Disclaimer: Marvel characters do not belong to me.
Logan placed Ororo's dinner in front of her, on a plate rich with greens and steak cooked to perfection. She sat across from his seat at the make-shift dining table he'd created using the kitchen prep table and some barstool type chairs from the main room. The entire place had filled with the smell of deliciousness as Logan whipped around and prepared their meal, with an ease she'd never known her Logan to have in the kitchen. Then again, she'd never seen the man cook. He could be just as comfortable as his doppelgänger in the same setting.
As her thoughts drifted, Logan set some water on the table for her, and beer for himself, grabbing the dishtowel from over his shoulder and throwing it onto the counter, finished with the evening's meal. He himself must've been ravenous, setting his arms on either side of his plate and looking at his dinner as though it was the last meal he might ever have. “Dig in.” He grinned, taking his knife and fork.
“No thank you.” Ororo said politely, her free hand not reaching for a utensil. The other had been placed behind her back and tied to the chair.
He stopped midway through cutting his steak. “'Darlin', ya don't need t' make any sweepin' statements here. You're hungry, eat.”
“My appetite has left me.” That was a bold faced lie, considering that her stomach was aching from the scent and her mouth, salivating.
“That's bullshit. Yer stomach ain't as good a liar as you.” He tapped his ear. “Come on, stage a protest later and eat your food.”
“No thank you.” she repeated.
The fork didn't reach his lips. In a low voice, he said again: “Eat. Your. Food.”
“Since you put it that way,” she said, “no.”
“Goddamnit!” Logan shouted, dropping his fork and slamming his fist on the table, startling her. “Why the fuck do ya always have to be so fucking stubborn?” He flipped his plate in anger, the dish hitting the floor and shattering, steam rising from the food that had not had a chance to cool. Ororo watched him as he buried his head in his hands. “Do you know how long it's been since I've actually sat down and shared a meal with someone? Anyone? I actually put a lot o' work inta this.” Suddenly, laughter emanated from him, thick and loud. “But then again, not like ya give a shit. Nothing I ever did fer 'the goddess' was good enough.”
“Stop.” she said softly. “Stop comparing the Ororo you know, to me. That was your first mistake.”
“Yeah well, you don't know her. You don't know how alike you are in every way.”
She lifted an eyebrow. “Well, you don't know me, and so the same applies. If you did, you would know that this,” she illustrated, jerking her restricted arm, “will get you nowhere.” He looked at her now, truly looked at her, with a focus and intensity he had not shown. “You are my accuser, and yet refuse to tell me in detail, what I am being accused of. I can only give you my word that there is no deception on my part. Believe what you will.”
Logan took time before speaking. “Cairo. You had yer goons lock me up in a bunker and leave me t' rot in there.”
“And how can you be so sure that it was Ororo?”
He ground his finger into his temple. “All the pieces, they all fit together. See, it wasn' just the part about bein' left t' die, it's the fact that while I was in there, I started this crazy dance between worlds. Wakin' up in fucked up places, thinkin' I was dreamin' then hopin' the bunker was the dream... or nightmare. I couldn't keep track of time anymore, couldn't get back to the mansion no matter how hard I tried. Like someone was stopping me, every decision I made or plan, kept steerin' me away from there. The only constant though, was you. I saw you everywhere, just glimpses, didn't matter which reality I was in. Like ya were watchin' me, keepin' tabs.” He let out a breath of air. “I remember ya tellin' me years ago about some witchy ancestry, an' with yer past with the Shadow King, you've definitely got the means.”
“But what's the motive?” After having asked the question, she wasn't really sure she wanted it answered. Her Logan had told her the stories of this, Double's, trips to the alternate world, the events that lead to Wolverine becoming a code name long buried and never spoken. The idea that the man who committed that crime, now sat before her. The fact that without her abilities, Ororo would most certainly be the looser in a fight against him. Suddenly, she felt more uneasy than she had in her time as his prisoner. As much as he reminded her of the Logan she cared for, something was different.
His manner betrayed something, unsettling.
“That's simple: I hurt ya.” He rested his chin on his clasped hands, never breaking eye contact.
She felt a knot in her throat, her heart picking up an extra few beats as the gravity of her situation truly struck. “I...” she managed to let out.
“I hurt ya 'Ro.” Logan got up from his seat, slowly walking behind her. He drew a deep breath, enjoying the scent of her hair and how long it had been since he'd had the pleasure. He moved in, his lips mere inches from her ear. “And I couldn't promise that I would never do it again.”
“Schizophrenia.” Charles said, setting down the file in his hand. “All of the documented cases listed in Alima's patient files, exhibited mental illnesses caused by what we can only assume to be a mutant. Schizophrenia is the most prevalent of them all. She took a lot of time and put a lot of care into each of their treatments but I believe even with Alima's dedication and expertise, these people have been irreversibly affected.”
Logan nodded his head in agreement, then shook it. “Gotta say Chuck, my knowledge of mental illnesses is a bit rusty.”
“Symptoms include rapid and severe mood changes from high to low, emotional detachment and an inability to form relationships, sudden and irrational anger, hostility, suspiciousness. There is a tendency to have paranoid delusions where the patient may feel the world is conspiring against them, reading their minds and controlling them.” Henry volunteered, sitting at Logan's side.
“As always Hank, you're my favourite blue, walking Encyclopedia.” tossed Logan. “So the doc is suggestin' that somebody did this t' us.” Logan said. He cracked his knuckles. “I don't get it. If a mutant could move between realities an' mind fuck whoever they wanted to, why me? An' two versions t' boot.”
Charles shrugged. “Maybe this mutant has a fascination with you. Do you think it possible that it's someone you know?”
“Never met anyone who could do that.” he responded.
“Maybe it's someone who knows you.” Hank said.
Logan looked at him, unsettled by the thought. “Still, if both versions o' me went through the same thing, then why the hell aren't I goin' around...” he left the rest of the sentence open. No one needed to hear the words to gather what he was going to say.
“Although from what you tell us, it's clear that there are many similarities shared between ourselves and our alternate forms, I still believe that we are different in aspects of what makes us who we are.” said the professor.
“Yer talkin' about a soul.” The professor nodded. “Sorry Chuck, but I just ain't that into the spiritual stuff.”
“You don't have to be. As far as I'm concerned, the current situation is proof enough.” He closed the file and pursed his lips. “We're obviously dealing with a very powerful mutant here. One with not only the ability to move through alternate dimensions, but with an ability to alter and twist the mind, or at least a firm grasp of how to manipulate the situation in order to do so.”
“Hank, could you give us a minute?” Logan asked. Henry nodded and made his way out of the office. The rhythmic tick of the cuckoo clock served as a placeholder, as Logan seemed to ponder on what he was about to share. He slid forward in his seat, elbows on knees, fingers locked, eyes fixed on a spot on the carpet. “I'm just gonna lay this out there 'cause',” he let out a short, truly genuine laugh, “well, 'cause I feel like a rubber duck, in an ocean sized clusterfuck.” His language never failed to disrupt Charles, even if for the briefest of moments. “I'm a simple man, and I like it that way. But this... it ain't simple. I can't fight, what I don't know, and I can't kill, what I can't find. See I'm the best there is at what I do but the problem is, I can't do that now. All those people, they went through things, like I did, and they lost it. Now I ain't no scientist but the odds are pretty good that if this keeps up, same thing's gonna happen ta me. And it's already started.” He added, sensing the professor's desire to comment.
“Logan, I will do everything in my power to keep you sane.” Charles said softly.
The unkempt man looked at him, such as the professor had never witnessed before. A look that shocked him with its vulnerability. “In my world, Ororo and I are... somethin'. I don't do relationships 'cause they don't last with me, and maybe, that part of what we are won't either. But I guess it doesn't matter because it's more than that, and we're more than that, and that is the only thing keeping me from goin' ten kinds o' crazy. If I did go AWOL, I'd imagine it'd be the only thing that might bring me back.” He stood suddenly, rubbing at his beard as he walked to the bookcase behind him. “She dragged me out of hell. She fought for me in more ways than one. ' Changed things. Fer the first time, I know that this is someone I won't only die for... but someone I'll live for. And Chuck, if I loose that...”
A knock on the door cut him short. “Professor,” Scott said as he walked in, “sorry to interrupt but I think we might have a problem. Ororo hasn't checked for 48 hours, and she's not responding to any of the messages we've left or answering her phone.” Logan turned.
“Maybe she's fine and I'm overreacting but...”
“In light o' recent events, the schizo might know her connection t' me an' get back to the nine ta five job of destroying lives.” Logan finished for him.
Scott nodded in agreement, jaw clenched. “I'd like to put together a small team professor. If she needs time alone, I'd prefer she have it as far away from this situation as possible.”
“Agreed.” Charles nodded.
“I'm coming with you.” Logan stated, not wanting to dwell on the thoughts that were forcing their way into his mind. He wouldn't wish what he'd been through on his worst enemy.
Scott placed his hand on Logan's chest, blocking him from leaving. “I don't need you on this. I'll take care of my own.”
Before Logan could protest, the professor voiced his agreement, calming him telepathically. “Ready the team and have them on standby. I'll use Cerebro to try and locate her, and if that proves unsuccessful, you'll have a go.” Scott nodded and left. “Logan, this puts you in a very difficult position. While I believe Scott is wrong to exclude you from this based on his dislike for Logan and that your expertise might be invaluable, I'm not sure if you should go. Since entering this reality again, your desire to return to your own and find her, has not ebbed. I believe I can help you get back, but you have to decide which Ororo needs you more.”
Cairo, Egypt
The first thing she heard was the bustle of the street, a number of floors below from the sounds of it. Laughter, a car horn, a scooter whizzing by. A day she might otherwise have been enjoying if not for her current incarceration. Ororo tried to move her arms, both tied behind her back. Her legs received the same treatment, tied at the ankle to each leg of the chair which she occupied. She slowly lifted her head, opening her eyes and adjusting her sight to the blurry shapes that took some time to become clear. She had been gagged, her mouth intensely dry.
There was no telling how long she'd been out. The last thing she remembered was meeting an old friend, a fellow thief from her childhood. Someone must've knocked her out from behind. She never saw it coming. The room was well kept: windows open, letting in a cooling breeze, white curtains bending to the air. Books decorated the desk to her left, their absence on the well stocked bookshelf evident. A muted television on the other side of the room displayed the news.
“Finally.” A woman's voice. “I must admit, I was starting to get extremely bored waiting for you to wake, Sleeping Beauty.” She entered, a glass in one hand and bourque covering her features. Removing the gag from Ororo's mouth, she brought the glass to her prisoner's lips, receiving a defiant lack of cooperation when she tried to tip the water into her mouth. “It's just water honey, and it won't kill you to drink it. The opposite in fact.”
“Who are you?”
“Now that, is a very interesting question.” She set the glass down.
“You should know better than to go snooping around for mutant criminals here, Ororo. Offering a half a million dollars to the mutant who possesses the skills you need, now that's throwing some serious blood into the water. Now I'm wondering, why?”
“Who, are you?” Ororo asked more insistently.
“You're smart. You wouldn't put this on the table unless you were desperate.” The woman brought a chair from the desk and sat face to face. “You flew half way across the world to find yourself a telepath. Which seems strange to me, considering you live with the most powerful one on Earth.”
“I will not ask you again.” Concentrating, Ororo began to summon the elements. But, none came to her aid.
“I wouldn't bother. The groggy sensation you're experiencing is due to the fiesta of drugs in your system, many of which are also preventing you from accessing your abilities.” She crossed her legs and smoothed out her bourque. “Now, why would you be looking for a telepath?”
Ororo hardened her gaze. “Why have you taken me prisoner?”
“I asked first.” Ororo felt her insides begin to twist, as though a hand had reached in and clutched to every major organ. “Trust me, as doped as you are, this will still hurt. A lot.”
“Why are you doing this?!” Ororo screamed, doubling over in pain.
“You're not getting how this works, my dear. I ask the questions, and you answer them, and maybe if I'm feeling up to it, I might consider answering yours.” She gently lifted Ororo's chin, bringing her voice to a whisper. “You see, I don't like people keeping information from me and what you're feeling now, is me going easy on you. If you'd prefer, I can start to boil every cell in your body, until you answer my very simple question. Why?”
Ororo's head suddenly felt as though it had been put in a vice. The eyes of the woman in front of her seemed calm, happy even. As the pressure continued to mount, her nose began to bleed out, followed by her ear. “To forget!” she shouted, close to passing out. She felt instant relief, savouring the deep breaths she could now take. “To forget the past years of my life.”
Her eyebrow raised. “Why come here?”
“No one I know would do this for me. I remembered from my childhood, the stories of a mutant who ran with one of the gangs.” Ororo took a moment to control her breathing. “He could supposedly take the memories of witnesses, or victims. There were rumours that he was for hire. At the time, it seemed a mystery.”
“But now you've put together that he was a mutant and thought you might hire him yourself.” She nodded. “Very risky. Very, very risky. But why now?”
Ororo glared at her, hating herself for not being able to resist the pain. “Cairo was mentioned, and the opportunity presented itself at a time where forgetting is all I want to do.”
“Oh, this is just too precious.” the woman laughed. “I couldn't have planned this better myself.”
“Your turn. Why have you captured me? How do you know about me? And why do you want to know more?” Ororo asked, trying to find familiarity in her captor's large, hazel eyes, with little success.
“One question at a time. I believe the first regarded who I am.” She unclipped her bourque, revealing golden skin and a disturbing smile. “My name, is Alima.”
To be continued, soon, I promise. Already half through the next chapter which I'm excited about, but I needed this filler chapter to set some things up :) As always, reviews and crit are more than welcomed. I hope you're enjoying the story so far.
