnny snarled: ‘Clint, stop it.’ Barton was undeterred. “Hey, was this you?”
Because of course this was Akihiro’s fault. Of course his favorite pastime was bombing New York. Of course Barton would think that, since all their interactions had been violent and he was among those who’d cornered Daken when he was dying from the Heat.
He loosened his frantic hold on Johnny’s shoulders and turned to face Barton, who was looking at him with hatred. “I’ve been under surveillance for weeks,” he pointed out. He tasted salt and blood on his tongue. “You can trust Jean Grey that this wasn’t me.” His voice was a shattered mess, but he’d take it.
Barton’s mouth formed a thin line. “I’ll hold you to that.”
“I told you I was dating him,” Johnny scoffed.
“He’s fucking Daken, though, Johnny!”
“It’s Akihiro,” they both snarled, Johnny’s hand squeezing Akihiro’s arm. Barton flinched, his hands flying upwards.
“He was helping this man,” She-Hulk chimed up from the side, a lawyer at heart –
The man. He’d forgotten the man! Akihiro turned sharply, but she was holding the man’s leg up, probably from the moment Akihiro had let go of him. Not a good first foray into heroics. She cocked her head at him.
“Quick thinking,” she said appreciatively. Oh, God, she was praising him.
She was also defusing the standoff. Barton finally abandoned his posturing; all around them, the situation seemed to be under control now as various heroes tended to terrified room and kitchen staff.
“There’s explosions all over the city.” She-Hulk had pushed some rubble under the waiter’s leg, and now she was perusing a phone. “All hands on deck.”
A terrorist attack? All of New York’s mightiest heroes would be swarming the streets and the air tonight, trying to save everyone. Some were already leaving the terrace. Johnny was obviously itching to go, but he stayed, eyeing Akihiro worriedly. Akihiro felt marginally better now, his terror faded; should he offer to join Johnny and help? Or wouldn’t that perhaps distract the both of them –
A distraction.
Akihiro rounded on She-Hulk. “What about the Jean Grey School?”
“It’s clear.”
“But the X-Men are out?”
“Yes, of course...”
“Take me back there,” he spoke over her, turning to Johnny. He was met with a confused look. “Then you can go and do your heroics, but take me back to the school first.”
The school would be abandoned, just a few X-Men left to protect the students. It was just a wild hunch, but they could be a target. Gabby must be there, and Zach with his damn power dampener, kept inside the school for their protection. Anyone could be headed that way. And if that anyone was Remus… He shuddered. What if she was just like her twin? What if she wanted a kid to use and abuse?
“Of course,” Johnny said softly, “But what -”
“It’s a diversion,” he pointed out. “You should send someone to patrol soft targets,” he threw at She-Hulk.
The woman hissed and she was already on the move, barking at the assembled heroes. Barton muttered ‘From the mouth of the villain,’ but Akihiro ignored it, wrapping his arms around Johnny’s waist.
“Johnny,” he urged. Gabby. Zach.
The next moment they were in the air, the wind blowing past them. From this high he could see the fires littering the city. Johnny was cursing, trembling with the need to go help, but he was taking care of Akihiro first. Akihiro loved him for that.
Soon Central Park was in view, and then the school, miraculously untouched. Johnny landed directly on the front lawn. Once their feet hit the ground Akihiro grabbed fistfuls of Johnny’s fiery hair and yanked him down to kiss him, fire form and all. Johnny tasted of ash and brimstone, but his lips didn’t burn, the heat diverged from Akihiro. When Akihiro let go, Johnny’s bright white eyes were blazing his soul.
“Go,” Akihiro choked out. “Save people.”
Johnny grasped his hand. “Aki-”
“Don’t waste time!” He took a step back, his hand tingling. “We’ll be all right.”
Johnny hesitated, but then his instincts won. “Text me!” he shouted, and then he was up, up, a reverse shooting star headed towards danger.
There was no time for that train of thought. Akihiro spun on his heels, the school already in lock-down: obviously the X-Men knew – better than most – that they should protect their young.
He fished his phone out of his pocket and called Laura. His sister answered breathlessly, probably hauling to safety some poor casualty. “Where’s Gabby?” he asked her, dispensing with the pleasantries.
“With me,” she said, nonplussed. “Are you all right? You sound -”
“I’m at the school,” he interrupted her. “Keep an eye on her.” He hung up.
So it was just Zach. De-powered, vulnerable Zach. Akihiro tentatively reached out telepathically the way Grey had taught him, but he was obviously still too new to this, or the X-telepaths too busy, so he climbed the stairs to the entrance and rang the doorbell.
Drake’s face appearing in the small screen was an unwelcome greeting. “Hey. Whoa, you look like hell!”
“How many X-Men are in there? Are the students safe?” The man wasn’t iced up, so they mustn’t be too worried. Fools.
Drake’s features softened. “We’re enough. You want to come in?”
For a mercy, it was right then that Akihiro felt it.
An absence somewhere in the woods around them; a void where all his senses told him there should be a person. He was sharply attuned to such an eerie feeling, because it often was the only warning he got when Romulus wanted to surprise him and appeared from the shadows.
Like brother, like sister.
“Don’t unlock the doors,” he hissed. “Keep everything sealed.”
The man caught the change in his face. “Is everything all right out there?”
“Yes, you moron.” Akihiro fought desperately to keep his features neutral: no way in hell he’d let Drake open up the treasury. Fortunately he’d been cold-shouldering the man for weeks, so Drake shouldn’t be able to assess that Akihiro was deflecting. “I know it’s too difficult for you to grasp, but it’s just plain idiotic to risk it when we don’t know what are the targets. Just stay in lock-down; I’ll head to the city, see what I can do.”
Drake nodded. “Okay, man. Thank you.” He looked about to say something else, but then he closed the conversation.
Akihiro looked around. He still felt it; now he couldn’t not. It tasted acrid in his mouth, a terror with no name. He reached out to Grey again, but got nothing.
He slowly climbed down the stairs, searching for anything out of the ordinary amongst the trees. The sensation came from ahead, so he walked in a straight line, his fingers shaking as he dialed Grey’s phone.
When she answered he didn’t give her time to say anything. “I think Remus is in Central Park. Send someone back to the school,” he whispered as he followed the dreadful lure. The park was deserted, dots of people at the edges of the city. Remus was nowhere near the school yet. He circled on the spot, trying to pinpoint the source of his terror.
“Done,” Grey said. “Akihiro, where are you?”
The sickening siren call hadn’t moved, it wasn’t getting closer to the school. Either Remus had spotted him and planned on disposing of him first, or the target wasn’t the kids, but instead -
… him. It was him.
Akihiro dropped his phone to the ground and smashed it with his claws, then run in the opposite direction from the school. Nothing stopped Remus from getting him and then deciding to go after some other kids; the school must remain in lock-down, and he’d drive Remus away for good measure. If Grey knew where he was she’d send someone from the school, thus opening it up to any other threat still lurking close -
He still felt it. Remus was following. She wanted him, just as her twin had wanted him, she planned to… to…
Hot strings of panic licked up to him, swallowed him, the void sucking him in. He was falling, falling, shaking, sweating, he was terrified.
Someone jumped him. He lashed out with a scream but he was blind, in a frenzy, disoriented. His claws only cut air, his senses fogged. It was an onslaught, an inferno, he could only parry something he couldn’t even see, terror was drowning him and now he was on his back, something – a foot? - keeping him down, down, like when Romulus used to… used to…
Respite. He could breathe again. His vision was blurry, he thought he was hyperventilating, but he was clearer-headed, he tried to grasp at the leg of his captor but he was uncoordinated, lethargic, frozen really. The form above him was clouded in white, too small to be Remus but still a woman, a mask on her face… a fox, red and white…
A kitsune mask…?
Remus’ favorite. She had the same terrifying presence as the twins?
No. The same powers.
He lay still, his brain screaming at his muscles to fucking move but he was in freeze mode, pinned to the ground not by terror, but by… by…
By pheromones. Romulus, and this woman, they used pheromones! Romulus had never petrified him with his ‘ominous presence’, it was fucking pheromones! This was what being doused in them must feel like. This was when terror was unleashed, the baser responses triggered; he’d caused it enough times, on a far smaller scale, to recognize it. The void that had always characterized Romulus wasn’t an ancient manifestation of his age and power, it was… it was the chameleonic erasure via pheromones of one’s own presence; the same erasure that Romulus had taught Daken, only to a degree that wasn’t useful for fighting but only inspired seeping terror… and he’d successfully taught it to Daken because he had the same power.
Not a monster hiding in the shadows, all-seeing and mighty. Just an illusionist, just like fucking Roston.
The terror he was still experiencing turned into hysteria his exhilarated rage at the epiphany, and he found himself laughing, pinned to the ground by this damn woman, this copycat, this mere servant. Was Remus the same? Oh, probably. Now that they knew, Grey would no doubt find traces of this charade in Logan’s mind. If Akihiro survived to tell the tale.
Kitsune’s foot slid closer to his trachea. “Why are you laughing?” She had a melodious, deep voice. She was just a small fish. Grey! he called out. Grey, can you hear me?
There was a rush of static in his mind.
He stopped laughing abruptly. That disturbance couldn’t be pheromone-induced; if it was, this woman had perfected her Pherokinesis to a dangerous degree. No, there must be something else afoot; telepathy. He was chilled to the bone.
And why was he calmer now, anyway? He still couldn’t move, but the terror had dimmed down.
“Why were you laughing?” The woman repeated. He could feel there was a compulsion to answer, but… he could also counter it. His baser instincts were still taken over, he still couldn’t move, but he was battling her influence somewhat, he was pushing back with something of his own…
His Pherokinesis was finally back, beckoned forth by his need. So he pushed at her a taste of her own medicine and she faltered; her hold weakened, taken aback by his usage.
Now he was free to move.
He jumped to his feet, using the momentum to make her stumble. Grey! he called out telepathically, but only static was his answer. Cursing, he unsheathed his claws, going for Kitsune’s unprotected midsection, but two short blades – kotachi? - parried his attack. One kick later he was down again; he rolled just in time to avoid a blade to his shoulder. He stabbed upwards but she gave him a wide berth, dancing quickly on her feet, circling him without getting too close, lashing out when he tried to get up. She was damn fast. It was the pheromones, of course, that allowed her to give that impression, that confused his senses. Dammit.
“You’re a descendant,” she said suddenly. It didn’t sound like a question.
He felt a stab of panic, he didn’t care if genuine or induced. Grey, he screamed in his mind, Grey! They’d gotten too far from the school and they were virtually undetectable in the dark. The woman was broadcasting her best “notice-me-not” pheromones, probably cloaking them both, and only another feral would be able to sense it. And there must be a telepath, probably Remus, in the area, or else this woman was one too, just for the kick of it.
“A descendant?” he repeated. Whether she knew what he was thinking or not, he had to keep her talking, at least until she let her guard down.
“Your pheromone manipulation.” She pointed a kotachi blade at him. “It’s a mark of the mistress’ blood. I, too, am a descendant.”
The horror surging up his throat was definitely genuine. Remus was their ancestor? Romulus was his own blood? No. No , it couldn’t be. “There are many mutants with this power,” he choked out.
“No, you’re kin to me,” she said speculatively. “I sense it.” She dropped the curtain around her, thus allowing him to smell her. She was right: there was… something, in her, that called out to him; it was no luring pheromones, but her own scent, that drew him in. An aching nostalgia took him.
Grey, he called out weakly, pathetically. Static sounds caressed him. “So she wants her own army made of descendants? Are you here to take me?” He braced himself to fight to the death. Never again. Never again would he let these monsters take him.
“No,” the woman said, and he deflated. “I was staking out that building but when I saw you I knew I had to talk to you.” Swiftly, the blades disappeared in the folds of her clothes. He could stab her and run, but he couldn’t. “Your face haunts me.”
-hiro. Can you hear me? Akihiro!
That was Grey’s voice. Akihiro reached out, overcome with relief. I’m in the park. Remus’ servant, she’s here –
We’re coming!
“My face haunts you?” he repeated, softly. He felt… afloat, overwhelmed. Her scent filled his nostrils, filling him with yearning.
Kitsune cocked her head. “I see you in my sleep when I’m not with my mistress. I feel…” she shivered. “I feel distrust towards my mistress. Something’s happening to me.” He was hit by the urge to hold her, which was preposterous. She was Remus’ servant. She was an enemy.
Ask her if it’s recent, Grey said. Frowning, Akihiro obeyed. The woman started.
“Yes. How do you know that?” She held herself tightly, mistrustful.
Roston, Grey reminded him. Yes… his blood had hit her, hadn’t it? Perhaps a conduit for his mild telepathy. Had he marked her, somewhat, just under Remus’ nose, so that she would turn against her mistress ? But why would he make her see Akihiro? Don’t harm her, Akihiro, Grey said. We’re coming. Try to gain her trust. We could glean information from her.
Can’t you just take it from her head?
I’m trying, but her mind’s a maze just as complex as yours. There was the static sound again, faint. I think she’s being used.
Just like him.
“How do you know that?” the woman repeated, taking a step towards him. Akihiro retracted his claws.
“We’re tracking her down. We know she made you kill a telepath, weeks ago, in a facility,” he explained. “He might have touched your mind.”
She gasped, horrified, a hand coming to her head. “Why make me see you?”
“Because we’re the same,” he said urgently. Now he understood what Roston had done. He’d sensed in her the same mental abuse he’d sensed in Daken, and he’d tried to make them meet so she’d see and turn against her mistress. The enemy of his enemy, he might have reasoned, was his friend. Even though he was in prison because of Akihiro. “Remus’ brother held me for decades. He used me. He made me his weapon. Like Remus did to you, perhaps?” he added softly. He found he couldn’t harm the woman, not even with his words. He felt kinship for her, an ache.
“My mistress is the only thing I’ve ever known,” she whispered, horrified. Akihiro felt for her.
Grey, we must help her.
… Yes. Grey’s voice came as if from far away. Akihiro, I think – Static sounds drowned out her next words.
What? But he couldn’t hear her anymore, crackling whistles in his mind. Still, the X-Men were coming, so Akihiro wasn’t too worried anymore. He held out a hand . “I understand. But the X-Men can help you. Come with me… Kitsune, is it?”
“Yes. I’m called Kitsune.” The woman, his fellow victim, raised her kitsune mask, pushing it atop her hair. And Akihiro froze.
Kitsune.
Roston had recognized her.
Fucking Kitsune.
Only a westerner like Remus would think herself clever at bestowing that name on someone named… someone named…
He saw now how could Laura possibly have believed with such stark stubbornness that Sarah Kinney’s clone was her own mother. Because when she looked like her mother, when she smelled like home, how could she be anything other than her mother?
How could the woman in front of him, so similar to him, her scent calling out to him, with his high cheekbones and his lips and his powers, so exactly like the woman he’d only seen once in Logan’s memories and that the drugs had made him hallucinate, so beautiful, so wrongly young, so gut-wrenchingly alike to Akihiro; how could this woman be anything other than Akihiro’s mother?
Kitsune. K-itsu-ne.
“Okaasan?” he whispered – elated, horrified. This had to be a trick. It had to be a clone…
Sounds getting nearer. The X-Men were here but Akihiro only had eyes for the impostor in front of him, for even if it was a deception, even if his mind was screaming, he couldn’t take his eyes off her. He couldn’t move against her.
The woman, the clone, his mother widened her eyes. “No, I don’t have children -”
“Okaasan,” he sobbed, stumbling forward, cursing himself. It wasn’t his mother. She couldn’t be his mother, but she was…
She grasped his hands suddenly. His heart sang at the contact. “I don’t understand,” she whispered, fast, urgent. “I’m so sorry, I don’t understand, but listen to me, she’s taking a man. I’m a decoy, she’s taking a -”
She fell limply into his arms just as the whistle, the static sounds, grew into a cacophony and then suddenly vanished, like a bomb going off. Someone cried out from the X-Men and he turned, wildly, just in time to see Grey collapse to the ground. A sort of psychic attack, wired to Kitsune?
To his mother –
A decoy.
‘She’s taking a man.’
His blood run cold, Akihiro spun on his feet, his mother – the clone – in his arms, taking in those near him. Jimmy and Drake and Rogue. Drake was tending to his friend, Rogue and Jimmy were positioned to fight whoever came next. But there was no one coming anymore.
“Where’s Logan?” he demanded, but he could see from their vacant expressions that they didn’t know. Jimmy, the one who’d first expounded that theory about Remus, caught on immediately, his gaze turning horrified.
Akihiro cradled the clone – his mother – to his chest, and helplessly met his brother’s eyes.
Hoping without hope that Remus hadn’t orchestrated all this to take Logan.
Terrified of looking down at the woman he was holding.
Notes:
Next: Looking for the truth.
.
[Well, surprise!
I’d love to hear your thoughts. Write a comment below! ^-^ ]
Chapter 43: Looking for the truth.
Notes:
Who’s excited for the upcoming X-Factor starring Daken? I’m excited.
No Additional Warnings on this chapter.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
43.
“Do we have any leads?” Ororo demanded as she came back.
She entered the conference room like a fury, air cracking around her, and joined Kurt immediately. The two linked hands, Kurt gray with worry.
Laura stood at the opposite end of the room, by her brother. Jubilee sat nearby, not daring to come too close, but her presence was enough to soothe Laura.
If only Laura had been with Logan –
She’d been the first on the scene when they realized what had happened, but Logan’s trail ended abruptly and no amount of trying allowed her to find it again; so she’d reluctantly been one of the first to come back to the school, for she knew her brother needed her too.
The room was bursting with activity. Over the past hour, all teams had come back from a thorough scouring of the city – none of them having found Logan. Some, like Jimmy, where still out looking.
According to Lorna, who’d been with Logan, they’d all split up to cover more ground and he simply hadn’t gotten back. The psychic attack must have come just moments before Logan’s abduction, so that he couldn’t ask for help.
The telepaths – all three of them, hit in quick succession or perhaps even simultaneously – were still out of commission; Pryde was pondering whether to contact Emma Frost for help. In the meantime, other heroes had joined the search and were still scouting the city. The last time Logan had disappeared like this, he’d died and then he’d been revived and brainwashed: tensions were running high.
They could search the city all they wanted; they wouldn’t find anything, Laura was sure of it.
At Ororo’s query, Pryde raised her head from the interactive map of the city she was surveying, that showed areas already covered. She motioned helplessly towards Akihiro.
Akihiro snarled and curled protectively around the still unconscious form in his arms: Remus’ servant.
The woman with his mother’s face, and a scent so eerily similar to his.
Laura held her breath as a new wave of repulsive pheromones emanated from him. She’d never seen him use his power to this degree, with no finesse but sheer force in it. No X-Man had so far managed to come near.
He’d gotten back his Pherokinesis just in time to protect what he’d been led to believe was his own mother. Laura felt for him, truly, she did. She understood very well what he was feeling. Like he’d done for her, she’d tried to dispel him of the delusion; but he was a man possessed. When she’d suggested she could even be just a shell, like Sarah, he’d snarled that she wasn’t. He wasn’t going to listen to words, but Laura couldn’t find it in herself to be as ruthless as he’d been when he’d shot Sarah’s clone.
But Logan was gone. They needed information.
Obviously everyone in the room, Akihiro included, knew that if they really wanted, if they decided to mob him, they could take the woman. But it would be pointless, at least until she stayed unconscious. Akihiro had already tried to rouse her a few times, but to no avail.
Until the telepaths regained consciousness, this was an impasse.
Ororo walked up to Akihiro, tall and regal. She stopped nearer than others had managed to. “What happened?”
He reported on his encounter in the park with a clipped voice, for he’d been asked to repeat himself quite often already. He said the static sounds had began when he was near the woman, and they’d gotten stronger when Jean got close to them. He reiterated forcefully that the woman had tried to warn them before whatever was in her mind detonated.
Ororo nodded, her lips a thin line. Then she dropped to a crouch and attempted what only Laura had tried to do. “Akihiro, it’s very unlikely that this is your mother,” she said softly.
His head jerked to the side. “I know.” His features were contorted in a grimace.
Ororo nodded. “Then -”
“I don’t understand Remus’ plan,” he said plainly. “If she’d sent Kitsune to fetch Logan, I’d understand. He would have been bound to recoil at her sight, be sloppy. But she was staking out the school! And Remus knew already where Logan was, because she hit as soon as he was alone. But Kitsune was sent here -”
“She was waiting for you,” Ororo pointed out.
“Remus couldn’t have known that I knew my mother’s face. That I would falter, too.” Akihiro clenched his jaw. “It doesn’t make any sense.”
Ororo laid out a hand towards him. “I understand you’re hurting, Akihiro. And I understand your doubts. But Remus could have found that information in Logan’s mind. This woman…” she trailed off, searching for the right thing to say. “She was tailored to you,” she said delicately. Akihiro bit down hard on his tongue.
“We’re just toys to them,” he whispered. He sounded like he was holding back tears. “Chips to be bartered for their fucking game. It doesn’t matter if this isn’t my m-mother, Munroe. She was created and used. She said that Remus is all she’s ever known! Do you understand how that feels?”
He looked up at her with crazed eyes. Ororo conceded the point, shaking her head with a mournful expression. No, of course she couldn’t. No one could possibly understand in his eyes – not even Laura, for this woman had been created by Romulus’ sister. And so, only Akihiro could understand. Remus had masterfully laid out her trap, that much was sure.
Akihiro looked away, his arms tightening around the woman. “Grey herself was saying we ought to help her.”
“Yes,” Ororo appeased him. “We all agree on that. And we will. But first we need to find your father, Akihiro -” Her voice finally gave out, worry burning a hole in her.
He shut his eyes. He knew. He knew that time was of the essence, that Logan could be lost to them already. He knew Kitsune’s help was paramount. Laura knew that his protestations didn’t mean that he didn’t care about Logan’s whereabouts.
He’d just fallen completely for Remus’ revolting trick. And faced with the woman he’d missed his entire life, he could only fiercely protect her.
And he knew that he was falling for it. But what else could he do? Laura understood what he was feeling. Even as Sarah’s clone lay dead, Laura had mourned both her and what-should-have-beens.
She took a step towards him. He looked up sharply, and she knew that only the affection he bore for her stopped him from assaulting her every sense. “Just let Hank try and wake her up,” she suggested softly. “We won’t hurt her, you know we won’t.”
For even if Kitsune was a despicable low blow, she was also an innocent clone. She hadn’t asked for this, to be created and used. Laura wouldn’t allow harm to come to her.
Akihiro looked down at the woman in his arms, his gaze tinged with loss. “She looks just like mother,” he whispered.
Laura stepped closer, waiting to see if he’d stop her, and when he didn’t she got closer still until she stood just by him. She crouched down, laid a hand on his arm. He was trembling. “I’m sorry,” she murmured.
He nodded, his eyes shut. Then he grimaced, secured his hold on the woman, and he got up. “All right, I’m… taking her to McCoy,” he said to the room at large, dropping the curtain of pheromones. There were a few sighs of relief as the oppressive atmosphere dissipated. Ororo bowed her head in thanks.
“I’m coming with you,” Laura offered quietly, but he shook his head.
“I know this is a strain for you, Laura.” He adjusted his grip, looking at her with an earnest gaze. She remembered well his honest, worried eyes as she tried to talk her down after he’d killed Sarah’s clone. “I can’t let you relive it.”
“Our father’s in danger,” she pointed out. She burst with worry for Logan… and her heart clenched at what was happening to Akihiro, but it was in large part due to the shameful deceit. How far back would this throw his recovery? Looking at his pale face, she feared the answer. “What sort of sister would I be if I let you face this alone?”
He nodded grimly, then looked at Jubilee, waiting to the side. “Bring her with, you need her.”
Laura looked at her partner, who nodded back at him and caught Laura’s hand. “You don’t have to do this alone,” Jubilee murmured. Laura’s chest tightened and she squeezed Jubilee’s hand in silent thanks.
At the door, Akihiro turned to the room. “Rogue,” he called out. The woman, who was following the search from a screen and talking with the Avengers, looked up. “Update Johnny, please?”
Akihiro’s phone had gotten destroyed during the fight with Kitsune. Earlier that night, Akihiro had raised his head from his silent contemplation of the clone’s face and had asked Rogue to tell Johnny Storm he was okay. She’d done so, and Storm had called her immediately, asking if Akihiro wanted him to come over. It was clear to anyone with eyes that the answer was a sound ‘yes’, but Akihiro wouldn’t have it, and he’d said firmly that Johnny had a job to do.
It was clear that something had happened between the two of them during the attacks.
When Rogue nodded, Akihiro let out a sigh and then went down the corridor; Laura and Jubilee, still holding their hands, followed him. She didn’t know who was squeezing the other’s hand harder; Jubilee, too, was a worried bundle of nerves. She loved Logan dearly: of course she’d fear for him too. Laura wondered if Akihiro had made his suggestion so that Jubilee could be comforted, too.
Hank was in his laboratory, the three telepaths laid out in three metal beds, their heads encased by helmets with cables coming out of them. He was perusing the data the contraptions must be giving him, but he looked up as the trio came in.
“Put her there,” he said, pointing at an another metal bed. Manacles for feet and hands protruded from it, and Akihiro stopped dead in his tracks – but then he soldiered on, his jaw clenched. He knew that they couldn’t be sure of her cooperation until she woke up.
Still, his hands were shaking as he trapped the woman whose face was the same as his mother’s, and Laura hurried to the other side to help him.
She really wore an uncanny resemblance to Akihiro. Laura had seen her twice – once in the urn portrait Akihiro had painted from Logan’s memory, and the second time in Logan’s own mind – but that hadn’t been enough to prepare her for the sight. Kitsune had the same sharp cheekbones as Akihiro’s, the same eyebrows, the same nose. Of course Akihiro latched on to her so strongly, when he had never even seen her in the flesh, her loss a bleeding wound. At least Laura had known Sarah, but he hadn’t had even that, torn from the womb of his mother to be used and abused.
In that moment Laura knew that when they found Remus, she’d have to be held back lest she murdered the woman. For what she’d done to Akihiro, and for what she was doing to her father. Remus was obviously cut from the same cloth as her sadistic twin.
A warmth beside her; Jubilee was holding her hand again, firm and sure. Laura loved her. They waited in silence for Hank to leave the telepaths’ side.
It wasn’t too long before Hank abandoned his tablet on a desk and joined them. He delicately checked Kitsune’s pulse and then took out a large variety of instruments, with which he proceeded to check the woman’s vitals. He was quick and thorough, checking for internal injuries even as Akihiro quietly said she wasn’t bleeding.
At some point they heard someone come running down the corridor. Akihiro almost sagged with relief as he caught the scent, and when Johnny Storm, clothing dirtied by his gruesome work in the streets, walked through the lab’s door, Akihiro let out a shaky sob.
Storm reached him and wrapped his arms around him, tight and soothing. Akihiro tucked his head against the man’s chest, clinging to him for dear life. “I’m sorry,” Storm murmured, “I came as soon as I could.”
“It’s all right,” Akihiro protested.
“How are you?”
“I’m fine,” Akihiro lied. Laura met Storm’s gaze and shook her head.
Storm grimaced, his hand reaching up to cradle Akihiro’s head, his fingers gently massaging Akihiro’s scalp. His eyes found Kitsune and he inhaled sharply at her sight, his arm tight around Akihiro as he whispered reassurances.
Laura clung to Jubilee’s hand.
A short time later, Hank moved back from Kitsune. He removed his glasses with a sigh, folded them, and put them in a breast pocket. Then he declared himself pretty sure that the woman’s state of unconsciousness was linked to the psychic attack; so he didn’t dare injecting her with anything, in fear of doing more damage than good and finding themselves without leads. The solution lay with telepathy, and until the telepaths woke up there was little Hank could do.
“You can’t do anything?” Jubilee repeated, stricken, her hand shaking in Laura’s. “Hank, Wolvie’s out there. We have to do something!”
Akihiro stood still in Johnny’s arms, his head tilted to look at Kitsune. There were streaks of tears down his cheeks.
Hank put his glasses back on. “My best bet is waking up Jean and the others,” he said gently. “I’ll work on that.” He moved towards the desk. “I’ll update Kitty. You’re welcome to stay,” he added, with a glance at Akihiro. “But this might take a while.”
“I’ll stay,” Akihiro said softly. He was still looking at Kitsune, his lip trembling. Storm kept gently caressing his hair.
“And I,” Laura said.
Jubilee squeezed her hand. “Me too, of course.”
Hank hummed, focused on the tablet. After a few moments he looked up at them. “Well, it might not be too long a wait after all. Kitty lost her patience, it seems. She asked Emma for help. She’s coming.”
The situation was dire, for Pryde to willingly go to Emma Frost.
Brimstone. Kurt appeared in the middle of the lab, the glacial telepath in tow, and disappeared. As Frost straightened her white business suit, Kurt reappeared with the Cuckoos.
Laura felt a shiver in her mind; their sister’s fragment, that so far had lain dormant, except from when it had helped her first with Logan and then with Akihiro. The Cuckoos tilted their heads in her direction, but offered no comment or apology. They still hadn’t gotten out of the habit to dress identically.
Frost arched an eyebrow at their overwhelmed welcome committee. In truth, Laura wouldn’t know what to say, not in this terrible moment, not with the turn to crime Frost’s life had retaken recently.
“Good to see you all,” Frost finally drawled. “I’ll get right to it, then. Girls!” With that, she strode purposefully towards the unconscious telepaths, the Cuckoos right behind her. The foursome took a diamond formation around the telepaths and closed their eyes.
They swayed in place; Laura, Hank, and Kurt – who’d stayed and was as grey-faced as before – moved to catch them, but they kept upright. Frost furrowed her brow in concentration, the Cuckoos mimicking her.
Then they all staggered a step backwards with a gasp. On the beds, the telepaths shot up, Jean struggling to stay upright and falling on her back. “Remus,” she exhaled. “God, she -”
“- seems quite powerful,” Frost ended her sentence, cradling her own head. When Jean looked up at her, she smiled. “Hello, dear.”
“Emma.” Jean attempted to prop herself up on an elbow. “Thank you.”
Rachel and Betsy echoed the sentiment, Rachel with some reluctance, the both of them clearly just as weakened as Jean. It didn’t certainly bode well that Remus had managed such a feat. Hank rushed to their side, firmly imparting that they should rest.
“Yes, don’t worry, darlings. Mama’s here.” With a smirk, Frost turned her attention to Kitsune. Akihiro disentangled himself from Storm’s embrace and made to move between Kitsune and Frost, clearly a bit mistrustful of the telepath.
“Don’t hurt her,” he said lowly. Frost cocked her head.
“Far be it from me,” she said in a tone that wasn’t at all reassuring. “She’s the only one that could lead to Logan, I gather? That man sure loves to get himself kidnapped.”
Laura bristled. Still, it was just a stupid joke – Frost was serious, her features set. She wasn’t going to botch this; she knew the danger just as them all.
With a nod, Akihiro retreated from Kitsune’s side, Storm right beside him. Laura and Jubilee, too, moved to give Frost space.
She and the Cuckoos took the same diamond formation as before. After a few long moments of tense silence, with the other telepaths focused on the foursome despite Hank’s protestation, a Cuckoo – Celeste, Laura knew despite their twin clothing and scent – let out a cry and almost dropped to the floor, blood trickling from her nose… Kurt caught her just in time.
“Emma,” Jean murmured, struggling to sit up, her keen gaze fixed on Kitsune. Beside her, Betsy hissed. Mindee fell with a shriek, caught by Storm.
“It’s mined,” Rachel spoke up. “Emma, don’t be stupid -”
Mined. Just as Akihiro’s mind had been. Laura looked to her brother, pale, his eyes darting feverishly between Frost and Kitsune. Frost was bleeding from both nose and ears. Phoebe was grinding her teeth.
And then Kitsune started convulsing.
With a snarl, Akihiro was at Frost’s side. He took her by an arm and shook her violently, and held her up when she collapsed with a shout. “You moron,” she snapped, gasping, her fingers clutching at his arms. “I could have -”
“I know what those traps do,” he interrupted her. “It needs a delicate touch.” He looked at Kitsune, who’d settled again. She was still unconscious. “You’re no use to us if you fall.”
“He’s right,” Phoebe said weakly. She was holding herself upright with sheer force of will, her hands tight around the manacles at Kitsune’s feet, her knuckles white. “It was hurting us.”
Frost scoffed. “Well, it was certainly tougher to crack. With your help, perhaps?” She let go of Akihiro and looked at Jean, Rachel, and Betsy, still so pale and exhausted.
“They need rest. At least some hours.” Hank said firmly as he tended to Mindee and Celeste.
“We don’t have some hours!” Jubilee shot. But even Kurt was shaking his head. He knew the truth before even Frost turned towards Jubilee and, not wholly unkindly, said:
“It’s too late, they must be out of the city already. Now this woman is all we have and...” she trailed off, looking at Akihiro. “Akihiro’s right. We need to tread very carefully. It wouldn’t do to harm her mind.” She looked down at Kitsune, then back up at Akihiro; her gaze flickered.
“What,” he demanded, sensing she wanted to say something – perhaps wondering why she’d hold it back, her that was usually so outspoken.
Frost pressed a palm to her forehead and sighed. “I couldn’t see clearly, but this woman’s no clone. Not recent, at least. She has decades of memories.” Akihiro stilled, turned his gaze to Kitsune… both horror and abject hope in his eyes. Laura’s heart clenched. “And there’s a wall, too, blocking other memories,” Frost continued, her gaze moving to Hank, who was now checking Rachel. “And Beast found something too, didn’t he?” Hank grimaced. “Akihiro has a right to know, doesn’t he?” Frost added, cocking an eyebrow. The previously unconscious telepaths turned as one towards Hank; Jean paled, seemingly having attempted to use telepathy despite Hank’s recommendation and having managed to see what Frost was on about. Hank just shook his head.
Akihiro looked between them all, caught between dangerous hope and horrified fear.
“What,” he repeated. Laura moved towards him at the same time as Storm; they took a hand each.
Hank turned with a sigh. “It doesn’t have to mean anything -”
“What,” Akihiro said forcefully. His hand was shaking, his whole body was shaking. He was barely within an inch of coming apart at the seams. In that moment Laura hated Frost with a burning passion; surely there was a better way to break whatever terrible news she was intent on breaking.
“Her -” Hank caught himself, took out his glasses, looked at Akihiro with an earnest, soft gaze. “Her womb’s missing.”
Itsu’s womb had been torn apart to take Akihiro out. With a cry, Akihiro looked back at Kitsune… his breath coming in quick puffs. Storm moved delicately, wrapping his arms around him. Akihiro clung to him, his features distorted, inhuman. Laura bit the inside of her cheek – this was worse than what what they’d initially thought. A few years of servitude inflicted on a clone were terrible enough, but decades of use on a brainwashed woman… on, perhaps, Itsu herself…
“So,” Akihiro choked out, “So she’s -?” He couldn’t say it.
Frost lay a hand on the metal bed, inches from Kitsune’s head. “She might be your mother, yes.”
Akihiro let out a wail.
Notes:
Next: Home.
.
[Was there a moment you appreciated the most? Let me know what you think, your comments make my day! ^-^ ]
Chapter 44: Home.
Notes:
Additional Warnings: mentions of self-harm; long scene with non-sexual nudity but with two almost sexual moments (the scene goes from “Johnny was on the other side of the glass in an instant” to “He immediately set about drying his hair”); discussion of pheromone manipulation; mention of rape.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
44.
Johnny gently closed the door behind them.
He’d suggested he stay the night. He’d said he’d gladly stay for however many nights and days Daken needed him to stay, all his other duties kept on hold.
And Daken, oh, Daken needed him. He needed Johnny like air, like blood. He was so afraid of being alone, alone with his thoughts. He couldn’t do this, couldn’t face this alone.
He wondered distantly how Laura was faring. But she had her own ghosts to chase away and he couldn’t bear to weigh on her shoulders too, with his pain, his horror. So here they stood, Johnny and he, stock still in Daken’s room.
Johnny had seen better days. He was obviously exhausted, pale and bloodied, his clothes stained by the long hours of taking civilians out of bombed buildings. But he had come.
God, he had come.
Daken sagged and Johnny was there, holding him tight and sure and warm. He clung to Johnny as if he were drowning, and he was, God, he was. There was no distant, soothing cocoon enveloping him, for Grey was still recuperating and then she’d have to tackle… to tackle… to work with the other telepaths, to find out where Logan was. Logan was gone, taken, in Remus’ hands, and it was Daken’s fault; if he hadn’t come back to the school, the trap wouldn’t have sprung…
“Hey, hey, no,” Johnny shushed him softly as Daken tasted salt on his tongue. “It’s all right. I’m here. It’s all right, Akihiro.”
Akihiro. Yes. His name. He was no mongrel. He had to remember that.
What had been his original name? The name he would have taken if he’d been born the right way. If he’d just been normal. Why hadn’t he let Logan tell him, before it was too late, before he was gone again…?
“It’s going to be all right,” Johnny promised. Dare Akihiro believe it? “Why don’t you – ah – let’s get you in the shower,” Johnny said softly. “You’re all bloodied. You want to take a shower?”
Akihiro knew that he, too, was still covered in blood and grime from the earlier attack at the restaurant, and from his fight in the park… his fight with…
No. No, there must be some other explanation…
Akihiro nodded, desperate to take a long scalding shower. Johnny led him to the en-suite, run the water, hovered by him. Akihiro discarded his clothes, let them pool at his feet. He was tired, so tired. Johnny’s breath hitched and his gaze was full of tenderness, of worry. This was intimate; this should have been a different moment, carefully planned, in his mind vague thoughts of setting boundaries and taking things slow, Grey’s suggestions swirling, swirling, but he had to get under the water now. Now, before he went utterly mad with grief.
He stepped into the shower box, closed it. Johnny sighed. “I’ll leave you to it, okay? I’m… I’m leaving the door open.” He’d been warned, of course. Of Akihiro’s self-harm, of his suicide attempt. He retreated back into Akihiro’s room and Akihiro thrust his head under the spray, gasping, reeling.
There was an old exercise Romulus loved to inflict upon him. A resistance test in the snow: blizzards whipping Daken’s tender, young flesh for hours on end. He’d always hated cold from those times, and usually, usually, when fear and unrest took him, hot showers helped him keep his head above the water, when breaking his flesh couldn’t work.
But this wasn’t working either. He saw himself face the woman with a Kitsune mask, and he recalled how he’d pondered how to hit her, how he’d almost gutted her. He saw his mother, in Logan’s memory, tall and proud and so, so beautiful. He saw the woman with a Kitsune mask, and she used pheromones with ease. She manipulated pheromones…
He must have made some sound because Johnny was back, hovering in the doorway, his eyes wide and oh so worried. Akihiro fought for breath and found none, coughed, sobbed.
Johnny was on the other side of the glass in an instant. “I’m getting inside,” he said urgently, kindly. “Is that okay? Can I come in?”
Overwhelmed, adrift, horrified, Akihiro nodded. Johnny stripped quickly, retaining his boxers, and then he was there with Akihiro, he was holding Akihiro, their bodies wet and slippery, Akihiro’s mind reeling, reeling, reeling.
He searched Johnny’s mouth, under the hot spray that would harm anyone else but them, and he kissed Johnny urgently, feverishly, desperately. His mouth filled with cotton, with bile. His fingers dug into Johnny’s shoulders as he pressed Johnny to himself, and he only wanted to be held. God, he wanted to never let go.
Such actions had obvious consequences. He could feel himself filling, felt Johnny’s flesh stir too, and he couldn’t, God, didn’t trust himself there and then. He didn’t trust himself not to offer, not to seek that empty comfort, not to chase the pain away with what he wasn’t sure he wanted. Not here, not now, not like this; that was a subject for long, careful examination, not a crude moment to succumb to.
So he moved back… and at the same time Johnny did the same, pulling his hips away but still holding Akihiro firmly, soothingly. Johnny’s gaze was so tender, so focused. He remembered, he knew, he cared. His hands run gentle warm circles on Akihiro’s back. “You want me to step out?”
“No. Stay. Please.” Akihiro marveled, breathless, at what had just happened. At that action, taken firmly, as if concerted. Sure, and respectful. Johnny respected him, knew him, loved him. Johnny was here.
“I could wash you,” Johnny offered softly. “If you want.”
A lump in his throat, Akihiro nodded. He stood, overcome by an aching tenderness, as Johnny lathered his hands and gently rubbed Akihiro’s face – tenderly, cupping Akihiro’s jaw, his thumb gently tracing Akihiro’s nose, his chin. Then Akihiro’s arms, and his chest, his stomach. Then he knelt there on the cold tiles – not so cold now – to rub Akihiro’s legs and feet. Akihiro reeled… a good feeling, this time. He reeled at the affection, at the care, at how resolutely Johnny was ignoring what was right in front of him and the tent in his own boxers, the wet fabric clinging to his thighs. No one else would have done that. Anyone would have just sneered at the hotness of the display, at the chase; anyone would have caught Daken’s hair in a tight fist and would have pressed him against the wall and shoved their hand down, gripping him, taking him, using him.
Anyone, but not Johnny.
Johnny looked up, his blue eyes bright and loving and true, droplets of water trapped in his long lashes. “Turn around?”
Akihiro did. He braced himself against the wall and sighed, melted, as Johnny washed his legs, his buttocks, his back. Then there were hands in Akihiro’s hair, gently massaging his scalp. He tilted his head back, letting Johnny wash his hair.
Johnny caught the shower head and sprayed him carefully – the water gently trickling, rinsing him. “On the front, love?” he exhaled.
It was strange, to be called that. Oh, he’d had his fair share of people addressing him that way; people who thought a stale endearment meant they owned him. Of all the ways he’d been called by marks, that one was the worst, perhaps because it felt like a lie. But Johnny gave it a new meaning. It held care and deep affection and concern, it held real love.
Akihiro turned around, facing Johnny once more as the water hit him, cleansed him. He could lose himself in Johnny’s tender gaze, in the slow care he was taking with each movement. It was soothing, calming somewhat. Akihiro felt strangely, miraculously at ease… for a moment, there with Johnny: a sort of tender, impossible bubble of peace.
Wordlessly Akihiro caught the shower head from Johnny and put it back in its place. He lathered his hands too, and washed the exhaustion and dust and blood from the beloved features, taking his time. They were breathing quietly, only the rush of water in their ears, their steady heartbeats softly drumming in Akihiro’s. It felt like an old rite, a baptism. Slowly he sank to his knees, sliding Johnny’s boxers down his legs. Johnny’s heart picked up the pace but he stood still, going so far as to unthreateningly cover himself, worried gaze searching Akihiro’s. His heart clenching, Akihiro kissed the back of Johnny’s hand, and then went about washing Johnny’s thighs, Johnny’s calves. When he looked up Johnny was still gazing down at him with wonder, and reverence, and oh, Akihiro felt light like a balloon, inflamed with tenderness. He stood then, motioned for Johnny to turn, and washed Johnny’s buttocks and back.
His palms turned careful on Johnny’s shoulders. He felt and saw bruises there, where he’d dug his fingers, and he burned with shame. He placed kisses on the ruined skin, faintly brushing his lips against the soap. “I’m sorry,” he murmured.
Johnny turned. Oh, his eyes! So clear, so true, so kind. He embraced Akihiro, enveloping him within his arms – a hand on Akihiro’s back, the other cradling the nape of his neck, tenderly, gently. Their bodies pressed so close, so warm, so comforting. “It’s all right,” he whispered, “It’s all right, I swear. It’s going to be all right.”
Akihiro could believe it. There, in Johnny’s arms – he could.
He wrapped his arms around Johnny, drew them back under the spray. The water had turned lukewarm, but there was no need for heat anymore. He was safe here, held in Johnny’s arms, holding in return.
But there was no mistaking the hardness pressed against his stomach – and yet it was just flesh, a reaction. No demands, no pressure.
It would take just a moment to slide a hand between them and help Johnny out. A warm gesture to thank him for the comfort he was giving, for not asking.
But sex wasn’t a transaction.
With a sigh Akihiro pulled back, cupped the beloved face. He pressed his lips to Johnny’s, quick, soft. “I’m going to give you a moment. If you need -” He glanced down; Johnny blushed.
“I’m sorry,” he said, but Akihiro shook his head.
“No need to be. It’s natural. I can’t ask you not to get hard, it’s absurd.” With a reassuring smile he slid the shower box open and stepped out.
His own erection had wilted. He grabbed a towel and the hair-dryer and went back to his room, gently closing the door behind him to give Johnny some privacy.
He immediately set about drying his hair, the setting the loudest; he doubted there were people awake in the rooms on either side, everyone focused on the search for Logan. He knew Laura was in Jubilee’s room, the woman’s bed piled with the both of them, Shogo, and Gabby.
Laura had tried to be strong for him, but he’d seen the cracks. She was worried about Logan, and the similarities with her own clash with the Orphans of X had just been too much to bear on top of that. He was glad she’d taken some time for herself, to regain her bearings.
He, too, had retired because he was simply too shell-shocked to be of any use. When Frost had given her wretched news he’d broken down, there in McCoy’s lab, even his pheromones getting out of control for a moment. Johnny had held on, holding him tight and sure even though he was green with nausea; when Akihiro had regained control, Johnny had just smiled. “So I gather your power’s back,” he’d said softly.
Akihiro felt somewhat relaxed now, warmth and tenderness sunk in his skin. Or at least, he was prepared to face the horror head-on; to confront whatever the truth came out to be.
If Kitsune was his mother… God, he couldn’t even think of such an outcome. If Kitsune was his mother, if she’d served Remus for decades… had Akihiro’s birth been engineered?
Their pheromones…
The door to the en-suite opened. Akihiro set the hair-dryer down and turned, struggling for a quip. “That was quick,” he managed, eyeing Johnny, a towel wrapped around the man’s waist.
Johnny shook his head. “I just flamed on and got rid of it.” He stood there, gaze soft. “You didn’t think I’d just think of myself while you needed me?”
Akihiro’s heart clenched. Yes, he had. Because it was just how things went, right? Johnny cared for him, but why should that hinder his needs? It shouldn’t, and Akihiro wasn’t going to fault him for that. He wasn’t going to demand anything of the sort. This was all so new. He was still stumbling around, trying to understand himself, trying to navigate this relationship, trying to undo decades of training…
Decades of training.
His thoughts went back to the elephant in the room. God, he’d lied to himself. He wasn’t ready. He wasn’t ready to face the truth about Kitsune.
Johnny held up a hand. “You all right?”
Akihiro nodded, shook his head. He wrapped his arms around himself, shivering. “If she’s my mother,” he choked out. “If my mother has my powers,” he dredged out of himself. “Did she trick Logan? Did she even want me?”
It needed to be said. He needed to face it before knowing the truth. What if she’d been a trap, set on Logan’s path by Romulus and Remus, working together? But then, wouldn’t the telepaths have sensed something like that in Romulus’ mind?
“Oh, Aki-” Johnny closed the distance between them, worry in his eyes, but then he stopped, his hands hovering awkwardly by Akihiro’s arms. “Do you need to get dressed…?”
Akihiro was still stark naked.
But he didn’t care about that. Nudity didn’t worry him. “ It’s all right. You can… please… Hold me. Just hold me.” His voice cracked.
Johnny embraced him, careful and gentle. Akihiro drew a shaky breath, rested his face in the crook of Johnny’s neck. “Your power doesn’t work like that,” Johnny murmured.
Akihiro made a sound of protest. Yes it did. It did, it was why he’d always doubted everything – why he’d been worried his Pherokinesis could influence Johnny. Why he’d pondered how easier their relationship could be if it never came back.
“It doesn’t,” Johnny insisted. “Reed was thorough when he analyzed it. The pheromones just make you more attractive, right? Because they don’t work on people who don’t find you attractive. They just make you, like, smell good to whoever already likes you. It’s just an addition, like your looks, it’s not some...” he hesitated, guessing what was tearing at Akihiro. “It’s not some date rape drug,” he added, softly.
Everything Johnny was saying was true. But still, it was one more string to pull. A weapon to hit an unsuspecting mark. And if Logan had been a mark –
“But it is a form of manipulation,” he pointed out. “And if she used it -”
“I’m going to say something and I need you to listen.” Johnny tilted his head back, looking down at Akihiro with blazing eyes. “Are you listening?”
A lump in his throat, Akihiro nodded. He’d take anything, anything to relieve the weight in his chest.
Johnny took a breath. “This woman’s mind was wiped, okay? She said she had no son. Why do that to her, why make her forget, if she hadn’t wanted you?”
Akihiro shook his head. “We don’t know if that’s true until she wakes up -”
“One more reason to wait for that before assuming the worst, right?” Johnny said softly, gently caressing Akihiro’s back. “But let’s assume it’s true. If she’s your mom and she doesn’t remember, and your mom was killed too,” he said gently, “It means they had to stop her with every means necessary, and that can only be because she wanted you. She loved you. Even if,” he grimaced, “Even if she manipulated Logan, she wanted you, okay?”
It was callous, perhaps, to dismiss Logan’s own feelings in the matter – to only worry about how such deception could affect Akihiro. But Logan was gone and until he was back, Akihiro should focus on himself. He had to, really; because if all this turned out to be true, once they rescued Logan… the old man would need help facing this, as well.
And there was another possibility, too. Other than her simply being a clone. What if she hadn’t been serving Remus or Romulus at all? What if she’d just lived her life simply until Logan had stumbled upon her, and that had brought the twins’ attention on her? For Kitsune had said she was Remus’ descendant. Even if it was just a lie Remus told her to make her feel special, using the fact that they had the same power… Even if that wasn’t true, even if she and Akihiro weren’t the twins’ blood – and he didn’t even want to think about that, about what it would mean if it were true – it still meant that she had a similar power to the twins. And perhaps they’d discovered it, they’d discovered her, and thought to use her – another victim of Logan’s mere presence.
Akihiro didn’t know what option he dreaded less between those three. Perhaps he’d bear it better if she were just a clone, just a poor clone doomed with his mother’s face. Because if she was his mother and she was a victim, it meant that she’d never lived her life; it meant that she’d been used and abused just like Akihiro. And if she was complicit , but then had change d her mind – it still meant that initially, he hadn’t been wanted. That all his life turned out to be a lie again…
But was it true? Was it fair to himself? Wasn’t he more than the sum of what had been done to him; didn’t he transcend his past?
Didn’t he owe it to himself to go beyond? And, most importantly: Johnny was right. He was torturing himself – wallowing in doubts and terrors when he still didn’t know what had happened. When he just had to wait for the telepaths to get better in order to discover what was indeed the truth.
He ought to be well rested to face it; to be more useful in their search for Logan, too.
He sighed. “You’re right. This is pointless, right now –”
Johnny held him close. “It’s not pointless,” he murmured. “It’s what you feel. And it’s perfectly normal that this thing shocked you,” he reassured Akihiro. “I can’t even imagine how you’re feeling right now. But I just want you to know that you’re not alone, okay?” He pressed his forehead to Akihiro’s, his eyes earnest and true. Akihiro melted into that gaze, into the embrace.
“I know,” he whispered, his hands clutching at Johnny’s back. “You’re here.” For how long, he asked himself, recalling his panic when the restaurant had blown up; but that was a conversation for another moment, one terror to be tackled at a time. For now, Johnny was here. For now, he was alive and well and he was right there with Akihiro.
“We’re going to face it together,” Johnny promised, stars in his eyes. “I’m going to stand right beside you.”
“Johnny,” he exhaled. He shut his eyes, overwhelmed, and pressed himself against Johnny. He felt Johnny’s lips on his face – gentle, loving brushes, butterfly-like, delicate. Johnny was warm and safe, his heartbeat a gentle lull. Akihiro felt home; he felt like he could overcome whatever came his way. Not just because Johnny was here… but nevertheless, Johnny made him stronger.
Johnny cupped the back of his head. “You should rest,” he murmured.
Akihiro hummed, opening his eyes. He knew he could go on for days without sleeping, but he shouldn’t have to. He didn’t have to. And Johnny was exhausted too, after saving all those people in the streets, and yet he still held himself upright, a pillar of strength for Akihiro’s benefit. Akihiro’s heart clenched. Oh, he loved him so. “You too,” he pointed out, his hands roaming Johnny’s shoulders.
Johnny huffed a laugh. “Yeah, that’s true.”
Reluctantly, Akihiro disentangled himself from Johnny’s arms, angling himself to consider the single bed. There wasn’t much space for the both of them.
“You up to some spooning?” Johnny suggested lightly. Akihiro looked back at him, at his earnest blue eyes. The truth was that he could never have enough of that gentle warmth, that affection. He hadn’t wanted to be too clingy, but if Johnny himself came up with the idea –
“Yes,” he said softly. “I’d love to, actually.”
Johnny smiled. “Do you have a pajama I can borrow? You know I run so hot, I have to sleep naked, but I… I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.” He blushed.
“I’m not uncomfortable with nudity.” Akihiro clasped Johnny’s hand. “I do sleep naked too. Actually, if you don’t mind, I -” he trailed off, feeling uncharacteristically shy. After all they’d done, after their beautiful moment of intimacy in the shower, it seemed so tame in comparison.
“Tell me anything,” Johnny urged him, his voice so soft. Akihiro’s heart clenched.
“I like to feel you,” he blurted out. “It helps, I think. To feel your skin against mine. It relaxes me.”
“It’s like you said, no?” Johnny murmured, squeezing his hand. “It’s the contact that you want… the intimacy. It checks out that skin to skin makes it better.” He reached out, tucked a strand of hair behind Akihiro’s ear. Akihiro leant into the touch, yearning filling his chest. Yes… it checked out, indeed. “Okay,” Johnny said softly. “But I do need briefs.”
He probably feared a morning encore of his reaction in the shower and didn’t want to startle Akihiro.
“Briefs you shall have.” Akihiro turned his head to kiss Johnny’s palm, then left him to fish two from the dresser, for he’d need one too.
They climbed the bed. It felt natural, to be enveloped by Johnny; to feel Johnny’s strong chest against his back, Johnny’s arms encasing him, their legs entwined. They laced their fingers together, Johnny’s face pressed against his shoulder, and Akihiro knew that he could overcome everything that came his way. He was finally home, and he could face anything.
He’d rescue Logan, and he’d learn the truth about his mother.
And he’d face it all with his head held high.
Notes:
Next: Logan and Remus.
.
[Gosh, I loved writing this chapter. I think it’s one of my favorites, actually! What about you? Is there a particular scene you liked? (If you guess my favorite scene you can ask me what you want about the story!) Are you worried about Logan? What’s your worst case scenario for Kitsune? Let me know in the comments below ^-^ ]
Chapter 45: Logan and Remus.
Notes:
I hope you’re all okay! Stay home and stay safe!
Additional Warnings: mentions of dubious consent, blink-and-you’ll-miss-it implied incest, reproductive coercion.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
45.
“Hello, Logan.”
He came to slowly, still groggy, seemingly unable to pinpoint anything about his current whereabouts. He remembered patrolling the streets with Lorna and Piotr, he remembered splitting up; he remembered getting into a flaming building, following the trail of screaming. He remembered a sudden wrongness, the feeling of being watched, of a void, of someone being there – he’d recognized the telltale signs too late, and before he had the time to call out for help, darkness had taken him.
Now he was with her, with Remus, her not-scent unmistakable, her voice coming from far away. He blinked, once, twice, tried to move, but he couldn’t. She’d drugged him, or she was in his head.
Remus cocked her head, there in a shadowed corner, seated on a massive straw chair. Her hair was pinned into an elaborate crown. She leaned forward, her forearms rested on her parted thighs, and watched him with a smile that made his blood run cold.
“Aren’t you going to greet me?” she said casually.
Logan tried to shake his head, to clear his thoughts. To no avail. “Remus,” he attempted, his tongue rasping like sandpaper against the roof of his mouth. He lay on something soft, a mattress maybe. “What -”
“Oh, forgive me,” she said almost demurely. A pressure he hadn’t even noticed until that moment lifted, and he found himself free to move.
He was on his feet before he could think it through, claws out; he went at her but she dodged him easily, the chair thrown to the side, a carefree laughter spilling from her lips. She parried and grabbed his hands, his claws piercing her palms, and smiled that blood-curdling smile.
“No, Logan,” she said sweetly. “You’re still under the impression that our previous fights were any indication of my actual skill.”
He snarled. He retracted his claws and unsheathed them again, digging hard, but she hardly broke a sweat, her hands like a vise around his.
“If you insist on behaving poorly, dear, I can just put you under again.”
Think. He had to think. He had to act smarter than this. He just had to bide his time, collect information, plan an escape. And the others must be looking for him already.
She huffed out a laughter – she must be hearing him, but even a plan known by an enemy was better than having none. She let him go when he retracted his claws, let him retreat a few steps to the bed he’d woken up in. He didn’t sit down, gaze running quickly from wooden wall to rugs to cupboards to wooden wall. A cabin. And the scent of fresh soil outside…
“Where the hell are we?”
She didn’t answer right away; she calmly took the chair from the floor, put it back in its place, sat upon it with a grin. “My home.”
“This ain’t your home,” he dismissed the notion immediately. “It’s no one’s home.” It wasn’t lived in, it smelled clean and new. It had been made recently.
Her grin stretched, a hint of fangs beneath. “Very good, Logan. Well, these lands,” she moved a hand in a circle, “are my home. This cabin, though, is yours. You like cabins, don’t you? It’s so quaint of you.”
“Mine,” he repeated. His cabin on her property. What the hell was she playing at?
“Yes, dear. All yours. And the small woods outside. There’s game, too. I know you like to hunt.” She linked her fingers together. “Do you like it?”
The cabin and the woods and the fucking game. ‘All yours, dear’. “What the fuck you want from me, Remus?” he snapped.
He could understand kidnap him to kill him, or brainwash him, or clone him… but what the fuck was this? She obviously had no intention of hurting him, but what did she want?
She clenched her jaw. “There’s no need for such language. What I want, Logan, and I will have it, is what anyone with my power and resources wants: an heir to share it all.”
An heir. Of course; it all came back to this, with her fucking deranged family. Romulus had wanted him and it seemed that his twin did, too.
“I won’t be your heir.”
She burst out laughing, her head thrown back. She laughed long and hard, even slapping a hand on her thigh for emphasis, a show for his benefit or perhaps she was genuinely amused. All the same, her eyes were closed, so he sprang for the door –
He was pinned to it, breathless, the single big hand on his chest effortlessly keeping him still, the other twisting both his arms behind his back, against the door. He was being held at her eye-level, his feet pathetically scrambling for purchase against the door, every motion made impossible by the weight of her body. Her ruby lips curled in a snarl that she smoothed as soon as his blurred vision cleared and he could focus on her face.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” she said conversationally. “You? You’re nothing. You’re so frail; you can die. But your genes are strong and any offspring of yours retains both your powers and those of its mother. You will give me an heir, Logan.”
Give her an heir. She meant –
He’d die before putting any kid of his in her clutches. This was a new, deranged low. She was crazy. How the hell had he managed not to see it before? Betsy’s reassurances that Remus hadn’t forced him came again, unbidden, to his mind; what if she had and Betsy just hadn’t been able to sense it? He remembered ’Ro holding his hand, Kurt embracing him tightly. “You’ll have to make me,” he spat, feigning bravado he didn’t feel, his stomach twisted into knots.
Her eyes turned to slits. “How dare you. I took you willing, and I’ll only ever do so. I’m not Romulus,” she spat the name.
He glanced pointedly at the hand on his chest. Her nostrils flared.
“You need to learn your place, but that doesn’t mean I’d put suggestions in your mind or force you bodily. I’m not a monster, Logan.”
Sure she wasn’t. “That’s a relief,” Logan said, but it kind of really was. He could see that she believed it, at least, and anyway lying about it couldn’t possibly serve her any purpose.
But the offhand mention of her brother made him think of Akihiro, of the way he shuddered at the mere mention of Romulus… of all the things his son hadn’t said.
Was this one of them? He couldn’t bear the thought.
And he couldn’t afford to, not in this situation. He had to keep his head in the game, get out. He had to focus on the here and now.
He had to make her talk. “Why me?”
“I told you.” Remus weakened her hold, not enough that he could wriggle free, but enough to give him breathing room. “You’re one of a kind. We tried, Logan,” with a sigh, her voice turned inward, remote. “Fruitlessly, for so very long that eventually Romulus turned his efforts elsewhere. He’s always been weak-minded, governed by his instincts, no matter how sophisticated he attempts to paint himself. But I knew there must be a viable donor somewhere. You.” She splayed her fingers on his chest.
Logan swallowed. Uncomfortable implications about the twins aside, it made sense that one so old and powerful would want an heir. It even made sense that she would seek a way to have that heir be her blood, family. But the collective fascination for his genetic makeup was getting really, truly tiresome.
She sighed. “I’d hoped it wouldn’t come to this. I’d hoped our numerous intercourses would bear fruit, but you didn’t fertilize me.” He winced at the clinical recounting of their encounters after Romulus’ capture. She’d used him, not just to get rid of her brother, but also to get pregnant. “Still, I didn’t think the situation warranted particular urgency. You were alive; my intention was to try again a few years later. But then you died,” she said, grimacing at the gall of him, to so rudely mess up her plans.
“Then I died,” he repeated, hollow. Use him. They all just fucking used him, claws and sperm and blood, to have whatever the hell they wanted. “Death seems something you wouldn’t want any heir of yours to catch.”
“No need to worry about that. The mother’s genes are stronger.” She nodded to herself. “I was relieved when you came back, Logan,” she continued, apparently set on regaling him with her troubles. “But now we were on a really tight time frame; now I knew you were painfully mortal. And I couldn’t wait for you to get tired of your paramours.”
“My partners,” he snarled, pissed at the mischaracterization, at the flippant way with which she described his life, at the callousness with which she decided his life, just like her brother, exactly like everyone else. “And I won’t ever get tired of them.”
She smiled. “You’re proving my point. I knew as soon as I set eyes on the three of you that your bond was strong and would get too much time to naturally break. I had to take you, and I had to do it fast. And the circumstances allowed for a quid pro quo.” She clenched her jaw. “I do despise the means, Logan,” she added, almost earnest, as if she could even feel such a thing as remorse. “I don’t like doing this.”
“Then don’t,” he snapped. “Let me go. We can talk it out, Remus. We can discuss a… sperm donation.” Like hell he was going to do that, like hell he was going to condemn any child of his to her tender care…
She squeezed his arms so hard he grunted in pain, her long nails dug into his flesh. “I know you won’t, Logan,” she said sweetly. “I know you don’t want to. I see the horrors you’re so adamantly convinced I’d release on my own child.”
Right. She was monitoring his thoughts, she was possibly in his mind; he blamed his poor planning and irrational reactions on that, on her presence, on her unknown powers.
“Then we’re at an impasse, aren’t we?” he tried to say calmly, even though she already knew everything he was thinking. “I won’t do this and you say you won’t force me. How exactly do you think this is going to end?” With your head, he thought viciously, impaled on my claws.
She ignored his taunts. “Oh, you’ll come around. Eventually.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
She let go of him so suddenly that he dropped to the ground. He jumped on his feet, wary, but he knew better than to try anything just now (or she was suggesting he didn’t, her mind enveloping his, sleek and black and viscous, a void). He studied her, her otherworldly eyes, the cruel tilt of her head, the smirk just edging at the corner of her mouth.
She wasn’t human.
“It means I’ll leave you to your lovely cabin and your woods. I’ll come by sometime, we’ll chat, get to know each other. And eventually, you’ll change your mind.” She sounded so sure it would work, he almost pitied her.
“You think I’ll just change my mind if we chat?” he exhaled, incredulous.
“That, or you’ll see reason. Yes.” She crossed her arms, so arrogant in her certainty that he’d submit so easily. “After all, we have all the time in the world.” It felt like a promise, sealing itself in his heart.
His blood run cold. “I’ll just run, Remus. You can’t possibly think a cabin can keep me.” There must be guards, but he couldn’t smell any; there must be at least an electrified fence… she couldn’t be this arrogant.
She hummed. Her smile sickened him. There was something he was missing, uneasiness crawled under his skin. “I’d like to see you try.”
Panic – unmistakable, hysterical, buried deep in his stomach – took hold of him. “My friends will find me.” My family. My partners. My children, God… He’d just found them. He’d just now found them, and she wanted to hold him prisoner until he relented.
She laughed. “They can try. Allow me,” she added almost gently, and she brushed him aside, opened the door.
He rushed outside; she didn’t try to stop him. The cabin sat in a large field, just at the edges of a wood. In the distance he could see a settlement, wooden houses and farther still, mountains – he turned around, his heart in his throat, following the mountain profile; they surrounded him. Was this a valley? A hidden valley, perhaps? But the horizon, there was something wrong with the horizon, strange lights dancing just at the edge of his vision; he looked up, up –
The sight took the wind out of him. He stared, his legs almost giving way under him. It wasn’t possible.
“Where are we?” It couldn’t be. It must have taken centuries to make this… this glorified cage.
Remus came to stand beside him. “I told you. These lands are my home. Well,” she shrugged. “A good approximation. I do own what became of my home, the land above us. Through a good number of proxies, of course.”
He stared at the ceiling. They were underground. It must have taken centuries to dig a cavity this wide, to coat its walls, to make a structure that could stand and not fall upon itself from the weight of the land above. Centuries, and money – a lot of money – to get the necessary material from Wakanda. There must be a money trail… but the X-Men would never know they had to follow it.
“That’s vibranium,” Remus confirmed. He could hear the smug smile in her voice. He couldn’t bear to look. He was trapped. Even if he reached the edge, he couldn’t scratch it. There must be an entrance somewhere, but he doubted it could be opened by brute force. “I just wanted to recreate my home, but it is fortunate that I can hold you here.”
Remus clasped his shoulder. Logan did his best not to shudder, and failed miserably. He was trapped. He wondered why he wasn’t attacking her, why he wasn’t at least attempting to gut her, but that was no question, was it? Every nerve in him screamed, and yet he couldn’t turn against her.
“I don’t want to fight, Logan. I just want you to see reason,” she said almost sensibly. “Give this a go.”
It wasn’t like he could not do as she said. Her interpretation of what counted as ‘forcing people’ was, apparently, very loose. “Yes,” he exhaled. He could say nothing more.
He had to believe that they’d find him. He had to believe that the X-Men would find a way. If the land above was hers, there must be trails. If the land above was her home, if she was born there… Jean would find it in Romulus’ head. She must.
Remus squeezed his shoulder. “I’m afraid not. My dearest brother doesn’t remember our home. He thinks his name really is Romulus, the poor dear. He really committed to the Greek/Roman aesthetic.” She tittered, cold sounds digging deep into Logan’s flesh. “We’re far older than that.”
Logan’s mind was reeling. “You told me that Lupine thing was nonsense.”
“Of course it was.” Remus – hard, mighty Remus, so sure one of the most powerful telepaths on Earth couldn’t dig the relevant information out of her twin’s mind (and wasn’t she right, since Jeannie and Betsy had already tried?), so much more dangerous than her twin, duplicitous, hidden behind the lies and platitudes and sighs she’d treated Logan to, behind her powers that had allowed her to trick him so thoroughly, to control him now – turned him so he could face her. She was smiling. “That doesn’t mean we’re like anything you’ve seen before.”
He made a sound. He didn’t even know what it was; a sort of dismayed cry, maybe. He wasn’t proud of it. He had to believe. He had to believe –
“My poor dear. I knew this would exhaust you.” Remus steered him gently towards the cabin. He let her; or she made him let her. “Rest. Hunt. We’ll talk soon. And whatever you need, you just have to push here.”
She demonstrated, showing him a red button in a corner and delicately pressing it with her heel. Then she put him to bed. He let her, or she made him let her. Only Kurt and ’Ro had the right to maneuver him so. Only Kurt and ’Ro…
Remus squeezed his arm, hard. This time it didn’t hurt quite so much.
“You’ll come around,” she said brightly. His heart fell.
A knock came. With a smile, Remus straightened up. “That’ll be Beaumont. She’ll come when you push the button, and as you saw, she comes fast. Come in, dear,” she called, and the door opened. Remus smiled down at Logan. “I thought you’d like a familiar face.”
A young woman came in, dressed in dark military gear, white hair cropped short. She was albino.
Logan’s heart skipped a beat. She was extensively scarred, and younger, and the coloring was all wrong, but he’d recognize that face and scent anywhere.
The girl looked exactly like Laura.
Notes:
Next: The favorite.
.
[Worried about Logan? Wondering when will the cavalry come? Hating Remus with a burning passion? Let me know what you think, your comments make my day! ^-^ ]
Chapter 46: The favorite.
Notes:
At least the virus allows me to be productive, right? Remember, stay safe, stay home!
Additional Warnings: mention of matricide.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
46.
The telepaths were taking too long.
Laura slid inside Hank’s laboratory and stood for a moment, surveying the situation. All seven telepaths were standing around the unconscious form of Kitsune, their brows knitted in concentration. To the side, Hank and Reed Richards monitored their vitals. Richards had arrived in the late morning, at both Hank’s and his brother-in-law’s request.
They’d been working on Kitsune for hours now. It spoke volumes of Remus’ capabilities, and unease was creeping its way back into Laura.
The previous day the dam had broken as soon as she was out of her brother’s view, and it had taken almost all night for her to calm down, to reassure herself that they’d find Logan soon – she and Jubilee encouraging each other and trying to present a smooth front for Gabby, that was terrified for Logan and also firing frantic, worried questions about ‘the clone of Akihiro’s mum’, whom she obviously felt an affinity for. Laura had faced the morning with a newfound certainty – smiling at Jubilee over Gabby’s and Shogo’s head, Jubilee hesitantly smiling back – but now, seeing the impasse they’d all hoped would have resolved sooner, she couldn’t help feeling completely impotent in front of the threat.
With a sigh she joined her brother and Johnny Storm, who were waiting at some distance from the proceedings. Akihiro was pacing, arms crossed and jaw tight, his eyes never leaving the group. He accepted wordlessly the simple sandwich she’d salvaged for him from the cafeteria and went about nibbling it distractedly.
She handed Johnny another sandwich and the man thanked her profusely; he sat down on the floor and tucked in with ravenous urgency.
Akihiro wasn’t going to acknowledge her past his distracted greeting, so Laura settled beside Johnny.
The man quickly finished the sandwich and let out a groan. “God, I was starving.” He wiped his mouth with the complimentary napkin. “Thank you, Laura,” he repeated.
She nodded. “You haven’t left the room once?” It was part-question and part-statement; she hadn’t seen nor smelt him around the school.
“Of course not,” he said quietly, his gaze on Akihiro’s back, a crease of worry on his forehead. Laura studied her brother, how rigidly he held himself.
That morning he’d looked calmer, somewhat sedated, his agitation having given way overnight to a sort of intense focus. Johnny’s presence had worked, in the sense that it had obviously anchored Akihiro: something for which Laura was deeply grateful. He’d looked well-rested and ready to face anything head-on.
Before beginning their telepathic attempt, Jean had approached him. She’d suggested he should stay away from the laboratory as they worked on Kitsune, and reassured him that he would be notified immediately. Akihiro hadn’t budged, saying quite firmly that Kitsune could, consciously or unconsciously, attempt to defend herself with her Pherokinesis, and that he should be able to counter her attacks and protect the telepaths.
Jean had reluctantly acquiesced. She was obviously worried that all this would push back the progress they’d made, a worry Laura shared… but there was nothing that could be done about it.
Laura hadn’t stayed; itching for action and reassured that Akihiro wasn’t alone, she’d chosen to focus her efforts on the still ongoing ground search, hoping to miraculously find some trail. Lorna had accompanied her; the woman was pale, something obviously on her mind, and it had taken little time to make her talk. It turned out that she felt responsible, in a way, since she’d been the last one to see Logan; and before taking off with Laura she’d apparently gone to confront Akihiro about it. He hadn’t accused her of anything, that would have been irrational, but according to Lorna he’d been cold.
“He’s compartmentalizing,” Laura had told her as they retraced Logan’s steps. “He doesn’t blame you; it probably didn’t even register you were talking.”
“If you say so.” Lorna had fallen quiet, following Laura into the building they thought Logan had disappeared from.
“Neither do I,” Laura had murmured. She’d sensed Lorna stiffen, behind her. “You’re not at fault. We were in an emergency, your attention was needed elsewhere.”
Lorna had sighed. “Yeah. I know.”
They hadn’t found anything in the building, obviously. Remus was thorough, that much was clear. Upon their return, they’d found a contingent of Avengers talking with Pryde.
So Laura had rushed to the laboratory, stopping only in the cafeteria to retrieve something for her brother – knowing already that he couldn’t possibly have left the room if Kitsune wasn’t awake yet.
She was wondering how to disclose the reason that had brought her here when Johnny startled her out of her thoughts. “He’s restless,” he whispered; a precaution that would never work due to their enhanced hearing, and that was unneeded anyway, since Akihiro was distracted.
Laura returned her attention to the man his brother loved. “Is he talking?”
Johnny sniffed. “Yes, he’s responsive,” he reassured her. “He has been telling me to go and eat some food for a while now. And Polaris came over sometime after you left, and Jubilee with Gabby were here, and he’s been pestering Reed and McCoy; and Storm was here too, they talked a little.”
Ororo and Kurt were worried sick; Laura had seen them in the situation room, Ororo standing still and proud with gritted teeth, Kurt perched on a chair, his tail swishing wildly behind him. She’d seen them outside too, locked in a distraught embrace. She’d located Jubilee to do just the same before leaving; Jubilee had clung to her uniform and kissed her with urgency, attempted to extort the promise that Laura would find some trail. Laura could make no such promises, and it was just as well that she hadn’t.
The only trail they could follow was in this room. “Have they re-emerged at all?” she asked, eyeing the telepaths.
Johnny grimaced. “Not yet. Listen -” He trailed off, his gaze running to Akihiro and then back to her, unsure.
“Tell me,” she encouraged him.
Johnny rubbed his eyes. “He’s… terrified that woman really is his mom, and that his mom manipulates pheromones, and what it would mean for him and for Logan,” he murmured.
Laura hissed. Of course – she should have seen it coming.
If Itsu had his powers, and was working for Remus now, and Remus had kidnapped Logan, it stood to reason that one should ask themselves whether her chance encounter with Logan had truly been fortuitous. For someone with her brother’s abandonment issues, history, and mental health, such a question could only do more damage.
And just to add stress to more stress, there was the matter of their guest. “And what did you tell him?”
“That we should wait and see what’s the truth before crossing that bridge. That… she must have wanted him and loved him anyway, because there must have been a reason to wipe her mind.” Johnny dropped his face on his hands. “I didn’t know what to tell him. What if I made it worse?”
Laura studied her brother again, his taut muscles visible under the shirt; he was sporting no reaction to what they were saying, completely focused on Kitsune. He was a man with a mission now, holding himself together until the truth came; and once it did… he wouldn’t be alone. “You did good,” she told Johnny. What Johnny needed to hear. “Listen, what do you know about what happened then?”
“With his mom?” Johnny lowered his hands and raised his head. “She was killed, and… and then that monster took him.” He was green, his nostrils flared, fists clenched tight; he smelt angered, fiercely protective. Akihiro must have been telling him about Romulus. Laura was glad he’d been able to open up about it.
She nodded. “Yes. That… monster,” she said, knowing if she said Romulus’ name Akihiro would hear, still sharply attuned to it for self-preservation, “didn’t kill her personally, but used a brainwashed man to do it. The man shot her and then left. The monster came afterwards, and retrieved him,” she cocked her head towards her brother.
“… Okay,” Johnny said slowly, wondering perhaps why she was telling him now.
“The shooter was Bucky Barnes,” she said quietly. Johnny visibly started. Barnes’ tortured past as the Winter Soldier was public knowledge by now, but Johnny obviously hadn’t known of this bloody thread.
“Oh God, does he know?” he exhaled, his gaze on Akihiro, such fierceness in his eyes that it would assure anyone with lingering doubts of the deep affection he bore for her brother.
“Yes, but -” Laura sighed. “The Avengers came to help. They’re in the school now, and… Barnes is with them.” She risked a glance at Akihiro, but her brother didn’t seem to have heard. She looked back at Johnny, who was staring at her with wide eyes. “I’ll need your help to break the news. I don’t know how he will react.”
The one and only time they’d discussed Barnes, her brother had talked with a hard, clipped voice, merely expounding the facts. He hadn’t elaborated on his feelings on the matter and he certainly hadn’t shared his plans for the man, though Laura had gotten the distinct impression that at some point in the past Akihiro had contemplated revenge.
Johnny nodded, pale. “Yes, of course. When do you think -”
“The sooner, the better.” It wouldn’t do to postpone and have Barnes’ presence take Akihiro by surprise. It wasn’t something that ought to be sprung on him; he’d probably need time to collect himself.
“So, like… now?” Johnny bit his lower lip, his gaze running once again to Akihiro. He didn’t seem convinced; perhaps he wished to spare Akihiro pain, but Laura knew that her brother would perceive the smallest delay as an attempt at secrecy.
“That might be best, yes.” That was what she’d come here to do.
“Okay, I… okay.” Johnny passed his hand over his face and through his hair, a weary motion. He stood up and placed a hand on Akihiro’s arm. Akihiro tilted his head in the man’s direction. “Love? Would you sit down a mo?” Johnny murmured. “Laura needs to tell you something.”
Her brother gave a last, long look at the telepaths at work and then turned, half-eaten sandwich in hand. He saw in Laura’s gaze that it was urgent, because he joined her immediately on the floor. Johnny sat beside Akihiro, a hand running soothing circles on her brother’s arm.
“What is it?” Akihiro’s voice sounded a bit thin, tired. “Did you find something?”
“No.” Laura adjusted her position and moved a bit closer. “But I found… someone when I came back. A few Avengers have come to our aid, they’re with Pryde now. And… Barnes, the Winter Soldier, is among them,” she said quickly, ripping off the band-aid. Akihiro stiffened, his eyes turning terribly cold for a moment. “I came to tell you as soon as I saw him.”
She’d drawn Pryde aside to ask if her brother had been notified, only to see the woman’s confused stare. Obviously Logan had decided not to share that particular information.
Akihiro was clutching at his knees, knuckles white, his hands trembling, the sandwich forgotten in his lap. Johnny was stroking his back. Akihiro leaned against the man with a childish, needy abandon, but the next second he was ramrod straight, visibly seething. “Worried I’ll jump him, sister dear?” he sneered.
Oh, he hadn’t spoken to her like that, with that cruel, distant lilt, in a long while. She knew that he was shutting down and he didn’t really hold this against her, but still, it hurt.
Johnny seemed startled and saddened by the tone, his gaze running worriedly between the two of them, but he never stopped his reassuring motion. “Aki, it’s all right,” he murmured. That Akihiro didn’t snap at the platitude spoke volumes to Laura.
“Worried about you, yes,” she said quietly. “I knew you’d want to know. I didn’t want his presence to startle you. I hadn’t known he’d come here, and if I had, I would have told Pryde to forbid it.”
Akihiro shut his eyes. He was visibly making an effort, attempting to regulate his breathing and rein in his temper. Laura let him do so and in the meantime nodded encouragingly at Johnny, who looked a bit lost. If the man managed to weather this, Laura could trust him with her brother’s sanity.
“I know,” Akihiro said eventually, voice low. “I’m sorry, Laura. Thank you.”
“Don’t mention it.”
With a sigh Akihiro opened his eyes, startling her with the shame visible in their depths. “I took it out on you.”
“It’s all right.” She awkwardly patted his hand; his hold on his knees had weakened.
“He killed her,” he whispered, dejected. Johnny half-embraced him, nuzzled his shoulder.
“I know,” Laura murmured.
“I know he was brainwashed, I know who gave the order, but he’s still the one who killed her.” Taking a shuddering breath, Akihiro caught Johnny’s hand and laced their fingers together. He looked lost, unsure.
“I know,” Laura repeated. “I’m sorry.”
Akihiro nodded. He was staring at her like she had all the answers, but she didn’t. She wished she did, but she was as much in the dark as he was. She longed to help him, but she didn’t know how. He was staring at her, and staring, clutching at Johnny’s hand, his lips parted. “Laura,” he said eventually, haltingly, “If it’s my mother -”
“They’re waking up,” Hank said.
Akihiro sprung to his feet, the issue not forgotten but pushed to the side. He was marinating in uncertainty but he could live with it, or so he thought, because some form of certainty was on its way. Laura grabbed her brother’s abandoned sandwich from the floor, then exchanged a glance with Johnny as they both stood up; in the man’s gaze she saw the same resolve that she felt rushing through her veins.
Johnny reached out and took Akihiro’s hand and squeezed.
Her brother took a step in the direction of the telepaths, of Kitsune, but then he stopped, stock still and wary, almost afraid. The telepaths were stirring, and Laura even felt a stir of her own, at the back of her mind, the place where a piece of the Cuckoos’ sister lay dormant. She reached Akihiro’s side and took his free hand; glancing sideways, she saw his feverish, hungry gaze. It was zeroed in on the figure at the center of the circle. Which was moving.
Akihiro held his breath.
Kitsune woke with a gasp. She tested her bounds with a frown, but she didn’t seem to be trying to free herself, and neither was she manipulating any pheromones. Akihiro stared at her, mesmerized, still as a statue. As if he didn’t dare moving an inch closer, perhaps afraid of what he’d find. Laura squeezed his hand, but got no response.
Hank and Richards approached Kitsune and began running diagnostics. The telepaths gave them some space, Rachel and Betsy keeping close to Kitsune, Frost tapping her fingers near the woman’s feet. The Cuckoos moved as one out of the way.
Jean had eyes only for Akihiro; she assessed everything – his stillness, probably his surface thoughts, his hands linked with Laura and Johnny – and started off towards their waiting trio wearing a warm, kind expression.
When she reached them, Akihiro regained some life and took another step forward. “Is she -” He trailed off.
Jean motioned them outside. “Let’s move this to the corridor,” she said softly.
“No, I -” Akihiro couldn’t stop staring. He couldn’t fathom leaving the room. “Her Pherokinesis,” he attempted.
“She won’t attack us,” Jean assured him. “Please, let’s go outside,” she urged, not unkindly.
He must have finally registered her tone, because he moved, albeit in autopilot, Laura and Johnny with him, his eyes leaving Kitsune only at the last possible moment. Once they were in the corridor and the door was closed, he leant against the wall as if he couldn’t hold himself upright.
“She’s not my mother, is she?” He shut his eyes, his voice an odd mixture of emotion, regret and hurt and relief.
“She’s...” Jean folded her hands in front of her. “We could only dismantle the traps and wake her up. She’s just Kitsune, for now. Her memories start sometime in the late Forties, as an adult,” she recounted firmly, gently. Akihiro held his breath: such information gave new credit to the hypothesis that she was, indeed, Itsu. “The wall hiding her older memories is another thing entirely; we tried, but it’s complex. She agreed to let us try and recover her past -” A brief hesitation. “We think we might need an anchor.”
Like when they’d rescued Akihiro from his own mind. They’d used Laura, and their bond, as an anchor.
“Akihiro?” Jean prompted, still so softly, when he didn’t react past a shaky exhale. “Do you understand what I’m saying?”
“Yes,” he choked out, tight and coiled up. He took a fortifying breath and squeezed Laura’s hand and Johnny’s, and he opened his eyes, and straightened up. “You mean to use me as anchor. Let’s do it.”
Jean shook her head. “Not so fast,” she said in an apologetic tone.
Akihiro’s gaze snapped to her. “What?” he snarled. More than anger, though, there was confusion in his eyes. He couldn’t understand how could Jean possibly think of keeping the truth, and his mother, from him.
Laura understood, though. And, meeting Johnny’s sad, worried gaze, she knew the man did, as well.
Jean spoke slowly and gently. “I want to make sure this doesn’t cause a setback, Akihiro. I want to make sure you’re all right, you can face it, and it’s not too straining. A lot of things happened and you’re justifiably reeling from them.”
“I’m fine,” he protested, but by his grimace he knew no one could possibly believe the lie.
“We’ll see,” Jean said, her tone conceding nothing, showing only infinite compassion.
“She’s right there!” Akihiro exploded. Letting go of both Johnny and Laura, he pushed himself off of the wall and turned to face the laboratory entrance, the closed door hiding Kitsune from him. His features were contorted by longing. “She’s right there,” he repeated, quieter, disbelieving.
Johnny embraced him from behind, rested his hands on Akihiro’s heart. “She’ll still be there, love. It’s going to be all right, okay?” Akihiro clutched at the man’s hands.
Laura ached for her brother, but Jean was right. It would be downright criminal to throw him right at the mind of the stranger with his mother’s face and risk him to witness either the shock of his mother’s death or the disappointment of a stranger’s life. Without properly preparing him, without making sure he would be able to face either.
“Think about her too,” Jean said gently. “She’s just discovered her life was a lie in service of a madwoman. You know how that feels, Akihiro,” she reminded him, as if he needed any reminder. “She needs some time to come to terms with that. And she wants to help us find Logan,” she added, a pang of shamed resignation in her voice. “She wants to deal Remus a blow. And she’s afraid that unlocking her early life would muddle what she knows, and we do agree that’s a possibility -”
“Ah,” Akihiro exhaled, a trace of bitter irony in his voice. “Of course.”
Laura hugged herself. Two instincts warred within her, two twin worries. Protect and support him, and find Logan. She’d have never expected that one would conflict with the other. She didn’t want it. And she saw that Jean felt the same way. The woman could rationalize it, explain it, and to a point she was right in her concern; but the truth of the matter, what Akihiro would perceive anyway, was that the possible reunion with his mother had to be postponed because of Logan.
Would he be able to see past that? Laura wanted to believe it, but she knew it wasn’t that simple. And she couldn’t find it in herself to begrudge him if he chose to wallow in resentment.
This was his mother they were talking about. The doubt must be eating him alive.
Laura knew that feeling. When her mother’s clone had died, the clone she’d believed to be her mother, she’d drowned in anger and grief. Hope had been torn away from her and in that moment she’d hated. She’d never hated anyone, not like that, but she’d hated her brother. She’d almost killed him.
So she understood. She would understand if Akihiro wasn’t happy with this choice. She couldn’t stand behind what would come after it, but she’d understand.
“We have to save my father,” her brother said firmly. Laura felt ashamed at her own surprise at his words. He looked strained, but he wasn’t shying away from what needed to be done. “I understand, Grey. I do.” His grip on Johnny’s hands was strong and he seemed a bit wild, his eyes wide, but he stood his ground.
“I’m glad to hear it, Akihiro,” Jean said. “I’m proud of you.”
“Don’t push it,” he scoffed, attempting to regain some composure. But this had been a big moment. A good moment.
Johnny seemed to be thinking the same, stars dancing in his eyes, a soft smile playing on his lips. He kissed Akihiro’s cheek, nuzzling it; Akihiro leant against the touch, his eyes never leaving Grey.
“Listen,” he began, voice firm again. “I’m guessing Kitsune is going to report soon, or in any case be generically in contact with the search teams.”
“That’s the idea, yes,” Jean confirmed. Laura had an inkling of where this might be going, and she’d stand beside him on the matter.
“I don’t know if you’re aware,” Akihiro continued, “but we’ve been joined by a few other heroes. I don’t know nor care who they are, but there’s one I want off the premises right this moment.”
Jean tilted her head, her eyes glazing some. Akihiro stiffened, perhaps bracing himself for some protest, and Laura met his gaze, managing to convey her support to him. He relaxed infinitesimally.
“Bucky Barnes,” Jean said eventually. Akihiro nodded curtly, his jaw tight.
“I don’t want him to see her and think he can get off with a slap on the wrist,” he almost snarled, voice low. “It’s not just Logan’s forgiveness he needs to beg for.”
Johnny tightened his embrace, attempting to exude all his strength and support. Akihiro received it; he was stiff, yes, but not as much as he would have, had he been alone.
“You want to confront him,” Jean pointed out.
“Of course I want to confront him, Grey, he killed my mother.” The sentence ended in a strangled, pained whisper.
“But not right now,” Jean suggested softly.
Akihiro didn’t answer immediately, shutting his eyes and taking a few strained breaths. When he opened his eyes again, his gaze was clear. “No, not right now. On this we’re in agreement, Grey.”
She just nodded, taking care – Laura thought – not to condescend him in this moment, nor to put too much attention on what had just transpired. It was a mark of how far he’d come, that he was able to think things through objectively and not take off to murder the man. Jean had commended him before and that had been met with defensiveness, so she shouldn’t push now. “We don’t need him here,” she said instead. “I’m telling Kitty. Don’t worry, he’ll leave immediately.”
He exhaled in obvious relief. Laura could have simply told Pryde the same and urged her to throw Barnes out – and perhaps she should have tried – but even then, it would have been only regarded as a suggestion. Jean had the power to make it a reality; Pryde usually listened to the telepath.
Would that the rest of their problems could be resolved so simply and quickly. Logan was still gone, horribly out of reach; Kitsune was here, perhaps a solution… but also, most definitely, salt in a wound that had never healed.
Laura only hoped her brother had grown strong enough. For now he was holding it together, in no small part thanks to Johnny Storm’s soothing, loving presence. The man was a rock, a shining haven of comfort. She was glad they’d finally found each other.
But only time would tell whether that would be enough.
The laboratory door opened; startled, they all turned to face it, but none as sharply as Akihiro, who whirled around, gaze wild. Johnny stumbled and broke the embrace, but managed to keep holding Akihiro’s hand.
Frost stood there in the entrance, surveying them all. She cocked an eyebrow. “Yes, I was waiting for your little war council to end,” she drawled, answering the question everybody was thinking.
Jean sighed. “Emma…”
Frost held up a hand. “I know, dear. Listen, Akihiro,” she turned to address him, her features softening a little, the sight more than a little incongruous. To Laura, Frost would always be, to some degree, the woman that had tormented her with nightmarish visions of her unwitting matricide. To see the woman tread so carefully now felt strange, but like all of them, Frost had changed. “If you feel up to it, Kitsune would like to see you.”
Of course he’d jump at the chance; of course he felt up to it, or he thought he did.
He was almost at the door when Jean expressed the same concern as Laura. “If you were listening,” she told Frost, “you know that we agreed on -”
“… on not throwing him into her mind unprepared, yes, but for God’s sake, Jean, they can talk.” Frost dismissed her with a wave of her hand. She focused exclusively on Akihiro, who seemed to have caught up with Jean’s earlier speech. He was clutching at Johnny’s hand as if his life depended on it. There was a maelstrom on his face, longing and fear visible on his features. He wanted to speak with Kitsune, yes. And he was terrified. “Akihiro, you have here seven telepaths, your sister, and your partner,” Frost said, in a no-nonsense, brisk manner, but not unkindly. “This is the most controlled environment you’ll ever get. If you want to try and discern if you would need a safety net to manage...” She shrugged. “Now would be the safest time.”
After that, there really wasn’t any possible protest, and Akihiro squared his shoulders and made his way inside. Jean kept quiet, although radiating some measure of worry and irritation – she was probably telepathically tearing at Frost – and they all followed.
Kitsune had been freed from the bonds, and sat on the metal bed as Reed and Hank still performed their checkup. She was talking quietly with Rachel and Betsy.
Akihiro moved slowly, hesitant, as if approaching a wild animal – or as if he were the skittish deer gingerly working its way to what could be a threat with no way of knowing.
Then Kitsune raised her head, and saw him, hazel eyes widening. She straightened up. “Akihiro, is it?” Her voice was melodious, deep. The telepaths and scientists around her stopped what they were doing and moved some distance away, to give them space.
Akihiro had frozen in his tracks, held his breath. He let go of Johnny’s hand and gingerly took the few steps between him and Kitsune. “Yes,” he answered, voice strangled. Laura fought the urge to join him and kept herself a few feet behind: he needed to face this at least partially on his own.
She studied him, her head cocked to the side in much the same mannerism as Akihiro. He took a pained breath, standing there under her scrutiny, obviously aching.
Kitsune nodded once, firmly, to herself. “Yes, I see there’s a great deal of resemblance.”
He let out a choked sound. Johnny started towards him, but then he, too, held his place.
Kitsune didn’t move her gaze from Akihiro. “I can’t have children,” she said, with the dignified resignation of one who’d made her peace with it long ago – but there was an aggressive undercurrent, too. Anger. “And now I find out that she took it from me. That she might have hidden a son from me. That you might be my son.” Her fists clenched on her thighs, she leaned forward, her features marred by a fierce longing that rivaled Akihiro’s. “I don’t know if I am, but I think I’d like it, if you were my son.”
Akihiro, who had held himself perfectly still as she talked, exhaled a tremulous breath. “I’d like that too.” His voice shook.
Laura itched to move, but a quick glance at Jean told her she ought to wait; now they had to let this play out.
Kitsune rested her hands on her lap. “And I can’t wait to find out. But you told me that my mis-” She grimaced. “That Remus’ brother used you for years as his weapon, is that correct?” She cocked her head and he merely nodded, dumbfounded. “Then you understand,” she said urgently. “You understand my need for revenge. You understand I have to strike her, to hit her where it hurts, to throw a wrench in her careful, oh, always so meticulous plans.” Her face contorted in an ugly, perfect mimic of Akihiro’s worst moments. “You understand why we have to wait, don’t you? Just for a while?”
She reached out. Akihiro sprung forward and took her hand, holding his breath as he did so, choking out a sob. “Yes. Yes, of course.”
“And it was brought to my attention that her brother, the bastard,” she snarled, “is still alive.” She squeezed Akihiro’s hand. “We’ll kill him together, yes?”
Laura started, and she shared an alarmed glance with all the other occupants of the room – almost all, for Frost and Betsy seemed to find the thirst for blood understandable, and the Cuckoos likely didn’t care. But Johnny looked scared, Jean looked as if she’d expected this, and Laura… Laura’s heart was plummeting to her stomach.
But her brother didn’t seem to notice the change in atmosphere. He was mesmerized, he and Kitsune dead to the world. It was so glaringly obvious that she was his mother that there might not even be the need to check.
They were exactly the same.
And Kitsune would drive him back to years before.
Notes:
Next: Compromises.
.
[Can you believe that we were denied the confrontation of the century when Liu stopped writing Daken’s book? She was obviously laying the foundation for a match with the Winter Soldier.
I’m positive that Akihiro takes his vicious streak from his mom. We don’t know a lot about her, but from her speech that time Logan was hallucinating her, I think we can surmise she was no delicate flower.
If you enjoyed this chapter please consider writing a comment, I always love to hear your thoughts ^-^ ]
Chapter 47: Compromises, Part I.
Notes:
Soooo I spent the last few chapters saying the X-Mansion was in Hyde Park. Which is in London. Ooops. All’s in order now!
This chapter is all over the place; when I began this fic I promised myself I’d avoid massive updates like those I used to make, but evidently I have no self-control ^^” It got so ridiculously long that I ended up unmercifully cutting it in half. This means that there’s an unfortunate cliffhanger – I swear I didn’t do it on purpose! - but never fear, the next update is coming soon. I hope you enjoy!
Remember #StayAtHome
Additional Warnings: suicide mention, ableist comment.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
47.
It was everything Akihiro had ever wanted.
He’d always fantasized about his mother, wondering how she’d look and act if she were still alive. The fantasies ranged from boyish fancies in Sendai, to the delirious aches of his first decades with Romulus, to the frantic rages following the lie that his father had killed his mother, to the bittersweet longing after Romulus’ deception was revealed, after he was gifted a face to picture her. The content of his dreams varied but always, always, there was that childish, abject need to be taken care of – to have her protect him, save him. How often he’d pictured her riding into Akihira’s household to reclaim him! How often he’d sought out to be sent to Japan on a job, with the not-so-secret hope to chance upon her and recognize her by scent! And how often he’d had nightmares about her death at Logan’s hands. How often he’d pictured her by that river from Logan’s memories, hair flowing in the wind, cherry blossoms dancing around her, a firm, serene expression on her face.
How often he’d wondered what she’d say of him. What she’d tell him.
She was in front of him now and all his dreams came true. She was in front of him, and she supported him. She’d offered to kill Romulus together, she and Akihiro. No vague worries over the perils of revenge, no scare tactics, no taking matters into her hands because she didn’t trust him. She just supported him, and she’d be at his side if he wanted to exact bloody vengeance on the man who’d taken him from her, who’d used him, who’d abused him in countless ways.
Already he could picture himself towering over the monster, bathed in the monster’s blood, ancient entrails hanging from his claws, a grimace of unadulterated fear on the monster’s pale face. His mother behind him, urging him forward, congratulating him in on his kill, on the revenge he’d finally exacted. Justice finally dealt.
But did he want to kill Romulus?
Weeks ago he’d pondered that very same question. He’d felt physically ill at the idea, at the mere notion of touching the monster. The rationale was that he didn’t want to pollute himself with Romulus’ presence. But that was probably the trauma talking. And that, in itself, meant he still wasn’t ready to come to any decision.
For now, Romulus was behind bars. And Akihiro had to admit that it was viscerally satisfying to know the monster locked up and unable to free himself, doomed to eternal imprisonment, he that had lived through millennia doing whatever he wanted.
“I don’t want to kill him,” he told his mother, squeezing her hand, oh, so warm and alive. She was here and she’d offered, and that was enough. “For now, at least. Let him rot in jail.”
There was a collective rush of relief all around him, so strong and urgent that he wondered how he had managed to miss the unease that must have preceded it. But it was no wonder, with his senses all sharply focused on the woman in front of him.
The woman who now was frowning, and biting the inside of her cheek, tugging at her hand to rest it back on her lap, her thirst for blood visible in every line of her achingly familiar face. The woman who’d been wronged, all her life a lie, and wanted to understandably leave a trail of bodies in retribution.
The woman who plainly wouldn’t support him if he failed to fall in line with her plans.
Ultimately, the woman who they still couldn’t be sure was his mother. He’d do well to emotionally distance himself from her until they were fucking sure, lest biting disappointment did a number on him. Already her small rejection, that hand pulled away from his, was chafing him raw.
He had to take care of himself.
He had to treat her – to think of her – as Kitsune until there was no doubt that she was his mother. Until her memories came back and she was mended into a single person. If it was his mother, she could even turn out to be different from Kitsune, the missing years providing a different context; she could very well be a different person altogether. He hoped she’d be the type of person who wouldn’t stop supporting him just because he didn’t do as told.
But regardless of her real identity, the trauma of a broken life would still be there, and she’d need time to heal. He thought himself capable of helping her overcome that even if she turned out to be a stranger, for he knew her struggle; but until he knew the truth he had to practice restraint. He couldn’t latch onto her prematurely. Ultimately, it would damage them both.
He was strong. He’d survived countless horrors, and he could face this. It was for his own good.
He took a step back, pushing down his traitorous longing, and thrust his hands in his pockets. Kitsune regarded him with a sort of clinical coldness that struck at his heart despite his better judgment: she was assessing all the micro-changes that he was trying to implement. The angle of his body, slightly held back instead of thrown towards her; his expression must have changed too.
She nodded at him. “I suppose I can’t lay any claim on his fate until we know for sure if I’m your mother.” She, too, was attempting to distance herself from that unknown persona, that past that might change everything she knew about herself.
He rolled on the balls of his feet. She’d read him easily, as if she knew the inner workings of his mind. The bonds of blood, or skill in espionage? “Quite,” he bit out.
She hummed. “And, too, I suppose we would do well to assume we’re strangers until the time comes to ascertain the truth.”
“I’m glad we agree.” Still, this would be easier for her than him, wouldn’t it? She hadn’t spent all her life mourning him and pondering what-should-have-beens. She could simply write him off, no harm to her psyche.
Or would she? There was, he thought he could see, or perhaps it was wishful thinking, a tinge of regret in her eyes when she moved her gaze away from him. “Remus is mine, though.”
Akihiro re-emerged to his surroundings. Kitsune was addressing Summers, who stood some way from them, together with Braddock, McCoy, and Richards, the two scientists perusing their tablets in a vain attempt at pretending they hadn’t been listening in. Summers and Braddock held no such compunction, and they moved closer.
“Absolutely,” Summers said agreeably. “But we’d want to interrogate her, too, if for example we find her and not our missing friend –”
Kitsune waved a hand. “Of course I won’t kill her on the spot,” she scoffed. “She’d deserve far worse than that, anyway. I understand she wronged you too, and perhaps even Akihiro, but she destroyed my life. I want to have a say,” she enunciated clearly, gunning for blood. It was disturbing to watch her, to see so much of himself in her. He surreptitiously took a step back, watching the scene.
It was near to impossible that the sanctimonious X-Men would let her murder Remus; they’d probably want to put the monstress in prison. Akihiro himself would probably have to battle the instinct to gut the woman when they found her, especially if Kitsune’s identity was confirmed.
Braddock, who could lie more easily than Summers, nodded. “You will, of course. But first we have to find her.”
“Very well.” Kitsune apparently accepted at face value the promise. Akihiro wasn’t so sure; oh, they’d obviously take Kitsune’s words into consideration, but depending on the level of blood-lust they’d probably ever do just that.
And what would Akihiro do, when that happened? Whose side would he be on?
It would depend on what truth came out, wouldn’t it? Perhaps Logan would be blood-thirsty too. Perhaps they’d find both him and Remus, and Logan would be shocked upon seeing Kitsune, or maybe upon seeing Akihiro’s mother, depending on whether they’d already ascertained the truth… and the three of them would turn on Remus like wolves. As a family.
But it couldn’t do to daydream so.
He had to take care of himself.
“We’ll start, then,” Kitsune said briskly, “I’ll tell you all I know, all her hideouts...” She made to get up, but the mental ordeal must still be affecting her, because her legs gave way under her. Akihiro was spared from tending to her – he had a feeling he’d collapse too, if he touched her – by Braddock’s telekinesis. Kitsune was put upright and then gently sat down on the metal bed again.
Summers met his gaze. We’ll take care of this, her voice echoed in his head, infinitely compassionate. Akihiro gritted his teeth; it was one thing for the telepath’s mother to do the same, but Grey had earned the right to pester him.
And yet he could appreciate the sentiment. He could certainly appreciate the offer. Yes. Thank you.
Summers cocked her head. I’m sorry, I won’t do that again.
He half-turned. McCoy and Richards were conferring quickly, and then McCoy said that Kitsune should stay abed; he’d send word to Pryde, who’d come down with others, if Kitsune was agreeable?
Kitsune was very agreeable. Akihiro was forgotten, her eyes alight with fury and determination; she insisted to remain seated, though McCoy was recommending she lay down at least, the upper part of the bed raised to prop her up. But she wanted to present herself in a certain way, not to show weakness. Akihiro could relate.
What he couldn’t do was stay in this lab a minute longer. He couldn’t watch her, he couldn’t watch her ignore him, he couldn’t bear for the X-Men to see that, to regard him with ill-concealed pity… like the day before. He just couldn’t.
He spun on his feet to face an easier sight. Frost stood by the Cuckoos, watching the proceedings; the Cuckoos were ignoring everything in favor of glancing every now and then at Laura. Laura was… she smoothed her features into something welcoming and neutral when he turned, but he’d managed to see that look. It was his sister, though, so he could suffer it.
Johnny, however, was an open book… a book written by a miscellanea of writers, a wide array of emotions on his face. Akihiro chased its meaning, studying frantically the paleness of Johnny’s skin, the perspiration, the wild lines of his features, the ever-moving gaze. Worry for Akihiro, yes. Love, always. But that hesitation, that fear –
Fear for Akihiro? Fear regarding Akihiro...?
Nauseous, Akihiro veered towards the exit. There was an exclamation of dismay and Johnny reached him just as he reached the corridor. “Aki!”
Akihiro turned. Laura had stayed inside; she knew when he needed space. She also knew that he knew she’d come when he needed her.
Johnny stood there, a hand outstretched, confused and worried and oh, so caring. But that undercurrent there…
“I like when you shorten it like that,” Akihiro said quietly. Johnny started, taken aback at the non-sequitur. “My name,” Akihiro clarified. “It can mean a lot of things, did you know that?”
“Huh, no.” Johnny shook his head. “Aki, are you -” He trailed off with a wince. “Stupid question.”
“I need some space,” Akihiro said.
“Yeah, sure. Okay.” Johnny wrung his hands. “Babe – Aki...”
“You need to think things through,” Akihiro pointed out. Gently. Johnny started, took a step towards him, a denial already on his tongue. “I have hyper-senses, Johnny,” Akihiro reminded him, because, well, sometimes people tended to forget what that meant. Johnny smelt upset and hugged himself. “It’s all right. I need some space anyway; you can use it to think this through.”
“But I don’t want you to be alone,” Johnny said, quietly, but subdued. He wasn’t denying it. How could he?
You need a session? Grey’s voice echoed in his mind, she choosing that moment to make herself known. She hadn’t moved towards him as he reeled in the lab and pondered what to do, but she’d obviously been monitoring him closely ever since he’d begun talking with Kitsune.
No. I need to take a walk in the park and think. I don’t want to talk.
That’s fair, Akihiro. Do I have your permission to continue checking your surface thoughts?
… Yes.
Johnny was still watching him, worry and love etched in his beautiful features. “Grey’s with me,” Akihiro reassured him, pointing at his head. “I’ll be fine.”
Johnny capitulated, dejected. “Yeah. All right. Just… take this, though? Please?” he fished in his pocket and handed him his phone, Akihiro’s own destroyed the night before. Akihiro would have to get another.
For now he accepted Johnny’s phone, their fingers brushing, Johnny smiling faintly but with an edge of uncertainty.
Akihiro had to get out of here.
He set out. He managed to avoid the small contingent coming down the stairs towards the lab – Pryde, Rogue, and Drake, together with the rest of the Fantastic Four, Barton, and Spider-Man – and reached the school lawn.
He stood at the top of the stairs, a hand on the banister to hold himself upright, and took deep gulps of air.
It was just too much. Too much. Logan was gone, in the hands of Romulus’ twin, a psychopath who could be doing anything – anything – to him. Logan was tough, Logan had been through hell too, but Remus was Romulus’ blood. She had thousands of years behind her, vicious monstrous years. Logan didn’t stand a chance.
Kitsune was…
No. Kitsune had to remain Kitsune in his mind until they retrieved her memories. She had to. He pushed her aside, his thoughts turning to Johnny.
Oh, Johnny.
Akihiro had known this would happen. He’d accounted for it, he’d even told Johnny, but then Johnny had reassured him and stupidly, foolishly, Akihiro had allowed himself to think the issue resolved. To convince himself that his past, his murderous instincts, wouldn’t be a problem for Johnny.
He should have fucking known.
And could he, in all honesty, blame a hero for getting cold feet over it? Could he blame Johnny for ‘deceiving’ him, for not trying hard enough, when he knew that Johnny had tried, that Johnny seemed to love him?
But love was not enough. It wasn’t, and it shouldn’t be. Akihiro wasn’t right for Johnny. He’d tried, God, he’d hoped he could be, but he wasn’t.
Don’t cross that bridge yet. Grey’s voice, calm and reassuring. Akihiro took a shuddering breath.
“- right? Hey, are you all right?” came a young voice from his left: the pitch, the slightly hysterical one of a kid who has repeated himself for a while already and is frantically looking for an adult to take care of the madman having a breakdown, a madman who had stabbed himself in the head in full view of a gaggle of children not so long ago.
But the lawn was deserted of adults, every X-Men in the situation room, and only the younger students roamed unattended.
Akihiro pushed himself off of the barrister and faced the young, pimply boy who’d braved the lunatic hyperventilating in the entrance. “Never been better,” he managed, though the kid was distinctly not impressed and studied him with a wary look.
For fuck’s sake.
Akihiro dodged the boy and rushed down the stairs and towards the gate, the other kids giving him a wide berth. When he reached the park proper, though, a few of them started closing in on him with determined, worried glances, so he gave off a wave of warning pheromones. “Don’t come after me!”
He broke to a run, needing to move, to get away from the crowd of well-meaning idiots, to not think.
Central Park was devoid of people, everyone probably holed up at home, still scared after the attack of the previous night; New Yorkers were used to being the target of supervillains every other day, but this last one had been concerted chaos and many might be wondering if it was over.
That suited Akihiro well.
He could do whatever he wanted, roam the park at large with no care over who heard or saw him. He could scream.
And scream he did. He didn’t know when he began, he only knew that at some point he was aware that the cacophony in his mind was ringing in his ears as well; that his throat was sore and he’d stopped running, he was just… hurling everything at the sky. One time, when they’d discussed the abuse he’d suffered at Romulus’ hands, Grey had told him that shouting one’s pain away could be therapeutic; he’d even attempted to indulge her right then, but he’d felt ridiculous, standing there in that urban office with the sofa and the pillows, and the soft carpet beneath his bare feet. Grey hadn’t suggested it again.
His voice died out. He fell to his knees, struggling for air, his throat aching; grasping at the soil, tearing at the grass, yanking and yanking chunks of dirt away –
“Hell, the mayor’s gonna want our head if you keep that up!”
Akihiro swung wildly, Lorna hovering in the air some feet above him. She was after him, like every fucking single one of them, as if he was a ticking time-bomb. Couldn’t they leave him in peace?
Ah, and she was seeking redemption too. Earlier that day she’d been sprouting nonsense about abandoning Logan to his fate; he’d ignored her. It seemed she still hadn’t got the memo that he wasn’t that irrational anymore.
“Get lost, Lorna.”
“That’s not very nice.” She stayed where she was. “Look, I understand you’re having a moment, but some students were saying you were running around and screaming. I just volunteered to check.”
He felt oddly touched, but buried that nonsense with irritation. “Great, you checked; as you can see, I’m fine.”
She raised an eyebrow.
Yes: running around, screaming, and digging the ground. All the marks of a sane person.
He conceded the point with a sigh. “All right, I’m not fine. But Grey’s checking my surface thoughts, ready to intervene if I do anything drastic, so do get lost, Lorna. I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Well, we don’t have to talk about anything.” Lorna shrugged. “I can just sit there and keep you company. You can scream at me, if you want.” She grinned.
Akihiro saw red. “I don’t have to hold your hand while you work your way through another far-fetched, useless apology,” he hissed. “I don’t have to make you feel better. This is about me. I’m taking care of me. And I don’t want… I don’t have the energy to keep up with your million neuroses too, okay?”
Lorna flew a few meters back, pale. Then she stood her ground, ramrod straight, a woman with a mission. “Yeah, I deserved that. But look… I know I fucked up this morning. This isn’t about me trying to make amends, I got your message loud and clear.” She grimaced. “But I’m your friend and I got my fair share of violent breakdowns in my life. I know how fucking exhausting it is to have everyone crowd you and ask you how you’re feeling.” She sighed. “And… I also know how exhausting it is to be pestered when you just want to be alone. I only wanted to make sure that was really what you wanted, and offer an alternative. I’ll go.”
She turned and made to leave, making true on her word. Perhaps that was what got through to him, or perhaps her words struck a chord; perhaps he hadn’t truly wanted to be alone, he’d just wanted to avoid all confrontation.
Akihiro called out to her. “Okay, okay. Come down.”
Wordlessly, Lorna approached him and landed, although she kept some distance.
He sat back on his hunches, wiping his hands on the grass, and studied her fully for the first time since her arrival: she was in civilian clothing, a massive green shoulder bag resting on her hip. She’d abandoned the search to come support him. “Sorry about that.” He grimaced.
“What, that bit about my million neuroses? Yeah, you were an ass.” She carefully placed the bag on the ground, then sat down cross-legged. “Classic deflection, though. You don’t want to hear some things I’ve been known to say.”
“If you have some choice words for me too, come at me, Dane.”
“God, no, I don’t want to make you cry.” She grinned. And something… melted within him, the easy banter a welcome diversion.
She didn’t ask him anything, didn’t comment further on what she’d found him doing, nor on his disheveled and disgraceful attire. She didn’t mention what had happened the night before, what was happening as they spoke. She didn’t ask what had been the straw to break the camel’s back. She just sat there and fired a thousand inane, ridiculous remarks that he met in kind. And it was good. It felt good to just ignore everything for the time being, to have someone look at him and not see a glass doll. He even felt Grey recede from his mind, a sign that she shared his conviction that he was feeling at least somewhat better.
At some point Lorna was gesturing animatedly, recounting a space adventure, and her elbow brushed against the green bag, that clanged suspiciously. He eyed it.
“What’s in there?”
She smiled like a shark. “I’m glad you finally asked.” The madwoman then proceeded to empty its contents on the grass with the air of a grand conspirator. It was a picnic for a small army: a mango salad and canapés and rolled omelettes bursting with prosciutto -
“I stress-cook,” she only half-lied, and he stared at her.
“You’re a lunatic.”
“Look who’s talking.”
But it was the rest that took the cake. A wide array of nail polish bottles, base coats and top coats.
“Let me guess, you stress-manicure too.”
“No, but this morning I noticed your black nails were all chipped.” She brandished a bottle of Ella + Mila, eyeing them critically; he glanced down and sure enough, she was right. It must have happened the previous night; he hadn’t even noticed. He recalled the fire in the restaurant, his frantic cries for Johnny, and slammed it all at the edge of his mind.
He snatched the nail polish remover out of her hand. “What colors do you have?”
She didn’t remark on the crack in his voice. “Boy, what colors don’t I have.” She lined the bottles on the grass so he could peruse them. “Wait, I have wipes too, you’re covered in dirt, it’s fucking disgusting. Don’t touch anything.”
So it was that they ended up having a goddamn girls night in the park, eating – she was a passable cook and he hadn’t had anything since breakfast – and trying out different colors. They didn’t do each other’s nails, that would have veered into the scenario he’d taunted Drake with weeks ago, and Akihiro was half-dreading she’d spring sudden secrets on him, or for the situation to turn against him and into an interrogation, but Lorna wasn’t like that. She kept changing her mind and put on a frankly disturbing number of colors, almost emptying the remover, before settling on a shade of green only slightly lighter than her usual.
“What can I say, I’m committed to the aesthetic.” She shrugged, jokingly tossing her hair over her shoulder.
He was tempted to do the same and just go black again, but a text notification coming from his pocket startled him so badly that his hand went flying to the purple selection. And he thought, to hell with it.
Carefully not thinking about the text and what it could mean, he uncorked the brightest, most obscenely garish hue he could find. Lorna stared, wide-eyed. “I’m not sure it works with your complexion.”
“Fuck off.” The text could be from anyone; most probably, one of Johnny’s friends. But it could be Laura with news about Logan or Kitsune. Or Johnny, telling him…
He didn’t want to know.
“Well, you’re going to take it off anyway,” Lorna said sensibly as he began applying it.
“No, I’m keeping it.”
“Akihiro, that’s fluo. Your whole wardrobe clashes with it!”
“Maybe I want to commit to a new aesthetic.”
“Oh my god.”
He ignored her gaping and, when he was finished, checked critically his work. “I have vests that could work with this.”
“Oh my god.”
“Shut up or I’ll paint tiny ace flags on each nail, Lorna.” She went all wide-eyed, and he stiffened.
Right. She didn’t know; and it brought Johnny to his mind again. Johnny, who’d committed so readily, uncaring of what it could mean for their intimacy. Lack of sex didn’t scare him, but murder did.
As it should be. At least he hadn’t slipped away because of Akihiro’s newfound orientation. That would have killed Akihiro.
Lorna was still looking straight at him. “I’m asexual,” she offered, softly.
He hadn’t known. He pushed down his knowledge of her numerous liaisons – he knew from experience that it didn’t mean anything – and carefully stopped up the bottle. “I think I am too.”
They fell silent. He wondered how different it could have been if he’d known sooner. He could have talked about it with her. He could talk with her now; he’d certainly have more free time from there on. No Johnny anymore. And she knew how it felt…
A gust of wind coming from the school made him look in that direction; the Fantastic Fours’ MK III was heading out. He stared after it as it flew away; from this position, he couldn’t see who was on it, but now the phone rested heavily in his pocket, a certainty with it.
Johnny was gone. He’d left.
He’d left without even saying goodbye.
Notes:
Next: Compromises, Part II.
.
[Please don’t hate me ^^” The chapter really was too long. I know it’s difficult to read an onslaught of words and not be overwhelmed. And these chapters are packed; Akihiro’s a mess. Who knows if Lorna will make him see reason? :P
I’d love to hear your thoughts ^-^ Was there a scene you liked the most? Let me know in a comment!]
Chapter 48: Compromises, Part II.
Notes:
I know you’re all dying to know what happens, so without further ado, I present to you the second half!
Remember #StayAtHome and #StaySafe
Additional Warnings: discussion about sexual agency; sexual scene that goes from “It wasn’t a soft kiss; it was hard, demanding, desperate” to “Johnny looked uncertain”.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
48.
Johnny had left.
He’d gotten scared, terrified of Akihiro, and he’d left. He hadn’t even told him anything, he’d just sent him a text and run for the hills –
No, no, Johnny wasn’t like that. He was terribly good, he wouldn’t leave a breakup to a hurried text. And this was Johnny’s phone anyway, he wouldn’t leave without it…
His heart in his throat, Akihiro grabbed the phone, heedless of the still wet varnish.
The latest text, the one that had startled him earlier, came from Ben Grimm’s number and said: ‘It’s Johnny. I’m in the cafeteria. I thought things through. Come when you’re ready, I’ll wait.”
So he hadn’t left. No, he wanted to do this the hard way. The right way.
Akihiro shook, fingers trembling on the screen, picturing scenarios in his head. Johnny would say he was very sorry but he had made a mistake and he couldn’t love a murderer, and Akihiro would try and make him stay, because he was enamored and clingy and he needed Johnny like air, and he’d… he’d try his damnedest best to make Johnny stay. He’d offer sex. He’d be all over Johnny and Johnny would ultimately capitulate, they’d fuck, but in the end Johnny would still leave. And he’d be fucking better off if he left, he could live a normal life…
Akihiro didn’t want to do that. He didn’t want to be like that, he didn’t want to, hell, kind of force himself like that, but he knew that he could be – that he would always be, deep down – manipulative like that. Because of his upbringing. Because of his damn fucking life.
A hand on his. He looked up, wary, Lorna quietly studying him. “I know this is a no-questions-asked date, but you’re freaking out there,” she murmured. “Is it about Logan?”
He burst out laughing, feeling the hysteria mounting. “Yes, I should be worrying about that, right? There are things happening, far more important things. I should be lending my expertise to the search. I should be worrying about that lookalike in there, that woman I can’t even look at,” but he couldn’t, he couldn’t, and so he was left pondering what was left, what a fool he’d been, what a mess he’d always be. At least it was a distraction, at least it allowed him not to wallow on his broken family, on what he was terrified could be happening to Logan, on what Kitsune’s existence could mean.
He ended up telling Lorna everything. It was all jumbled, so cliché, a broken-hearted tale. Johnny’s face, so horrified at the side of Akihiro he’d seen in McCoy’s lab. His text, he must be leaving Akihiro, the lengths Akihiro had just contemplated he’d go to in order to make him stay, the certainty that he didn’t want to be like that but he needed Johnny, oh, he needed him –
“I’m gonna stop you right there.” Lorna clasped his shoulders and he fell quiet. She held an earnest, serious gaze. “Johnny loves you,” she enunciated, “It’s pretty clear to anyone with eyes. It’s kind of embarrassing, really.”
“Yes,” he agreed, his heart clenching painfully, “and he realized he loves a murderer -”
“Let me talk.” She shushed him imperiously. “He’s one of the most loyal and clingy guys I know, and he wouldn’t give you up without a fight. He wouldn’t renounce you without first trying to make it work.”
“We were trying,” he pointed out. “Evidently, he decided that it wasn’t worth -”
“Oh my god, listen to yourself!” She shook him hard. “He hasn’t told you anything, it’s just you talking yourself into the worst case scenario! You decided that’s what he means to do and you’re going full-on defensive mode, which I do understand, shit, I tend to make up the worst in my head, but you need to breathe and remember that he didn’t say anything yet. It’s all -”
“It’s all in my head?” he snapped, but… she had a point. Johnny hadn’t said anything, Akihiro had done everything on his own. Johnny had smelt and looked a certain way and Akihiro had drawn conclusions. Which… he shouldn’t do. Communication was the most important thing. Hell, Grey had brought it up enough times. He shouldn’t make assumptions; he should ask.
“Yeah,” Lorna said softly, sensing he was giving her words some thought. “And honestly, you’re deflecting. You understandably don’t want to think about the shit-show that’s going on, so you… made up another problem to latch onto, one that feels more present. One you feel you have more control over.”
He groaned at the probably accurate and frankly disturbing picture she was painting. “Fuck, Lorna, when did you earn your degree?”
Distantly, he wondered if he should go to Grey about all this. But Lorna was making sense and Grey was occupied with Kitsune; she’d drop everything in a heartbeat to attend to him, there was a plethora of telepaths working right now and she could be spared…
But hadn’t she constantly been telling him that he should learn to rely on his friends?
“I have a feeling you aren’t talking about my Geophysics degree.” Lorna grinned, cocking her head. “I’m just repeating what my therapist says when I work myself into a state. Is it working?”
“Maybe.” He looked away. There was no denying that Johnny had something on his mind and had thought some things through, because that was what his text said; but Akihiro should wait to hear it. “He still said to go when I’m ready,” he added, morose.
“Shit, if you were looking anything like you’re looking right now, then he’s just being considerate and giving you time to cool off. You did tell him you needed to stay alone, no?”
“… yes.”
“See!” she said brightly. Then she sobered. “Look, he could say anything, by all means ready yourself, but don’t… don’t burn that bridge before you come to it, okay?”
He deflated. He should listen to her. He’d had his share of burnt bridges, bridges he’d destroyed himself, beyond repair… and he didn’t want to do that. He wanted to do better. To do better by himself, and by Johnny.
He nodded.
“Great! And that leads us to that sex thing.” She made a face.
He winced. He should have known; with what he’d just told her about himself, it was normal she’d want to dive right in. “If you’re about to tell me it’s unhealthy, I know that.”
“It’s a real shitty way to deal with a breakup,” she said seriously. “Believe me, I made that mistake enough times. I’ve made a lot of mistakes about sex, really, because I thought it was just the done thing, you know? And if I just did it, then I got to keep who I wanted. That’s fucked up. Relationships are difficult enough to navigate as it is, but this makes it harder.” She let go of him to wrap her arms around her legs. “You didn’t realize until recently, right? That you’re asexual,” she said, delicately, carefully.
They were entering dangerous, frightening territory. “… very recently, yes.” He mimicked her posture.
She hummed. “Yeah, I figured. That shit’s internalized. It’s going to take a lot of work to unravel everything, to really get that you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do.”
“… I don’t want to lose Johnny.”
“And that’s okay.” She rested her chin on her knees. “Shit, that’s fucking understandable. But don’t force yourself to conform to this shit, you’re going to resent him eventually and believe me, that’s worse. You said you two are making it work, right? That you talk everything out. Don’t… don’t ruin it. He knows already and he committed… and that shit would hurt, in the long run. It would certainly hurt you, and it would hurt him too, and it would be a horrible way to end it. If it comes to it, if he wanted to leave you, eventually, I’m sure it’s not happening today, but as a general advice… don’t go for that. You said you don’t want to be like that, try not to be. I know it’s hard, but it’s the way to go.”
Try not to be like that . It was the crux of the matter, wasn’t it? He didn’t want to be. But it was who he’d been taught to be, bit by bloody bit. It was what his mind instantly jumped to at the first sight of conflict. Hell, even the previous night. He hadn’t almost jerked off Johnny because he’d wanted to; he’d just coldly deemed it a reward.
“I am trying, but it’s a bit more complicated than it would normally be,” he heard himself say, his voice coming as if from far away. He almost short-circuited, what was he doing, he couldn’t dump that on Lorna, he barely knew her – then his mind protested that he’d known Grey for far less time – but Grey was a professional – and Lorna was his friend, and she was listening, she’d talked him down, she was saying sensible things, she was his friend. “I was trained to use sex as a bartering chip since I was a boy.”
She went utterly still, the borders of her irises turning green. He could feel the power in the air, a biting burnt scent. Then she exhaled and she said slowly, carefully: “By the monster who brought you up. Remus’ brother.”
He appreciated her avoiding to say Romulus’ name. It wasn’t that it set him off, like he thought a few people believed; but he preferred not to be caught off guard. “Yes.”
He could tell that she wanted to explode and scream bloody murder; he could tell that she was furious on his behalf. He could tell she was of half a mind to go pay Romulus a visit and strangle him with the bars of his cell.
But she knew not to make this about anything other than him. She reached out, caught his hands. “Thanks for telling me, Akihiro. I know that took a lot of courage.”
He shrugged, feeling self-conscious. He didn’t regret telling her, but it was strange, to have it out there; to know that now she’d second-guess anything she said from now on, tip-toeing around any topic that might be perceived as too sensitive. Then:
“You’re amazing,” she snarled fiercely, giving him whiplash. “You’re a force of nature. You’ll overcome everything that bastard did, and you’ll get the hang of everything, and you’ll be fucking fabulous. The most balanced ace in history. You’ll end up giving me tips.”
… No, of course Lorna wasn’t the type to tip-toe around anything. He should have known.
He found himself smiling. “Thanks for the vote of confidence.”
“Shit, of course.” She squeezed his hands. “And if you do decide to murder the fuck out of that thing, you can count on me.”
He felt his smile fall. Not because he still didn’t know what to do with Romulus; but because he thought back, once again, on Kitsune’s words, and on Johnny’s reaction.
“Listen, Johnny’s fucking savage when he wants to be,” Lorna said quietly, correctly surmising what had brought about Akihiro’s change in demeanor. “Does he know about this?”
“Yes. I told him.” His voice gave out.
“Then I wouldn’t worry about him getting cold feet about you killing people, Akihiro. If I know him, he wants to burn the bastard alive himself.”
It was possible, of course. A scenario that his pessimistic mind had gleefully ignored in favor of another, more apocalyptic, possible future. But it could also be just wishful thinking.
But ultimately… he had to know. He couldn’t stay in this state of not knowing, torturing himself; he had to face whatever Johnny would say.
And then he had to focus on what was happening out there. He couldn’t use this as crutch.
She nodded to herself; she’d seen the grim resolution overcome his features. “You ready to talk to him?”
“Yes.”
She walked him to the school. She lamented the fact that his nails were a disgrace again in spite of all her hard work, which was obvious given he’d ended up paying no attention to their proper care; and she handed him the bottle of fluorescent purple nail polish, which he pocketed. When they reached the school lawn, it was empty.
It was dinnertime, and the cafeteria was swarmed with teenagers and a few adults; but there was no sign of the group that had headed to McCoy’s lab, nor of the telepaths, so they must still be working on Kitsune’s intel. Jimmy was finally back, though, sitting by himself and stabbing his food with a murderous expression, so he must have found nothing.
All in all, it wasn’t the perfect location for the conversation Akihiro was about to have.
Johnny’s sight, when he caught it, took the wind out of him. Johnny had secured a single table at the far end of the room, in a reasonably secluded corner, but even then, Akihiro didn’t feel comfortable with staying there, surrounded by people. He looked around, saw Laura eating with Jubilee and Gabby, and his sister sighed in clear relief when she saw him. He waved weakly before returning his attention to Johnny.
Johnny had spotted him. He was all lit up, his eyes ablaze, sitting straight and welcoming and warm, gesturing him over. He didn’t look grim, or remorseful. Perhaps… perhaps it really was going to be all right.
“You’ve got this,” Lorna said. He turned to face her, and she gave him a thumbs-up. “Remember what I told you. It’s going to be all right.”
“Yes. I -” He felt a lump in his throat. “Thank you, Lorna.”
“Oh my god, don’t go all mushy on me.” She punched his arm. “Go, don’t make him wait.”
He went.
Johnny stood up when Akihiro reached him. “Hey,” he said softly, and Akihiro allowed himself to hope.
“Hey.” God, he could lose himself in Johnny’s eyes.
“You want to go somewhere else? I didn’t think it would be this crowded.” Johnny blushed. Of course he would notice Akihiro’s unease; he’d been staring right at him as he made his way to the table, and he knew Akihiro.
“That would be best, yes.”
“Okay. We could take something to eat and go outside?”
“I ate with Lorna.” Akihiro recalled how Johnny has stayed with him all morning, well past lunchtime, obviously hungry but adamantly refusing to leave him on his own. He wasn’t the type of man who did all that and then turned around and left. “You can bring something with, I don’t mind.”
“Oh, that’s good.” Johnny smiled. “I was worried you wouldn’t eat. We can go then, I actually ate something earlier.”
They made their way outside. It was shaping up to be a beautiful evening, warm and clear, a few stars already visible. Akihiro led them to his usual bench, surrounded by bushes, a small secluded haven that he still used to protect himself from time to time.
The silence was unnerving him; he could tell that Johnny was working up to something, but he didn’t smell upset.
He smelt certain.
Akihiro sat down, but Johnny stood there in front of him, looking at him with something in his eyes that made Akihiro’s breath stutter. They were, oh, so bright. He bent and caught Akihiro’s hands and held them between his, and Akihiro was having trouble thinking straight. He was having trouble doing anything but staring up at Johnny’s blue, blue eyes.
“Aki can mean a lot of things,” Johnny said softly, squeezing Akihiro’s hands. “Autumn, and bright, and gentle, and hope, and brave, and refined, and sparkle, and a lot of other things, it depends on how it’s written.”
He’d gone and checked after Akihiro’s remark. He’d made a mess of internet sources, from the look of it, but all the same, it made Akihiro’s heart swell.
“I like that it can mean gentle, and brave. You’re gentle and brave. You’re the bravest person I know,” Johnny continued, oh, still so softly. Akihiro shook his head, astonished.
“I’m really not.”
“But you are,” Johnny murmured. “You went through hell, Aki, and you survived. And you’re facing this hell now, and you keep going. You’re so brave.” He raised their hands, kissed Akihiro’s fingers. Akihiro felt his heart float and ache, ache so much. “And you care so much. Okay, maybe you’re not ‘gentle’ in the sense you’re thinking, but you’re kind, Aki, you feel so deeply. And I love you for that.” He kept kissing Akihiro’s hands, and Akihiro could only stare, overcome by the softness and the love effused by Johnny’s features.
Johnny loved him. Yes, he knew, he knew, of course he knew, but to hear it confirmed, to feel the surety of that feeling in Johnny’s pulse as he said it…
“I love you too,” he exhaled, overwhelmed, and because of that, because of that… shouldn’t he let Johnny go? Let him live without having to face the judgment of his peers, without having to grapple with Akihiro’s morality?
No, he had to trust Johnny, stop making things up in his head. He had to let Johnny talk. And if he ended up telling Akihiro that yes, he did love him, but he couldn’t overlook Akihiro’s mistakes… that would be all right. Akihiro could face it. He could face it without destroying everything.
Johnny looked radiant, standing there before him. So resolute.
“You were right, earlier,” he began, finally touching on the topic that had sent Akihiro spiraling. Akihiro braced himself, nodded so that Johnny could continue. “I did get scared. You… Aki, for a moment, a very long moment, you looked like you were going to go on a murdering rampage. Like nothing else would ever matter to you again, nothing. And I know… I know you’re not like that. I got scared you’d lose yourself.”
A worry Akihiro himself had shared. And yet, he had to set the record straight – because he was, indeed, ‘like that’. “Johnny, I am a murderer. I have killed people. I know that’s what you just realized.” Johnny was shaking his head, but Akihiro plunged on. “And… and if you find you can’t live with that, that’s… that’s all right,” he forced himself to say. “I understand.”
“God, no!” Johnny looked so shocked, so adamantly sure, and it gave Akihiro pause. “I know who you are.” Johnny said fiercely. “I know what you’ve done. And I don’t care, Aki. Because I know you now. I know you’re struggling to be better. I know you are so different already, and I know you wouldn’t kill without reason. And I’m okay with that.”
It was monumental, what he was saying. It went so wildly against everything Akihiro knew Johnny was, and yet he was saying it with a straight face, with blazing certainty.
“Johnny,” he said haltingly, “are you sure?”
“I trust you.” Johnny stated, simple as that. Miraculous, extraordinary like that. “I got scared, yes. But you proved me wrong. You thought it out. I thought, too,” he added, his grip tight, his eyes ablaze. “You were right that I needed to. And I realized that if you did decide to kill that monster, I’d stand right beside you,” he offered, sending Akihiro’s heartbeat into a frenzied gallop. “Because I know you would do what’s right. I know you wouldn’t let hate consume you. You wouldn’t lose yourself, I’d be right there to help you stay yourself. I know, because I love you. I… Aki. I’m in love with you,” he exhaled, with exalted reverence.
What a thing to say. He didn’t love Akihiro, he was in love with Akihiro. It went deeper. It went where Akihiro ached to go, where he wasn’t sure he ever could. Where he was still terrified he couldn’t be able to, not after what had been done to him.
And oh, what this love was doing to them.
If Akihiro hadn’t made so painstakingly sure that no pheromones were involved, he would have taken Johnny’s speech as irrefutable proof that he was influencing Johnny, that all his terrors from their early days were true.
But this wasn’t what was happening. No, they were just changing each other, as couples were wont to do. They were fundamentally modifying the fabric of the other’s being. Johnny made him want to put his murdering days behind, and Akihiro… he made Johnny willing to go beyond, to follow that viciousness that Lorna had referred to and that Akihiro himself had seen; to follow that viciousness where it could bring him.
And because Akihiro loved Johnny, he couldn’t let Johnny let go of his humanity because of him.
“You don’t have to say it back,” Johnny murmured gently, dropping to his knees in front of him. He brought their joined hands to his chest. “I know. But do you understand, Aki? Do you understand what I’m saying? It’s all right.”
It wasn’t, not like this. But Akihiro would fix it.
“I love you because you’re kind,” he choked out, bending down, resting his forehead against Johnny’s – basking in his presence, his scent. “You’re true, and real. Life has hurt you too, so much, but you don’t let that change who you are. And I’ll be damned if I change that, Johnny. If I let you stand by while I kill. I could never let you mar yourself so. I could never ask that of you.”
Johnny’s eyes were wide. “No, it’s okay -”
Akihiro extricated his hands from Johnny’s hold, grasped Johnny’s head – needing to impart how important this was. He kept his pheromones in check, suppressing them furiously, afraid of unwittingly releasing them and influencing Johnny in his urgency to make him see. “Please don’t ever offer,” he enunciated clearly, he begged. “Don’t ever make me do that to you, I couldn’t bear it.”
Perhaps he should end it, but they were way past that. They were different people; they were bound.
He’d do his damnedest best to protect Johnny.
Johnny covered Akihiro’s hands with his, staring up at him, fire in his eyes. “Okay,” he reassured him, and he smelt truthful. “I won’t. I promise. But all the rest I said, Aki. Don’t make me take it back, because I won’t.”
God, Akihiro would protect this man with his life.
They surged towards each other like comets colliding, their mouths meeting and parting in a frenzy, Johnny tugging at Akihiro’s hands, then yanking Akihiro’s shirt, pulling him closer.
It wasn’t a soft kiss; it was hard, demanding, desperate, heavy with the weight of all they’d said. It was a promise. It was the truth, it was a resolution, their bodies pressed together, Akihiro’s legs spread to accommodate Johnny – Johnny, growing hard against him, then putting his hands between them, a steady and immediate barrier, pushing away at Akihiro’s waist: Akihiro adored him for that.
He adored him for everything. He devoured Johnny’s mouth, got swallowed in return, swallowed whole, heated and frantic and burning bright.
And when Johnny, by chance, perhaps his legs giving way, lowered himself just so, and he gasped and keened and shoved back Akihiro, arching, a hand braced against the bench, the other splayed on Akihiro’s chest, knuckles white, panting: “Aki – I can’t -”
When Akihiro saw how entrancingly beautiful Johnny looked under the pale stars, his features contorted with naked need and so much love, he knew that this, he could do. That it didn’t involve him in any way and yet he still wanted to be there, to see Johnny lose himself.
So he covered Johnny’s hand with his, pressed close to his heart. “It’s all right. Go on.”
Johnny lost it, oh, he cried out and bucked his hips, desperately chasing the friction that his jeans and the position allowed. Akihiro sat back, away, mesmerized by Johnny’s face, and laced their fingers together, wanted to be there for Johnny. He closed his legs, encasing Johnny, and the contact, he knew, he smelt, he felt, that simple contact was driving Johnny wild, his pupils wide and fixed on Akihiro’s, transfixed.
Beautiful. So beautiful.
Akihiro bent closer, and cupped Johnny’s jaw, breathed in Johnny’s frantic cries, held Johnny’s gaze. “I’m here, Johnny.”
Johnny whimpered. He leant into the touch, fingers grasping for purchase against Akihiro’s chest, and he let go of the bench, shoving his hand down, pressing hard against himself.
Afterwards, when he was limp and sated, a shin of sweat on his forehead, his damp hair lovingly pushed back by Akihiro’s caresses – Akihiro’s chest inflated like a balloon, overcome with tenderness – Johnny’s hand gave a stutter against Akihiro’s chest, and he retreated it to his lap, looking up at Akihiro with clear, remorseful eyes. “God, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean -”
“No harm done.” Akihiro brushed his lips against Johnny’s, gently. Perhaps this was how they could navigate it, how they could face the moments when Johnny needed to relieve himself. They hadn’t talked beforehand, perhaps they should have, but it had felt so undeniably right. He hadn’t felt forced in any way; he’d done exactly what he’d wanted to do. He’d witnessed something precious, and stood guard. “I wanted to.”
Johnny looked uncertain. “You sure?”
“I’m sure. Come here.” Akihiro hoisted him on the bench, and Johnny curled up against him, an arm thrown around Akihiro’s stomach, his face tucked against the crook of Akihiro’s neck, and Akihiro felt they could stay like this forever. He kept raking Johnny’s hair, overwhelmed. Johnny lay sleepy and contented, melted against him, and he loved Akihiro, and Akihiro loved him. That was enough. That gave Akihiro strength. That would help him overcome anything.
Johnny yawned loudly. God, he must be exhausted; he hadn’t slept nearly enough the previous night, and then he’d stood all day with Akihiro.
Akihiro kissed his temple. “You want to go sleep in my room?”
Johnny stirred, dazed, blinking fast. “Oh. About that.” He propped himself up, looking seriously at Akihiro from beneath his eyelashes. “Yesterday we didn’t really talk it through, I said I’d stay but we didn’t decide on the specifics.”
Akihiro nodded. “… You need to leave?”
“Absolutely not. Only if you don’t want me here, that is.”
“Of course I want you here.”
“Okay.” Johnny nuzzled Akihiro’s cheek. “So, I spoke with the others, and with… Spider-Man.” A slight hesitation there; of course, Johnny knew the man’s secret identity, and had to check himself. “He’s going to take my place in the group for a while. I’ll stay at least until we find Logan.”
Akihiro stiffened. But it was time to face this too. “You think it will take so long that you need to have a stand-in?” What had happened after Akihiro had left McCoy’s lab?
Johnny winced. “I hope not. But it’s going to take a while to check every place Kitsune said.” He said the name with graceful care, mindful not to set Akihiro off. “She was still listing off safe-houses and such when I left. And even then, we should… we should act on the assumption that Remus will have accounted for the possibility of Kitsune turning her back on her, right? So she could be -” he trailed off, not wanting to say it.
“She could be gone, and Logan with her,” Akihiro helped him. “Yes.”
Johnny nodded, his expression grim. He hadn’t wanted to be the bearer of bad news, he hadn’t wanted to hurt Akihiro.
“So you asked Spider-Man,” Akihiro prompted, wanting to change the topic.
Johnny looked a bit relieved. “Yeah. He did it before, remember, when I -”
“When you died. Yes.” Akihiro’s heart gave a jolt. Just like that, he remembered all his pain of those months when Johnny was dead; all the agony of the night before.
And they’d bared so much already, and it felt like adding even more weight to an already heavy conversation, but he had to take it off his chest now.
“I got scared, yesterday,” he confessed quietly. “When the restaurant exploded around you.”
“Yeah, I noticed.” Johnny caught Akihiro’s hand, squeezed it. “I’m used to sudden fires,” he reminded him, gently, carefully.
Akihiro shook his head. “It wasn’t… it wasn’t rational. You died already once and it killed me, and when I saw that, when I saw the flames, I couldn’t breathe. Johnny, for all intents and purposes, I’m immortal compared to you. I know I’ll live longer than you. And it scares me.”
Johnny embraced him. “I get that. God, I was so scared when I thought you had died. I get that, Aki. But we can’t – we can’t live in fear. We can only go on, bit by bit, day by day.”
Bit by bit, day by day.
Yes. Perhaps they should; perhaps Johnny was right. Live, and take what they could. Knowing that what they had was enough.
Akihiro held on to Johnny, and looked up at the starry night, and hoped.
Notes:
Next: The Cave.
.
[These boys will be the death of me. Had I already said that? I feel like I already said that ^^"
Let me know what you think! Was there a moment you liked the most? Leave me a comment if you want ^-^ ]
Chapter 49: The Cave.
Chapter Text
49.
Logan tried to leave, obviously.
Remus kept her word, and left him alone after that first day; and once she was gone, the fog addling Logan’s mind dissipated, and he could think straight again. He tried to interrogate the girl, Beaumont, but she stood stoically, and it was clear she knew nothing of importance. She lived in the small settlement that lay at some distance from the cabin, and Logan had the distinct impression that was the only place she’d ever known. She must have been cloned and then brought there for the exact purpose of keeping Logan company.
Or rather, to keep him in check.
Killing her would accomplish nothing save give Logan nightmares, and Remus must have counted on that.
So he set out, and explored the area. He hunt and slept outside, unwilling to stay a minute longer in that ridiculous cell she’d created for him.
The Cave, as he took to call it, wasn’t as large as he’d thought when he first saw it, made dizzy by Remus’ power; but it was still large and high enough, and he confirmed his first impression that it must have taken many years to create this space. Remus had had to calculate exactly how much to excavate so that the structure wouldn’t collapse on itself, and then she’d filled it with earth, and trees, and animals, making the space completely self-sufficient. There must be air ducts too, leading outside, but they would be too high for him to reach.
The mountains, he realized when he reached the perimeter, weren’t real. They were just rock, arranged to give that impression. Somewhere in their folds must be the exit, but he was having trouble finding it.
And if he did, he could bet his ass on it being only opened by a retinal or hand scan, or an alphanumeric sequence, or, hell, even all three of them, just for the kick of it.
Remus was letting him explore, perhaps amusing herself by watching him. He was sure that she was indeed watching him sometimes, hidden in the trees, because sometimes he felt it, that strange absence of a presence, and he had to fend off shudders. He’d tried to find her at night, hoping to ambush her as she slept, but he had yet to spot her.
This was, after all, her domain.
She’d trapped him effectively, and his only hope to leave was to be rescued.
He doubted that she’d covered all her bases. There must be something she’d forgotten, some trail leading to her. And his friends, his family, would find it. He was sure of it. He would see Kurt and ‘Ro again, he would kiss and embrace them again, he would lose himself in them; and he would see his children again, Laura and Akihiro and Jimmy and Gabby too.
In the meantime, he could make himself useful and at least get to know the terrain, so he spent his days roaming and cataloging everything in the Cave. He was also methodically scrutinizing every inch of the fake mountains, hoping to get to the exit, which, if Remus hadn’t lied, must be – or lead to – an elevator going straight to the surface. Even if he couldn’t open it, he could watch out for anyone possibly coming out of it, and ambush them.
He’d covered more or less half of the ground when the weather turned impossibly cold.
It seeped into his bones, cutting him hard. He tried to keep going, to ignore his chattering teeth and his bluish skin and the drowsiness, but it was a show of power, and a call to heel. Remus could obviously control the temperature in the Cave.
And she wanted him back to the cabin.
It was the only place that would be insulated enough, and there was a fireplace too, its image a mirage for his stuttering mind. For almost a day, or so he thought, he set out to ignore her and kill a large animal to wrap himself in its corpse, but the game was, suddenly, impossible to find, every single aspect of life in here controlled by Remus.
So he went.
Gritting his teeth, horribly slowly, he went. Once or twice he pondered sweet death, but he’d just awake again, the problem unresolved, still there.
When he reached the clearing, he saw Beaumont gathering wood, wrapped up in a heavy winter coat lined with fur. He craved it, and he could even see himself killing her for it, just to avoid caving and obeying Remus’ wishes like a dog, but then she turned to silently study his approach, her face an inscrutable oval visible even from this distance, her face just like Laura’s, and he couldn’t.
Damn Remus. Damn her to hell.
He went. The door of the cabin rattled when he tried to open it, his hands so cold that he couldn’t move his fingers properly. He was about to unsheathe his claws to shred the wood – and that would hurt like hell – but then it was opened from inside, blessed warmth inundating him. He was grabbed, and dragged inside, and the door was closed.
He had eyes only for the fire crackling in the fireplace, groans escaping his mouth as he fell to his knees, his hands tended towards it, sensitivity returning to his fingers. He wasn’t past dragging himself closer, but he was spared that indignation when a strong, sure hand caught him again, by the scruff of his neck, and dropped him unceremoniously, exactly in front of the fire.
As warmth returned to his limbs, shivers of pleasure running through him, he felt the absence. It had always been there, obviously, Remus had always been there, she was who had brought him in; but now his senses were working.
And with that, his rage.
He turned with a snarl, ready to stab her and finish it there and then, but his resolve melted into nothing, all the fight gone from him.
Remus sat in the massive chair, her arms rested on the armrests with all the disdainful regality of a queen, her hair kept in a long braid. In yet another show of power, she wore light clothing, ill-suited for the cold she’d brought upon them. He hated her. Oh, how he hated her.
She was smiling – a fixed grimace of a smile. “I hope you’ve amused yourself enough, dear?”
He couldn’t even lash out. “You said I was free to go around. You said I could hunt.”
She leaned forward, her hands gripping the armrests. “I made this hovel for you, Logan,” she spat. “You can go around all you want, you can try to find the exit for as long as you want, I see you need to keep your mind occupied with menial tasks; but you will come back here. You will treat this place as a home, or you won’t ever see your so called ‘partners’ again,” she sneered.
Ah, he’d offended her. He relished the thought, but the goal was still to survive this insanity and get to his real home.
“Sure, Remus. As you say.” He went to rummage in the chest at the feet of the bed, found a winter coat he recalled to have seen the first day, and put it on with sharp, furious movements. God, he hated her.
“Oh come now, don’t throw a prissy fit. I don’t think I’m being unreasonable here.”
He turned away from her. “I beg to differ.”
A rustle of clothes. “Well, you know how to end this. Give me a daughter.”
A daughter. She hadn’t specified she wanted a certain sex, earlier. “You want a female heir?” he asked, curious. More information was always welcome.
“Men are weak,” she sentenced, clear revulsion in her voice. Then she sighed. “But I’m not picky. I’ll take what you get me.”
How magnanimous. “My answer’s still no.”
“Then you’ll stay here, in this lovely cabin.” Remus’ voice was closer; she’d vacated the chair to stand behind him. The hair at the back of his neck rose. “And you’ll do me the favor of availing yourself of poor Beaumont. I brought her here specifically for you. She could be out in the world, advancing my affairs, but she’s stuck here. Babysitting a ghost. And it’s insulting, Logan. She’s magnificent.”
He felt the danger, the irritation in her, but words were the only thing she was leaving him. The only thing he could strike her with. “She’s just a copy. The original’s better.” It felt unfair to poor Gabby, but she’d understand. If he got out of here and told her, of course.
“Oh, but I’ve enhanced her,” Remus said, rapturous. “She’s beyond compare.”
“Beyond compare, huh? I thought you already had a favorite. Kitsune, right?” Silence. Feeling on the right track, he taunted: “Something happened to her?”
Remus cuffed him, so hard he lost balance. He caught the bed to hold himself upright. She was staring down at him, towering over him, her features contorted with rage. “You will not speak of her,” she growled.
Primal fear took a hold of him. Perhaps it was her, instilling it in him, but every instinct in him was screaming to let the matter go.
He could still prod, though. “Look, you seem to have a gaggle of agents. You can train one of them to be your heir, no? It doesn’t have to be your blood. Look at Romulus -” It sickened Logan, to say this; he knew what Romulus had done in his frantic search for an heir. But he’d be damned if he let her have her way.
“Romulus,” she spat. “His little experiments were a disgrace. No, you won’t get off the hook this easily, Logan. You think I haven’t thought about it? But no one’s good enough. Oh, they’re good, they’re splendid, but not exactly how I want them. My heir must be excellent. And certainly not a washed-up clone.” Her lips curled in disgust.
So ‘magnificent’ and ‘beyond compare’, but not quite good enough, it seemed. If Remus’ idea of training was similar to Romulus’, making her pupils feel indebted to her and relying on her goodwill… perhaps Logan could use this slip, and try to turn Beaumont against her mistress. He’d have to give it a try.
He hoped Remus hadn’t sensed that thought. But she was vibrating with contempt, perhaps distracted enough to overlook it; he just had to keep her talking. “Then why bother cloning my daughter?”
“Me?” She laughed, looking almost startled into real amusement. “Oh my. No, Logan, I didn’t clone your daughter; I just collected poor Beaumont when she was about to be misplaced. I do despise an unnecessary waste.”
He leaned forward, interested despite himself. He could use this, too. “Misplaced?” Did this mean there were other clones of Laura, running around? “Who made her?”
Remus waved a hand. “She’s just from a batch of clones a company made. A few died, four escaped. Your daughter killed one, and another sacrificed herself. Beaumont had a few misadventures of her own before getting herself arrested; I got her before they put her in prison. And the last one… well, you know her.” She shrugged. “Young Gabrielle.”
Gabrielle. Gabby? Was Remus talking about Alchemax? “Laura didn’t tell me anything about it.”
She should have, right? A missing clone was important information. But when she’d explained about Gabby, she had made no mention, no mention at all, of this fourth clone. Beaumont. No, in fact, Laura had said there had been three -
“No, she couldn’t, could she?” Remus said, amiably, smiling down at him, sadistically waiting for the penny to drop. He stared at her, horrified, finally comprehending.
“You mind-wiped my daughter?” And Gabby, and anyone knowing about this fourth clone –
“That’s a strong word.” Remus cocked her head, looking thoughtful. “I didn’t ‘mind-wipe’ young Laura, or she’d have no idea of who she is… like Beaumont. No, I just selected all memories regarding Beaumont and rewrote the gaps. It’s quite basic work, really.” She smiled, all teeth.
God. God.
“Oh. And I should tell you that Beaumont’s programmed to ignore any attempt at turning her against me.” She reached out, patted his cheek. “You can try, of course, that’s bound to be entertaining.”
She’d heard him, then. And she’d just turned the girl from possible collateral damage to someone he needed to protect. To bring home to Laura, and to Gabby.
Damn her. Damn Remus to fucking hell.
“I must say, Logan,” Remus said with a sigh, turning away from him. Giving her back to him, comfortable in the knowledge he wouldn’t – couldn’t – strike her. “I hadn’t thought you so close-minded. You could leave soon, but you’re just so set on this misconception of yours. I wouldn’t mistreat a daughter of mine – or a son, for that matter.”
She sat back on the chair and rested an elbow on the armrest, her chin propped on her hand, lazily regarding him. Then she grinned.
“Or perhaps you don’t want to cheat on your delightful partners?” she sneered. He hated how the word sounded on her tongue, so lurid, full of malice and contempt. “We can just arrange a sperm donation, as you so dutifully offered the other day. Although this sudden coyness escapes me, Logan. You’ve never been the kind of man to shy away from a good, mindless fuck. And it was good with me, remember?”
God. He remembered all too well. Remus was a beautiful woman, there was no denying it. And if it was all there was to it, if it was his life on the line, sure, he might have gone for it. Neither Kurt nor ’Ro would begrudge him for anything he had to do to come back to them.
But she was a monster. Any attraction he’d felt for her was gone, wiped away by his knowledge of her deeds. And he’d be damned if he left any son or daughter of his in the hands of Romulus’ twin; he knew how well that could go.
She shook her head. “What Romulus did – to you, to your son, to countless others… those are not my methods.” He could almost believe her, when she spoke like that. As if she could feel real remorse for what her brother had done; for what she herself was doing. But he looked at her, and he only saw a threat and a liar.
She made a sound of annoyance.
“We’re still talking about my blood. Even if I were in the habit of torturing my people, I wouldn’t torture my child.” She drummed her fingers on the armrest, plainly irritated.
He shrugged. “Perhaps. Or perhaps you’d lose your patience. Training is nasty business. All the in-house heirs I’ve met are a piece of work.” He crossed his arms, considering her stance, her words. She was just calmly explaining, as if they were discussing hypotheticals. “Are you trying to make me see reason, Remus? Trying to convince me?”
She’d said that was the plan; she’d made no mystery of it, saying she counted on him agreeing, with time. And perhaps he could see himself caving after years of imprisonment, or perhaps she finally deciding to force the matter… but certainly not so soon. Not while he still had hope to be rescued.
“I told you, Logan.” She sighed, resting her back against the chair. “Help is not coming.”
“You don’t know us,” he snapped. “You don’t know the X-Men. My friends. My family. They’ll find me. They’ll find a way to find me.”
“You’re not going to let this go, are you? You’ll just keep being difficult, on the assumption that you’re just holding down the fort. You’ll keep doing it unless I crush that hope to the ground.” She spoke slowly, pondering every word, seemingly trying to decide on something. And it could be a ruse, but every hair on him rose. “I’d hoped to use this as last resort, but needs must, I suppose.”
He stared as she stood, as she paced the room. This was all a ploy. Whatever came next out of her mouth, it was lies designed to crush his spirits. He had to cling to that truth. Whatever she said.
“They are looking for you,” Remus said eventually, coming to stand directly in front of him, forcing him to crane his neck to see her, to watch her, because he had to look for any sign of deception – his heart missing a beat at the information that his family was on his tracks. “They’re being busy little monkeys, going from place to place, following trails. They’re thorough; but I was more thorough.”
“You’ll have missed something,” he choked out, although pointing it out could make her reconsider, make her erase her traces better. “And they will find it.”
“No, Logan.” Remus shook her head, almost apologetic. “You didn’t find anything when you were just looking for me; what makes you think they would find anything now that they're looking for you? They would still be running around if I hadn’t lent them a little hand, you know? I simply had to lead them on a merry chase; you know, to keep them occupied. They’re operating on what I gave them, Logan.”
No, she was lying; she must be. And even if she wasn’t… the X-Men would eventually realize they were being fed information. They were smart. They were the best.
“Smart, yes. They’re not bad, for monkeys.” Remus cocked her head. “But I’ve given them something too good. I’ve given them a source they can’t distrust, because it’s real. Everything they’re finding is true, only confirming that the source is good, that they only have to push harder, that the next place will have all the answers.”
Lies. Lies. They’d check. Whatever source she’d given them, they’d check. After weeks of nothing, suddenly finding information would reek at least some.
“If it was intel, yes. Maybe.” She resumed her slow, leisured walk. He watched, wary, his mind reeling. “But a person, flesh and blood? A poor victim? They’d eat that up. They have eaten that up. Your X-Men have always been predictable, in that regard.”
Logan’s blood run cold. “A mole. You put a fucking mole in my school?”
“Not a mole, no.” She seemed almost to be trying to hide her face from him. He thought it was because she was bullshitting him and hoping he wouldn’t notice, but then he saw; and a vein pulsing in a gritted jaw wasn’t a sign of lying. It was a sign of anger. “An unwitting decoy. She’s not mine anymore. I severed all links. She’s angry, and she hates me.” Her vein jumped. “It had to be real. It had to pass your little telepaths’ scrutiny.”
“So you… what, gave up an agent?” he pushed. “And she’s feeding them info. But they’d have to doubt it, at least a little. Even if it’s real, they’d have to know that by now you know they have her, at least, and would surmise that you’d rush and cover your bases,” he said aloud, trying to finding the faults in her logic, to point out that there was something she hadn’t accounted for. God, fucking scrambling to prove her wrong.
She turned. Her face was ugly, viscerally upset, her features contorted, but there was this glint, this fucking savage surety, in them.
“Weren’t you listening? I control the search. I give them the next target, and the next one, and the one after that. Round and round and round they’ll go,” she said, enunciating clearly, taunting him. “To my tune. I have everything lined up, Logan, I can direct them for decades. And eventually, some years down the line, their efforts will trickle down. They’ll be exhausted, uncertain, apathetic. They’ll start to get on with their lives. Only a few will keep going, but then even they will begin to forget you.” She raised a hand, three fingers raised. “Your partners will split up, or perhaps they’ll cling to each other, mourning your absence, looking for you in themselves.” She lowered a finger. “Your daughter will don your cowl, as she did when you died, honoring you by hunting down criminals in your name.” She lowered another finger. “And your son, oh. The only wild card. The one who’d take it personally, his father being abducted by the sister of the monster who took him. He’d have never stopped looking, desperate to snatch you from the unknown horrors I would certainly bestow upon you.”
She gave a sharp, wild laugh, a trace of unhinged bitterness in it. Logan stared, his heart dropped to his stomach. She was different like this – uncivilized. Ancient. Unpredictable.
He could picture what she was describing. He couldn’t begrudge his friends for losing hope after years. He couldn’t begrudge Kurt and ’Ro for seeking comfort in each other. He couldn’t begrudge Laura for trying and live her life, she was so young.
He had a hard time picturing Akihiro hellishly bent on finding him, given all they’d been through, but perhaps she was right. Perhaps finally finding each other meant that Akihiro felt that strongly about him, and certainly the notion that he was being held prisoner by Romulus’ twin would haunt him, countless helpless nights wondering what was being done to Logan – as Logan had hardly slept ever since discovering Akihiro’s existence, not resting until he’d found him.
Perhaps Akihiro would be the one to rescue him.
Remus stopped laughing. “No, Logan. Little Akira will content himself with the gift I sent him.”
Logan lost the ability to breathe.
Akira. He hadn’t thought that name in – hell, years. He hadn’t dared, fearful to blurt it at Akihiro at the most inappropriate time, Akihiro so adamant that he wanted to keep using the name his adoptive father had given him.
Akira. The name that Logan and Itsu had decided to give their child. A good name, good for boys and girls alike. Itsu had wanted to be practical.
Akira, a name Remus couldn’t possibly know.
“Such a fortuitous find!” Remus said gleefully, her arms spread, that horrendous smile on her face. “Hidden away in that little valley. Romulus salivated when he realized you’d impregnated a mutant with powers similar to ours, Logan. He coveted the fruit of that union. A child with your healing factor and hyper-senses, and its mother’s pheromones. Good enough, he thought; a decent surrogate in the absence of a way for us to procreate. No telepathy, but nothing’s perfect.”
No, it wasn’t possible. Remus was just taunting him, spreading lies. Tormenting him. It wasn’t possible, he’d have known.
“But he discarded your wife, and I always so despised an unnecessary waste.” She cocked her head, the dark pools of her eyes reflecting the flames in the fireplace. Logan couldn’t breathe. “And she’d given me the key, too, for her little misadventure made me see that you were the solution to my problems; one could say I simply had to try and recover her, don’t you think?”
Logan wailed. “Itsu,” he choked out. “You have her? She’s alive?”
“Logan, do keep up.” She waved a hand. “She’s my agent, my little decoy, driving your friends from false trail to false trail. She’s my way to keep your son occupied. He’ll make it his life’s mission to try and recover her memories that oh, just can’t seem to come back; he’ll stop worrying about you soon enough.”
It wasn’t Itsu. It couldn’t possibly, possibly, be Itsu. Itsu didn’t have powers, he’d have noticed. Remus was lying.
Wait, did this mean that Remus and Romulus manipulated pheromones? No, it was all a lie, he shouldn’t trust this information, he shouldn’t trust a word coming out of Remus’ mouth…
Remus dropped her hands on his shoulders. They weighed like boulders. “So, you see, you’ll be here for long. Unless you give me what I ask, of course. Then I’ll let you go. I’ll even throw in a boon, unlock her memories for you. Would you like that?” She sneered. “Your partners won’t like it, perhaps.”
No. No, no, no. Lies, lies, lies.
“Lies?” she snarled. “No, Logan. The most brilliant servant I’ve had in centuries was right by my side, and I had to give her up to get you here.”
She squeezed, hard, and he could see the rage now, the regret he’d identified earlier. The ill-concealed fury. Whatever the truth, she’d lost something she treasured. Perhaps she was lying, but perhaps not, and Akihiro… Akihiro would certainly cling to it, lie or not.
Itsu. God, Itsu. Itsu, alive.
“You didn’t come cheap. The least you can do is giving me her worth back,” Remus said coldly. “I haven’t asked anything unreasonable. I haven’t forced you. I have even left a gift waiting for you. Think about what I could have done instead.”
She let go of him. He fell to his knees, shocked, overwhelmed, horrified.
Utterly unable to move, staring at her bare feet.
“No one’s coming for you. Think about it, Logan. And decide. Decide soon.”
She turned, and left.
Left him with the world turned upside down.
Notes:
Next: Impasse.
.
[Yes, Beaumont is Bellona. Remus loves to give new implausible codenames. I just find very suspicious that Bellona was never mentioned in Tamaki’s X-23 despite all that focus on the Sisters. Instead, it was always about Zelda.
So, you got confirmation that Kitsune is Itsu! I never wanted to drag this for long, it was never meant to be a big mystery ^^”
Was there a moment you liked the most? Let me know in a comment ^-^ I’d love to hear your thoughts!]
Chapter 50: Impasse.
Notes:
We’re reaching the endgame! Some of you might have noticed that there’s a fixed number of chapters now; it could still fluctuate because I’m terribly verbose, but we’re closing in, I promise.
No Additional Warnings.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
50.
It was a fool’s errand.
Laura saw the grimaces, the glances. Every step they made was a bet, running against time, taking them farther away from Logan.
There was intel, yes. Kitsune was a positive trove of intel, with a score to settle besides. She led them all around the world, pointing at places. Sometimes, they even found evidence which led elsewhere… but it all led to nothing.
Every final location, a dead end. Every single one.
One by one, the heroes of the world were retreating from the active search. Saying they’d keep an eye out, pursue other leads. Some plainly didn’t trust Kitsune, and so wanted to look in other directions from the ones the woman indicated.
But the X-Men kept following her intel, because they knew she could be trusted. With all telepaths having worked on her, it was impossible that she was leading them astray – or rather, that she was doing so knowingly.
The truth of the matter was simple: as they’d feared, Remus had realized Kitsune was gone from her grasp, and so had gone and deleted her trails.
And she’d done so very efficiently. Even, one could say, too much.
A working theory – Ororo had expounded it first, during an explosive meeting, tensions running high, her patience running thin, Kurt silent and pale at her side – was that every trail was cold because Remus had wanted it that way. That Remus had knowingly dropped Kitsune on them, getting rid of her, counting on them to take her in and rely on what she knew, in short to feed them information. They’d agreed that the likelihood was high – and after all, some of them had taken into account such a possibility early on, Laura amongst them – but even then, it was still the best lead they had. Remus must have forgotten to wipe away something, somewhere. She’d had little time to plan, to account for everything. She must have been sloppy somewhere.
They had to believe that; for better or worse, Kitsune was the only lead they had, because they could follow no other trail. Cerebro was unable to locate either Remus or Logan; and Romulus was painfully ignorant of his sister’s whereabouts and general affairs. The telepaths had interrogated the monster again, to no avail; although at least the visit had allowed them to rule out that Kitsune descended from the twins, as she’d apparently been told by Remus. A simple DNA test had sufficed to quench Akihiro’s fear… and to enrage Kitsune.
The woman was getting restless, frustrated. She hadn’t taken well to Ororo’s suggestion either. Words had flown, knives had almost been drawn. Frost – who was staying at the school, at least for now, and had taken charge of Kitsune’s psychological well-being – had tried to rein the woman in, reminding her that they had discussed that possibility; Kitsune hadn’t taken well to this breach of trust regarding the content of their conversations, and Ororo’s exasperated “See!” had only exacerbated the situation.
That meeting had come to an abrupt halt, de-escalating fast, when Akihiro had slammed his hands into a table. He’d been vitriolic, saying that Ororo should take a page from Kurt’s book and shove her insecurities away. As if Ororo was expressing doubts only because Kitsune might be Itsu, as if Ororo was jealous of what would happen when Logan came back.
He’d realized exactly what he’d implied a moment later; he’d blanched, turned, and fled, Johnny going after him.
That slip of the tongue had sobered up the whole meeting. Afterwards, Laura had seen Ororo and Kurt approach Kitsune, an apologetic grimace on Ororo’s face. Matters of the heart were the last thing on anyone’s mind; they all just wanted to get Logan back.
And they all recognized that, even if Kitsune really was a decoy, she was still the best bet. She’d served Remus for decades, seen so many places; one of them, at least one, Remus must have forgot about.
At least one.
Laura was more worried about Akihiro. He and Kitsune were avoiding each eother, never talking even when they came upon each other. On one memorable occasion they’d ended up on the same team headed to one of Remus’ old base of operations, and they hadn’t worked well together; or rather, they hadn’t worked together at all. If it had been anything other than a reconnaissance mission into an empty place, their lack of communication could have caused the team to encounter problems.
Jean had reprimanded Pryde harshly for the lapse in judgment in allowing the mix-up – if Jean had realized sooner she’d have pulled in Akihiro, but it was the first hectic days, teams going left and right to cover more ground – and Pryde had begrudgingly agreed, vetoing that pairing from then on.
Kitsune was taking to heart their agreement in Hank’s lab, acting as if Akihiro was a stranger, even if Laura caught her longingly looking at him sometimes; the woman was even suppressing her scent, so as not to remind him or, possibly, not to startle him.
And Akihiro was clearly pushing everything down, giving his all to the search in a vain effort not to confront what was right in front of him.
Laura had tried to talk to him about it; he’d shrugged it off, reassuring her that he was working on it with Jean.
And Laura should respect that. She was glad of it; gone were the days when she was his only confidante, pulling upon herself the weight of all his problems. Now he had his therapy, and Johnny… and Lorna too, the two of them thick as thieves lately. He didn’t want to weigh on Laura, preferring to talk about inconsequential things when they met, or to play with Gabby, or to distract Jubilee.
The only thing he discussed frankly with Laura was Logan’s fate, for that worried her too, and they could comfort each other.
He was terrified. Laura was horribly worried, wondering what could be happening to Logan; but Akihiro was skittish, a bundle of nerves. The fact that they knew next to nothing about Remus, and nothing at all about Remus’ intentions for Logan, didn’t help. Sure, Kitsune had reported – her lips curled in a snarl, her anger and betrayal clear as always – that her ex-mistress valued hard work and never mistreated her servants, and that the punishments bestowed upon those who made mistakes were mere downgrading of rank and esteem.
But Remus was still Romulus’ blood. And Akihiro had first-hand, horrific experience of the monster. Truth be told, it did nothing good for Laura’s nerves to see the horror on Akihiro’s face and imagine blood-curdling experiments done to Logan as they fruitlessly looked for him.
And Remus had mind-wiped Kitsune. That alone was proof that Remus was monstrous enough. Had she rewritten Logan’s mind? Was he working for her even now, unaware of his identity, of the people looking for him? Or was he held prisoner, experimented on? Had he lost hope that he’d be found?
Laura was trying to hold on; for herself, and for Jubilee, who was frantic and inconsolable, furiously throwing herself at any team leaving for anywhere.
Today, though, there was a lull in the search, some logistics being worked out, intel found at the latest places being analyzed; lately, these lulls had been coming more and more. So everyone was trying to wind down, or at least acting like it.
Laura was having a play-date with Jubilee, Gabby, and Shogo; later they’d go out alone – although they’d probably have a quiet evening in – leaving Shogo to Starsmore and Gabby to Old Logan. Akihiro was spending some time with Johnny that night, so he regrettably couldn’t look after Gabby. But he and Lorna had taken her shopping that morning, and Gabby was sporting a new flannel skirt.
It was jarring to act like everything was normal, to have these small moments… but it was for their sanity’s sake.
It was a beautiful day, so they were having a small picnic outside the school premises, in the park proper. They’d eaten, and now Gabby was playing with Shogo, making faces at him; and Jubilee had rested her head in Laura’s lap, and Laura was carding her fingers through Jubilee’s hair, Jubilee closing her eyes in as much contentedness as she could feel right now.
And it was good. It felt good, to be here, to do this; it helped Laura feel more grounded, to keep her faith, to reassure herself that this uncertainty, this fear – it would all end soon. They’d find Logan.
Her peace was disrupted by a shiver at the far end of her mind; by now she was accustomed to this sign of the Cuckoos’ presence near her, so she shrugged it off. The trio, who’d elected to stay for the search too, had taken to stare at her from afar, but so far had yet to approach her and Gabby and apologize for what had happened with Esme.
But they weren’t staying away now. No, Laura realized as the shiver grew in intensity, as their scents came sharper and closer; they were approaching.
“Gabby,” she said quietly, to warn her sister; she didn’t want her to be startled. Gabby looked away from Shogo, her tongue still trying to reach the tip of her nose.
“Mwhat?”
Laura cocked her head in the Cuckoos’ direction. Gabby’s breath hitched, and she returned Shogo to Jubilee, who sat up and shielded her eyes from the sun to take a good look.
“You want me to scare them away?” Jubilee offered, deadly serious.
Laura looked at Gabby, delegating the answer to her; after all, she was the one who’d been traumatized by the possession, even if she’d acted flippant about it from the start.
Gabby thought it over, chewing loudly, then shrugged and shook her head. “Nah.” When the Cuckoos were close, though, she raised her index finger at them. “Not. Cool.”
The closest one nodded, a contrite expression on her features. It was Mindee, Laura knew thanks to that eerie sixth sense, and of course she was the one taking charge, when she was the one who’d broken Esme’s hold first, and had helped.
“Yes,” Mindee said. “I’m sorry. We’re sorry,” she amended, and Celeste and Phoebe grimaced.
“Yes. We’re -”
“- sorry.”
Gabby crossed her arms and stared them down from her small height. “Yeah, okay. I’ll think it over,” she said seriously.
“We understand, but in the meantime -” With a flutter of hands, Mindee turned towards Laura. “Sophie’s trying to tell us something,” she said, quietly, eyeing Laura with something akin to a plea in her eyes. A look mirrored by her twins.
Laura’s stomach churned. “I was under the impression… I was told that I have just a ‘shard of telepathy’ inside me.” She repeated Jean’s words from the day they’d saved Akihiro. “How can she be aware enough to talk?” she asked with unease.
“Wait, what?” Gabby spluttered. “You didn’t tell me, Laura! How bad is it? Do I have that too?” she added, a bit horrified, looking between them all.
“No, you’re clean,” Laura reassured her, the reassurance Jean had given her. And she hadn’t told Gabby exactly not to make her worry, but if the Cuckoos now said that Sophie was inside her -
“No, no!” Mindee raised her hands in a non-threatening gesture, and shook her head. “You’re safe, Gabby, Esme’s gone. As for Sophie -” She sighed. “It’s complicated. It’s a shard, yes, that’s a good analogy, but it retains enough of her, if it can make sense to you. Enough to reach out and recognize us, at least, and she’s being doing that non-stop since we came here.”
“Why?” Laura straightened up, her gaze running between the three of them. “Is something wrong?”
“We don’t know,” Phoebe said.
“We can’t be sure,” Celeste amended.
Mindee nodded. “Yes, we just think she wants to say hi, honestly. She must be lonely.” She grimaced. “So we wanted to ask you, well -”
“We want to merge with her,” Celeste interrupted her.
“With your permission!” Phoebe spluttered, wide-eyed. “With your permission.”
“Merge with her?” Laura repeated, wary. Jubilee wrapped an arm around her shoulders, staring the trio down.
“Haven’t you done enough damage?” she asked bitingly.
“Whoa, whoa, is that safe?” Gabby butted in. “Are you going to possess Laura?” She sprung to her feet, tiny fists at the ready.
Laura lay a placating hand on her sister’s leg and studied the telepaths’ faces. They were grim, a longing in their eyes. They were mortified to ask this of her; they must have debated whether to approach her at all, whether they even had the right to ask, ever since their arrival. “You miss her,” she said quietly.
A brisk nod. Laura squeezed Gabby’s leg, patted it until her sister relented and sat down again with a huff.
“Is it safe?” Laura repeated Gabby’s question. “I assume you wouldn’t ask me if you weren’t absolutely sure.”
“It’s safe.” Mindee folded her hands in front of her. “We wouldn’t ask, but it’s… overwhelming, at times. To feel her, to know she’s there, to sense her reach out. Even if it’s a fragment, it’s still our sister somehow.”
“And we want to feel her again,” Celeste murmured.
Phoebe leaned against Mindee. “To be Four-in-One for a moment,” she added, yearning clear in her voice.
Laura could sympathize. Really, she could; even in those frantic moments as she looked for Gabby after the possession, she couldn’t help but reflect on her own situation, on Zelda whom she couldn’t save, and the other, unnamed clone she’d let die in Paris. She couldn’t help but reflect on what she’d almost had and lost.
And the four of them weren’t codependent telepaths; she couldn’t imagine how the Cuckoos felt.
She reached for Jubilee’s hand on her shoulder and laced their fingers together. “All right. I’ll do it.”
“Thank you!” they said almost in unison, Phoebe clapping her hands.
“Do I need to do anything?”
“No, just stay there!”
The trio sat on the grass, a few feet from them.
“Oh, you’re doing it now?” Jubilee prodded, a bit cold. Laura squeezed her hand.
“Let them,” she murmured. They were so happy, it made her chest ache. At least one family should get reunited, even if for a brief moment. The nostalgia, the worry for Logan, bit at her.
The Cuckoos closed their eyes. Laura braced for impact, for anything, but she felt nothing, that delicate tingling buzzing exactly the same. It was a relief; she’d almost feared she’d get overwhelmed, or end up in a room inside her mind like the one Sophie had rescued her from. Gabby was looking at her, ill-concealed worry on her features, and Laura smiled reassuringly at her.
It was a strange tableau they made, all laid out like this, but she was glad of it.
It ended abruptly. The Cuckoos opened their eyes, blinking dazedly in the sun, staring at each other, a crease on each forehead. And then they were up, they were leaving, without even saying goodbye… or thank Laura.
“Hey!” Gabby called out, standing up, and Mindee turned; she looked so thoroughly, clearly confused. Laura frowned.
“Yes. Sorry. Thank you,” Mindee said hastily, her sisters striding forwards without even a glance back. “Thank you. That meant a lot.”
“Of course,” Laura said, equally confused. “Was it… good? Did it feel like you thought it would?” She had the distinct impression that she was missing something; and from the Cuckoos’ scent and expressions, they felt the same.
“It was…” Mindee grimaced. “We felt nothing.”
“Oh.” Perhaps a shard wasn’t enough, after all. Laura felt for them. “I’m sorry -” she began, but Mindee had already turned, running to reach her sisters.
Leaving them there, utterly baffled.
“Well, that was anticlimactic,” Jubilee said with a frown. “And rude.”
“They’re grieving,” Laura said, squeezing Jubilee’s hand. Like them. Like everyone in the whole school.
“Yeah, I know,” Jubilee sighed, her nose crunching up; she was on the verge of tears herself. Thinking about Logan, no doubt. “You all right, baby? You want to get your head checked, make sure they didn’t do anything funny?”
“Later,” Laura said. “I’m fine. I want to stay with you.” She pecked Jubilee’s nose, trying to make her smile; and included Gabby and Shogo in their embrace. It was all right. They were together, and they’d find Logan soon.
“Okay,” Jubilee gave her a watery smile.
Then she started tickling her son, who giggled helplessly, and Gabby attacked Laura, and they ended up in a pile of retaliatory tickling, breathless and, for the moment, all problems forgotten.
Jubilee got up. “Who wants ice-cream?” she asked, hoisting Shogo at her hip, strands of hair on her glinting eyes, her cheeks red. Laura felt her heart float.
They went for ice-creams, and for that day, for that one day, all problems were forgotten.
Notes:
Next: First contact.
.
[Transition chapter! We’re recovering some things from the earlier chapters too.
Was there a scene you liked the most? Let me know in a comment ^-^ I’d love to hear what you think!]
Chapter 51: First contact.
Notes:
Additional Warnings: mention of rape, mention of grooming, discussion of past sexual abuse. The paragraph starting with “After that night, there were a few when” describes with little detail a masturbation scene.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
51.
Kitsune was nothing like what Akihiro had imagined his mother to be.
She was abrasive, harsh. Logan had told him that his mother was fierce, in contrast with her name meaning peace… but Akihiro hadn’t imagined this. Kitsune was angry – so terribly, horribly angry, ready to lash out at anything. One would think that such a stark contrast with what he’d imagined would strengthen his resolution to treat her as a stranger; but in truth, she was so like him in this regard that it made his chest ache, and his resolution crumble miserably.
She was obviously his mother. It was painfully obvious.
His mother, and yet not quite.
Grey tried to confront him about it. For a while, he put his foot down.
He could do that; after all, there was just too much going on to focus on his feelings. There were missions to attend to, constant missions around the globe, missions that turned out to accomplish nothing, Logan still nowhere to be found. For the first few days, there wasn’t even time to have sessions.
Then one day Grey had ambushed him outside the situation room, and all but marched him to her office. She’d tried, and failed, to make him talk about Kitsune, and she was too good to just press, and there were other things they should tackle. So they resumed their sessions.
He latched onto everything else she threw at him, anything.
Like his worry for Logan, for instance; hell, was he worried. It wasn’t completely rational, and he knew it; but something in the fact that Remus had Logan just set Akihiro off. He cursed himself for how readily he’d dismissed Remus as a threat, before. He hadn’t taken her seriously.
But she was a wild card. Unpredictable, an unknown variable. They had no idea of what kind of person she was, of her goals. And since Akihiro knew Romulus, well… it was easy to picture her acting just like her twin. It was easy to picture her torture Logan, torment him, use him.
Logan wasn’t a child. He wasn’t an impressionable kid who could be molded to Remus’ liking. But she was a telepath, good enough that seven of the finest X-telepaths were having trouble – Jean Grey among them, and the woman wasn’t an amateur – and she manipulated pheromones, and she could be doing anything to Logan. Anything at all, and it was torture, not knowing.
He’d have preferred to know Logan back in Soteira’s clutches, their motives known, their methods invasive but survivable. He’d have preferred to know Logan with some weird remnant of the Weapon X program. Anything, but not Romulus’ twin.
It was visceral, and terrifying. From there, Grey steered them gently towards Romulus, resuming her usual work. And there was a lot to untangle, muddled as it was with Logan’s situation. He felt… hell, he felt as Logan must have felt when he’d learnt of Akihiro’s existence; when he’d learnt that he had a son and that this son was deep in a monster’s clutches.
Situations that couldn’t be compared. But the uncertainty remained.
At last, one day Grey spared him the indignity of spelling it out. He wasn’t consciously beating around the bush, but he was tongue-tied, perhaps.
“Do you think,” she’d said, slow and careful, ready to change the subject, “that you feel this way regarding Logan’s captivity because of the nature of Romulus’ abuse? Specifically, that it included abuse of a sexual nature.”
Well. He did, didn’t he? Of course he did. Because they knew that Remus was obsessed with Logan, enough to seduce him years ago and to proposition him in front of his partners. Because she possessed two means of persuasion, and Pherokinesis wouldn’t be enough to force anyone; but telepathy, on the other hand…
“For what’s it worth,” Grey had said, smelling distinctly upset; but he had to give it to her, she was nothing but a professional, and although she was worried for Logan too, she must present Akihiro a calm, reassuring front. “The more likely explanation for the kidnapping is that she wants a new agent. And from what we could gather, she does value consent.”
She didn’t say, but she obviously wasn’t just referring to when they’d checked Logan’s mind. They must have interrogated Kitsune on the matter. All the same, Grey was willfully ignoring something in her effort to reassure Akihiro.
“Grey, Romulus never forced me,” he pointed out quietly.
She had sat up straighter, expression carefully blank, her voice pitched to ease scared animals. “Akihiro. That’s not exactly true, is it?”
He’d heaved a trembling breath.
“There was the imbalance of power, yes. The tortures, the punishments. The fact I was ten when he took me. The training he subjected me to. My fear of him, my need to please him,” he enumerated, not only to ease her mind. “I know he abused me, Grey.” He talked slowly, watching his hands, priding himself on how little they shook these days when he broached the subject, when he thought about it. “What I mean is that he never physically forced himself upon me.” He suppressed a shudder at the mere idea. “He didn’t need to; his grooming did all the work. And I don’t know if what he did even registers as sexual abuse to him: he comes from a different time. Not that he'd care if it did." No, he definitely wouldn't. "But Remus is his twin. I wouldn't know if her concept of ‘consent’ is more similar to ours than to her brother’s.”
“Similar enough,” Grey had said. “I don’t want to dismiss your concerns, Akihiro. But you have to trust me here. The worst we can expect from her is that she’s brainwashing Logan into a perfect soldier. Does that make you feel better?”
Oddly – quite terribly, indeed – it did. He could get behind that. He could help Logan come back from that without having a breakdown of his own. Grey remarked that he was good that he was thinking about the future and focusing on what he could do. That he was remaining positive.
But he wasn’t being positive. He was just fervently hoping all would be well. He was fervently hoping all would solve.
And that, she’d pointed out with a self-satisfied smile, was growth, if one thought about his usual outlook on life.
They didn’t spend all their time on that single topic. There was at least some positivity in his life and it was important, she said, that they focused on that too. She lauded him for opening up to Lorna, for his commitment to unburdening Laura of all his woes. He was grateful for how much his sister had helped him through so much, but it was time she took care of herself. And he thought that it was working, that she looked happier, and healthier – barring the current situation, of course.
And Johnny. Grey had only praise for how they were handling their relationship. Johnny had effectively moved in, a big step forced by the circumstances, but it was going well. Johnny was a rock, a shining support. He came on missions, too, but they tried to go on different teams sometimes; Akihiro didn’t want to rely on him too heavily, to turn him into a crutch, an obsession.
That was a ‘healthy outlook,’ according to Grey. His conversation with Johnny in the park, that baring of hearts, had made him realize just how much they were changing each other. He didn’t want to become codependent. He wanted Johnny to stay as he was. Not stagnant, of course, but not completely changed either.
With that he didn’t mean ‘corrupted’; both Johnny and Grey, each in their own way, made sure he didn’t think that he was corrupting Johnny. Johnny especially was eager to reassure him that there was no part of Akihiro that was tainted. That he was scarred, yes, but he was whole.
That had been a weepy evening. They’d stayed awake well into the night, locked into a gentle embrace, Johnny carefully thumbing Akihiro’s face. Richards had brought Johnny a fireproof bed that was bigger than the standard one issued by the X-Men, so they could comfortably lay in it without getting cramps.
The new bed meant Grey was gunning again for joint sessions with Johnny. They had yet to accept, but Akihiro thought they were navigating well enough the more physical aspects. Watching Johnny, that night in the park, seeing his eyes, holding his hand… it had felt good, it had felt right, to be there. He could be with Johnny without feeling like he was being used. They could connect like this; he could be there and bask in Johnny’s presence, in knowing he was helping Johnny feel like that.
After that night, there were a few when the kissing and cuddling led elsewhere for Johnny. They devised a system, experimenting until they found the best position, with Johnny sat between Akihiro’s thighs and leaning against him, back to chest, Akihiro’s arms wrapped around him. He usually ended up clutching at Akihiro’s hand too, his grip strong and frantic as he stroked himself with the other. It felt good to hold Johnny close as Johnny chased his orgasm, to feel Johnny’s heartbeat speed and slowly slow down against his palm. To bring Johnny down from the haze with kisses. He could honestly say that he wanted nothing more than this; to be able to touch Johnny, to know he wasn’t hindering Johnny’s pleasure. To be a part of it, in a way that didn’t make him feel unease.
He didn’t know if he’d ever push things further; after all he’d always had a certain amount of libido… libido that for now, probably due to all that was happening, or to the fact that nothing was being asked of him, was shockingly low. For now he was content with what they had, and Johnny was happy too. They were happy.
So there wasn’t a shortage of topics for his sessions with Grey, and she was gracious enough – she’d always been – to let him decide what to talk about; and he didn’t want to talk about Kitsune.
That changed after his outburst in the situation room. He’d implied that Munroe felt threatened by Kitsune’s presence.
He was mortified. He hadn’t even been aware of thinking such a thing, let alone knowing he’d sprout it in public at the worst possible time. Like a little kid hoping for his estranged parents to get back together.
When he’d calmed down enough he’d gone straight to Grey.
“Even if she’s my mother,” he’d gasped, pacing the room, “She’s had her own life. She must have had lovers. She felt the loss of not being able to have children, so she must have tried. And Logan thought she was dead! He couldn’t put his life on hold. I never begrudged him for his million liaisons, I never begrudged him for Munroe and Wagner.” God, he’d have to apologize to the pair now, too. The exciting perks of being on speaking, if not even tentatively cordial, terms with his father’s partners after Logan’s kidnapping. “I’m not that irrational, we’re not even sure if it’s my mother, so what got into me?”
Grey had listened to his rant, calmly seated at her desk. He’d realized that she wasn’t impressed at all with how deeply he’d put his head in the sand.
“I’m not saying it was a bad idea to differentiate between your mother and Kitsune, if you felt the need for it… but it plainly isn’t working.”
Grey had a gift for cheeky understatements, when she felt like it.
Avoiding Kitsune at all costs wasn’t the way to go, either; with nothing else to go by, it only cemented the similarities, or the perceived similarities. Until he confronted her as a person, he would have problems sticking to his strategy.
And there was the fact that she was – oh, she was, it was clear, it was obvious, everybody knew it – she was his mother. How could he keep acting like she wasn’t?
Grey had inhaled as if to speak, then hesitated. “Would you consider speaking with her again?”
Not that soon. Not so soon.
“Emma… well, Emma tends to favor a brutal approach.” Grey grimaced. “She’s been asking about your progress. She thinks we should put you and Kitsune in a room. I agree that you should try and talk to her again.”
“Do I have to?” he’d said morosely.
“No, you don’t have to. I only say because you’re handling this badly. And you’ll need to be more balanced when we attempt to get her memories back.”
Well, there was that.
“We know it’s my mother,” he admitted, weary, sitting down on Grey’s sofa. “I don’t need to be more balanced. When the time comes, I’ll be ready.”
Grey had looked at him pointedly. “So there’s nothing on your mind regarding her. You don’t have any doubts or fears.”
He’d laughed; he’d had to. “Fears? Lots, Grey. I fear that you won’t even be able to scratch that wall. I fear that she’s a well-done clone. I fear that she’s a nobody who’s had plastic surgery and an injection of DNA. I fear that she is my mother and she’s a victim in this, a victim of Logan’s presence,” he continued, feeling slightly hysterical. At least she wasn’t – they weren't – the sadistic twins’ blood. “I fear that she was working for Romulus and was ordered to seduce Logan, in order to make me, his little weapon, and then she was disposed of -”
He trailed off, choking on his words.
“Romulus doesn’t know about her,” Grey said firmly. “Akihiro, we checked, without making it clear what we were looking for; the last thing we wanted was to accidentally reveal her to him,” she reassured him. “She most certainly wasn’t ordered to have you.”
A constriction in his chest, something he’d carried for days, disappeared.
Then his stomach plummeted, he made to speak -
“And Remus,” Grey anticipated his protest, “was never even near Jasmine Falls.”
“If Romulus doesn’t know about Kitsune, it means Remus took her without his knowledge. It means she wasthere, Grey. Perhaps it was Remus who orchestrated everything -”
A lot of things to unpack.
Grey agreed that he shouldn’t talk with Kitsune just yet, and he agreed to add the woman to the content of their sessions. It was fair enough; he knew he was on edge. He knew he had to solve his issues before they retrieved Kitsune’s memories – enough to be functional, at least, and not crumble at what truth would be revealed.
A fine little plan.
Two weeks after he’d first gone into Grey’s office to finally admit to the problem, the X-Men set out for the umpteenth time. Akihiro was amongst them; they were sure that this time the intel was valid. A team had spent a good part of the previous day analyzing and cross-referencing a document that they’d found in a facility.
They were sure.
And yet, for the umpteenth time, nothing.
The mood in the jet as they came back was sour. Akihiro left as soon as they touched down at the mansion, unwilling to submit himself to the upcoming muttering, to the reporting.
They all knew that Munroe’s accusation from two weeks ago was true. Hell, even he knew, despite his outburst; he’d always known, deep down. He’d always wondered why Kitsune had been sent to stakeout the school the night of Logan’s kidnapping. It was clear by now that it hadn’t been Roston to plant Akihiro’s face in Kitsune’s mind.
Remus was playing with them.
She’d sent Kitsune to them, like a suicide bomb. She knew they’d take her in and she knew they’d free her, and she knew that Kitsune would want to retaliate. She knew all the places Kitsune knew about.
And up until now they’d all been sure that she must have missed something anyway, that some piece of unblemished information would reveal itself, but… they were starting to lose hope.
Akihiro was beginning to think he’d never see Logan again.
So he avoided the report. He went straight to the room he shared with Johnny, he showered, and then they ate lunch in the cafeteria. After that Johnny had scheduled one of his long video-calls with his sister, and Akihiro left him sprawled on their bed, hugging a pillow and inquiring about his niece and nephew. The Fantastic Four were looking for Logan too, as well as most of the superhero community, but so far even they had gotten nothing.
Remus was a ghost. Worse than her brother, a true mistress of camouflage.
She was playing with them all.
Akihiro pondered how to spend time before his next session. The school was retaining only the core curriculum, so he couldn't even distract himself with the lit class he’d been offered. Laura was away, on another team, but news had gotten already that they hadn’t found anything either. He didn’t feel like chatting with Lorna; and Jimmy, whom he spotted furiously training in the Danger Room, would just be a painful reminder of the failure.
Jimmy was taking this just as harshly as the rest of them; he kept saying they weren’t family, and he’d never accepted Logan’s attempts at having a conversation… but he’d still thrown himself at the search. Perhaps Akihiro should approach him, but he couldn’t bring himself to.
Gabby should be with Jubilee; he could join them, but lately the woman was morose, and today he couldn’t joke and pretend everything was all right.
He would just read on his bench.
His mind made, he browsed the Kindle app on his phone while he made his way towards the bushes hiding his secluded little spot.
He saw her legs first, clad in loose trousers, naked feet firmly planted on the ground. He looked up and saw Kitsune sitting there, on his bench, her hands resting on her lap, gazing serenely at him.
She was still hiding her scent. That’s why he hadn’t noticed, or else he’d have veered from the path far before she saw him.
He froze. She cocked her head, watching him from beneath the fringe she was growing, her hair held in a ponytail.
“Akihiro,” she said, and God, the pull of her voice. “Come, sit.”
She patted beside her. He stared. It reeked of ambush, honestly; she must know that this was his place. And she wasn’t surprised at seeing him, nor was she scurrying away, whereas they’d been carefully avoiding each other up until that moment.
Had she approached him like this two weeks ago, he’d have run for the hills. As it was, his talks with Grey had at least centered him enough that his voice didn’t waver when he said: “Does Frost know that you’re here?”
She shrugged. “Do we need chaperones? Aren’t we capable of handling ourselves around each other, to conduct a conversation in a civilized manner?”
Frost was a meddling witch and Grey had said that the woman was all for shock therapies; he wouldn’t put it past her to orchestrate this little tête-à-tête. This not-answer certainly made him lean towards such a conclusion.
Kitsune straightened up. “Do you need me to leave?” she asked, her head cocked to the side, studying him quietly.
Grey was right; hiding wouldn’t solve anything. He should just rip off the band-aid.
Akihiro pocketed his phone. “No.” And he sat down, there beside his amnesiac mother.
She appeared satisfied, nodding to herself and leaning back against he bench. “You found nothing.”
He glanced at her. Obviously she’d been at the meeting he’d vacated. “We didn’t.”
She clenched her jaw. It was a common enough sight after every failed mission; but it never failed to make his heart miss a beat. Did he look like this – this furious, this vicious – when he clenched his jaw?
“I feel like a pawn in Remus’ game,” she snarled, staring ahead. “I feel like I’m just dancing to her tune, doing what she wants me to do. She lied to me, used me for decades, and I’m still doing what she wants. I want her dead.” She balled her fists.
It took him a while to find his voice, to know what to say. He knew all those feelings very well. “She’ll pay.”
“Oh, she will.” Kitsune returned her attention to him, her features contorted with anger. “You understand, don’t you?”
He fought the lump in his throat. She was so different from what he’d imagined. But could he blame her? Could he blame her, for giving in to fury? “Yes, I do.”
She nodded. “They hurt us. They separated us. And now Remus hurt you again. She has your father. Does that upset you, that we still can’t find him? Are you frustrated with me? Do you hate me, Akihiro?”
“No!” he rushed to say, panicked. It hadn’t even crossed his mind. Everything else, but not that. It wasn’t her fault. It wasn’t her fault if Remus had decided to make a plaything of her, every intel she relayed just unusable garbage. “I don’t hate you. I could never.”
She’d been taken from him. She’d been taken from him, and for so long he’d thought she was gone, but she wasn’t. She was here. Alive.
She wasn’t really his mother.
She sighed, looked away from him. “I want to do something for me. I want to get some agency back. Even if it corrupts any residual intel I might have… it would lead to nothing anyway. What’s the point in delaying this?” she said softly, to herself.
He turned to watch her fully, his heart racing. Did she mean… did she want to do it, then? Did she want to try and retrieve her memories?
“Would you object to it? I know it could lower the chances of finding your father. But I’m tired of wondering, Akihiro. Aren’t you? I’m tired of wondering what I’m missing, of seeing myself in you and not knowing -”
There was a new vulnerability in her, something he had never seen in these weeks. It chafed him.
He caught her hand by reflex, wanting to calm her down somehow, to reassure her. “We’ll find some other way to find him. Some way that isn’t directed by her. Have you told Frost that you want to try?”
Kitsune searched his face. “I was led to believe that you aren’t ready. That your feelings on the matter are tumultuous, and we need you balanced enough in order to act as anchor -”
He jerked. Had this been discussed already among the telepaths, then, and he’d been deemed too unstable yet? Why hadn’t Grey told him?
No, he knew Grey wasn’t the type. She’d only ever been completely transparent with him. This was all on Frost.
“That’s ridiculous. I’m ready. I won’t let you live in ignorance a minute longer, not if I can help it.”
How long had she been asking to be allowed to reclaim her memories? And he’d dawdled, focused on himself, when it was her life on the line, her mind. He was more than capable of facing whatever truth came out, whatever had happened. Whatever woman the woman behind the veil was.
But was he? He’d pictured something so different, so reassuring. A calm, maternal figure. There had been no place for flaws in his fantasies, and his mother seducing his father was further beyond, something he dreaded. Was he ready to face it, if that turned out to be what had happened? Grey was trying to make him see that Kitsune was human, that she could make mistakes… but could he survive that kind of mistake?
Kitsune shook her head. “No, you aren’t ready. I see it. So I came here to assuage your fears. Ask me what you want, Akihiro. I’ll answer.”
He exhaled. “There’s nothing you can say,” he confessed. “No answer you can give. It’s all in my head -”
“So it’s the past you fear,” she ventured, pulling her hand away from his grip, turning fully towards him. “Do you think this easy for me? I led a good life. I was accomplished; I knew nothing save for what Remus showed me, but I never wanted for anything. I never suspected there could be more. Do you think I don’t wonder what kind of woman I was, what I lost, what happened?”
She spoke harshly, filling him with shame, because she was right. This had nothing to do with him and his fears. He should acknowledge them, yes, Grey had made a point of it, he couldn’t just push them down; but ultimately, this was about Kitsune. About his mother.
She waved a hand. “What are your fears, then? Let’s hear them,” she added, in a brusque manner.
He hesitated. But who else could have answers, beside the woman whose mindset would hopefully be similar enough to that of the person he really wanted to ask?
He took a breath. “I suppose there are two possibilities. Either you worked for Remus, and was ordered to seduce my father, and something happened, and you were punished. Or you knew nothing about any of this, and Remus found you and decided to take you, and wiped away your mind to have a blank slate.”
She nodded briskly. “The two options I discussed with Frost. What would you prefer?” she asked, straightforward, non-nonsense, completely out of left field. He started.
“It doesn’t matter. You’re my mother. I’m just grateful you’re alive.”
“That, my dear, is bullshit,” she spat. “Do you want me as a victim? Or as someone with at least some agency?”
That was an… interesting way to spin it. He reeled. Was she wrong, though? Her being Remus’ agent would mean that she’d lived on her own terms, that she hadn’t been swept away by events beyond her control.
“I don’t want you as a victim,” he murmured. “I don’t want that for you. I know how if feels. It took… a long time for me to begin to get back from that. It’s a work in progress.”
“But you’d still prefer it, wouldn’t you? You’d be upset if I seduced your father.” She sat ramrod straight, remote. “It’s my understanding that you were a mercenary before settling down here. Are you telling me you never got close to your marks in order to hit them? With our assets, with our powers, never once did you do that?”
What a conversation to have with one’s own mother. All the same, he forced himself to answer. He should try and see things her way, try to establish a conversation. Face his fears.
“I did.” That he’d been forced to do so wasn’t the matter here. He’d explain later, when she was herself. If it didn’t hurt too much. “I wouldn’t prefer it if you were a victim of circumstances,” he struggled to explain. “But to know that it wasn’t real, that you weren’t a family?” That was at the core of his stupid outburst from two weeks before. That childish need to see her back with Logan. He grimaced, amended: “That we weren’t a family.”
“That you were an accident. You have abandonment issues, then.” She nodded sagely. He couldn’t begrudge her for that remark. Those, he knew he had in spades. “You haven’t considered the third option.”
He hesitated. “What third option?”
She grimaced. “I work for Remus. I fall in love with my mark, have a child with him. I don’t want to go through with my mission.” A beat. “Or did you include this in your ‘something happened’ from earlier?”
He’d be a hypocrite to find any fault in that scenario. Johnny had been a mark; Akihiro had fallen for him hard. It wasn’t any less real because of how it had begun.
Kitsune run a hand on her stomach, where her missing womb should be, a wistful expression on her face. An ache, a longing.
“I don’t know about my past,” she said slowly. “But I know this; whatever happened, whatever I was, I did want you. I can’t imagine me not wanting you, me treating you like an afterthought. I can’t imagine being so foolish not to take precautions, if your father was just a mark. I must have wanted to stay with you two. To have you, Akihiro.” Her features contorted and she turned away, tears spilling.
Oh, she was hurting, and she was humoring him. Of course she was suffering, too; Kitsune was suffering. A real woman was in front of him, a woman who’d lost something. Who yearned to find it again.
What did it matter, how it had come to be? She wanted him now. What did it matter, eventually, if she hadn’t wanted him back then?
What did any of it matter, when she was here now?
He caught her hand. “Let’s get your memories back. I’m ready.”
She started, gazed down and then at him, uncomprehending. “Are you? What if it’s something you don’t like?” she sneered, lashing out like he did. Uncertain, afraid. Because it could still be something she didn’t like; she had no way of knowing.
They had no way of knowing.
But he knew this: he’d be there for her, whatever the truth. He’d be grateful of what he had now.
And together, they could face the past.
Notes:
Next: Peace.
.
[I think this chapter is pretty packed with information; I hope it’s not too overwhelming.
Was there a scene you liked the most? Let me know in a comment ^-^ I’d love to hear what you think!]
Chapter 52: Peace.
Notes:
Please stay safe, everyone.
No Additional Warnings.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
52.
“I must remind you that this is going to work only if you’re truly kin,” Summers said.
They were all squashed in Grey’s office. They were doing this; they were going to retrieve his mother’s memories. Akihiro sneered at the red-head.
“We are kin,” he said.
Summers nodded, her expression encouraging. “Well, I had to say it.”
“Covering all bases, you know,” Frost drawled, glancing at Grey.
Frost and Grey had discussed harshly when Akihiro and Kitsune had approached them. He’d been right to think that the meeting on the bench had been suggested by Frost on the assumption that it would shake things up; Grey had told the other telepath that her actions were reprehensible.
He wasn't happy at being directed like this either, but if it gave him his mother back... he found he didn’t care about the means.
Kitsune was already seated on the sofa, the rest of the telepaths around her. She sat straight-backed, her head held high. She was scared, now that they were here. Wondering what they would find. He was scared too. They could be scared together.
He sat beside her. She was still hiding her scent, but he didn’t need to smell her to know she was agitated; the conversation with Pryde to let the woman know what they were doing had shaken her, and Akihiro too. Pryde had pressed to wait, wait, wait until they found Logan… until Summers had to intervene to make her partner see reason. Pryde ultimately agreed that there was nothing more to be done about Kitsune’s intel, but suspicion was in her eyes.
They all wanted Logan back. But Kitsune was here, could be retrieved in a heartbeat. They should at least try and ease her pain. If it turned out that she’d deceived Logan, the X-Men could want her head… But Akihiro would stop them.
And he wouldn’t be alone. The telepaths had their backs and there was a small army outside the office, mainly come in support. There were even Munroe and Wagner, come to tell Kitsune not to worry.
It was strange to see the two women so cordial after the vitriol from two weeks before. But they’d had to find a balance; how else to survive this inferno?
Out in the corridor, before the door was shut to work, Laura had taken his hand and squeezed, no words needed between them. Johnny had been more vocal, hugging Akihiro tight and whispering in his ear, but Akihiro loved that about him. Lorna had just given him a thumbs up.
They were here. They were here, and they were doing this.
The circle of telepaths closed around them, Grey standing in front of them. “We need direct physical contact,” she reminded them gently.
Kitsune grabbed Akihiro’s hand, her grip like a vise. Almost unconsciously, he released calming pheromones.
Braddock shook her head with a frown, blinking hard. “None of that, please.”
He stopped. He glanced at Kitsune, to see if she was upset by his usage, but she was smiling thinly. She gentled her grip on his hand.
“Right, then.” Frost looked behind Kitsune and Akihiro, where the Cuckoos stood. “Are you ready, girls?”
A murmur of assent. The Cuckoos were even more distant than usual; a byproduct of their foray into Laura’s mind, probably.
“Eyes closed, please,” Grey said. “Akihiro, you’ll be pulled inside Kitsune’s mind. Hold on to her. Kitsune, concentrate…”
And suddenly, they weren’t in Grey’s office anymore.
It felt nothing like what Akihiro’s mind used to be; he could sense it, even though he was a novice. His mind had been a scarred mess, purposefully kept that way, carefully curated by Romulus; Kitsune’s was tidy, nothing out of the ordinary. No webs, no looming presences, her life simply moving all around them as if in a current.
Akihiro held on to her, Kitsune holding him back, as the telepaths fanned around them. If he concentrated, he could catch glimpses; Remus’ imposing figure, ordering her to do something; killing people; going around the world freely.
She’d led a kinder life than his. He was grateful for that.
Eventually all movement ceased and they found themselves standing in front of a sort of wall – a physical manifestation, the telepaths had explained, of the block around Kitsune’s early memories. It was crude, somewhat, but sturdy: what Remus lacked in subtlety, she had in sheer power.
This was where he came in.
All right, Akihiro. We need you to focus on your mother… on what you know, on how you feel.
Logan would be a better anchor, perhaps, although blood ties were apparently more indicated for this kind of work. But Logan knew more of her, had lived with her for five years…
And yet, he’d at least gifted Akihiro with something of her.
Akihiro called forth in his mind all he had about his mother. All those recent talks with Logan, quiet and strained. His picture of her. His longing. And those memories, those fragments, those too small pieces that Logan had shown him years ago, helped by Xavier.
His mother, walking regally by a river, her loose hair flowing in the wind, cherry blossoms dancing around her.
Idyllic, Kitsune’s dry voice commented. Akihiro turned to watch her; she was gazing at the memory of his mother with a sardonic expression, an eyebrow raised. This is a fantasy.
He felt defensive. It’s what Logan showed me.
Well, it’s working, Frost said. The wall is reacting.
Akihiro stared, breathless despite the lack of air in this psychic place, at the final confirmation that Kitsune… the woman beside him, whose hand he was holding, whose memories they were seeking out… She was his mother. She was real.
She, too, startled at the revelation. She spun, staring at the wall, at the cracks forming. She gripped his hand hard, and the force of it would have broken his bones if they’d been in the realm of the flesh, and he wouldn’t have cared either way because she was here, she was his mother, it was happening…
It wasn’t. The cracks stopped, the wall looming large and high and impenetrable.
Braddock cursed. It holds.
Then let’s give it all we’ve got, Grey said, the serenity in her voice a mere facade; her very presence crackled with power.
The telepaths did... something, the not-air suddenly smelling like fireworks, a high-pitched sound searing his ears. He held Kitsune – his mother – and she latched onto him, hissing, quietly whimpering.
Outside, in the realm of the flesh… was she convulsing, perhaps? Was she bleeding, dying out?
Grey! he shouted against the cacophony. It’s not working! It’s hurting her!
It calmed down, the chaos around them, enough to see the telepaths again, standing in a line, facing the wall. They turned, Grey assessing the situation quickly: Kitsune was standing only because Akihiro held her up.
Grey grimaced. Perhaps we should reconvene -
She could say nothing more.
Don’t stop, his mother snarled, digging her nails into his flesh, bloodshot eyes fixed on Grey. Don’t you dare fucking stop!
Summers held up her hands. Kitsune…
That’s not my name! That’s not me! I want to be me! Frost! Like a wounded animal, his mother turned towards the blond telepath. You said you’d do it! You said you’d get me back! She bared her teeth. It chafed him, to see her like that.
Frost grimaced. Not if it hurts you. It needs brute force, we can’t wage war like this inside your mind. It could scar you.
Perhaps we could find some other way? Summers’ gaze was pleading. Small raids. Chip at Remus’ defenses, bit by bit…
For how long? Kitsune demanded. For how fucking damn long? I can’t live like this, I won’t live like this, I can’t bear it, all my life was a lie…
Akihiro was torn. He understood how she felt, all too damn well, and they were so close, so fucking close. And she was barely hanging by a thread of sanity, her turmoil well hidden in those weeks at the school… but not here, in the sanctuary of her mind. Here, she was unhinged, destroyed by what was happening.
But this attempt was clearly hurting her. How could they stand by and let her destroy herself? Summers’ plan seemed to have some merits, was safer.
Let’s get out a moment, Grey suggested reasonably. Just to talk. Let us talk, okay?
Akihiro nudged his mother, hoping she’d listen. Just a moment, he murmured.
His mother was shaking her head. No, no, I can’t. You have to do something. You have to!
It would kill you, Frost said sharply, coming to stand in front of them. Is that what you want? To die just to get a glimpse? If even that, she said with such contempt that it made Akihiro want to gut her, but she was just trying to make his mother see reason. Nothing’s working, nothing’s breaking through. Nothing’s enough, do you understand? We need to devise a new strategy…
Nothing’s wrong! The gasp came from the Cuckoos. Nothing, nothing… They turned towards each other, the trio, wide-eyed and excited, grasping each other’s hands. They were jumping like overexcited toddlers. Nothing, nothing, it felt like nothing, we felt nothing!
Frost turned, alarmed. Girls? Everything all right?
Yes! They turned in unison, three identical grins on their faces , their eyes glinting eerily. Akihiro shivered. Nothing’s wrong! We were stupid, we didn’t see, but it’s clear, don’t you see? It’s so clear!
Grey approached them. What’s clear, girls?
A Cuckoo made a wide, theatrical gesture with her arm, seeming to indicate her surroundings. This, she said, more sedated. We all feel nothing, don’t we? Nothing strange, nothing out of the ordinary?
Yes. Braddock came closer, her brow furrowed.
It’s all around us, another Cuckoo said. Oh it’s good, it’s subtle, but it’s there.
Akihiro stiffened. What’s there?
Nothing. The first Cuckoo said, self-explanatory. It was anything but.
Stop speaking in riddles, his mother snarled in his arms. He held her tight.
The Cuckoos looked at each other. We aren’t, they spoke in unison. This feels easy, doesn’t it? Nothing out of the ordinary. But there is something. There is a nothing. A sort of thread? We can follow it. This wall is just a big target, it’s not the real block. We could come here day after day for years and it wouldn’t budge. But the real block, the thread, the nothing…
They trailed off.
Grey cocked her head. The telepaths were thinking, were considering, and Akihiro looked between them all, his heart hammering in his eardrums, his mother holding on to him with bated breath.
A decoy? she said, softly, barely audible. Trembling with rage.
Frost shook her head. I don’t feel anything. It’s a good theory, girls, but…
Neither could we, said the Cuckoo who had first spoken, if not for Sophie. Sophie pointed it out. We can feel it because it’s exactly how we felt inside Laura’s mind -
We need Laura here, said another, the one who hadn’t yet spoken on her own. We need Sophie. Together we can follow it. We can unravel it.
We can get Itsu back, they said together. Sure. So fucking damn sure.
Akihiro shook. You’re saying that Remus tampered with Laura’s mind too? Why do that? He shivered with uncertainty, with terror. To hide what?
He’d think about it later. After all, if this worked, the Cuckoos would take care of Laura too.
Was it really so easy? So within their grasp? His mother, in his arms… mere moments from getting her memories back?
Remus didn’t account for us, the first Cuckoo said. She couldn't know that a piece of us would get stuck inside Laura.
Esme did something right, another said viciously.
The other telepaths were looking at each other. They didn’t feel anything, but they trusted the Cuckoos, right? The trio was telling the truth – they weren’t delusional, surely?
Please let’s try, his mother said.
Grey shook herself, coming to a decision. Betsy, go and take Laura. We’re giving this a go.
Her lover disappeared.
Grey came towards Akihiro and his mother. At the first sign of strain for you, we’re stopping, she stated.
His mother nodded. Yes. I understand. But at least try…
We are, Summers said. We are, I promise.
His mother clutched at his arms. Akihiro stood, holding her, hoping to stay strong. Hoping to be a rock for her, now that they were so close. Inside, he was reeling. Oh, to see his mother, to finally meet her -
Braddock reappeared, Laura with her. His sister was pale, plainly shocked, but she’d taken this in stride. What do you need? she asked, ever professional.
The Cuckoos surrounded her, crowded her really, so close to her it was suffocating to witness. And for a moment… for a moment, Akihiro could see a hint of the dead Cuckoo, a lighter tinge of hair. Got it. Three voices, a fourth reverberation, a hint of triumph.
Then it all came loose.
Akihiro curled protectively around his mother as they were surrounded by water, cold and freezing and unforgiving, then by burning fire. He couldn’t get a sense of the telepaths; they were alone, floating inside a bubble. The silence was deafening, a white noise that pierced his brain, shadows unfurling inside him. A rage, something screaming in abject, furious defeat. And then -
And then…
His mother gasped, there in his arms. She gasped, aloud, as if desperately seeking air, her fingers digging tight into him. She gasped, trembling, shaking, and for a moment he thought they’d killed her, that the strain was too much, that she was dying in his arms.
Come here, she panted, wide-eyed, pulling him in. Come. See. Oh!
He stumbled into her chest. He saw, oh, he saw…
He saw her. He saw her standing tall and proud and regal in a field, surveying the houses. He saw her fight men in a circle, a dance full of grace. He saw two kotachi blades inside a wooden box, buried in the ground. He saw…
He saw Logan. He saw his parents talk and walk, dancing around each other. He saw Logan building a house. He saw their wedding – so beautiful. So beautiful, so beautiful, stars in their eyes. He saw her stroking her round belly, smiling at Logan. He saw…
He saw her standing on the patio, heavily pregnant, gazing into the night. He saw her move suddenly as a bullet embedded itself in the wood mere inches from her, he saw her running inside –
Akira!
He was pushed, found himself back in his body in Grey’s office, breathing hard, yanked against the sofa. Kitsune – his mother – his mother sat beside him, her hand a vise around his, wide eyes unseeing, a rapt smile on her face. He hesitated, caught her arm.
“Oka-” His breath caught in his throat. “Okaasan.” Oh, God, his mother.
He burst out crying. All these years, all these fucking years, and she was here, she was here…
She came to. Through the veil of his tears he saw her come to, her eyes focused again, zeroing in on him immediately, and… and…
“Akira!” She launched herself at him, hard, her hands on his shoulders, on his face. She laughed – wild, carefree. “My son. My son! ”
He sobbed. Distantly, as from far away, he didn’t really care, he felt movement, he heard murmurs, the door opening. The telepaths were leaving. Laura, too. He didn’t care. He didn’t care, his mother was in front of him, his mother, his mother…
Oh, oh, God.
Hesitantly, reverently, he made to embrace her. She yanked him close, fierce, a snarl in her throat. “My baby boy. Akira!” She wailed. “My baby, my baby - ” She rocked him like an infant. He sobbed.
“I’m here,” he choked out, holding her just as fiercely, overwhelmed. “I’m here, I promise, I’m here.” Oh, his chest was so light, it felt like a balloon. His heart was thundering in his ears, it was drowning him. His mother. His mother, here in his arms! His mother, free and whole, his mother –
He lost all sense of time. He was with her, finally with her, and nothing else mattered. She held on to him with such strength, as if scared he’d disappear if she let go. He must admit that he felt the same, his arms tight around her, his face hidden against her shoulder, shuddering, sobbing with joy, with relief. She was his mother. She was finally with him.
Eventually she broke them apart. She pushed at his shoulders, just slightly, and he moved back, extricating himself from her hold, freeing her from his. But he didn’t dare letting go of her, not completely. He sat there, his hands brushing against her arms, still quite disbelieving that she was here, she was actually here, she was his mother, she’d been all along. All those doubts he’d held, their keeping their distance – they’d lost so much.
And all these years, these decades. Oh, they’d lost so much. But now they had time. So much time.
His mother was mirroring his quiet study, her hands on his shoulders, eyes rapidly cataloging everything about him with a new awareness. They’d spent some time as Akihiro and Kitsune, but now they weren’t anymore. Now they really were mother and son.
She reached out and wiped away his tears. “My Akira,” she said, soft, yearning. Then she caught herself, offering him an apologetic smile that struck him dead. “I’m sorry. Akihiro, is it?”
“You can call me whatever you want.” He fought the lump in his throat. It must be the name she and Logan had chosen, the name he’d forced Logan to keep to himself. “I’ll answer to anything you choose.”
“Akira, then. Just until I adjust.” She thumbed his cheek. “My baby. No – you’re a man. Look at you!” She gestured at him; his heart ached, oh, so much. “A man grown.” There was regret in her voice, fresh and painful. “Oh, Akira. I’m sorry. I wasn’t there for you.”
He caught her hand. “No need to apologize. For anything. It wasn’t your fault, mother.”
She shook her head. “So quickly you excuse me.” She squeezed his hand. “A few hours ago, you dreaded all sorts of things. You feared I was a honeypot, put there to lure your father. Don’t you want to know?”
A few hours ago, she’d been a stranger. A few hours ago, she’d feared things too. She’d feared, so strongly, to have been a victim of the circumstances, a chip, a chess piece, moved around against her will.
She was here, and she wanted him. She’d always wanted him. He didn’t care about what had happened, about what had led them here.
“I saw that you loved him. I sensed it.” It was to that purpose, he supposed, that she’d dragged him inside her memories as she retrieved them. “That is enough.”
“I loved him, yes. He was exceptional. Logan! We have to find him.” She nodded firmly to herself. “But I want you to know me, son. I want you to see me.”
There was nothing else he wanted more. To truly know her, to get to know everything about her. But her intensity scared him, in a way; what could she possibly hide? However heinous her crimes, however strong the hand she’d had in creating the chain of events leading to her death and to his nightmarish life… it didn’t matter.
“There’s time,” he said gently.
“No,” she countered, sad resolution etched into her features. “I won’t stop until Remus is punished. And if I were to die in the process, I’d die without you knowing me -”
“Don’t say it!” he begged, panicked, terrified of losing her so soon. “Please don’t say it. We’ll work together, mother. We’ll find her. You don’t have to go after her alone. Please don’t.” He held her hands tight, hoping she’d understand. It seemed that the stoic, lone wolf act wasn’t just in Logan’s blood. “Please, mother,” he choked out. “Don’t make me lose you so soon.”
“I won’t leave,” she reassured him, soft and kind. She cupped his cheek. “But all the same, my son, my baby, my Akira, please let me tell you.”
If it was that important for her, he could acquiesce. And hope her truths didn’t destroy him.
Could he live with the knowledge of her betrayal? He didn’t know if he was strong enough. Could he live with the revelation that his life had been a horrid lie again?
This time, perhaps he could. This time, he wasn’t alone anymore.
“Very well, mother. Tell me.”
She sighed. She took his hands, held them between hers.
“I was born in Hokkaido,” she said quietly. “In a secret village I hope to show you someday. Our powers… they’re matrilineal; ours is a family of shamans.” A secret heritage. He had a secret heritage, a family perhaps, shamans hidden to the world. People who manipulated pheromones, who knew how to raise one that could. How different his life would have been, had he been born there! He listened, dumbfounded, her heartbeat pulling him into the story. “Our powers usually skip a generation or two, so when my grandmother died I was the last one. I should have taken her place, and set out to have children. But I was young.” She grimaced. “I was a stupid young girl, and I ran away, wanting to prove that there was something more, that we couldn’t hide forever and help villagers out. The world was changing then, so much.” She sighed. “But I was still a young girl in a foreign world. And I ended up -” A shadow passed over her face. “I ended up killing for hire; we train ourselves to fight too, you know our powers help in that regard… but I’d never taken a life; and now I did it to survive. But I reveled in it, Akira. It came easily to me, as a second nature.”
He reached up, wanting to comfort her; she smelled terribly ashamed. They were born killers, in his family. They longed for blood.
So much blood on all their hands.
She took a breath. “It took a long time to snap out of it. To long for peace again, to seek what I’d lost. I came to Jasmine Falls to find redemption; and there, I found myself again.” She put a hand on her heart; she closed her eyes for a moment, breathing, centering herself.
Akihiro regarded her, an ache tugging at his heart. So far, she hadn’t told him anything terrible; he understood the pull of violence, and lately, the search for something more. He could tell her that his own story mirrored hers in part; he couldn’t begrudge her for these choices.
She hadn’t mentioned Remus yet.
“Logan told me that the village housed former ninjas,” he offered quietly. Logan had thought her the daughter of one of those ninjas; evidently she hadn’t disclosed her past.
“That is correct.” She opened her eyes, dropped her hand from her chest, caught his again. “Men and women who looked for a better path. And we found it; we were free. Logan came…” She heaved a sigh. “He came some years into my sojourn there. There was something in him – a magnetic, melancholic force. He struggled, but held on, strong and true.” She squeezed Akihiro’s hand. “I came to love him.”
They’d been a family.
They’d been a real family.
Akihiro nodded, overwhelmed at the revelation, at the confirmation. “And then the… dance.” He probably had witnessed her own ritual fight, as he saw her memories.
“Logan lost control.” His mother shook her head, her eyes full of sadness. “He shouldn’t have danced in the first place; he wasn’t ready yet. He... he left to meditate. That night, I was waiting for him… I wanted to tell him that he would overcome the pull of violence. That I had faith in him.” She let out a sob.
He squeezed her hands, alarmed by the tears now running freely on her cheeks. “Mother -” It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered, he didn’t want her to suffer like this. “Okaasan, you don’t have to -”
“Earlier, I pushed you out of my memories,” she choked out. “Not because I wanted to spare you the sight of my death. That, too, but not because of that. No, I did it because I was… I am ashamed of what I did to protect you. When the bullets failed and I retreated, this man, this animal came into the house…” The Winter Soldier. Akihiro gritted his teeth; he had to remind himself that the man had been brainwashed. Bucky Barnes wasn’t the enemy; although his mother could think differently. “I fought back. I could just incapacitate him, but I was angry, I feared he would hurt you in my belly… I hit hard. I wasn’t thinking, I was back to… t-t-to violence again. I lost myself.” She hid her face in her hands. “Oh, I lost myself. If I hadn’t lost control, if I’d kept focused, I would have incapacitated him -”
“Mother.” Akihiro rubbed her arms, aching to comfort her. He made to embrace her, but she shook herself free. He tried not to take that badly; she was clearly, so terribly ashamed. “Mother, you fought for me. And that man… he was well-trained, enhanced. You couldn’t have stopped him.”
If she had, Romulus himself would have probably come. That possibility was horrifying.
She lowered her hands. “It wasn’t this Romulus, then,” she stated, reading something in his trembling voice. If nothing else, now that she remembered, she’d have realized that the man who’d killed her couldn’t possibly be related to Remus. “But you know who it was?”
“Yes. I’ll tell you. We’ll confront him together, if you like -”
“I fear this path.” She grimaced, looking away from him. “The path of blood. I fear what I’d do to this man, to Romulus, to Remus. Remus!” she wailed. “Oh, damn her! And damn me,” she added, breathless, the shame skyrocketing. “Damn me for falling for her tricks!”
“No.” Akihiro caught her hands. “No, don’t blame yourself. They’re monsters, manipulators. They know exactly what to say. Remus remade you, tore you away from yourself -”
“I asked her!” she wailed.
He froze, unsure of her meaning. Terrified of it.
“I woke to darkness,” his mother gulped, talking quickly, wincing. “You were gone, I could feel it. And she was there. She told me you were dead. That she’d healed me, although obviously now I know that she’d brought me back to life. She told me that she’d had to take my womb away because it was too damaged by the fight and by your loss. She told me that Logan was dead too. And I -” she squeezed her eyes shut. “I lost myself. I was full to the brim with fury, Akira, I was drowning in darkness. She said she could take it away, take it all away, and I was ashamed at what I’d done, at what I wanted to do. I told her to do it. To wipe me clean. I only wanted to kill. And for years… for decades now, I have killed.” She hung her head. “Ai, gods, ancestors, I lost myself,” she muttered fast, in archaic Japanese.
This was her terrible truth, the thing eating at her, the thing she feared would make him see her differently.
He understood the shame. He knew how masterfully Romulus could play someone, and Remus must be the same. She must possess the same surgical precision.
“Okaasan,” he said gently. “You’re found again. She has no hold on you anymore.”
“Yes,” she gasped, looking up at him, her gaze clear and strong, a manic light in her eyes. “Yes, Akira, my son. I’m found. I’m free.” She grimaced. “But my hands -”
He held them carefully, as the precious things they were. The hands of his mother. “We’ll clean them,” he promised. “We’ll wipe the blood away. You’ll find yourself again, mother, I promise.”
She clung to him. “Oh, Akira, my son. My son.”
He held her, certainty searing itself in his heart. He’d help her. He’d see her restored; he must. His mother. God, his mother, alive, and aching.
The path was clear. Find Logan, find Remus. Save Logan -
And make the monstress pay.
Notes:
Next: Checkmate.
.
[Itsu’s back! :D
I remember more than a few years ago there was quite a lot of us Daken fans who thought her treatment was terrible. And that she should have more. Hey, I still hope that she suddenly turns up alive in the comics, those pheromones don’t come from nothing!
Was there a scene you liked the most? Let me know in a comment ^-^ I’d love to hear what you think!]
Chapter 53: Checkmate.
Notes:
Comments bring the author joy! And give juice to keep writing ^-^ I’d love to hear what you think, I’m putting a lot of energy into this story.
Additional Warnings: mentions of grooming and child abuse.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
53.
Remus had Bellona too.
Bellona, the fourth Alchemax clone, the one Laura and Gabby had forgotten… the one they had been made to forget. The thought that Remus had gotten so close that she’d managed to perform her mind-trick made Laura’s blood run cold. Even with their memories restored, neither Laura nor Gabby remembered being approached by Remus; she’d done it all from the shadows. Even Jean couldn't remember quite when Remus had attacked her time-displaced self; but attack Remus had, since there were traces of her presence in Jean’s mind, traces that Jean eradicated quickly now that she could sense them.
All of those who had been present when Kimura had made her move had forgotten Bellona. Jean, obviously. Remy. Tyger Tiger. Hill and Fury.
A quick check with S.H.I.E.L.D. revealed that Bellona had been taken from their custody almost immediately, quite soon after Kimura’s death. When Laura had gone to tell her aunt and cousin that they were safe from Kimura, she’d already been made to forget Bellona.
At least Remus hadn’t taken Kimura too. The mere idea – when it struck her – had taken the wind out of Laura, but the monster’s remains were still where S.H.I.E.L.D. had put them. Not even Remus wanted someone that vicious.
Laura wondered – tormented herself, really – how abandoned Bellona had felt when she was taken; but perhaps she’d even been mind-wiped, like Itsu. Perhaps she wasn’t herself anymore.
They had to find her.
Gabby was inconsolable, feral. She was furious, itching to fight. The Sisters had shared a strong bond, and Bellona was the last link; she'd taken care of Gabby when the others were dead. Losing her like this… it chafed. Gabby wondered “what the hell” did “that hag want with Bell,” and wanted to be active in the search.
Laura wasn’t sure it was a good idea. Remus had Bellona already, and she could decide to take Gabby too; Laura couldn't put her sister in harm’s way like that.
Whatever she ended up deciding, though, they had a new plan to search for Remus. Cerebro still didn’t work, Remus must be counteracting it; but the telepaths devised a theory.
Wasn’t it possible that Remus had done the same to her twin? After all, wasn’t it strange that he was so ignorant of anything? Wasn’t it possible that Remus had taken care of his memories too, tying up loose ends? And if that turned out to be true, wasn’t it possible that somewhere in his mind, some useful information might be found?
They had the key now. They knew Remus’ signature. Laura – Sophie’s shard – acted like a sort of catalyst that the Cuckoos could follow. Esme’s horrific acts, at least, had served some purpose. Remus couldn’t have anticipated something like it would happen, nor the strong bond the Cuckoos shared. Now this would be her undoing.
To think that she’d laid so intricate a trap, intending perhaps to keep the X-Men occupied for years! Jean was sure that neither she nor anyone else would have ever been able to help Itsu retrieve her memories if the Cuckoos hadn’t sensed that faint trace. By now they all knew that they were being led on, and this, combined with Itsu’s situation, implied a devious level of cunning. It wasn’t out of the realm of possibilities to think that there were at least years of false information lined down for them.
That is: Remus likely intended to keep Logan forever.
But she wouldn’t. She was going to lose. They were going to find her, and Logan, and Bellona too. Now they had a new source to examine, and they knew Remus’ tricks.
Just the day after retrieving Itsu’s memories, the telepaths expounded this theory in the situation room, laying down their reasoning and concluding that this time, if they interrogated Romulus, they’d get to the truth. Everyone concurred that it was worth a shot.
And then Itsu spoke up. “I want to be there.”
Akihiro blanched. He caught her hand and pleaded with her in Japanese. It was their not so secret language; they’d spent together most of the previous day, strolling on the premises and talking in their mother-tongue, only separating for the night. Laura would never forget how at peace Akihiro had looked when he’d come out of Jean’s office with his mother. And this morning, taking place beside her in the conference room with a warm, happy smile.
He didn’t look at peace now, begging Itsu to stay away from Romulus. But his mother was a headstrong woman.
“I want to look him in the eyes.” Her voice was level, controlled. “I want to look at the man who ordered my death, who hurt my son.” She squeezed Akihiro’s hand.
Frost backed her up. It wasn’t an unreasonable request, the need only natural, and it could throw Romulus off. It could even help them breach Remus’ hold more easily.
As she was the one tasked with Itsu’s psychological well-being, her suggestion was taken into consideration. And as Rachel decided to support the two women, the other telepaths finally relented.
Laura had been watching Akihiro throughout the exchange. Pale at first, worried, disbelieving; than a sort of quiet resolution took hold of his features. Laura knew what he’d say even before he opened his mouth.
“Then I’ll be there too,” he choked out. He cleared his throat, composed himself. “With you, mother.”
Jean took a long look at him; the two might be conversing telepathically, Akihiro rigid and clenching his jaw, his gaze never wavering away from the telepath.
In the end, Jean bowed her head. But she imposed a condition: “You’ll leave if I tell you.”
He nodded, his mouth a thin line.
This led to Johnny proclaiming he’d be there to support Akihiro, and the telepaths granted it, knowing Akihiro would need all that and more.
Too many people, though, for a small cell in prison, when so far only Jean and Braddock had been allowed. Too many mutants; too much trouble. S.H.I.E.L.D. objected to this invasion of their spaces; and in the end Pryde proposed a brief transfer of the monster to the mansion.
This didn’t sit well with Akihiro, but not only with him. Many were perplexed and concerned at the prospect of bringing Romulus into the school, among children; this was in no small way due to Akihiro’s outburst the first time that Romulus had been interrogated. Laura wasn’t too happy, either.
But if it was the only way to get him, to find Remus, to save Logan and Bellona… then they’d do what had to be done.
Romulus wouldn’t be out of his bounds, free to roam the school and pick new victims. He would be in a reinforced cell in the basement, restrained, his powers blocked. This was their home; he would be completely harmless.
Not for Akihiro, of course. Despite all the therapy, despite the fact that he was facing the prospect in a remarkably sedate way compared to his reactions from months before… this was still his personal nightmare coming too close after years of distance. The monster had heavily influenced Akihiro’s life even years after he was gone from it; Akihiro could present a strong front all he liked, but Laura knew him.
She got a glimpse of it just before Romulus’ arrival.
Laura was already down in the cell with Frost and the Cuckoos; they didn't want him to anticipate that this time would be any different than the other times he’d been interrogated. Jean, Rachel, and Braddock had gone to retrieve him from the prison; they were almost back to the mansion.
Akihiro, his mother, and Johnny had yet to arrive. Laura understood the reason when she heard her brother shouting “I said no!” from the floor above. She went into the corridor, worried, and saw the trio coming down the stairs… tailed by Gabby and, a little back, by Jubilee.
At the bottom of the stairs, Akihiro turned to address Gabby, his eyes wild, Johnny laying a hand on his arm. “Get up there, Gabby!”
“I want to stay too!” Gabby screamed just as Jubilee reached them and attempted to lead Gabby up the stairs again. Gabby snarled and shook Jubilee off. She was throwing a tantrum.
Laura started towards them. Gabby had been asking to be there with Romulus too, but Laura had vetoed it. She’d thought her stern talk was enough…
But she should have known that Gabby would just let her talk to then try anyway.
She reached the group. “Gabby, you heard him. Please get upstairs.”
“You aren't letting me do anything!” Gabby snapped, turning towards her. “Bell’s gone and you don't even let me help! I want to do something!”
“I understand.” Laura crouched to be on her eye level. “You’ll help when we get her, Gabby. Bellona will need you. There's nothing you can do here.”
“I can help with Akihiro!” she cried. “He’s a mess, I can calm him down! He always lets me!” She shook her tiny fists, looking up at their brother, betrayal in her eyes.
He looked away and took a deep breath.
“Thank you, Gabby,” he said, voice a bit strangled. Johnny was rubbing his arm. “You staying in your room, that would calm me down.”
Itsu stood by, uncertain, her gaze pained.
“You don’t need me anymore!” Gabby wailed. “Nobody lets me do anything! You’re all getting on with your lives and I’m just put to the side!”
Laura started. She’d been remiss, to have Gabby think like that. When had it begun? The first time she’d handed Gabby over to spend time with Jubilee?
She exchanged a glance with her partner, who looked as shocked as Laura felt. “Gabby,” Laura began, softly, “We aren’t putting you aside. I’m sorry I made you feel that way -”
“You are too!” Gabby cried. “You’ve got Jubilee and Shogo and Akihiroand he has you and Johnny and his mom now and I’m redundant, I know that! I’m just your clone…” She crunched up her nose, tears threatening to spill.
“You’re my sister,” Laura reassured her. “You and Bellona, you’re my sisters. I love you.”
“You’re my sister too, Gabby,” Akihiro said, joining them on the floor. He was pale, grimacing. “I’m sorry I neglected you. It’s been… a hellish couple of weeks.” He attempted to fluff her hair. She moved away, morose. “When this ends we’ll go out, okay? What do you want to do?”
“I don’t want Lorna!” Gabby snapped. “You two were talking about your things the whole time, you can’t buy me a skirt and think it makes it okay!”
Laura had missed everything. Gabby had seemed happy enough, the other day, after her shopping trip with Akihiro and Lorna. Skittish, maybe, but Laura ha thought it the Cuckoos’ fault.
“You’re right, sweetheart. It will be just you and me, okay?” Akihiro pleaded. “But for now, can you please go upstairs with Jubilee?”
Gabby pouted. “I want to help.”
“You’ll help me by staying upstairs, safe.”
“But it is safe! The mansion’s full, there are X-Men literally sprouting from the walls -”
“Gabby,” Laura began gingerly, wondering how best to explain that this wasn’t rational; that Akihiro simply couldn’t face the thought of having Gabby in viewing distance of his old tormentor.
“Do you know what grooming is?” Akihiro said, softly, his voice dangerously level. Laura’s chest clenched painfully.
Gabby peered at him from under her fringe, uncomprehending. “Like, with dogs and horses?”
“With people. Kids. It’s when an adult manipulates you to make you do what he or she wants.” Akihiro held her gaze, talking seriously, as if addressing a peer. Gabby would appreciate that. Laura looked up in time to see Johnny gaze down at her brother with such love, such rage, such unending loyalty. Itsu had closed her eyes.
Gabby pursed her lips. “That thing Laura told me about when she said to watch out when I’m online?”
“Yes. That.” Akihiro nodded. “It’s what Romulus did to me. I don’t want him anywhere near you.”
He’d come so far. Months ago, he wouldn't have been able to say anything like this. He would have hidden, held silent, suffered alone. He wouldn't have dared to use such words.
Laura brushed a hand against his thigh. Akihiro didn't acknowledge her, his gaze fixed on Gabby.
Gabby stared back at him. “I thought he was just a really evil trainer. Like Mooney, but worse,” she whispered, recalling her own old tormentor, the man who’d trained the Sisters and that Bellona had ultimately killed.
Laura and Akihiro hadn’t wanted to destroy the little innocence Gabby had been able to retain, so they’d always been nebulous when mentioning Romulus in her presence.
“He’s a predator,” Akihiro said. “But I don’t have the right to call it worse than what you went through.What was done to you was terrible, and only you get to decide how to define it and how it defines you, Gabby.”
“I… I understand.” Gabby worried her lower lip. “But I know he’s evil, no? And he’s locked up -”
“I’d still feel better if you stayed away, Gabby. Can you do that for me? Please?” He caught Gabby’s hands and held them between his.
Gabby studied him for a while, saw how earnest and terrified their brother looked. “Okay,” she murmured. “Okay, I can do that.”
She threw her arms around him, pressed a kiss to his cheek, and she was gone, taking the stairs two steps at a time, Jubilee going after her. Laura would have to talk to her when this was over. It wasn't acceptable to make her sister feel like she wasn’t cared about.
She looked at her brother, who was still crouching rigidly on the floor. “Are you sure you’re up to this?” she asked quietly.
He shook himself. “Yes. I had to, eventually.”
He stood up; Johnny immediately clasped his hand.
Itsu was looking at her son with regret. “Akira, I’m sorry. You don’t need to stay -”
“Of course I do.” Akihiro silenced her protests with a smile.
Together they reached the cell. Frost was waiting for them, leaning against the jamb. “They’re right, you know. You can wait upstairs; we’ll take care of your mother.”
He glared at her. “No.”
Frost shrugged. “As you wish. You three can go in the other room then, he’s coming.”
Akihiro started badly. “Gabby -”
“He’s being taken through a longer route. He won’t cross her way.” Frost went back inside, waving a hand dismissively. “Shoo!”
They had to get out of Romulus’ sight because the telepaths would first have to take off something Braddock had done to him the first time she'd interrogated him – namely, she’d put a sort of trigger in his mind, so that he’d experience a sharp twinge of pain every time he thought about Akihiro. She said she’d thought it fitting; when she’d explained what she’d done, Akihiro had looked at her as if she’d sprouted a second head.
Obviously it would be impossible to make him see Itsu or even, possibly, Akihiro with that trigger in place; and it could interfere with their delicate operation.
Laura took her place in the cell, beside the Cuckoos, as her brother, Itsu, and Johnny went into the adjacent room. She hoped Akihiro would be all right.
Soon, Romulus came, moved around by Jean’s telekinesis.
Laura had never met him. He was an intimidating sight even bound and collared, thinned by prison life, his hair shaved; no wonder he still held such power in Akihiro’s mind.
But he was being pushed away from it, bit by bit.
He was staring at her. His eyes were startling, an even black surface, no pupil visible, but he was plainly staring at her as he was led inside the cell, as he was secured to a metal bed. Pryde – who’d come to that exact purpose, to fasten his holds in ways he couldn't possibly free himself from – finally moved away from him, grimacing in plain distaste.
“I’m done,” she said. “Call if you need anything, okay?”
Rachel nodded. Pryde disappeared through the wall and sealed the room. The telepaths made to put themselves all around Romulus.
“The clone,” he spoke up, still staring at Laura. “Lovely structure.” Laura fought a shudder. She’d dealt with men like these. Men who only took. She’d dealt with them efficiently.
“Shut up, creep,” Braddock snapped. He looked up at her with a benign smile.
“Of course, Miss Braddock,” he sneered, tilting his head. “And the lovely Miss Grey, of course. And what a contingent of telepaths! I’m honored. If you’d just tell me what you’re so passionately looking for, I might be able to help.” He looked around, affecting poise. He was wary, though; one could see it in his tight posture. He glanced at the two way mirror, at the door leading to the adjacent room.
“Shut up, I said.” Braddock caught his head between her hands, none too gently.
“You’re working solo today? That’s -” He broke off with a pained howl, Braddock severing the trigger she’d implanted.
She let go of him and stepped back, Romulus breathing fast.
“Ah.” He took a shuddering breath. “Ah! I see.” And then he smiled, such a delighted, vile, deranged smile, full of malice. “Daken!” he barked, as if he could still order people around, order Akihiro around. He'd obviously surmised part of the reason why the trigger was being removed. But he was in for a nasty surprise. “I know you’re here, boy. Show yourself, you duplicitous -”
“You don’t get to see my son,” Itsu said, coming out of the other room, firmly shutting the door behind her. She held herself proudly, her chin raised, as if looking at dirt. She was looking at dirt. “You don’t get to order anyone around. You’re just a relic, Romulus.”
Romulus stared at her, frowning, unable to compute what he was seeing. The telepaths and Laura kept silent, giving Itsu this moment of triumph. She was trembling, just a bit, but she was holding her ground.
How was Akihiro faring, in the other room? Laura glanced at the two way mirror, blessing Johnny’s presence.
Romulus exhaled. “You? How? ”
“Your sister revived me,” Itsu said. “Remus. Did you know that? That’s right, you didn’t. Do you know what else you don’t know?”
Romulus growled and tested his bounds, looking wildly between them all. He was staggered, thrown off balance. It was a good sight, Laura thought with an amount of viciousness that startled her.
“We think your sister made you forget things,” Frost said, taking charge. Romulus snapped his head in her direction with wide eyes. “It’s upsetting, no? To know that your mind was tampered with. How does that make you feel?” she asked, with mock concern. Nobody could toy the line quite like Emma Frost. Jean wouldn't have been able to do this.
“Remus is a feeble female,” he snarled, trying to regain his footing. “She did nothing of the sort -”
“No, see, she made you think that,” Frost dismissed his words, turning away from him. “You need to tell him something else, dear?” she prompted Itsu encouragingly.
“No,” Itsu sniffed. “He’s nothing.” She turned to leave.
“Nothing? Your son is mine,” Romulus snarled. Laura felt the distinct need to stab him. She had been broken and trained to be a cold assassin and she’d painfully stitched herself together, managing to find a balance in her heart, to refrain from killing; but his sight, his words, they made her see red. “Do you know he killed his adoptive mother? Such a nasty boy -”
That was all he managed to say; not even the telepaths had the time to move a finger before a blade skidded right by Romulus’ head. That shut him up.
Itsu stood tall and regal, pale with fury, the other blade ready in her hand. “You put him where he couldn't learn to use his powers,” she hissed. “You engineered it all. It wasn’t his fault, it was yours. He’s not yours.”
She turned rigidly and left. When the door was closed, though, Romulus made a new attempt, staring straight at the two way mirror. “Daken! Come here this instant, you ungrateful cur!”
“My name is Akihiro,” came from the intercom, Akihiro’s voice strong and sure. Laura’s heart went to him; it must have taken him a great deal to master himself so. “And I’m not yours.”
Romulus snarled. He strained against his bounds, again, but they were heavily secured, and he was trapped, helpless.
“That’s enough.” Jean gestured at Laura and the Cuckoos. “You come here, then. Take lead.”
The four took Braddock’s place near Romulus’ head. He tilted it to watch them. “What’s this? You don’t know what else to do, that you have to use clones?” He’d reverted to plain nastiness, desperately needing to lash at something. They ignored him, even though Laura would have loved nothing more than to stab his face. “You could just free me, I could lend my efforts,” he added pathetically.
“Oh, nice try.” Braddock looked murderous.
“You have so little faith in your powers? I’m surrounded, I couldn’t possibly do anything to you -”
“Shut. Up!” Rachel exploded. She’d conducted herself calmly up until now, but Romulus had finally gotten under her skin. No wonder, given her past. “Shut up, you fucking monster,” she snarled, “or I will make you, so help me -”
“Rachel, we need him alive,” Jean said sharply. Her gaze spoke of love – was Rachel all right? Could she do this? - but her posture was martial.
Rachel nodded briskly.
Romulus barked a laughter. “That’s a disturbing show of hysteria. Are you sure you’re in the right place, young -”
“Oh my god, Jean,” Braddock groaned. “Let’s just tear this bastard down.”
It took no other warning. A blink and they were in his mind, the Cuckoos holding Laura close, communing with their sister. It was shockingly easy when they knew what they were looking for, as Laura had seen when they’d retrieved her and Gabby’s memory; just a sigh, a sharp pull, and the intricate web running through Romulus’ mind was gone.
They wasted no time moving through the disgusting beast’s memories, looking for any sign of Remus and her hiding places. He fought back, throwing horrible sights at them, the only thing he could do without his powers: they ignored blood and crying and screaming; Laura ignored her brother’s back marked by lashes, his tears-streaked adolescent face. She ignored two poor children on an operating table, crying and snot-nosed. There were no bounds to Romulus’ cruelty.
There’s a strong memory ahead, the Cuckoos said, their voice echoing in her mind, her own voice reverberating. Remus is there, her signature’s all over it.
Great! Frost said. Lead the way, girls!
They saw Romulus in a valley among mountains, looking surreptitiously around. He seemed incredibly imposing, with long hair and a broad, muscled chest. He was a magnetic, feral sight. No doubt he’d used his appearance to beat Akihiro into submission, too.
He moved some bushes until he seemed to find some sort of entrance, a metal door in the ground. Before he could do anything, it was opened from the inside and Remus appeared, standing in a platform.
“Brother,” she said; if looks could kill, Romulus would drop where he stood. “What a delightful surprise. How did you find me?”
Romulus tsked. “I’ve been keeping tabs on the land. I admit it took me a while to catch up, but then you started building. What are you doing?”
“I didn’t expect you to care. Come, then.” Remus stepped to the side to give him space. After a moment of consideration, Romulus joined her.
It seems a useful memory, Frost pointed out as the twins went down, the platform a lift. The telepaths decided to let it play out, see where it led them.
The descent ended and the twins got out, Remus leading her brother down a slope. It was an underground construction, a little mock-valley, complete with trees. A perfect hideout. Perhaps the X-Men should find this place.
The twins stopped walking in a clearing. Romulus looked around, clearly impressed; Remus watched him like a bird of prey, but he didn't seem to notice or care.
“Well?” she said.
He shrugged. “It’s a striking likeness. You’ve always been a sentimental fool.” She bared her teeth, but he ignored that too, taking some steps in the clearing. “What’s its purpose? I assume it has a purpose and it’s not just a ridiculous memorial.”
Remus crossed her arms. “I’m going to raise my heir here.”
“Ah.” Romulus cocked his head, considering her. He glanced around. “Can I meet them?”
“I don’t have it yet.” She pursed her lips in clear annoyance. “I selected a candidate.”
She wants a n heir, like Romulus, Jean pointed out. This complicates things. It certainly gave a new meaning to Logan’s abduction.
“I wish you fortune in that endeavor, then,” Romulus said, but he didn’t look sincere; he seemed distinctly amused.
Remus ignored him. “What about your endeavor, brother? The newest unfortunate soul?”
Romulus leered. “Oh, he’s almost ripe. I’m going to collect him soon.”
“And what then?” she asked, disgust in her features. “Are you going to ruin him, like all the boys before him?”
“Ah, here we go.” He sighed theatrically; a knot of unease was forming in Laura’s stomach.
It’s his M.O. Braddock looked furious. The fucking animal.
“Has it ever brought results, save from giving you sadistic pleasure?” Remus said with contempt. “Has it ever given you a functional heir that doesn’t self-destruct before his fifties?”
“They serve my purpose well enough.” Romulus waved a hand. “I grow tired of your moods. I find it especially laughable that you stand there so high and mighty, denouncing me for my reprehensible lack of ethics, when you mind-wipe your ragtag she-warriors.”
Remus snarled. “It’s different.”
“Ohhh, yes -”
“It’s more humane -”
Romulus laughed. “You’re as much of a sadist as me, sister mine. Don’t lie.”
“I don’t torture children!” Remus protested.
“You should try,” he said, deadpan. “They’re so malleable.”
Bastard. Rachel was green with nausea and fury. Fucking bastard.
Laura felt the same. Her brother was… he was the last one on a long list of abused people. She felt for them. She could only take comfort in the fact that Romulus had been stopped, that he couldn’t hurt anyone anymore.
Remus seemed more sedated, at least. With a strong sense of some kind of ethic. She still mind-wiped people, but perhaps it bode better for Logan’s fate than what they’d feared. And for Bellona.
“You have been trying out something else.” Remus ground her teeth, visibly trying to restrain herself. “So you can’t tell me you’re satisfied.”
“It’s an experiment.” Romulus shrugged. “We’ll see.”
“And what then? Are you going to measure your two champions against each other, father against son vying for your favor, in a fight to the death?” Remus asked with a strange tone, that Laura couldn't quite read because it finally struck her: they were talking about Logan and Akihiro.
Akihiro was the ‘newest unfortunate soul’ and Logan was the ‘experiment’ - his life directed from the shadows, rather than in person.
“You know, I might.” Romulus looked almost excited at the prospect. “That would be a sight, wouldn't it?”
The enmity he’d engineered between Logan and Akihiro, just a result of a throw-away comment. Like a damn game. Laura could kill him.
She felt the Cuckoos huddle themselves around her in an attempt at comfort.
Remus had stilled, her features cold and harsh. “No, I don’t think so.”
Romulus raised an eyebrow, a grin still on his lips. “Pardon?”
“You can play with this Logan all you want,” Remus said with a low, dangerous voice. “Throw anything you want at him, make him dance to your tune, amuse yourself if you have to. But you will not kill him.”
The telepaths looked at each other. What did she want with Logan? So soon, even, at least thirty years earlier than they’d thought?
Romulus changed his stance, making himself look bigger. “I fail to see how it’s any of your business,” he snarled. “Keep out of each other’s pockets, remember?”
“Are you really so blind?” Remus sneered. “Right, you are. Always unable to see the forest for the trees. He’s compatible, you fool. Your boy got the mother’s powers, didn’t he? That means your little experiment can produce a child with us, too. ”
Laura felt cold all over. A child… an heir… a candidate. Logan. Remus wanted to have a child with Logan.
That’s not good, Frost said.
Jean nodded, pale. Not good at all. Let’s leave, see if we can find this place’s exact location…
She and Frost disappeared.
Around them, the scene kept moving. Unable to do anything else, Laura watched, desperate for any other information. Romulus was staring at his twin, his head cocked to the side, considering. Then he clicked his tongue. “No, I don’t think so. Make your own experiments.”
“I’m not asking. ”
Romulus cried out and fell to his knees. Remus towered above him, her eyes flashing; he panted, cradling his head. “How –”
“How, you ask? I’m just a weak-minded female, aren’t I?” Remus said calmly, Romulus whining in front of her. “I’m our mother’s daughter, Rashek,” she taunted. “You’re just the pathetic leech who can’t do anything on his own. A stab to your pride, I know. Don’t worry,” she added softly, mockingly. “You won’t remember this.”
We can’t get out! Braddock screamed.
Laura whirled around. Braddock was on all fours, heaving. Rachel was frothing at the mouth, her eyes white. The Cuckoos were convulsing. She looked for Jean, for Frost, but they weren’t back yet. Were they trapped too?
“You will keep Logan alive,” Remus was saying, bent over her writhing twin, her features wild, inhuman – her voice echoing all around them, distorted. “You will forget everything about our past. You will forget everything about this place. Your name is Romulus. My name is Remus. We hail from ancient times. I’m your unassuming, submissive sister. There’s no need to concern yourself with my affairs.” She paused, considering, her head cocked at an impossible angle. “You can’t siphon. You don’t know that I can. You don’t know what that means.”
Laura stared, surrounded by cacophony, her powers useless here. She stared as the telepaths fell, one by one. She stared as she felt herself being pulled, pulled into darkness, unbearable pain taking her.
Remus hadn’t just taken memories from Romulus, memories containing information that they could use to save Logan.
She’d also sealed some power of his.
And they’d just given it back to him.
Notes:
Next: Reckoning.
.
[Was there a scene you liked the most? Let me know in a comment ^-^ I’d love to hear what you think!]
Chapter 54: Reckoning.
Notes:
This chapter’s heavy. When I began writing this story I didn’t anticipate things would head here, but it was, perhaps, inevitable.
This chapter’s heavy, but it’s also a story about reclaiming oneself, so don’t worry about things taking terrible turns. They won’t.Additional Warnings: confronting one’s abuser; gaslighting; mentions of child abuse, grooming, and forced prostitution.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
54.
Akihiro shouldn’t be here.
He was in over his head. He’d thought he could manage the pressure, the sight of Romulus, but he couldn't. Even bound, collared, tamed by the telepaths, it was still him – his damn voice, his commanding tone.
When he’d called Akihiro to heel, Akihiro had almost gone, answering to that odious name. Only Johnny’s presence had managed to ground him, to hold him back, Johnny’s hand squeezing his. And the sight of his mother – his magnificent, brilliant mother, challenging and resisting Romulus, standing tall and proud despite what he’d done to her, to her family. It had given Akihiro the strength to address Romulus, to pronounce his identity with pride.
But nothing more.
Romulus was a disease, a cancer. Akihiro could feel it, was fighting it, was winning… but confronted with his old tormentor, seeing him in the flesh, he collapsed. He wasn’t ready. He hated Romulus, knew what he’d done, knew it in ways he hadn’t been able to see for so long; but he wasn’t ready to face him. Grey had been right; he should have listened to her.
He should just leave. But he was horribly fascinated too, this a chance to see Romulus conquered. He would take his small victories where he could.
His mother was watching him, wary and worried. Akihiro smiled at her. He’d come here to comfort her and be there for her, not the other way around. But she was strong, his mother; so strong. The violation she’d been subjected to hadn’t destroyed her. She’d survive.
Johnny was behind him; he’d wrapped his arms around Akihiro’s waist, and Akihiro leaned against him, grateful. He drew strength from Johnny, from his love, his scent. His mother stood beside them, a hand on his arm.
Together, the tree of them silently watched the scene in the other room. Nothing much was happening, all telepaths and Laura simply standing around Romulus, but there was something so viscerally satisfying in seeing Romulus rendered innocuous. Even when Akihiro had slept in the same bed as Romulus, the monster asleep, he’d always felt the danger simmering beneath the slumber.
Not so now. Romulus was harmless –
The telepaths and Laura collapsed to the floor without warning. Akihiro tensed, sick with dread; a slick feeling he’d thought he’d never feel again. He watched – he was frozen, he couldn't move – as Romulus opened his eyes, his familiar leer in place, so sickeningly familiar.
“So. Not so smart, this lot,” he drawled.
Johnny cursed. His voice was very distant. Akihiro’s eyes were glued to the monster who wasn’t escaping his bonds, but just testing them lazily, looking around.
“I’m calling for help,” Johnny whispered, an arm sliding away from Akihiro’s waist to take out his phone. “Aki?”
Akihiro couldn't answer. He felt Romulus’ gaze when the monster finally turned his head towards the two way mirror. He knew Romulus couldn't possibly see him, and yet the monster’s eyes focused exactly where Akihiro was. “Are you still there, Daken? Come here.”
He wasn’t a mongrel.
Akihiro stayed put out of sheer force of will, of rage – though instinct warred against him, decades of training and abuse conditioning him to obey.
His mother squeezed his arm. “You aren’t getting in there,” she said fiercely. She looked ready to go in his place, her blade already in hand. The thought that she so easily dismissed her own feelings to stain her hands in his defense filled him with sadness.
“Neither are you.” Looking away from Romulus helped, the magnetic pull of his eyes rendered useless. “This is the X-Men’s home. They’ll deal with it.”
“Yeah, they’re coming.” Johnny caught his hand. Akihiro weakly squeezed back. “Not to worry, Mrs Itsu.”
Footsteps, fast, in the corridor outside. Pryde came into the cell, and she was halfway towards Romulus when every woman on the floor started convulsing. Pryde stopped, wide-eyed. “What are you doing to them?” she snarled, breathless.
“I drop, they die,” Romulus explained calmly. “You wouldn't want to risk it, would you? To risk your lover’s life?” he leered.
Summers let out a horrendous screech. Pryde started towards her, stopped, swayed, looking wildly between her partner and Romulus.
“Out!” Romulus bellowed. “Get Daken here.”
Her eyes never straying from Summers, Pryde retreated. Akihiro focused on Laura, his sister straining on the floor, her head hitting the leg of Romulus’ bed.
He could feel that gaze over him. Caressing him, baring him. Romulus wanted him there. Why? Did he think that Akihiro would fall in line?
“What the fuck happened?” Pryde snarled, storming into their room. He jumped. Behind her, the door was opened, other X-Men filing inside. Logan’s lovers and Lorna and Rogue, Gambit, Drake…
“We don’t know,” Johnny said. “They just fell and he woke up -”
“But he’s still collared!” Pryde came to stand beside them in front of the mirror. “And he isn’t freeing himself.”
“Perhaps he can’t.” Lorna joined her, studying the bounds. “They seem to hold. I could strangle him, see how he likes that.”
“He said they all die if he drops.” Pryde was pale. “Don’t touch him for now. Okay, we need some heavy lifting, right? Other telepaths.” She faced her teammates. “We need Quire and Monet. And Xi’an. And Dani.”
Akihiro shook himself, a shudder running through him. “No kids.”
“What?” Pryde furrowed her brow. “You mean Quire? He’s of age, he graduated.” She gentled her gaze. “But you’re right, let’s evacuate the kids, just for good measure.”
They should have done it before bringing Romulus to the school. They should have fucking seen this coming. God, Gabby was upstairs. And Zach – even if Akihiro hadn’t seen the boy ever since that day in the garden, he knew Zach was still in the school…
“I’m on it,” Rogue said. She left the room quickly.
“Quire’s in L.A.” Pryde was typing on her phone. “Kurt, can you go get him as soon as he fucking answers?”
“Yes.” Wagner swished his tail. “Kätzchen, perhaps the Professor -”
“Why, any of you know how to contact him?” Pryde snarled. “He made it clear he’s not interested in getting back here. Jerk.”
Gambit sighed. “Okay, but we may need someone else. He incapacitated seven of them, mon amie.” He gestured at the cell, at the unconscious – now unmoving – telepaths.
“Christian Frost has some telepathic ability,” Drake spoke up.
“Great! Call your beau,” Pryde said.
Akihiro walked backwards till he hit the wall. The X-Men were handling this, some coming inside, others leaving, talking, planning. It was all right, the X-Men were handling this. They were powerful, they had allies, this would end soon. They were a force of nature. They were the X-Men, for God’s sake.
Romulus’ gaze was still on him. Through a sea of people, it seared him.
“We can leave,” Johnny murmured, beside him. “Aki, you don’t have to stay -”
“My sister’s in there.” He forced himself to watch Laura’s prone body, to ignore the weight of Romulus’ gaze. “Laura’s in there, I can’t just leave her.”
“Okay,” Johnny said, softly, clasping his hand; putting himself between him and Romulus. “Okay, love.”
Akihiro sighed in relief. He felt as if underwater, Johnny a lifeline keeping him afloat. This would end soon. It had to. He focused on his breathing, on his mother, on Johnny. This would end soon. It was all right.
The backup group of telepaths came, the kid – Quire – reeking of bravado; Akihiro had to suppress a shudder. The boy looked young, but he wasn’t an impressionable child. The five telepaths got to work…
… and fell, just like who’d come before them.
Akihiro reeled. God. God.
“Xi’an!” Pryde dropped to her knees by the Vietnamese woman. Quire – blood coming from his nose, his eyes wild, miraculously still conscious – yanked at Pryde’s uniform.
“He’s siphoning our telepathy,” he coughed, splattering blood everywhere. Then he, too, blacked out.
Romulus laughed, a low rumbling sound, echoing in the small chamber, tumbling inside Akihiro, drums in his ears, doom doom doom. “Not so pathetic now, eh?” Romulus called out, his eyes black and empty, a void.
Glued to the wall in a vain attempt to escape the sight, Akihiro called upon everything he’d done with Grey, every technique, every scrap of control he could muster. A wave of calming pheromones washed over him, his mother attempting to comfort him. Johnny yelped in pain, Akihiro was crushing his hand. He loosened his hold, counting his breaths. In, out, in, out, in, out -
“Are you still there, all panicked, running around?” Romulus was asking, amused. “Wondering ‘what should we do, what should we do?’ Children.”
Pryde stood, passing a hand through her hair. “Let’s just ignore the fucker, yes? Ideas?”
She turned to look at her teammates. They were the X-Men. They were the fucking X-Men, they’d battled far worse than an illusionist, it would be fine, it would be fine -
“He obviously can’t do more than this,” Munroe pointed out. “He’s siphoning the telepaths, yes, but we can surmise that he can’t use their power against someone who isn’t touching his mind, or else he’d have taken us all out already. The power dampener still affects him. He’ll wear out -”
“Yes, but what about them?” Pryde gestured at the two groups of telepaths. “We can’t wait for him to faint for lack of sleep and food. And if he drops –”
“He’s bluffing,” Drake snarled, seated by his lover, the man’s head in his lap. “That bit about them dying if he loses consciousness? Come on, it’s an obvious bluff.”
“Would you bet on it?” Colossus said quietly. “Can we risk that?”
As if on cue, all telepaths – and Laura, God, Laura – started convulsing again, Romulus’ voice echoing in the room. “Do not ignore me, ants. Give me what I want and maybe I’ll stop hurting your friends.”
God, he wanted Akihiro. What did he want with him?
But he was still bound; and he was collared, so he could use neither his Pherokinesis nor his telepathy. Akihiro would be as safe… as safe as it could be. If it stopped Laura’s torment, if it served some purpose…
Johnny pulled him close. Akihiro realized that he was standing away from the wall; that meant that he had unconsciously pushed himself off of it and started towards the monster.
“No, Aki,” Johnny whispered. “It’s what he wants, don’t let him get under your skin.”
Akihiro swallowed and clutched at Johnny’s arm. Beside them, his mother was steadily giving off calming pheromones, but it wasn’t enough. He needed to be put under, rather.
Nobody had seen him move. They were all focused on Romulus, on their suffering friends. The closest to the intercom, Gambit, answered: “We are not freeing you, monstre.”
“Far be it from me to ask that,” Romulus said, slick, reasonable. “I just want Daken in here. Alone.”
They all turned to look at Akihiro, some wincing and looking away, others with considering glances... Pryde among them. She’d ignored Romulus’ request up until now, she hadn’t even shared it with the X-Men, but now that they’d tried and failed, she must be grasping at straws…
His mother put herself between him and the X-Men, her blade ready. “You call yourselves heroes?” she said calmly.
“Shit, of course we aren’t -” Pryde startled, looking guilty, and went to the intercom. “Out of the question, you creep,” she said clearly into the mic. She closed the communication. “Sick fuck.” Then she turned to face Akihiro and his mother and Johnny. “We aren’t gonna give in. I promise. Akihiro, if you need to leave -”
“You made friends, Daken?” Romulus leered, looking straight where Akihiro was. Akihiro shuddered. Even when Lorna put herself between them, he could still feel the gaze baring him. “All these doting hens. Preying on their maternal instincts?” Romulus laughed heartily. “I’m guessing you haven’t murdered any infant yet. Do they know what kind of snake are they nurturing?” He pulled himself up, half-sitting. Some telepaths were foaming at the mouth. “This is all your fault, see. Come here and I’ll stop.”
“That’s not happening,” Lorna snarled. “Let me try choking him with the collar.”
“No, we can’t risk it -!”
“It has to be a bluff -”
The X-Men turned away from Akihiro, arguing, utterly dismissing Romulus’ demand even with the torments their friends were enduring. Having Akihiro’s back, even with the solution laying so clear in front of them, even with what Romulus had just implied about his killing days.
Akihiro was in their ridiculous, overgrown family now. Somehow, impossibly, in these few months, he’d been adopted into their own, protected as such. He had their strength behind him.
And he had enough strength to do what needed to be done.
“I can do it,” he said, loudly, to be heard over the discussion.
Johnny squeezed his hand. “Aki, no…”
“You look kind of grey, dude,” Drake pointed out gently. Even the man didn't irritate Akihiro that much anymore.
“I know him,” he said past the shudder that took him. Yes, he knew Romulus intimately. “I can distract him while you work out what to do.”
His mother clung to his arm. “No, Akira, he’ll hurt you. Don’t -”
He cupped her cheek. “It’s all right, mother. I have to do this.”
The telepaths, who’d helped him and his mother, were suffering. His sister was suffering. If all that was asked of him was to stay in a room with his abuser, he could. Grey had prepared him for this. He could.
“No, you don’t have to,” Pryde hastened to say. “I’d never ask that, okay? We would never ask -”
“You haven’t. I’m offering.” He took some steps, Johnny still clinging to him, his mother letting go with a look of loving, resigned understanding. Akihiro turned towards Johnny. “It’s all right. I’ll be all right, you’re here.”
Johnny relented. He stepped back, giving Akihiro’s hand one last squeeze. “Yeah,” he said softly. “I’m here, Aki. I’ll be right there with you, okay?” He went to the intercom, Pryde moving away to give him space.
The X-Men watched silently, the telepaths’ convulsing the only sounds, as Akihiro made his way towards the door. Their faces were journeys. Gratitude, shame, sheer rage; rage on his behalf. He felt wanted, loved. He’d never felt more loved, his mother returned to him, Johnny with him, these men and women ready to jump in his defense, ready to prolong their friends’ suffering just to prevent his.
“Shit, homme,” Gambit said when Akihiro had reached the door. “I hate to ask -”
“What?” Akihiro turned to study the man’s concerned features. To think that their first encounter had gone so differently, laced with mistrust and betrayal!
“Do you trust yourself in there?” Gambit grimaced. Akihiro stilled. “I mean, if he… If he orders you to free him, do you trust yourself to flip him off?”
It had to be asked. At least Gambit had the presence of mind and lack of filter to ask it.
Did he trust himself? He knew the work he’d done on himself. He knew he wasn’t – shouldn’t – be susceptible anymore. But was he healed enough not to snap to attention if Romulus gave him a direct order? He shook just at being addressed while out of reach; could he smell the monster and not be drawn back to a sniveling mess?
He’d found the will to fight back, once. He’d turned against Romulus and wounded him. If he’d managed to do that whilst still being in his clutches, he could stay put now.
He wasn’t alone now. That made all the difference in the world.
“I’m not his puppet anymore,” he said, savoring the truth in his words. “And I trust some of you can stop me anyway.”
“Yeah, there’s that.” Pryde nodded grimly. “Do you want less people to be here, we can move elsewhere -”
To give him some privacy. To not have everyone witness him crumble. Akihiro's chest ached.
“Just do what you must, Pryde. Find a way.”
He went for the handle before he could lose his resolve, throwing a last look at his mother, at Johnny.
Then he opened the door.
Romulus’ scent filled his nostrils. Some of it had drifted towards him when his mother had opened the door, earlier, but now he stood in the perfect position to truly savor it. It was an onslaught of memories, of sensations, a sick, horrifying, terrified nostalgia taking hold of him – no, it was just stimuli chipping at him.
Akihiro was the one with the power here. He wasn’t the one wearing a dampener, the one bound to a bed.
“Took you long enough, boy.”
Slow breaths. He was the one in control.
“I’m here,” Akihiro said, looking at a point on Romulus’ right. Keeping his voice level. He gestured at the women on the floor. “Leave them alone.”
Romulus snarled. “You dare, boy? You dare giving me orders?”
“I can just leave,” Akihiro pointed out, a hand around the handle, the door still ajar. It was true. He tasted the realness of that sentence.
Romulus’ eyes turned into slits. “Can you.” The women, though, finally stopped convulsing. Akihiro spared a glance for his sister, overcome with relief. “Close that door.”
“That’s not what we agreed on,” Pryde spoke up, her head appearing from the wall.
“Alone, I said,” Romulus drawled, Summers whimpering – an effective reminder of his power. Pryde winced, her eyes darting towards Akihiro.
“It’s all right,” he reassured her. “I got this.” He shut the door. After a last tortured glance, she disappeared.
“You ‘got’ this, boy?” Romulus taunted. “See how they care for you, leaving you alone with the ‘monster’. This is how they repay you? And yet, you just saved their people.”
Akihiro was here on his own accord. They hadn’t forced him. They hadn’t asked. “I saved my people.”
Yes. It was his people.
“Your people!” Romulus laughed. “I taught you better.”
He’d taught Akihiro to be dead inside. To be nothing.
Akihiro knew better now.
“What did I teach you?”
This wasn't a lesson and Romulus didn't hold the whip. He was just a relic in a cage. Akihiro didn’t have to indulge him. He didn’t have to answer.
“What did I teach you, boy?”
Laura arched off the floor, screaming wordlessly. Daken started towards her. “A weakness!” he yelped. “People are a weakness. Leave her alone, leave her -”
Laura fell, motionless.
“So quickly you turn to begging, cur.”
No, he… He wasn’t a mongrel. He was Akihiro. Akihiro.
“I’m here, Aki. I love you.” Johnny's voice, from the intercom. “I’m with you, Akira,” his mother spoke too, his mother that was alive. She was alive and Johnny loved him and he was Akihiro. Not Daken. No mongrel.
“Turn that off,” the order came, sharp.
“No.” Akihiro stood, shaking. He felt faint. He’d said no. He’d said -
“No?” Romulus’ rage was a storm at sea, even without his powers, bound and collared, unable to hurt Akihiro. Even thinned by prison food, he was a mountain, a titan; even lying down, he was massive. His muscles taut, his black eyes on Akihiro – displeasure, disappointment on his features. Akihiro’s breath hitched. “No, boy?”
“I’m not your boy,” Akihiro countered, breathless, alarm bells in his ears, wrong wrong wrong. Right, so right. “I’m Akihiro. I don’t take orders from you.”
He didn’t. Not anymore.
“But you aren’t sticking to your part of the bargain,” Romulus hissed. “I said alone.”
And the telepaths – Laura – were convulsing again, thrashing hard, harder than before, Grey’s face contorted, whines and whimpers coming from all directions.
They were hurting. They were hurting because of Akihiro.
He made an executive decision. This needed to stop and there was only one way. He could hold his own because those he loved, those who loved him, were there behind that mirror. They’d still be there even if they couldn't speak to him. He wouldn't be alone.
Akihiro marched to the intercom, fixing his gaze where he knew that his mother, that Johnny, stood on the other side. “It’s all right. Trust me.”
“Aki, no -”
“Akira!”
He stabbed the intercom, knowing they could just turn it on again from the other side. “Trust me,” he repeated. “Get to work, Pryde.”
“So many names,” Romulus drawled. Akihiro whirled around, not wanting to keep his back to the monster. “But we both know the truth, don’t we, Daken? You’re just a mongrel.”
“My name is Akihiro,” he breathed. A mantra.
“Oh, if you like.” Romulus sneered. “You always had those pesky daddy issues. You’re still thinking about that idiot Akihira, then?”
Issues fueled by none other than Romulus. Akihiro held himself very still. That rage; he had to hold onto that. As long as the rage outweighed the terror, he could win. “Don’t say his name.”
“Again with the orders. Shall I make your sister dance, then?” Romulus peered down at her, something lurid, vicious, hateful in his tone.
Hate. Romulus was full of hate. Just an inhuman monster.
“Sisters, a lover, a father, a mother… You kept busy, didn’t you? While I languished in prison. Ungrateful whelp.”
There was nothing to be grateful for.
“I seem to remember we were cut off, the last time we saw each other. We were having a conversation, you and I. Come, sit. Let’s resume our chat.”
There was a chair near Romulus. Akihiro wasn’t going to get any closer if he could help it. “I’ll stand here.”
An interrupted conversation. When Akihiro had turned against him? When Logan had taken Romulus away? That time?
“You will sit here, or I will hurt your sweet sister.”
Laura arched, just enough to send Akihiro flying. He took the chair, dragged it further away, sat down as far from Romulus as he could, breathing hard.
He was the one in control. He was the one in control here.
Romulus laughed. “See? A weakness. If you hadn’t cared for her, you’d have been able to stand your ground. But you know, deep down, you’re made to obey. Aren’t you, Daken?”
He just had to let Romulus’ words roll off his back. He didn’t have to listen. He knew they held no real meaning. He knew the truth.
“Answer me, boy. Or do you want your sister to hurt?”
Stimulus and response. Romulus was attempting to create a new dynamic, a cycle of punishment and reward. A pavlonian response. But Akihiro knew what was happening now. He could counter it, he could refuse to be affected by it.
“My name is Akihiro,” he said, managing to keep his voice even. “I’m not made to obey. I’m not obeying you. I’m here of my free will.”
“Sure.” Romulus leered. “But, before we were interrupted, before your father whisked me away… you were telling me something, Daken. And I’m really interested in what you were saying. Something about me not loving you, my poor boy.”
He shut down.
All that pain, all that longing. Selling himself, begging for scraps of affection like a mutt. Throwing himself at Romulus because if the monster wouldn’t love him, wouldn’t take in a parental role, then perhaps, perhaps he would love Daken in another way -
He’d whored himself. He’d done exactly what he’d been trained to do.
And Romulus had counted on that. He’d expected it, oh, he’d engineered it. He’d welcomed Daken with open arms, he’d taken him to bed. Sampling what he’d spent money and resources on.
“Nothing?" Romulus arched an eyebrow. "You were so talkative that day. But you always are after sex. Clingy, too.”
Clingy, yes. Akihiro clung to that word, fighting to stay afloat, the memory of the day he’d defied Romulus brought to the forefront of his mind. The memory of the previous night, hot and sticky like only Damascus nights could be. Fleeing from Logan’s trap, from Hulk and his son. The safe-house. And then, climbing on Romulus’ lap. Not seeking any connection because it had all gone to ruin already, because he already knew what Romulus had done to him. He hadn’t sought out the monster’s love that night. No, it had been an act of defiance. As he let Romulus destroy him once again, he’d clung to the thought that the next day he’d kill the monster.
And Romulus had probably sensed that thought, that frantic mantra, that plan in Daken’s mind. And he’d dismissed it, he’d delighted in the turmoil Daken was experiencing, reveling in the pain. He hadn’t really expected Daken to go through with it. Because he only ever dismissed Daken.
He had some nerve to dismiss Akihiro even now, to dismiss everything Akihiro was. ‘Clingy.’ Akihiro was getting angry, oh, so angry. Had Romulus known?
Oh, he knew exactly what he’d done to a damn child. All the ways he’d destroyed a child’s life, torturing him, beating him, carving lessons unto him. Chipping away at everything until only a shell remained. But had he known?
Had he glimpsed the truth trying to claw its way out before Daken even suspected; had he snuffed it out? Had it amused him that he wasn’t simply abusing a person, but that he was abusing an asexual person? Had it filled him with glee, to point Daken from target to target, to take him, to tame him? Had he dared to kill Daken like that?
Oh, of course he had. Of course. Just another way to control him, no? Just another way to mold his identity, to make him a perfect weapon.
But Akihiro was. More. Than. That. He was a person. People, people had made him see that. Laura and Gabby and Lorna and Grey and Johnny, Johnny in the other room. Johnny knew all of him, respected him, loved him unconditionally. His mother, his mother loved him. His father too.
“I think you owe me an answer,” Romulus was saying, amused. “You stabbed me; I ought to know why.”
Why? Why? He knew why, he knew exactly what he’d done.
“I don’t owe you anything,” Akihiro snarled, clinging to the fury.
Romulus raised an eyebrow. “No? I clothed you. I fed you. I trained you. I gave you only the best instructors, the finest in their respective fields. Why, you’re mine, Daken. I made you the man you are today. You owe everything to me. Everything.”
“I made myself. Me.” He hadn’t fought, he hadn’t bled, he hadn’t cried in Grey’s provincial office just to let Romulus wipe away all his hard work. “I’m my own man. I’m not yours.”
“Oh, Daken, that’s simply not true,” Romulus said, mellifluous. “We share a bond, a unique bond. Master and disciple -”
“You’re not my master!” Akihiro snapped, his voice rising, rising with hysteria. He fought to keep calm, to keep collected, and failed miserably. “You’re the bastard,” he almost keeled over, gasped. “You’re the bastard who abused me my whole life.”
Romulus laughed. He was, oh, so distinctly amused, it made Akihiro’s blood boil. Dismissing the truth Akihiro had fought so hard to face with his head held high.
“Abused?” Romulus leered. “I set you free. I tore away all those earthly constraints. And you were a masterpiece, Daken, you were so good. I’m so disappointed in you.” He shook his head, chuckled. “Abused.”
His disappointment didn’t mean a fucking thing to Akihiro anymore.
“You took me from my parents,” he snarled. “You tortured me. You put me in the middle of blizzards, I died in there -”
Romulus knew what he’d done. There was no need to enumerate anything, he knew what he’d done and he didn’t care, but Akihiro just couldn't stop. He knew what had been done to him now. He knew that it wasn’t right, that it had never been right.
“I built your character. You were a sniveling mess with so much potential. I enhanced you. I made you better.”
“You sold me!” Akihiro shouted. “You sold my body. You made me sell my body, you made me think it was normal to sell my body -”
“You’re a mercenary, Daken. Mercenaries, by definition, sell themselves.”
Romulus spoke so reasonably, as if talking to a child, explaining to a young boy how to act, employing teachers, instructing him to seduce and kill a mark, accepting – oh, coveting, engineering really, because what else could happen, what else could fucking happen when you taught these things, when you made them normal – accepting Daken’s desperate plea for approval, pulling Daken’s hair, crushing him with his weight…
“You know what I mean!” Akihiro screamed. “You could have just trained me to kill, but no, you had to titillate yourself, you sick bastard, you monster, you pedophile!” He grasped at the seat, reeling, breathless.
“That’s what you focus on? Oh, Daken.” Romulus shook his head. “So many things I’ve allegedly done to you, and you cry because you regret coming to me? I seem to remember you seeking me out, Daken. Not me. And you weren’t a child, you idiot, that’s disgusting. You came to me. And kept. Coming. To me.”
“I was sixteen! I was sixteen and you made me, you had it all laid out. You put me with prostitutes. You made me study seduction since the beginning, a side curriculum to the murder lessons. Weapons and sex positions,” he choked. “Kill points and signs of arousal. My face, my body, just other assets to use.”
One time he’d “gifted” Akihiro to a lieutenant, with orders to kill him afterwards. Another he’d had to wait for his mark in a brothel.
He’d been so young. So fucking damn young. He took a fortifying breath. “And when you thought I was ready…”
Akihiro remembered that day. He’d remember it until he lived. The bare room where Romulus received the reports, where one had to kneel like a supplicant. Akihiro had risen fast in Romulus’ ranks, murdering everyone he was pointed at. He didn’t cry anymore. He took his punishments like a good boy because it had been beaten into him that they were necessary, that they taught him how to be even better. A cold, dead, deadly doll.
“You said I was doing good,” he snarled, seeing red. “That you’d heard such good things, that I was a natural. I was as good at fucking as I was at killing. Your best protegee. You said you had such great expectations. You knew I’d offer, you set me up from the start. You knew I’d go after you, you knew I wanted you to lo-” He bit his tongue, bile rushing up his throat.
He was breathing hard; he was on his feet, the chair upturned on the floor.
And Romulus was just looking up at him, mildly interested, smiling, smiling, the bastard, the monster.
Akihiro yanked the prison uniform, pulling up the bastard, buttons flying. “Admit it. Admit you abused me!”
He saw red, oh, he wanted to coat his claws with the monster’s blood. He wanted an answer, he wanted to beat it out of Romulus -
No. No.
Rage accomplished nothing. This was what Romulus wanted: to push him off kilter, to hurt him again. To score a fucking point. To watch Akihiro debase himself and delight in it.
There was no need to hear Romulus say it. Akihiro knew what had happened. He knew that he’d survived, he was strong, he was better. He knew what Romulus was.
He didn’t need his abuser’s confession.
He let go of Romulus; the monster hit hard the bed and winced in pain. Small victories.
Big, big victories.
Akihiro stared down at the monster. He was powerful. He was in control. He was a survivor. He had a family. He had people who loved him.
He wasn’t alone anymore.
“I’m not yours.” He took a breath, another. “I’ve never been.” He lay a hand on the monster’s bare chest, the threat of his claws clear. “I could kill you. I choose not to. You’re that unimportant. I’m free of you.”
“No, you aren’t killing me because I control your people,” Romulus pointed out, arrogant. “Because you’re afraid. Because you’re governed by instincts.”
“Yes. It’s not a bad thing.” It wasn’t. He cared. He had others who cared about him. Soon the X-Men would storm the room with a solution.
And then Romulus smiled, showing his fangs. He didn’t smell afraid, he smelt victorious.
“You’re so adamant you’re your own man,” he said, idly. “Why, then, did you let others take control of you?”
“I haven’t. You wouldn't understand.” The smile was distracting, unease creeping its way into Akihiro, but the monster was just trying to unsettle him.
“Oh, I’m not talking about your so-called family.” Romulus raised an eyebrow. “I’m talking about that fascinating thing you didn’t bother to properly deactivate. That thing inside you.”
Akihiro’s blood run cold. He felt cold all over, in truth, freezing. The Seed. The Death Seed.
“It’s under control.” Drake had taken care of it. He’d frozen it –
“Is it?” Romulus cocked his head. “Look at your hand, Daken.”
Akihiro looked away from the monster’s face. His hand, there on the monster’s chest, was blue.
His hand was blue.
He stepped away, something pulling… pulling. A void. The void. Death, whispering. Death to all –
No. No.
Yes. Death. Death and destruction. Destruction to all –
“You shouldn’t have touched me,” Romulus was saying. Pleased with himself. He’d awaken the Seed. Somehow, somehow, by being touched he’d awaken the Seed, tendrils slithering, whispering, pulling. He leered. “But you never could quite help it, could you, my boy?”
He wasn’t Romulus’ boy. He was his own man –
Death –
Freezing cold. Drake was in the room with them, attempting his old trick. But it couldn't work twice. Death couldn’t be deceived. He threw an arm out, shooting out a claw; he smelt Drake’s blood as it struck true.
Then there was a slick smell he had battled before, something coiling to strike him. And he felt things forming in defense, things coming out of his back, porous growths protruding from his flesh and going out at speed. And he heard curses, scent of blood.
He was trapped inside himself, and he was hurting those around him.
“Harken to your master,” Romulus said. No, no, this couldn’t be happening… “Free me. Kill the X-Men. And then we’ll pay a visit to my dear sister.” Yes. Death, death to all. No. No. No… “Kill your mother first.”
With a howl Akihiro grabbed Romulus’ throat. Pushing Death away, away, away. Romulus thrashed, the power dampener crushing his trachea as he used to crush Akihiro’s. His eyes wild, disbelieving, he couldn't understand what he’d done wrong.
Of course he didn’t.
“You shouldn’t have led with that,” Akihiro snarled.
Cries around them. The telepaths in distress. His sister too. Romulus was trying to gain the upper hand by hurting them.
“Free them all,” Akihiro ordered, the monster flailing, gasping for breath. “Free them from your hold!”
“I’m your master -” Pitiful, pitiful attempt.
“You’re not my master.” Akihiro pushed, pushed until Romulus relented – until he could hear movement, curses, his sister breathing normally. She and the telepaths, free at last.
He’d almost fallen. He’d almost destroyed everything. Romulus had almost made him do that, taking control for a split second. As if Akihiro was still that little child. He’d dared to try and control Akihiro again.
No more. No more.
Akihiro kept pushing down. Choking Romulus. He was his own man. He was his own man.
Akihiro, it’s over, it’s all right… Grey was attempting to reach him. He shoved her presence away.
He unsheathed his claws, blood hitting his nostrils. The monster’s blood.
Death. Yesssss. Death. Pulling him in, in, in, tendrils caressing him. When he spoke, he couldn’t recognize his voice. He wasn’t. The only solution was total annihilation. “Death has no master.”
He pulled his claws from the pathetic thing that had tried to order Death around. He turned, saw himself in the mirror. Tall and deadly, a thing of beauty, his eyes red. He saw Drake bleeding by the door, Colossus in front of him in metal form. He saw all the X-Men ready to face him.
He snarled. His claws were out. Death to all, to all. Kill them all. Murder everyone, everyone -
No. No. Gabby was here, and Zach, he had to keep them safe, he had to keep them safe -
He swayed, uncertainty tearing at him. Grim faces around him.
“Akihiro.” Grey, stumbling towards him. “I know you’re in there. Fight it.”
“Akihiro.” Lorna, her lips a thin line. “Come on, you’re stronger than that shit.”
“Akihiro.” His sister, holding herself upright, pale, shaking. “I’m here. I love you, brother.”
“Akihiro.” His mother, coming into the room, nothing but love in her eyes. “Akira. My son. Come back to me.”
“Akihiro.” Johnny. Johnny, oh, Johnny. Shining bright. He loved him so. “Aki. I know you won’t lose yourself.”
It screamed. Oh, it screamed, it pulled him. It yanked at him, it wanted blood. It wanted Death. Death to all.
But Akihiro was stronger now. He wasn’t alone anymore.
“Flame on,” he urged. He saw the love, the aching love before Johnny obeyed without question, the flames taking over. Bright white-hot eyes watched him as he approached the pillar of fire, the man he loved, the man who could always bring him back. “Do you trust me?”
“Always.” No hesitation, no stumble at all. Just unending loyalty and a love that shook him to the core. Akihiro saw himself reflected in the mirror, blue-skinned like a dead thing, a monster.
But he could live now. He was living. “Then burn it. Burn it away from me.”
He took Johnny's hand and pressed it against himself – there where the Seed was pulsing, frantic, afraid. Cold could put to sleep, but fire… fire cleanses all.
Johnny searched Akihiro’s gaze. “Aki, I don’t want to hurt you -”
“I trust you. Do it.”
Johnny did. It burnt, oh, his touch burnt, first where the Seed lay and then it took him, the fire, it spread in him, fast and hot, every nerve in him burnt, agonizing, but Akihiro could sustain it. He was a survivor.
He screamed, there in Johnny's arms, and knew no more.
Notes:
Next:The twins.
.
[Comments give me juice to keep writing ^-^ This story is really tough to write and it takes a lot of energy; please consider supporting me with a little comment ^-^ ]
Chapter 55: The twins.
Chapter Text
55.
Help came when it was all over.
The Scarlet Witch, Wanda Maximoff, materialized in the middle of the room, in the middle of the chaos. She whirled around, wide-eyed, taking stock of their appearance, their various state of disarray… The telepaths pale and shaking on the floor, Iceman and Jimmy bleeding, Jimmy not wholly healed yet. And Akihiro a charred, unconscious form in Johnny’s arms.
Laura was leaning against the wall, breathless, aching all over, unable to even crawl towards her brother. What had happened to awake Akihiro’s Death Seed while they were trapped in Romulus’ mind?
She knew what had happened inside it. The monster had dragged Laura into her worst nightmares, making her relive the days of the Facility. He probably had done the same to all the telepaths. Even if she knew, at the back of her mind, that it was just an illusion, that she was actually at the school, in a cell, trapped by Romulus, his torture had felt real enough. She could still feel the cut of surgical blades diving into her flesh. She suppressed a shudder. Jean had barged into the memories at some point, taking Laura with her, and they’d hidden in a small pocket that all telepaths were somehow maintaining, all of them looking worse for wear. There were even other telepaths, who’d been called to help when Laura’s group had fallen. All shaking with effort as they kept the safe bubble in place. Laura had never felt more useless.
“Shit, Wanda, it took you long enough,” Lorna snarled, white-faced and trembling. Maximoff grimaced.
“I’m sorry, I was doing an exorcism. Do you still need -?”
“Here.” While her fellow telepaths were heaving on the floor, Jean was keeping herself upright by sheer force of will, standing right by Romulus; a fountain of blood was spraying from the monster, Hank hastily working on the wound. “Can you unmake this… person’s powers, Wanda? All of them?”
Wanda started. It was a dangerous request to make, in a room with at least some mutants who’d been depowered by her. But no one said a word – every single one of the X-Men in the room pale and grim.
No one save Lorna. “We’re keeping him alive?” she snapped.
“We have to.” Jean grimaced. “We didn’t manage to see clearly, but he knows Remus’ hideouts. It’s our only chance. We need him to live in order to check again.”
“Do you know – do you have any idea -” Lorna spluttered. Kurt was the closest to her, and he put a hand on her arm. He, too, was pale.
Jean bowed her head. “I do. But it’s necessary. And if a Seed-possessed Akihiro didn’t kill him outright, Lorna, then he didn’t want to. Wanda, can you do it or not?”
Maximoff nodded and approached the trio by the metal bed. Her sister cursed and went to Akihiro’s side. Laura should do it too. But she couldn’t move.
What had happened?
Itsu stood by the door, a shaking fist closed around a blade, her gaze fixed on Romulus. Hate in her eyes. Romulus must have done something to Akihiro, that much was clear.
But he’d… retained himself. He’d fought. And then he’d asked Johnny to… to burn the Seed away. His screams would haunt Laura for a while. They would certainly haunt Johnny, who was cradling her brother to his chest with a devastated expression, kissing gently every inch of slowly healing skin. Akihiro was breathing… He should be all right.
Physically, at least.
“Done. He’s just a man now.” Maximoff stepped away from Romulus. Hank removed the collar, now free to treat the gash in the monster’s neck.
“Thank you. And… Could you check if the Death Seed is gone from him?” Jean gestured at Akihiro, then finally slid to the floor, exhausted, and caught Braddock’s hand. Braddock squeezed weakly her partner’s hand.
A little to the side, Frost was cradling her head, the Cuckoos whimpering beside her. Rachel was crying.
Romulus had done a number on them all; it had taken all the combined telepaths’ might to protect themselves and Laura from the brunt of it, but they still hurt. Laura had felt like this few horrific times in her life. She felt like a young clone again, subject to Kimura’s moods.
Still, she’d survived. She was safe now, and strong.
Maximoff approached Akihiro, moving her hands in an incantation. She paused, a furrow in her brow. “Wait… Is that Daken?”
“His name is Akihiro,” Johnny said tiredly but fiercely – his voice drowned out by quite a few, equally protective, repeats of the same statement from the unharmed X-Men, Lorna included. That shook Itsu from her stupor, and she, too, finally knelt by her son’s side, Romulus forgotten.
“Huh, sorry.” Maximoff glanced around, clearly taken aback. She resumed her incantation and then hummed, her eyes vacant. “This is quite crude work. Let me see -” A pause. Laura held her breath; she wasn’t the only one doing so. They’d thought the Seed dormant. Akihiro must have felt so helpless, feeling it take over. “It’s gone, yes.”
Relief washed over Laura.
“Oh, thank fuck.” Iceman winced from his place on the floor while Remy bandaged his shoulder, a long bone claw embedded in it. He must have tried to put the Seed to sleep again and the Seed had reacted – just barely missing any vitals. There were many claw-like long bones scattered on the floor, a few of them crimson with blood; at least some of them had gotten into Jimmy. Bobby grimaced. “Shit. I’m really sorry. I thought I managed -”
“We all did, cut it out,” Johnny interrupted him, with a good amount of repressed fury. He was gently rocking Akihiro, and then he looked down at him with ferocious affection. “Is he gonna be all right?”
Jean rubbed at her eyes. “He will be. I’ll make sure of it. Take him to your room, Johnny. Stay with him.” She sighed. “I need to rest a bit, then I’ll get a read of Romulus’ mind. The rest of you, get ready to lift off as soon as I get a place.”
Pryde, who was tending to her partner, looked up sharply. “That bad?”
Jean grimaced. “We got a disturbing glimpse into Remus’ motives. It’s all right, I’ll find the location quickly. Wanda, could you stand by? We might need your help.” When Maximoff nodded, Jean glanced at Laura. “And you need some rest.”
Laura shook her head. “I’m coming with you.”
“I know. That’s why I told you to rest.” Jean attempted to move and winced. “Go. I promise, we won’t leave without you.”
Remy hastened to Laura’s side. Despite her protests, he lifted her in his arms and left. Laura managed just a quick last glance at her brother, his head tucked against Johnny’s chest as the man stood up to take him away.
“What happened, Remy?” she questioned. He grimaced and avoided her gaze as he climbed the stairs, seemingly bent on not answering. “Remy, tell me.”
“Bad things, petite.”
He told her. When even the new telepaths had fallen, Romulus had threatened the very life of everyone he was holding hostage, and he’d demanded Akihiro’s presence. Akihiro had finally relented, going into the cell alone.
“You let him?” she snarled, yanking weakly at Remy’s shirt.
“We didn’t know what else to do.” He smelled so ashamed as he navigated the corridors; Laura ignored the few students they encountered, focusing on his tale.
The X-Men had done their best to ignore what was being said in the cell, only a few standing by in case something happened while the rest frantically put up a plan to stop Romulus; Johnny and Itsu had been glued to the mirror. Then Akihiro had started screaming all his pain, Romulus finally having managed to get under his skin.
Remy grimaced. “I don't think he even remembered we were there. It was… bad. Do you know what the monstre did?”
“I know enough,” she hastened to say, warding off any well-meaning attempts at sharing her brother’s secrets. Damn it all, Akihiro wouldn’t like this. He wouldn’t like people knowing what he’d suffered. He was opening up and it was a miracle, but this was too big and too soon. She hoped he wouldn’t retreat into a shell. “What about the Death Seed?”
Remy wasn’t sure. Akihiro had calmed down and laid claim to his independence, but then he’d turned blue. He’d seemed in pain, struggling to stay in control. He’d attacked Iceman then, and Jimmy after that. He’d only resurfaced when Romulus had made the mistake of ordering him to kill Itsu, and he’d forced Romulus to free the telepaths and Laura.
The rest, Laura had seen. In fact, it had shaken her to see her brother furiously strangling Romulus, tears running down his cheeks; it had reminded her of her own fight with Kimura, when she’d killed her tormentor. After wounding Romulus, the Seed had taken over… but then Akihiro had fought, coming out victorious.
He’d saved them. He’d saved them all, saved Laura and the telepaths from torments; he’d saved himself, too. Laura was proud of him.
They’d reached Laura’s room. Remy shouldered the door open and placed Laura on the bed. “Try to rest, petite.”
She struggled. She knew she needed to – her body had been through an ordeal, and even her mind was catching up – but this wasn’t over and she couldn’t just sit still. There was Logan, there were Remus’ terrible plans. There was Bellona, taken by that monstress too. “Don’t leave without me.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it.” Remy patted her head.
He was just about to leave when Jubilee and Gabby came to the room.
Gabby flung herself at the bed, though she managed to avoid landing on Laura. “Laura!” She caught Laura’s hand, sniffling quietly. “You look like hell. Did he hurt you?”
“I’m fine,” Laura reassured her, dimly registering that Remy was updating Jubilee by the door. Apparently they’d evacuated the school when Romulus had taken control.
“Bullshit!” Gabby snarled. “What did he do?”
The table where her claws had been coated with adamantium. Her mother, lying lifeless on the snow.
Laura shuddered and pushed the memories away. “I’m fine now, Gabby. It’s all right.”
“You sure?”
“Of course.” She smiled and that was all Gabby needed for the dam to break loose.
“I’m sorry,” Gabby wailed, her face crunching up. “I’m sorry about earlier, I didn’t mean -”
“It’s all right. Come here.” Laura turned to the side, gesturing at her sister to lay down. Gabby curled up against her, still sniffling. “I love you, Gabby. Always tell me when you feel left out, okay? I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay,” Gabby murmured, gazing at her with worry. The door was silently closed and the mattress dipped, Jubilee joining them. She spooned Laura, her arm thrown around Laura’s waist. Gabby seemed to remember something and propped herself up on an elbow. “Wait, what about Akihiro? Is he okay? Was he really possessed?” she asked in a horrified whisper.
Laura frowned. Had news traveled that fast to those staying outside? And yet, Remy had just been telling Jubilee. And Gabby had been too distracted fussing over Laura to hear that.
“It was the boy, Zach.” Jubilee had sensed the question forming in her. Laura half-turned, but Jubilee gently pushed her in position to cuddle her. She eased into it, Jubilee kissing her shoulder. “He sensed it happen. He wanted to go help but Rogue stopped him.”
Zachary. He still cared deeply about her brother, then, despite weeks of therapy, or perhaps because of them. He was bound to go after Akihiro eventually, especially after today; Laura wondered what would come of it.
“So it’s true?” Gabby looked murderous. “He hurt you both! I’m gonna -”
“Let Laura rest,” Jubilee interrupted her, softly but firmly. Laura was glad of it. A stab of panic had taken her at hearing Gabby so bent on going and facing Romulus, even though the monster was tamed now.
Gabby relented and she, too, threw an arm around Laura’s waist. Laura lay between her and Jubilee, cocooned by warmth. “Shogo?” she murmured.
“With Jono. Sleep, Laura.” Jubilee pressed a kiss to Laura’s shoulder. “You’re safe, love. You’re with us.”
Laura closed her eyes. She felt safe, warm. She felt home. Yes, she’d been hurt, but now she was safe. Here, with Jubilee and Gabby. With her family, soon to retrieve its missing members.
She must have fallen asleep, because next she knew she was being gently shaken. The room was still bright; maybe some hours had passed. Jubilee was kneeling on the mattress, already in costume. “It’s time, Laura.”
“I’m ready.” Laura sat up. Gabby was snoring softly, a blanket thrown over her. She’d hate to be left out again. But what if Remus took a hold of her? And yet Laura had just apologized for leaving her out of the loop. Coming to a decision, Laura lay a hand on Gabby’s shoulder. “Gabby.”
Her sister shot straight up. “I’m awake! I’m awake!” She looked around wildly.
Laura moved to grab her spare costume. “We’re getting Remus, Gabby. You want to come?” She changed quickly as her sister sat there, blinking blearily.
“Bell could be there.” Gabby grimaced.
Laura let Jubilee zip her costume. “Yes.”
Gabby hugged her knees. “Akihiro wouldn't like it if I put myself in Remus’ way, right?”
Laura paused, considering. “That’s… possible.”
“Romulus hurt him a lot.” Gabby rested her chin on her knees. “I’ll stay here, okay. I know you’ll find Bell. I’ll be here when she arrives.” She nodded seriously. Laura felt a wild surge of affection. And, if she was honest with herself, relief too.
“I’ll keep you updated.” She bent to kiss her sister’s brow.
She and Jubilee left for the hangar. “That was surprisingly mature,” Jubilee said quietly.
“Yes.” Laura caught her hand. “I’m glad she stayed put. Remus is deranged. She collects women, takes their memories.” She-warriors, Romulus had called them. There might even be some of them, where they were going; Bellona might be one of them. Laura didn’t want Gabby to fight her sister.
“And where does Wolvie factor into this?” Jubilee’s voice was strained.
God. No one had told her? “She wants a… a child with him. An heir. She thinks it will have both their powers.”
“Fuck.” Jubilee paled; she squeezed hard Laura’s hand. “We need to find him.”
“We will.” Laura fought the lump in her throat. She hated to change the subject, but she needed to know. “Jubilee, do you have any news -”
“Your brother’s still unconscious.” Jubilee eased her grip and laced their fingers together. “Johnny’s guarding him with his life. And I think Jean checked, there’s no lingering damage from the possession. He’s just… recuperating.”
“Okay.” Laura took a breath. “Okay.”
Akihiro would hate that they hadn’t waited for him. But he’d understand when Laura explained. Hopefully.
The hangar was a flurry of activity, everyone boarding the jets. Laura spotted Old Logan in the crowd, too, readying himself to come. The man had finally completely recuperated from the adamantium poisoning, and in the last week had been going on their missions around the world, always avoiding Itsu. Laura had thought that this fact finally answered her questions about Itsu’s and Akihiro’s existence in the man’s dimension, but then she’d seen him talk to Itsu when she retrieved her memories; and while Itsu looked tortured enough, he was clearly uncomfortable. Itsu had probably never existed in his dimension; he must simply have thought that it wouldn't be right to flaunt himself in front of her, a living reminder of what she’d lost.
With a last glance at him – he was boarding a jet with Jimmy, her reluctant brother pale and resolute – Laura and Jubilee went in line behind Remy to board another.
Itsu was there. The woman stood tall and proud near the cockpit, her back to the entrance. She was wearing her Kitsune costume, that Laura was sure had been thrown out weeks before. Laura kissed Jubilee and then quickly made her way towards the woman.
Itsu turned slightly when Laura reached her, her profile all sharp lines. “Are you well-rested?” Her hands rested on the kotachi blades at her sides.
Laura nodded, not trusting her voice. She wasn’t quite sure what to tell the woman in front of her, the woman who’d lost so much. Who’d even watched Romulus hurt her newly-found son again and couldn't do anything about it. Laura wasn’t even sure if Akihiro had told her everything before this happened.
“Are you ready to take on Remus?” Itsu’s voice was cold, controlled. She was brimming with fury. This woman, who’d had her entire life taken from her.
Laura tilted her head. “Yes.”
Itsu glanced at her. “The girl isn’t coming? She seemed adamant, earlier.”
Laura crossed her arms, taking it for the change of subject it was. “She decided not to. And it’s just as well; we could have to deal with Remus’ agents.” She paused; Itsu had been one of them. They could have to fight Remus’ victims, the she-warriors carefully kept from each other. Itsu hadn’t known of any other agent, but that didn’t mean that they didn’t exist.
Itsu donned a remote expression. “Doubtful. I was her favorite.” She clenched her jaw. “If she had a private guard, I’d know. I’d have been a part of it.” Itsu’s job had been to go around the world, buying and selling and murdering, and sometimes accompanying Remus. “But it’s possible she picked a small retinue, I suppose. Either way, we’ll find your sister eventually, Laura.”
“I hope so.” Laura eyed the woman, pondering whether to ask. “If we find guards… Will you be able to fight them?”
“Will you be able to fight your sister if she’s there?” Itsu countered, harsh.
Laura nodded grimly. She would, of course; part of the reason why she didn't want Gabby to be there.
Itsu turned fully and gazed at her appreciatively. “We understand each other, you and I. I’ll do what needs to be done.” Her hands clenched, a reflex maybe. “And then I’ll pick up the pieces.”
What she meant exactly, Laura didn’t get to ask; Frost, in diamond form, boarded the plane and barked at them all to take a seat and fasten their seat-belts. Laura complied as Jubilee elbowed her way towards her.
Itsu was gone, seated at the far end of the jet.
“All right!” Frost clapped her hands. Even the lack of emotion she displayed in this form couldn’t hide the signs of exhaustion on her features. “Hold on, because we will go fast.” The jet took off, increasingly picking up speed. Frost stood in the center of the corridor, able to keep her balance due to her form. “Remus has an underground artificial habitat in Uzbekistan. Once we reach the Eurasian landmass, Scarlet Witch will transport us near the target. We’re pretty sure Remus is there, and Logan too; it’s her home, her nest, and she wants Logan’s babies.”
“Jesus Christ,” Rogue muttered. Jubilee gripped Laura’s hand.
“My thoughts exactly.” Frost cocked her head in Rogue’s direction. “Now, no one wants to hear the twins’ sob story, but you need to know what we’re dealing with here. They’re old, several thousands of years old. The parents were Neanderthal, mummy was a mutant. A telepath, strong enough to be a Phoenix host. Possibly the first human host. Yes, that’s probably why they’re so powerful,” she added, since a few people were opening their mouths to speak. “Anyway, daddy dies young, as it happened at the time. And then the twins get taken by the Kree, who at the time were experimenting on humans to make what then will become the Inhumans.” She paused, letting that sink in.
The two crying kids Laura had seen in Romulus’ mind… had they been kids he’d tortured, or had they been him and his sister? Were the twins victims?
“I wouldn’t lose my sleep over this,” Frost said, “given what the Wonder Twins went on to doing.”
It was a circle. Violence and abuse were a circle, and it had to be broken somewhere. Romulus and Remus had ample time to recognize the error of their ways; even though Laura’s heart went out to the little kids they’d once been, the time for second chances was long past.
“Mummy saves the kids, and now they’re stronger, they have pheromone manipulation, super-strength, super-healing. And they’re really interested in helping other people reach their full potential. They don’t see what happened as a violation, but as an enhancement. Mummy keeps them in place, but then she joins this sort of proto-Avengers Initiative led by Odin of Asgard and eventually dies. And so they’re finally free to do whatever the hell they please, namely experiments. They could give Sinister a run for his money. So keep the empathy to a minimum.”
Laura looked around. Grim, set faces. Hard expressions. She didn’t think anyone thought anything good about the twins.
“The fact they’re twins meant that they could also draw from each other’s telepathy,” Frost continued. “Through some tinkering, they made it so that they could draw from other telepaths as well. As you all saw earlier. So all telepaths are sitting out this one.” She gestured at her diamond form, which kept her from using telepathy but also rendered her completely immune to it. “Given I can do this, I’m leading the charge.” She pointed under the seats. “Now, there are Magneto-style helmets for each of you, courtesy of him and Lorna. They should hold, but we’re not sure of Remus’ reach and actual power, so those of you with stronger resistance: keep an eye out for your teammates. The last thing we want is to fight among each other. All clear so far?”
There were murmurs of assent as everyone took out the helmets and wore them. Frost looked around, nodding.
“The plan,” she said when everyone was settled again, “is to get close enough and distract her so that Scarlet Witch can work her magic.”
Jubilee shuddered, likely remembering when she’d lost her powers after M-Day. Laura squeezed her hand.
“Remember that any security we might find could be a mind-wiped innocent. Logan could be mind-wiped too. And remember that if Logan isn’t there, if Bellona Kinney isn’t there, we need Remus alive to interrogate her. Even if we find them both, Remus could still be keeping other mind-wiped women somewhere else, so tone down the righteous fury. Non-letal action only, ladies.” Frost looked around. “Questions?”
There weren’t any. Frost sat by Itsu, the latter holding herself rigidly.
The flight was tense, everyone resolute and silent. After weeks of nothing, this was finally it. But the possibility of Logan not being there still lurked.
No one was much for talking. Laura settled against the seat, held Jubilee’s hand, and waited.
Soon they felt magic wash over them as Maximoff transported the jets to the target. They all lined up as the hatch was opened. They were some miles above ground, in a little valley nested between mountains.
“It’s a long drop,” Frost shouted to be heard over the howl of the wind. “You have the coordinates, Storm will join you with the key!”
Ororo? Laura hadn’t seen her in the hangar, but she hadn’t thought anything of it. She must be in one of the other jets. But how did she have a key?
They jumped, those who could fly taking others with them.
Once they landed Laura recognized the place from Romulus’ memories. They were the last ones; the others had already located the entrance and cleared the bushes. The door in the ground looked and smelt distinctly like vibranium.
Kurt teleported in their midst, Ororo with him. They didn’t smell like they came from a jet. Ororo held a disc in her hand, and she crouched to place it on the metal door.
Frost snorted softly. “Good thing you married the guy, right?”
Ororo made a noncommittal sound and Laura understood. It wasn’t just the door; the entire structure must be of Wakandan design. So Ororo must have gone to Wakanda with Kurt and asked Black Panther for some way to bypass the security and access Remus’ habitat. And then they’d probably hidden in the mountains and waited for the rest of the X-Men to arrive, lest they alerted Remus to their presence.
The disc worked. The door opened, revealing the platform that went down all the way to Remus’ habitat. No alarm sounded, but Remus could still have a way to know if the door was opened. They needed to hurry now.
Ororo got up. “Stand back,” she ordered, her eyes getting white as she called upon her powers. Her jaw was clenched.
Lightning struck, destroying the platform – leaving the structure empty to allow them a faster descent. One by one, they dropped into the shaft.
The descent wasn’t too long. When they reached the ground they filed down a corridor leading to the habitat, still recognizable from Romulus’ memories although it had undergone some changes, mostly the size of the forest, which now occupied most of the area. Ororo wasted no time taking flight to better survey the place.
Laura led the others down the fake mountain. The clearing where Remus had subdued her twin was still there, but now there were buildings too. A small village; an isolated construction near the forest. And – she squinted. She saw three dark specks in the clearing. Where those people…?
An alarmed shout behind her. She turned just in time to avoid Jimmy, covered in black slime and slashing through them all with a crazed expression. Remus had managed to take control of him, or rather, of the symbiote.
Before she could do anything, though, Itsu threw herself between them, emanating a strong cocktail of pheromones that made Laura stumble and the Poison swerve with a shriek.
“Go!” Itsu shouted. “Go, we’ll take care of it!” She, Old Logan, and Colossus converged on Jimmy.
Those that had been closest to Itsu shook off the effect of her pheromones before heading down once more. They moved quickly, because now Remus knew they were there. She was in that clearing, and Laura hoped Logan was one of those specks. She hoped the other was Bellona, but that would be too good to be true.
We’re coming, Logan. Laura broke to a run. We’re coming.
Notes:
Next: Rescue.
.
[I didn’t make that ancient Phoenix up. She appears in Avengers Vol. 8 and when I saw her I thought she was just perfect as parent for Remus and Romulus. I played fast and loose with the timeline, but Inhuman history isn’t too set in stone.
There’s a theory that if the mutation for red hair – which both Remus and the ancient Phoenix sport – was inherited from Neanderthal, it would have been from a Central Asian Neanderthal, perhaps from modern Uzbekistan. Given Romulus’ Russian connections, it seemed a nice little bow.
Comments give me juice to keep writing ^-^ I’d love to hear what you think!]
Chapter 56: Rescue.
Notes:
Additional Warnings: reproductive coercion, mentions of abortion.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
56.
Logan relented.
He had to. For his daughter, for his son. For Itsu. He had to get home, bringing with him information about Beaumont’s existence, perhaps even Beaumont herself if Remus was satisfied. He had to give Itsu her memories, to give Akihiro his mother back. Remus had promised she’d bring Itsu back.
And if he was honest with himself, Logan wanted to see his wife too.
But most of all, he wanted to see Kurt and ‘Ro again. He was selfish like that. He wanted be with them again, to forget about all this agonizing mess. What mattered if, in order to do that, he had to give Remus a child? He’d just try his best to get it back once he was safe.
Shit, Akihiro would probably hate him for this, for Logan leaving his own child, Akihiro’s half-sibling, in Remus’ clutches… but they’d work to get it back. Once Logan was out of this hell.
He had to get out of here.
So he relented. He wasn't proud of it. But he relented.
Remus could be very persuasive. She’d struck a hard bargain and he was pathetic enough, tired enough, desperate enough, to accept. She hadn’t been lying about no one coming to get him. He waited a little more, kept exploring; she let him do that. And help still didn’t come. Everything she’d said that day was true. He had to save himself.
And since violence couldn’t help him – he quite literally couldn't use it – he simply had to do as she asked. It was that simple.
Sometimes – trying to sleep in that damn cabin – he wondered what the hell he was doing, giving in to her. Whenever had he just rolled over for anyone? Was she influencing him? He had no way of knowing if she’d keep her word.
But what else did he have?
So he relented. He demanded vials and, even though she looked affronted that he wouldn’t sleep with her, she brought them to him. Wasn’t that a sign that she was one who kept her word?
He shut himself in the cabin for a day and set out to give her what she asked. He was clinical about it. When simple stimulation didn’t work, because he was in a fucked up situation if there ever was one, he resorted to mechanical fantasies. He kept his partners out of them. He kept anyone he’d ever loved out of them.
Eventually he got the job done.
Remus was satisfied. She collected everything and left, cradling the freezing bag to her chest like a little girl hugging the dolls she got for Christmas.
She left Logan in the Cave, free to do as he pleased. He supposed she wanted to make sure that she’d get pregnant before letting him go.
He ended up hanging out with Beaumont, trying to build a relationship. He couldn’t turn her against Remus, but he could make an ally out of her. He couldn’t tell her that she was his daughter’s brainwashed clone, but he could have a rapport. He had to pick up the small crumbs lying around.
He taught Beaumont to hunt. The game had been returned to the woods, and he’d never gotten to pass this particular knowledge to Laura. Beaumont was more receptive, perhaps because she was programmed to indulge him, but he thought there was a real glint of interest in her eyes. She was taciturn, but an incredibly good tracker. No hyper-senses, but a keen mind. And she was so fast! They sparred sometimes – he wanted to gauge her too, to see what he was dealing with – and she was quick as an arrow, lithe and nimble.
That’s how Remus found them when she finally returned one day; they were locked in combat right in front of the cabin. Logan felt her not-presence and he suppressed a shiver and doubled his efforts, wanting to show the monster that he wasn't taken aback by her. That even if she’d taken his aggression from him, he could still fight.
He ended up fighting dirtier and fiercer, but Beaumont held her own, her teeth bared, her claws sharp.
It ended like it always ended; with a tie. He wondered what would happen if he truly gave it all he had, but he couldn’t bring himself to press like that. It was still his daughter’s face in front of him, haunting his dreams.
Remus slow-clapped as he caught his breath. “All that pent-up anger, Logan. I wonder what would happen if you could lift your hand against me.”
What would happen was that he’d kill her. He’d murder her there where she stood.
“Such fierce foreplay, you got me all aflutter.” A brittle laughter. Logan’s hairs stood on end.
Something was wrong.
He turned to face Remus. She was positively glowing, a ferocious smile on her lips. He obviously couldn’t smell her, but he didn’t need to in order to read that expression. It was far too early to know for sure, but somehow she did.
It had worked. She was pregnant.
Pregnant with his child. Oh, God, what had he done? He’d condemned a child of his to be used, and abused, once again. He’d made a mistake, he’d made the biggest mistake of his life…
“Don’t hyperventilate now, dear. Beaumont, fetch him some water.”
The girl went, probably running to the nearby fake river, leaving them alone. Logan reeled. This had been a mistake. A huge mistake -
Remus’ hands dropped on his shoulders. “You need to stop with this ridiculous attitude.” Logan could hear the irritation in her voice. “I won’t harm my daughter. I’ll take good care of her. She’ll do great things.”
He shook himself. “A daughter?” Far, far too early to know that. But perhaps she was just delusional.
She grinned. “I feel it. A great daughter to continue my mother’s line. I’ll do us proud. Not like that animal,” she snarled, likely referring to Romulus.
Great, she was incredibly in denial. Perhaps she truly saw no difference between what she did and what her twin did. She played with people’s lives as if they were nothing, just the same as him.
Her eyes closed to slits. “It’s different, Logan.”
Honestly, he didn’t care what she thought. Let her tell herself however many lies she wanted.
“If you say so. I did what you wanted, Remus.” He clenched his teeth. Beaumont reappeared and handed him a canteen; Logan smiled at her. “Thank you, darling.” He gulped down some water, then leveled a stare at Remus. “Now let me go.”
“Oh, I don’t think so.” Remus turned as if to leave; he stood there, shaking with fury.
“What?” he snarled.
“The fetus could still die. I need you to stand by.” She circled him, something predatory in her stance. He threw all caution to the wind.
“You’ve got other sperm! Loads of it! Just inject it again!”
“Do you have any idea of how many of my pregnancies terminated, ant?” she snarled, furious, pained. Now he saw her, he saw the agony. “Do you think I amuse myself with this? Do you know how many thousands of years I spent in this pursuit?” She placed a hand on her belly, cupping it gently – a stark contrast to the viciousness of her words, to the ugliness of her features.
Hell, he did feel for her. He’d be a monster not to. But the way she’d decided to go about it, this whole fucking mess – no, he couldn't forgive her.
“I don’t require your forgiveness,” she snapped. “You’ll stay until I say so. Until I have a living heir.”
She’d never had any intention of letting him go. So stupid of him to believe her; but then, she’d probably made it so.
She’d given him no choice at all.
“At least give Itsu her memories,” he tried. He had to at least try. For Itsu, for his boy. For Laura. “Give back Beaumont. I’ll stay for as long as you like.”
“You’ll stay, regardless of what I do.” Remus sneered. “You don’t give me orders, Logan. You’d do well to remember that.”
“I’m just askin’,” he retorted. “I’ll stop complaining. I promise, Remus. Just Itsu and Beaumont.”
“Beaumont is a good servant. Why should I rid myself of her?” The girl in question just stood there, unaware she was being discussed like cattle. “It was enough that I had to give Kitsune away.” Remus curled up her lips, showing her fangs.
Itsu. Her name was Itsu.
“Oh, your obsession is sickening. Wildly amusing, mind you, but sickening all the same. I wonder what sort of menage you want to establish, for you to keep making this demand.” Remus laughed. “You think she’d still want you?”
He wasn’t sickening. Remus was, with her lurid remarks. “I’m taken.”
“But Logan, she’s your wife. You still call her that, in your mind.” Remus waved a hand. “You want to share, is that it? I look forward to see that particular knot untangle – when I decide to let you go, and not before.”
Logan growled. She laughed derisively.
“I don’t see what the problem is, Logan. You’re settling down, it’s obvious. Don’t you like dear Beaumont?”
He didn’t look at Laura’s clone, at her vacant expression. “I do, yes. That’s why I want to bring her home.” To Laura and Gabby. To save her from Remus.
Remus snarled. She seemed about to tear him a new one, but then her head snapped up like a startled deer, her eyes wide. “That’s not possible,” she whispered.
She wasn’t denying his request; she was reacting to something. Something was happening. Something she hadn’t expected. His heart in his throat, not daring to hope, Logan turned to follow her gaze.
Just in time to hear a deafening noise come from the mountains, from an area he had explored already. He started in that direction, but Remus snatched his shoulder, keeping him in place. He looked up at her, at her white features. She’d blanched. She was staring in that direction, her fingers digging into Logan’s flesh.
He grinned. “Something the matter, Remus?”
She shook him, hard. “Shut up! Shut up!” Her voice was shrill, panicked. Flecks of color were swarming a peak, coming down; a black spot rose high and fast in the air.
He’d recognize ’Ro’s flying anywhere.
Logan held his breath, her sight filling him with longing and, too, shame. He’d known they would find him. He should have waited, he should have had faith in them –
His friends had found him.
Remus pushed him behind her so hard he stumbled, her head moving in tiny frantic jerks. “How are they… I can’t…” Then, with a grunt of satisfaction that made Logan’s heart skip a beat, she straightened up. “Got one.”
The dots moved in disarray. She’d done something – she must have taken control of one of the X-Men… but still, they were so much, this was a minor setback at best…
She turned towards him and Beaumont, the girl standing at attention beside him. She stood still, considering, looking at Logan and the girl, a grimace forming on her face. He tried to look behind her, to see how his friends were faring, but she was too massive.
“Beaumont.” Remus’ voice whipped the air. “Logan. You two cover my retreat.”
The girl moved to the side, giving a salute as Remus walked past them. Logan just squinted at her retreating figure, amused. “What, you think I’ll just do it?”
“Oh, I’m not asking.” Remus didn’t even turn to address him; she just kept walking as an urge, a violent command embedded itself in Logan’s mind. He recognized it with dread. He feared he couldn't be able to fight it when his friends came. “Don’t worry, Logan, I’ll keep tabs on you. I’ll take you back if this doesn’t work.” She broke to a run towards the woods.
He screamed in frustration, unable to go after her, to stab her. He turned, and saw dots coming down the mountain, others in the air – they must have seen him, or at least noticed the buildings. He couldn't even turn and hide in the woods. He couldn't shout a warning as they got closer, as he could finally see their faces, Laura among them – their faces shining with joy as they recognized him.
Beaumont unsheathed her claws, ready to take down anyone who came close, anyone who tried to follow Remus. He didn’t, because if he did they’d know he wasn’t in control of himself. Because he had to wait for one to get close enough, trusting, happy to see him, so relieved to have found him, and stab the poor idiot. He couldn't give up the advantage.
God. God.
Laura landed, far from Logan. She went straight for Beaumont, the girl not even wincing at seeing someone with her face coming at her. Logan listened to their fight as he stared up, waiting for some of his friends to drop too… He saw ‘Ro and Kurt in the air, giving him a wide berth with regretful expressions, and then he realized that all X-Men were converging away, past him; none was coming down. They were all going after Remus.
They had realized he was mind-controlled. Or perhaps they’d simply judged there was a high chance of it. Either way, now he had to go after them and protect Remus, but at least they knew what they were dealing with, if this precaution and the helmets they were all wearing were anything to go by -
He turned to give chase, glancing just for a moment at the two girls still fighting – they seemed evenly matched – and then something dropped on him.
Someone.
Kitty grabbed him and, using the momentum, launched the both of them down into the dirt. He tried to lunge, but he was already half-buried in the ground, and she was intangible, and soon he was buried to his neck, only his head out. God, he still remembered murdering Jean-Paul through her, and maybe she remembered too. Pride and abject relief rushed through him, even if they battled with the urge to stab her and free himself and go after the others and protect his mistress -
He bit his tongue hard.
Kitty grimaced, there in front of him, buried with him. “Sorry. Just covering our bases.”
And then Logan opened his mouth and spoke against his will, dread filling his veins. “I get it, kid, but it’s me. Let me go.” He sounded so reasonable. So himself. Anyone would believe it -
But Kitty wasn’t anyone. “No, Logan. Wait just a bit, okay? We’re taking her down. Trust us.”
Perhaps he was linked with Remus and she was listening in, or perhaps he could still outwit Kitty and go protect Remus. He kept talking, screaming inside. “What’s the plan? Talk me through it.”
Kitty clenched her jaw. “No, Logan.”
God, at least they knew what they were dealing with. They’d come prepared. Thank God.
And yet, he realized when a sharp metallic taste filled his mouth, his teeth driving hard into his tongue, ‘protect Remus’ meant distract the X-Men, too. What better way to distract, than by putting his own life in danger? He risked suffocation, his blood surging down his throat, and Kitty widened her eyes, panicked.
“Laura!” she called, “Wrap it up! I need you here!” She pushed Logan a bit higher, pulling his neck and part of his chest above ground, and bent his head to try and clear his airway. But he was struggling, fighting her, and she could either free him or let him die in front of her. She knew he’d heal, but did she have it in her to watch him choke to death?
The sounds of Laura’s fight with Beaumont, which had faded to the background, came near. Sharp grunts and the clang of steel on steel, of claws against claws. “Don’t free him,” Laura gasped, “Give me a moment -”
“Shit, Laura, do you need help?” Kitty said incredulously.
A shouted “Don’t worry!” was the only answer as the sounds got away again; he couldn't focus on what exactly was happening, as he was currently trashing about and dying, Kitty still keeping him down, her breathing erratic as she cursed. She was a moment away from taking her chances and pulling him all the way up -
But then he was hit by an onslaught, a sense of relaxation so harsh, so obviously unnatural, that nausea took him even as his body obeyed. He slumped in Kitty’s arms, and she easily redirected him so that the blood could trail out of his throat as he healed.
Whatever it was, it was countering his need to protect Remus, to follow the monster’s orders. And perhaps she was too occupied with the X-Men to force him to fight back. He rested his head on the ground and gave in to the impulse.
“Huh, that’s handy,” Kitty slurred. “Thanks.” There was someone with them now, it had been someone’s work. Pheromones, maybe? Akihiro? But Logan couldn’t smell his son; he didn’t smell anything, completely overcome. Kitty stroked Logan’s hair. “It’s all right, Logan, it will be over soon.”
God, fuck, he hoped so. There was a lull of silence where the only noise came from Laura’s fight. Kitty didn’t sound worried, so his daughter was probably winning -
Shit. Laura didn’t remember Beaumont, did she? She could seriously harm the girl and then she’d never forgive herself! Logan struggled weakly. “It’s her sister,” he managed to mumble. “It’s Gabby’s sister, tell Laura -”
“We know.” Kitty patted his head. “We know everything, Logan, don’t worry. Remus is going down.”
They knew everything? Relief washed over him; but how? Had he been right to hope in the beginning of his captivity, then, and Remus had forgotten to wipe away some trail?
“How’s Jimmy?” Kitty asked, and when he heard the answer Logan realized who was silently standing by, who exactly had overwhelmed him with that onslaught of calming pheromones.
It was her voice; Itsu’s. God, still the same voice, after decades. The feed Hank had retrieved from that facility was disturbed and he hadn’t realized, he hadn’t noticed. But hearing her now, it was like coming back to the tranquil valley where he’d once sought out to heal. “The boy’s down. The Russian’s ready to punch him again if he stirs.”
So Jimmy was the one Remus had taken control of, earlier, him and his symbiote, and at least Piotr and Itsu had stayed behind to fight him while the others went after Remus…
Itsu was here, working with the X-Men. God, Itsu. Remus’ favorite, her memories locked. Did she know who Logan was? Perhaps Remus had been wrong in her sadistic conviction that the X-Men would never retrieve Itsu’s memories. Perhaps this woman didn’t think her name was Kitsune, but knew it was Itsu.
“Okay.” Kitty cleared her throat. “I think I can handle Logan now. Remus went that way, if you want –”
“My thanks,” Itsu said, “But I’ll stay here.” There was a trembling thread of fury in her voice, a hint of violence barely held back.
“Sure. No prob.” Kitty sounded unsure, walking on eggshells perhaps. “Are you -”
“Bellona’s down,” Itsu interrupted her with something Kitty could obviously see for herself. Bellona must be Beaumont’s real name. And Itsu quite clearly wasn’t ‘all right’. “Bring her here, Laura!” she called out – at ease with Logan’s friends, with Logan’s family. He was glad of it. “I’ll keep her sedated.”
Logan would give anything to raise his head and see what was happening, to see his wife again. But her pheromone manipulation was damn strong. The power he’d never noticed she had. Why lie to him, at Jasmine Falls? He wanted to ask her. He wanted to see her alive and whole.
Was their son with Jimmy? Or was he with the others, tracking Remus down, confronting her?
He heard dragging sounds, getting nearer and nearer. Laura was bringing her sister to Itsu, as asked. He hoped the girl would be fine. God, he ached to see his daughter.
“Hey, Logan,” Laura said, very softly. His chest ached. “It’s almost over.”
“Remus won’t hurt you anymore,” Itsu said, so very softly, and Logan was seized by such aching nostalgia that he managed to push himself past the muzzling cocoon enveloping him. By sheer force of will he propped himself up on his elbows, and raised his head a bit.
Itsu was radiant. She wore the white costume she’d worn in the feed, when she’d killed Roston on Remus’ orders. Her features were set, imperious, terribly intense. They softened a bit, as he gazed at her.
She lived.
He sobbed, loud and unrestrained. Laura knelt by him, and she rubbed a hand on his shoulder. Itsu crouched in front of him, so he didn’t have to strain his neck. “Hello, husband.”
He couldn't speak. He was so relieved, so overcome by the weight of what was right in front of him. Remus’ words hadn’t prepared him for this – for the sight of his wife, alive. It was a miracle.
Laura stroked his back. “You aren’t surprised to see her,” she said with a grimace.
“Remus told you, didn’t she?” Itsu cocked her head, her jaw tight. “She tortured you so.”
“… Itsu,” he managed to choke out.
She nodded, a palm pressed to her heart. “Yes, that’s me.”
“You remember?” Remus had lied, then. Or perhaps she’d underestimated his friends’ powers. She’d sounded so sure, but then she didn’t know Jeannie, and Betsy, and the others.
Itsu smiled. “All thanks to your X-Men.”
God, he should have held on. He shouldn’t have relented so easily. How could he?
At least it wasn’t too late. His friends were here now. They’d defeat her. He’d take everything back. His child, too.
Unless they killed her. It could happen, couldn't it? Remus could offer them no other choice. Feeling nauseous, he turned towards Kitty. “Keep Remus alive,” he begged, bile rushing up his throat at what he was asking. “She has something… she has something that belongs to me.”
God, but he was ashamed. How could he say what had happened? The stench of tears and regret as he filled vial after vial for her? The only thing he could do to get back home, to get everyone back home. And he hadn’t needed to; if he’d just held on for a couple of days, if he’d just waited…
Kitty paled. “Yes, that’s the plan. Logan, did she -”
“Logan!” It was ’Ro’s voice, coming from above. High and so filled with relief, with love, that he could only sob again. She landed and fell to her knees by his side, grabbed his hand. “Oh, Logan. I’m here. We’re here.”
“’Ro.” With some difficulty he turned to see her, rolling to his side. Her face was pinched, tears of happiness streaking down her cheeks. She removed her helmet, let it roll on the ground. “You’re here.” He clung to her hand and looked around for Kurt too.
“I’m here.” She smiled, her teeth pearl-white, her lips tilted a bit downwards, her happiness tainted. “Goddess, Logan. It’s all right. It’s over.” She squeezed his hand. “I promise.”
A bamf and he smelled brimstone and Kurt was here too, helmet-free. He squatted beside ’Ro, his hand joining theirs, clutching tight, his yellow eyes bright with tears. “Ach, mein Herz. Geliebter. Logan,” he mumbled, rocking back and forth. My heart, my love.
“Elf,” Logan choked out. “You’re here, you’re here…” Kurt nodded frantically. His other hand was gripping ’Ro’s free hand, the two of them brought closer by their grief, their relief. Their weeks without him must have been just as hard for them as they were for him. Logan pulled himself up as much as he could, and they hoisted him closer so they could all huddle together.
Logan registered faintly that Laura’s hand was still on his shoulder, warm and comforting; and Kitty had moved to give them some space. He couldn't register Itsu’s presence anymore, but the oppressive cloud of her pheromones was thinning out. And he didn’t feel any lingering effect of Remus’ order; he wasn’t itching to fight.
Remus’ hold on him must have been vanquished, dissipated.
They’d defeated her. It was over.
He could hear there were others arriving; his friends. His family. Jubilee, shouting “Wolvie!” and bursting out crying, and Laura letting go of him to comfort her partner. Rogue, and Gambit, and Hank, and all the others. There was Old Logan too; his old counterpart nodded at him from afar with a grave expression.
Logan was unceremoniously checked by Emma Frost and pronounced clean of Remus’ influence (‘Don’t you dare push this under a carpet,’ she said in his mind, to his confusion), and then Kitty was dragging him out of the ground and there was a vortex of hugs, tears, cries of joy, Kurt and ’Ro glued to his side, constantly touching him and kissing him. He leaned against them, overwhelmed, and watched his friends, his family, come for him, come to save him.
He still hadn’t seen Akihiro. He hadn’t expected a tearful reunion, his son wasn’t the type; but it stung a little. Logan looked for him first by Laura’s side, but he wasn’t there; then he looked for Itsu, seated by Bellona’s unconscious form, likely keeping her that way. Itsu looked untouched by anything, remote, although she watched the celebration with a faint smile. Frost sat with her, perhaps trying to ascertain if Bellona was free of Remus’ influence. But Akihiro wasn’t with his mother, either.
Come to think of it, where were Jeannie and the others? With Jimmy, he’d have thought, since the boy and Colossus weren’t here, but it wasn’t possible that it had taken so many of them to stop the symbiote.
Perhaps they were all with Remus. His son, taking care of her for Logan’s sake. Logan suppressed a smile and tilted his head towards Kurt; his elf had regained some color, his cheeks rounded by laughter. Logan’s heart swelled.
“How did ye find me?” he asked, squeezing both their hands. “What did you do to her?”
“We took away all her powers,” ‘Ro said viciously. Kurt lay a soothing hand on her arm. Logan stood, dumbstruck.
“We asked Wanda to unmake them,” Kurt explained softly. “The plan was to attack Remus, distract her so she wouldn't notice Wanda’s presence. It was over soon.”
“Huh.” Logan looked around. It felt a whole lot like raging comeuppance. He was glad the monster was muzzled. “Where are we taking her? She has…” He swallowed. God, he had to tell them. He shut his eyes and took a deep breath. “She has my genetic material hidden somewhere. We have to retrieve it. And she’s… she’s pregnant. With my child.”
“Oh, Logan.” Kurt embraced him tightly. “We suspected it was her plan. I’m so sorry we didn’t find you sooner.”
“No, it’s all right,” he protested, clutching at his elf.
“Did she hurt you?” ’Ro squeezed his shoulder, laying her head against the other. The contact, their contact, being held by the both of them… it helped. He felt grounded. ‘Ro held her breath. “Did she -”
“Not really,” he reassured them. She hadn’t. She’d been a monster, but she hadn’t harmed him. “She just wanted my sperm, she didn’t care how. She didn’t force me or anythin’. She just said she’d keep me here until I didn’t give in and she was so sure she’d covered all her traces, and you weren’t coming,” he choked out, wincing at how accusatory that sounded. “She controlled everything I did, I’m not even sure I decided to give in, or if it was her. I couldn't even fight her. But it wasn’t… she didn’t… I didn’t sleep with her… she brought me vials… I had to –” His voice gave out.
He was shaking. That was new. His partners tensed, then relaxed, holding him and stroking him through his fit. The others were giving them a wide berth, giving them privacy, looking and smelling so damn shocked and angry and saddened. Laura looked devastated, the poor thing. He couldn’t bear it. He tuned them all out.
“It wasn’t your fault, Logan,” Kurt murmured.
“I’m sorry,” whispered ’Ro, over and over again. “I’m so sorry, Logan.”
“It’s all right,” he repeated stupidly. He’d been through fucking worse. He’d been tortured, for God’s sake, this was nothing. He’d been killed and revived and used so many times. He’d been made to kill friends, even. This shit had been the tamest, so far. “I’m fine. You’re here. She’s down. It’s all right.”
“Ach, mein Freund,” Kurt mumbled. He and ’Ro held Logan tightly. It was nice to stay like this, to cling to them, to smell them and take comfort in their presence, but they needed this much more than him. It was over now. He was fine.
In the distance he heard Frost curse, something so vile, the likes of which he’d never heard from her posh mouth. That might not have anything to do with him, but then Itsu screamed.
“Iie! Iie! Iie!” she just kept screaming and screaming, shrill.
Dread filling his veins, Logan extricated himself from his partners’ embrace to survey the scene, his friends converging towards the two women. Frost stood, her back to them all, focused on the woods. Itsu was white, her features contorted, her eyes wide. He’d never seen her like this, completely out of control. Bellona seemed to be breathing, so then what had happened? He felt his heart in his throat. Was it Akihiro, had something happened to him, had Remus lashed out and hurt him?
He got his answer when Wanda stumbled out of the woods and into the clearing, a nasty bruise on her neck.
“He took me by surprise,” she gasped, breathless. “I can’t find them -”
“Who?” Kitty was surging towards her. Logan stood with his partners, clutching their hands. Akihiro, Remus had taken Akihiro, it must be -
Wanda’s eyes locked on Logan… not quite. Beside him: she was looking at Kurt. “Azazel,” she spat as Kitty threw an arm around her waist to support her. Kurt started badly at the mention of his father’s name. “He rescued her. He rescued Remus.” She shut her eyes. “They’re gone. I can’t find them.”
‘I have my methods, son of Azazel,’ Remus had told Kurt, months ago. They hadn’t thought much of it, but evidently she knew the demon. And he’d been a contingency plan.
So now Remus was human and pissed and she had an ally. And she had Logan’s sperm stored somewhere, and she had his unborn baby. A mass of cells for now, but then it would grow in her womb, and she’d have it, and she’d raise it, and all this shit would begin anew – another Akihiro, another child that would suffer at the twins’ hands.
And where was his son? With Jimmy, maybe?
“Okay, it’s all right,” Frost was saying. “We’ll get back to the mansion, use Cerebro. She can’t escape now. We’ll find her. Itsu, Logan, I promise you, we’ll find her.”
Itsu stopped screaming. She whirled around to look at Logan, her gaze wild. “Did she hurt you, husband?” she questioned, fierce, as if no one else was around them. Just the two of them, like ages ago.
Logan squeezed his partners’ hands and shook his head. “Not really. No. Did she… did she hurt you, Itsu?” God, he couldn't bear it. He couldn't imagine the life she’d led at Remus’ orders… her favorite, her most brilliant servant.
Her gaze darkened. “She made me kill,” she said in Japanese. He couldn't imagine the composed woman he’d married being forced to kill, to be a murderer. Raised in a pacifist village, he could only imagine how much that would hurt her. “She makes me want to kill her, husband. I hate her for what she did to me! For what she did to you. For what her brother did to our son.” Her features contorted. “If your friends can’t find her, you and I will go hunting and exact justice of our own.”
Just a handful of people understood what was being said. But one didn’t need to know the language to know that she was gunning for blood. That she was asking Logan to join her.
And months ago he’d forsworn solo missions. He was learning to rely on others even for this kind of thing, and he didn’t want to worry those who cared about him. His partners were tense, beside him. They understood what she’d just asked. They could feel it in the rigid way Logan was holding himself. Anyone else, he’d have turned down for their sake. But this?
How could he deny the mother of his son? The woman who’d lost so much, because of Logan? Remus had said that she and Romulus had discovered Itsu’s existence when Logan had found Jasmine Falls. All that had happened was his fault. He could make amends.
He owed it to Itsu.
Frost put herself between them. “No one’s avenging anything and no one is at fault. Itsu, we talked about this,” she said reasonably, almost gently. Itsu looked away, appearing ashamed. Frost turned to address Logan. “And you… the only thing you’re going to do is rest. Indefinitely.” She cocked an eyebrow. “Let us work. We will find her.”
Kitty nodded. “Yes, Logan. Leave it to us.”
Kurt and ’Ro squeezed his hands pleadingly. He was torn, exhausted, and high-strung. He was angry. He was relieved.
He relented.
But as they all quickly made their way to the jets, leaving the Cave behind, he saw that Akihiro wasn’t with Jimmy either – Jimmy, his other son who didn’t want to be his son, unconscious and strapped to a gurney.
It struck him as strange, that Akihiro wouldn't be here, and when he finally sat down in a jet, flanked by his partners, his head on Kurt’s shoulder, ’Ro’s arm curled around him protectively, and Laura sat with Jubilee at his feet, he finally managed to ask.
The answer was as vague as possible: he’d stayed behind for unspecified reasons. Logan looked down at Laura then, and she grimaced.
“A flare-up of the Death Seed,” she explained evasively. “It’s all right now, but it was better if he rested.”
Still too nebulous, and an undercurrent of uneasiness besides; they were hiding something from him. Why had this flare-up happened?
Itsu didn’t answer, either; she’d sat herself away from him, and she only said: “Akira will be fine,” with such fierce resolution.
He supposed they didn’t want to overwhelm him with whatever had happened, so soon after his rescue. He could appreciate the sentiment. But he’d demand to see Akihiro as soon as they got back.
He ached to ask Itsu about their son; he wanted to know if she loved him and was proud of him as much as Logan, if she saw herself in him the way Logan had always starkly seen; but her expression fended off any questions.
She was sitting rigidly, her white-knuckled fists resting in her lap; her fiery gaze rested on him only for a moment and then she was looking away, but as exhausted as he was, he still managed to see the question in her eyes, the furious plea.
There was no peace in her anymore.
There was nothing for it. He couldn’t just leave her hanging. If the X-Men didn’t find Remus…
He’d go hunting with his wife.
Notes:
Next: Healing.
.
[Finally rescued! Are you glad? Of course, he immediately wants to throw himself at things to avoid facing what happened.
Comments give me juice to keep writing ^-^ I’d love to hear what you think!]
Chapter 57: Healing.
Chapter Text
57.
Akihiro was enveloped by warm safety.
He lay on his back, cocooned by a nest of blankets, an additional comforting weight across his belly. He blinked in the bleary grey light before the dawn, shadows dancing on the walls. There was a faint scent of burnt skin, as it came from Johnny some nights. And heavy breathing beside him, the rhythm of which he’d learnt to fall asleep and awake to. A surge of tenderness took him, so stark, so fierce.
Johnny lay over the covers, an arm thrown around Akihiro’s waist, fast asleep; he wore day clothes, his phone forgotten between the two of them, the other hand curled against his chest. He looked exhausted, deep lines on his forehead. Lines of worry.
With that realization came the memories, a realignment of the reality around him. The telepaths and Laura, Romulus… God, Romulus. Then the Death Seed. How he’d pushed back against the thing, bent on ridding himself of the monstrous Seed once and for all; and then he’d asked Johnny to help, to burn him.
If he was in his room, with Johnny, completely unattended, instead than in McCoy’s lab, that should mean that the burning had worked, and he was safe to be around… But damn him if he exposed Johnny to the danger of a reactivated Seed. He couldn't feel it, but that didn’t mean anything.
So Akihiro called out in his mind for Grey, hoping she was up to the task. The last time he’d seen her she was so weak after Romulus’ attack that he’d managed to fend her off easily.
She’s sleeping, came the reply. It was Summers’ voice. I’m glad you woke up.
The Seed, he asked immediately, pleasantries be damned. Is it -
Completely gone, Summers said. He felt a hint of uneasiness in her. We made absolutely sure this time. I’m really sorry, Akihiro.
Abject relief took him. He eased himself against the mattress, taking a few centering breaths, trying to be as much silent as possible. He didn’t want to wake Johnny.
Johnny must have stood guard at Akihiro’s side until he passed out from sheer exhaustion. He even wore the same clothes that he’d worn in the cell; he smelt distinctly unkempt.
Akihiro grimaced. How long was I under?
Not that long, Summers reassured him. Fifteen hours, maybe.
Just the day before, then. It had all happened the day before. It was all so surreal. He recalled the screaming. His own – God, he’d screamed so much – but the telepaths’ too, trapped in whatever hell Romulus had put them into. What about Laura? Was she all right? And Jimmy, and Drake too, he supposed…
Summers laughed quietly. Everyone’s all right. Laura’s fine, although she’s resting now. It was an… eventful night. A brief hesitation.
Akihiro furrowed his brow. It was an obvious statement, given the scene with Romulus and then the Seed, but there was something else. Care to elaborate?
We got Logan back, Summers said simply, as if it wasn’t the biggest news she could give him. Something monumental. Relief surged in Akihiro’s veins, almost overwhelming him. He’s here, at the mansion, Summers continued. He’s sleeping. He wanted to see you, she added quickly, reassuring, as if worried that Akihiro would take offense that Logan hadn’t run to his bedside. Perhaps years ago he would have. But it was so far removed from what they were now, from the reality of what Logan had been through -
How is he? Akihiro demanded, in his mind vague thoughts of tortures and torments. Did you find Bellona? Remus? How’s my mother? God, he hadn’t had the time to tell his mother everything; he’d given her only bits and pieces of what he’d suffered at Romulus’ hands, but then she’d had to witness that.
Not just her. He’d given a damn show, hadn’t he? And then he’d just gone and fainted. He should have been there when they rescued Logan. He should have fought for his father. Laura had gone, despite the pain and exhaustion she must be feeling after her torture. She’d gone, and he hadn’t. He hadn’t done anything useful, he’d just floundered…
I know I’m not my mother, but listen to me, Summers said. You were fundamental. You saved us, you saved Laura. Thank you for that. What you put yourself through for us… I won’t forget it. No one will ever forget it.
No, they wouldn’t, would they? Not when he’d screamed everything from the rooftops. All his pain. His sordid past.
You were brave, Summers said gently. There wasn’t anything sordid. No one that heard you thinks any less of you. The monster is Romulus.
I know. Akihiro took a shaky breath, grounding himself. Studying Johnny’s beloved face, flickers of light dancing on his features. He knew. God, he’d faced it all. He’d faced it, he’d faced Romulus, and he’d won. You were telling me what happened.
Yes. Summers let it slide, knowing he needed space. Knowing she’d done all she could, in reminding him – in making him remember – that he’d survived. Remus had sealed Romulus’ memories, she said, but a power too. When we retrieved his memories we unlocked this power too, that’s how he managed to attack us. But before he took us down we found a place that looked important to Remus, so when we recuperated enough we headed there immediately. And there we found Logan, and Bellona, and Remus. We got Logan and Bellona, and wiped Remus’ powers. She’s just a human now. And… Romulus is just a human, too.
Akihiro exhaled, tension coiling in his body. He recalled Romulus’ blood spraying him, his claws buried inside the monster. So I didn’t kill him.
No. Summers paused for a moment. Did you want to? No one would fault you for that, she added almost casually. He recalled how vicious she’d looked in the cell as she confronted Romulus before going into his mind. How she’d always seemed to be affected by Akihiro’s situation.
Had he wanted to kill Romulus? He didn’t know. He knew that the Death Seed had whispered about destruction, that he was furious and hurting, that he wanted to make Romulus pay. He knew that in that moment, it had been the only thing on his mind.
He didn’t know how he felt, knowing that his claws hadn’t struck true.
Mum thinks that if you were possessed by the Death Seed and didn’t kill him, then you didn’t want to, Summers said.
Was it possible? Could it be that he’d unconsciously already decided? It held its appeal to know Romulus diminished, held behind bars and having to live with the knowledge that he held no power over Akihiro anymore.
I thought about letting him bleed out, Summers confessed.
What’s it to you? he decided to ask. He’d avoided that line of questioning for a long time, irritated by her reactions, by the glances she threw him from time to time. But he felt oddly touched, understood; like he’d found a kindred spirit.
I know how it is, she said simply. To be lied to, abused, controlled. Hounds, they called us. I was made to hunt down other mutants. Many died because of me.
I’m sorry. Mongrels, hounds. A common dehumanization trick. Did you make them suffer, those who did this to you?
Yes. There was a hint of fury, a barely concealed strength that was almost scary. Then her presence softened. But I decided to do that. We couldn’t take that decision from you.
I appreciate that. Decisions, decisions. He wondered what his mother had decided to do about Remus. If she was satisfied with the monstress’ fate. If she persevered in her road of repentance. She was so torn by shame and rage.
Summers sighed in his mind. Yeah, about your mom. She went with the mission, but then she sat out the confrontation with Remus. The news didn’t surprise Akihiro that much; it was obvious she had much more willpower than Akihiro. Summers hummed. Don’t sell yourself short. But yes, she preferred to help out with Logan and Bellona.
They were mind-controlled, he surmised, dread filling his veins.
Bellona was completely wiped, much like your mother. We undid that already. Logan was just nudged to protect Remus and cover her retreat. But he’s shell-shocked, Akihiro. Remus didn’t hurt him physically, but she played with him. She painted a picture of what was happening with us, she told him no one would come for him. She gave him ultimatums… Another hesitation.
Well, just tell me. Akihiro carefully slid out of bed, rearranging the covers so that the sudden absence wouldn’t wake Johnny. He got a feeling that he wouldn’t like where this was going. He needed to find a place where he could make noises if needed. The thought of Logan being manipulated by Romulus’ twin made his blood boil. What did she want with him, then?
An heir, Summers said. She got herself pregnant, using Logan’s -
Akihiro froze, there in the middle of the room, her voice tuned out. He slowly made his way towards the ensuite, focused on his breathing and nothing else. He fumbled with the doorjamb, finally threw the door open. Silently closing it behind him, he leaned against it, taking deep breaths in the darkness of the ensuite. There was a potent stench of burnt flesh; flicking on the lights, he saw the clothes he’d worn the previous day abandoned on the floor, a heap of scorched fabric sticking with Akihiro’s skin. The scent from earlier… it had come from here, not from Johnny. Akihiro stared at the proof of yesterday’s events, reeling. Romulus. Remus. Using Logan to get a fucking child. An heir. Forcing Logan? The twins, taking and taking and taking –
Are you all right? Summers was saying. He got the feeling she’d been speaking for quite some time, her voice somewhat frantic. Akihiro? Do I need to wake up my mother?
Akihiro shut his eyes. No… Think. Summers had said that Remus hadn’t hurt Logan, so she must have taken his genetic material in some other way. Under duress, but still willingly. At least that. And she was in custody now, so they’d take the child from her, and it wouldn’t be raised by a monster like it had happened to Akihiro. No, the baby would grow up safe. Safe and protected.
Shit, Akihiro, listen, Summers said. He didn’t like her tone. He didn’t like it at all. Remus managed to escape. But she’s human! she reminded him when he pushed himself off of the door with a silent snarl. We’ll find her. And save your sibling.
You better, Summers. He paced the room. The woman was right: if Remus was human now it would be laughably easy to locate her. All the same, Logan must be a bundle of nerves, reliving all over again what had happened with Akihiro. And his mother! To think Remus done for, only for the monstress to slip between her fingers; to see her take another child!
He had to go to her. She must be reeling.
She’s resting too, Summers said before he went looking for his mother. She… asked Emma to put her to sleep. She was too agitated. She knew she needed to rest. She and Logan… they’re already thinking about going after Remus. They’re not being very subtle. But we’ll stop them. Do you trust us, Akihiro?
Oddly, he did. The X-Men had ultimately proven themselves. But if they didn’t deliver, he’d join his family in the search. He couldn't certainly let his mother do this alone, not with how devastated she was at the blood on her hands. If she went after Remus like this, she’d regret what she ended up doing.
God, he was reasoning exactly like Logan must have, years ago, when he’d taken away Akihiro’s vengeance! The thought made him stop in his tracks. But Logan had been… right to follow his hunch, despite the mess he’d made of it, going about it decidedly the wrong way. And Akihiro had an advantage on him: he knew his mother’s mind, he wasn’t making decisions for her. He knew how she looked, how she smelt as she recounted her killings. He had to save her from this path, walk it with her and take the burden on himself. Killing wasn’t something he dreaded, like she did.
It won’t come to that, Summers promised. We’ll find Remus.
You better, he repeated, leaning against the sink, staring at his reflection… at his now unblemished skin, no trace of the tattoo on it after the burning. The absence felt right, as if he’d rid himself of another thing tying him to Romulus.
He couldn't fathom his unborn sibling being raised to hate his family, a weapon ruthlessly sharpened to get revenge. He couldn't bear it.
Logan couldn't certainly survive it.
Summers had said Logan was shell-shocked. Akihiro could believe it; Logan had survived many things, but there was a point where something had to give. Akihiro knew it well enough.
I think he’ll need some time , Summers said quietly. She really did a number on him. I don’t think he realizes.
Oh, yes. Akihiro would take matter into his hands. Relieve Logan of this nightmare; return the favor.
If we don’t find Remus , Summers reminded him, which we will.
Yes. Of course.
For now, he’d let the X-Men do their thing. He’d focus on what he had; his parents, finally returned to him. A new traumatized sister to help and decidedly spoil. He owed Gabby an outing, too.
Okay, Summers said slowly. You seem to be… remarkably better than how I imagined. That’s great. All the same, if you need a session, you can contact my mother anytime after 10 a.m., Summers said delicately. And if you need something earlier, Betsy can -
No need.
Better? He didn’t know if he was. The memory of the confrontation with Romulus was still harsh and bleak, if he stopped to think about it. But he had all that he’d learned, and the knowledge that Romulus couldn't hurt him anymore, that the monster had tried and failed. He had more than enough juice to go by until Grey reemerged from her slumber, perhaps even more. He could even try and be the rock in this family, for once. Laura could certainly need some respite.
All right, Summers said brightly. I’ll leave you to it, then. Just a few other things. Jimmy was mind-controlled for a while by Remus, and turned against us. Your mum helped with that too. He’s fine now. Recuperating in the med bay.
Akihiro clenched his jaw; it seemed that Remus had been set on hurting his whole family. Yes, Jimmy didn’t want to be regarded as family, but Akihiro couldn't help how starkly he felt at the notion that Remus had taken control of his sort-of-brother. He regretted not making a stronger effort during the past weeks to connect with Jimmy.
You can still do it, Summers said. She didn’t leave him time to protest. The other thing, she hesitated, is that… no one told Logan what happened with Romulus. We all thought you’d prefer to do it, if you wanted to. And they’d been right to think so. And frankly, Summers sighed, he was worried enough about the Death Seed, and there’s all he went through too. We had to put him to sleep. He’s with Kurt and Ororo.
I see. Thank you.
Summers retreated, leaving Akihiro to himself. He quickly peeled off the slacks and tee that someone – probably Johnny – must have changed him into when he’d completely healed from the burns. Healing from such wounds was a gruesome affair that he wouldn’t have wanted Johnny to witness, but he hadn’t had time to think as he felt the Seed retreating, frantic with the need to permanently rid himself of the thing.
He grabbed a quick shower to wash off the sweat sticking to his skin. He’d been overheated, in that cocoon of blankets; Johnny must have wanted to err on the side of caution, knowing Akihiro’s aversion to the cold and his need for warmth. He’d have loved to wake up in Johnny’s arms, but Johnny would have suffered the heat much more than him.
He stepped off the shower and dried himself, then to avoid waking up Johnny he wrung his hair into another towel and pressed most of the wetness away. His hair had already grown back to its length, and he pondered whether to shave the sides, but a surge of rebellion made him decide against it for now. Finally he dropped the towels onto the burnt heap on the floor and he gently opened the door.
Johnny was still fast asleep, even if the light was getting stronger, aimed straight at his face. Leaving the door open to ventilate the ensuite, Akihiro padded to the window and drew the curtains, although he pushed the window slightly ajar to stave off the stench of burnt flesh.
He covered Johnny with light linens, in case the morning air was too cold for him, then grabbed briefs from the dresser and put them on.
He gravitated towards the wardrobe, considering. He was starkly awake, and in any case, well-rested. But anyone he wanted to talk to was sleeping off the events of the night and of the previous day. He could just slide into bed again and revel in Johnny’s warmth, but he didn’t want to disrupt his rest.
And he was a bit hungry.
That settled it; he selected jeans from his wardrobe, smiling as always at the half of it occupied by Johnny’s own clothes, and then stole one of Johnny’s shirts, light blue, the ever-present Fantastic Four logo on it. Johnny’s scent clung to it; it was comforting.
He supposed that now that Logan was back, Johnny might want to return to his family. They’d have to find a new way to be together, the domesticity of these few weeks sweet and so longed for, and hard to renounce. But they’d make it.
He was sure of it.
He grabbed a pair of shoes to slip into only once in the corridor. He was almost out of the door when Johnny moaned.
Not in a languid way caused by some sweet dream; he didn’t smell aroused, and anyway Akihiro knew what sounds Johnny made when he was. No, it was a mournful, wretched cry, filled with despair. Akihiro turned, breakfast forgotten, to see him clutching at the sheets, a terrible furrow in his lovely brow, eyes squinted shut. Another cry escaped him.
A nightmare.
Akihiro dropped the shoes on the floor and was at Johnny’s side in an instant; he knelt on the mattress and lightly touched Johnny’s shoulder.
“Johnny,” he called. “It’s all right. I’m here.” Johnny winced and sobbed, but he wasn’t conscious, held between sleep and wakefulness, trapped in his nightmare. Akihiro shook him gently, calling him, reluctant to resort to Pherokinesis even for something like this. He run a hand over Johnny’s arm. “Wake up, dearest.”
Johnny was the one that came up with new terms of endearment, always showering Akihiro with them; Akihiro hadn’t felt the need to do the same, because Johnny’s name already held all the love he bore for the man, and Johnny sensed it in his voice. So the word startled Akihiro when it escaped his lips in his urgency to relieve Johnny, but at the same time it tasted so right on his tongue, it struck a chord in him. It felt right to say it.
It also worked. Johnny woke with a start, heaving a tremulous breath. His gaze moved frantically as if he couldn’t see Akihiro, but the room wasn’t so dark that he couldn’t. Akihiro squeezed his arm and spoke softly. “I’m here, Johnny.”
“Aki!” Johnny clung to him, his eyes now fixed on Akihiro as the last tendrils of his nightmare dissipated. He was shaking all over. “You’re fine, you’re fine -” He let out a sob.
Akihiro held him, lightly stroking his arm and back. Johnny buried his face against Akihiro’s chest, mumbling, his teeth chattering. He smelt terrified; Akihiro’s heart clenched painfully. Obviously this nightly terror had come from the happenings of the previous day, from Romulus or the Seed or both; and then the subsequent lack of sleep certainly hadn’t helped .
“I’m here,” Akihiro reassured him. “It’s all right, I’m fine. It was just a dream -”
“I burned you,” Johnny sobbed against his chest.
Akihiro stilled. He cursed himself, in all the languages he knew, as he resumed his comforting motions. Mechanical gestures. How could he be so careless? Johnny wasn’t one who went around burn ing people alive and he’d never seen Akihiro really down, he didn’t know the horrors Akihiro could survive. He’d just been asked to trust Akihiro, and he had, and then his vision had been filled by a nightmarish sight. He’d been asked to set the man he loved on fire. He’d watched it happen. And then he’d tended to Akihiro’s wounds, watched burnt skin and flesh slowly reknit themselves.
Of course he’d had a nightmare!
“I’m fine,” Akihiro repeated, soft. “I promise. I heal, Johnny. You didn’t hurt me.” God, he was an idiot. He couldn't lie to Johnny; he’d screamed, for crying out loud, but even if he hadn’t, he’d sworn he’d never lie to Johnny again. “You saved me,” he amended, “You took the Seed away. It’s gone now because of you. You did good.”
Johnny looked up, his face wet, eyes shining with tears. “I know. I… I know.” He grabbed Akihiro’s arm, gazing at him, frantic. “They said it worked. It’s not that,” he valiantly lied. Akihiro’s heart sank to his stomach.
“Don’t pretend for my sake.” He grimaced. “I shouldn’t have asked you to do that. I’m sure there was some other way to get rid of the Seed. I’m sorry, Johnny.”
“No, huh-uh, don’t do that.” Johnny shook his head. “I did it willingly, okay. I trusted you to know what you could survive.”
“You’ve had a nightmare, Johnny.”
“Yeah.” Johnny glanced around, at their position, at the disturbed sheets. He sniffed. “But not because… shit.” He winced. “Don’t take this the wrong way,” he pleaded, his heartbeat a mess.
Akihiro stroked Johnny’s arm, willing himself to listen without jumping to conclusions. He should definitely stop jumping to conclusions. “Tell me.”
Johnny nodded, pale. He dried his tears with the back of a hand, the other still clutching at Akihiro. “I can count on my fingers the people I burned with intent. It’s not something that I usually do, you know.” He looked grim. Akihiro cursed himself again. “That time you bombed New York… remember?”
Akihiro felt cold all over. “Yes. I’m sorry.” He’d already apologized, but he could never apologize enough.
“I know.” Johnny grabbed his hand and squeezed. “At some point, that night, we thought we’d traced you. I was so angry and I jumped right in, I went after you. And when I found you, I… I burned you. But it wasn’t you -”
“It was Logan.” Akihiro recalled his ploy to buy some time. His voice felt odd, distant. God, what a monster he’d been at the time.
“Yeah.” Johnny grimaced. “And after… when you died… Reed hadn’t retrieved the voicemails yet. I used to dream that I was burning you, not Logan. And I would wake up thinking, hoping, you were there. I always thought that you’d just emerge from the shadows, alive, and I always felt so relieved. Because you were fine, and I could ask for your forgiveness. But you never showed up.” He sniffled. “And that’s what I just dreamt, sort of. Only that this time I knew you were alive, but I couldn’t find you. I smelt burnt flesh but you weren’t there. You were gone and I… I couldn’t find you. I don’t know why I dreamed all that,” he finished with a whisper.
Akihiro knew, though . Johnny had found himself suddenly alone on the bed, and the air was still heady with the stench of Akihiro’s burnt flesh coming from the ensuite, the door stupidly left open by Akihiro. And obviously the events of the previous day still played a part, even if Johnny lied to himself about it.
“Give me a moment,” he said simply, releasing Johnny from his hold. Johnny let him go, confused.
Akihiro went to the window and flung it open. Then he threw into the trashcan the stinking mess laying in the ensuite, he tied a knot in the waste bag – sealing away some of the smell – and put the can out in the corridor.
Johnny had watched him move around with wide eyes; now he cursed softly. “I probably should have done that tonight.”
“Don’t berate yourself.” Akihiro leaned against the closed door. The stark morning light, now that the curtains were drawn open, rendered everything much harsher, crueller. Johnny was so pale. “The smell was an inciting factor, yes. But so was what I made you do years ago.” Akihiro winced; he’d provoked Johnny nightly terrors, for days. “And yesterday. I’m sorry, Johnny.”
“You didn’t make me, that time,” Johnny protested gently. “You just reasoned that we’d go after Logan instead of you. You couldn't possibly have imagined I would burn Logan down, and you couldn't have imagined I’d have nightmares about it. It was all on me and my anger -” He caught himself, wincing. Akihiro’s heart fell.
“Anger I’d provoked, betraying you and hurting your family.” He’d done all that. He’d done all that to Johnny.
“It was way out of proportion,” Johnny grimaced. “It wasn’t a good reaction. And your healing factor was fried at the time, too. I could have killed you. It wasn’t you, but still, I shouldn’t have… I’ve always felt like shit -”
Oh, of course he did. Akihiro held up a reassuring hand.
“You didn’t. I’m fine. I… I understand. It’s not something that you like to do. It’s something you do your best to avoid. But Johnny, I was a villain, laying waste not only to your home, but to the city. You did what you had to do, to stop me. It’s all right.”
“I could have really hurt you.” Johnny clutched at his arms. “And yesterday, it was… I was back to it, all over again. I knew you were fine, I trusted you, but still -” He broke off with a tortured expression.
God, Akihiro had made a mess of things, hadn’t he? “I’m sorry I made you do it. I’m sorry. I… I’ve only ever traumatized you, haven’t I?” He felt his eyes filling with tears. This was what had always come from him, for so long. Pain inflicted on others. On Johnny, too.
“We’ve been through this.” Johnny changed into a kneeling position, his hands pressed to the covers, and stretched towards him. He looked so earnest. “Through all of this. You apologized.”
Akihiro scoffed, his chest clenching painfully. He rubbed at his eyes, because it wasn’t right to cry, not when he was the one in the wrong, but the tears wouldn't stop. “Is that enough?”
“If I say it is, yes.” Johnny’s gaze softened. “If you go and apologize, you put yourself in the hands of the recipient. It’s all right, Aki. I forgave you a long time ago.”
Yes, they’d talked about this. They’d explored every inch of their first relationship, every damn betrayal. And Johnny forgave him; Johnny loved him. Akihiro loved Johnny. And he needed to be held accountable. He couldn't change, he couldn't be better if Johnny made excuses for him. He wanted to be a better person. He wanted to own his mistakes.
“Well, this is different. Let me say it again. I’m sorry I did that to you,” Akihiro choked out. “And yesterday… Johnny. I would have never asked you to do that if I’d known about this. I’m so sorry.”
Johnny grimaced. “Okay. Apology accepted, okay? But you need to listen to me too. I need to apologize for that, for burning you – for thinking I was burning you that time. And yesterday, shit, it absolutely wasn’t your fault. I should have told you. I’m sorry.”
“No, don’t apologize.”
“Shit, Aki.” Johnny passed a hand over his face, seemingly on the verge of tears himself. “I’m allowed to say I’m sorry. We both fucked up, okay? Can we agree on that? It’s not all on you,” he said with fierce vehemence.
“I just don’t want you to make excuses for me,” Akihiro insisted. “I know I did many wrong things.”
“And I did a very stupid thing in not setting that boundary,” Johnny said firmly. “And a horrific thing when I burned Logan thinking it was you. Okay?”
Akihiro stood against the door, counting his breaths. Maybe Johnny wasn’t being unreasonable. It was a tangled, mangled web they found themselves in, this love born from deception. That truth couldn't be glossed over, but that wasn’t what Johnny was doing. He was finding a fault in something he’d done and taking responsibility for it, and Akihiro should let him. And trust him with it. Otherwise it was just glorified martyrdom, not a relationship. And so they should talk, and clarify. Leave nothing unturned. They were both right.
Akihiro passed a hand over his eyes, and this time the tears stopped. “Okay. I accept your apology.”
“Okay.” Johnny smiled, soft and bright. “Now, since that was really taxing and I’m not the only one who went through something traumatic yesterday…” He spread his arms. “Can you come here, so that I can comfort my boyfriend?”
Akihiro’s heartbeat fluttered. “I’m seventy,” he retorted stupidly.
“I know, baby.” Johnny beckoned him closer. Akihiro left the door and stepped closer, then stopped. His heart was doing something ridiculous, considering they’d been together for months now, and they knew what they were to each other.
Except they hadn’t given it a name.
“Don’t… don’t call me boyfriend.” Not boyfriend, but… partner? They hadn’t decided on a term. A few other people had called them partners already, Frost the first. Was it the correct term? It felt like the correct term. How would it feel to have Johnny introduce him to someone as his partner, not someone he was dating?
What was wrong with him? This wasn’t the time to have such thoughts.
“Huh-uh. Don’t deflect. Come here, please?” Johnny made grabby hands. He had this careful, concerned, loving expression etched on his features. “Look, we’re both reeling and you know what cures that? Cuddles. Come here, love.”
That moniker never failed to make Akihiro weak in the knees. He climbed on the bed, and Johnny leaned back against the mattress. He curled up in the crook of Johnny’s arm, his arm thrown around Johnny’s waist. For a moment, they both kept silent, listening to each other’s breathing.
Johnny stroked his back. “They found your dad,” he said softly. “Should have told you right away.”
“It’s all right, I know already.” Akihiro rubbed his face against Johnny’s chest. He loved to feel the gentle drumming of Johnny’s heartbeat against his skin. “Summers updated me. She said he’s sleeping. They all are.”
“You’ll see him soon,” Johnny murmured, his fingers tracing comforting circles on Akihiro’s back. He inhaled to speak and Akihiro just knew what he’d say next.
“Are you hungry?” he hastened to say. “I was actually heading downstairs before you woke up. I’ll make you tamagoyaki.”
“Aki,” Johnny chided him, so gently. Reeling him in. “If you don’t want to talk about it, we won’t. But I think you need to tell me if you don’t want to.”
Instead of transparently trying to change the subject.
Akihiro sighed and shifted, resting his head on Johnny’s shoulder. Gazing into those blue eyes. They were shining with worry, but also warm and understanding. Johnny wouldn’t pry against his will.
“I didn’t kill him,” he found himself saying. His voice was low, strange. He fanned his fingers on Johnny’s chest.
Johnny held him close and pressed a kiss to his forehead. “Yeah. Did you want to?”
It was just a question, no judgement in it. Johnny had made his peace with this particular conundrum already. Akihiro recalled their conversation on the bench, Johnny’s fiery offer. His own frantic denial. Johnny had been there, the previous day. He’d witnessed everything. If Akihiro had killed Romulus in the cell, Johnny would have been there, bearing witness. Going against so fundamental a part of himself. The part that made him have nightmares when he set someone on fire.
No, Akihiro was glad that he hadn’t killed Romulus then.
But the question, the real question, was whether he wanted to kill Romulus at all. The monster had to be punished. He had to suffer for what he’d done.
But he was human now. There was no worse punishment for one such as him, no better suffering that Akihiro could inflict upon him. Death now would be too easy, after all his crimes. He’d ruined Akihiro’s life; his mother’s, Logan’s. Perhaps, most certainly, the life of countless others. It was only right that he faced imprisonment, that he saw himself grow old and weak. He couldn't get off the hook so easily.
“No,” Akihiro murmured. “I don’t think I did.”
He took a breath and let it go, settling in to the realization. The rage, the fear, the helplessness; he breezed past them, free. He was free. Never, never again would Romulus harm him. He didn’t have that power anymore.
Akihiro had defeated him. He’d fallen and then re-emerged, stronger for it. He basked in that feeling, in the sheer exhilaration of it. Romulus had tried to make him a monster, someone who only hurt others, but he’d failed.
He’d failed.
Johnny studied him quietly, his bright eyes roaming Akihiro’s face. Perhaps he caught a glimpse of the energy simmering beneath Akihiro’s skin, because he tilted his head, pressing their foreheads together. “He’s in the med bay,” he said, too off-handledly, infinitely genuine. “In case you want to avoid him. Or go to him.”
Sweet Johnny. Fierce, protective Johnny. Akihiro loved him all the more for this, for the offer. “I don’t want to kill him,” Akihiro breathed against Johnny’s lips. “I’m done. He’s nothing.”
For so long – so long, so long! - he’d hated the monster. But he didn’t want to be a creature of hate. He was healing, and he was taking back everything.
He laced their fingers together, watching the journey on Johnny’s face. The surprise, the pain, the acceptance. Always, always the love. Akihiro felt light, so light. He pressed a kiss to Johnny’s lips. “Was it difficult, dearest?”
He tasted the word, the endearment, once again on his tongue. If felt so sweet, so right.
Johnny frowned. “Was it -?”
“Watching from the other room.” He cupped Johnny’s cheek, brushed their noses together. A man so kind, thrust into such a nightmare. Forced to watch and do nothing. He – and Akihiro’s mother too – had gone through just as harsh a trial as Akihiro’s the previous day. “Was it difficult?”
“For me…?” Trailing off in shock, Johnny rolled to his side and, propping himself up on his elbow, he lifted himself, his hand running over Akihiro’s arm; he peered down at Akihiro. Akihiro tilted up his head as he thumbed Johnny’s jaw, mesmerized by the soft morning light crowning Johnny’s concerned face. “Aki. Yes, it was hard. I hated that I couldn’t get in there,” Johnny grimaced. “That I could only stand by. But it’s not important what I felt. I’m not the one who just confronted his… his abuser, okay?”
There was a pause, a hitch in Johnny’s breath. Akihiro tensed, because there was a story behind that, behind all the times Johnny had mentioned he’d been used and hurt; and he had yet to share. Akihiro hoped Johnny would do it eventually. He didn’t want to be the only one being taken care of; it wasn’t right.
Johnny misinterpreted the stiffening, though, his gaze turning even softer. He gently rubbed Akihiro’s arm. “Was it difficult for you, love?”
He run his hand up to Akihiro’s shoulder, then down again, sweet and kind and comforting. For a moment, Akihiro lost himself in the feeling. He recalled Romulus saying he was clingy after sex, and smiled ruefully. Yes, he was clingy. He craved physical affection, gentle contact. And he’d claim it with pride. And now he could be clingy without having to have sex, and it was right, and it was good.
“It was cathartic,” he answered truthfully, wondering. “I think I needed to do it. To look him in the eye and tell him that now I know what he did. That I’m ridding myself of his influence.”
That first time, years ago, he’d still been too entangled, too furious. God, he’d clung to Romulus, distracting the monster with sex the night before, thinking it a victory, tasting the bitterness of his knowledge that the next day he’d betray Romulus. He’d been too hurting then, too dependent of the very same patterns Romulus had carved into him. But now, now he’d done it on his own terms. He’d thrown his growth in Romulus’ face. Romulus was stagnant, a relic. Just a pathetic monster.
“I think a part of me wanted him to acknowledge it,” he mused, recalling those last moments, the fury that had taken him and ultimately allowed Romulus to awake the Seed inside him. “I don’t think I ever expected an apology… But an admission? That, I would have liked.”
Not that he’d needed it; he knew what Romulus had done. He didn't need a stamp of approval on his self-realization.
‘Stamp of approval’. Grey wouldn't like such wording. They’d never discussed this possibility, never anticipated this instinct that had seized him; but if he approached the subject now, she would probably say that it was a natural desire for acknowledgment and he shouldn’t think of it like a defeat. He could picture her clearly.
Romulus had denied everything, trying to make him doubt his own perception of the events. To take control of Akihiro again. But that dismissive attitude was an admission in and of itself.
“You were very brave,” Johnny said softly, echoing Summers’ words. “Inspiring. You did something incredible. I’m so proud of you.”
But Akihiro knew. That was the miraculous, truly inspiring part; he knew what he’d done. He knew what it had taken, and he was proud of himself, too.
He was proud of himself.
Inspiring. Had he inspired Johnny, perhaps? To take matters into his hands? To face whatever he still hadn’t told Akihiro?
Akihiro hoped he had. He stared up at Johnny, at his soft features. Such a kind man. Such a kind, gentle man. He placed his free hand on Johnny’s, lacing their fingers on his own arm. “And I’m proud of you for standing by. I know it was difficult, dearest. You were brave too.”
Johnny’s features… contorted, a bit. Something leaking through, an unspoken pain. “Aki.”
Akihiro sat up, their bodies readjusting to the new position; Johnny knelt beside him, wrapping an arm around Akihiro, his hand between Akihiro’s shoulderblades, the other still on Akihiro’s arm, squeezing. Akihiro cupped the nape of Johnny’s neck and moved the other hand from Johnny’s own to around Johnny’s waist, drawing him closer. Johnny looked raw, confused. Hurting. The sight made Akihiro ache.
He met Johnny’s mouth, softly. “I’m here, dearest.” Johnny made a quiet, vulnerable sound. “Whatever you need. You can lean on me, too. I can take it now.”
God, he could. He had the strength of a giant now. He wasn’t magically healed, no, he knew it would still take time, and so much work… but he’d taken a big, important step the previous day. He felt elated, exhilarated, but also, so stark, a sense of rightness settling in. He was free.
He was free.
“Not… not right now,” Johnny whimpered. “Not today.”
“Of course, dearest. Take all the time you need.”
Johnny clutched at him, his hold tight. His eyes were so blue, his lashes trembling. Whatever it was, Akihiro would be there for him. Whatever half-forgotten old bleakness had been dredged out of him by Akihiro’s confrontation with Romulus, Akihiro would help him fight it.
Because this was how it worked. It worked both ways. Johnny had been a rock for him, steady and ever-present; he’d lent him strength the previous day, too. He’d been there.
And now Akihiro would be there for him too.
Notes:
Next: Family.
.
[This was a simpler moment after all the madness. The boys needed a bit of quiet, to talk things through. I hope you enjoyed the chapter. I’d love to hear your thoughts ^-^ Leave me a comment if you want!]
Chapter 58: Family.
Chapter Text
58.
Bellona was awake.
She was sitting cross-legged on the bed as Hank checked her vitals, but she turned sharply when Laura entered the med bay. Laura studied her sister from a distance as Hank finished. Bellona’s cropped hair gave her constant scowl a new weight; she had no patience for Hank now that Laura was here, and she eventually managed to drive him to Jimmy, who lay two beds away and was still unconscious. Rachel was working on Jimmy too, standing at the feet of his bed with her eyes closed.
Bellona didn’t wait for Laura to reach her bed. “How’s Gabby?” she demanded, her scowl changing into a worried expression.
“She’s fine,” Laura reassured her. Bellona cocked her head, looking towards the door that Laura had closed on her way in.
Bellona had hypersenses now, after Remus’ tinkering; the monster had also augmented her strength, and the changes to her physiology had been enough to give Laura difficulty during their fight in Remus’ habitat.
Bellona must be smelling Gabby, waiting outside.
Gabby had waited patiently as the telepaths brought back Bellona’s memories, but once that was done she’d thrown herself at their sister, bawling her eyes out. Bellona, still shell-shocked, had only managed to hold her and whisper confused reassurances. They’d had to drag Gabby away so that Bellona could rest. Gabby had taken a lot of time to fall asleep, wanting to be there with Bellona but knowing she should let their sister rest, but eventually she’d exhaustion had bested her.
That morning, though, she’d insisted they checked on their sister. Laura had wanted to see Logan and Akihiro too, but they both had someone looking after them. Bellona was alone.
Still, Laura had asked Gabby to wait before barging in.
She glanced at the secure room at the far end on the med bay, where Akihiro had once recuperated. It seemed ages ago. Now the room housed Romulus, the monster’s throat bandaged. The room was sealed, but there was still the large window that permitted to see the rest of the med bay. The monster was unconscious, and was human and harmless now, but she had no idea of how Akihiro would take it if Romulus saw Gabby.
And she had to admit that the mere prospect made her a bit uneasy, too. Fortunately Gabby understood and had agreed to wait.
“Is it safe, Hank?” Laura asked. The man looked at her and followed her gaze, her meaning clear.
“Perfectly safe. He’s going to be out of it for a while yet.” He returned his attention to Jimmy.
Bellona glanced curiously at Romulus and paled; the resemblance with Remus, after all, was there, at least in size. “Who is he?”
“Remus’ brother. He’s harmless now.” A hand on Bellona’s shoulder wouldn’t be well met, so Laura simply stood there, radiating calm. Bellona scowled and scuttled to the headboard, angling herself away from Romulus without giving her back to him.
She had spent months with the monster’s twin. She must be reeling. When her memories were back the telepaths had explained what had happened, and why no one had come for her; Bellona had accepted everything, but she was obviously wary, uncertain of her standing now that they’d saved her. She’d gone from master to master; but now she was free. Completely free; it took some cajoling and Daredevil’s help, but eventually S.H.I.E.L.D. agreed to leave her be, not in small part because she’d been kidnapped on their watch.
Bellona was free now. Free to find herself, to live. It would take time, but they would all help.
Giving Bellona a warm smile, Laura went to the door and ushered Gabby inside. Their sister barreled in, only slowing down when she saw that Jimmy was still unconscious. “Bell!”
She stopped by the bed. Bellona was more present today, and she beckoned her closer. Gabby climbed on the bed, happily chatting away, the only one who could possibly distract Bellona. They were glowing, finally reunited; Bellona even smiled thinly. Laura’s chest clenched at the sight.
Her family was whole again.
She exchanged a glance with Jubilee, who’d been waiting in the corridor with Gabby. Her partner looked so lively too, after weeks of worrying herself sick. She’d slept soundly that night; they both had, curled up on Jubilee’s bed, Gabby and Shogo between them.
“It’s over,” Jubilee said, squeezing her hand.
It wasn’t completely over; Remus was still at large, pregnant with Logan’s child. Logan was one step away from going after her with Itsu, and he was clearly shaken by his captivity. But it was only a matter of time before they found Remus; Logan wouldn't need to go, and he’d have help to come out of the hell he’d been through. He was safe now.
“Yes,” Laura agreed softly. “It’s over.”
Jubilee kissed her gently and then left, leaving her to her reunion. They weren’t sure they should spring new people on Bellona yet.
When Laura went back into the med bay Bellona was staring intently at her, and Gabby was gleefully explaining. “Jubilee’s great! You’ll love her, Bell.” Bellona hummed, her hand running through Gabby’s hair, her gaze never leaving Laura.
Laura knew that look; she’d worn it for so long at the school, at the Avengers Academy. That lost look, that question always on her mind; was she safe? Had she found someone who wouldn’t hurt her? Was it truly possible?
“Is it really?” Bellona cocked her head. Gabby glanced between them, confused, but Laura understood; Bellona was referencing Laura’s conversation with Jubilee. “Is it over?”
She was holding herself tightly, ready to fight. Gabby hastened to reassure her, but Bellona waited for Laura’s answer.
“It is,” Laura confirmed. “You’re safe, Bellona. I promise. Remus managed to get away,” she added, because she couldn't hide something like that; Bellona tensed. “But she has no powers anymore. We’ll find her and she’ll be punished for what she did.”
“That’s good.” Bellona nodded, something vicious in her features. “And how will I be punished?”
Laura stepped closer; evidently Bellona had been too out of it to pay attention after they retrieved her memories. “You won’t be punished. You won’t be held prisoner. You’re free, Bellona.”
“I killed all those people,” she reminded Laura, with a clipped voice. Gabby hugged her tightly, shaking her head.
It was true that Bellona had murdered those civilians when Kimura’s plan to make Laura kill them hadn’t worked. It was the reason why Laura had let S.H.I.E.L.D. take Bellona, and Bellona herself had requested to be held accountable. Bellona needed to be given autonomy, to make her own choices.
But that had been a terrible mistake. Laura blamed on her own stress and shock of that day – and on Fury’s insistence – her failure to recognise that Bellona was just as much of a victim as Laura and Gabby had been. Her failure to point out to the Director that Kimura had most likely tortured her, and that Bellona really had no say in what she did under her tormentor’s orders.
“You were made to,” Laura said. “You’ve only ever been made to do things. It wasn’t your fault, and you won’t be punished for it. You’re free.”
Bellona hung her head. “What if I can’t live with it?”
Laura’s heart clenched. Gabby inhaled sharply and looked at Laura, her eyes filling with tears, unable to say anything; begging Laura to fix it.
Laura sat on the bed. “I understand,” she said softly. “I know your pain. I know how it is to only be used. And I know that it’s difficult now, but I need you to know that it will get better.” Bellona scoffed, but that was to be expected. Laura reached out and, when Bellona didn’t react, caught Bellona’s hand. Her sister’s heart skipped a beat, unused to such things, maybe only from Gabby. “It will. I know how it is to hear it say it too, to think it a lie or an empty promise. To think that it will never get better for people such as us. But you have us, Bellona, and I promise, I swear we won’t ever give up on you. It will get better.”
“We’re family,” Gabby piped up, weepy. Bellona shook her head, but she held onto Laura’s hand, gripping it tightly; and she held Gabby closer. Gabby sniffled and caught their hands. “We’re sisters. And we have a family too, Bell. We aren't on our own anymore.”
She was so strong, their little sister. So hurt; so bent on not letting that ever stop her. On helping others. She’d always be the glue holding them together.
Bellona kept her silence for a moment, staring at their joined hands. “A family,” she finally murmured.
“Yeah.” Gabby nodded, although Bellona couldn't see her. “It’s not just you and me. There’s Laura. And her aunt and her cousin,” she fired off. “Ours. Yours, too, if you want. Debbie and Megan. They’ll adore you. And we have a big brother, Akihiro. He’s great. He’s a force of nature and he won’t let anyone harm you again,” she snarled fiercely, and Bellona blinked, taken aback. “And -” Gabby glanced at Jimmy. Hank had moved away from him, and seemed to be preparing himself to go into Romulus’ room, but Rachel was still there. “Jimmy’s our brother too,” Gabby stage-whispered, “from another dimension.”
“He smells familiar,” Bellona conceded, sparing a curious glance for him. “But it feels… strange.”
“Jimmy doesn’t want to be a part of this family, Gabby,” Laura reminded her. “Respect his boundaries.”
“I’m just telling Bell!” Gabby huffed. “His family is all in that other dimension and he can’t go back and he’s very sad, so we’re giving him space,” she explained to Bellona with a serious tone. “It’s all right, though, he still hangs out sometimes. I treat him like a brother and he doesn’t snap at me like he does with Logan.”
There was a small pause as Gabby recalled that Logan was finally home and that he was in a terrible shape. She’d gotten a glimpse of him in the hangar, before he was ushered away, but then she’d seen Bellona and it had probably slipped her mind. Her lower lip trembled.
“Logan -” she began with a shaky voice.
“The man who was with me,” Bellona offered, taking Laura aback. Of course she remembered. Laura had wondered what had happened in Remus’ habitat; the two of them had been standing close when the X-Men reached them. Laura nodded, and Bellona leaned back against the headboard, her expression guarded, vulnerable. “Remus wanted… something from him,” she said hesitantly, glancing at Gabby, who just nodded.
“Yes.” Laura shut her eyes for a moment. She ached for him, but she knew his partners were taking good care of him. She hoped she could see him soon. She hoped they’d find Remus soon and put a definite end on this nightmare.
“Is he... okay?” Bellona muttered, looking away. Unaccustomed to show concern for anyone other than Gabby. Laura felt a wild surge of affection for her sister.
“He will be,” she said firmly. And you will be, too. She squeezed her sister’s hand; Bellona nodded.
“… I was tasked with keeping him company,” she said, her voice remote. “I was a… familiar face, that’s what she said.” Laura’s heart clenched. “He never lashed out at me, never mistreated me. I was your spitting image, and I could see the pain in his eyes whenever he looked at me, but he never took it out on me.”
Bellona brought her knees to her chest and wrapped an arm around them, in a show of vulnerability that she’d never been allowed to have. It was good that she felt safe enough to do it. Laura focused on that thought, because if she focused on what was being recounted, on the tale of Logan’s hellish captivity and the toll it took on Bellona too, she’d lose it.
Damn Remus to hell.
“Logan’s a good person,” Gabby said quietly. “He makes a mess sometimes, but he’s good.”
Bellona looked at their sister and then away. “He wanted to save me.” She took a breath. Laura’s heart clenched painfully. Of course he’d wanted to. Of course he’d thought of others and not of himself. “I wasn’t even me, I was a living reminder that he was trapped, but he wanted to bring me home. He pleaded with her to… to let me go.” Bellona shut her eyes. “I was no one, no one to him -”
She shook her head, confused, uncomprehending. Unable to understand why would Logan act like that.
“You’re family,” Gabby said fiercely. “And he knew. He saw you and he knew and he loved you and wanted to protect you. That’s how it is, in this family.”
“… He taught me to hunt,” Bellona whispered. “How not to startle animals and how to move and how to strike as quickly and less painfully as possible.”
Laura fought the lump in her throat. “That sounds like him, yes.”
“It was… it was… fun.” Bellona looked so lost. “It was hell in there, I wasn’t even myself, but I remember that I liked it. I liked doing that with him. I think I still would -” She broke off, startled, and looked up at Laura. “He’s the… the man you were cloned from.”
“My father,” Laura corrected gently.
“He thinks of you as a daughter,” Bellona breathed, amazed. “You think of him as your father?”
It was more than just thought, now. But they’d always felt so, even when all evidence pointed to her being his clone. “Yes.”
“I told him he could be my honorary dad,” Gabby piped up, scuttling closer to Bellona, “and he was delighted. He could be yours too, Bell.”
Bellona didn’t answer. “And all these people… your aunt, your cousin. Your… brother? Akihiro?”
“Yes.”
“He’s Logan’s son?”
Laura nodded. Bellona looked almost shocked.
“He thinks of you as a sister. He thinks of Gabby as a sister.” She looked to the girl in question, searching her gaze, making sure she’d gotten it right; making sure their sister was really cared about, and not just by Laura.
“He loves us,” Gabby said simply. “He’d protect us from anything. He’ll protect you too, Bell.”
“I don’t need protecting,” Bellona pointed out. Then she deflated, because she had been kidnapped. She had been used. Laura squeezed her hand.
“Well, yes, you’re very scary. We all are,” Gabby said seriously. “But we all need protecting too. Everyone does, no? Even people who think they don’t. We all need someone that takes care of us.” She took on a mature, professional tone. Laura smiled and ruffled their little sister’s hair.
“There’s no shame in that,” she told Bellona. “In admitting you’re hurt. In asking for help. We were built to be self-sufficient, but life isn’t like that. We need people who care about us. And… we have our family. And you’re part of it, Bellona. I promise.”
“These people don’t know me,” Bellona whispered. “Your… family. They don’t know me. How can they care about me?”
“Family’s a feeling.” They all jumped as Rachel spoke up, finally back from working on Jimmy. His heartbeat sounded like he was waking up, too. Bellona stared at the telepath, uncomprehending. Rachel smiled. “It’s not rational. It’s love. The love you have, the love they give. They love you because Gabby talked about you, and told many stories. Because you’re blood. Because you’re important, not just to Gabby and Laura, and because you deserve to be loved.”
“They’ll change their mind when they get to know me,” Bellona muttered.
“Perhaps,” Rachel conceded. “Or perhaps not. Perhaps you’ll decide that you don’t want anything to do with them, that you want other people. Perhaps you’ll make another family, people you care about, who you want to be your family. It’s on your terms, Bellona, only on your terms. Family isn‘t just blood.” Jimmy was listening closely too, even if he kept his eyes shut, pretending to be still unconscious. His breathing betrayed him. “You have a big journey ahead, Bellona, but know that you’ll always have people loving you here. Laura and Gabby will always love you. Their family will always love you. But it’s okay if you don’t want to be a part of it.”
Gabby started to protest, but Laura silenced her with a glance. Obviously Gabby wanted Bellona to be showered with love, but Bellona was much more like the rest of their family in this regard, and Gabby the outlier. They’d all started out skittish, afraid. Hurt.
It had to come at Bellona’s own pace. They couldn’t overwhelm her.
For now she had – and accepted readily enough – Laura and Gabby. She needed small steps.
Bellona nodded, her eyes never leaving Rachel. “It’s just so much,” she muttered. “I’m not sure I can take it. A family. It’s only ever been just us. Me and Gabby and… Zelda, and… and Parker.” She drew Gabby to her side, holding her tightly. Gabby’s expression was pinched.
Gabby spoke rarely of the clone that had fallen to her death in Paris. Zelda’s death had struck her differently, perhaps because she’d witnessed it; perhaps because when Parker had died they were much more disillusioned, but then Laura had come along, promising her help, and they’d all allowed themselves to hope and feel more strongly. And then Zelda had died.
“You mourn them. It’s completely normal.” Rachel stepped closer. “I come from a different timeline,” she explained. “I left behind all the people I knew. They’re all dead.” Her features crumpled, for a moment. “It took me a long time to open up, to find my family here. But it was worth it.” Jimmy abandoned all subterfuges and opened his eyes and sat up. He looked incredibly focused. Rachel angled herself so she could address him too. “I know it’s hard. And different for everyone. Don’t force yourself and don’t let others force you. But understand that you aren’t replacing the people you loved. And that you are absolutely worthy of love.”
Jimmy inhaled sharply and rolled to the side, giving them his back. Laura stopped focusing on him, to give him as much privacy – admittedly, very little – as her hypersenses allowed.
Bellona looked stricken as she turned over Rachel’s words. She exchanged a glance with Gabby, and the two Sisters began communicating in some secret way they must have learnt while held by Alchemax, a silent language made of expressions and imperceptible motions. Gabby seemed to exude reassurance, while Bellona was still confused but, seemingly, receptive.
Laura studied Rachel. It couldn’t have been easy to expose herself like that, not after her wounds had all been so recently opened to bleed once again. By Romulus, too.
Oh, I’m all right. Rachel grinned. I’m a big girl.
Still. Thank you.
Rachel tilted her head. And how are you? After yesterday.
She was referring to their unpleasant stay in Romulus’ mind. It had been horrible, yes, but it was already a distant nightmare. She knew she was safe now. She was surrounded by people who loved her, her family, and everyone was safe. That had been in the past, and the past couldn’t hurt her anymore. I’m fine.
Yes you are, aren’t you? Rachel smiled softly. And you’re learning to lean on others. It took Logan a far longer time.
I had help. She thought of Jubilee. Of Remy, and Logan. Of Gabby and Akihiro.
Of Bellona, too, and Jimmy.
If they all leaned on each other, they could share their burdens. Make them lighter and lighter until they weighed nothing.
That’s a good outlook. Rachel nodded. You don’t take it all on your shoulders anymore. That’s very good, Laura. She paused. I think you’ll want to know they’re both awake. Akihiro woke up at dawn and he’s doing remarkably fine. You’ll be surprised.
Relief washed over Laura. And Logan?
Rachel sighed. Logan’s a bit trickier. But he’s accepting help, which is huge. He’ll get there.
Yes, he will, Laura thought ferociously. He had the strength of his family behind him. News on Remus?
Mum is looking as we speak. Remus had a headstart, but we’re positive we’ll find her. Rachel looked apologetic.
All telepaths had exerted themselves quite past the point Laura was comfortable with. If Jean needed rest, she did. No one’s going to accuse her or any of you of anything, she reassured Rachel.
It didn’t bode well that apparently Frost hadn’t had any luck finding the monstress, as she was going to Cerebro to try when Laura had retired with Gabby and Jubilee; but perhaps exhaustion had taken its toll, since she most certainly wasn’t rested enough when she elected to join the rescue mission. Laura was sure she hadn’t actually needed to be there… if not for Itsu’s presence.
Yes, Emma definitely needed to lie down, Rachel agreed. She did a lot, yesterday. She had a curious expression on her face, perhaps reconsidering her opinion of the woman.
Can you tell me about Itsu too? Laura inquired. She hadn’t liked the exchanges the woman had with Logan. She couldn’t blame Itsu, the woman was traumatized, but she shouldn’t bring Logan down with her on a self-destructive path.
It’s under control, Rachel said quickly. She’s closely monitored. They both are. But she does need an outlet. It’s all bottled up and she’s bound to explode… at least Akihiro seems equipped enough to help her through it. He’s bent on it, actually.
Akihiro, equipped enough to help someone else through their trauma. It was a novel, beautiful thought. She was glad.
She hoped the situation with Remus would resolve soon; both for Logan’s and Itsu’s sakes, and because she didn’t want to take sides. She didn’t want to have to fight Itsu on this. And it could be ugly for Akihiro, trapped between his parents. Laura had no doubt that he’d always choose Itsu’s well-being over Logan’s, if it came down to it. She wondered if their family could survive such a thing.
Rachel hummed. Your bonds are much stronger than that. Hold steady, Laura. It’s going to be all right.
Yes. Thank you.
Laura returned her attention to her surroundings. Gabby and Bellona had apparently finished their conversation, and now they were cuddling – there was no other word for it, though it was strange to see Bellona so openly affectionate. It was good to see, though.
Bellona was eyeing them both. “I think I’ll give your… family a try, Laura,” she said hesitantly. Gabby emitted a quiet ‘Yes!’ that went unnoticed by absolutely no one.
“Excellent!” Rachel grinned. “My work here is done. Both of you can leave the med bay whenever you want,” she said, addressing Jimmy too. He didn’t stir. “Right, Hank?”
Hank was coming out of Romulus’ room. He sealed it and turned to peer over his glasses at them. “Absolutely. I’m writing up a diet for Bellona, though; I’d like for you to stick to it for at least a month, if you can,” he said gently, addressing Bellona, who nodded with pursed lips. “It’s just a few nutrients I think you should add.” He moved to a desk and grabbed a sheet of paper he must have written earlier; he handed it to Bellona. “I’ll also send it to you when you have a phone.”
“We’ll give you one,” Rachel said. Bellona had already flung her legs to the side of the bed and was thumbing the clothes on the nightstand. Rachel smiled at her. “You’re eager to get out of here?”
A shadow passed over Bellona’s face. “I don’t like medical facilities,” she muttered.
Of course she wouldn’t. She ignored the small lull of silence her words provoked and tore away her hospital clothes with no regard for her privacy and the company, used to change quickly and effectively; Gabby had been the same, at the beginning.
Rachel nodded, her smile never faltering. “We’re preparing a room, too. It’s near the one Laura and Gabby share -”
Bellona stiffened as she tied her shoes. “You want me to stay here?” Her voice was somewhat panicked, and Laura didn’t know if it was because she feared being surrounded by so much people or the scrutiny that would entail. Both, perhaps.
“You’re still a minor,” Rachel said apologetically. “Still, you’ll stay only if you want to. If you want to stay elsewhere we can arrange something else.”
“We have a few apartments!” Gabby said quickly. “Me and Laura. We can move there.”
But Jubilee was here… And Logan… And Akihiro. What would he do now that Logan was back?
She hadn’t discussed anything yet with Jubilee. She didn’t know what to do now that everything was resolved. She’d moved here with Gabby when they found Logan, and stayed throughout the search for Akihiro; then had come the search for Soteira, for Roston, for Remus. For Logan. Circumstances had made her stay, but now? What should she do?
“Why don’t you take a few days to decide?” Rachel said gently. “See how you like it here. This is a school, too.” To Laura, she added telepathically: Breathe. Take a few days, see what happens, talk it through. You’ll find a solution.
Rachel was right. There was time to have a few conversations – if Bellona agreed to stay for now.
Her sister appeared to mull it over and, after another long glance at Gabby, who was vibrating with sheer excitement, she eventually nodded, albeit a bit warily.
“That’s great!” Gabby jumped off the bed. “We’ll show you the mansion. Are you hungry?”
“… I’d eat.” Bellona grabbed the long-brimmed hat hanging from the rack by the bed and eyed it critically. “For my albinism?”
Rachel reached out and brushed two fingers against it. “If you don’t like it, we can find something else.”
“It is practical. Thank you.” Bellona hung it again. “But the sun doesn’t affect me anymore.”
She didn’t have a healing factor, but her augmented strength must be to thank for this development.
She moved to the door, eager to leave the place, but Laura paused to look back at Jimmy. He hadn’t stirred, and Rachel was going towards him. He needed his space, she knew, and yet it tugged at her heart to see him so isolated. But he wasn’t alone, he’d made friends, and surely someone would come soon –
Gabby didn’t exhibit Laura’s restraint, but that was what made her so good. “Want to come, Jimmy?” she asked cheerfully, a step behind Bellona, their hands entwined. Bellona was looking at her with fond exasperation.
There was a beat of silence and then a heavy sigh. “Yeah. Yeah, okay.”
Rachel beamed.
They waited outside as Jimmy got dressed, since Bellona couldn't take a moment more inside the med bay. Gabby was excitedly describing the cafeteria, but Laura reined her in. “I think it might be best if we go to the teachers’ kitchen,” she said, hoping she’d understand that they couldn't subject Bellona to the student body yet.
Gabby surreptitiously gave her a thumbs-up and a wink.
Jimmy appeared; he wasn’t wearing standard-issued clothes, but his own jeans and hoodie, so some friend of his must have brought them. Rachel bade them goodbye to join her mother inside Cerebro.
Their short trip to the kitchen was a silent affair that Gabby valiantly enlivened by describing the school and explaining about Old Logan, whom she’d forgotten to mention earlier. Laura struggled to find a conversational topic; she didn’t deem it wise to ask Jimmy about the Poison, although she surmised that the parasite was once again under control if Rachel and Hank had cleared him.
Then she stopped thinking, because they were nearing the kitchen, and Akihiro’s scent came from that room, and knocked the wind out of her.
He was out of the door in an instant, having smelt her too, and he practically flew towards her. She threw herself at him too, her feet moving on their own.
They collided and he clung at her, studying her face, her limbs. She recalled the dull ache and exhaustion she’d suffered upon escaping Romulus’ control the day before; and Remy had told her that those that were under Romulus’ control had convulsed horribly, that it was the reason why Akihiro had gotten into the monster’s cell in the first place. She let him reassure himself of her well-being while she studied him too.
Barring this frantic worry for her, he was focused and calm, no sign of inner turmoil in him. He seemed truly fine, like Rachel had said. He had a whiff of flour on his cheek that had obviously been lovingly thumbed by someone, and indeed she smelt Johnny too, and then she saw the man, awkwardly waving from the door.
When Akihiro was sure she was completely fine he hugged her fiercely. She wrapped her arms around him, incredibly relieved at the contact, at seeing him so adjusted. Perhaps, as with Laura’s own brush with Kimura, his encounter with Romulus had given him clarity, exorcised the pain somewhat. She was glad of it.
They said no words. They’d never been necessary, with them.
Finally they parted. Akihiro looked over her shoulder and straightened up. Laura turned to see Jimmy leaning against the wall with a morose expression and Bellona eyeing Akihiro curiously, her nostrils flared, his scent explaining his identity even if their reunion hadn’t clued her in. Gabby obviously wanted to fling herself at Akihiro too, but she stayed put for their shocked sister’s sake.
“You’re okay!” she cried out, though, taking a smell step in his direction.
Akihiro smiled softly at her. “Of course, Honey Badger.” He moved towards them and Laura turned fully with him, his arm still held loosely around her shoulders. “I’m sorry I worried you.”
“Huh-uh!” Gabby shook her head vehemently. She made an aborted motion with her hand, to point at Bellona, and Laura gestured at their sister too. She hadn’t thought this would happen so soon, and she hoped Bellona wasn’t too overwhelmed.
“This is -”
“Bellona,” Akihiro said warmly. “It’s good to finally meet you. My name is Akihiro. I’m your brother.”
Bellona studied him long and hard, clearly assessing him. Of the Sisters, she was the one more similar to him – volatile, quick to anger. Mistrustful. These traits he still exhibited, even if he was healing. The two of them could very well clash.
She eventually nodded. “I’m not sure I’m your sister yet.”
“Fair enough.” Akihiro’s gaze turned to their reluctant brother, who’d rolled his eyes at Akihiro’s answer. “Sorry for yesterday, Jimmy.”
It was, perhaps, the only right thing to say. It almost sounded like Akihiro wanted to build a rapport after weeks of nothing, but it wasn’t too overt. A simple apology for wounding Jimmy while he was possessed, an eerie mirror of the other time they’d crossed blades.
Jimmy huffed. “I’d say we’re even.”
Akihiro smirked. “Very true. Now, I was making tamagoyaki for Johnny, but I guess I can accommodate you all. Have you ever had them, Bellona?”
Gabby gasped. “They’re to die for, Bell!”
And she was pulling Bellona with her, and Bellona went, and Jimmy too, with another eye-roll that wouldn't fool anyone, and Laura and Akihiro followed them, and she saw that Johnny was already setting the table, and Logan wasn’t here, and she guessed that Akihiro felt his mother’s absence too, but this here, this perfect tableau, this amazing scene, it repaid weeks of agony and worry.
Their family was finally safe and whole.
Notes:
Next: Adjustments.
.
[I’d love to hear what you think ^-^ Leave me a comment if you want!]
Chapter 59: Adjustments.
Notes:
So sorry for the delay! I’ve been battling with a strange pain in my arm and it’s really difficult to focus. The final chapters will come at a slightly slower pace. But they will come ^-^
Additional Warnings: rape mentions.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
59.
“Hello, Logan.”
He came to, a slick sense of dread filling his veins. He remembered being rescued and brought back to the mansion, he remembered being fussed over until eventually only Kurt and ’Ro remained, he remembered settling down on their bed, huddled close to them, and slowly falling asleep, lulled by their heartbeats, by their breathing. He should be safe now, away from Remus, from the Cave. But that voice –
He couldn’t move. He tried to, oh God, did he try to, but he couldn’t move. He tried to call for help, but his partners didn’t stir. Remus’ not-scent filled his nostrils, that nothingness, and she was here in the room with them, his partners unmoving, deeply asleep, and he tried to move, to call out for any telepath too, but no answer came, nothing -
Logan?
Remus was standing in a shadowed corner. She stepped into the light, her canines glinting, her hair pinned into an elaborate crown, and she tittered, her lips stretching into a blood-curdling smile. Then her features contorted into something wild, and ancient, and terrifying.
Logan, can you hear me?
“You killed her. Your friends killed my daughter!” she spat, her hands cupping her belly. She advanced on him, fast, and she caught him, and he couldn’t fight back, he couldn’t scream, and Kurt and ’Ro weren't waking up… Remus shook him hard and slammed him down against the floor and then she was dragging him away, away… “I told you I’d come and get you.”
No, no, not again, not again… He tried to move, tried to fight, lash out, she wouldn’t take him again, he wouldn’t let her...
Logan! This isn’t real, you’re having a nightmare!
He lay on the floor, heaving, coughing, sobbing. He looked up and Remus wasn’t there anymore, and Betsy was in the monster’s place, surrounded by purple light, and she reached down, her hand outstretched, and he took it and -
He came to with a gasp, clutching at hands that were holding his own. He lay on their bed, his breath coming in quick terrified puffs, his eyes squinted shut. His partners’ scent filled his nostrils, rancid with worry, laced with brimstone. His left hand was tightly held by ’Ro, and the right hand was held equally tight by Kurt.
He was safe. He was with his partners and Remus wasn’t here, she hadn’t penetrated their defenses while they slept. She was powerless. She’d disappeared, yes, she was with a teleporter, but she was powerless and Azazel couldn’t get into the mansion. Logan was safe; he was home. He was with his friends, with the people he loved. They’d saved him.
“Logan?” Kurt inquired, softly, scared. ’Ro reached out – Logan could feel her arm move above him – and grabbed Kurt to comfort him.
“Betsy, is he-?” she murmured. Yeah, Bess was in the room too. They must have called her when they’d realized he was having a nightmare, or maybe she’d heard Logan’s cry for help –
“He’s awake. He’s just adjusting.” Betsy stood at the feet of the bed. “You’re safe, Logan. It’s all right.”
He nodded, still keeping his eyes closed. He held onto his partner’s hands for dear life.
He’d thought it was all right. He’d thought it was over. He was safe and back with his family, and there was a loose thread, yeah, but he wasn’t trapped anymore. He’d thought it would go away, like it always did. How could he function, how could he help Itsu find Remus, if he had nightmares about what had happened?
There was a rustle of fabric as Betsy sat on the edge of the bed. “You need to give yourself time, Logan. You just went through something traumatic -”
Logan snorted. He finally opened his eyes, and gave himself a moment to bask in his partners’ presence, to see them at his side. Their features were marred by concern and love. His chest ached.
“I’ve been through far more traumatic shit,” he pointed out, dragging himself to a sitting position; Kurt and ’Ro moved closer to sustain him. “Hell, months ago I was running around brainwashed, killing people for Soteira. I’ve always been tossed left and right by people who thought they could use me. Remus ain’t a damn novelty.”
Betsy grimaced and shook her head, but stayed silent.
Kurt stroked Logan’s arm with gentle, soothing motions.
“She forced you to have a child,” said ’Ro, softly, so softly. “She took it from you.”
Logan’s heart clenched painfully. “We’ll take it back.”
“Yes,” Kurt murmured. “We will, but you… Please, stop and rest. Let us do it. You don’t… you never give yourself the time to face the things that happen. Stop. Let yourself heal.”
Logan could hear the love and concern in Kurt’s voice, in ’Ro’s, hell, even in Betsy’s. And he could even admit that some of it rang true. His nightmare sure meant that he wasn’t exactly all right, that he had to take a good hard look at himself. But all the same, he recoiled, hurt.
He’d done everything they’d ever said. They’d asked, and he’d seen they were right, and he’d done it.
“I’ve been doing it,” he protested. “Before she took me. I stopped fighting. I was talking, we were talking. You made me dredge out a lot of shit, all of you.” He looked around. Hadn’t he been doing enough? What more could he give? What more did they want? “You want me to hole myself up and do nothing and talk and talk and talk,” he choked out. “You’re making me hurt more.”
Kurt looked as if Logan had punched him; it took the wind out of Logan, it did, but he couldn't take it back now.
Logan struggled to leave the bed and they let him, ’Ro moving fast out of his way and then to Kurt’s side, linking their hands together. Betsy stood up, too, giving the three of them space.
He run to the window and stood there for a moment, keeping his back to them and studying the lawn bathed in sunlight. They’d let him sleep more than necessary.
“Logan,” began ’Ro, cautious, guarded. “We’re sorry. We know it’s difficult. We’re proud of you. We love you.”
“You don’t have to do anything that makes you uncomfortable,” Kurt added, softly. “I’m sorry.”
Logan deflated. They were just trying to be there for him, to support him. They’d been through hell too, through his absence, with no way of knowing what was happening to him. He turned to regard them, his partners, his lovers, his pillars of strength, kneeling there on the mattress, clutching at each other, the nightmare of his loss still fresh in their expression; their worry, too, for his nightmare, for his unwillingness to stop and take a look at himself and… and heal, yes. Was it fear, that he felt? What could happen, when he stopped moving, when he stood still? He knew what had happened the last time he’d stopped, the last time he’d allowed himself to try to heal, the last time he’d sought out to heal.
Blood and death and a child had been torn from his family. And Logan had fallen into the abyss, so much more hurt because it had come after utter peace, after he allowed himself to hope.
Every damn time he’d thought that he could have peace, that he could just hide, it had always ended in tragedy, with a string of dead people left behind. People he’d cared about. But the time at Jasmine Falls had been the only time he’d ever really tried to heal, to face his fears and wounds. And it had ended like it should never have.
Was that why he was so skittish, so on the defensive? Why he always denied any attempt to help him?
He wasn’t alone now. He had them.
He sighed heavily. “I know. I’m trying, okay? And I… I want to try,” he realized at the same time as he said it. Yes, he wanted to heal. To not let all this shit ruin him, like it had, so many times before in his life. His partners’ luminous smiles lifted him up. All the same, he knew he would never be able to sit still and work on himself if Remus was still around, lurking in the shadows. “But I want… I need this to be over. I can’t focus if she’s out there.”
Pregnant with his child. And with means to have other children, if she wanted. A whole battery of kids, raised to be monsters. He couldn't bear it. After Akihiro, he couldn't bear it.
“We’ll find her,” Betsy said firmly. He scoffed.
“It’s been hours,” he pointed out, “Why haven’t you found her yet?”
Betsy grimaced. “She must be hiding out in Hell. But as soon as she gets out of there, she’s ours, Logan. She can’t escape us. She’s human now.”
“For how long?” Logan gripped at his arms. “Wanda’s trick can be reversed. We know that.” And what would happen then? Would she try to retrieve Itsu? Would she go after him again? She’d taken him once; would she do it again? Would she use him again?
Why the fuck was he shaking?
Kurt jumped to his side and hovered for a moment beside him, unsure if he was welcome after Logan’s outburst, but Logan flung himself at him. Kurt embraced him then, strong and warm and sure, and Logan clung to him.
‘Ro was standing, too. Addressing Betsy, fierce and urgent. “She won’t get out of Hell. She knows we’ll be waiting her out. She’ll be looking for ways to retrieve her powers while she’s there. We need to move fast, Betsy. If Wanda can’t find her there, we need a more powerful mystic. Have you asked Strange?”
“We have,” Betsy answered. “Of course we have. He’s looking too. But -”
“But Strange never managed to find her when we were looking for Logan,” Kurt murmured, every word a puncture wound into Logan’s heart. “Probably because my father was running interference somehow. And now he’s physically with her. His influence will only be stronger. Right, Betsy?”
She hesitated. Logan couldn't breathe, not quite. They’d said it was under control. They’d said they’d find her!
Betsy’s eyes were on him, studying him as he crumbled as he’d rarely allowed himself to. She grimaced and seemed to come to a decision.
“She’s not going to hide,” she said firmly. “She’s thousands of years old. She’s used to unlimited power, to having her way. She’s arrogant. And that’s exactly what we’re counting on. Yes, she might be looking at a way to retrieve her powers as we speak. But we’ve had a hunch, okay? Jean isn’t just looking for her, she’s also monitoring closely a place we’re thinking Remus will run to.” She paused. “We’ll take her down, Logan.”
“Where?” he demanded. He couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t rest until Remus was taken care of. Betsy shook her head.
“I’m not going to tell you. You’d try to get there. You’d try to do it yourself.”
He reeled with outrage. “Shit, don’t you trust me?”
“Do you trust yourself?” Betsy crossed her arms. “Do you, Logan, really? Can’t you see -” she trailed off.
Shit, yes; they’d established already that he was fucked up by his captivity. By fucking Remus.
He deflated.
The truth – shit, the fucked-up truth – was that he was relieved. He was relieved that they were taking the choice away from him. He was relieved that he couldn't go after Remus. Because the mere idea of seeing her again, it made him shudder. And even the fact that he was failing Itsu wasn’t enough to stir him. He recalled her face in the Cave, in the jet: so different from how she was in his memories. So hurt, so angry. So utterly destroyed by Remus. And even that knowledge wasn’t enough to battle the sheer, overwhelming, insane relief that this shit was being taken out of his hands. That his friends had a hunch; that he wouldn't have to hunt down Remus.
Remus had fucked him up, more efficiently than her brother ever had, and in far less time. And she hadn’t even done anything, not really. She’d just held him prisoner, she hadn’t harmed him. Yeah, she had forced him to get her pregnant, she held new children hostage, children that could be used and abused but she hadn’t hurt him -
Why the everloving fuck was he shaking?
“Logan.” Betsy hesitated and exchanged a glance with his partners. “She… violated you in different ways than what you’re used to. More intimate. It’s normal that you’re shaken. It’s all right. We’ll help -”
Both Kurt and ‘Ro looked so damned devastated and he didn’t understand. He tuned Betsy out. Remus hadn’t ‘violated’ him. She planned to use his kids; that was what shook him, what had him reeling. The idea that other children, his own blood, could have their life ruined.
He understood what they were trying to say, what had them so cautious, but Remus hadn’t forced him to have sex with her. He’d told her no and she’d respected that.
So why the hell was he shaking?
“I don’t understand,” he choked out, giving up. He clutched at Kurt’s arm, his Elf, his anchor. “It doesn’t make sense. You talk as if she raped me.” His partners winced. “But she didn’t. She didn’t press, she let me do as I wanted, so why do I feel like this?” He cried out, ‘Ro hurrying to his side too. He leaned against her, breathing in her scent.
If they could explain, if they had anticipated this and understood why he was shaking, if they could only explain why he felt like this, trapped, hurt…
“She violated your bodily autonomy,” Betsy said firmly. “It’s still abuse, Logan. She presented you with an impossible choice that wasn’t really a choice. She didn’t force you to do anything, not on the surface, but she still hurt you. And you’re used to overt violence. To threats and serious injury, to being kidnapped and used. You didn’t consciously register it as harm. But some part of you did.”
The part that gave him that nightmare. Put it like that, it made sense. Just another experiment on him, then. If he rationalized it like that, he could put it behind him.
Couldn't he?
He recalled all the derisive throw-away comments Remus had made. Her protestations, her irritation when he compared her to Romulus. And his heart clenched.
“Did she… Did she do this to Itsu, too?” She’d made some comments about genetics that, in retrospect, chilled him to the bone. “Did she use her to breed agents, or…”
“No.” Betsy’s voice softened. “Nothing like that.” Her gaze flickered and he was seized with panic.
“Romulus, then, did he do something to her…”
“Romulus didn’t know Itsu was alive,” she reassured him, and she wasn’t lying, although there was an anomaly in her heartbeat that suggested she was hiding something. “What Itsu lived through, you’ll have to talk about with her. But she wasn’t harmed in this way.”
But she’d been harmed in other ways. Logan deflated against his partners, overwhelmed by grief. The twins… The twins were sadistic monsters, not so different after all.
The thought he’d frantically tucked away the first day, in order to be functional and fight his way out, returned. “Remus made some… some remarks about Romulus. Did he… Did he hurt my son?”
Silence. Everyone in the room knew that Romulus had hurt Akihiro horribly, that he’d used and abused him. But Logan wasn’t talking about that. The context alone gave it away. He couldn't find the strength to use the words, but what he was asking was obvious.
And their silence didn’t quench his fears. Their quick glances, their tumultuous heartbeats.
Betsy sighed. “Akihiro will tell you anything there might be to say when he’s ready.” Logan held his breath; the answer said nothing, and yet it said everything. Betsy grimaced. “And I understand you’re hurting, I understand you’re worried, but you can’t be supportive in the way you want to be, if you don't take care of yourself first.”
“I know.” Shit. He was deflecting. He wouldn’t accomplish anything by grasping at yet more things to be upset about, if first he didn’t take a long hard look at himself. He shut his eyes and focused on his partners’ breathing, on their heartbeats. On their unwavering presence. They were there. They’d always be there. “Tell me what to do, Bess.” He clasped ‘Ro’s hand, and Kurt’s. “Help me.”
The collective surge of relief was almost overwhelming. And he felt… lighter, too. As if just by saying it, he was coming out on top.
Betsy nodded. “For now, rest. Breathe. Gather your strength, relish in the fact you got out.” She held up a hand, sensing his oncoming protest; he wanted to act now. He wanted to get rid of everything now. But he still knew there was some merit to her approach. “We’ll work out a schedule, starting tomorrow. But enjoy this day, Logan. Appreciate what you have. Tackling the trauma just after you lived it isn’t going to help you either.”
Betsy had been helping, before the kidnapping. There had been no sessions, but something like it, perhaps, in the way she approached their conversations. He trusted her to know what was best.
She left with the assurance that she’d update him of any news; otherwise, he’d see her the next morning.
Alone at last. He faced his partners; they’d regained the lively happiness that had followed his rescue. There was still an undercurrent of worry, but they presented a united, supportive front for him.
God, he loved them so much. He’d missed them so much. “I frightened you. With my nightmare.” He was no stranger to nightly terrors, but lately – before his kidnapping – he’d slept easier. They must have been worried.
Kurt shook his head and caught Logan’s hand. “Don’t worry about that.”
‘Ro joined them, her hand covering Logan’s. “We’re just glad you’re home.”
There was a lump in Logan’s throat. Yeah, he was finally home. It was almost over, and he was safe. With is ‘Ro, and his Elf. With his family.
“It’s good to be home,” he said, bringing their hands to his chest. “I’ve missed you.”
“We missed you too,” Kurt murmured. ‘Ro nodded, squeezing their hands with fervor. In their gazes, too, he saw reflected the terror of his absence.
Logan wasn’t the only one who needed to take a break and enjoy his newfound freedom.
“Let’s get out,” he proposed. He didn’t realize until he said it that he needed to see the actual sky, trapped as he’d been for months. Breathe real air. He’d gotten a glimpse, yesterday, but then he’d had to board the jet. He ached to stand outside at his leisure. No one to order him, to control him.
Remus was still out there.
Logan bit the inside of his cheek. He hated that he was afraid, that he feared her sudden turning up, but… he had to own up to it. “Just on the lawn,” he amended.
“Logan,” said softly ‘Ro. She cupped his cheek and exchanged a glance with Kurt. “Of course.”
No need to explain the sudden change of heart. They just knew.
What would he ever do without them?
They debated whether to walk or to teleport directly outside. Classes, Kurt explained, had been thinned to a minimum while they all looked for Logan, and the lighter workload would probably remain until the end of the week. This meant that, despite the hour, they’d face many students, both inside and on the lawn.
Logan didn’t care. Shit, he didn’t care if the whole school stared at him; he only wanted to move about. To be his own master.
So they walked the corridors. And it was different from months ago, when he’d returned from the dead, when every single student he passed just couldn't help giving him a wide berth while tracking his every movement with wide eyes.
This time, the kids kept their distance, but respectfully. A few wandered close and quietly expressed their joy at seeing he was back.
After a couple of this encounters, Logan tilted his head towards ‘Ro, that was walking at his right. His partners were flanking him, their hands held tight. “Why are they so strange?” He briefly wondered, a horrible weight settling in his stomach, whether they all knew what Remus had wanted from him, but… it was impossible that his friends would expose him like that.
She squeezed his hand. “We were all worried about you,” she murmured. “And with… with Itsu here, everyone knew that the person who had you was prone to mind-control.” She pursed her lips, her gaze cautious. Betsy had said not to dwell on this shit today. So he redirected his thoughts towards his wife.
God. Itsu. Logan sighed. He wondered where she was, how she was holding up. But she’d been cold enough during the flight that he knew she wanted to keep him at arm’s length. She’d basically begged him to hunt Remus down together, but he didn’t get the feeling that she actively searched Logan’s company. She’d disappeared as soon as they touched down, leaving the jet in a hurry. She must be reeling, and not just because Remus was free. He knew how it felt to suddenly recover memories and discover many things about oneself.
“How is she?” he asked as they reached the exit. “How did she take the, you know…” He cocked his head. “Retrieving her memories.”
They stepped outside, and Logan stopped walking, breathing in the fresh air. He held his head back, filling his lungs with the exhilaration of freedom.
Then he registered the silence. He glanced at his partners. ’Ro had a pinched expression on her face. “That bad?” he grimaced.
Kurt squeezed his hand. “I don’t think she gave herself time for taking it in any way,” he said, brutally honest. “It happened just two days ago. Then we… discovered where you were, and -” That slight faltering of heartbeat, again, like earlier in their room. Logan had the feeling that he wouldn’t like whatever they’d done to find him.
But he trusted them. He trusted them, and if they thought he shouldn’t know yet… shit, he’d trust them with it. “And you came,” he said softly, “And you saved me.”
He brought their hands to his mouth, kissed them both. He started down the stairs, bent on making the most of today. No bad thoughts, shit. He was back home. All would resolve. They’d find Remus, and all would resolve. Logan would get this horror-show behind him, and Itsu would heal.
The kid, too. Bellona. Shit, he wondered what was happening to her. And Akihiro, he still hadn’t seen his son… They hadn’t let him approach his room, saying he was resting after the flare-up and that Logan definitely should, too.
But… no. No bad thoughts today, no worries. Everything was under control, everyone accounted for, everyone taken care of. All would come with time and patience.
They walked in silence for a while, a comfortable silence, enjoying each other’s company. They neared the entrance a few times, but he always made them circle back. It was an invisible barrier he was painfully aware of, a barrier he didn’t want to cross. He didn’t want to step on the park grounds.
Fuck, he hoped Jean’s hunch was correct. He hoped Remus made a mistake and was dragged to prison, kicking and screaming. It shocked him, that he didn’t want to see her, that he didn’t want to have anything to do with her. Her and her horrid control of his every move, her lurid remarks. Her violation. Yes, she’d violated him. They were right.
“Logan?” Kurt prompted, voice laced with worry. Logan started; he’d stopped walking and he was tightly grasping at the both of them. He relaxed his muscles, weakening his hold. Had he hurt them?
But they were just worried for him. They embraced him, ‘Ro behind him, Kurt in front of him, tight and warm and safe. Logan had never felt so off-kilter, so fragile. He clutched at Kurt’s shoulder; grabbed ‘Ro’s arm, gently wrapped around his stomach.
Shit. “I love you,” he choked out. “I love you so much.”
“And we, you,” said ‘Ro, softly, so softly. Kurt rubbed his back, murmuring soothingly.
“It’s going to be all right,” he reassured Logan. “I promise. We promise.”
“We’re here,” added ‘Ro. “It’s over, Logan.”
It wasn’t, not really. Not until Remus was found. Logan suddenly felt so terribly exposed there on the lawn, vulnerable to prying eyes. To anyone who wanted to spy and turned their attention in the direction of the school, from any plane of existence.
“Can we head back?” he whispered.
“Of course.” Kurt stroked his arm and then caught his hand. ‘Ro clasped the other. Together they retraced their steps. Logan was glad for their presence, for their love, for their steadfast strength. He thought he’d surely crumble if he was alone, if they weren’t with him.
“Are you hungry?” asked ’Ro lightly when they were back inside. He turned his attention inwards and realized his last meal had been in the Cave, ages ago. Before he sparred with the girl.
His first free meal in weeks. He could weep of joy. “Yeah,” he nodded, and dragged them towards the cafeteria… then, smelling the many kids already there, veered towards the kitchen. Shit, he’d even cook. Anything but meat, God. He might even turn vegetarian for a while. He laughed, exhilarated. His partners exchanged a confused glance, but smiled at his renewed vitality.
Yes, it was all right. Everything would be all right.
Then, as they approached the kitchen, the door to one of the lounges was flung open. His son – God – emerged from it, his eyes glued to Logan immediately. Logan stopped in his tracks. He smelled others in the room – three scents like Laura’s, so there were Gabby and Bellona too – and Johnny Storm, and even Jimmy. The room was quiet, the kind of sudden quiet that comes about when people abruptly stop talking.
Akihiro stared at him. Logan stared back, trying to surreptitiously ascertain the Seed’s damage. His son seemed in good health, strangely tattoo-less, his unshaven hair pulled into a messy bun. He couldn’t stop staring at Logan, eyes moving rapidly all over him.
Logan opened his mouth – hell, to say what, he didn’t know (‘I’m back’ ‘I’m fine’ ‘How are you’) – and Akihiro made a strangled sound.
“Logan,” he said, just that, and then shit, he was striding towards Logan with sharp purpose. Logan braced himself because he had now idea what was coming, no idea at all, and then his son was in his space and he was wrapping his arms around him.
Logan flailed, choked up, but the hug – the hug! - didn’t last long enough for him to respond in any way. Akihiro straightened up pretty much immediately, but his hands rested on Logan’s shoulders, like that time, that time when he’d opened up to Logan, when he’d disclosed some of his fucked up past. When he’d called Logan ‘father’ for the first time, with no hint of malice.
“Dad,” he exhaled now, and Logan’s breath hitched. “You’re back.”
Oh, God, Logan hadn’t expected this. Anything, but not this. His son wasn’t the type. They both weren’t the type. They’d been gingerly dancing around each other for weeks before Logan was kidnapped; he hadn’t expected Akihiro to… to hug him. And call him ‘dad’, God.
Kurt squeezed his hand. Logan regained his voice. “Yep,” he agreed.
Akihiro glanced at his partners with disapproval. “I was told you should be resting.” He clucked his tongue.
“Couldn’t stay cooped up,” Logan protested. He was reclaiming his independence, his right to be where he wanted to be. No deranged monster to control his every movement. He shivered.
Akihiro’s gaze sharpened. “I know,” he said almost softly. Shit, it was jarring to hear that gentle tone. Akihiro angled himself towards the room he’d left. Logan looked up and saw Gabby peeking from the door. “We were acclimatizing Bellona,” Akihiro said quietly. “You can join us, if you want.”
Then he frowned, his gaze flickering to Logan’s partners. Probably didn’t want to spring too many new people on the girl.
Logan was being invited to a gathering of his children, even Jimmy – Johnny Storm was the only outsider. If the man could be there, Logan didn’t get why Kurt and ’Ro and Jubilee should sit this one out. But perhaps their meeting had been a matter of chance.
Did he want to leave his partners’ comforting presence to be with his family? He didn’t know if he could regain composure quickly if the nausea took him and they weren’t there.
“I’m a… a bit of a mess, son,” he confessed, clutching at his partners’ hands. “I don’t want to upset anyone.”
Akihiro’s eyes turned cold and hard; Logan almost took a step back, but the chilling fury wasn’t aimed at him. It was aimed at Remus. His son was enraged on his behalf. Remus had told Logan, with her scathing tone and derisive words, and yet witnessing it took the wind out of Logan. Shit, it touched him too deeply for any kind of reaction that wasn’t staring up at his son, a lump in his throat.
“You won’t upset anyone,” Akihiro said firmly. “If you need them, they can come too.” He nodded at ‘Ro, at Kurt. Logan started.
“Son -”
Akihiro took a deep breath, and proceeded to knock the wind out of Logan yet again. “You can… you can call me Akira. If you want. Mother does it.” His features came alight, soft with longing and unbridled joy, and Logan –
Logan sobbed. His son had found his mother. His boy had gotten his momma back to him. Itsu was alive.
His son – Akihiro – Akira looked alarmed, glancing up at Logan’s partners and then back at Logan with wide eyes, his fingers flexing uncertainly on Logan’s shoulders. “Shit, Logan, I didn’t mean… He has met her, right?” he whispered, voice strangled. “Did I just drop a bomb -”
Logan laughed. It was slightly hysterical, but shit, who cared? He was just too happy. His family, whole again, in a way he’d never dared to hope for. At least something, some happiness, had come from the nightmare he’d just lived through. “I saw her,” he reassured his son, who seemed a moment away from hyperventilating with panic, and wouldn't that be a sight. “We spoke.”
His son exhaled in relief. Then he smiled… Logan didn’t think he’d ever seen Akihiro smile like that. He’d seen him smile genuinely, with Gabby and Laura and Johnny Storm, with Laura’s aunt and cousin. But this was something else. It was… honestly, it took the wind out of Logan. It was just so soft and unguarded and joyful; it repaid years of their struggle, of the blood they’d taken from each other. “She’s alive.”
“Yeah.” Logan had had some time to wrap his head around it, but it still took him unawares at times. “A damn miracle.”
Akihiro just nodded, that smile still on his lips. He looked away from Logan, to his partners. Something passed between them, Logan didn’t know what, but the air changed. Akihiro looked almost apologetic as he gazed at ’Ro. “You’ll join us, then?”
It sounded like an olive branch. Logan furrowed his brow and looked to her, to Kurt. His Elf grinned. “Of course.”
The lounge was big enough that it could accommodate them all without it being too crowded, and Logan was glad of it. His gaze run immediately to Bellona, perched atop a stool; she stared at him for a long moment and then her gaze snapped to Kurt and ’Ro. Assessing.
“These are Kurt Wagner and Ororo Munroe,” Akihiro explained, talking slow and measured. He joined Storm on a couch and folded his legs under him, leaning against the man, their hands already entwined. “They’re Logan’s partners. You know Logan.”
Logan kept still, allowing the girl to reorient herself. She’d been mind-wiped; she must be reeling. She returned her attention to him, her eyes traveling all over him, seeking God knew what. They weren’t alone in the Cave anymore; the new environment made this strange. In her he saw Laura and Gabby. His daughter and the kid sat close by, watching the scene unfold. Laura was studying him too; he felt her sharp gaze on him, sensed her worry.
“Glad to see you’re okay, darling,” he told Bellona.
“My name’s Bellona,” she blurted out. He was so used to her taciturn ways that he started. “Not that other name she used.” She grimaced. “Bellona.”
“It’s a beautiful name.” He took a step towards her. He knew already, but he also knew this was important to her. “Thank you for telling me.”
She nodded, brisk, and then she grabbed a plate from the coffee table in front of her.
There was a damn feast laid out there. There was a bit of everything, but Logan recognized home-made tamagoyaki when he saw them, and there was gyudon too, the thick soup smelling heavenly. It seemed his son had cooked.
It was like coming home, in ways that even getting back to the mansion, into his own bed, with the people he loved, hadn’t managed to awaken. He was back, he was safe, he was with his family, and everything was going to be okay, this blessed layer of normalcy a gift he’d always cherish.
Logan sat down on another couch, his partners with him, and they ate and talked about anything but the captivity and everything was delicious, Laura smiling a brilliant, relieved smile, Gabby excitedly chatting away, Bellona sedate but clearly warming up to them. Even Jimmy looked less morose than usual, quiet and subdued but his eyes alert, his quips dry. The only one mostly silent was Johnny Storm, an arm wrapped around Akihiro.
Logan could spend hours like this.
And they did. It was incredible, and it was exactly how Betsy had said. Turn his thoughts elsewhere, relish his freedom. Relish the fact he was rescued, home, with his family, that everything was all right, that everything would solve. It was exhilarating.
At some point Jubilee wandered in, Shogo bouncing on her leg. She launched herself at Logan, laughing with joy. Logan looked up, but Bellona didn’t seem overwhelmed by the new addition, so it was all right.
His son, though… he looked restless, for a moment, his gaze running to the door. When Jubilee said she was starving and whatever they’d been eating smelled glorious, he cocked his head and disentangled himself from Storm’s embrace, saying he’d throw something together for her.
Logan jumped to his feet. “I’m helping you.”
Akihiro threw him a glance as he walked out of the room, an eyebrow raised. “Do you even know your way around a kitchen, old man?” He left, not waiting for an answer.
“Of course!” Logan bent to kiss both his partners and went after him. In the kitchen he found Akihiro already at work, a pan on the stove. Logan stood awkwardly by the door. “What can I do to help you?”
His son rolled his eyes. “Oh, for God’s sake, sit down. You need to rest.”
Akihiro moved silently for a moment, his movements practiced and fluid, as everything he did. Logan battled the flicker of a question, the gripping terror from earlier, and made what he hoped was a more innocuous remark. “You wish your momma was there too.”
It was a stark absence, with the family so gathered. Jubilee’s apparition would highlight it. Not to mention that Kurt and ’Ro were there. Logan didn’t know how to navigate this, the shift in the relationship, Itsu’s reappearance. He knew the shitty things Remus had said, her lurid goading, but… he loved Kurt. He loved ’Ro.
Shit, he did still feel something for Itsu. She was his wife. She’d died. She was alive.
Akihiro sighed. “I just got her back.”
“Yeah. Two days, they told me?” Logan went to sit at the table. So Itsu had been a completely different woman, that Kitsune, up until the moment she regained her memories. Working with the X-Men, furious with… with her ‘mistress’. Logan grimaced.
It must have been a damn trial for Akihiro to see her, to recognize her, and know she couldn’t recognize her own son. It must have been a shock for her to return to herself, to see her life so destroyed.
Akihiro turned to watch him, leaning against the counter. The batter in the pan sizzled. “She can’t go after Remus,” he said quietly. Dead serious.
Logan started. “Well, we -”
“Neither will you.” Akihiro took on a sharp, no-nonsense tone. “You’ll let your friends handle this. Or me and Laura. We’ll take care of it. I know -” He trailed off and gritted his teeth. “You’re fucking damn stubborn. The both of you. But she can’t fall into the abyss, and you…” He blinked. “That bitch hurt you,” he snarled, furious, his nostrils white and flaring. His hands, grasping at the counter behind him, were shaking.
Logan sat there, dumbfounded. Touched, reeling really. Not even being yanked back to the memory of the Cave could steer him away from the significance of this moment. His son was offering to take care of the threat for him. On his behalf. On his mother’s, too, probably mostly, but also on Logan’s. He was utterly enraged, in a protective mode Logan had seen him exhibit only with Laura and Gabby.
Logan cleared his throat. “Son...”
With a huff Akihiro turned to tend to the pan, his back rigid, his breathing labored. He obviously knew. He knew what Remus had done to Logan. Someone had told him.
Did he relate -?
No, shit. Not now. When Akihiro was ready to share, not when Logan wanted to pry. “Akira,” he tried, hesitant, sounding out the name on his tongue. His heart sang. “I’m fine. I’m back, and I’m fine.”
Akihiro deflated. He turned off the stove, threw a burned heap into the trashcan, and stared at the pan. Logan waited.
Everything was all right, and it all would be all right. He was home. He was safe. Everybody he loved was safe.
Akihiro heaved a trembling breath. “Don’t go after Remus,” he pleaded again.
Logan didn’t quite understand, but on the other hand, he did. He’d witnessed his son’s panic at the idea of confronting Romulus. “I won’t. I’m leaving it in Jeannie’s hands. She has a hunch, apparently.”
“That’s good.” Akihiro nodded, and faced him again. He seemed to have mastered himself, his features under control. “Mother will be relieved.” He frowned. “I hope.”
“She’s…” Logan hesitated. He didn’t know if it would be well-received, if Akihiro would be defensive, but he had no one else to tell. “She’s different. From what I remembered.”
Akihiro didn’t scream bloody murder, but he merely nodded. “Yes, she would be.”
“How is she holding up, son?”
Akihiro sighed. “Well, she’s reeling, obviously. Frost was treating her even before we retrieved her memories.” Logan had gathered something like that from their behavior in the Cave, but his eyebrow shot up all the same. “Then we got them back and it was… a hectic day after.” He turned and grabbed eggs and a bowl. “You’re probably more attuned to her state of mind; I last saw her yesterday.”
Logan was beginning to see a pattern there, with the evasiveness too. It had all happened so fast, then, retrieving Itsu’s memories and then finding Logan. Was it all linked?
And Akihiro’s flare-up.
“I heard...” Logan said tentatively. “I heard you had an incident with the Death Seed? Your momma said you’d be fine, but no one told me what exactly –”
“She did?” Akihiro’s heartbeat picked up speed, then it slowed down as he broke the eggs in the bowl and mixed them. Logan watched him work, trying to divine in his careful motions the events of the previous day. His son exuded a strange sort of calmness.
Logan cleared his throat. “Yeah. She was so adamant. Always been like that. I got the feeling it was really serious, though, and...”
He trailed off. He didn’t want to push.
Akihiro hummed. “I’ll give you the short version, because you can’t go around wondering why some people look at me like I’m made of glass. I might give you the long version some other time.” He abandoned the eggs and turned again, and his face was, well… very determined. “I’m fine,” he began.
Well, that was good, obviously. Logan nodded in encouragement.
“What no one is telling you, because they all delicately thought I should be the one to say, is that the telepaths found your location in Romulus’ mind,” Akihiro said lightly. Logan would have thought it a mask of bravado put on for his sake, but his son didn’t reek or tremble like he always did when he mentioned the monster. He just stood. Proud. Satisfied, almost. “But first he managed to incapacitate all telepaths. Then he demanded an audience with me...”
Logan swayed, his blood rushing to his ears. Had the bastard, had the animal hurt his son?
“Easy.” Akihiro was at his side, holding him up, a steadying hand between Logan’s shoulder-blades, an arm wrapped around Logan’s chest; he was looking down at Logan with worry. “I told you. I’m fine. He reactivated the Death Seed, but I defied him. The Seed’s gone now. And Romulus is human.”
Like Remus. The two wonders, the titans, the twins, rendered nothing. It was viscerally, gleefully satisfying.
“And you’re fine?” Logan questioned, disbelieving. All evidence pointing to it, a damn miracle.
Akihiro smiled like a shark. ‘I defied him’, indeed. “I’m fine, Logan. It’s gone. It’s over. He’s nothing. And Remus will be gone soon too.” He clasped Logan’s shoulder.
Yes. Shit, he could believe it.
The monsters who’d tortured them, who’d ruined their lives, were done for. It was only a matter of time.
Or, perhaps, a matter of seconds. Jean’s voice resounded in his mind, and judging from the way Akihiro’s fingers jumped against Logan’s flesh in clear surprise, in Akihiro’s too. He probably still wasn’t accustomed to mansion-wide announcements.
Attention, everyone. Members of the Inhuman royal family are teleporting on the grounds, in order to parley. Please refrain from attacking them.
He supposed the announcement meant there was a real risk that some hothead would try and attack. He recalled that his friends had gone to war with the Inhumans while he was with Soteira. Scott had died too, and Logan couldn't imagine the strain that this was taking on Jeannie. Or on Emma, for that matter.
Parley about what? Is it Remus? Logan reached out to Betsy, figuring Jean had enough on her plate. The timing of the thing didn’t leave much room for doubt. He wondered why would the Inhumans have Remus if she’d left with Azazel, but nothing else made sense.
It’s her , Betsy answered. We have her, Logan. It’s over.
Well, shit. Logan took a breath, and another, there in the kitchen with his son.
He took a breath and then another, and the weight in him lifted.
The nightmare was over.
Notes:
Next: Renewal.
.
[What did you think of the chapter? Was there a moment you liked the most? Let me know in a comment! ^-^ ]
Chapter 60: Renewal.
Notes:
It’s another one of my favorite chapters! And we’re getting to the end, can you believe it’s been two years? Time sure flies :D
I’d love to know what you think! Comments are the fuel that keep authors going ^-^Additional Warnings: there’s a 1300-words-long sexual encounter (rating’s the same as the fic, so M) in the last third of the chapter. It goes from “They kept kissing and caressing each other” to “They stayed like that, loose-limbed” and consists of three masturbation scenes.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
60.
This was how it ended:
Remus had reached out to the Inhumans for help, thinking their Terrigen Mist would reawaken her powers. She thought it would work because, aeons ago, she and Romulus had been made – molded, carved, just like Akihiro – into what they were now, by the same alien species who’d created the Inhumans. She’d spun a tale of being attacked by the X-Men, banking on the war from mere months before, hoping the hostility between the two groups would allow her to emerge victorious.
It could have worked, and they would have found themselves back into a nightmare.
But the Terrigen Mist didn't work anymore, a punishment for a proud people, impossible to reactivate; and most importantly, the Inhumans themselves had dwindled to nothing, decimated by genocide, and only the royal family and a few close allies remained. And the war, and their many hardships, had thought them caution.
So when Grey, who was already tracking them because she’d had an insight that Remus would go to them, contacted them on the matter they were pondering, on this distant almost-cousin who was asking for their help, they listened. They firmly subdued Remus’ means of travel – the demon Azazel, Wagner’s father apparently, never loyal but bound, perhaps, by millennia of acquaintance and the variable of what would happen if Remus retrieved her powers after he denied his help – and the two royal sisters came down to Earth to parley. To listen to the X-Men’s explanation, and decide.
The fact that Grey threw in an offer to help them reactivate the fabled Mist helped. And while a few X-Men thought her idea dangerous after what they’d suffered, they fell in line. They knew how it felt to become an endangered species.
So the X-Men converged on the conference room. Of the group staying in the lounge, only Akihiro, Jimmy, Laura, and Bellona went.
Logan had elected to avoid the parley, saying he trusted them all to keep Remus contained, and he left with his partners. Or fled. Remus had broken him. Akihiro seethed.
Jubilee dragged Gabby away.
Johnny’s pinched expression as he said he needed to call his sister to update her almost made Akihiro vacate the meeting, but Johnny was obviously mulling over whatever had troubled him that morning. Akihiro escorted him to their room, changed into the costume the X-Men had issued him for their search missions, and made Johnny promise to text immediately if he needed Akihiro to be there. Then he rushed down to the conference room.
There, Grey explained to the Inhumans what had happened. She told them that they held Remus’ brother, too, bound and human as well. She told them of the twins’ twisted experiments, spanning millennia, a tale that made Akihiro’s insides churn; he was the last one of a long, long line of destroyed people.
Grey told the Inhumans that they’d had no other choice but to incapacitate both monsters.
Akihiro’s mother testified. It was a sort of trial, in a way, the defendant nowhere in sight, only judges facing each other. Akihiro’s mother told of coming back to life, of being eradicated from herself and working for the monstress. She was cold and precise, wrapped inside herself, the mirage of Remus’ punishment holding her together, and Akihiro ached for her and wondered how he could help her when this was finally over.
Her testimony was horrible, but all things considered she’d been treated “well”. It wasn’t the nightmare Grey had described, and no amount of visions torn from Romulus’ very mind would sway the Inhumans. Bellona spoke too, with Laura standing nearby for comfort, but she hadn’t been tortured, she’d just been… kidnapped and mind-wiped and even enhanced. And what had been done to Logan didn’t even register as harm. Or rather, it was all easy to sidestep when it was two powerful compatriots’ powers on the line. The Inhumans needed to renew their blood; they were listening, and very intently, but they were in survival mode, and could very well decide to aid Remus and Romulus.
They needed cold hard facts; they needed a tale of horrors so great that they couldn’t turn the other way. Akihiro stepped up.
He told of being torn from his mother’s womb, of being carved again and again. He’d prepared for this, Grey and Laura and Lorna and Johnny had helped him find himself, and his encounter with Romulus had been the test-bed. And he’d already had an audience to the part of his tale that the Inhumans didn’t need to know, so he didn’t care that he was sprouting his life story to impassive strangers. He stood tall and proud and relayed the pain of fifty years of conditioning and terror, of being unmade and rebuilt. But the Inhumans had a rigid caste system and not even this would shock them if they decided that Remus and Romulus had the right to unmake those inferior to them, if they decided that the twins were their equal and that all others were just subjects.
The queen’s sister was the most touched by his story. While Medusa sat straight and regal, listening in silence as if holding court, Crystal was a study in mounting horror, her that had mingled with humans the most. She was pale, her eyes wide, her hands wringing in her lap. She wasn’t inscrutable, but very much affected. She was the one to turn to.
And he won her over. It was anticlimactic, after everything, after a million things going against them, after months of doubt. She just looked at her sister after a particularly detailed description, and the queen raised a hand to interrupt him and said that the matter didn’t concern the Inhumans, as Romulus and Remus were mere humans.
Just like that, Remus was to be handed over to the X-Men. They’d work with S.H.I.E.L.D., decide a protocol, decide where to hold the two monsters, what to do when Logan’s child was born. And there was the issue of Logan’s genetic material, hidden somewhere by Remus, and they needed to ascertain if there were other mind-wiped women running around; but that would take just a brief foray in Remus’ mind.
The X-Men had won.
Another Inhuman appeared, barbarian-like, with Remus in tow; the monstress was bound and gagged, absolutely furious, her eyes flashing. But Akihiro wasn’t paying attention anymore.
The monsters had been declawed.
And now he needed to help pick up the pieces.
His mother was standing ramrod straight in a corner, her gaze fixed on Remus; trembling with rage and relief. He lightly touched her arm. “Okaasan.”
She came awake, her attention pulled from the monstress. She heaved a shuddering breath and placed her hand on his, smiling, centering herself. “My Akira. It’s over,” she said in Japanese, a quiver in her voice.
“It is.” He covered her hand with his and studied her features. He knew that look; he’d seen it in the mirror, that very same morning. “You’re free, mother.”
She exhaled, her eyes fluttering shut. “I struggle to believe it.”
“Don’t. It’s real.” Akihiro brought her hand to his lips and kissed it. “She won’t hurt you again.”
And Logan. She wouldn’t hurt Logan anymore, either.
Akihiro wanted to destroy the monstress for what she’d done to his parents, but there were more important things to do now. The twins had been brought low, below his notice. They were relics and they were done and never again would they hurt his family.
It was time to live.
His mother opened her eyes; her gaze flickered towards her bound captor. They were taking the monstress away, struggling and snarling like the animal she was. People were leaving the room. He exchanged a glance with Lorna, who smiled at him, then with Laura, who was accompanying their sister away.
His mother and Bellona would take time to heal; but the seeds were planted. They were safe now, and Akihiro would be there for them.
Someone else would update Logan; Akihiro would take care of his mother. He returned his gaze to her.
She was grimacing, a self-deprecating smile. “I was ready to hunt her down,” she confessed with a whisper. She smelt painfully ashamed.
He held her hand between his. “I’m glad you didn’t.”
“I would have lost myself again.” She hung her head.
“You didn’t.” Akihiro brought her hand to his heart and swore to himself he’d see her restored. He’d help her heal. “I understand the pull of violence. I understand wanting revenge. There’s nothing to be ashamed of, mother. It didn’t happen, and that’s what matters.” He was reminded, in a way, of his own struggle regarding Zach, that almost-done that tortured him. He understood that now it was too soon to get through to his mother, her supposed transgression fresh in her mind.
“It could have,” she murmured, sure enough. “Ah, I speak so well; when I’m with Frost she makes so much sense. But when confronted with… with her,” she shivered, “I feel no restraint. I revert to the blood-thirsty woman I was before Jasmine Falls. I failed.” Her voice cracked.
His heart clenched.
“No, you didn’t. I know you passed on the opportunity to confront her, mother. You chose to help my brother; then, when you could have still joined the fight, you stood back again. You helped my father and Bellona. You kept away from Remus. Didn’t you?” He squeezed her hands, smelling tears forming in her eyes. He wasn’t cut out for this, he didn’t even know if he was making it better, but damn him if he didn't try. “You did feel restraint. You fought what she did to you, and you regained yourself. The you that you fought so hard for. It’s still there. You’re still you. She didn’t take your progress from you. She… She put it on hold, but she didn’t take it from you.”
She looked up, her cheeks streaked with tears. God, he couldn’t see her like this. He’d fucked up; he should have left the psychotherapy to Frost -
But… His mother was smiling. She raised her free hand and cupped his jaw. “You're a good son,” she said softly. His heart skipped a beat. “Will you walk with me outside?”
Arms linked, they left the mansion. She didn’t speak and he let the silence linger, sensing she was working through something. He knew that feeling. She was quietly intense, her tears drying on her cheeks. They walked the crowded lawn, indifferent to the world moving around them. He could do this forever: just silently wander with his mother. His mother and him, finally reunited. God, he still couldn’t believe it. He’d do right by her. He’d help her, and cherish her, in any way he could.
She steered them towards the park. It was a beautiful sunny day, and there were many people; a few heads turned in their direction. They were both wearing their costume: she’d donned the one Remus had given her, perhaps to rub it in Remus’ face; he understood the thought process behind it.
New Yorkers were used to heroes casually strolling by in their costumes, and Central Park dwellers were used to the X-Men especially doing so, but Akihiro and his mother were new faces. They were obviously attracting a bit of attention. He wondered if it bothered her, but she looked oblivious to it, focused on something else; a woman on a mission. God, she was so beautiful.
Eventually he realized that she was heading towards the Ramble, that piece of wild forest in the middle of the park. The trees shaded them as they left the maddening crowd; not many braved that area for casual strolling. He wondered if his mother knew the place’s reputation, but no one would dare attacking two costumed people. And if they did, they would be in for a nasty surprise.
They passed birdwatchers, and couples. She steered them off the path and he followed her, wondering what sharp purpose was leading her. She was avoiding the infamous spots, so she knew what place they were walking; what brought her here? She was looking around; searching for what?
In a little clearing she dropped to her knees by some roots and he understood, recognizing the tree andthe few others around them. It was a small piece of home, far from the more trafficked areas. Cherry trees abounded in the park and were always mobbed during blooming season, but these few specimen would never be popular spots. A lump in his throat, Akihiro joined his mother on the ground. “Okaasan.”
She glanced at him. “It seems a secluded spot. Do you concur?” She smiled as if letting him on a secret, dimples forming in her cheeks. She was so lovely; it struck him dead.
He sniffed around. People had been here, even recently, but they’d been respectful. Perhaps it was a good hiding place for birdwatchers; or perhaps, his mother’s fellow countrymen and weeboos had her same idea. No couple seemed to have ever come here. “I do.”
She took on a graver air, pulling her kotachi blades from her belt. She set them on the ground and sat silently for a moment. He held his breath, wondering what she was going to do.
In the solemn atmosphere – they were so deep into the small forest that the traffic of the city and the park’s going-ons were mostly muted even for him – she spoke the archaic Japanese she’d used just one time, two days before.
“I renounce the path of blood,” she said slowly, with the cadence of ritual. “I swear to uphold the tenets we live by. These things I swear: I swear to never harm another being; I swear to seek out the wisdom of my elders; I swear to help those who come seeking help. These things I swear to do.”
She hung her head, then fell into formal dogeza, her palms and forehead touching theroots. He sat perfectly still, not wanting to ruin the moment. It was important to her; he would perhaps never understand completely renouncing one’s violent ways. He was trying to do better in that regard too, but he didn’t feel the sharp twinge of shame that his mother experienced, that even Logan had felt once.
But this was viscerally important to her. He held still, and bowed his head.
Eventually she sat up. She had a serene expression on her face, as if a great weight had been lifted off her shoulders. He was glad of it. He knew there was still work to do, but he could tell that this had been a first step that she’d needed. She turned towards him, her hands on her knees. Her head still bowed.
“Now I have two choices before me.” She returned to a contemporary Japanese, although highly formal. “I can bury my weapons. I did it once, in Jasmine Falls.” Her breath hitched.
He looked down at the blades, recalling the box he’d seen them in, when he’d experienced her memories. It was the very same blades she’d used before Jasmine Falls, then; the issue hadn’t crossed his mind. Remus must have dug them up for her, desecrating the ritual.
Was this part something that happened after the ritual fight? What would they have had Logan bury, he wondered?
“Or I can hand them over for safekeeping,” his mother added. “And I would be honored if you accepted them, my son.”
He inhaled sharply. The offer had considerable significance; he could think of others better suited to such a task, others who didn’t share his bloodied past, which she knew about, or that had renounced it in their own way. But she was asking him.
He bowed deeply. “And I’d be honored to accept them.”
He kept still, eyeing the blades. He was uncertain of what should happen now. Should he reach out and take them? Was she allowed to touch them one last time? But if there had been a protocol to follow she’d have told him, surely?
“Please take them,” she said, returning to archaic Japanese. She carefully caught the two short swords by their blade, presenting them hilt-first with a bow of her head. He took them gingerly, almost dizzy with the weight of this moment. Overwhelmed by her trust.
A sigh escaped her lips when the blades left her hands. It was filled with relief, with joy. It made his heart ache.
“I’ll keep them safe,” he attempted.
She smiled, bright and radiant. “Thank you, Akira.” She reached out and closed his hands around the hilts, careful not to touch the blades . “Thank you for doing this.”
“Of course.” The ritual was over, then. She untied her belt and handed it to him.
“To transport them to the school,” she explained as he took it. “But they are never to be used.”
“I understand.”
He put it on. The sturdy material was old, worn out. The blades looked ancient too, several hundreds of years old. The question was on the tip of his tongue; a growing, distinct suspicion.
“They are your birthright,” she said, a flicker of nostalgia and then guilt in her eyes. “I couldn't tell you before I offered. The acceptance must come unblemished.”
“I understand.” He weighed a blade on his palm. “They come from… from our family?” he asked, his voice very little. An heirloom, a link to those faraway shamans? To people that could very well be all dead by now?
Her parents, at least, were surely dead. His grandparents; a notion so remote it didn’t hurt him. But that knowledge must be weighing heavily on her. Did she want to try and reach that distant place again, her home? He’d help her do it. He’d go with her if she asked.
“They’ve been handed down our family for generations.” She folded her hands in her lap. “They were made by a brother who studied metallurgy. The hilts amplify our pheromones -” She broke off, a bit wide-eyed. “You can’t -”
“I can’t use them. I understand,” he reassured her. Obviously he’d have jumped on the opportunity to feel so close a link to his mother if she hadn’t been returned to him; but she was alive. He didn’t need to use them to feel close to her. Not to mention it would be horribly disrespectful. He quickly sheathed them. “Not to worry, mother. I have blades of my own.”
Her face fell, and he cursed himself. Oh, to see her so saddened! It killed him. She grabbed his hands, his bloodied hands. “Oh, my son. My Akira. I’m so proud of you.”
He ducked his head; her knowing, loving gaze was suddenly too much. “Okaasan -” he choked out.
“You suffered much, but you have overcome all hardships,” she murmured, squeezing his hands.
“I’m sorry you had to witness that,” he choked out, addressing the elephant in the room. What had had happened in Romulus’ cell, what she’d heard. What he’d just said in the conference room, too. “I wanted to tell you at my own pace.” Elated by having her at his side, he’d only given her a summarized version of his life, starting from the beginning, from Akihira and Natsumi. And that had upset her enough; even if he’d wanted to, he couldn't have told her in detail about Romulus then. “It must have hurt you greatly.”
She shut her eyes. “It pained me, yes. But my heart soared, because you rose above it. You vanquished that monster.” She opened her eyes, her gaze fierce. “But do not force yourself to speak of it,” she said firmly, squeezing his hand. “You can tell me at your own pace, my sweet son. I will wait. Your strength humbles me. I hope I can do the same. I hope I can leave the past behind me.”
He was stupefied, his heart hammering in his ears. “You are strong, mother. So much. You have an iron will. Look at what you just did!” he gestured at the belt. “It took me years to be here. But you...” He held her hands. “Your strength humbles me.”
She smiled sadly. “Smoke and mirrors. I’m drawing on what I learned at Jasmine Falls, my son, but I know I’m far from healed yet. I’ll have to fight to reclaim myself.”
“Me too,” he said. It was a long road ahead of him. Of them. But they were on the right path. “It’s a journey we can take together.”
She cupped his jaw, her smile strained. “I’d be honored.”
He was sure she’d prevail. She was so strong, so focused; she’d rise above what the monstress had done to her, what Romulus had done to her. And he’d do anything to help her reclaim herself.
She was more talkative as they went back, that terrible weight lifted off of her. He didn’t think she’d given herself any time to face what had happened and confront her retrieved memories; events had conspired against it. They’d all jumped at the opportunity to retrieve Logan, and his mother hadn’t had any time to sit down and have a real session with Frost.
Now this step had taken her away from the despised persona Remus had forced her to wear, and closer to herself, to her beliefs, to her life. To her memories.
Watching her smile and talk of their homeland, a twinge of nostalgia in her voice, he couldn't help but think that it would do her a world of good to go back and find her roots. Perhaps her village still stood, maybe not hidden anymore. Or perhaps Jasmine Falls still existed, ready to welcome her, to guide her towards healing; Logan would know.
Logan. He had his own path to take; Summers had been right, and it had been shocking to see his father so defeated. He hadn’t even wanted to see Remus! He’d just fled. Akihiro understood that feeling, and it chilled him to the bone to think Logan had been in the monstress’ clutches as Akihiro had been in her twin’s. Sadistic bastards. At least – small mercies indeed – Remus had never tortured his mother. The torments bestowed upon her had been psychological; and it would take her enough time to come back from that.
A life ripped away, and replaced with something else. Akihiro could relate only partially; he knew how it was to find out one’s life’s a lie, to be destroyed… But he couldn’t know how it felt to have oneself completely erased. Logan knew; he could talk about it with mother, perhaps.
But maybe that wouldn’t do any good to Logan. Maybe this was just the child in Akihiro rearing its head; the one who’d only ever wanted a family, who hoped that just by talking, his parents would find their way back to each other.
The truth was that Munroe and Wagner were good for Logan, tempering and comforting. The truth was that he didn’t even know how his mother felt about Logan; when she’d said she loved him, she’d used the past tense. And while it stung, his mother and his father didn’t need to get back together in order for the three of them to be a family.
The ties that bound them were stronger than that. Their family was larger than that, so many people bound together. And if his mother wanted to bring someone else into it, if she found some piece of her family hidden away, Akihiro would welcome them gladly.
He looked at her, he laughed with her, and he knew that everything would be all right.
They’d reached the school lawn and were nearing the entrance stairs when the mansion door flung open and a figure stood in the doorway, wide-eyed and panting as if having just run there.
It was Zach.
Akihiro hadn’t seen him in months, since that fateful day on this very lawn, when Akihiro had uncovered additional damage he’d done to the boy and, confronted with those resurfaced memories, had attempted to take his own life in front of the poor kid, traumatizing him even more. Zach shouldn’t be here; there was supposed to be a system in place, to avoid meeting like this, for the boy’s own protection and Akihiro’s peace of mind.
Akihiro supposed that with all that was happening, security was lax.
His mother squeezed his arm; he’d stopped in his tracks and he was staring, knowing he should call out to Grey immediately, or ignore Zach and walk away, but the boy’s presence – alive, seemingly well, bent on breaking rules as always, and most importantly, no power dampener around his neck – filled Akihiro with a relief so stark, he hadn’t expected. Zach’s well-being was one of the things that had brought him back from the Seed awakened by Romulus, and it overwhelmed him to see it confirmed.
The boy looked well.
He barreled down the steps and stopped just before colliding with the two of them, hastily performing a bow towards Akihiro’s mother. The motions were rusty, and clearly practiced. Then he straightened up and he had eyes only for Akihiro. “You’re okay!” he exclaimed.
Akihiro didn’t answer, taken aback. Did even the students know what had happened? Maybe not, because Zach wasn't looking at him with that special mixture of pity and rage on his behalf; just with unblemished worry. Akihiro’s gaze flickered to the boy’s neck; if he could use his powers again, that meant -
Zach grimaced. “Look, I felt it take over. I got worried. They wouldn’t let me come help -”
Yes. That explained it. Akihiro’s features softened. “I’m fine. It’s completely gone.”
“I felt that too!” Zach puffed out his chest. “But I wanted to make sure you’re okay, considering.” His eyes darted towards the lawn, then quickly back with a wince, as if he couldn’t help it. Akihiro didn’t need to turn to know where exactly Zach was looking.
He put on a stern expression. “You should get inside.” This had been a mistake; he shouldn’t have indulged Zach. If the boy had been well enough to talk to Akihiro, Akihiro would have been informed.
Zach sighed. “Oh, come on. I’m fine.”
“We’ll go, then.” Akihiro tugged at his mother’s arm, attempting to direct her away, but she was studying Zach, a curious expression on her face. “Mother, we need to go,” he told her in Japanese.
“What is the matter? Who is this young man?” she asked.
Zach huffed; he understood perfectly what they were saying. He bowed again. “I’m Zachary. Honored to meet you!” The formal greeting was jarring, coming from him.
Akihiro switched to archaic Japanese. “Months ago I was possessed by that thing you saw yesterday.” Zach furrowed his brows when he realized he couldn’t quite grasp what was being said. “I wronged him badly while under its influence. I was trying to… to get rid of it, to protect Gabby from it, and I… I kidnapped him.” His mother squeezed his arm, her breath hitched. He risked a glance at her, fearful of what he’d see, but there was no horror on her features.
Obviously, though, there were worry and confusion. “But you weren’t in control of your actions?”
Akihiro shook his head. He didn’t want to make excuses; he couldn't help but wonder what would his mother think of Evan’s beating, of everything he’d done before. He’d even sold his half-siblings to punish Logan for killing Romulus; something he had yet to apologize to Logan about. Yes, he’d changed, but all those monstrosities were still in his past. He needed to tell her all the bad things he’d done. He’d been remiss in that; he hadn’t glossed over it, but he hadn’t been precise either. Even in the conference room, while he hadn’t shied away from what exactly he’d been trained to do, he hadn’t focused on his killings.
“At the beginning I was still somewhat in control of myself, and I tried to use him to get rid of that thing, because he can delete other people’s powers. Then it took over.” He hung his head. “I wasn’t a good person, mother. I used to hurt people. I hurt many people. And I hurt him. I… I hit him. He lost control of his powers because of me. He’s been recuperating, but he shouldn’t be talking to me if his caretakers didn’t give permission.” Still looking down, Akihiro addressed Zach in English. “We both know you shouldn’t be talking to me.”
“Shut up,” Zach snarled with such force that Akihiro’s head whipped up. Zach crossed his arms, looking thunderous. “That was rude as hell but I still can get the gist of what you said.” He looked at Akihiro’s mother, who stood stock-still and shocked and oh, Akihiro’s heart ached. Zach bowed again. “Listen, he didn’t hurt me consciously.”
Akihiro’s heart skipped a beat: the last word meant that Zach’s therapist had really managed to make him face what had happened.
Still, he was taking time out of his healing process, risking to ruin everything, just to reassure Akihiro’s mother; and it was alarming that he still felt enough of a link to Akihiro to defy his therapist’s orders. Akihiro called out to Grey; the right thing to do, which he should have done from the beginning.
Zach came to talk to me. Can someone come and get him?
On it, Grey answered immediately; her voice was very soft. Akihiro, remember what we talked about.
I do.
The only reason why Akihiro wasn’t stabbing himself in the head again was because of all the hard work he’d done with Grey. Still, Zach needed to leave, because if he’d been healed enough to be here, Akihiro would have been warned. The boy obviously still had work to do.
And Logan’s kidnapping had put Grey’s work on Zach’s kidnapping on hold. Akihiro wasn’t ready for this conversation.
“It was that thing, the Death Seed,” Zach was saying. “He kidnapped me and he used me for my powers and sometimes he shoved me, or hit me.” His voice quivered but he spoke clearly, and Akihiro felt a wild surge of gratitude for the boy’s therapist. They’d managed to make him see and, most importantly, they’d started a healing process. “But those violent parts,” Zach shrugged, “those were on the Death Seed. I could always sense it, so you can trust me on that.” He grinned.
Akihiro’s mother was gripping at his arm. “I… see.” And it chafed, that shock in her voice. She knew he’d had a violent past, but this was the first time she was confronted with it in a tangible way. The first time she saw the damage on others.
“Be that as it may, Zach, I think you really need to go.” Akihiro then made to unfasten the belt his mother’s blades hung from. She caught sight of his movement and stayed his hand.
“What are you doing?” she said imperiously.
He motioned at the blades. “I’m not worthy of keeping them for you, mother.”
She shook her head, her mouth a thin line. “That is not true. I gave them to you fully knowing who you are.”
“See, that is not entirely correct. You still don’t know many bad things -”
“I know what I see now,” she said firmly. “And that is what’s important to me.”
“Mother -” Akihiro passed a hand over his face, overwhelmed. Zach’s gaze was snapping between them, following the conversation. Akihiro groaned. “Zachary, you need to leave.”
“That is exactly what you need to do, Zach,” a new voice joined them. Akihiro whirled around; a man in his thirties, whom Akihiro had seen on the premises over the past months, was striding towards them, teleported on the grounds by Megan Gwynn; the young teleporter left after throwing a curious glance at them. The man was probably Zach’s therapist.
Zach rolled his eyes. “You said this was a ‘conversation I needed’,” he retorted, making air quotes. The man reached the three of them and gently clasped Zach’s arm.
“Not in this environment and not now. You cannot spring on people, Zach,” the man explained with a quiet, measured voice. He began to lead Zach away, the motion accepted with less moroseness than Akihiro would have imagined, and nodded at Akihiro and his mother. “We’ll speak again, I suppose,” he told Akihiro.
The man moved protectively, in a strictly professional way, but there was no aggressiveness in his stance. Akihiro watched them retreat; when they were separated by enough distance and people, Zach began whispering furiously. The therapist listened intently as they walked away, nodding every now and then.
Akihiro returned his attention to his mother. She was looking at him, standing tall and proud and absolutely bent on having her way. He sighed. “Mother, you should think it over.”
“Nonsense.” She pursed her lips. “I understand perfectly what you meant before. You’re on a path, just as me. You’re not perfect, but what of it? Nobody is. You think Jasmine Falls was filled with virtuous people? We were all there because we hurt other beings, over and over again.” She grimaced, likely recalling her more recent bloodied past too. Then she smiled, her features softened. “No one is irredeemable, if one decides to put in the hard work.” She looked at him with such quiet fierceness. “The important thing is that I trust you. The important thing is that the man in front of me isn’t the same man who kidnapped that boy, who hurt people. You do know this.”
He did. And he wasn’t that man anymore. But it was one thing to discuss hypotheticals, and another to be faced with reality.
And it was another thing entirely, to realize she probably wanted to pull him with her on a path of complete non-violence; and he didn’t know how he felt about that. Fighting was all he’d ever known. It was like sex in that regard, but while it had been a welcome relief to find himself on the matter of his asexuality, he wasn’t filled with yearning at the idea of renouncing violence altogether. The fact that he didn’t want to hurt people, that he was working on finding different outlets, that he was drawing lines on his behavior, didn’t mean he couldn’t find himself stabbing anyone anymore if needs be.
He could lead towards Laura’s no killing strategy, maybe – and hadn’t he already, with Romulus? - but he couldn’t be what his mother wanted. And he didn’t want to disappoint his mother…
But he really ought to stop jumping to conclusions.
He dipped his head. “I thank you for your trust. I’ll take care of your weapons, mother.”
She smiled. Akihiro took a deep breath.
“As for the rest, while I understand what you’re saying, and I strive towards a more enlightened path, I think you and I approach our future in a different way. I’m ashamed of what I did, but I cannot shy away from what I learned, however much pain it brought me. I think I can use violence to do some good.”
He was startled at the words coming unexpectedly out of his mouth, realizing they were true; that he was uncovering a path for himself as he spoke.
A path of repentance, perhaps.
He recalled his own musings from weeks ago, cut short by Remus’ diversion: while waiting for Johnny in that restaurant terrace, glancing through windows at a world of heroes, he’d pondered joining an X-team.
In the following weeks, looking for Logan with the X-Men, he’d done it all but nominally.
Perhaps he should make it official.
But for now, what mattered was his mother. His mother, staring at him, her lips trembling, but no hate or disgust in her misty eyes. He reached up, fearful of having upset her, and she caught his hand, and she stood on tiptoes, and she kissed his cheek, nothing but love and understanding in her scent.
“Everyone has their own path to follow, my son,” she said when she moved away, her gaze clear and honest. “I am proud of you.”
A lump in his throat, Akihiro could only nod. “We can still walk it together until the crossroads.”
“Of course.” She patted his cheek, gently. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, Frost is waiting for me.”
With all that had happened – and with all he’d disclosed! - she definitely needed to talk with the telepath. He was glad the woman had decided to take it upon herself to help his mother heal.
As for him… There was much on his mind. Perhaps he should follow Summers’ suggestion from that morning.
Grey, are you available? he called out when his mother was inside the building.
Of course.
Fishing his phone out of his pocket, Akihiro texted Johnny that he was having a session with Grey; then he went to join the woman in her office.
She looked a bit strained when he reached her doorway, pale, but she welcomed him warmly. All the same, he stood by the sofa, remembering her own ordeal from the day before, and that she’d spent a good part of today looking for Remus and then overseeing the monstress’ handout.
“Are you all right? I can come by at another time.”
She smiled. “I’m okay, Akihiro. Take a seat.” She waved a hand. “It’s true I have my own struggles, but they’re attended to.”
That was obviously all she’d say on the matter. He sat down.
“So,” she began, leaning against her chair. “What do you need to talk about?”
Perhaps anyone would have expected him to tackle his clash with Romulus, but the realization from that morning still lingered; the monster had been vanquished, his hold considerably diminished. Akihiro had never felt so at peace, so confident of his own means, so sure he’d heal from those wounds.
Of course, Grey wasn’t anyone, and she’d sensed the change in him.
They talked of more recent events, of Johnny’s apparent struggle and Logan’s and his mother’s, of Akihiro’s resolution to be there for them and help. She commended it, but urged him not to strain himself and seek out help if he was overwhelmed.
“I’m offended you feel the need to point it out,” he scoffed.
She smiled.
He spoke about the conversation with his mother, and with Zach; about the things he’d realized.
He couldn't hide from the past; he needed to address it and move on. He needed, too, to make amends.
There was something Zach had said, a careful wording Akihiro kept returning to. Zach had said that ‘those violent parts’ were the Seed’s fault; but he’d firmly differentiated the kidnapping from them. And Akihiro was glad the boy could make that distinction, because it meant he was truly working through everything; at the same time, it reminded Akihiro of his own shortcomings. It put everything back in perspective and pushed him towards action.
He didn’t want to be that man anymore.
He left Grey’s office with a new resolution and Grey’s reassurance that she’d back him up when he decided to breach the subject with Pryde. But he wouldn’t do it now; the day was coming to a close and they were all of them exhausted.
And he had a more important thing to do: return to the man he loved.
He reached his room. The corridor was enveloped by silence; given the early hour and the excitement of victory, no one was staying in their room, everyone gathered in small groups, happily exorcising the last few weeks. But he suspected that Johnny was still cooped up in there and, now that he was here, he could smell that Johnny was in fact inside, quiet, his heartbeat calm. Akihiro gently opened the door.
Johnny was on their bed, dozing off, lines of weariness on his beloved features, his back against the headboard. Akihiro studied him for a moment, his heart overcome by tenderness and love and intent. He shut the door silently, but Johnny must have been on the verge of wakefulness already; he blinked and sat up, his gaze drawn to Akihiro.
“Hey,” he murmured at the tail end of a yawn.
“Hey. Sorry I woke you up.”
Johnny shook his head. “No, I was waiting for you.” He rubbed a hand against his eyes.
Akihiro reached the dresser and carefully set down his mother’s belt and blades. “Do you want to have dinner?”
“Not… Not right now.” Johnny’s heart skipped a beat. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there to support you, Aki.”
“What?” Furrowing his brow, Akihiro turned to face Johnny, who was biting his lower lip and gazing at him worriedly.
“You said you had to have a session?” Johnny grimaced. “Was it seeing Remus? Did she remind you of… of Romulus?”
Akihiro felt a wild surge of affection. “No, dearest, I’m all right. I told you, I’m okay on that front.” He slipped out of his costume boots and joined Johnny on the bed, nestling against his warm side.
Johnny wrapped an arm around him. “So what -” He trailed off, glancing at the blades. “Are those your mother’s?” he asked, brows furrowed. “Is she all right?”
“She’s fine. I… We met Zach.”
“Oh.” Johnny squeezed his arm. “How was he? Are you all right?” he said gently.
“I am now. He was… He looked well. His therapist seems to be helping him.”
Johnny hummed, his heartbeat a bit erratic. Akihiro pressed a palm against his partner’s chest.
“Are you all right, dearest?” he inquired softly. He couldn’t forget how Johnny had weepily clung to him that morning, before they went down for that breakfast turned into lunch with Akihiro’s family. Johnny had seemed better, albeit quiet, but then the Inhumans’ visit had made a shadow pass over his face again. And he’d holed himself up here, and Akihiro had let him go, because he knew when one needed space. And he knew Johnny hadn’t wanted to talk today. But it killed him, to see Johnny hurt.
“I’m… Shit.” Johnny pressed his palm to his face and took a few deep breaths. Akihiro stroked his back, attempting to soothe him. He smelt so upset. “I feel terrible,” Johnny mumbled. “You’ve just got your dad back, and your mom, and -”
What had that to do with anything? “Johnny, it’s all right. Tell me.”
Johnny heaved a great, deep sigh. “I… I need to go home.”
“Okay.” Akihiro straightened up, still stroking Johnny’s back. “Is everything all right? Your family -”
“They’re okay. They’re all fine. It’s me, I… fuck.”
Johnny tore his hand away from his face, and Akihiro saw how tortured he looked, how bloodshot his eyes were.
His heart sank to his stomach. “Johnny, are you okay?”
He managed, with considerable effort, not to tinge his voice with panic; Johnny didn’t need to hear that. But it was a near thing.
Johnny winced. “I got to thinking. And I… I think I need to see someone. A therapist, I mean.” He took a breath and reached out, catching Akihiro’s hand, squeezing it. He looked at Akihiro and he looked sad – devastated, really – but determined. “I think I need to see someone who knows what they’re doing.”
“Okay,” Akihiro said softly, his heart thundering in his ears. “Okay. Are you… Johnny, are you all right? Talk to me. I can help -”
“No, okay, I don’t want to burden you. Not until I know what the shit fuck I’m feeling. You’ve got enough on your plate.” Johnny cupped Akihiro’s cheek, so tenderly.
“But I’m here for you,” Akihiro whispered. He felt dejected and useless. He was better, he felt better. He could help Johnny out. He could support Johnny, comfort him as Johnny had comforted him.
Johnny’s features became so soft, a smile like the sun. “Yeah. But I need to know what I’m dealing with, okay? I need to take stock before I saddle you with this.”
It was exactly what Akihiro had done. He’d taken his time to be at least somewhat balanced, working things out with Grey, and only then had he approached Johnny. It was sound reasoning, it was the right choice. But it still chafed Akihiro.
“And I feel terrible for it, but I need to do it at home. I, I need to be with my family and talk with them.” Johnny thumbed Akihiro’s jaw, blinking away tears. “I’m sorry. I said I’d be there for you.”
“You have been.” Akihiro fought to push the words past the lump in his throat. He covered Johnny’s hand with his, lacing their fingers together. “You helped me. You were there when I needed you. We always knew you’d go home eventually, it’s fine.” It was. They’d never discussed what would happen when Logan came home; but they’d known that their arrangement was temporary. Hell, Akihiro had thought about it just that morning. He could weather the change. “And if you need it, if you need to heal from -” he broke off. “- from what is tearing at you. Then you go.”
“Yeah.” Johnny grimaced. “I need to go. I’m sorry.”
There was a sort of finality in his tone, that cut right through Akihiro’s heart. “You’re going now?” he asked; this time his voice trembled.
Johnny winced. “Sue’s coming to get me as soon as I text her. I needed to speak to you first, obviously.”
Johnny – or his family – didn’t even trust that he could fly safely such a short distance. That was how dire the situation was.
“Okay.” Akihiro heard his voice as if from far, far away. “Text her.”
“Hey.” Johnny gripped his arm. “I’m not leaving you,” he said firmly, fire in his eyes. “This isn’t a breakup. I love you.”
“I know.” Akihiro blinked and focused, counting his breaths. That wasn’t what had Akihiro so worked up. And while it was unconscionable to make this about him, he still needed to give Johnny a reason for his reaction. “I just thought that I could help you,” he whispered. “Be there for you, like you were for me. Because we’re together. That’s how it works.” His voice broke. He held Johnny’s hand.
Johnny’s features lit with realization. “But you did help me,” he murmured, bringing Akihiro’s hand to his mouth; brushing his lips against Akihiro’s knuckles. Akihiro trembled. “You made me realize in the first place,” Johnny said softly. “And you are there for me. I know you are. And you will be, when I can tell you. And I know it will help. But first I need groundwork, okay?” He never stopped looking at Akihiro, lashes wet with unshed tears, his beautiful gaze so careful and true. “Look at how Jean Grey helped you! You didn’t want to put all your hurt on me. I feel the same.”
He was right. He was right, of course; it was, in fact, a mature approach, the right approach. It hurt, but it was a good kind of hurt, because they were together. They could still weather the storm together.
“I understand,” Akihiro murmured. He cupped Johnny’s face, cradling it gently. “I really do. I want you to take care of yourself and feel better. It’s all right.”
“And we can still see each other,” Johnny pointed out, leaning closer. “Okay? Like we did before… before I came here. We’ll call each other and text and we’ll go out, and visit each other -” he enumerated all they’d done in the first weeks, eager to show that nothing would change, and Akihiro laughed wetly, because he was right. Nothing would change. They were still together. “Okay?” Johnny asked, unsure, leaning in, in, in, until their foreheads were pressed together. Searching Akihiro’s face, still a sliver of guilt in him.
Akihiro loved him with all his heart.
“Yeah. It’s all right. Take care of yourself.” He nuzzled Johnny’s nose, overwhelmed with tenderness. “We’ll go on thousands of dates.”
Johnny laughed, a bit wetly too. Then he was kissing Akihiro, soft, gentle, so tender. They leaned against the headboard and kissed and kissed and kissed, their hands grasping at anything, any part of each other that was available; Johnny reached up and pulled at Akihiro’s hair-tie and Akihiro’s hair cascaded all over them.
Akihiro basked in Johnny’s scent and tucked it away for safekeeping, like his mother’s blades. God, he’d never wash these sheets.
They kept kissing and caressing each other until Johnny whined, hips rocking, and Akihiro re-emerged to assess. Johnny was holding on to him, his eyes glazed, and he stopped moving too, catching his breath. They gazed at each other – there wasn’t just desire, in Johnny’s eyes, but a kind of naked desperation too, that Akihiro felt all too well. Even if Johnny going away didn’t mean they were done, it still felt like a goodbye. They’d been living together for weeks. It gave their embrace a bittersweet layer.
He kissed the angle of Johnny’s mouth, his heart filled with yearning. “You want to touch yourself, dearest?”
Johnny nodded eagerly and they were kissing again, Johnny’s hand going down to free himself. They’d done this enough times, in the past weeks, that the progression ought to be natural, practiced. But Akihiro, try as he might, couldn't move away to give Johnny enough space to kick his pants and boxers down; and Johnny wasn’t scuttling away from the headboard to give Akihiro enough space to slide behind Johnny; and they weren’t doing anything like what they’d settled on after so much careful experimenting. They were just a confused mess of limbs, tightly holding each other, kissing quite desperately; Johnny was rocking into his hand with uncoordinated little thrusts, and Akihiro inched closer and closer until he was, for all intents and purposes, straddling Johnny’s hip.
Johnny stopped and broke the kiss, his head rested against the headboard, his eyes fixed on Akihiro.
“Aki… Aki,” he panted. “Wait. Is this okay? You’re -” He dragged himself upwards, gesturing between them.
What Akihiro was: much closer than he’d ever been when they found themselves in this situation. In that split second before Johnny stopped, his hand had moved up and down directly against Akihiro’s thigh. Akihiro had felt the warmth, and the stiffness, of Johnny’s erection. And it was, indeed, okay. He wanted to be close, he ached for it, he wanted to feel Johnny against him, to hold him and never, never let go. He wanted to hold Johnny through it, like always, to keep Johnny close as he tensed like a chord and then the chord was cut with release.
“If it wasn’t,” he reassured Johnny, brushing damp hair away from Johnny’s forehead, “I wouldn’t have done it.”
Johnny bit his lower lip, his gaze searching all over Akihiro’s face. Oh, he was so beautiful. So lovely. “So you’ll just -”
“I’m staying here.” He kissed Johnny’s brow and positioned himself more comfortably, his other leg nestled between Johnny and the headboard. He held him tight. “Go on.”
Johnny did. Hesitantly at first, but then he found his rhythm again. He was looking at Akihiro and oh, God, he was so precious, so beautiful, Akihiro loved him so much. He held him close, chest to chest, Johnny’s arm wrapped around him tight, and they were so close and he was moving in such a disjointed, desperate way and he was staring up at Akihiro as if Akihiro was the second coming, and… and…
It took the wind out of Akihiro, the heat suddenly pooling in his belly, his libido reawakened by the proximity and the friction and hell, by the end of the nightmare too, the timid seeds of his self-actualization. And there was his searing love and the oncoming separation and the ache, oh, the ache for holding each other close, so close, for feeling each other, and he was pressed against Johnny and he yearned and then he couldn’t think anymore, he just thrust forwards and gasped and went back and forth again and keened and Johnny had already stopped moving, wide-eyed, he was saying ‘Aki?’, and Akihiro had enough wherewithal left in him to stammer ‘No, don’t stop… it’s okay, I’m…’ and then he was rutting desperately against Johnny’s hip as he peppered Johnny’s face with kisses, as Johnny kept asking him if he was sure and he nodded, nodded and chanted ‘Yes yes yes’ and clung to Johnny and chased a white hot star.
And he felt Johnny wrap his other arm around him too, and he was so warm, and he was rocking against Akihiro, giving him more friction. And it was okay, this was okay because it wasn’t a transaction, it wasn’t a desperate move to win someone’s affection, he was with Johnny and he trusted him not to do anything else, not to do anything Akihiro didn’t want. Akihiro loved him. And he wasn’t attracted to him, not like that, never like that, but he loved him and he needed this now, he needed to feel Johnny, to be with him. Johnny held him tight, so close, and Akihiro lost himself in the feeling of him, so strong and sure and warm.
Afterwards, catching his breath against Johnny’s shoulder, he shifted in Johnny’s lap, sated, content, so damn fucking much in love that he felt like his heart could burst out from his chest, and Johnny moaned softly as the motion provoked his own unattended erection. Akihiro reached between them.
Johnny caught his wrist and brought it up and brushed his lips against it, softly, his eyes blown, his gaze searing Akihiro’s very soul.
“Are you all right?” he questioned, voice rough. Akihiro shivered.
“Yeah.” His voice sounded dreamy, unfocused. The pungent smell stung his nostrils. He needed to shower, but not right now. He was so happy, there in Johnny’s arms, spent and slick with sweat. He sighed with contentedness.
Johnny held him close, kept brushing the faintest of kisses against Akihiro’s wrist. He shifted unobtrusively. He was obviously straining.
Akihiro nuzzled his cheek, and slid his free hand down Johnny’s side. “Let me.”
“Aki.” Johnny’s voice reined him in, in, in. “Do you want to?”
Akihiro pictured himself. He went through the motions, saw them in his mind’s eye, and the haze dissipated. While he wanted to hold Johnny close and kiss him and drink his moans from his mouth until he was shining bright from release, he didn’t want to touch him like that.
He’d acted on autopilot, still in the afterglow, reacting to Johnny’s obvious need, but Johnny had stopped him.
He sighed, resting his hand against Johnny’s waist. “No.”
“Okay. That’s all right.” Johnny kissed his wrist one last time and then tucked Akihiro’s hair behind his ear, so tenderly. Akihiro trailed his newly freed hand up Johnny’s back and pressed his forehead to Johnny’s temple, breathing in his scent. Johnny cupped the nape of Akihiro’s neck. “So. Are you okay, love?”
“Yes. I’m okay.” His voice was steady, now. More present to himself. He kissed Johnny’s cheek. “I love you,” he murmured. “I love you so much.”
“Me too, Aki.” Johnny turned just slightly, kissing the angle of Akihiro’s mouth. He was shivering a little, obviously trying to will his erection away and failing. Akihiro brushed his lips against Johnny’s.
“You can touch yourself, I don’t mind.”
“Yeah?” Johnny’s voice broke. “Do you want… you want to change position? Move away?”
“I’m exactly where I want to be.” Akihiro shifted just a bit back, and he held Johnny’s shoulders, pressing their chests together. “Go on. I’ve got you.”
With a wrecked moan Johnny took himself in hand. Akihiro held him and nuzzled his sweat-slicked hair away from his forehead and kissed his brow; and his heart, oh, it ached and floated in his chest, inflated, filled with love. Johnny’s fingers splayed between Akihiro’s shoulder-blades, and he spent himself quickly, with a shout that he buried in the crook of Akihiro’s neck.
Akihiro held him and stroked his back, feather-light, as Johnny’s heartbeat slowed down and he caught his breath. He held Johnny close, enamored, and he knew that it was going to be all right.
Johnny raised his head and that very same conviction, that certainty, was etched in his features. His hand joined the other on Akihiro’s back, and he held Akihiro close.
They stayed like that, loose-limbed, trading smiles and lazy kisses, while people started coming up the stairs, into rooms and then out, moving around, chattering, going on with their lives. They stayed like that, breathing each other’s air, until Akihiro smelt his three sisters approach, headed to Laura’s and Gabby’s room.
Then he reluctantly disentangled himself from Johnny and said, softly: “Shower.”
They washed each other, slow and careful. They kept interrupting what they were doing so they could kiss, just as slow, just as careful. Johnny held him close and they swayed in place, a little like dancing, the water rushing down around them. Then Johnny dried Akihiro’s hair, patting it carefully with a towel, massaging his scalp, the tips, then blow-drying it. Akihiro dried Johnny’s, and insisted to style it exactly as Johnny liked with Johnny’s favorite gel, which smelt horrid.
Naked, they returned to the room, and Johnny opened the wardrobe and picked the first things he saw. Akihiro peered inside, his eyes lingering on Johnny’s many clothes.
“I can help you pack,” he murmured.
“No.” Johnny shook his head as he buttoned his jeans. “How about… I leave everything here? I’ll need them when I stay over.” He reached out and linked their fingers together. Akihiro snorted, his heart light.
“Bold of you to assume I don’t need the extra space,” he teased.
Johnny gasped, feigning outrage. “My clothes! Would you really?”
“No, I’ll wear them every day.” He pulled Johnny by the collar of his shirt and kissed him, their noses brushing. Johnny’s hands run to his back and he kept stroking him, his hands warm. With a sigh Akihiro pressed a hand on Johnny’s chest. Left to their own devices, they’d keep stalling. It was time. “Text Sue.”
“Yeah.” Johnny collected his phone from the mess that was their bed and Akihiro took the opportunity to get dressed. He watched Johnny fiddle with the phone.
He’d get better. He’d get better and Akihiro would be there for him, and help him through it, until he’d finally be able to say what ailed him. And Akihiro would help him through it all.
Susan Storm arrived too fast, probably hovering nearby ever since she spoke with her brother. She landed on the lawn, now almost deserted as most were having dinner, and eyed Johnny critically as they approached her. After embracing her brother, she hugged Akihiro too, with a bone-crushing force. He let her, sensing she needed it, and shit, he needed it too.
She let go of him, searched his face, and nodded. “We’re taking care of him.”
“You better, Storm,” he choked out.
He caught Johnny before he climbed into the MK III and kissed him a little desperately, Johnny clinging to him, and they kept going until Akihiro could smell Sue Storm’s embarrassment.
He let go. “Sorry,” he threw her way. She was beet-red; she raised her hands in surrender.
“We should go,” she pointed out.
“Yep. Yeah.” Johnny nodded. He didn’t move. Akihiro thumbed his jaw, committing his features to memory.
Thousands of dates.
“Go,” he said softly. “And get better.”
“Yeah.” Johnny was staring at him with the same intensity that Akihiro supposed he was staring at Johnny with. “I will.”
Akihiro stared up at the flying vehicle until it was indistinguishable from the lights of the city. He imagined it touching down on the rooftop of the Baxter Building, and Johnny getting out, and joining his family. Being helped by them. It was a good image.
He smelt Laura from the moment she stepped out of the mansion. She reached him and stood beside him, silently. He drew strength from her.
When he thought he could look away from the stars without crying, he turned to face her. She was quietly studying him. She looked well-rested, happy. Gone was the tension she’d been sporting since Akihiro’s rescue; still, her brow was furrowed, and she obviously wondered what was wrong.
“Bellona and Gabby?” he stalled, just for a moment.
“They needed some time alone.” Laura let him have that brief second of respite, ever so gentle. Then she gave him that look of hers, the one that she’d first given him on Mystique’s plane, the one that told him she’d always be there for him. “What happened?”
Akihiro wrapped his arms around himself. What a day. What a long, impossible day. He trailed his fingers over the phantom lines of the tattoo Johnny had burnt away, and thought that he ought to ink his skin again. A new design was starting to form in his mind, stemming from all he’d gone through, all that was coming.
A new beginning.
“Change,” he answered.
Notes:
Next: Acceptance.
.
[The Inhumans’ situation was shown in 2018’ Death of the Inhumans.
I’d love to hear what you think! Leave me a comment if you want ^-^ ]
Chapter 61: Acceptance.
Chapter Text
61.
It was the strangest period of Logan’s life.
It was, by far, the most beautiful.
Living in a home surrounded by friends and family, aware of himself, working on himself. Every day was a journey that he took gladly, that he navigated with help. He’d been put off missions for the time being and he was okay with it, focused on himself, on getting better – for his partners, for his family, for his friends. But most of all, finally, for himself.
Once they got going, Betsy was thorough. She made him dredge out a lot of things from his long, long life of torments and it hurt, a bit, but it also didn’t, because he was finally taking care of himself. He was finally confronting all the horrid shit he’d been through, all the shit that had been forced on him, all the pain. And he was reemerging from it, stronger.
He was laying a reckoning on all the hurt he’d been delivered, not with bloody vengeance but with words. And the healing process he’d tried so many times to undergo, always abandoned because of yet more hurt, finally began in earnest. Many would say that he was the Wolverine and he only needed to push through, but those kind of people knew nothing.
Many would say that it was pointless, that new traumatic shit would knock him off his feet and destroy him once again; but that wasn’t an excuse not to try. He wasn’t alone; for the first time in his life, he was completely putting himself in his friends’ hands, and he was surrounded by people who loved him. And if it ended early – if someone attacked or a new threat came or someone got hurt – he wouldn’t abandon this road. He’d deal with the problem, and then come back to himself.
Trouble would always come – they were the X-Men, for God’s sake, he was Wolverine – but this time, he’d be ready. This time, he wouldn’t let himself be swept away by anything. He’d sworn it to himself.
He couldn’t have done it without those who loved him. Without his partners, his family, his friends.
He probably couldn’t have done it if the news coming after the telepaths scoured Remus’ mind, before she and her twin were shipped off to a maximum security prison, hadn’t been so good.
It turned out that Remus had been delusional.
Beaten down by thousands of years of attempts, her body had convinced itself that, now that she held the key, she was pregnant. But the reality was that the first insemination, the only one she had the time to try before they stopped her, wasn’t successful. She hadn’t lied to Logan when she’d said that she was pregnant; she’d been convinced of what she was saying, her body had been convinced.
Hank said that she was genetically incompatible with both homo sapiens and homo superior. She’d have had better luck with some Inhuman, maybe, or with some Kree.
Logan pitied her.
When he told Betsy, shocked by such a feeling towards his captor, towards someone who had harmed him that way, who had kept trapped his wife for ages, she said that it was okay. That it didn’t invalidate the rest of his feelings. People were allowed to have complex emotions.
Oh, he hated Remus. But still, he pitied her for this; for the slow descent into madness that the lack of what she so desired had forced her into. Then he got to thinking how horrifying the life of any child of hers could be, and how she and her brother had destroyed many lives; and the pity subsided.
Complex emotions.
It didn’t invalidate what she’d done to him either. The absence of a result didn’t mean that she hadn’t traumatized him.
He’d cried with abject relief when Akihiro brought him his genetic material, retrieved by a team from a safe-house that Jeannie had found in Remus’ mind. Logan and his partners had been waiting in the hangar since news of the mission’s success had reached the mansion, and his son had stepped down from the jet holding a freezing bag whose sight made Logan want to retch. After exchanging a glance with the rest of the team, his sister included, Akihiro had led Logan and his partners away from the hangar and he’d sat Logan down in Betsy’s office. She was already there.
Kurt and ‘Ro sat beside him as Akihiro silently offered him the bag. Logan counted the vials with shaking fingers; no one commented on how many there were, all lined up in their racks. When he finished counting he sat there, catching his breath, staring down at the bag.
Akihiro, crouched in front of them, lightly touched Logan’s knee. “Is this all of them?” he said, calm like a vengeful god, his eyes clear like the moment of quiet before the storm.
Logan nodded.
“Minus…” he cleared his throat. “Minus one.” He thumbed the hollow place where the one she’d managed to use had rested.
“Good.” Something passed in Akihiro’s eyes and then he stood up. “It’s over, Logan.”
He’d said it carefully, like a promise, and Logan had put his head in his hands and cried. The door had softly clicked shut as Akihiro left, and Logan had clung to Kurt and ‘Ro and he’d believed it.
So it began. And he was doing better, day by day. Night after night.
The twins were locked up real good. Logan hadn’t gone to watch when S.H.I.E.L.D. came, but Betsy eventually told him that both Itsu and Bellona had wanted to be there. Remus had gone quietly, with an uncaring, sneering expression. Romulus had been a fury, struggling all the way, and he kept looking around wildly as if expecting to see someone.
With that taken care of, Logan was getting better.
Some weeks after the handout, as he was sun-bathing on the lawn with his partners, finally able to breathe, Logan smelt Itsu’s scent and looked up to see her standing at a few yards away, her modern western clothing so incongruous to him, his brain used to see her dressed traditionally, in memories and hallucinations alike.
She was looking at them as if pondering something. They still hadn’t spoken past their conversation in the Cave, and Logan ached to talk. To see where they stood, at least. He’d talked with Kurt and ‘Ro already, extensively; he loved them so much. But he still felt a sliver of… of something for Itsu, perhaps magnified by the loss, and they understood. They told him to take all the time he needed to figure it out.
Difficult to do, when he couldn’t even speak with her, elusive as she was – an answer in and of itself, that. But now she was here and she was, perhaps, contemplating approaching them and his heart was in his throat.
‘Ro sat up and placed a hand on his; Kurt waved Itsu over.
Itsu joined them, but kept standing. She looked down at the three of them, bowed slightly to Kurt and ‘Ro, and rested her hands in her sleeves as if she’d been wearing a kimono.
“I was wondering if you’d like to take a walk with me, Logan,” she said clearly. “There are things we should talk about.”
That was an understatement.
She led them down a path in the park, walking at a few paces away from him, exactly as she used to do when he began courting her. There were a million questions in his head – how was she, really? She stood straight and proud as she always had, but he knew she must be reeling. Why hadn't she ever told him of her powers? She knew of his, after all.
Was she going to stay at the mansion?
She was keeping herself busy, helping dismantle Remus’ remaining hideouts and her whole empire and Romulus’ few still standing places; their son, and the rest of Logan’s family, were also helping with that.
Their son, an X-Man, with a costume and everything else! A teacher, even! Akihiro was leading a Japanese literature class that a surprising number of kids wanted into, and at times Logan struggled to believe that any of it was really happening. Then he’d see Akihiro walking to class with books under his arm, or heading for the situation room, or returning from a mission with Laura and Jimmy, and it hit him all over again.
Truth be told, Logan was a bit out of the loop, with all of them working together and his staying in, but he liked taking care of Gabby and, occasionally, Bellona; it was a balm for his heart to see the two sisters reunited, their bond incredibly strong. Bellona was responding well to the environment; she’d even decided to enroll. She, too, was healing, a bit at a time.
As for Itsu…
Logan didn’t know much, he only knew that she was having sessions with Emma Frost of all people. He knew that she was helping out the X-Men; and he knew that she’d appointed herself as mentor for Bellona and for the other two women that they discovered being mindwiped by Remus: a Russian 30-years old who they found waiting for orders in Madripoor, and a French woman in her fifties leading a cartel in Brazil. Both mutants, both “enhanced”, both absolutely furious and horrified when they regained their memories. They were staying at the mansion, too. For now, at least.
He also knew that she’d confronted the man who had killed her.
Bucky Barnes had just walked in one day, dressed in civilian clothes. Logan had been spending time with the girls when he caught sight of him, and he’d almost jumped up to drive Barnes away; he’d resolved his issues with the man years before, but Barnes’ presence was bound to upset Itsu and Akihiro. Laura had stopped him, though, laying a hand on his arm.
“They’re expecting him,” she’d calmly said, and sure enough, Frost had appeared and greeted him and led him up the stairs.
Barnes had re-emerged two hours later, looking almost stupefied, smelling of tears, and escorted by none other than Akihiro, who was walking very rigidly. At this point Logan had felt compelled to move closer, if nothing else to prevent bloodshed; Laura hadn’t stopped him, looking on with an assessing gaze. As Logan approached, he’d caught the end of what Akihiro was saying.
“- more forgiving than me. But she’s the only one whose decision matters here. You don’t need to expect any retaliation from me.”
Logan had stopped walking and he’d watched Akihiro watch Barnes go, his son’s features set. He’d been clutching at his newly tattoed arm, so colorful, a stark change after the old black tribal: it was completely covered with cherry flowers in full bloom; a vividly renditioned snake, a hint of shed skin near its tail, run between them in an intricate pattern, almost hidden by the bursts of petals. It was beautiful, and it reminded Logan not only of change and new life – he guessed that was the meaning behind it, although Akihiro hadn’t explained anything when he returned from a day-long trip with Lorna, he sporting the new tattoo, she a complicated hairdo – but also of Itsu, of his own memory of her that he’d shared with Akihiro so long ago. It had felt as if Akihiro was tying them all together. Or so Logan chose to believe.
The son he’d first met would have gutted Barnes where he stood. The son he had now simply watched the man go, his mother’s confrontation with Barnes putting a stop to anything else.
Itsu, returned to them after decades of being used, was dealing with her struggles in her way, a way that so far hadn’t contemplated Logan.
She was keeping herself incredibly occupied, and Logan knew that tactic all too well. But now she’d come to him.
This moment right here, this peaceful stroll, her finally asking him to talk, meant that she’d finally worked out what to say to Logan.
He let her set the pace of the meeting, content with just walking by her side, this miracle of a woman who’d once struck his heart with her fierceness and kindness, who was still alive. Just looking at her made his chest ache with gratitude and relief. She’d lived through a nightmare but now she was finally free, taking care of herself. He knew in his heart that she would overcome the pain, far more successfully than he’d ever been able to.
Akihiro shared his belief. He never disclosed whatever he’d discuss during his many meetings with his mother, but when Logan offered that certainty, wondering what his son would think of it, Akihiro was quick to agree, adamant that Itsu was on a path that would see her victorious. He was, too, always so relaxed and unbelievably soft when he saw Logan just after seeing Itsu. Mother and son had hit it off tremendously, and Logan was so glad that their son had managed to meet his extraordinary mother.
Even if the circumstances were horrifying, they could still make the most of them, and render them void and unimportant.
Eventually Itsu broke their silence.
“You look well,” she said in Japanese, still walking, throwing a brief glance his way. “I’m glad of it.”
He peered at her, at her serene gaze. She was as stunning as the day he first saw her. “You too. How are you -”
He broke off. A million questions swirling in his head.
She nodded as if she’d asked them. “I owe you an apology, Logan.”
He stopped in his tracks. “What? No!”
If anything, he did; he’d failed to protect her.
She turned towards him, her gaze clear, and he could only stare at her, uncomprehending.
She laid her hands on her stomach, like she used to do when she was pregnant. “Those who came to Jasmine Falls had to renounce their violent ways. This meant not to speak of one’s past, too.”
He remembered; a small little haven. One would confront one’s blood-stained hands with the help of others, during certain moments, but it was never the subject of casual conversation. Every ninja in the village kept their past close to their chest. Logan had been no exception to this rule. “I know. I’m sorry I never told you my sins, Itsu. I’m sorry I couldn’t protect you -”
She tilted her head. “I’m telling you that you weren’t alone in bearing a terrible weight.” She paused, and took a deep breath. “It came to my attention that you’ve always believed me a bystander, a spectator. A victim. A daughter, there only because of a reformed parent. Even though no one gave me away when we married. But I was like you, Logan. A murderer. I came to Jasmine Falls seeking redemption.”
He stood in front of her as she dropped this bomb on him. Itsu, a killer! He’d thought Kitsune a hateful persona that would hurt her, having been raised in a pacifist village… But instead, being Kitsune had hurt her because she’d already seen the worst. She’d already tried to fight the pull of violence. To retrieve her memories, and find herself drenched in blood after having renounced it… It must have chafed her greatly.
He made to catch her hands, but she held herself so tightly that he gave up. “I understand.”
God, he did.
“I worked for hire,” she recounted. “I’d left my family, years before. When I was young.” She hesitated. “Pheromone manipulation has been running down our bloodline for many generations. Obviously we didn’t call it that.” She shrugged.
He nodded. “I never noticed you had powers.” He couldn’t help the pang of hurt in his voice.
“Because I never used them in Jasmine Falls,” she said, softly. “I used to use them to hurt people, to kill more easily, so I vowed to renounce them as well.” She sighed. “I was a killer, Logan, just like you. And just like you, one day I realized I couldn’t go on. And I came to Jasmine Falls a supplicant, just like you.”
“I never even suspected.” He hung his head. He should have realized, maybe; but perhaps he hadn’t wanted to even consider such a thing. She’d been a miracle, a safe haven after the storm that had been his life, and he’d lost himself in her with abandon. He’d idealized her.
He loved a woman crystallized to perfection by death, but she was more than that.
“I know, and I am sorry for that.” She reached up and gently raised his chin. “As I’m sorry that you carried the weight of loss for decades; that you thought yourself incapable of protecting us.” She stroked her belly absent-mindedly. “The truth is that you and I were both remiss in that.”
His heart in his throat, Logan felt tears sting the corners of his eyes. “Itsu -”
“I, too, failed to protect our son,” she murmured. “I fought, lost myself, and lost. And he was taken from us, and hurt horribly. And you and I were hurt as well, torn apart and remade.”
Logan was crying freely now, remembering that terrible night, what it had led to. Finding her dead and going down a path of revenge, being taken and tortured so many times. Remembering it all, decades later, and raging against the void once again. Finding his son and struggling to make amends to someone that had been poisoned against him, that had been hurt so horribly; making mistake after mistake. And all the while, she was being used against her wishes… like Logan, like Akihiro.
She held his hands. “Someone wiser than me,” she said gently, “told me that there was nothing I could have done to stop what happened. That it wasn’t my fault. That one way or another, I would have been vanquished, and Akira taken from my belly.” Her fingers spasmed as he smelt her anguish, its sharp tang mingling with his own. “I am sure the same goes for you. If not then, some other moment. Eventually, they would have gotten what they wanted.”
Yeah. That was what Akihiro had told him too, exercising incredible restraint, when Logan had confessed that he was leaving the village that night. What Betsy told him, what his partners told him. And it was true. Logan knew it was true. And yet…
“She…” Logan shut his eyes at the memory. “She told me that they only knew about you because I found Jasmine Falls. He took our son, and she took you, because I led them to you -”
“And yet you came because you needed to heal,” she said, squeezing his hands. “And it gave us each other, and it gave us our son. And years later we’re here, and we can speak of it, and all’s well.” She smiled and it ached, to see her smile. “Let us forgive ourselves, and each other. Let us heal and focus on the good things that we had; on the good things we can still have.”
He could see that she was struggling too, lines of strong emotion marring her features. She was talking so wisely; and it was because, just as him, she was trying to internalize a new way of thought, to reclaim freedom.
He squeezed her hands. “Yes. I will try.” Seeing her so focused gave him strength.
“You’re an exceptional man, Logan,” she said, her voice carrying finality. “You’ll find your path. I’m sure of it.”
“And I’m sure you’ll find yours,” he returned, certain of it, but now he was on edge. She sounded like she was saying goodbye, tying up loose ends. He hesitated. “Where will your path lead?”
“I’m unsure.” She let go of him and resumed their walk; he joined her, respecting the distance she was putting between them. “I feel I should stay here, at least for a while. But I ache, Logan. I long for peace; for my home.”
“You want to return to Japan?” Yes; he could understand this too. He wondered how Akihiro would take it, though. Would it chafe him? Would he feel betrayed?
Just like that, Logan knew the answer to the question simmering inside him. He hadn’t even pondered going with her; he’d just worried how their son would react to such news.
Logan’s path didn’t follow Itsu. His home, his family, his friends were here. His partners were here, and he couldn’t renounce them.
He still loved Itsu, he always would; but the way one loves a memory.
She cocked her head, unaware of his epiphany. “I think I’d like it, yes. And I’d like to show Akira his roots one day. But his path is here.”
She said it with the firm certainty of a mother, their link revived after mere days. Logan was jealous, just a little, of how naturally mother and son had re-knit their relationship, of the apparent lack of struggle.
She sighed. “For him, I’ll stay until I can.”
She shouldn’t put herself on hold for anyone; but Logan knew that pang of guilt leading to many mistakes, that harrowing feeling of having failed their son.
“He wouldn’t want you to hinder your healing for his sake,” he tried. She had her own ideas about Akihiro, but Logan had known their son for longer than her. He could help her avoid making a colossal mistake. “In general, he doesn’t like decisions made on his behalf.”
“As he shouldn’t.” Her voice became steel, her fists closed tight. Logan had witnessed her angry a few times, but he recognized the signs. He wondered what exactly did she know about their son. More, perhaps, than Logan would ever know. After all, apparently she’d even witnessed their son’s confrontation with Romulus. Those that had been there – Kurt and ‘Ro, too – were hesitant to share.
And Logan was… finally, he was fine with that. Only his son ought to decide who to share his pain with. And when.
Itsu’s features softened. “I’ll discuss it with him, obviously. He’s a wonder, isn’t he?” Her tone shifted with pride, soft and yearning.
Logan nodded, a lump in his throat. “Yeah.” Akihiro had come so far, and Logan was proud of him.
“Finding him was a gift.” She stroked her belly, wistful. Logan wondered if she’d felt the same as him, seeing a son suddenly sprung on her after thinking him lost. At least she hadn’t seen the worst, all the pain and ache and the lashing out and the fights. At least she’d seen Akihiro at his best.
But she’d have probably loved him even then, just as Logan had, perhaps more steadfast than him. Perhaps she wouldn’t have lost hope like Logan, and would have kept trying to reach Akihiro until she succeeded.
But it wasn’t right to have such thoughts. Everything was fine now. They were all of them healing. And they were doing it together. That was all that mattered.
“I know,” he agreed. “I’m really glad you found each other, Itsu.”
She hummed, smiling a lovely, warm smile. Seeing it, remembering it from Jasmine Falls, Logan finally recognized the tilt of her lips as Akihiro’s own. Their son’s secret, happy, soft smile, that Logan had only ever witnessed so recently, was exactly like his momma’s.
It stopped Logan in his tracks and he stood, overwhelmed with a joy that made it difficult to breathe. She turned, alarmed, and she took his hand.
“What is it?”
“Nothing.” He took a breath and then another, centering himself. “He smiles like you.” His voice broke. “I never saw it.”
“Oh, Logan.” She cupped his jaw gently. “He loves you. I saw how he tortured himself when you were gone, how fiercely he looked for you. I know...” she hesitated, “I know he was made to hate you. There’s always that tinge of regret in his voice, when he talks about you. But he loves you, Logan.”
“I know.” It had taken them years and blood, it had taken betrayals and tears, but they’d finally overcome what Romulus had done to them. And Akihiro had overcome – or was in the process of overcoming – what Romulus had done to him.
And Logan knew – he was certain, standing with Itsu – that she’d overcome what Remus and Romulus had done to her. And Logan would, too. Because now none of them were alone anymore.
He looked at her and knew that everything truly was all right. That their family would rise.
Their family. Her palm was warm against his skin, her scent so strong, and he looked in her eyes and saw affection he couldn't mislead. He felt terrible for it, but he ought to lay the cards on the table. “Itsu, I -”
“I know.” She smiled sadly. Just a small whiff of regret in her scent. “I feel the same. You and I are past our time, Logan. We aren't who we once were.”
He nodded. “Yes. I… I love them, Itsu. Kurt and ‘Ro, they -”
“They balance you. They are both extraordinary.” She thumbed his jaw. “I’m glad you found someone.”
“I’m sorry.” He couldn’t help apologizing, even if they were on the same page.
“Don’t be.” She let her hand fall. “You aren’t who you once were, and I’m not either. You weren’t the first man I loved, nor the last. Even if I haven’t been myself since I last saw you.” She grimaced, but it was a bittersweet expression. “We live, we grow, we change.”
She bent down and kissed his cheek, soft and chaste. He accepted it for the goodbye it was, grateful. So glad that she was alive to discard him, to live, to choose her path.
She straightened up, her hands clasped in front of her. “I’d like to still be able to call you a friend.”
“I’d like that too.” He grinned.
She smiled, dimples forming on her cheeks. “Then we just have to make it official, don’t we?”
They returned to the mansion, to the lawn where his partners waited for him. He went to them, another weight lifted off him, another small piece of himself realigned. He sat with them and there was no need to say what had been said, because they saw it in how easily he slid between them, their fingers lacing. They belonged together.
He was picking up the pieces, and building himself up, little by little, day by day. With his partners’ help, his family’s, his friends’, he was bound to rise.
He and Itsu signed divorce papers shortly after their conversation. There was no official record of their union; even if they’d been able to track down Jasmine Falls again – now vanished, perhaps moved elsewhere, perhaps gone – the ceremony had no validity outside of the borders of the village. There was no proof they’d ever been married, but severing their link in a tangible way was a powerful symbol that they both needed.
Logan wasn’t the one to inform Akihiro, but when the moment came their son was there, standing in a corner, acting as witness for his mother; his eyes tracking the pen. Although Logan saw a tense longing in his gaze, it was quickly replaced by a supportive expression.
Logan had thought long and hard on who to ask on his end, and he eventually settled on Laura, knowing that she was the only one Akihiro could bear to witness this moment. And there was a sort of camaraderie between his daughter and Itsu, so it was all right.
They left the room in pairs, and Logan watched his ex-wife go, a sense of finality settling inside him. She was walking arm in arm with Akihiro, and their son kept glancing at her with unbridled joy.
It was a stunning view.
He caught Laura’s arm and they walked in the other direction, at first he thought aimlessly; then he realized that, while inquiring about his state and narrating Gabby’s latest exploits and how much Bellona was flourishing and how happy Jubilee made her, she was leading him outside and towards ‘Ro’s greenhouse.
There Kurt and ‘Ro waited, by a candle-lit table among the plants. Laura squeezed his arm and vanished, leaving them alone.
Logan approached the table, admiring his partners, a lump forming in his throat at how beautiful they were, how thoughtful, how magnificent, standing side by side with warm smiles and love in their eyes. He sat with them and they ate and they celebrated; not the divorce, but the loss of a part of him that had hurt him greatly ever since retrieving memories of it. Signing those papers, Logan was finally free of the guilt that had haunted him. So he embraced his partners and the love he bore them and that they felt for him; he embraced life.
The next day, Akihiro was gone.
Logan took a while to realize; in the afternoon, leaving Betsy’s office after a session, he saw on the premises some students that he knew should be in his son’s class. He was interrogating them before he knew what he was doing, before even contemplating there might be an innocent reason for it.
It was Bobby that took him off the kids’ backs, dispersing them before turning to address Logan. “Just what the heck are you doing?”
“They have class,” Logan managed to say, knowing how he sounded. “With Akihiro.”
Bobby crunched up his nose. “Okay. He asked for a day off. Or more, depending. He’ll let me know.”
“Let you know?”
“I’ve been handling the class schedule for months, Logan.”
“But why?” Logan felt himself spiraling. So soon after the divorce? Had he just up and left, upset? Was he even returning or would he just disappear?
“Dunno, Logan, it’s not like we’re pals -”
Akihiro would never leave without saying goodbye to his mother, to his sisters, to Johnny Storm, to his friends. Would he? But perhaps he had, and he’d said goodbye to everyone but Logan, and Logan was just left hanging -
Jesus, Logan ought to get a grip.
He thanked Bobby and returned to Betsy’s and they spent another hour reminding him that his son was an adult and able to make choices and Logan couldn’t expect to know his every move. It was hard because they were finally building a rapport and they were living in the same place, but Logan didn’t own the rights to his son’s decisions. And Logan knew that, but he still felt responsible, especially if Akihiro was fleeing because of what Logan had done -
“What you and Itsu did. It was a concerted decision,” Betsy reminded him. “You said he told you once that he didn’t want you to be ‘a self-sacrificing scapegoat’, correct?”
Logan nodded, remembering.
“You do no favors to either of you if you marinate in doubt like this. He’ll tell you if he’s upset. The rest is just mental gymnastics.” Her features softened. “I understand how hard it is. It’s a big step that you came to me instead of going through anyone who could know anything.”
Logan had, in fact, just barely kept himself from running to Laura, then Lorna, then Itsu, then even Jimmy (but not Johnny Storm, because he knew he was apparently off-limits, going through something, always looking so damn fragile when he came by, Akihiro always fretting around the man).
He stayed with Betsy and they worked some more; and then he went and saw Gabby and Bellona and Laura, and he managed not to ask anything, and then he was with Kurt and ‘Ro and the whole day passed without wallowing in worry.
The next day Akihiro had yet to come back and Logan spent the morning with Piotr and Remy, who had no classes to teach, and then went to Betsy’s, and by the afternoon he was calm enough to accept Laura’s invitation to her aunt’s. Laura likely knew what the hell was happening but Logan made it a point to avoid asking and enjoy the evening with the lively family, to enjoy how quickly Bellona was taking to her cousin and aunt.
By the time they returned to the school - ‘Ro was holding his hand, and Gabby was like a little monkey, excitedly chatting with Kurt, and Jubilee had her arm loosely wrapped around Laura’s waist and Bellona was talking quietly with Jimmy – they caught Akihiro in the main hall. He was nearing the stairs, holding a large wooden box and smelling as if he’d just come back from a long trip, and he stopped and carefully put the box down, waiting for their group to reach him.
Logan had been working on his worry, but he was still possessed by a trickle of relief.
When they caught up Akihiro exchanged a glance with Laura and nodded imperceptibly, and Laura smiled. He looked pensive; and strangest of all he was sporting a modern chonmage. Usually he kept his unshaved hair loose unless he was on a mission, when he pulled it up in a bun. Logan’s heart did a back-flip at the sight; his son would have worn the chonmage daily, if he’d grown up in Jasmine Falls.
“Aki!” Gabby jumped at him with no regard whatsoever for his obvious weariness. She pouted. “Where were you?”
It seemed that Logan hadn’t been the only one to wonder. Akihiro picked her up easily and she let him, even if she was ‘almost an adult and didn’t need that anymore’. She always acted a bit more childishly when her big brother was around.
He smiled down at her. “I’m sorry, sweetheart, I had things to do.” Then he looked up at Logan and there was no hostility in his eyes – Logan had still expected it, a bit, despite everything – but a sort of quiet resolution. “Logan. Do you have some time or you’re too tired to stand?”
‘Ro squeezed Logan’s hand, and Kurt reached them both and took the other, and Logan laughed, his heart light. “Are you calling me old?”
“Far be it from me.” Akihiro smirked, though there was still that strange expression in his eyes. “I still need to shower. How about you come to my room in twenty? I need to give you something.”
“Sure.”
Akihiro’s room? Logan had never been invited there. The place was a sort of sanctuary that Logan hadn't managed to see even the night of his return, despite it being just beside Laura’s.
Akihiro kissed Gabby’s brow and put her down and bid the rest of them goodbye and then, as carefully as he’d put the box down, he picked it up again and climbed the stairs. He was handling that box with a sort of reverence, and Logan’s interest was definitely piqued.
Twenty minutes later Logan was already outside his son’s room, still chatting with the girls after Logan’s partners and Jimmy had left, and Akihiro flung the door open with a sour expression, his hair a bit damp yet, a towel thrown around his shoulders. He stared at their group, and he looked kind of exasperated.
Logan hesitated. “You want me to come later?”
“No, no.” Akihiro showed him in. “I just wasn’t thinking about the fact that you were all together,” he muttered. “Maybe I should trade with someone else’s room.” Gabby protested loudly. “Then Bellona would take my place and be closer to you, sweetheart!” Akihiro amended, closing the door, looking a bit overwhelmed.
Logan could relate. Akihiro obviously loved to be surrounded by his family, but perhaps such a level of close proximity was beginning to take its toll, no amount of privacy allowed.
Outside, Laura was redirecting her sisters towards Bellona’s room, and Gabby was excitedly commenting that switching would be a great idea. Akihiro moved from the door and wordlessly disappeared into the ensuite, and Logan looked around, curious.
It was, obviously, a normal room, even small, with stacks of books piled on every available surface; a few photos were scattered here and there – with Laura and the girls, with Itsu, with Lorna, and a lot of photos with Johnny Storm. A queen-size bed occupied most of the space; and Johnny Storm’s scent permeated everything, even though the man had rarely been on the premises ever since leaving. The only thing seemingly out of place was the large box.
Now, in such an enclosed space, Logan knew that the wood’s scent reminded him distinctly of Japan. There was just a certain quality to it, that Logan could recognize with no other sense to rely on.
“You went ho-” Logan trailed off, but Akihiro knew what he was about to say.
“Home?” he said, coming out of the ensuite towel-less. He shrugged. “In a way. I… wanted you to have this.”
He crouched by the box, and opened it with slow and measured movements. Logan peered inside and almost did a double take. There were two urns and Logan approached, his breath stuck in his throat. He stared as Akihiro took out an urn and a framed photograph picturing Logan himself.
Logan stood, dumbfounded, touched beyond belief. Ages ago, when they were looking for Akihiro and Logan still couldn't believe that his son had already begun to change, Laura had told him about an auction crashed by his son, about a funeral that Akihiro had held for Logan using the things he’d recovered at the auction. “Is that -”
“Your remains.” Akihiro held the urn out – carefully, as if handling something fragile. But perhaps he feared that Logan himself would break at the sight. “I know that… that you know about this. It spares me an awkward explanation.” He paused, obviously feeling awkward all the same.
Logan took the urn from him. His son had chosen a flattering photo, that portrayed Logan as quietly dignified. It had been cropped from a group picture and enlarged. The urn should contain two of Logan’s claws, and a vial of blood that by now would be dried, but Logan didn’t lift the lid.
“The priest insisted to reverse the steps,” Akihiro murmured. Laura had said that Logan had been laid to rest by a certified priest; the man had done the twenty traditional steps of a Shinto funeral. “Do you have any idea of how long it took me to find someone trustworthy?” Akihiro pointed out as he went to his feet. “He was exasperated. I can’t ever go back to him if you die again.”
Logan huffed out a laugh, feeling so light. “Really?”
“Don’t die again,” Akihiro said simply, serious. “Not so soon, anyway.”
Logan hugged the urn to his chest, aching. It was a strange rapport that they were building, but he wouldn’t change it for the world. “I’ll try not to.” He hesitated. “Why now?”
He had an inkling, and it made his heart soar.
“I put you with mother,” Akihiro said, sure enough, his gaze caressing the urn still in the box. “Together again, in death. But then you both returned and now -” He trailed off, struggling for words. Now they were divorced. Akihiro took a breath. “Now you are on different paths. I guess it’s my way of saying I understand. To… symbolize that change. And you should have your own remains, anyway, after everything,” he added, looking thunderous. “You’re alive. I’ve been meaning to get them back to you but it never seemed the right moment...”
“Akira.” Logan interrupted the babble of words, grateful beyond anything he could possibly say. “Thank you.”
“Yeah.” Abruptly Akihiro dropped beside the box and closed it, not looking at Logan. The other urn should be Itsu’s, probably empty – Logan wondered, his heart aching, how had that funeral gone, without Itsu’s remains to do the steps – and there should also be a picture of her that Akihiro had drawn from Logan’s memory. Logan supposed that Akihiro would give them to Itsu.
How incredible that Logan had thought his son upset, and instead he was doing something so thoughtful, so supportive.
How incredible that they were all living, after everything they’d been through, and reunited, and healing, finding new ways to be together, to navigate the ties that bound them.
“Logan, I -” Akihiro trailed off, he that always had a way with words, and Logan waited patiently. His son was still crouched by the box, still resolutely looking away. Then he took a breath… deep, loud. “Father.” Another breath. “Otousan.”
Shock rippled through Logan, took the wind out of him, and he stood there staring down at his son, almost swaying.
Akihiro shifted and he rotated on spot and he was kneeling in front of Logan, still not looking at Logan, and he bowed. Logan made a choked sound and made to move, to stop him, but Akihiro was touching his forehead to the ground, he was… Shit, Christ Almighty, he was performing dogeza, and Logan could only stare and stare and stare.
“I’m sorry,” Akihiro said, in Japanese, using the most formal form of address possible, and Logan hastily set urn and photo on the desk and knelt in front of his son, a hand hovering by Akihiro’s shoulder.
“Akira, there’s no need -”
“I hurt you,” Akihiro said clearly, the sound only barely muffled by the fact that his mouth was close to the ground. Logan snapped his hand away, cradled it in his lap. Yeah. Yeah, Akihiro had undoubtedly hurt Logan, more than once. But now it was all over.
“I did, too,” he reminded his son, as if he needed to. “We hurt each other -”
“You apologized already.” Still highly formal. “More than once. I’m sorry, father. For everything I did to you.”
Akihiro didn’t stir. He clearly wouldn’t fucking move unless Logan acknowledged the apology, and Logan needed to see his son’s face and speak with him. The position reminded him – terribly, horribly – of that fake apology when Akihiro had pulled his stunt and bombed New York and blown himself to fucking pieces, that apology that Logan had always wondered if it was true after he found that Wolverine doll on his bed, that doll smelling of his son.
Logan took a breath. “I accept your apology.”
Akihiro stirred and straightened up and still, he wasn’t looking at Logan. His sclerae were reddened and Logan’s heart skipped a beat.
“Son…”
“There’s so much I did to you,” Akihiro said, with a strangled, nasal voice. “So much shit I put you through.”
“Yeah,” Logan said, acknowledging it. Acknowledging his own hurt, too. It was another thing they were doing with Betsy, acknowledging how much his conflict with his son had hurt him. “But he… he made you hate me,” he reminded Akihiro, gently. Not an excuse, but an explanation.
Akihiro shook his head. “Before, yes. But after that… When you explained, and the depth of Romulus’ lies was revealed to me. I still went after you. It was ingrained in me and I took a lot of time to fight it, to see you. It took you dying, dad!” he snarled.
There was a lump in Logan’s throat. “I know. Akira… Akihiro,” he amended, choosing the name his son has chosen for himself. “Look at me, please.”
Akihiro glanced at him, his jaw clenched. He smelt so fucking contrite that Logan was genuinely taken aback.
“I know,” Logan said. “I understand. I understand very well and you know I do. I know how it is to lose all sense of yourself, to lash out, to hurt people. You know I do. I understand.” Akihiro nodded stiffly, but Logan wasn’t sure he really understood. “Don’t fall into a spiral of self-hate,” he urged. He knew how steep it was, and he knew that Akihiro had just barely begun to climb out of it. He remembered, starkly, all of his son’s deaths, his suicidal deaths. All the work he knew that Akihiro was doing to himself. What was this, now? What had brought it on? Had it been the divorce, somehow? Logan fought a lump in his throat. “You have help, son.”
“I know.” Akihiro said it sharply, but also, in a way, somehow reassuringly, his features softened. “I’m not falling, I’m rising up. This isn’t an abyss of regrets, it’s making myself accountable. I’m healing and I’m making amends, father.”
Oh. Oh, that explained it. He wasn’t spiraling, falling a myriad steps behind in his path… he was moving on. Of course.
Betsy had told Logan not to jump to conclusions.
“I see,” Logan said, softly. “Thank you, son. I forgive you.”
“But you can’t,” Akihiro murmured, clenching his fists. “Not yet.”
Logan reached out and patted his son’s knee, as gingerly as Akihiro had touched Logan’s leg when he’d brought him the bag. “Too late.”
“I’m fucking this up.” Akihiro sighed, shifting, but without moving away. “I didn’t mean to do this now, just after giving you your remains. But you thanked me and I…” He hung his head. “I can’t let you go on without knowing how much I hurt our family.”
“The only ones who hurt our family are Remus and Romulus,” Logan choked out, tightening his fists. “It’s their faults only.”
“I killed your children,” Akihiro said, monotone, taking the wind out of Logan. “My siblings. Our siblings. Sons and daughters that you had over the years...”
Logan took his son’s hand, held it tight. “Don’t you mean that you made me kill them?”
Akihiro’s breath hitched and his head flung up, and he stared wide-eyed at Logan.
“You know?”
“That you worked with the Red Right Hand?” Logan squeezed his son’s hand, remembering his shock as he perused all the documents that the monsters had left him, his hands still tainted by the blood of his children. “That you gave them my children’s names, and they in turn put them on my path and I slaughtered them all?”
He’d known from that very moment, staring blankly at the screens, a last gift from the bastards. A last twist of the knife. Not only had he been made to kill his children, but it was his own son that had put them in front of him.
And this confession meant that Akihiro hadn’t known that his cooperation had been revealed. He’d thought that Logan didn’t know and he’d wanted to clear the air. And he felt real remorse; Logan smelled it, sensed it, saw it.
“Yes.” Akihiro’s lips barely moved. He stared, white-faced. He didn’t pull his hand away, leaving him open to any sort of attack, to Logan’s claws. “I did. I’m sorry, Logan.”
Not ‘father’. He didn’t dare calling Logan ‘father’, for this.
It had been a punishment, it was obvious. The timing fit. A lashing out, more vicious than before, justified by Logan’s crime. At the time, Akihiro believed that Logan had killed Romulus and taken the monster’s place as Akihiro’s master. He’d been grieving, fucking terrified. And he’d done a monstrous and horrifying thing to retaliate.
And that monstrous thing was in the past.
“You told me once that we could never make right what happened between us,” Logan said softly. “You were right. We can only accept it, and move forward.”
Akihiro’s features crumbled. “Logan -”
“Son.” Logan clasped Akihiro’s hand. “I know. I forgive you.”
Akihiro shook his head, tears threatening to spill from his eyes. “You can’t just -”
“I just did. I failed them too, you know.” God, good thing he’d been talking about them with Betsy too, or else he’d have imploded by now. “And you gave their names, but it was others who pointed me at them. And they were poisoned against me, just as you’d been.”
And Akihiro hadn’t done a fucking thing to them before that, when he could have just as easily killed them on his own when he found out about them. He’d obviously kept tabs on his siblings for years and hadn’t touched them at all, before deciding to use them in his twisted revenge. Perhaps he’d saved them for a rainy day, or perhaps he’d cared about them, in some way.
But even if he had, he’d still done that.
This wasn’t just about hurting Logan and making amends for it; he’d said it before, he was making himself accountable… and mourning, perhaps, his role in his siblings’ death. With their family stronger than before, it was bound to happen.
“It was my fault,” Akihiro snapped, tears streaming down his cheeks. “Leave me something I have no fucking excuse for, you can’t keep justifying every single thing I did -”
Without thinking Logan yanked him close and wrapped an arm around him. Akihiro snarled and pulled his hand away from Logan’s hold and then his face did something complicated and fell and he clung to Logan with a strained, pained wail, his fingers digging into Logan’s flesh, his face buried against Logan’s chest, his body wracked by sobs.
Logan held him fast and let him cry and he cried, too, mourning those they’d lost, those they’d hurt. Knowing they’d never forget them.
But they had to live.
Eventually Akihiro calmed down enough to extricate himself from Logan and stand up damn fast and retreat tactically into the ensuite. He didn’t even flick on the lights. Logan sat, listening to Akihiro restlessly moving around, to the splashes from the sink.
“Son?” he called out, when the water stopped running, when there was no movement, when Akihiro didn’t come back. “I love you.”
Akihiro cursed. He reappeared in the doorway, a towel in hand, his eyes dry but red and puffy. “You look like shit,” he weakly told Logan. “Do you want to wash your face?”
Well. Coming from Akihiro, it was practically a declaration of filial love. Small steps.
Logan nodded. Akihiro threw the towel over his shoulder and came over to help Logan up, his hand on Logan’s forearm, and he looked so young, so cautious.
Logan clasped his son’s arm. “It’s all right. I swear.”
Akihiro pulled Logan up. He inhaled long and hard, blinking fast. “Don’t forgive me yet.”
“All right.” Gingerly, Logan went to wash his face. The mirror above the sink showed him someone who was trying, hell, who would come out on top. The mirror showed him a fucking survivor.
He returned to the room, drying his palms on his pants. Akihiro scoffed and the towel was proffered at him.
“Don’t you dare ruining the urn.”
Logan studied his son as he dried his hands. Akihiro was leaning against the desk, still a bit pale, a bit on the defensive, his arms tightly crossed; his fingers faintly tracing the cherry blossoms painted on his skin.
“You been talking about this with Jeannie, son?” Logan said tentatively.
“Yes. Sort of.” Akihiro shifted. “I’ve been thinking about it ever since -” A slight hesitation. “Ever since Remus,” he said just as tentatively as Logan, eyeing him carefully.
Ah, of course. A bag full of vials, a child that had never existed. Logan’s fist tightened around the towel. “Understandable.”
It wasn’t something the two of them talked about, even if they were talking, even if Logan was working on it. Still too fresh.
Akihiro nodded. “I didn’t expect I’d react like this. My apologies.”
“You needed it, evidently.” Logan returned the towel to its place, stopping for a moment in the more shadowed room.
“Yes.” A sigh. Logan turned around and saw Akihiro pass a hand through his hair, restless, and then twist to fish an elastic band out of a small bowl behind him. His son began methodically gathering strands of hair to pull them in his usual bun, his eyes looking not away from Logan but somewhere beyond, recalling something. “Back home, I wasn’t just taking care of your urns,” he said distantly. “It brought things back.”
‘Back home’. Not ‘home’ like Logan had thought to mean it when he’d slipped up before. Not ‘home’ meaning his country, Japan.
‘Back home’.
Logan didn’t ask. “I see.”
Akihiro hummed. He finished tying up his hair and grabbed at the desk behind him, his gaze focused again. “I need to tell mother. And Laura, and Gabby… they deserve to know. It was their siblings too.”
“Your momma loves you,” Logan said. “Your sisters adore you. They’ll forgive you.”
Akihiro turned burning eyes on him. “Maybe I need something unforgivable, Logan. Something to remember and keep me in check.”
A direction to steer from.
“Yeah, son,” Logan said softly. “I understand.”
“You do, don’t you?” Akihiro stared at him, and looked away, and pushed himself off of the desk, the issue settled between them. He gestured at Logan’s urn. “Take good care of this, all right?”
“Of course.”
Logan tucked his photograph in his chest pocket and carefully embraced the urn, and Akihiro opened the door for him.
He stepped out and the door was softly shut behind him and he stood there for a moment, thinking about all the hell his family had lived through, all the hurt they’d inflicted each other. He thought about their red hands and all the pain and he knew, he decided, he felt that it was all behind them.
He heard his daughters, laughing in Bellona’s room, and knew it for a certainty. He heard his son, moving in the room behind him, and believed it with all his heart.
From now on, his family, himself, they would all move forward.
He started walking, headed to his room, to his partners that were waiting for him, and knew it would be all right.
All was well.
Notes:
Next: New beginnings.
.
[Just one chapter left ^-^ Let me know what you think!]
Chapter 62: New Beginnings.
Notes:
I made an edit on 09.27.2023: someone pointed out that Zachary is Filipino (thanks for telling me!). It's mentioned in a off-hand comment in Iceman (2017) #10. So I've rewritten a little bit of this chapter, to acknowledge that, but I also kept the backstory I had developed for his mom, which is referenced heavily in the sequel String of Fate. I've also edited chapters 3 and 14 of String of Fate. I apologise for the unfortunate mistake.
ORIGINAL NOTE: This chapter turned into a behemoth because conciseness doesn’t exist in my vocabulary and I’m a menace and I also might have sliiightly miscalculated when I was making the outline. But I didn’t chop it into two chapters because quite frankly you all have been waiting for two years and this was supposed to be the final chapter, so.
This is a very long epilogue with many scenes; it’s pretty packed with stuff. I hope no one’s too overwhelmed!Additional Warnings: mentions of parricide, hyper-sexuality, and rape; someone suggests a threesome in a forceful manner and is quickly shut down.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
62.
Akihiro son of Akihira had a spot in the family grave.
After taking care of his parents’ urns in Hokkaido, Akihiro had found himself boarding the first flight to Sendai, possessed by the need to finally visit what he’d spent decades avoiding.
He didn’t have the spirit to check all cemeteries in the city, but he remembered more or less where Akihira’s house had stood, and he made an educated guess, and the family grave was, indeed, in the closest cemetery.
And there, amongst ancestors whose name Akihiro vaguely remembered, near the spots where Akihira’s and Natsumi’s ashes rested, was a spot with Akihiro’s name.
Empty, obviously. After finding the corpses of Akihira and Natsumi, but not his, people must have thought that he was dead anyway. The claw marks on Natsumi’s chest had perhaps been taken as proof of the attack of some wild animal, an animal that had then eaten Akihiro and so driven Akihira to suicide. And it wasn’t that far off the mark, as explanations could go.
The spot with Akihiro’s name meant that someone had thought to include the bastard in the funeral rites. That some villager had decided that the abysmal way the little daken had been treated was to end with his death: that it had been decided that the half-breed deserved a spot with the people who had raised him.
Akihiro had stood in front of the empty space that bore his name - his name, he finally knew the two kanji that composed his name - stupefied by grief and yearning and acceptance. He’d fallen to his knees and he’d mourned his adoptive father and even, in a fit of something, not really knowing what he was doing, the adoptive mother he’d unwittingly driven mad with his pheromones, the adoptive mother he’d killed on accident.
Then he’d whipped his head around, looking from plaque to plaque, wildly searching, because there was another he should grieve, and if he held a spot despite vanishing without a trace, then his adoptive brother, the true heir, probably assumed to have vanished the same night, surely was there too.
And there he was: Akihide. His name was carved on a new, pristine plaque; the stone had been recently set in place. And the entire family grave was well cared for, not abandoned.
Akihiro had made a strangled sound, realizing what it meant. Remembering his little adoptive brother.
Akihide, his very existence threatening the fragile equilibrium of the household, Natsumi’s means to get rid of the boy with Western eyes that she couldn’t help being so wary around, so scared of. Akihiro’s little brother, just an infant with no faults of his own, plummeted to death from a bridge, thrown into a water tomb; and then, and then, impossibly, spat away by the river like the hero of a folk tale, returned to a deserted home, raised by… by someone, some kind soul, with the knowledge of who he was, perhaps identified by some mark, by the linens wrapped around his tiny, frail body.
Akihide had survived.
He’d lived his life... only to die before Akihiro’s return. He wasn’t so old that he’d have died of old age; he was ten years Akihiro’s junior. He must have been taken by some illness, or by an accident. And he had procreated, because the family grave was well-kept. He had carried the family line. Somewhere in the world, perhaps in this very city, there was someone with Akihira’s blood, with Natsumi’s.
Akihiro’s brother had children. Perhaps, even grandchildren. Maybe even his grandchildren had children -
And Akihiro could never know if he ever passed them in the streets. He could never know if he ever exchanged words with them or hurt them or interacted with them in any way. He’d never know if he’d ever met Akihide himself.
He’d backed away from the grave, refusing to look around any more, to find some other plaque, some other dead relative.
He’d never been religious; the funeral services for his parents had been an attempt at creating a cultural link, to respect what he’d thought his parents would have wanted. He’d never been religious, he’d led too harsh a life to believe in anything. The only thing he’d believed in, for a time, had been the dragon deity of agriculture that Akihira had worshipped, but that too had been taken from him by Romulus.
He’d never been religious, but this discovery had the taste of divine retribution. Kind enough to save an innocent, and to soothe Akihiro’s soul; cruel enough not to ever make their paths converge.
But it was just. It was as it should be.
Akihiro had sat in the Sendai airport, waiting for his flight to New York, in a kind of stupor. He hadn’t killed his brother; the words kept swirling in his head. He’d killed before, that bully, and he’d killed after, oh, he’d killed so much; and he’d dropped the little bundle into the river with the intent to kill, but he hadn’t killed his brother.
He’d never realized the weight of that sin on his shoulders until he saw that his attempt had failed.
‘Akihide survived,’ he’d texted Johnny, and Grey, and his mother, the only ones that so far knew about him.
He’d texted them, overwhelmed, and beneath the relief, beneath the strange wave of something rushing through his veins, beneath the contentedness at making peace with his adoptive parents, beneath the complex feelings that seeing he’d been remembered solicited in him, there was the knowledge that had been already nagging at him for weeks.
He hadn’t killed his brother, but he’d killed his siblings. Logan’s children.
He’d been reeling when he arrived back at the mansion, despite his mother’s soothing texts and Johnny’s loving phone call and Grey’s reassuring voice in his head. He’d been reeling, and it was no wonder that he’d rushed through his apology to Logan, that he’d reacted that way when Logan had said that he knew that Akihiro had handed the Mongrels to the Red Right Hand on a silver platter. He’d clung to Logan like a baby. He’d cried for them, for himself, for his family. Relief and guilt both surging in his veins. And the certainty, oh, the certainty that he would make amends.
He had many conversations in the following weeks, only cementing his will. He told his mother about the Mongrels and she cried with him and he could sense the grief in her, the understanding, the support. He told her that he didn’t want to be forgiven for their deaths, that it would be his compass, and she hugged him tight, so tight. They’d always been an afterthought, even when he was working with Grey, but now, God, now they were at the forefront of his mind.
He told Laura. He told her without Gabby or Bellona around, first, because it was too much to dump on a girl and on a traumatised young woman. He told her about Akihide; and he told her about their half-siblings, the family that she’d never be able to meet. He told her their names, he described his brief forays in their lives. In some twisted way, because he’d been twisted back then, he’d cared about them, enough to help when they were in trouble. Not enough to reveal himself as their brother, not enough not to think up so heinous a plan when the time came, not enough to avoid going through with it. But he’d felt something about them. He hadn’t known to call it care back then.
She listened, and then she sat, silent, for a long time, enough to make him fear her reaction. But then she held his hands.
She told him that they would be forever engraved in his mind and that it was the toll that anyone in their family had to pay for their wretched lives. She’d always fought against her horrifying training, she’d never been so cold and ruthless, but she too had weights to bear, bloody things that reminded her to stay on her path.
She told him that it was good that he remembered them.
“I’m sorry I took them from you,” he whispered. “From us.”
“I know, Akihiro.” She squeezed his hands, pale, but smiling sadly.
She asked him if he wanted to do something for them. He looked inside himself and found a knot, a knot of tight feelings just like the one that had unexpectedly melted when he visited Akihira’s family grave, and nodded with a lump in his throat. He felt so young. He felt so old.
Logan had buried them all, it turned out. He’d buried William, and Lucy, and Jack (God, Jack. Jack had been asexual, just like Akihiro, and just like him, he hadn’t known the words to define himself), and Jorge, and Mariann, each of them laid to rest beside their own mother.
The least Akihiro could do was to see them.
One day Akihiro went on a tour of his siblings’ graves, all across the country. His family was with him. Gabby and Bellona were quiet, Gabby wide-eyed, Bellona with a knowing gaze that shouldn’t be worn by someone so young. He swore to always protect them.
Logan stood outside of every one of the cemeteries; he’d already paid his respects and his penance. Laura stood with Akihiro, and his mother knelt beside him, sharing the weight.
His mother taught him prayers, simple prayers that for centuries had been handed down her family of shamans, prayers in ancient Japanese that were his privilege and burden to know. Good words, meant for comfort. She had a way of exuding pheromones as she spoke them, a way that had been finely attuned to this purpose, ceremonial, to heal and not to hurt. He gave himself to it, swaying in front of his siblings’ headstones, and wanted to learn it. To learn his heritage, the ways of her family. Of his ancestors. He wanted to go back to Sendai and perform her ritual.
On the way back he told Logan about Akihide. He’d told him about Akihira and Natsumi and that fateful, terrible night, he’d told him about his life before Romulus came, and he’d hinted at his crimes that had led to it; but he hadn’t told him about Akihide yet. He told Logan about his brother, a mere child; he told him about the bully he’d murdered, too. Logan shared his own tale of terrors, the tale of the night he drew claws for the first time.
They shared much, his father and he. And Laura, Laura who’d lost her mother just like them, whose claws had been forced out to take her life.
They shared much, but they were rising up.
Back at the mansion, Johnny was waiting for him. He was chatting away with Lorna and Grey, and his sight made Akihiro breathe, his chest ache with love. They were talking about something serious, Lorna was listening intently to Johnny, but they stopped when they caught sight of their ragtag group of mourners.
There was someone waiting for each one of them, partners and friends to soothe the grief and reassure that life went on. There was someone for his mother too: her fellow sisters-in-arms and Frost, who seemed to be turning from therapist into a sort of friend. Akihiro left his mother’s arm and joined those that were waiting for him.
Johnny looked better. Akihiro still didn’t know what had stricken him the day he left, but he was taking care of himself, and every time they saw each other he was less pale, less shaken.
He hugged Akihiro, tight and comforting, and Akihiro held him, breathing in his scent.
Lorna patted his arm, a sympathetic expression on her face. She’d taken his parricide in stride and had refused to renounce him, to some dismay on his part. She was fiercely loyal.
Grey had warned him to be careful not to use this to push people away, and he’d countered that he had no intention of doing so, but he’d still understand someone who cut ties over it. He was still able to appreciate that she was right and he had, in fact, dredged the sorry tale out of himself just when he was finally feeling better about himself and his past. She was making him see that he’d lashed out, that he’d been hurt, that he was different and healing now, that he wasn’t that twisted man anymore.
He knew. He still grieved, though.
Johnny let go of him just enough to tilt his head away, his eyes warm and kind. “You want to stay with your family or to get out of here?”
Akihiro looked around and saw his family well cared for. He looked around and his heart floated with contentedness, with relief.
“I want to stay with you,” he breathed.
He wanted to stay with Johnny. To be whisked away and take care of Johnny with the same tenderness and attentiveness he was being treated with. To be together, and live on.
“Well, behave, you two!” Lorna laughed, and Johnny beamed at her and led Akihiro away.
They left the park and walked the city hand in hand, and Akihiro looked at Johnny, drinking in his sight, his livelier lovely features.
Johnny caught his gaze. “You’re making me blush, Aki.”
“I love you,” Akihiro said, and it was good, it was so good to be able to say it. To look back at his past and see himself now, so different, so grown. He leant against Johnny and they walked, uncaring of where they were going. “How are you doing, dearest?”
“Better.” Johnny squeezed his hand and tilted his head to brush a kiss against Akihiro’s temple. He smelt serene. Still not enough to tell Akihiro, but enough to put Akihiro at ease. “How was it, love?”
People walked around them, getting on with their lives. Moving forward.
“Necessary,” Akihiro breathed, and recalled the headstones, his mother’s quiet prayers. “Hard.”
“I’m proud of you,” Johnny murmured.
They spent the night at the Baxter Building; reaching Johnny’s room was an adventure. There were boxes scattered on every floor, because just before Ben Grimm’s oncoming marriage the Fantastic Four were going to move into a smaller building.
The wedding date – and moving day – was getting close, and Akihiro had the feeling that at least part of Johnny’s turmoil had to do with it, even though he had a hard time imagining impossibly kind Alicia Masters, Johnny’s ex-wife and Ben’s bride-to-be, as the sort of woman to elicit Johnny’s sudden, traumatized response. People had hurt him and it had most certainly been a partner, or more than one, but it couldn't be her. When he’d speak about her or about Ben’s oncoming marriage, his lashes didn’t tremble; his breath didn’t hitch.
And yet his heartbeat stuttered in the same way it had on the day he returned to his family, so Akihiro was left wondering. But he respected Johnny’s silence, and waited.
That night they lay on Johnny’s bed, trading kisses and gentle caresses and talking quietly, until they fell asleep. Akihiro woke up before the dawn, their limbs entwined, and gazed upon Johnny’s soft features as he rested easily and he was glad that Johnny was getting better. He gazed upon Johnny’s lovely, beloved features and couldn't believe that they were here, after everything.
He lay there, just lovingly drinking in the sight, until Johnny shifted and blinked blearily in the morning light, his smile outshining the sun.
“You’re really making me blush,” Johnny pointed out, soft, lips stretched from ear to ear in a happy grin, his skin flushed.
“I was just thinking,” Akihiro said, lacing their fingers together, nuzzling Johnny’s chest.
Johnny hummed. “About?” His free hand cupped Akihiro’s head, lazily carting through his hair.
“How lucky I am.”
“You silly.” Johnny tilted Akihiro’s head up, his eyes shining, and placed a kiss between Akihiro’s eyes. “We’re lucky.”
Petals unfurled from Akihiro’s chest as if it was blooming season. “Yeah. We are.” He pushed himself up and kissed Johnny, his hair a curtain around them.
They stayed in bed a little while yet.
When they went all the way down to the kitchen to break their fast together before Akihiro left, Ben was there, washing what looked like the entire family’s dishes. He glanced at them from over his shoulder and muttered something that Akihiro ignored, engrossed in the luminous company.
Johnny pecked Akihiro’s nose and made him sit at the table and announced he’d cook breakfast.
“Oh boy.” Ben turned around with a considering gaze. “Ya two are all lovey-dovey.”
“Says the groom,” Johnny chirped, dancing around him to pick up utensils. His heartbeat stuttered.
“Guilty as charged.” Ben broke into a dopey grin, but his eyes were piercing as he considered his friend. He knew what ailed Johnny; that, at least, was a comfort.
His gaze jumped from Johnny to Akihiro and, after a silent staring match, he shifted his stance, standing straighter.
“So. Akihiro,” he said carefully. “Ya know my wedding policy.”
Johnny stopped what he was doing and he stood there, pan in hand, like a deer caught in headlights.
“No super-powered people save your family,” Akihiro summarized. Not to mention that there would always be a minuscule sliver of mistrust on Ben’s part, after what Akihiro had done years ago. It couldn't be helped. Akihiro held no illusions that he’d be invited to the wedding; he only regretted that Johnny obviously wanted him there.
“Yep. Yeah.” Ben scratched his head. “But ya’d have been Johnny’s plus-one, and yer important to him, so…” He sighed. “Would ya be interested in coming to my bachelor party?”
Johnny squeaked. “Ben! You big softie!” He launched himself at his friend, pan and all. It clanged against the man’s stony scales. They mock-fought, Ben playfully swatting Johnny away.
Akihiro stared. He knew all the terrible things he’d done to the Fantastic Family. Reed Richards had seen right through him when McCoy asked his help to cure Akihiro, and Sue Storm had warmed up to him pretty fast when he and Johnny had decided to give their relationship a try, but Ben Grimm had kept his silence throughout. And now he wanted Akihiro around, the night before such an important day?
“You want me to come to your bachelor party,” Akihiro choked out. “Me.”
Years ago, Akihiro would have been damn gleeful that he’d managed to successfully worm his way in. Now he just wanted to make sure that Ben remembered what he was dealing with.
The pair stopped their shenanigans. Johnny looked at him, big eyes quivering, and took half a step towards him. “Aki -”
“I’ve got it, matchstick.” Ben patted his arm and nodded sagely. “Don’t go having a breakdown on me, Akihiro. Yer, huh… yer not so bad after all. And ya make Johnny happy. And that’s a damn miracle.” He cleared his throat. “Of course I want ya there.”
Akihiro was finding it very difficult to breathe. “And your hero pals won’t have a thing to say.”
He’d obviously been working together with many of them, during the search for Logan, but this would be a different environment. Relaxed. Would they regard him as a snake in their midst?
“Last I heard,” Ben huffed, “it was my bachelor party. And I don’t know, ya’ve been doing pretty heroic stuff yerself lately, punk.”
Ben Grimm still had this annoying habit of calling Akihiro punk. The annoyance eased the weight in his chest, the sudden feeling of inadequacy. Akihiro looked away, blinking fast. “Punk? Respect your elders.”
“Right, yer positively ancient.” Ben exaggeratedly waggled his eyebrows. “So what do ya say, old man? Ya think ya can keep up?”
“Just stop with the damn nicknames,” Akihiro scoffed. His gaze turned to Johnny, like a sunflower, and Johnny was looking at him with such hope, such love shining from his eyes. He wanted Akihiro there.
And how could Akihiro deny him something that would make him so obviously happy?
“Benjamin Grimm, I think you’ve got it backwards,” Akihiro said in a conspiratorial tone, leaning his elbows on the table. He rested his chin on his hands, and met Ben’s gaze in challenge. “It’s not a party unless I show up.”
And Ben let out a full-belly laugh, and Johnny beamed, and Akihiro loved that sight. He loved Johnny so much; he wanted to make him happy.
Happy and whole.
Back at the mansion he tracked down his mother. She and her friends were meditating in Braddock’s yoga classroom, and he hovered in the doorway, thinking to find her again later. But she cracked one eye open and smiled softly at him and he decided to join them on the floor. Bellona was there too; she joined the ‘she-warriors’ sometimes.
His mother was taking good care of the trio, helping them deal with the brainwashing and, in turn, helping herself.
When the meditation session ended, Akihiro and his mother were left alone in the room. She looked relaxed, at peace. Akihiro shifted from the lotus position to his knees. “Okaasan.”
She tilted her head. “Yes, my Akira.”
“Teach me,” he blurted out in Japanese, surprising himself with the force of his feeling. “Teach me the ways of your family… of our family.” She looked at him, unblinking like the sensei he was asking her to be. “Our prayers and our customs. Like the ones you taught me for my siblings.”
She held her silence, for a moment, and rearranged herself to mirror his position. “Why do you want to learn?”
“To… to mend.” The answer came to his tongue as it came to his brain. “To help. To heal.”
“Heal yourself?” she questioned, her fingers fanned on her thighs. Her gaze, unwavering. “Or others?”
“It helped me, yesterday,” he confessed, thinking out loud, showing her his reasoning as it unfurled. “I cannot deny it. It was comforting. But no, it’s not for me. I… I want to comfort. To be able to share someone else’s pain. To make it bearable. I don’t… I have no intention of becoming a shaman,” he hurried to say, because he couldn't see himself in those shoes. “I can’t… I can’t carry the family line that way. But I think I’m meant to know. Because I hurt so many people, and if I can have a way to pay it back, I want to know it.”
He knew how to use his pheromones to comfort and quiet down, but her usage was something else. Sharper, more attuned to do no harm at all. And it was the whole mindset behind it, really, the whole code of conduct that his ancestors had built around a power that could so easily be used to hurt. He could benefit from it. He could make good with it.
Not with Johnny, even though his face came to mind, his struggle still there. Never Johnny; he’d never use his pherokinesis on Johnny. But the mindset could still give Akihiro something to work by, and…
No, it wasn’t about Johnny at all. It was about himself. About how he was seeking a way.
“Akihiro,” she said, the first time she used that name ever since she came back. He sat up straighter, gazing at her and seeing so much pride in her eyes, it took the wind out of him. “Of course I’ll teach you. It’s your birthright.”
“Thank you.” He bowed. “Thank you, mother.”
“It will be an honor.” She came over and sat beside him, and she caught his hand. “I need to tell you something, though.”
He stiffened, a bit, searching her face for any sign of turmoil. But she was still serene. “Yes?”
“I won’t stay here for long. I’m going away soon,” she murmured. “I’ve thought hard about this, my son. I need to find my way back home.”
“Of course you do.” He squeezed her hands. He’d always thought she should; he was surprised that she’d stayed for so long. “I’ll… I’ll take what you can give. In the time you can spare.”
There was a lump in his throat.
“I’ll go in the summer. It’s not too far away, but not too close either.”
She eyed him carefully and he tried with all his might not to show dismay. A few months. They had a few months. It was enough; and he could still visit her, and she could visit here. It wasn’t a goodbye.
“I hesitate to ask…” she trailed off. “Your path is here, I know. But would you like to come with me, my son?”
He sat still, electrified. “With you?”
“Not forever,” she reassured him. “I’d never ask that. Your life is here. But I think it could do you good. Just for a few weeks, perhaps? I hope to show you where I grew up. I’d like you to meet… to meet whoever’s left,” she ended with a whisper.
She was just as scared as him, heading into the unknown, looking for a home she wasn’t even sure still existed. Not to mention that, due to Remus’ tampering, she still looked to be in her thirties. His heart ached with tenderness and he held her hands. And yet, there was still something he had to do first.
“Mother, I’d like nothing more.” He hesitated. “But I… need to talk about it with Johnny.”
She cocked her head. “Of course. He needs you,” she said softly, ever so perceptive. “Speak with your man, my Akihiro,” she said, finally adjusting to his name, the name he’d chosen, and he squeezed her hands, overwhelmed. “We have time.”
Johnny was supportive.
“It’s not like you’re going right now,” he reminded Akihiro, holding his hand. “And we have our phones, and we’ll be just a teleporter away.”
“Are you sure you don’t mind?” Akihiro inquired, gazing into his eyes. He hoped that by the moment the time came, Johnny was better, better equipped, hale. At the same time, he ached to go.
“Yeah, love. I’ll be fine.” Johnny learned closer and pressed their foreheads together. “Just… You’ll be there for the wedding, right?”
“I think we’ll wait for the end of term, so yes.” Akihiro brushed a kiss against the angle of Johnny’s mouth. That seemed to be his mother’s intention, perhaps so he wouldn’t leave his class hanging, and he had to admit that he didn’t fancy leaving his semi-competent kids in the hands of some half-assed teacher. He didn’t want to have to pick up from someone else’s slack come September. “Just what are you planning to do, announce me officially to everyone you know?”
Johnny blushed violently and Akihiro’s heart skipped a beat. He’d been half-joking.
“Of course,” Johnny smiled. “We’re partners, aren't we?”
They were. God, they were.
So his training started. His mother was a kind, attentive teacher, and she welcomed the opportunity to share her knowledge, to pass down what she’d escaped her home to avoid. She’d feared the cage then, but now she wanted nothing more than to reconnect to her past. To help him out.
She would have never suggested it on her own; of that he was sure. She would have never offered until he asked, even if she’d clearly wanted to. She’d given him space and time to realize what he wanted.
It wasn’t a formal training; she’d lived it and breathed it during her formative years and it wasn’t something to be taught, only to be experienced. And sometimes she chased snippets of knowledge, forgotten things, and it hurt her greatly. But she made do with what she remembered, and he flourished.
“It’s fascinating,” he told Grey one day, having his mother’s permission to discuss the secretive customs with his therapist. Grey had recently decreased their meetings to once a week, on the claim that he was doing far better. “It’s highly built on defense, not offense. The level of control it allows to achieve! I’ve never felt my power more responsive. It’s a mending experience, not a traumatic one.” Her expression turned pensive and he leaned against the back of the sofa. “Thinking about Romulus’ training, Grey?”
“That, too.” She looked out of the window. “I was… also thinking that your mother’s knowledge would have greatly helped a student we had once. She had pherokinesis and she was very troubled. I apologize.” She sighed. “I should be focusing on you.”
“But I’m doing so much better,” he reminded her. He shifted, easily reading regret and grief in her voice. “She died?”
“While I was dead, apparently.” Grey returned her gaze to him. “She was murdered. We lost many to the Purifiers that year.” Ah. She was talking about the vicious attacks perpetrated when Laura was a student. “When I think about everything that our people have suffered, about all the people we couldn’t protect, all the people we couldn't help -”
“I’m sorry. Maybe I’ll be able to help the next pheromone user that comes this way.”
She nodded, and then deftly returned them to the matter at hand. But as he was leaving her office he lingered, and he searched for words.
“Grey… You have helped me. Greatly.” He hesitated. “Thank you, Jean.”
She gave him a brilliant, warm smile. “Thank you, Akihiro. Sometimes it’s all too easy to forget one’s good actions and only remember the failures.”
He hummed and made to leave, but she was still looking at him with a pensive gaze, something on her mind. He waited.
“You know who else is going to Japan?” she said then, carefully.
“Who?” He leaned against the doorjamb.
“Zach,” she threw his way, still very carefully. He breathed evenly. “James… Zach’s therapist… He managed to make Zach reconnect with his mother,” she said slowly. “You know, there's always been a disconnect for him. He was very close to the Filipino community where he lived, his father's community, but when his father died, his mother cut all ties, while also never sharing with Zach her own heritage." Yes, Akihiro had known that. "Now they managed to work through things, find some solace. And she, in turn, was spurred by their reunion to reach out to her siblings. They all decided to try and mend things. So Zach and his mother are going to visit her family in Japan.” She paused. “The family suffered a loss recently. She had declined to go home for the funeral. I think she and Zach will visit the family tomb too.”
“I see.” He did. He didn’t ask what loss it was, didn’t ask what city they’d be staying in. It wasn’t important. “And I guess this is your roundabout way of telling me I should see him before he goes.”
She nodded, her gaze sharp. “I think it’s time, yes. I think you can handle it.”
He sighed. “Set up a meeting, Jean. I’ll be there.”
He and Zach met in Summers’ office, which his therapist would use when he saw Zach on the premises. The man obviously stayed in the room, together with Jean, but the two therapists kept behind the desk. Akihiro sat on a chair.
Zach flung himself on an armchair with boyish bravado, looking better than he did when he sprung on Akihiro the day of the handout; he looked sane and safe and whole. It was a sight that made Akihiro’s chest clench with relief and gratitude.
“Fucking finally,” Zach said cheerfully.
“Zach,” quietly chided his therapist. Zach made a quick two-finger salute in his direction.
“So,” he told Akihiro, looking straight into his eyes. “You kidnapped me.”
Akihiro studied his features, focusing only on the boy’s emotions. He was sure and unwavering, no sign of doubt or inner turmoil. He knew and understood what Akihiro had done.
“Yes,” Akihiro murmured.
“That was a fucking shitty and fucked up thing to do,” Zach said clearly. “I can say that, I’m talking about my feelings,” he threw his therapist’s way. When the man didn’t protest, Zach crossed his arms. “You kind of already apologized, because you knew already that it was fucked up and I was fuck-deep into denial-land, but if you want to have at it again...” He waved a hand.
“I’m sorry I hurt you, Zach,” Akihiro said simply. “I’m sorry I used you.”
“Yeah.” Zach straightened up. “You just went and said: ‘That kid! I can use that kid to escape this shitty situation I’m in.’” He huffed a strand of hair away from his eyes. “Like, that shit was fucking nasty but you didn’t have to kidnap me.”
“You’re right, I didn’t.”
“You could have asked for help,” Zach pointed out, relentless. “Expect you couldn’t have, because you were fucking possessed. Right?”
Akihiro started. “I still had some willpower, Zach. I could have asked for help. I found you because I was stalking the school, because I was trying to find a way to ask for the X-Men’s help.”
“Okay,” Zach said firmly. “That’s the only thing I want to hear apologies for. You were in a fucking mess and you made a mistake. Anything that came after that, it was on that shit. In fact, you protected me from that shit. Right?”
Akihiro hesitated. Zach was obviously right, but Akihiro hadn’t wanted to make excuses. Even if he knew that it had indeed been the Seed, and that it hadn’t been his fault, and that he’d fought the Seed and done everything he could to protect Zach from it, his plan for today had been to only acknowledge the harm he’d done to Zach. Zach deserved nothing less.
“You kinda can’t lie about it,” Zach reminded him with a smug grin. “You know I felt everything that was happening.”
Zach was growing to be a very stubborn young man.
And if that was the direction he and his therapist wanted to take… Akihiro would respect that.
“You’re right. I apologize for kidnapping you, Zach.” Akihiro caught a whiff of satisfaction from both Jean and the man, James. “But allow me to say that I’m sorry, too, for the harm that came to you after that. There’s nothing I can do to change what happened.” He took a breath. “I can’t offer reparations. I can only say that I won’t ever do something like that again. But if there’s anything I can do for you, Zach, name it and I will do it.”
There was a sniffle. Zach rubbed at his eyes. “Shit,” he muttered, “I wasn’t gonna cry -”
“It’s okay to cry, Zach,” his therapist said.
“Yeah. Huh-uh.” Zach dried his eyes with the back of his hand and set a furiously intense gaze on Akihiro. “Help me with my Japanese,” he said firmly, and his therapist didn’t react in any way, so they’d talked about it. Jean didn’t seem surprised either. “I can understand it, but I can’t speak it for shit and I...” Zach shrugged.
And he was going to meet his relatives soon.
“I’ll ask one of my students to tutor you,” Akihiro said firmly. Zach’s mother should have taught her son, regardless of her feelings towards her family. The rift had probably been caused by her choosing an American husband, but still. “She can be your conversation partner. She’ll have you talking perfectly in no time.”
Noriko Ashida was rebellious enough that she would be a good match for Zach.
Nicely done, Jean said in his mind.
Zach looked both resigned and happy. “Okay,” he muttered. “But look, once I’m cleared for your class -”
“I’ll gladly welcome you, Zach.”
The boy smiled, and Akihiro felt lighter. He couldn't make what had happened right, but he would pay his debt. He’d pay it until Zach was all right.
Ben was to tie the knot on the first week of June and, since he was Jewish, in the middle of the week. The bachelor party, in an unsurprising show of poor planning, was to be the night before.
That Wedsneday, during the review lesson that Akihiro had managed to move to the morning, his phone wouldn’t stop buzzing. Eventually he set someone to read something aloud and he checked his notifications.
He found a string of frantic texts from Johnny. Richards, Ben’s best man, had decided to escape his duties and had passed Johnny the hot potato of organizing the party. At least it should mean that the Fantastic Family thought Johnny could handle the pressure.
Judging from the texts, Johnny didn’t quite agree.
Akihiro released the children, notified Drake, and left the mansion to join Johnny downtown. As he neared the address Johnny had given him he sniffed, cursed, and quickened his pace.
Johnny was already inside the establishment and talking to a woman, discussing details for the colorful American tradition of having girls jump out of a cake. Akihiro slid silently to Johnny’s side and caught his hand. “I’m here, dearest.”
“Love!” Johnny beamed, smelling relieved. “Thank you for coming! What do you think?” He gestured at the few women around them, who’d lost the smug expression of the cat getting the canary and were staring at Akihiro.
“I think,” Akihiro said, smiling genially at the leader, ready to pump out calming pheromones, “that Ben would prefer something less explosive. No offense, madame.”
“None taken,” she drawled, daggers in her eyes, staying put.
Akihiro led Johnny away. Johnny, sensing something was amiss, followed.
“What was wrong with them?” he frowned as they reached the sidewalk. “They seemed legit.”
“I’m sure they were.” Akihiro squeezed Johnny’s hand as he quickly put distance between them and the place. Johnny still had a habit of being so trusting, and Akihiro’s chest clenched. “That establishment is a front for the Serpent Society. They probably planned to attack while you were all distracted.”
“Oh my god,” Johnny groaned, wide-eyed. “I didn’t recognize them without their costumes! Shit.” His face fell, his heartbeat a mess. “I’m an idiot.”
“No you aren’t,” Akihiro said forcefully. Oh, he was going to have words with Richards. “This was dumped on you at the last second.”
“Exactly!” Johnny angrily rubbed at his face. “On such a short notice, how the hell can I put anything together?”
“I’m sure you know trustworthy people all around the city,” Akihiro said. “Find someplace for heroes only. I’ll handle the… cake surprise.”
“Really?” Johnny’s heartbeat was calming down. “Shit, I love you,” he grinned, there on the sidewalk, radiant like the sun. It took the wind out of Akihiro.
“The feeling is absolutely mutual.” He pecked Johnny’s nose. “Go, I’ve got it handled.”
Akihiro hired a group of performers whose establishment he knew from years before and paid them handsomely for their discretion.
He gave Johnny their number to settle the time and place and, after making sure that Johnny was handling the rest better, he went back to the X-mansion, changed quickly, and headed for the Fantastic Four’s new home to tear Richards a new one while Johnny was still out organizing a bus.
“You made a whole speech to me once,” he said calmly, leaning against the door of Richards’ laboratory while the man worked on something that sure as hell didn’t need to be done right then, “about family. Was it all talk?”
The man scoffed. “I’m making the wedding present.”
“Call McCoy, call Forge, call all your scientist pals who aren’t going to be at the party. Ask for help, Richards,” Akihiro snarled.
Richards stood very straight-backed outside the house when the bus arrived and the guests started assembling. He was the picture of the perfect best man.
He better be.
He, Ben and Johnny were going left and right, greeting heroes, and Akihiro was left standing side by side with Johnny’s non-powered friend Wyatt Wingfoot, who kept eyeing him as they exchanged amenities.
“If you’re going to give me the shovel talk, hurry it -” Akihiro trailed off and snapped his head in the direction of a spike of discomfort in Johnny’s scent.
Women were gathering in front of the house for the bachelorette party, and Johnny was giving a wide berth to a small group comprising Medusa. Akihiro recalled Johnny fleeing upstairs when the Inhumans came to the school. The fact she’d handed Remus off wasn’t going to save her if she was one of those who had hurt Johnny.
“If you keep making those eyes, no one will believe you’re reformed,” Wingfoot pointed out, following Akihiro’s gaze, his scent shifting to something approaching approval. “I don’t think Johnny would like it if you attacked a guest.”
No, he wouldn’t. Akihiro breathed, centering himself.
“He’s got it,” Wingfott murmured. Akihiro looked at him. The man, being Johnny’s friend, obviously knew.
“I know. But I don’t know what’s wrong,” he confessed. “I’m waiting for him to tell me -”
“He will,” Wingfoot said with a reassuring, almost soft voice. Then he shoved his hands in his pockets and cleared his throat. “So, the shovel talk. Ben talked me out of it. He says you’re all right.”
“Did he.” Akihiro returned his attention to Johnny, making sure he was calming down. His sister had reached him and they were talking quietly. “So you’ll hold off?”
“Oh, I’ll absolutely kick your ass if you hurt Johnny,” the man deadpanned, and Akihiro appreciated both the sentiment and the gall. “But something tells me you’d cut your arms off before doing that.”
“I heal.” Relief flooded Akihiro’s veins as Johnny grinned at his sister and resumed his tour. Sue Storm began gathering the assembled women further down the street. “Wrong analogy.”
Wingfoot just hummed.
Soon everyone began boarding the bus – to everyone’s shock, a sort of Amazon ditched the women to join the men’s party - and Johnny reached the two of them.
“There you are!” He laughed, wild and carefree, throwing an arm around his friend’s shoulder and clasping Akihiro’s hand. “It’s going to be epic! I’ve got an itinerary planned!”
‘Epic’ was a word for it. At their first stop, Ben pulled his groin because he thought that watching a wrestling show meant joining the professionals on the ring.
After the Sorcerer Supreme healed him up, they headed for dinner in a spacious hall in a building geared to the particularities of super-powered people. Akihiro found himself just a table away from King T’Challa and felt compelled to address the fact that the man had given the X-Men the means to infiltrate Remus’ hideout and finally save Logan. The King graciously dipped his head when Akihiro thanked him, all the while ignoring Clint Barton’s slightly hostile staring. Akihiro couldn’t do the same, though, and he returned to Johnny’s side a bit light-headed, with the intention of addressing Barton’s torture at a later date. Now surely wasn’t the time.
Even after living with the X-Men for a while, it was jarring to be around so many relaxed heroes; he kept hyper-aware for most of the dinner, distinctly surprised at the low number of people watching his every move, and eventually focused only on Johnny’s beautiful, smiling face.
He should have kept his guard up. He sensed Spider-Man only when the man was almost on him and didn’t manage to side-step an enthusiastic hug. “Hello!” Spider-Man exclaimed. “Remember that time when we beat the absolute shit out of each other? That was an epic fight!”
Akihiro couldn’t see his face - he was wearing a costume, although not the one he was using as Johnny’s replacement - but he smelled jovial enough.
“You’re… welcome?” Akihiro offered, exchanging a glance with Johnny, because what exactly was he supposed to say to that?
If he had to apologize to every hero he’d wronged in this room, it would take all night -
Was he really contemplating doing that?
“Exactly!” Spider-Man rocked him back and forth. He didn’t seem inebriated. “Let bygones be bygones! This day’s for new beginnings!” He jumped on the table in a show of acrobatics, landing between plates and cutlery. He produced a glass and held it high. “To Ben and Alicia! Family, friends and fellow heroes -”
“I said no wedding speeches!” Ben yelled.
Then the cake showed up, so everybody’s attention was held for a while. Akihiro stood to the side, recuperating from the onslaught. The last time he’d been in such a crowded place was ages ago and all his senses were a-wire.
Johnny joined him by the wall, ignoring the show, and held his hand.
“That was tastefully done!” Thor’s voice boomed with approval when the performers retreated, and Johnny squeezed Akihiro’s hand, shining with gratitude and love.
They kissed. In the background, Thor was declaiming an alliterative poem about the beauties of Vanaheim, seemingly making up the verses on the spot like a skald. It was quite impressive. Had the circumstances been different, Akihiro would have paid closer attention. But he was laser-focused on the man in his arms.
Afterwards they relocated to a poker room in a seedy place that Logan would have liked. Akihiro contemplated inviting his father there sometime, but Logan probably already knew the place.
In May, Logan had told Akihiro that he had an adoptive daughter in Japan and Akihiro could visit her while he was there, if he wanted. Akihiro had cocked an eyebrow at him.
“Amiko Kobayashi? Visit her yourself, dad,” he’d said, certain that Logan had been neglecting her for years even before his death. “I’m sure she’ll love it.”
Logan had disappeared for a few days after that, and returned with the young woman in tow. She visited for a few weeks, attempted bonding with every member of the family, and returned home as suddenly as she’d come. Gabby missed her already and she was trying to convince Laura to return the visit. She said that she’d seen too little of Japan when they were looking for Muramasa and that she wanted to show Bellona the sights, but it was obviously a ploy to travel with Akihiro and his mother.
Laura had reassured him that in any eventuality they’d stay out of the way, but making a trip with his sisters at a later date wasn’t actually a bad idea.
In the poker room, the assembled heroes began grouping up and lazily chatting, beer in hand. Johnny slid on a seat at the poker table, so Akihiro joined him.
To the Amazon’s insistence, they played strip poker and proceeded to be utterly annihilated by her. Richards, securely sat away at the counter, raised his head from a tablet from time to time, and constantly widened his eyes at their various state of disarray.
Akihiro didn’t mind, he was comfortable with the semi-nudity, but Johnny was beginning to seem uneasy, his heartbeat stuttering as they all kept losing pieces of clothing. The spectators were all focused on a player or the other, including Johnny and him. There was no shortage of attractive people at the table, and many gazes were wandering in many places. Most of the attention was on the still fully-clothed Amazon, who reveled in it, but Akihiro supposed that Johnny was suffering especially from the attention of Tony Stark and Thor, who were playing at the table; the both of them were looking directly at Johnny and Akihiro, and not just to divine any bluff.
Akihiro pointedly wrapped an arm around Johnny’s waist and Johnny snuggled up against him with a sigh. The attention of the spectators shifted. Thor shrugged and turned his wistful expression elsewhere. Stark resumed making eyes at the Sorcerer Supreme. Johnny relaxed in Akihiro’s hold.
It seemed to be the end of it, but as the evening came to a close and the Amazon gathered her winnings, she stopped to contemplatively eye the men around the table.
“You’re consorts?” she asked Johnny and Akihiro, and Johnny’s enthusiastic ‘Yes!’ almost short-circuited Akihiro’s brain. But then the woman nodded to herself and spoke with the self-assuredness of a queen. “I’ll grace your bed tonight.”
Akihiro’s blood ran cold.
“Huh? Oh! What? No!” Johnny laughed nervously, his heartbeat skyrocketing, his scent a mess of panic and utter refusal; many men smelt distinctly envious or incredulous. Her eyes became slits.
Akihiro sensed the storm coming.
“Thank you,” he said evenly. “We’ll have to decline.”
Ben seemed alarmed and Richards had diverted his attention from the tablet and Wingfoot was half-rising from his seat and Spider-Man was very still and Johnny’s voice was shrill as he kept nervously laughing and shaking his head. “Huh, um, no! No, absolutely not, thank you!”
A shadow passed over her face. “You laugh? You’d renounce such an honor?” Her voice rose. “You’d deny a Femizon warrior?”
Ben held up his hands in an appeasing manner. “Okay, Thundra, there’s no need -”
“Such disrespect!” She jumped to her feet, fists held tight. She was obviously used to getting what she wanted. She wasn’t going to force anything, she was just offended and gunning for a fight, but she was upsetting Johnny.
The first instinct was to unsheathe his claws. Next he pondered exuding such a high concentration of pheromones that she’d stay out cold for weeks.
But he wasn’t going to ruin the party that Johnny had worked so hard on, and he wasn’t going to throw to the wind all the work he’d done to himself, and he wasn’t going to let Ben ruin the party, the man already readying himself to fight.
Akihiro knew her brand of narcissism.
“It would indeed be a high honor,” he said smoothly before the situation worsened. Ben startled, his fists falling to his sides. “To lay with a goddess such as yourself. Your beauty’s unparalleled and your prowess is unrivaled, it’s clear to anyone blessed enough to lay eyes on you. Legions would weep just to be allowed to prop up your feet.”
It had been a while since he used honeyed words, but it wasn’t too bad.
One could have heard a pin drop. They were all staring at him. Thor looked on appreciatively. The raccoon barked out a ‘Nice!’ Someone whistled.
Akihiro was indeed laying it on pretty thick. She preened, relishing the compliments. “I sense a ‘but’, little poet.”
He held on to Johnny, who faintly trembled against his side. “But my heart belongs to Johnny only.”
“And mine to him,” Johnny piped up.
“Oh!” She laughed, high and clear, but not in mockery. “You’re bound to each other! I can respect that, fox warrior.” Akihiro frowned at the moniker, but she was already addressing Johnny. “You should have just said so, Jonathan!”
Johnny stared up at her, pale.
Ben spoke up. “So it’s all right, Thundra?”
“No matter! No matter at all. I apologize.” She waved a hand dismissively. Ben mouthed ‘apologize?’ with an astonished expression. She slammed her palms on the table. “Man of Iron! Will you warm my bed, or do you have someone you’re beholden to?”
“I’m free,” Stark drawled, and so the matter was settled. Johnny exhaled a shuddering breath and Akihiro held him tight, wondering what the hell was happening, seeing red.
Johnny smelt angry and sad and so horribly, horribly upset. His tense uneasiness was completely at odds with the cocky behavior that he’d always exhibited, never one to shy away from extreme flirting. Akihiro had never noticed this change because, over the course of their relationship, not even once had they been put so on the spot with sexually charged situations; so he couldn’t know if the change pre-dated the day Johnny left. But if it didn’t, if it was connected to what he was struggling with, if all of this had been brought about by Akihiro’s confrontation with Romulus, then that meant that Akihiro had someone to murder. Not the bride-to-be, certainly, or Ben would have renounced her. Medusa, maybe?
The party began to dwindle. Johnny grabbed his clothes from the bundle that the Amazon had abandoned and dressed quickly, avoiding anyone’s gaze. Akihiro put on his own clothes and stood by when Johnny sat down again, staring at the table with a dejected expression. Akihiro was reeling. If he’d known what was happening, he’d have tried to prevent the game. Johnny was even avoiding his gaze; but he’d gripped Akihiro’s hand, and was squeezing it.
Spider-Man was looking at them and, when he sensed Akihiro’s eyes on him, even from behind the mask one could sense his silent encouragement.
Richards had taken charge of seeing the guests off. Wingfoot and Ben joined the table.
“We can take care of closing up shop,” Wingfoot murmured. Ben glanced at Akihiro and nodded encouragingly and Akihiro was lost, not knowing what to do, only knowing that he ached to make it right. “If you two want to head out.”
“It was a great party, Johnny,” Ben said earnestly. “Thank you.”
Johnny stirred. “Yeah. Yeah, okay. We’ll be going.”
He jumped to his feet and led Akihiro outside. He stood, a little away from the leaving party-goers, and stared up at the sky, ignoring the many worried glances.
Akihiro ached. “What’s wrong?” he asked, unwilling to wait any longer, yearning to help his partner. “Dearest, talk to me.”
Johnny finally looked at him and there was such fire in his eyes, such blazing certainty; it seared Akihiro to the core.
“Wanna fly with me?” Johnny said firmly.
Akihiro leaped to his side. “Always,” he murmured. “Can you fly, Johnny?”
“I’m all right. I’m with you.” Johnny took fire, a column of flames painlessly licking Akihiro, and he extended a hand.
Akihiro took it.
They flew, oh, forever. Johnny held him tight, their bodies flush, so close, sparks flying all around them. He was working through something. He always did that, he always flew when he was upset; when Akihiro had faked his death, Johnny had been flying around like that for days.
Johnny took them up high, high, so close to the stars, luminous points spinning around them. He drew patterns in the clouds and dropped them down again and went back up, restless, his heartbeat slowly lulling to quiet, his cheek resting against Akihiro’s. He shone bright, a supernova.
He’d come through. Akihiro clung to him and willed himself to be a pillar of comforting strength and he prayed his mother’s prayers, his family’s prayers. They were inadequate, but there was comfort in the syllables rolling off this tongue. They were musical, a mending spell in Johnny’s ear.
They brought Johnny back.
Johnny finally slowed down and flew closer to the city again. He landed on the rooftop of the Baxter Building, deserted but still owned by his family. He landed and he dissipated the flames and he stood there, a man with big blue eyes and a big heart, and Akihiro loved him with all his soul.
Johnny cupped Akihiro’s jaw, thumbing it gently, and for a moment they just looked at each other. He looked calmer now, settled. He’d made his decision; he was going to tell Akihiro. Akihiro held him and swore to always protect him.
“Do you remember,” Johnny murmured, “when we spoke here?”
Akihiro wouldn’t forget it until he lived. The night he’d realized that he cared about Johnny, that he couldn’t keep leading him on; the night he’d realized that he felt safe in Johnny’s arms. The night he’d almost burnt it all to ashes.
“Of course.” He held Johnny, exuding as much warm comfort as he could. It had been a similar night to this one, the stars above so bright, the sky so peaceful.
“We talked about peace,” Johnny murmured. “About how hard it was to come by.”
“I remember.” Johnny’s fingers traced Akihiro’s face before settling on the nape of his neck. His gaze was intense, it pulled Akihiro in, in, in, and Akihiro breathed Johnny’s air and exhaled: “Is therapy giving you peace?”
“Yes.” Johnny hummed, still so focused on him, still so calm. “You give me peace too.”
“I’m glad of it.” Akihiro reached up, his hands on Johnny’s shoulders. The scene in the poker room kept playing in his head, but he didn’t push.
“I’m handling a lot of things,” Johnny murmured. “Dredging up all sorts of… all the things that I used to think about, to sort of dance around, to avoid dealing with.”
“That’s good.”
“Yeah.” Johnny nodded. “You know… You know how my parents’ death fucked me up.”
“Yes.” He’d lost them so young, at such a formative age. He rarely spoke about them, but that had changed ever since undergoing therapy; he was more open now.
“I was a mess. I kept throwing myself at anything, anyone who could make me feel something. My powers… they only made it worse, they made me feel invincible.”
“You were grieving,” Akihiro pointed out. “You were trying to cope.” But Johnny already knew that; it must be the first thing his therapist had tackled. Hyper-sexuality seemed oh so convenient a coping mechanism, when in the thick of it.
That must be the reason behind his behavior in the poker room, then. He’d realized that he didn’t want to be like that, he didn’t want to be expected to act like that, to perform. He didn’t want to wear that persona anymore and he hated being seen like that.
“I know.” Johnny rested his forehead against Akihiro’s and heaved a sigh. “God, you’ve seen me at my worst. Johnny the jokester, fucking anything that moves.”
“You were always more than that,” Akihiro reassured him. “You had this quiet strength about you. This intense focus, this will to persevere in the face of adversity. It’s what made me fall in love with you.”
“Aki,” Johnny exhaled with reverence, holding him tight. “When you said you didn’t want to have sex, I… I was relieved. I didn’t know why, but I was so relieved. Because for so long I’d just been this warm, disposable body to fuck. I saw myself as that. Just a one-night stand, incapable of making people stay. No one has ever stayed.” He grimaced. “I mean, Medusa put me in the trash like we’d never met and she’s just the last one of a long line of people using me only to fuck or to… to scratch an itch.”
He was so tightly coiled, it made Akihiro’s heart ache.
“I’m sorry.” Akihiro returned the strong embrace, hoping to comfort him. He knew intimately what Johnny was talking about, and Johnny knew it. “You’ve always been more than that, Johnny. More than just a body.”
“Yeah.” Johnny tenderly stroked Akihiro’s back, his gaze so vulnerable. “Going without sex, finding together new ways to be intimate with you, these beautiful ways, Aki, it’s made me realize just how fucking much I was using sex as a crutch. You saved me.”
Akihiro’s chest ached, oh, so much. “We saved each other. Together.”
“We did.” Johnny was quiet, for a while, and he brushed Akihiro’s hair away from his face, humming gently.
Perhaps this was all there was to it. Perhaps this was the extent of his hurt and Akihiro would be there for him, and help him come through it, and in the future he’d be particularly careful to avoid any situation that might end like Ben’s party had ended. He knew what to look for, now.
But there was still something wrong and he knew it and his chest ached. He held Johnny and waited.
“When you met me,” Johnny began, speaking softly but not hesitantly. “When we met, I was at rock bottom. I’d been spiraling for years. And after that I died, and you died, and I lost my powers, and I lost my family, and I kept spiraling -” he broke off.
“I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you,” Akihiro said. But back then he’d still been a piece of work. He’d even contributed to hurt Johnny. He would only have damaged Johnny more if he’d tried to reach out at the time. He’d known that; it was the reason why he’d kept his distance.
“You’re here now,” Johnny said simply. “We’re together. Ever since… ever since we got together I’ve seen you heal and get better and I was so happy for you and then…” He hesitated, then he plunged on. “Then I saw you confront your tormentor and I was so proud and so angry for you and I realized…” His voice broke. “When you confronted Romulus, I realized… I...”
“Johnny?” Akihiro held him, alarmed, his heart filled with sadness, with panic. “It’s all right, you don’t have to tell me. I’m here. I’ll always be here.”
“I know,” Johnny gasped, holding on to him, his voice, his face filled with love and certainty. “Seeing you there, seeing you fight, seeing you destroy that monster, it made me realize that it wasn’t my f-f-fault.”
What wasn’t his -
“Of course it wasn’t your fault,” Akihiro said softly, holding him close. Inside he was reeling, but he drew on everything he knew, everything he’d learned. “It wasn’t. It never was.”
“Thought I was so s-s-stupid,” Johnny wailed, fisting Akihiro’s clothes.
“You aren’t, dearest, you never were -”
“Thought I l-l-loved her,” Johnny spat, tears in his eyes.
Akihiro waited. He held him and waited and swore to see Johnny restored, to see him fly high, to see him overcome this memory.
“I was young and vulnerable and struggling and she made me worse,” Johnny whimpered. “She made me think there was something wrong with me. I got so much worse after… after Lyja.”
He expelled the name with great difficulty.
Lyja. It was the first time Akihiro heard of her, a secret so closely guarded. Akihiro hated the name as soon as he heard it, hated the way Johnny trembled as he spoke it. She’d hurt Johnny, she’d made him second-guess everything.
He held Johnny and waited for him to find the words. He wondered how could he have missed this, this trauma, this pain, how could he have overlooked it, but he’d been so wrapped up in his own misery then. He’d been remiss.
But he was here now. He was here for Johnny.
Johnny shifted. “I didn’t tell you that day because it was so fucked up… it seemed as if I was comparing what happened to me with the shit you lived through, and it was… it felt so unfair and disrespectful. But the doc made me see that it wasn’t, that I was hurt.”
“You were,” Akihiro agreed firmly. “And I’m truly sorry I made you feel like you couldn't tell me, Johnny.”
He recalled Johnny’s nightmare, his face that morning. Johnny had been working through a terrible revelation as they spoke, as they lay together comforting each other. Akihiro had known it then, and he’d given him space, sensing that Johnny needed it. But he regretted that one of the reasons why Johnny had held back was because he felt that his trauma was inadequate.
“It wasn’t really you,” Johnny murmured. “I was ashamed and relieved and confused and I was reeling. It helped me, going on for a day as if nothing was wrong. But I knew… I knew I had to get help.”
The Inhumans’ arrival had spurred him to action. Perhaps Medusa’s presence had triggered again the memory of coping with sex and, in turn, of the trauma he was struggling with. Or, perhaps…
‘Lyja’ didn’t seem like a human name. Perhaps she was an Inhuman?
“And you did,” Akihiro said softly. “I’m so proud of you.”
“Yeah.” Johnny hid his face against the crook of Akihiro’s neck and stood there for a while, just quietly breathing, his heartbeat calmer.
Akihiro held him and passed his fingers through Johnny’s hair, gentle and comforting.
He was fighting the urge to track down this Lyja and hurt her. He was calling on every ounce of what Jean had taught him, what his mother was teaching him, what his family had taught him, what staying at the mansion and fighting and healing had taught him; every fiber of his being was going against what Romulus had done to him.
He wouldn’t succumb. He was a changed man, a better man, and he’d just support Johnny.
“I’m getting better,” Johnny muttered, his breath so warm against Akihiro’s skin. “I’m talking it through and it helps a lot. But I wanna tell you about her. I need to tell you about her.”
“Of course.” Akihiro murmured. “I’m here, Johnny.”
Johnny raised his head and moved back a bit, holding Akihiro loosely. “Can you hear it tonight or do you need to rain-check?” he asked softly, with a knowing gaze. “I don’t want to overwhelm you. It’s enough that I got to tell you this. If you need some time to let it sink in, it’s all right.”
Akihiro took stock. It was true that he was struggling with an anger he hadn’t felt in so long, but he was also better equipped to deal with it. If Johnny had broached the subject now, after so many months of silence, he obviously needed to unburden himself. He wasn’t keeping it bottled up: he’d told his therapist, and his family knew – and probably were beating themselves up about it, about not noticing, about not helping – and his friends knew, too; but he needed to tell Akihiro, just as Akihiro had needed to tell him about Romulus.
It was just different than telling anyone else, more intimate. The kind of thing that it seemed paramount to tell a partner. And if Johnny needed to tell him now, tonight, hours before his friend’s wedding, still so high-strung from what had happened at the bachelor party, and if Akihiro knew he could take it, could listen and comfort and knew that he had a safety net ready for him if he was indeed overwhelmed… then he’d listen.
“Let’s sit down,” he suggested quietly. “Tell me what you need to tell me.”
There was nothing to sit on but it didn’t matter. They put their jackets on the concrete and sat on them and leaned against the parapet. The stars moved bright and clear above their heads. They were so high up that most of the city’s buildings couldn't disturb the view.
Johnny didn’t speak immediately. They sat there, their arms wrapped around each other’s waist, and looked up at the sky. It helped Akihiro, in a way; he was able to center himself better, to let go of his anger. Johnny was breathing quietly, content with their small moment of peace.
It was so peaceful on the rooftop. No wonder Johnny used to spend hours up there.
Johnny shifted and he spoke softly in the dark.
“Lyja was… She was a Skrull who pretended to be Alicia in order to infiltrate us. Alicia and Ben had broken up at the time so Lyja turned her efforts on me and…” He sighed. “Well, we married.”
Oh. Oh.
The pieces came together.
Akihiro was glad he’d let Johnny speak now. With the marriage between his friend and the real Alicia just hours away, he ought to be reeling. No doubt he’d already discussed all this with Ben, but still… He must be aching. The fact that he’d had his epiphany just when Ben had decided to tie the knot was an unfortunate coincidence, too.
He held Johnny and let him work out the words.
“We were together for years and I never noticed,” Johnny said slowly. There was a hint of self-pity in his voice, but not too much. He was obviously working on it. “We never noticed,” he amended, sure enough. “Then she slipped and we fought her but she said that she’d abandoned her mission, that she’d fallen for me, and I… I was confused, and hurt, and she helped us save Alicia and then she… she seemed to die. I thought… I thought I loved her. I mourned her.”
There was a pause and he moved closer to Akihiro, seeking warmth and comfort. Akihiro held him and gave them to him, soothingly rubbing his back and arms, letting him set the pace.
Johnny shuddered.
“I’m here,” Akihiro murmured. “I’m here with you, Johnny.”
“Yeah.” Johnny turned his head, pressing his cheek to Akihiro’s shoulder.
This Lyja had done what Akihiro had set out to do years ago, what he’d stopped himself from doing. She’d ruthlessly played Johnny and hurt him in such a way he was just now recovering from. She was like a distorted mirror of what Akihiro could have done if he’d kept playing Johnny, of the terrible damage he could have inflicted on the man he loved. It was uncomfortable to see it plain and clear like that, but he forced himself not to look away, to stare at the parallels unflinchingly. Johnny deserved nothing less.
“If she’d just left it at that,” Johnny exhaled. “If she’d just left me alone after that, I could have come back from it. I wouldn’t have thought that it was my fault, that I was so desperate for affection that I kept falling for her tricks. I’d have been better. I wouldn’t have kept throwing myself at people because it was the only thing I thought I was good for. I spent years thinking that I loved her, thinking that I was so stupid for loving her after everything she did.”
He was trembling a bit. Akihiro could only hold him, hold him and comfort him. It hurt, to see Johnny like this. He was comforted by the fact that Johnny was seeing a therapist and working through everything and fighting to get better. He wasn’t alone in this, and Akihiro wasn’t alone in being his support system.
“You weren’t stupid,” he murmured. “She used you.”
Johnny nodded. “After she ‘died’,” he spat, “she came back, pretending to be pregnant.” Oh, God. “And I tried to be together, you know, for the baby, even if there was something nagging at me already. But there was no baby, she was just trying to keep me close.” He smelled of regret, a regret so stark, mourning a fatherhood that had been yanked from him. “And then, when I pushed her away, she kept stalking me, pretending to be someone else. She’s been acting as if she did nothing wrong for years now and I kept giving her chances. She… She fucked me up, Aki,” he concluded, very softly. “She really did. And I only realized now.”
“It took great strength,” Akihiro said, holding him close. “I’m so proud of you, Johnny. For fighting back and seeking help. For persevering, even after what she did. You took yourself back.”
“Yeah.” Johnny took a deep breath and turned in his arms to watch him, his eyes clear. “It was… it was seeing you with Romulus. Seeing that monster act as if everything was normal, as if it was all in your head. It woke me up.”
“I’m glad I could help you, dearest.” Akihiro cupped Johnny’s face, gently, exuding all his love, all his support.
He wouldn’t ask where she was now. He wouldn’t because he wouldn’t succumb to violence and only Johnny ought to decide what to do about her.
“You did.” Johnny embraced him and rested his head on Akihiro’s chest, breathing quietly. “I’m sorry I never told you about her,” he murmured. “I’m sorry it took months to tell you.”
“You don’t need to apologize.” Akihiro wrapped his arms around him, holding him close. He nuzzled Johnny’s hair. “I know how much it takes to deal with something like this. You took the time you needed.”
“I’m glad I told you.” Johnny slightly changed position, making himself more comfortable against Akihiro’s body. “I love you so much, Aki.”
“And I love you.”
He held Johnny and they sat there under the starlit sky, wrapped around each other, for a time that seemed eternal. And they knew that it was a journey that would take long, but they were on the right path, and they could rely on each other and all the ties they had, all the people who surrounded them, who loved them. It was all right.
Eventually Johnny’s phone came to life, his family probably wondering if everything was all right. With a sigh Johnny disentangled himself from Akihiro and sat up. Akihiro had to stop himself from snatching him closer. He wanted to hold Johnny and comfort him and make the whole world safe for him.
“It’s Reed,” Johnny said, perusing his phone. “Asks if I’m okay.” He bit his lip and glanced up at Akihiro. “I don’t wanna head back yet.”
“We can stay for as long as you want,” Akihiro said softly. “But I do think you need to get a good night’s sleep on a mattress. Tomorrow’s a big day.”
“I could stay with you. I’ll fly back first thing in the morning.”
He probably wanted to avoid too much fretting over him. Ben and Richards were bound to make him relive it all over again, and then Sue would return from the bachelorette party, if she hadn’t already.
“Of course.”
They flew to the mansion. Johnny’s flying was temperate now, more controlled. He held Akihiro with a confidence and a serenity that put Akihiro’s mind at ease.
It was the dead of night and all lights were out. They moved silently through the corridors, fingers laced together, and he was so focused on Johnny that he almost led them to his old room, which now housed Bellona.
They reached his room. He closed the door behind them and stood there for a moment, just watching Johnny, filled with tenderness and love. Johnny grabbed a pair of boxers and changed quickly, with all the naturalness of a domesticity they’d matured over months.
“Hey,” Akihiro breathed.
Johnny looked up, beaming, and certainty seared itself in Akihiro’s heart. He joined Johnny by the bed and took his hands.
“When I come back from Japan, let’s find an apartment.”
Johnny smiled like the sun.
Ben’s wedding went well, if one didn’t count that it was almost stopped by Galactus, and finals came and went, even if Akihiro had taught for just a trimester; and soon it was time to leave. Akihiro had almost pondered joining his mother at a later date, but Johnny was doing all right; Akihiro had even had an informal chat with his therapist, as the man wanted to meet him.
When he and Johnny weren’t together and Johnny wasn’t on a mission, his role in the Fantastic Four finally reclaimed, Johnny busied himself with real-estate websites. He kept sending links and pictures to Akihiro.
Akihiro did the same, but he found better places.
It was all moot anyway, they’d go really looking only when he came back. But it was incredible to do something so mundane, so grounded.
Gabby had grinned wickedly when he’d told his sisters. Laura had just looked at him with that supportive gaze of hers and said she was pondering to do the same with Jubilee.
The apartment would be a haven, a place that would only be theirs, where they could go when they wanted to be alone. They’d still retain their rooms, Johnny’s at his family’s new house, Akihiro’s at the mansion.
Logan’s eyes had gone wide as saucers when he heard the news. He looked ready to faint.
“We’re not getting married, dad.” Nonetheless, Akihiro’s heart fluttered at the notion. He busied himself by keeping his father upright and patting Logan’s back when it turned into a tearful hug. “It’s just an apartment.”
His mother had smiled knowingly, and embraced him.
“I’m glad,” she’d said with a soft voice. “I’m glad for you, my Akihiro.”
He spent at Johnny’s the night before he was to leave and they relearned every inch and every curve of each other, tucking the memory away. Johnny rested his arm on Akihiro’s chest, and his chin on his arm, and he looked so bright, and safe, and whole.
“I’m going to keep sending you photos,” he grinned.
“Please do.” Akihiro thumbed Johnny’s jaw, enamored. “But send me some selfies too.”
Johnny’s smile softened. “Absolutely. And you bring me some souvenirs, all right?”
“Of course.”
“And…” Johnny said, more quietly. “I hope you find your mom’s village.”
“I hope we do, too.” Akihiro sighed.
He wondered what kind of people they’d find; if they were still hidden or if they’d adapted to the world around them. He wondered if, bereft of the one who was to be their shaman, they’d managed to make do.
Or perhaps his mother’s parents had produced a sister after she left, a sister who’d managed to inherit their powers. Perhaps there was a line, a strong line, a family for her to return to, for him to discover; they’d take his mother back with open arms, happy and grateful to see her alive.
He knew it was what she hoped. He was sure it was what they’d find.
But these thoughts were for tomorrow.
For now he lay with Johnny, content.
All was well, and all would be well.
Fin.
... Not really! Head over to the next chapter for a bonus epilogue that I wrote a year after finishing this, and for an announcement!
Notes:
[Marvel Database lists Daken’s adoptive brother as ‘Junichiro’ but I wonder where they took that information as it’s nowhere in the comics; I know that every fic writer uses it, but it never convinced me, soooo I made up another name. I know it’s confusing! Sorry ^^”
On a similar note, we know only the Mongrels’ codenames (save for Gunhawk, William Downing) so I made them up. Cannonfoot’s (Jack here) asexuality is an old headcanon from a very old fic of mine.
Johnny says some heartbreaking things in Fantastic Four (2018) #5, during and after Ben Grimm’s bachelor party, so I’ve always wanted to tackle that too. I ended up doing it in the last chapter but I think it works well thematically. In this fic Johnny has already made the leap that Ben urges him to make, so the party goes a little differently… But not too much.
The dead student Jean mentions is Laurie Collins, codename Wallflower.
While there are a few teasers in this chapter, the story ends here.].
Well, it’s over! I can’t believe it’s done. It’s been two full years! I never expected the story would get this long when I opened the word processor to angrily write off Akihiro’s umpteenth death. It sure turned into a journey! I know I shouldn’t say it myself but I’m really proud of how this story turned out. I hope you all liked it too!
Thanks for all the views, and the kudos, and the comments, and the bookmarks. I’ve never had so many people subscribe to a fic before!
I’d love a final review ^-^ Leave me a comment if you want! I’d love to know what you think ^-^
Chapter 63: Epilogue
Summary:
I'm back! And I wrote a bonus epilogue! I hope you like it!
Notes:
“What’s this?” I hear you say, “Last year you said that the story was finished!”
Well… You’re right. When I put the word Fin, I was sure that the story was finished. I left some trails in the final chapters, but I thought I wouldn’t want to follow them.
But this story is near and dear to my heart. It’s the one I started when I thought I wouldn’t find joy in writing again, and it accompanied me for two years. It’s the story I’m proudest of. And sometimes I revisit it, and I revisit the notes I made for a possible sequel, and sometimes I add to those notes. I have a pretty long document already! And I still don’t know if I can commit again to a project of a similar size, but lately I wanted to return to this verse again, so I wrote a thing that could work as an additional epilogue... but also as an appetizer, if you will.
I’m adding this story to a series with the same title, so subscribing to the series is a good way to know when/if I post a sequel.
Only time will tell if I’ll write that sequel, but at least you can dive into this verse of mine for a chapter more. I thought you might like that. I certainly liked writing it.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Epilogue
Akihiro went to Hokkaido with his mother.
When she’d told him where, exactly, her village was located - especially when she explained that it was more of a settlement than an actual village - he’d thought that her family had surely moved by now. The Hidaka Mountains located at the center of the island were renowned for their hiking opportunities, and even though Mount Tottabetsu was rarely a destination due to the difficult trail and the fact that it was deep into the mountain range, it still was on the way to other peaks. The coming and going of people would surely disturb a secretive community; the advent of technology, especially satellite imagery, would make hiding in the forest-covered slopes more difficult.
Still, they wouldn’t know until they went.
So they took a plane.
His mother insisted on going the scenic route instead of teleporting in, landing in Sapporo and then using trains to traverse the island; she wanted to experience the countryside, relive the journey, reclaim her land. And he had to admit that re-experiencing his country right alongside her, despite never having put foot in Hokkaido, was invigorating. They took their time, stopping in various cities and villages along the way, almost like tourists.
It had been a long time since he’d had the opportunity to enjoy the simple things in his homeland; he was a child, still living in Sendai, when he’d last visited a Tanabata festival. He was glad that he got to reclaim this too, and that he got to do it with his mother. Summer was a good season for it, and Hokkaido hosted many interesting festivals. His mother was delighted, though he caught a wistful expression on her face from time to time.
Every night he updated everyone, dutifully sending pictures to his little sister in anticipation of the oncoming vacation, and browsing the photos Johnny sent him; exactly the day after Akihiro left, Johnny found an apartment he was already enamored with, and judging from the photos, Akihiro might concur. It was a large space, with wide windows and a lot of light coming in.
Laura and Lorna were more sedate in their texts, and Logan wrote sparsely. Akihiro even texted Jean once or twice; he liked the woman, and he thought that they might be becoming friends.
His mother didn’t have such distractions. When they retired for the night, she didn’t have the option of endless chats with hyper-active people, only having brief phone calls with her group of friends. As they came closer and closer to their destination, her trepidation only grew.
She was coming home, and she didn’t know how she’d be received; she didn’t even know if anyone was still there. She began talking about her family more, especially those they were certain would be dead. Her parents, Akihiro’s grandparents; her grandmother, the shaman whose place she was bound to take eventually, whose death had drawn her away. She still held a great affection for the old woman who’d taught her everything she knew, and was glad that at least she hadn’t lived to see her grandchild flee. She talked, too, about a cousin her age, the daughter of her mother’s sister: they were both tutored by their grandmother until only Akihiro’s mother exhibited the first signs of Pherokinesis. They were great friends, and Akihiro’s mother had confided in her that she wanted to leave, and the girl had turned the other way when the time had come, allowing the escape.
One time Akihiro asked her if she wanted to take that place, if she wanted to become what she’d tried so hard to flee from.
She looked away, her gaze remote. “I do not know. It all depends on what we find.”
Silently, she reached out, seeking his hand. He squeezed her hand; they were nearing the end, and there was very little he could do to comfort her now. He could only offer his presence and weather with her anything that they found.
It turned out that they did the right thing, approaching by train.
In the final part of the journey, on the train leading them to the only city in the prefecture, they were hailed as fellow hikers by a chatty couple who wanted to exchange tips, lured by their expensive-looking gear. When the two realized that Akihiro and his mother didn’t have any maps, they warned them that the cellular reception in the area was abysmal and cautioned them from relying on electronic devices to navigate the steep grounds. The woman pulled out her map and showed it to his mother, while her partner reassured Akihiro that they wouldn’t have problems finding some in the city.
Akihiro glanced out of the windows as the majestic sight of the mountains came nearer to greet them. They’d thought his mother’s memory could guide them adequately, but judging from the little frown on her forehead as her eyes avidly roved the map, she mustn’t be so sure of herself anymore.
And then she held her breath, subtly shifting her expression as if she were inconvenienced. He met her gaze in question, and she tilted her head with a grimace.
“I’m not feeling in shape,” she told him in an apologetic tone. “I was thinking we might have better luck with Mount Fushimi. Let’s take the train to Memuro.”
Mount Fushimi was a far easier hike. Affecting an ailment was a show for the couple’s benefit, but Akihiro didn’t think that it was just to lose their trail. Had she seen something on the map, perhaps?
He couldn’t ask her now. They suffered through ten long minutes as they left the train and the couple said their goodbyes, the woman obviously saddened that they wouldn’t have a double date up the Kamuieku, and her partner just as obviously relieved that they wouldn’t be slowed down by someone he viewed as spoiled and inexperienced.
When they were alone in the station his mother lost the troubled expression, a slow soft smile overcoming her features. “I can’t believe I forgot!” she exclaimed.
“What’s in Memuro?” he asked, following her to the other train.
“There’s a small shrine where people went to petition an audience in the winter, when coming to the mountain on one’s own was impossible. It seems it’s still there, so we ought to check if they still offer that service.”
So they did. Once they arrived in the small town, it was a short walk from the station to the park housing two shrines, one bigger and much frequented, another hidden beneath the trees. This last one was the one his mother approached, only to find it closed and unmanned. They returned to the first shrine - so sleek and modern - and were assured that someone would be sent immediately so they could be allowed to pray in the haiden, the hall of worship.
They returned to the smaller shrine and waited. It was really small, even lacking the sanctuary where the god was usually housed. But since it obviously was an old shrine, centuries-old, and given there were actual powers nearby, that was to be expected.
It was dedicated to Inari, kami of fertility and rice… and foxes, as marked by the pair of kitsune statues in front of the small building. His mother’s gaze turned pensive as she stared at them and Akihiro wondered if she was only just thinking about her past here, or also about the fortuity of Remus naming her Kitsune, as if the monstress knew where she came from after all.
Still, there was nothing out of the ordinary in an outsider giving a Japanese person the name of the most well-known spirits in Japanese folklore, the intelligent foxes who could either trick people or be faithful guardians. Fox statues were everywhere in Japan; he’d seen kitsune masks in every market they’d visited. He didn’t think there was anything to worry about, on that front; and Remus was in prison, anyway.
Finally, after about twenty minutes, he sensed someone coming their way; he nudged his mother, who straightened up, nervous. When it was near enough that Akihiro could smell that the stranger was a male, he could also smell with absolute certainty that the man still out of view was family.
He had the same scent as Akihiro’s mother. Not an immediate relative, but someone close enough. As the man finally came out of the trees, Akihiro put his hand on his mother’s arm and warned her.
“He smells like you,” he whispered.
She came alive. Perhaps up until this moment she hadn’t truly believed that she’d find her people again, that she’d reunite with those she’d foolishly left; but now it was real. Now she was confronted with the reality that her line hadn’t died out, that there was still someone out there. That their legacy hadn’t died with her.
That she had family left.
Akihiro found himself studying the features of the man coming to a stop in front of them, trying to divine any resemblance. He looked to be in his forties and had hard features, sharpened by the mountains, but his cheekbones… they looked like Akihiro’s, like his mother’s. Was he a cousin, many times removed?
“Welcome!” he said warmly, bowing deeply. “Do you wish to pray?”
“No, thank you.” His mother bowed deeper. “In truth, I seek an audience with the esteemed guardians of the mountain.”
She spoke in that older Japanese that she still used sometimes; not the one she’d used when she renounced her blades, but another variant. A young man like the one in front of them couldn’t possibly understand it, if he wasn’t in the know; this would tell them if her people still lived, without having to hike. His mother would probably still want to go, at least to show him where she’d grown up, but this way she could adjust her expectations and save herself a heartbreak.
The man was obviously taken aback, his eyes wide, but he took it in stride.
“I’m sorry, the guardians grant no audiences,” he answered in the same variant, rolling off his tongue clearly but slowly, as if he wasn’t accustomed to use it. He gestured towards the shrine, returning to current Japanese. “You can still pray, though.”
Did that mean the line had died out? No, he could have just pretended not to understand her; instead, he’d answered. There was someone in charge. Akihiro wondered why they wouldn’t see people who came asking for help, but then again, so many decades had passed, and things must have changed. There could be more sinister reasons, but he perceived no ill intent coming from the man.
His mother didn’t seem to think too much about it, either. The revelation elated her even more, and she stood vibrating with girlish excitement that nonetheless she hid well.
“Perhaps you can tell them that a daughter has come home,” she said in that archaic language again, bowing and using her pheromones, making the air shimmer slightly around the man; a harmless trick that was much used in her time, one of the first things her grandmother had taught her, to show off her power without frightening anyone.
But the man gasped, wide-eyed, and took a step back. Such a dramatic response could only mean that he had no idea what she was doing. Akihiro’s mother straightened up, raising a hand beseechingly.
“Oh, please don’t be alarmed -”
“Who are you?” he cut her off, hastily bowing to diminish his rudeness. “How can you do that?”
He did know what she’d done; he was just surprised she could.
She rested her hands in front of her and bowed her head.
“I’m family,” she said softly. “I’ve come home, if you’ll have me.”
“Family?” The man trained a feverish gaze on her, studying her features as he hadn’t before; perhaps, finally seeing the similarities. His eyes snapped to Akihiro too, almost voracious, his eyebrows reaching his hairline. “Are you… Do you descend from the one who went away?”
The one who went away. It was a harsh moniker, but perhaps less than ‘the one who abandoned us’ or some such thing. Still, Akihiro put his hand on his mother’s arm to steady her, seeing in the way her smile froze on her face that she’d felt that blow as if she’d been physically hit.
He’d let her decide what to say.
It had crossed her mind to pretend to be her own descendant, if only to avoid having to explain her youthful appearance; Akihiro had readily agreed that they could pretend to be siblings if it meant easing her way back. But she’d eventually dismissed the idea, saying that she only wanted to give her family the truth.
She bowed. “It’s a long story. May I be allowed to see my people? I’ll explain everything.”
Akihiro kept his gaze trained on the man, who beside that small moment was mostly ignoring him, more focused on Akihiro’s mother. There was such wonder on his features, it reminded Akihiro of what he’d felt when she’d finally revealed herself to truly be his mother. Such longing. Even too much; perhaps no one had manifested Pherokinesis after his mother’s departure, and so the entire family only knew of such power from stories. She had told him that the power skipped only one or two generations, but if the line had died out…
Akihiro moved closer to her protectively, knowing very well that she could defend herself but fearing they might want to use her. Such a thing would hurt her greatly.
Eventually the man took a small step back, an apologetic grimace on his face, his hand in his pocket. “I’m sorry, I have to make a phone call before I do anything.”
“Of course,” Akihiro said smoothly when his mother only nodded, overwhelmed. “We’ll wait here.”
The man retreated behind the line of the trees, still visible but his speech inaudible to anyone. Unfortunately for him, Akihiro wasn’t a common person. He smiled affably at the man and turned to pretend to speak with his mother as he listened to the conversation taking place behind him and repeated to her everything he heard.
The man was agitated, excited. He described ‘the couple at the shrine’ in great detail, marveling at the family resemblance, and he explained everything that had been said and done. He called ‘using the gift’ that small trick Akihiro’s mother did, exactly as she’d said their powers had always been called in the family. He asked if he could bring home Akihiro and his mother.
Whoever he was talking to didn’t seem convinced. The man was asked multiple times to describe the trick, until he exploded, exasperated.
“I’m telling you!” he whispered urgently, trying to control his voice. “It was exactly like auntie always says. But it was softer than Satoko’s, somehow, less intrusive. More controlled, if it makes sense. It wasn’t like anything I’ve ever felt... she certainly knows what she’s doing.”
So at least someone possessed Pherokinesis. But they’d lost the culture surrounding its usage, maybe?
“If Itsu-sama had children, that might explain… Yes, yes, I told you, she’s obviously family… she looks exactly like Kaede-chan, they could be sisters! Look, she knows the words! How else… she must be descending from Itsu-sama!”
They were in for a big surprise. His mother grimaced as Akihiro repeated the last words, dreading having to explain what really had happened.
“No, no, I don’t think so,” the man continued, more sedated. “He looks a lot like Hinata, actually. He must be her brother… and she’d know enough not to bring a stranger, don’t you think?”
Ah, so now they were talking about Akihiro. It was strange, to think that he looked like someone else, that he had a family member he closely resembled. He stumbled on the words, and his mother gave him a gentle smile.
“Yes. Yes, all right,” the man said, and then he was coming towards Akihiro and his mother, still on the phone. “Excuse me, can you tell me the names of Itsu-sama’s mother and father?”
“Fumiko,” she breathed, her scent filled with longing. “And Akira.”
Akihiro still marveled at the idea that she’d wanted to honor her father when deciding on a name for her own child. His grandfather was a softer man than Akihiro had ever been, much like Logan’s father, like Akihira; and greatly loved. The ghost of his name tied Akihiro closer to this family, to the idea that he had relatives on her side... hidden away, unknown.
She caught Akihiro’s hand and squeezed it, attuned to his moods.
“Do you want to know Hayami-sama’s name too?” She asked, tilting her head to mask the pang of regret on her face. Her grandmother, whose legacy she’d abandoned.
“No… No, no need.” The man was staring at her, shocked even though he’d been the one to believe her from the start. He swallowed and spoke into the phone. “You heard that, right?”
“Yes,” a woman’s choked voice answered. “Bring them home, Kota-chan.”
“It’s not a long ride.”
Kota bade them climb his old car and drove to the outskirts of the town, towards the rice fields.
“It’s better to live there,” he exclaimed. “Less people around. Especially with the, huh, training, you know.”
He glanced in the rearview mirror just for a second, at Akihiro’s mother. He was working really hard to mask the excitement, mostly addressing Akihiro. The family gift’s users, after all, were sacred; they were shamans. One must address them respectfully. He’d get a heart attack if he’d known that Akihiro had Pherokinesis too, and that he was talking to him so freely.
He’d get a heart attack regardless. The entire family would: according to Akihiro’s mother, no male had ever inherited the power, which had always gone down the matriline instead. McCoy was fascinated by this, and he posited that the drastic change in pattern might be due to Logan’s gametes.
Remus had acted on that same hunch when she’d kidnapped him: she’d thought that an union with Logan could preserve the mother’s powers in the child. After all, it was very rare that a mutant child gained the powers of both their parents; Logan was an outlier in this regard.
Akihiro’s mother didn’t know how that particular piece of information could be received; despite having so much time to prepare, they hadn’t yet decided what to tell the family about that.
“So you’re farmers?” he asked Kota.
The man nodded. “Yeah, we have a small business. The guardians came down the mountain during the war and joined the rest of the family in town. They thought they should help more. They were without a shaman then,” he spoke hesitantly, obviously unwilling to offend with an accusatory tone.
But she must be at least a bit pleased at the notion that they’d taken a leaf out of her book and involved themselves more. Hadn’t she left because she thought there was more to be done?
“A few were conscripted,” the man spoke quietly. “We managed to hide Akira-san and some others, but we couldn’t hide everyone. Only my grandpa came back.”
Akihiro looked at his mother, who’d lost some colour along with some cousins and uncles. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.
She must be thinking that it wouldn’t have happened if she hadn’t left. That the distant branches of the family, the cousins who tended to the shrine and kept communications going, could have gone hiding in the mountains with the gifted branch, ignoring the war.
“The whole town lost a lot of men.” Kota shrugged. “The whole country. After the war, there was a lot to rebuild. They stayed and helped and eventually we became one. Auntie always says that it was the only thing that could have possibly happened, and rightly so.”
“This auntie,” she said, breathless, “Is she from the mountain?”
She must be thinking it could be her sister. She didn’t have sisters, but perhaps her parents had another daughter after she’d left, and now there was a last living link to her dead parents. Akihiro saw the trepidation in her eyes, felt it.
“Sure, she’s from the mountain,” Kota said, unaware of the maelstrom of emotion he’d caused. “But you’ll get to meet her, she’ll want to see you for sure. Ah, there she is!”
They were nearing a cluster of houses, with a few people waiting outside.
Sure enough, there stood an elderly lady, truly ancient judging from her wrinkles. She was a short frail thing, her back hunched by her age. She had a cane, but she was additionally leaning against a woman in her forties who observed their approach with keen eyes, possibly the leader. There were other three women of the same age; and a girl and a boy, not yet twenty, probably siblings, peered from an open window. In the doorway stood the man their guide had called Hinata. Kota had been right: save from the different eye-color, it was like looking in a distorted mirror for Akihiro, who got a disturbing glimpse into what he’d have looked like had he lived a normal life, marred by physical work. He was obviously the same age Akihiro seemed to be, but life in these types of communities was hard on the body.
His mother was watching avidly as they pulled over, and she was the first out of the car, before Kota could reverently open the door for her. Akihiro joined her as they withstood the family’s scrutiny, matching Akihiro’s in intensity.
At an imperceptible nod from the woman in her forties, Kota urged them forward with many a bow. Akihiro was hit by an onslaught of scents, all screaming family. He almost stopped short, hit by a sudden aching thought.
He had family in this ridiculous little town in the middle of nowhere, with its rice fields and a train station that was so new because the railroad hadn’t probably even existed when his mother lived here.
He already had a family. He had Laura and Gabby and Bellona and his mother and his father, and Johnny, and Laura’s family, and the stupid X-Men, and now this, this… was overlwhelming. He’d never thought, he’d never dared to imagine, that it could come to this. For so long he’d thought that he was alone, that he’d always be, that the only person caring for him - if that could be called caring - would be Romulus.
And this was ridiculous, he didn’t even know if the people in front of him would accept him, he didn’t even know if he wanted to be accepted by them, maybe they were all impossible people to be around, and they were just distant relatives, but the mere possibility lying in front of him was staggering.
His mother looped her arm under his, silently comforting him even as she needed to be supported. He composed himself and refocused on his purpose in accompanying her here; she was reconnecting with her family. The rest could wait.
Kota had been too excited to ask for their names. He realized his mistake as they finally reached the group standing in front of the house and the forty-year-old raised an eyebrow expectantly and he looked between them, stunned, unsure of what to do.
He was spared the awkwardness by the frail auntie, who raised rheumy eyes to regard them. She blinked blearily for a long moment, and then, with a surprisingly strong voice, she said: “Is that you, Itsu?”
Akihiro’s mother inhaled sharply. She let go of Akihiro’s arm and took a step forward, studying the face of the old woman in front of her even as the rest of the family hastily corrected their elder. They spoke in a respectful manner, but firmly.
“No, grandma, I told you, they’re her great grandchildren,” the possible leader finally said, bowing in apology to Akihiro and his mother, trying to lead the old woman away.
But the latter wouldn’t budge, digging her cane into the ground, her gaze fixed on the face of Akihiro’s mother, clear recognition in her eyes. The two regarded each other in wonder. His mother was obviously wracking her brain, trying to discern in the ancient lines carving the woman’s face the features of someone she once knew.
“Let’s get you to bed, grandma,” the leader pleaded, tugging at her arm, and finally the old woman snapped and pulled her arm away, never taking her eyes off his mother.
“Don’t you think I would know my own cousin?”
“Cousin...?” His mother whispered, and then gasped. “Minako?”
“Of course it’s me, you airhead!” The old woman exclaimed with the no-nonsense tone that some people her age used, tapping her cane. “Just where have you been? You said you’d be back soon!”
With a strangled sob, his mother closed the distance between them, gingerly wrapping her arms around the frail body of her first cousin. Minako immediately returned the hug, crestfallen. They’d dismissed the possibility of her survival, since she would be over a hundred years old.
And instead here she stood, frail yes, but still moving, and with a sharp mind to boot, if she’d managed to recognize her cousin. But older people often recalled more clearly the events of their youth rather than more recent things.
Meanwhile the leader - this one was Akihiro’s first cousin a few times removed, if her calling Minako ‘grandma’ was anything to go by - had let go of Minako’s arm and was regarding the pair of embracing women with shock and incomprehension, wide eyes darting rapidly between them and landing on Akihiro once or twice. The rest of the family was equally flummoxed, but soon the murmurs would begin and the confusion would turn into disbelief, possibly anger.
Akihiro touched his mother’s back. “We should explain.”
That wasn’t a moment too soon, because as his mother reluctantly ended the hug, straightening up with a watery smile, the leader extended an arm in front of Minako in a protective manner.
“What’s the meaning of this?” she hissed, her eyes turned to slits.
She suspected foul play, and who wouldn’t in her stead? To her, they were swindlers trying to take control of the family or maybe even take the Satoko mentioned by Kota; perhaps they were posing as relatives, and they were even mimicking the gift in some way. Anything was more plausible than the story that Akihiro and his mother were about to spin.
But his mother wasn’t so easily deterred, not with the extent of the loss still tearing at her, her wound barely soothed by being here. She bowed, and kept her bow low, and spoke in her old language. “Please forgive the subterfuge. My tale is… unusual. I am Itsu -”
“That’s impossible,” the leader scoffed, echoed by the rest of the family. Kota was staring at Akihiro and his mother with big, betrayed eyes. “Get out of the property -”
“We can’t just let them leave,” a woman said darkly.
The man called Hinata had disappeared from the doorway and reappeared at the window the boy and girl were peering from, trying to make them get inside. Another woman was switching to an offensive stance and Akihiro was sharply reminded that the Pherokinesis-users of the family used to train to fight; perhaps this was true even of those who didn’t have the power. They’d been pacifists during his mother’s time, but the world was a bigger place now, and more dangerous. Especially to mutants.
The air was thick with hostility; Akihiro did the only thing decades-old instincts told him to do and jumped in front of his mother, pumping out soothing pheromones in a manner far different than what she’d been teaching him. Her training had still changed the way he used them, though, so he had a far better control and reach than he’d ever had.
Eyelids drooped, people swayed; the girl at the window - Satoko, evidently - was the only one less affected than the others, and stared at him, shocked, as she held the boy up, instinct clearly kicking in as she attempted a protective shield, like the one he’d used when his mother had attacked him in Central Park.
His mother touched his arm, warm and grounding.
He was making a mess of this. He zeroed in on her and turned to her teachings, thinning his usage, molding it until the cloud of oppression dissipated. She stepped to his side, helping him gentle the tide.
Minako was the first to recover, balancing herself against her cane, grinning wide.
The leader straightened up, breathless. “You’re obviously family,” she exhaled.
Her gaze was fixed on Akihiro’s mother; she mustn’t have realized it had been his doing, and a quick glance around them told him that only the girl was staring slack-jawed at him. This forced their hand; now they had to reveal he had their same ‘gift’.
But not yet.
For now, his mother merely nodded. “I’m Itsu,” she said in contemporary Japanese.
“You’re obviously family,” the leader repeated, a twinge of irritation in her voice. “So why such a preposterous lie?”
“Exactly,” his mother agreed serenely. “We’re obviously family, so why would I try to sell such a fantastical tale instead?” She cocked her head. “I considered keeping this simple and pretending to be my own great granddaughter, but you deserve the truth.”
Something in her voice - her passionate sincerity, perhaps, or her longing - finally came through, and the leader took a breath.
“Let’s get you inside then, and let’s hear it.”
“You’ve said who you are, Itsu-sama, but who is he?” Hinata asked before Akihiro’s mother could begin.
The leader’s name was Shizuka, and she was Minako’s great granddaughter, as Akihiro had surmised. She led them to the inner courtyard, and they all sat. Akihiro could hear and smell other people moving about, in this house and in the others nearby - including the boy and girl from earlier, ushered away when Akihiro and his mother had come in - but no other member of the family was called upon to participate in this small council: only the people who had been outside when Akihiro and his mother had arrived were present. They were probably the most important members of the family, the ones who made all the decisions. The elder, Minako, coming from the ‘sacred’ line; Shizuka, her descendant; and the other three women, and Hinata, were probably each of them the head of other branches.
If anything, Akihiro was mildly surprised that a man was in their midst; judging from his mother’s tales, he’d expected an exclusively matriarchal hierarchy.
The others were all focused on Akihiro’s mother, but Hinata was looking at Akihiro with barely disguised curiosity, and when he asked, Akihiro found himself the center of attention for the first time since his mother had revealed herself.
She laid a hand on Akihiro’s arm with a soft smile.
“This is my son,” she introduced him. “His name is Akihiro. But he comes late in my tale; will you allow me to explain what happened?”
They were mesmerized.
She dove into her tale of horrors headfirst, speaking plainly. She spared nothing; it was so different from her testimony to the Inhumans. She’d still been reeling then, hardly capable of making sense of the cruelty. But she was better now: she’d had time to confront her demons. Akihiro had never been prouder of anything in his life, watching her reclaim her life, mold her narrative. She wasn’t wracked by guilt anymore.
She told them of her life after she left, of the blood, the killings; how she’d realized she was becoming a monster but pride and shame had prevented her from coming back. She spoke of Jasmine Falls, and her cousin Minako nodded along and explained to the others that such a place had always been known to the ‘esteemed guardians of the mountain’; many a time their grandmother, the last shaman, had sent people there on a healing journey.
“I’m glad you recovered, you airhead,” she addressed Akihiro’s mother with a toothless grin, but that easy remark born from familiarity was only met with a pained grimace. Akihiro reached out to squeeze his mother’s hand, and the tale continued.
There, yes, his mother’s voice trembled, as she spoke of finding love, of marrying, of being with child… and of darkness and pain, of a lurid monstress taking her every memory, taking Akihiro, her own child from her, faking her death, taking her womb and turning her into a puppet, a weapon, her body modified so she’d age slowly. She glossed over the decades spent in Remus’ service, saying that that mind-wiped woman hadn’t been her and while she aimed to atone for the things she’d done, she didn’t wish to impose that heavy knowledge upon her family.
Finally she told them of being found and saved by the X-Men, and by her son. She squeezed Akihiro’s hand as she recounted that she had needed some months before coming to terms with what she’d been through, and that she’d then decided to go in search of her family, hoping to find someone.
“Now I’m home,” she concluded, a touch of shy uncertainty bleeding through, “and I hope… I hope you’ll have me.”
The group’s reaction was far different than the audience with the Inhumans. Their faces were a study in shocked revulsion, in deep empathy. They were horrified, feeling for her keenly, and not only because she was family. Time had changed their attitudes towards danger, turning them into a closely knit community trying to survive and save their legacy, but at their core they couldn’t dismiss the tenets that had guided the entire family for countless generations.
They were good people. They were helpers, caretakers. They’d stayed after the war, and even if they couldn’t offer shamanic services they still contributed to the well-being of the town. And now they even had a shaman, that Satoko, and were training her to resume that role. And they weren’t forcing the girl, of that he was sure. Akihiro and his mother would take her with them in an instant, if that turned out to be the case, but it wasn’t. These people were fundamentally good.
And this tale was far too much for a small community in the middle of nowhere, the scale of a magnitude far greater than anything they knew. Minako was the first to recover, jumping up and rushing to her cousin’s side, grabbing her hand.
“Of course you’re welcome,” she exclaimed. “Oh, Itsu! I’m so sorry you went through all that!”
Akihiro’s mother gracefully shrugged. “It’s over, and I’m just glad I’m free and I could return to my family.”
She exchanged with Akihiro a gaze full of love. Those months with her had been a blessing, but she’d always had that yearning below the surface, the need to see her people again. And what she’d found was far more than what she’d allowed herself to hope. Akihiro smiled encouragingly so that she could focus on her family again.
The rest of them had finally recovered from the shock, and Shizuka stood from her seat.
“Your tale is terrible, Itsu-sama.” She glanced at the others, but they were all nodding, the decision clear without needing to discuss anything. She bowed. “We’d be honored to have you back. And to help you heal, if ones such as ourselves can even do anything like that for you -”
“Just being here is enough,” Akihiro’s mother said, standing up too, and bowing. “And please, don’t speak so formally. We’re family. You can drop the honorific as well.”
She could have asked them to kill someone, such was the level of distress they exhibited at the simple request. Two of the other women were vigorously shaking their heads, and the third one, the one who’d seemed ready to fight earlier, bowed deeply and stayed there.
“Absolutely not!”
“Oh no, we could never -”
“We all grew up on tales of the shamans,” Hinata said, keeping at least some of his wits. “Of their incredible feats. You come straight out of legend, Itsu-sama.”
There was incredible reverence in his voice. Akihiro could share the sentiment, had even lived it at first upon seeing her, but his mother deserved to be treated as a living being, not as something untouchable. She deserved normalcy.
She chuckled, looking at her cousin, who at least called her airhead - and Akihiro would be delighted to know why. “Oh, Minako can tell you that I didn’t perform any feats. I was never the shaman; I left before I could.”
“But you’re fully trained,” Shizuka said. “You’re a real practitioner. It’s overwhelming, after not seeing the gift in anyone for so long.”
The implication here was that the girl Satoko was the first one to exhibit their power.
The Pherokinesis appeared only once in each generation. It could skip, but it would always reappear down the line. The line hadn’t died out, as shown by the fact that the power had reappeared in Satoko, who descended from Minako. How many generations had it skipped? Even taking into account that Akihiro had inherited the power, his mother had assumed that if the line didn’t die out it would appear in at least two generations.
She frowned, following the same reasoning of Akihiro. “The young woman I saw earlier is the first to inherit the gift after I left?”
The group started, but Shizuka recovered quickly. “Of course you noticed her. Yes, my daughter Satoko is the first to manifest the gift. We don’t know why it skipped so many generations, and so much knowledge has been lost in the meantime, but she certainly rose to the challenge.”
Even without hypersenses, it would be impossible not to notice the pride in her voice.
“I’ve been doing my best to train her,” Minako explained to Akihiro’s mother. “Going off on what grandma taught us. But it’s been so long, and there were things she only told you.”
“Of course.” His mother nodded, serious, and Akihiro knew what she’d say even before she did. And it was the only possible outcome, really; it was in her nature, and she was on a path. “I’ll be glad to teach her everything I know. And if anyone comes petitioning at the shrine again, I can fulfill the duties until Satoko is ready.”
The shock at her statement was genuine; they hadn’t even dared to think of asking, perhaps because they regarded every practitioner as such sacred figures.
There was a flurry of bowing, and platitudes, and reassurances that her stay didn’t hinge on such a condition; only Minako kept upright, grinning at her cousin with affection and approval. Akihiro’s mother grinned back and finally managed to rein the group in.
“Please, please. It would be my pleasure. It really would. I’m glad to be here, and I want to help. Let’s restore our ways together.”
God, Akihiro loved her so. His strong mother, set on her path. He was proud of her.
Shizuka finally conceded, visibly awestruck. “Thank you. And it goes without saying, you’ll have a place on our... we call it council, but it’s just to agree on decisions, but you’ll obviously take a place of honor, or… oh, but you’ll want to resume traditions and lead us...”
She flailed as Akihiro’s mother took her hands. The composed leader from earlier had turned into a mess at the prospect of having a fully-fledged shaman in their midst again. The complete absence of greed was staggering to Akihiro.
Being born here, living here, would have made him such a different man.
His mother smiled.
“Shizuka, dear, I’m just a family member, here to do my part. I’m not here to lead anyone; I’ll help, and if you all agree I’ll certainly be honored to sit on this council.” She glanced at the others, who hastened to nod. “But from what I can see, you’ve done an admirable job so far.”
“We rotate,” supplied Hinata when Shizuka just kept staring at her.
Akihiro’s mother beamed. “A commendable habit. Far better than the old way, don’t you think?”
A flurry of nods. They all loved her. She could have easily swept them all away, she could have reinstated a system that put all power in one person’s hands - an enlightened person, but still a single person - but she wasn’t like that.
“Now listen, I only ask one thing. Please treat me like anyone else in this family. Call me Itsu, or even auntie if you want.”
An awkward hesitation, then they capitulated. “Oh, all right -”
She grinned, the expression making her seem even younger.
And how young she must be feeling. How happy, how carefree, at seeing her family thrive. She met Akihiro’s eyes with a glint of mirth, of unadulterated joy. She’d feared the worst and was met with so many people; Akihiro was glad for her.
And seeing that they were genuine, that there was no malice in them, filled him with relief. Perhaps he would come to think of them all as family too.
She pulled him up and hugged him tight, pressing her smile to the skin of his neck, hiding her momentous happiness for a moment. He held her, happy for her.
The attention finally shifted to him again. His mother hadn’t covered his story, but fragments of truth could be glimpsed beneath the surface if one was perceptive, and they weren’t stupid. But they’d never ask, they’d never demand to know anything. Of that he was sure.
“So, um, cousin,” Hinata addressed him, and of course he would, fascinated with the close resemblance. Akihiro wondered how many degrees of separation were between them. “So you’re… How old are you?”
Akihiro smirked. “Seventy.”
His mother patted his back and ended the hug, turning to face the others, an arms still thrown around Akihiro’s waist. She wouldn’t want to miss the collective gasp. It was good to be able to instill some levity after the weighty matter of his mother’s tale.
Minako laughed heartily. Akihiro found that he quite liked his old cousin.
The woman who’d looked ready to fight grunted. “And you’re with the X-Men. So... your father was a mutant?”
She side-stepped admirably the question of whether he’d been ‘enhanced’ like his mother, but there was something in her tone, in her wording, that caught his attention.
“Yes. He’s a mutant, and I am as well. Don’t you consider your shamans mutants?”
His mother stiffened a bit, and sure enough, the figure was too highly revered to be considered just the result of a lottery in their genetic makeup. He ought to thread carefully, but they looked perplexed more than enraged.
One of the other women shook her head, the only one who seemed to get what he meant.
“The gift is… the gift,” she said reverently. “There’s a purposefulness to it; it’s nothing that can be explained away by science. Why would it manifest in only one person per generation if it was a mere matter of a gene being carried? If that were the case, almost everyone here would carry it and at least someone else would manifest it. The X-gene behaves differently than the gift. The shamans aren’t mutants: the gift is given by someone, according to rules we can’t comprehend.”
Her tone was fervent, but she’d put thought into this. She’d questioned. And yet she’d come away with this ridiculous belief. Did they all think that the power had been granted by some kami? Did his mother? She’d never said. The point made some sort of sense, but Akihiro wasn’t a geneticist; McCoy would probably be able to set the record straight.
“Rika’s a scientist,” Hinata said with a tone both affectionate and exasperated. “Say, Akihiro, are you going to stay too?”
They all looked incredibly interested in his answer, and welcoming. Had he had no one… had he been alone, no warmth, no love, no friends, only he and his mother, he’d have considered it.
But his life was elsewhere now.
“I have people waiting for me,” he said simply. How miraculous, still, that he could say something like that. He was grateful. “But I do have just found my mother. I’d like to stay for some time, and I’d want to come visit often.”
“Of course!” Minako exclaimed, taking his hand. She had a strong, warm grip. “You’re always welcome, my dear. We’ll find a place just for you and Itsu -”
“We have to give you two an used room for tonight,” interjected another woman, “but I’m sure we can shuffle the housing somewhat and give you a house -”
“Oh no!” his mother shook his head. “No, we don’t want to be a bother. I’m sure any place you give us will be fine. I don’t want for much.”
“Oh, we’ll see what we can find,” Shizuka said diplomatically, finally regaining enough of her footing. “For now, I suggest we celebrate your arrival!”
That prompted a bout of excited planning. Akihiro took advantage of the chaos and took his mother aside. She was glowing.
“The girl saw me,” he murmured. “We should tell them about me before it turns into some sort of welcoming feast; the more we wait, the more they might think we’re trying to hide it.”
She smiled softly. “Rest your heart, my Akihiro. There’s no malice in them.”
“I know, I just -” he stopped short, realization hitting him. He didn’t want to make a bad first impression. They were family and he had no plans, no goals. He wanted this to work. For his mother, and for himself, and he wanted it so much that he didn’t want to be a cause of friction.
She cupped his cheek, attuned to him far before he knew what was on his mind, and nodded. “Very well.”
She linked their arms, and they turned, and she called out to the group. Their excited relatives immediately stopped their planning, turning their full attention on them with such eagerness, such joy.
This day really was a mending.
“Before any celebrations, we must tell you something about Akihiro’s powers,” she said. She nudged him encouragingly.
“Oh yes!” the scientist, Rika, immediately jumped up, intrigued. “I want to know everything! What can you do?”
Akihiro took a breath and plunged on. “I have my father’s powers, which I can tell you about later, but the one thing you’ll want to know is that I also have the gift.”
He did as his mother had done to Kota at the shrine, making the air shimmer slightly around them. It was a soft usage, harmless, safe. Born of simple, kind people. If Romulus had found this place before, he would have torn the whole community apart.
Akihiro was glad he could shed the monster’s teachings, and embrace this instead.
His family gazed at him in wonder.
The revelation went better than Akihiro had expected.
They were shocked at first, digging into some old chronicles to ascertain that nothing like that had ever happened; and indeed, no man appeared to ever have manifested the gift.
Akihiro explained that even for mutants it was something of an outlier to inherit the powers of both of one’s parents, and he shared McCoy’s theory, but Rika took it as further confirmation that Pherokinesis - she disliked the scientific name, even though she appreciated the need for one as there existed people with that power with no familiar relation to them - had shown up in him for some unfathomable reason, not because of Logan’s magical gametes.
He was fairly skeptical, but in the end, it didn’t change anything for him if they were all happy thinking they were favored by a kami.
And really, it also meant that no one doubted the validity of Akihiro sharing something so sacred. It had never happened, but if it had, there must be a reason, and so no one was angry or upset. They were glad instead, and excited.
No one asked if he could help his mother with Satoko’s training, but as he was staying there he could hardly not put his two cents here and there, offering a different perspective, and that seemed to be taken well. What no one would ask and he thought no one would appreciate would be him trying to take the mantle of shaman, but there was no chance he’d do that, so it was all good.
Satoko took everything in with wide-eyed eagerness, happy to finally learn to use her power. Akihiro remembered the pain of not knowing how to control it, the terror of influencing other people, and was glad that he was given this opportunity now. It was, too, some training for him, for the next time a pheromone user would come to the school, as he’d promised Jean he’d help if that ever happened.
He and his mother also oversaw from time to time the group who trained in fighting, adding some moves to their repertoire. His status as a member of the X-Men intrigued them, especially when it came out that his father was the Wolverine. Satoko’s brother, Hoshi, a boy only a year older than her, was especially fascinated by the claws. He said that they’d probably come in handy with farming.
Akihiro didn’t help with the farming, but his mother didn’t share his compunctions; she loved to be out in the fields. She said that the physical labour reminded her starkly of her youth. Everything was very communal; at night there was always a big dinner with everyone, and then Akihiro and his mother would retire in Hinata’s house.
It turned out that the man wasn’t just a simple cousin, but rather the great grandson of a sister that Akihiro’s mother never knew she had, a sister born some time after she left and that had regrettably died only a few years before. His mother mourned the chance of knowing her, but Hinata was a mine of information and anecdotes, and he had insisted on being the one to accommodate them in his home. Akihiro and his mother shared a room at first, then Hinata managed to repurpose an area of the house for them.
She was already making it hers, adding knick-knacks from the markets in town and salvaged mementos from her family that many gave back to her.
Days passed, turning into weeks; it was easy there, simple. They were good people, nice to be around, and Akihiro loved being with his mother, seeing her in her element, seeing her thrive.
But there was a stillness too, that wasn’t for him. He was beginning to feel a nostalgia, an ache to get back to that wild hectic life he’d carved for himself in New York, to get back to his friends and his sisters. He even missed the school.
And he felt like he was neglecting Johnny. His partner insisted that he was fine, that Akihiro should just enjoy the vacation, that he’d earned it. They had long phone calls whenever they could, and it was on one of those phone calls that he told Johnny to go ahead and buy the apartment he’d found, the both of them fearful it would get snatched up by someone else. He put a veto on the interior design, though, since he had far better taste.
Johnny had laughed soundly, and he agreed. “We don’t want posters of cars all over the place.”
“Just on one or two walls,” Akihiro teased him.
Then he’d lapsed into silence, wishing Johnny was here, wishing they could hold each other, and Johnny had told him he loved him, and Akihiro had said the same, and they’d hung up, and God, he missed Johnny.
He missed waking up to Gabby excitedly knocking on his door to show him something, and Laura pulling her away to return some hours later, and the mock dates they’d go to, even with Bellona when the girl could be convinced, even the tea parties Gabby insisted on. He missed seeing Logan on the way somewhere and stopping to chat, slowly and painstakingly mending the wound between them. He missed rushing out to save people from robots or some such nonsense. He missed brunch with Lorna and picking McCoy’s brain and talking for hours with his students about poetry and about the innate otherness of being away from one’s roots. He missed everything that he had in New York. And he couldn’t take everyone and bring them to this remote town, so far removed from everything and everyone. And he didn’t even want to, because he wasn’t a farmer.
But his mother was here. They’d agreed that he’d leave eventually, but he couldn’t bring himself to. He’d be leaving her alone, amongst so many family members yes, people she’d yearned to find again, but he’d be leaving her again. He’d be removing himself from her.
Jean - ‘as your friend, I’m not your therapist anymore’ - urged him to speak with his mother about his abandonment issues that were coming back with a vengeance. Only honest conversation would pull him out of such a quagmire.
But she was flourishing, and he didn’t want to put a stop to her happiness. At night she would sit with him and tell him tales, or they’d talk about their day, and she was glowing, and it felt so good to see her happy, and he would always think that he’d tell her the next day, but then he never managed to.
Then one day she told him that she wanted to show him where she’d been born, that they’d make an outing of it. She gently declined any offer to guide them up the mountains, saying that this was a mother-son trip, and they set off one early morning.
The climb was steep, but they were fit. They lulled into a companionable silence, letting the sounds of the forest accompany them. They weren’t alone: predators trailed them, foxes and bears alike, but none dared attack them, identifying them as beings not to be trifled with thanks to a smidge of well-placed pheromones.
He didn’t share his parents’ love for the great outdoors; going on excursions shared too many similarities with Romulus’ lessons when he threw Akihiro against wildlife. But at the beginning of this journey he’d agreed on hiking up the mountains, wanting to shed those connotations, and now that they were finally doing it he knew that he’d been right to surmise that making such a trip with his mother helped in that regard.
Once they were on the Tottabetsu they didn’t make for the peak, but his mother led them up a slope until they reached a secluded little valley. There were no signs that a settlement had even been there; everything had been dismantled by the family, and nature had reclaimed the rest, covering any potential sign.
Only an old torii survived, the wood ancient and splintered, just two posts with no sign of either the rope or the tie-beam that should be between them. He only recognized it as that traditional gate typical of shinto shrines, leading from the mundane to the sacred, because his mother moved reverently around the two posts.
But she was more interested in walking around than in lingering on what he supposed was a sign of the shamanic activities once taking place there. She wandered aimlessly, breathing deeply, taking in what had become of the place where she’d been born. It was a wild tableau, with tall grass and blooming irises. He joined her when she stopped, her remote gaze regaining life as he approached her. She linked their arms with a smile.
“It’s peaceful here,” he ventured. He couldn’t fathom living there, day in and day out, for one’s entire existence.
She hummed, then sighed. “It’s isolated. I’m glad they moved to the town. We can do more good there.” She tapped his hand gently.
This was her path now. This was the way she’d chosen, and it was to be carved here. And Akihiro, he had… he had to let her go.
“Mother -” he choked out, a lump in his throat. “I think it’s time for me to get back to New York.”
“I know.”
He startled; she moved to stand in front of him, regarding him with a soft gaze, squeezing his hand.
“My dearest Akihiro,” she murmured. “You’ve been heartsick.”
He shook his head. “No, I’m glad I came here with you. It was good to meet everyone.”
“I’m sure it was.” She nodded. “And I saw that you liked them. And I’m glad of it. But I can’t pretend I don’t see that your life is calling you back. As it should be,” she added, holding him fast. “It’s only right. You have so many beautiful things to accomplish. I don’t want to hinder you, my son.” She smiled sheepishly, looking around. “I thought I’d give you -”
“... a gentle push?” he asked, feeling light-hearted.
She’d taken him here to let him work through the tumult simmering inside him, giving him space to voice his truth. She’d waited patiently for him to speak, knowing what lay inside him, but she’d also expedited the process a bit.
With a strangled laughter he embraced her, inhaling deeply her scent, committing it to memory.
“Oh, my dear Akihiro.” She wrapped her arms around him. “It’s not a goodbye. We’ll speak on the phone. And you’ll come visit, won’t you?”
“Of course I will.” He buried his face against her shoulder.
“And I’ll come visit too.” She held him tight. “We’ll see each other again, so many times.”
“I know.” It took a few tries to speak. “But it’s the first time we’ll be apart since you found me.”
“I know. It’s going to be strange, without you.” She stroked his back, humming softly. “But it’ll be all right.”
“Yeah.”
He didn’t trust his voice anymore, so he closed his eyes and memorized the feel of her and her scent and the rhythm of her heartbeat, calm, a lulling sound, the texture of her hair against his cheek. They’d tide him over until his life couldn’t distract him anymore from the ache and he’d come back here, for the cycle to begin again, forever torn between two halves.
Or perhaps he’d find an equilibrium. He didn’t want his heart to be split in two.
That was on his path too, finding a way to be whole.
Gradually he tuned into the rest of the world around them, the rustling grass and the cloying fragrance of the irises and the soft clicking sound of paws against terrain.
He opened his eyes to see an arctic fox at the torii, staring straight at them.
It was white as pure driven snow, a complete oddity at this latitude, and sat still at the exact center between the two wooden posts. Its head cocked, it stared curiously at them. Akihiro almost called upon his pheromones to push it away, but it seemed to have no intention of attacking them.
Its ears flicked. It cocked its head in the other direction and Akihiro felt as if something strange and entirely ancient was looking at him, and he didn’t dare to blink. His vision swam at the edges and for a split second he saw a fan of tails behind the fox, nine beautiful long tails shining at the tips, and its eyes were more alert, more aware than a mere animal, shining with intelligence and with infinite compassion. A benevolent being, Akihiro knew that with his every sense. He burst to the seams with the certainty that he was never going to be alone, that everything would truly and forever be all right.
The white was too blinding. He closed his eyes until there were no colors dancing on his eyelids anymore and when he opened them again the fox was gone, only the grass gently rustling between the posts. It had been just a trick of the light: just a scuttling fox; just the old remnants of what had once been part of the guardians’ practices.
No white nine-tailed fox, straight from the depictions of the benevolent type of kitsune known as tenko, waiting at a sacred gateway between this world and the world of spirits. No such things existed.
Just a trick of the light.
His mother stirred in his arms. “What is it?”
“Nothing,” Akihiro said, shaking his head to clear his thoughts. Just a trick of the light. “Let’s head back.”
He had people to return to.
It was time for him to go home.
Notes:
Comments are always welcome! Do tell me your thoughts ^-^
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