Chapter #23 “Logan’s Run, pt. 4”
Wednesday, August 11th, 2004
Medical Ward, Undisclosed Military Facility
Saline dripped quietly over his head in the darkened private room. The machines monitoring his vitals were steady, a contradiction to the pathetic physical state he appeared to be in, wrapped in bandages heavily around his chest & waist.
The eerie silence should’ve allowed him to get much needed rest, but sleep was the last thing on his mind, as his bruised fingers still gripped a cell phone tightly against the sheets, concealing it quite well. He’d almost been caught making a phone call, but considering the circumstances, knew it was worth the risk.
---
*Several Hours Earlier*
“…yeah, I know; if He knew I was callin’ ya, I’m sure it’d make him pissed enough, maybe he’d try to finish the job.”
The voice on the other end of his cell phone hesitated at the sarcastic ‘half-joke’, before a feminine voice responded, “I’m sorry about what happened, and don’t take this the wrong way, but”“
“You’re wondering why I called you, of all people? Well, I kinda need a favor; it’s for Him, and honestly, I don’t know anyone else that could get this done for me. The assholes around here”pardon my language, ma’am”don’t seem overly concerned about Him anymore, after what happened yesterday.”
“Do you really blame them?”
“Hell, I blame a lot of people…but that’s semantics. Can you get here, today?”
“I’m not sure about this…”
“Please, ma’am? He really needs yer help. I’d try to do it myself, but they got me on a tight lockdown till the Review Board inquiry at the end of this week. I’m not sure he’s gonna last that long.”
“…what are you saying? Do you think he’d try to hurt himself?”
“If anyone would know how to, He would, wouldn’t he?”
Before she could answer, he heard a fist hit against the heavy door of his room, and the phone clamped shut, to be buried beneath the sheet. The door opened to the face of Chris Maverick, dressed in his officer’s uniform, hat tucked tightly beneath his right arm.
“Soldier.”
The man in the bed raised hooded, distrustful eyes to his superior, shifting in the bed, which turned into a painful decision. Grumbling, he answered, “Captain. Pardon me if I don’t salute, sir.”
Maverick didn’t like the tone in the younger man’s voice at all, but he decided to let it slide as he came up to the side of the bed. Looking down at the wounded Agent, he didn’t quite meet eye contact, his eyes roving along the injuries to the machines and then away, around the undecorated room. “Whatever. I didn’t come here to visit, Private.”
“Then what are you doing here?”
“Watch your tone, kid. I’m not the one that put you here.”
“Aren’t you? You and Gen. Ackens thought you were so damned smart; one last ‘test’ to see if The Wolverine was really as field-ready as he claimed to be? You just wanted to prove Ackens & The Col. wrong; I hope 6 dead and 3 wounded was worth it.”
Maverick’s eyes grew hard at the way the Private was talking to him, but he knew deep down the young man’s words were true; He’d lost the best team he’d ever been able to draw together, and even though he’d been proven right, even Maverick had to admit to himself it had been a heavy price to pay.
Sighing loudly, he looked back down at the man in the hospital bed, all business. “Well, that’s for the review board to determine, isn’t it? I didn’t come here to re-hash the pending investigation on your former commanding officer. I just came by to see how you were progressing…and to tell you as soon as you’re released, you’ll be reporting to me, from now on.”
A dark brown eyebrow shot up to the top of his forehead as the young mutant stared with open animosity at Maverick, who was already turning to leave. “What??!”
“You heard what I said. Howlett’s all but done for, and we’ve still got a mission to train for.”
“Son of a”“
“If you got a problem with that…” Maverick’s voice rose over the Private’s words, stopping the swear from completely coming out, “I suggest you take it up with Ackens; he’s the one that made that decision.”
The hospital door swung closed behind Maverick to the sound of renewed swearing as the injured Section X agent let his head drop against the pillows behind him. Things had gone from bad to down right FUCK’D…
---
Distracted from his thoughts, the Private looked up, a little startled when the door to his room opened quietly and a slim woman stepped in, dressed in scrubs & a white lab coat. Her bright eyes grew wide when she saw him laying there, but she came to the bedside quickly. “I’m sorry it’s taken so long; I haven’t done this sort of thing in a while. I had to practice all morning to make sure I could keep this up.”
He paused, then when he met her green eyes, sighed. Even her voice had been different, so he hadn’t recognized her at all, disguised in the body of a middle-aged doctor with salt-and-peppered hair. “Wow…sorry, for a sec I was caught off guard. Thanks for agreeing to come, Dr. Grey.”
She stopped at the bedside and reached down, taking his hand to squeeze it momentarily. “You’re welcome, Ben. Now, how can I help?”
---
The Next Day, back in Southampton
4:34p.m.
The Xavier Estate…
She’d found the house pretty deserted upon her return, no one there except the house employees. The reunion guests apparently had all gone back to their normal lives, including her sisters, who’d tried more than once to contact her over the several days she’d disappeared. She had just returned Marie’s & Beth’s voicemails the night before, apologizing for worrying them, letting each one know she was all right. That had been the extent of their conversations, as Ororo was too emotionally drained to get into her whereabouts for the past days.
“Missus? Can I get you something to eat?”
Looking up, Ororo smiled gently at Mrs. Duvahl but shook her head. “No thanks; I’m just here to collect the rest of my things.”
“Well all right, dear. Let me know if you change your mind.”
Ororo nodded, then as an afterthought called after her, “Mrs. Duvahl?”
The older woman turned, a questioning look on her face.
It was on her lips to ask about her father & Erik, who she knew from the news were both firmly entrenched in diplomatic negotiations in Genosha, but something held her back. Pride? Shame?
Both?
“Nevermind. I…I’ll be upstairs gathering my things.”
Once there, she took her time, packing up her remaining items that she’d been in too much of a rush to take a few days prior. Her thoughts kept drifting back to the last time she was here; how happy she’d been, how content…and foolish.
‘Wait now, none of that was your fault.’ She reminded herself, zipping up the suitcases, cringing at the memory of herself and Logan outside on the beach as he tried in vain to explain himself. ‘Well, maybe if you’d asked more questions…you did let Him get away with a lot of secretive bull shit…’
Shaking her head, Ororo dismissed the self-pity as quickly as it crept into her mind; there was nothing she could do about the demise of her relationship w/ Logan at this point. What was done was”unfortunately”done.
“Excuse me, Missus?”
Ororo turned to see Mrs. Duvahl standing in her doorway, a little more timid than she’d ever seen the woman in all her life. “Yes? Is something wrong?”
Before answering, the woman stepped into the room, almost as if she were afraid of disturbing Ororo’s thoughts, and reached into her dress-pocket to retrieve a folded piece of paper. Handing it to Ororo she answered, “I’m sorry, I almost forgot: there was a message left for you yesterday…”
Ororo’s eyes spoke of her intrigue, but she accepted the note anyway, opening it immediately. As she read, she heard Mrs. Duvahl murmur,
“…It’s from your Dad.”
---
Hammer Bay, Genosha
Two Days ago, August 10th…
He really wished sometimes that he’d never left teaching.
Sitting in the dark shadows of the Embassy suite behind drawn curtains covering bulletproof glass, Charles tried”for the fourth time”to write a quick letter to his daughter, who had been on his mind since leaving the States. He was trying to get it done in time to have it over-night delivered, but time was running against him.
Unfortunately, with the noise of the protesting crowd outside the Embassy’s gates, he wasn’t able to do much that required peace & quiet. He’d had to put himself in a near trance just to finish his speech to the Genoshan Parliament, which he was due to deliver in the next 90mins.
Looking down at the stationary again, Charles was reminded of classes at his Institute, getting the whole thing started while still on the U.S. gov’t payroll and trying to raise his children. To say things had been hard was an understatement. Despite the memory, he smiled, thinking of his good friend”best friend”Erik, who’d been there the whole time, helping him with homework assignments, school projects, squabbling siblings and when it was time for “The Talks”.
As the angry chants outside broke his concentration again, he shook his head in some wry humor, firmly believing that he’d give just about anything right then to go back those years to his first awkward sex talk w/ Ororo, rather than face the disillusioned mutants outside the Embassy.
“Charles? Are you ready?”
Startled, the Ambassador looked up to the face of his friend as Erik stood in the doorway. Sighing, Charles glanced down at the stationary where he’d only been able to write a greeting. “Not by a long shot.”
Lehnsherr came up to him, looking over his shoulder. Moving his eyes to Charles, he asked quietly, “Writing to Ororo? I didn’t know she’d returned any of your calls.”
“She hasn’t.”
Erik paused at the tightness in Charles’ voice, and they were quiet for several seconds, only the sounds of the pissed-off mob breaking the silence in the room. After another few moments, Erik squeezed his friend’s shoulder, and turned to walk away. “I’ll be waiting downstairs.”
Once he was alone again, Xavier picked the pen up again, and closed his eyes, concentrating deeply. It only took but mere seconds before he lowered his head, and quickly began to scrawl on the stationery’s empty space…
---
Thursday, August 12th
The Howlett Estate
11:35 p.m. EST
After almost 2 days straight of psyche evals, he’d been released w/ a ‘watch’ under his own recognizance, against the better objections of Dr. Gonzalez, who’d taken most of the blame for his…accident in the DR training session.
Considering his own role in the events (and probably more than just a little guilt), Gen. Ackens had pushed for Logan’s release, with the condition that wherever Wolverine went, he be monitored 24/7 via satellite. Logan had not been especially happy w/ that condition, but considering the alternative, he accepted it & kept his mouth shut, retreating to his summer home where he now felt trapped to the point of being under house arrest.
Logan still didn’t understand why Jason had agreed to the twisted plan Maverick had outlined, and now he just didn’t care. The fact that a man he considered a friend could even do something like that clouded Logan’s beliefs about exactly what he was really doing w/ his life. He was questioning everything at this point, not the least of which was why him?
Worn out places, Worn out faces
Bright and early for the daily races
Going nowhere, Going nowhere
Their tears are filling up their glasses
No expression, No expression
Hide my head I want to drown my sorrows
No tomorrow, No tomorrow
And I find it kind of funny, I find it kind of sad
The dreams in which i'm dying, Are the best I've ever had
I find it hard to tell you, I find it hard to take
When people run in circles its a very very
Mad World, Mad World…”
Almost as if in answer, the air before him fluctuated, and a figure appeared before him, small and fragile, with cloudy white hair and pained blue eyes.
Laying on his side in the middle of the large living room floor, surrounded by trash & debris from his tantrum almost 2 weeks before, Logan blinked at the girl’s tattered clothes, her dirt-smudged cheeks and uncombed hair. She stared back at him, with this sort of disappointed, sad & hopeless expression.
Closing his eyes to her, he sighed w/ a shudder, admitting inwardly that he shouldn’t be surprised at his present problems. Half of what was wrong w/ his life now seemed to stem from that day 25 yrs ago…
Happy Birthday, Happy Birthday
And they feel the way that every child should
Sit and listen, Sit and listen
Went to school and I was very nervous
No one knew me, No one knew me
Hello teacher tell me what’s my lesson
Look right through me, Look right through me”
His heart ached w/ guilt at the man he tried to leave back in Africa; it broke, thinking about the one he buried with Amahra.
“Daddy?”
His eyes snapped open and he saw his daughter standing in the exact place the other little girl had been. Cloudy white unkempt hair had transformed into short dark red curls; deeply tanned brown skin was blown to a pale pink”sick (was that how he was always to remember her?)”and pale blue eyes shifted to an even paler grey.
One shaky, calloused hand reached out to touch her, but Logan was too far away, and for some reason he couldn’t seem to stand or even move to sit up. Surprisingly, the space beside her shifted as well, and his eyes widened when he saw a ‘copy’ of himself materialize beside his daughter, looking down at Amahra with a smile he hadn’t seen in the mirror in much too long.
The two specters interacted as though they didn’t know Wolverine was there, as the other Logan reached down and swung the girl up into his arms, blowing a raspberry on her gaunt little cheek. Despite the tired look deep around her eyes, Amahra laughed in that impish, carefree way that children do, throwing her arms out to do her best bear hug. The embrace fell just short of actually touching the transparent image of Logan, however, and she disappeared from his arms.
While the standing image of Howlett seemed perplexed, the slightly shaking form on the living room floor knew exactly what had happened. His bleary eyes jerked to the wavering image behind his ‘twin’, where the hospital bed had emerged. ‘God dammit…Just stop it. Son of a bitch, just…!’
He tried to get his eyes to close, his face to turn away, but something told Logan that even if he’d managed to move his body again, if he closed his eyes, he’d still have to ‘see’ it. It was in his mind, after all…
As the image of Logan turned around himself, looking for his missing child, he was joined by a collage of disturbing images, all memories from Wolverine’s or Logan’s pasts”depending on which ‘version’ of the man had experienced them. A camouflaged Wolverine covered in the blood of his prey stared with a cold malice at the grieving father Logan, who called out in an unheard voice for a daughter that had left him. Behind the two men, landscapes collided; images of a jungle, the cold, snow-covered forest in Alberta, the beach of the summer home, a hot desert in Africa…
The room around him began to spin, the images before his mind’s eye swirling like bathwater down a drain. Unable to control the violent shaking of his body, Logan curled up on the floor, his eyes bloodshot and staring into the void.
---
Friday, August 13th, 2004
The Xavier Estate
8:23 a.m.
Slowly, Ororo came down the stairs, carrying two cases across her shoulder. She’d decided to spend the night there, probably for the last time, just for old-time’s sake. The short but tender note she’d received from her dad had a lot to do w/ the decision, and even now, thinking about it made the sides of her mouth quirk up in an uncontrollable smile. The Embassy-embossed stationary was carefully folded in her jeans pocket, where she knew she’d probably read it again as she made her way back to the mainland this morning.
“Heading out, Missus?”
She was just coming to the bottom of the staircase as Mrs. Duvahl met her, and Ororo smiled, eagerly reaching out to hug the older woman, who’d been as close to a maternal influence in her life as anyone. “Yes ma’am. Will you and the staff be okay here?”
The older woman waved away her concern. “Just like every other time your Father leaves us for a spell, I’d say. Besides, there’s plenty of cleaning left to this place. Some of our guests aren’t as tidy as you & yer sisters, if ya don’t mind my saying.”
Ororo hid a smirk behind her fingers briefly. “I can probably guess which ones. I’ll be sure to contact them and remind them this is still a home, not some hotel they can trash.”
Mrs. Duvahl nodded tersely, but Ororo could tell her heart wasn’t really into it, and after a moment she tittered a little as well, squeezing Ororo tightly. “Good then, sweetheart. Well…all right then, be off with you. Don’t want to miss your ferry. Martin’s out front waiting.”
She walked Ororo toward the door, gripping the younger woman’s hand securely. Ororo suddenly felt like she was leaving some task undone, something unsaid. Glancing behind them as Mrs. Duvahl stopped near the front door, she murmured, “I think, I’m really going to miss this place.”
The statement took the older woman by surprise, and she didn’t immediately reply to the finality in Ororo’s tone. Squeezing her shoulder, the unofficial Lady of the Manor opened the door for her favorite daughter. “You’ll be back, dear.”
Ororo appreciated the firm tone in her voice, but didn’t respond again, leaning in to peck the older woman’s cheek before whispering her goodbye, closing the heavy mahogany door after her.
Turning back to the bright morning sun, she quickly snapped on her dark sunglasses, and looked down the winding drive to the waiting limo. Only seconds later Martin opened his door, coming around to the side closest to her as she made her way down. Ororo smiled at his cool, pleasant face, but then her expression faltered ever so briefly, when she caught sight of the figure coming up the drive behind him.
Clear blue eyes shifted farther down the winding driveway to the narrow street, where a dark blue convertible was parked. She was sure the look on her face said it all, as Ororo tried to place the young, beautiful woman making her way up toward them. She didn’t look lost, she didn’t appear to be some local reporter perhaps seeking a statement about the Ambassador…so who was she?
The two women came to a stop about ten feet from each other; Ororo was closest to the car, as Martin reached to take her bags. Never taking her eyes from the other woman, she tried to give a smile, though it was tinted with curiosity & just a little wariness. “Uhm…hello? Can I help you?”
The striking woman held Ororo’s gaze for a pause, then reached up to tuck a loose strand of bright red hair behind her ear, almost in a nervous gesture. With a smile that was meant to reassure both of them, she lifted her other hand out in greeting.
“O-Ororo, I take it?”
The other woman’s snowy eyebrow rose momentarily, beginning to get uncomfortable with the disadvantage the stranger had in knowing her name. “Yes. And you are..?”
“Dr. Grey. Dr. Jean Grey.”
They shook hands quickly, and Ororo was momentarily distracted by Martin, as he quietly told her everything was ready when she was. Nodding to him, she indicated they’d be on their way in a minute, and then turned back to Jean. “Doctor. I’m sorry, do we know each other?”
“No, no…but we have a mutual…friend. Uh, is there somewhere we can talk for a moment?”
Ororo’s interest was piqued, and she looked around them for a second before gesturing to the back of the limo. “Martin, do you mind?”
Surprised she would ask, the chauffer shook his head negatively, reaching for the door handle & helping each woman in, out of the sun. “Take as long as you need, ma’am.”
Once inside, Jean sat across from Ororo, watching with more than a little interest as the other woman settled into the cushy leather, removing her sunglasses and letting down the windows on either side of them. The warm air that’d blown about before was replaced with a cooler breeze almost instantly with just the barest flicker of white in Ororo’s eyes, and Jean nodded to herself; if there’d been any doubt before that she had the right woman, it was erased fully now.
“I’m glad I came when I did; I almost missed you.”
Ororo leaned back against the seat, now openly evaluating the woman. There was something sort of familiar about her now, but she couldn’t quite put her finger on it. “Yeah, I’m on my way back to the mainland. What can I do for you, Doctor? You said we have a “mutual friend”, I believe is the term you used.”
Jean’s bright green eyes sparkled as she smiled warmly; they dropped momentarily to some indiscernible spot before she dodged, “Ben was right; I knew it had to be you from a mile away. You’re quite stunning, if you don’t mind my saying.”
Puzzled, Ororo replied, “ ‘Ben’..? Ben, where have I heard that name bef--? Wait…”
Jean leaned forward in the seat, her hands clasped tightly as she held Ororo’s gaze. “I’m sorry to come to you like this unannounced, but we”Ben & I”seem to be out of options, and I don’t think there’s much time left before He does something rash….(well, more so than He’s already done).”
“Wait, wait, who are we talking about? Is this Ben in trouble? I mean, I’ve don’t think I’ve ever met”“
“Not Ben. Logan.”
Whatever she’d been about to say was lost on the wind, as Ororo went completely still. She kept looking at Jean as if she’d said the absolute wrong thing, and as the telepath couldn’t help but receive the flurry of emotions from her, began to understand.
“You’re The Ex, aren’t you.”
“Yes.”
---
At That Moment, in Genosha…
3:23pm Genoshan Standard Time
The dozens of rows of stadium seating in the parliament hall had all been filled with delegates from across the globe, as everyone in the world seemed to have his or her own say in the debate raging on the small island nation.
They had gone on for hours, each one standing before the house with an idea on how to solve Genosha’s ‘problem’, or with an opinion on whose fault it was or a hastily-rushed amendment ready to lay down who was to pay for a solution no one could even agree upon yet.
Later, as they silently rode the elevator back up to the private rooms they shared adjoining each other, Erik & Charles could feel the tension and weariness weighing heavily on each other. After so many days, it was no secret the Ambassador felt as if they were spinning wheels, going nowhere.
*You know, I’d blessedly forgotten how utterly pointless the first few weeks of any negotiation often are.*
Erik barely stifled his laugh upon hearing Charles’ words echo in his head. They weren’t alone in the elevator, being ‘guarded’ by U.N. peacekeeping soldiers, and considering how easily other sensitive info on the talks had been leaked to the world press, decided that internal dialogue would be best when not alone.
*Missing the good ol’ days?* Erik teased, glancing down at Charles.
*Hardly.* Charles gripped his chair’s wheels as the lift slowed to stop at their rooms’ floor. When the doors opened, the first two guards immediately stepped in front of him, almost knocking him out of his chair; Charles routinely forgot their duty there, unaccustomed to having to watch out for his life 24 hrs a day. Sighing, he waved away Capt. Ward’s unspoken concern, indicating he just wanted to get going.
The Peacekeepers slowly moved down the hall, their S.H.I.E.L.D.-issued weaponry at the ready as they checked out the hallway, ready for any surprises on the way to Xavier’s & Erik’s rooms.
Once everything was checked as secure, Charles dismissed the men, who he knew were going to be no farther away than shouting distance outside the doors, as he and Erik took a mid-day rest between Parliament sessions.
“How are you doing so far?”
Charles grimaced as he rubbed the tense space between his eyebrows; nothing ever escaped Erik’s attention, it seemed. “Just a little tired, that’s all. I have a headache. Nothing serious.”
If Xavier had been looking up he’d have caught the dubious expression Erik passed his way, but that didn’t matter; the brief pause of silence in its place told him enough. It stretched as Lehnsherr got up & went to the kitchen, where they’d brought pre-prepared meals from home (they couldn’t be too careful). He set one of the plastic meal containers in the microwave, concentrating hard so his powers of magnetism wouldn’t interfere w/ the appliance as he set a short cook time. “It’s probably a good idea to get a snack before we go back.”
“I’m not hungry.”
“Charles…”
“Erik.”
His friend looked over at him with a mix of humor and exasperation, and Charles met it with stubborn determination. The round-and-round with them was nothing new, and deep down even through the vexation both friends knew there’d come a point when they’d miss these moments.
The microwave beeped several times, but neither man moved, simply looking at each other. After another moment, Erik got up, heading to the kitchen. Behind him he heard, “I’ll get the wine.”
Smiling, he responded, “I’ll get the plates.”
---
Back in NY…
9:05am EST
Ororo sat across from Jean at the delicate café table, not much more comfortable now than she had been upon first meeting Logan’s ex-wife. Her expression was carefully neutral but her posture was severely guarded, arms as well as legs crossed tightly. She’d been a bit surprised that Jean had admitted her telepathic abilities, but made no bones about immediately raising her own psi-shields.
“Where’d you learn how to do that, if I may ask?” Jean’s tone was mostly intrigued, with only a hint of discomfort at the fact that the other woman felt the need to do so.
Without hesitating, Ororo responded, “My father. His abilities are quite formidable,” she studiously kept her recent memories attesting to that fact deeply hidden, “and since he adopted me it’s been part of my training.”
The other woman’s brow went up a little higher. “Sounds as if that ‘training’ wasn’t entirely welcomed.”
“Trying to read me?”
Jean put her hands up in an open way, trying to defuse Ororo’s immediate tenseness. “Of course not, I mean, not like that. Your ‘shields’ are actually quite good”much better than I’ve ever run into”besides the fact that I’m a psychiatrist. It’s my job to ‘read’ people.”
Ororo only sipped her Espresso as an answer, inwardly realizing how uncomfortable Logan must’ve been at times, married to a woman who not only could read his thoughts but probably used the talent on a daily basis in her profession. She could understand how hard it may be to ‘turn off’ that instinct.
Now it was beginning to make some sense; Logan’s unwillingness to discuss this ‘Jean’ said a lot to her in light of realizing the woman’s powers. Ororo realized that until just recently, she’d never had to worry much about that sort of intrusion. She’d always trusted Beth and her father implicitly, to leave her thoughts her own…
Snapping out of that train of thought, Ororo blinked a couple times, realizing Jean had begun speaking again.
“But I’m not here to make you uncomfortable, Ororo. I promise I won’t try to go where I don’t belong if you’ll do something for me.”
“And that would be?”
“Tell me about You…and Logan.”
The shock on Ororo’s face spoke volumes to Jean, who didn’t immediately move to explain her query, instead judging the other woman’s response.
“E-Excuse me?”
“…Ben Campbell wasn’t able to give me much information about you, other than your name, where I may find you, and that Logan hasn’t been the same since he met you.”
Ororo’s lip did something funny, not exactly a frown, not really a smirk, as she flippantly responded, “Well, neither have I.”
“I knew there was something different about him.” Jean almost said to herself, stirring her coffee absently.
“Oh? You’ve seen Logan recently?” Ororo couldn’t help but ask, as casually as she could.
“Not really. It’s been some weeks.” Jean admitted, meeting her gaze. “But when I saw him, it was like going back in time. I hadn’t seen Logan smile like that since…since…”
Ororo remained quiet, curious now at the slight falter of Jean’s words, the flush in her cheeks and the look of pain that flashed past her face for the briefest moment. Like a puzzle piece, the image of the picture in Logan’s hallway fit perfectly before Ororo’s mind’s eye, and she took a sharp breath in. “There was a child. There was a child, wasn’t there?”
Unable to speak initially, Jean simply nodded, unbothered with how Ororo knew that information in light of her own pain. Swallowing hard, she tried to smile a little, tried to think of the good times she’d had with her family, now nothing more than memories. “Yes. Yes, there was. Her name was Amahra, and today is the anniversary of her death.”
---
Section X Headquarters (undisclosed location)
Some time that same day…
The 2 dozen or so military & government personnel sat rigidly in the darkened room, each pair of eyes hard and trained on the digital image projected on the silk screen before them. As the wild and dangerous image of Wolverine began to rip apart his team, only one pair of eyes looked away; only his, because he’d been there, and didn’t need the DR recording to remind him of what had transpired that day.
Shifting in his seat as the only sign of discomfort, Ben focused instead on the faces of the Tribunal Review Board, the other ‘Big Wigs’ from Section X, Maverick, Nina (the only other survivor able to make it, as Mystique was still laid up in the infirmary, unconscious), and finally General Ackens, who’d refused to sit, standing at the back of the small theatre-sized room, his large arms crossed over his chest & expression cold as a January morning in Chicago. Ben wondered what each of them was thinking, as the amplified screams and the sounds of flesh tearing were reproduced quiet magnificently over the 5.1 surround sound system.
As Wolverine finally turned to his last victim”Ben”blood dripping from his claws, a feral ness in his eyes matched nowhere else, one of the Tribunal members reached for the remote to the DLP projector, and was lucky enough to pause it just as Logan grabbed Ben by the neck, rearing back with his other arm to strike.
The single female Tribunal Chief glanced at her two comrades before raising her bifocal gaze to Chris (Maverick) Nord, who sat in the first row of spectators. “I have to say Captain, I’m surprised you still had the presence of mind to keep the data recorder going, as your team was being slaughtered below you.”
The icy tone in her voice was lost to no one, least of which Maverick, who straightened immediately in his chair. “General, at the time of Wolverine’s attack on our agents, I was as surprised as anyone else, but I knew that the incident would have to be documented if we were to discover what went wrong.”
“And is that why you didn’t leave the Observation deck to assist your agents?” one of the other Chiefs spoke up.
“Exactly, sir.”
The female Gen. wasn’t going to let Maverick get away with that, though. “I’m sorry, Capt. wasn’t your superior officer there observing this carnage with you? General Ackens?”
Jason Ackens didn’t move from the back of the room as his sharp gaze fixed on the Tribunal Chief. They were of the same rank, but the woman had 4 ½ yrs Seniority over him, and as a Tribunal Chief, even Jason Ackens had to answer to her. “I was present, General, that’s right.”
“So why didn’t you instruct Capt. Nord to assist his agents & force Wolverine to stand down?” The 3rd Chief finally spoke up, sensing where his female counterpart was going w/ her line of questioning.
Ackens’ gaze didn’t falter a bit as he answered, “So we could add another body to the count?”
“General.” The female Chief warned him. “I understand how difficult it must be to stand there & re-live the disaster of that day, with more than half of your best agents either dead or severely wounded, but we have a job to do here, and quite frankly I’m having issues with your lack of responsiveness”both today as well as on the day in question.”
Narrowing his eyes, Ackens responded calmly, “Yer damn right it’s difficult, General. But I don’t think you people quite understand something. Just what do you think Maverick or I were gonna be able to do? We’re talkin’ about the most dangerous agent”no, the most dangerous mutant”on earth, who just happened to ‘snap’ and take out 9 people. And you seriously think adding two more would’ve made a difference?”
“You’ll correct your tone, General.” She said between tight teeth. “If you and Maverick were ill-equipped to take on Wolverine, then just what sort of precautions does Section X have in place for eventualities like this?”
There it was, Ben thought, waiting for the response like everyone else. He’d had a similar thought, as he’d lain there in a widening pool of his own blood. Why had none of the safeties kicked in when the Colonel had gone ‘berserk’?
“There are fail-safes.” Was all Ackens admitted, his gaze flittering to Maverick for the briefest second.
“And?”
“They mal-functioned, Sirs.” Maverick spoke up then, his tone even, as if that were all the explanation needed.
“Excuse me?” One of the male Chiefs leaned over the high, expensive wooden table, pointing at Chris. “They ‘mal-functioned’?? And what about the back-ups for the back-up? Did they “mal-function” too??”
“There appeared to be a system crash just as Wolverine began to attack.” Chris explained. “I couldn’t stop the program, nor could I override any of the controls at that point. It wasn’t until after Agent Campbell was attacked that the system came back up & we could deploy the Weapon X fail-safes manually.”
“And that’s what finally stopped Wolverine.” The Chief concluded.
“That’s correct, Sir.” Maverick answered.
Shadowed in the gallery, Domino rolled her eyes, holding her broken arm still in its sling close to her chest. Her other injuries weren’t healing as well as Ben’s, as she was hurt much more than the healing young mutant. Rigidly sitting in a motorized wheelchair, she’d decided she wasn’t going to miss this Tribunal for anything, however. Nor did she believe a friggin’ word out of Chris Maverick’s lips.
“Do you have diagnostics from the DR’s A.I. compliance team to verify that?” The female Chief spoke up.
“They’ll be done w/in the hour, General. The diagnostic team will have their report ready for review as soon as possible.” Ackens said confidently.
The female Chief nodded, eyeing Maverick & Ackens separately. After a short & private conference w/ her two jury members, she reached for the gavel at her right and before smacking the wooden disk before her, “Gentlemen, ladies, we’re inclined to recess these proceedings until each Tribunal member has had a chance to review the findings of the Diagnostic team. We’ll be adjourned for the day and reconvene at 0800hrs tomorrow. Dismissed!”
The sharp rapping of the gavel echoed in the room, and the gallery members stood, waiting for the judges to leave before turning to each other. Domino rolled up behind Ben, touching his elbow to get his attention. “How do you like that?”
Ben turned to her, catching Ackens’ eye for a second before focusing on Nina again, murmuring, “Actually, this is good news.”
“How do you figure? It looks like Maverick & Ackens are gonna get away with it.”
“Not necessarily.” Ben countered, “we’ll wait & see what the DT comes up with. I don’t care what kinda story those two are spinning; I know the truth: the Col. wouldn’t have gone ballistic if it hadn’t been for that stunt Mystique helped them pull, and they didn’t do shit out there to help us once it started. It was almost like we were fuckin’ guinea pigs or something. That ain’t what I signed on for.”
Domino nodded in agreement, her sharp blue eyes fixing on Maverick’s back as he stood before the General, the two men conversing tensely. “Hell no. But I’m confused, Ben; why isn’t the Col. here to testify?”
Ben shook his head, “I don’t know. It’s damned irregular, though. The Colonel Howlett I know wouldn’t let the likes of Chris Maverick have a hand in ending his career like this. I was trying to get through to him, but I’m not sure it worked.”
“What do you mean?”
For a moment Ben hesitated, but then touched Nina’s arm, and led her out of the theatre, glancing behind them to make sure they weren’t to be overheard. “Col. Howlett’s in a real bad way right now, and Maverick”and the Gen.”knew something like this was gonna happen. They had to. They pushed him over the edge with that “dead daughter” bullshit, and now he’s so fucked up, I bet their hoping he isn’t gonna give two rats’ asses to this hearing. Like I said, though; I’m working on getting him some help, I just hope it isn’t too late.”
---
Back in Southampton…
Ororo looked at Jean with open skepticism in her eyes as the Doc held out her thin, manicured hands across the table. She couldn’t believe what this woman was asking her to do, and considering the recent experience w/ her father, Ororo was vehemently shaking her head.
“I…I’m sorry, I can’t do this.”
“It’s alright. You’ll only ‘see’ It from my point of view; I can shield you from the emotional tag-along, so you won’t have to feel what we felt, but I think this is the best way to explain what happened.”
Still, Ororo shook her head, watching Jean’s hands as they lay there on the table palms open, waiting and beckoning her to take the leap of faith. It was true she still wanted to understand what had happened to Logan that had pushed him so far deep into his present state of morose, but the sting and pain of Charles Xavier’s deception still burned quite brightly for her. She didn’t know if she could trust any telepaths, let alone one she just met that morning. “No, no…It’s no offense to you, Doctor Grey. I’ve simply been through quite a bit in the last few weeks. Telepathic contact isn’t something I’m ready for just yet.”
Jean’s eyes searched hers and after a couple seconds she reluctantly withdrew her hands, nodding. It was a risky gamble, but one she had to make; as the day wore on she had the feeling Logan was getting closer to the edge, and she wouldn’t be able to bear it if something happened to him…or if he hurt someone else. “I understand.”
“Please,” Ororo reached out to lightly touch her arm, “please tell me what happened.”
Jean nodded, swallowing hard as she took a deep breath. “Okay. But once I do, I hope you understand why I’ve come to you like this. Logan’s in trouble, and I think you may be the only one that can help him.”
TBC…
