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chapter seven...
Ororo sat at the desk of her plant filled classroom alone, desperately
trying to concentrate on the essay in front of her. But after reading the
line, “---and it was on this day that the Japanese surrendered, bringing
WWII to an official close.” she gave up the ghost, gathered Artie’s essay
with the ten others and began filing the work away. Maybe she’d try again
later---but she very much doubted that she’d be in the right frame of mind
then either. She just couldn’t get the events of earlier out of her head,
Catherine’s reaction had been---strange.
Taking a sip of her by now lukewarm coffee that Bobby had so thoughtfully
brought for her, Ororo’s mind wondered back to her troubled niece. After
she had told her almost everything that had happened, including the fact
that she had woken up in a hospital bed about three weeks after the
incident, with no memory of how she had got there or who had taken her.
Ororo had wanted to explain why she’d never come back for Catherine. Of
course, she had tried---years into her stay at the mansion she had finally
managed to relay the story to the professor and they had used Cerebro to
try and locate her---but Xavier could never find a reading. Not even a
residual psyche---that’s why Ororo had given her up for dead. At peace
perhaps with Karima and the rest of her family. With that belief she had
been able to---at last---close that terrible chapter of her life and move
on. A new life, a new family, a new love---a new hope. Memories of what
had happened still haunted her from time to time---memories of what she
did in particular. But that’s when she could talk to the Professor, she
could confide in him, without having to burden Logan with the problems of
her past---she figured he had enough trouble coming to terms with his own.
She knew now that she had probably been foolish in such a presumption but
at the time it seemed preferable to dragging up the painful past for no
reason. Until that reason had turned up on the doorstep.
Now all she wanted to do was explain this to Catherine---explain why she’d
never come for her. But after their talk she had gone off for a walk, she
said she needed time to think but there was something more to it than
that. Ororo got the distinct impression that she simply didn’t want to be
near her---or maybe she was just being paranoid. After all she had just
been informed that her father was a murderous monster---but also that
Ororo was responsible for his death. It was all such a damn mess, a real
can of worms.
Ororo closed her eyes and sighed, placing the half drunken cup of coffee
back on the desk. How was she going to get Catherine to come round, to see
that she did what she had to do? She didn’t know. What she wouldn’t give
for a stiff drink now! But she didn’t think Charles would be all that
impressed by his senior teacher drinking in class---in the middle of the
afternoon! Besides she didn’t really drink, she left that pastime to her
husband. Speaking of which---
“Knock, knock.”
Ororo opened her eyes to see Logan at the doorway with what looked like
another (steaming hot) mug of coffee in his hand.
“Come in.” She gave him her best smile but even that appeared weary.
Making his way over to her, he snatched up one of the desk chairs on his
way. Bringing it to the front of her desk he swivelled it round so that
his arms rested on the back and set the mug down carefully in front of
her.
“So, how did it go? With Catherine I mean.” Logan reached over the desk
and took one of Ororo’s hands in his.
She sighed softly again and shook her head. Shrugging her shoulders
slightly she said, “I’m not sure---she was very quiet.”
Logan nodded his head absently, “Well it was a lot to take in, she came
here expecting to find her mother. She’ll be O. K---you just need to give
her some time.” He brought the tips of her fingers to his lips, kissing
them softly.
“I hope so.” Ororo replied quietly, all the while wondering what she had
done to have such an understanding and loving husband. Logan’s
transformation over the years had been astonishing---it proved to her that
underneath all the rough if you looked hard enough you could still find a
gem.
“I was kinda hoping to meet her---if that’s O. K. Or do ya think I should
leave it for a bit?” Logan sounded a little hesitant in his request.
Ororo thought about it for a moment before replying, “Maybe this
evening---I’m sure she’d like to meet her new Uncle!”
Logan gave a brief chuckle, “Uncle.” He repeated quietly, he’d never had a
relative before (in the context of his short memory) and a wife didn’t
quite count. This was a new one for him, but he liked the sound of it.
Thinking back to Catherine’s behaviour Ororo thought and then said aloud,
“When she’s got over the shock of everything, I think she’ll settle in
here very well.” But then she frowned as a possibility she hadn’t really
considered came to her.
“What?” Logan asked, noticing the expression immediately and giving her
cheek an affectionate stroke with his free hand.
“What if she decides that she doesn’t want to stay here?”
Logan gave her a reassuring smile before getting up from the chair and
making his way around the desk to stand behind her. Placing his hands on
her tense shoulders he began to massage her taught muscles, “There’s no
reason why she wouldn’t want to stay. I mean, the kid grew up in an
orphanage---you know what that’s like. She’s just found the only family in
the world that she has---why would she leave?”
#Because she probably blames me.# Ororo thought ruefully to herself, but
she hadn’t told Logan the whole story yet so she had to keep the reasons
for her scepticism under wraps for now. Then that made her think---maybe
it was time to fill him in. After all, she did promise that she’d tell him
once she had told Catherine.
“Logan---maybe it’s time I told you.”
The cautious tone of her voice made him halt his hand actions for a second
and when he resumed them he asked, “Tell me what? About what happened in
Cairo?”
“Yes.”
* * *
Jean had been stood outside of Cerebro for going on two hours now. She’d
taken a short break about half an hour ago, but until the Professor had
identified whatever it was that had invaded their cerebral defences this
morning, she didn’t want to leave Charles alone for to long. Whatever had
happened earlier it had been strong enough to penetrate even Xavier’s
mind---that meant it was serious.
“Hey, what are you doing? Is the Professor using Cerebro?” Scott came down
the circular, metallic corridor towards her.
“No, I’m just standing here---and have been for two hours---for the good
of my health.” Jean retorted with sarcastic humour.
Scott laughed, sidling up to his wife and giving her a loving kiss.
Running his hand down her hair he studied her face for a moment to
determine her mood---using humour as a defence? She only ever did that
when she was truly worried about something.
“What is it?” He asked, his eyebrows knitting above his protective shades.
“Something happened this morning---the Professor and I were---I don’t
know---attacked I guess is the only way I can describe it.”
“What?! Why wasn’t I told?”
Jean rolled her eyes, “We wanted to find out what it was before we worried
anyone else about it.” She ran her hand down Scott’s arm, “It’s probably
nothing---we psychics can be overly sensitive at times you know.” She
tried to reassure him, but it didn’t help one bit.
“Jean, I’m meant to be leader of this team. How the hell can I react
efficiently to any situation that arises if I’m not informed immediately?”
Here it was, the leadership complex coming out in him. On a bad day he
might even be mistaken for a control freak---but Jean was used to it, in
fact it had become one of the things that made Scott---well---Scott! She
wouldn’t recognise him if he didn’t go all ‘authority figure’ on her once
in a while.
“Look Scott, I didn’t think it was worth worrying you about until we were
sure what we were dealing with, that’s all.” She rubbed her fingers across
her forehead, the pain was still lingering, coming in short waves---but
she couldn’t get a lock on anything. She was still too inexperienced with
her powers; even after all this time, to do that.
Just at that moment there was a faint humming sound in the corridor,
followed quickly by a whirling sound as Cerebro’s reinforced steel door
began to side open. Xavier was soon through the opening and the look on
his face instantly told the pair that something was definitely seriously
wrong.
“What did you find Charles?” Jean asked with obvious concern as she walked
over to meet him as he exited the contraption. Scott following close
behind, arms folded over his chest.
Xavier looked from one X-Man to the other, his face rather pale and drawn
from spending so much time in Cerebro. “We need to find Ororo,
immediately.”
Jean and the Professor locked eyes and instantly Scott knew they were
having one of the telepathic rendezvous. He knew it shouldn’t but it
annoyed him intensely, if nothing else he always thought it rude. But he
was patient, he waited for them to finish before inquiring, “So what’s
happening? I presume it has something to do with the girl that turned up
yesterday.”
The Professor continued along the corridor not saying anything for a
moment, lost in his own thoughts. Then he suddenly called back to them, “A
meeting in the War Room---now.” Turning his chair around to face the pair,
who hadn’t actually moved to follow him yet, he said to Jean, “Contact
Bobby and Marie, I’ll get hold of Ororo and Logan.”
“O. K.” Jean prepared to follow Charles orders as the three made their way
to the War Room around the corner from Cerebro.
* * *
Catherine came to the edge of the mansion woodland and stopped, falling
down on her knees into the grass with the minimum of grace. She felt
numb---completely numb at what Ororo had just told her. But underneath
that she could feel anger simmering. Anger at whom, she wasn’t quite
sure---the Shadow King, Ororo, herself even. She was beginning to wish
she’d never come to find her. Maybe it would have been best for everyone
if she’d carried on travelling---with Abdul. The sudden thought of him
brought a tear to her eye and she wished for all the world that she were
with him now in Europe---or wherever he was by now. Maybe he’d gone back
to Cairo, where they’d set out on their adventure from.
Having grown up together at St. Catherine’s he was as good as a brother to
her, they’d been more or less inseparable since he was first brought to
the orphanage. Catherine had been just four years old when Abdul arrived,
he was six, both his parents having died in the out break of Scarlet Fever
that had gripped the cities slums. Just over a year ago they had decided
to leave the orphanage together but Abdul hadn’t known the real reason why
Catherine was so eager to leave. They’d travelled around Europe, doing
what they could to survive. Although it hadn’t been easy---illegal
travellers weren’t exactly welcome in Europe in the current climate, with
the almost ridiculously fever pitch hysteria over ‘asylum seekers’ they
had to be as inconspicuous as possible. That, plus Catherine was still
unsure as to whether she was a mutant or not. If she was, it certainly
wouldn’t have helped matters much---they constantly heard rumours on their
travels that various governments were developing some kind of ‘tracking
device’ to locate suspected mutants---whether they knew they were mutants
themselves or not. But they were just rumours, unsubstantiated hearsay.
Abdul had known of her fears but not the source of them---then one night,
in the Left-Bank area of Paris, she had snuck off on her own. Two weeks
later and here she was in America---all her hopes dashed and information
about her parentage that she could have lived without knowing. What was
that western saying, about being careful about what you wish for?
“That is very true indeed Catherine.”
Catherine almost screamed as she heard the reedy yet somehow powerful
voice from behind her. Turning around on the damp grass she looked up to
see a tall, thin and deathly pale man emerging from the trees. Then, after
the initial shock she thought about what he’d just said, had he read her
mind? She knew that there were people out there---in this very school in
fact---that could do that kind of thing.
“Who---who are you?” She asked haltingly, trying and failing miserably to
hide her rising fear.
“I’m the man who has been watching you for the last eight years of your
life.”
Catherine could say nothing in reply, she simply stared up at him, rather
perplexed as well as scared.
“You were just wondering how Abdul was, were you not?” The strange man’s
ashen face began to twitch as he tried to crack a smile---but couldn’t
quite manage it. So he gave up, the creases of his face and the ones that
ran down from behind the dark glasses that covered his eyes, falling down
into a semblance of an almost smooth face.
“How did you know?!” She snapped as she clamoured up from the ground
quickly. Taking one or two steps back from him, almost subconsciously she
then shouted, “Who are you? What do yo want?”
He laughed, a low and dark sound---quite unnerving given his
appearance---he didn’t seem capable of making such a forceful noise. But
it stopped abruptly as he took a few steps forwards to make up the ground
that she’d retreated.
“If you ever want to see your precious Abdul again,” He raised his right
arm that was clad in the thick black leather of his ankle-length trench
coat and placed his thin hand on Catherine’s shoulder. “I suggest you make
no fuss and come with me---immediately.” The man leant in close to her
face as he finished the sentence, his putrid breath making Catherine’s
nose wrinkle.
She stared up at him as she wondered what to do. Run away? Tell the others
at the mansion? But this strange man seemed to have powers, what if he
really did have Abdul? After all, nobody here knew of him, how could this
horrid little man have found out about her ‘brother’---unless he had been
doing what he claimed he had been? Watching her---studying her every move
for the last eight years. The very thought made her panic, her mind
clouded and all rational judgement went by the way side.
Catherine remained mute as she let the man guide her, by his cold, bony
hand on her shoulder, off into the woods that led to the out-of-bounds
area of the mansion’s surrounding grounds. Like a calf to the slaughter.
* * *
“I can’t believe this Professor,” Jean shook her head as her face appeared
a mixture of confusion and bewilderment. “Why didn’t she ever---“
Jean was stopped half way through her sentence as the automatic doors to
the War Room slid open and in walked Ororo, who was looking rather pale
and Logan, who had a face like thunder. Scott, who’d been leaning on the
central table, straightened up and looked over to Ororo, trying to make
his sympathy for her situation obvious but it was difficult to affect that
kind of unspoken support when nobody could see the expression in your
eyes. Bobby and Marie sat in the far right-hand corner of the room,
looking rather sheepish and feeling really quite awkward---they had the
distinct feeling that this mission was going to be very different from any
that they’d been on before.
“I’ve filled them in Ororo---on everything that’s been going on.” The
Professor said as he took his position at the head of the oval table that
had six high-backed chairs around it.
“Professor why?!” Ororo appeared genuinely hurt, like he’d betrayed her
confidence. “What right had you to---“
The Professor cut her off half way through her diatribe with an almost
dismissive hand gesture. “Please Ororo; you must understand that it was
necessary. We have a very serious problem arising.” All eyes in the room
were on Ororo, all with the same sympathetic look in them---pity almost,
and that only angered her more. The only person who wasn’t looking at her
was Logan, who seemed to be immersed in his own little world, his already
dark scowl getting deeper by the moment.
“Can every body please take a seat.” Charles said as he swept his hand
across the air to indicate the empty seats before him. Silently they all
did as they were asked.
“Something has come to my attention---and it could have dire consequences
for you
Ororo.” He paused, almost seeming reluctant to continue, but he did, “You
and Catherine.”
Ororo opened her mouth to ask why but Logan’s angry voice cut across
before she got the chance, “For fucks sake Chuck! Will ya get to the
point?” His frustration had reached boiling point and his moody silence
was finally broken.
“Logan.” Ororo soothed quietly as she rubbed her hand up and down his
bicep. But she understood his behaviour---he was angry. Angry at what his
wife had been put through and although there was nothing he could do about
it, it did stop him from being maddened. Anything that hurt his
wife---past or present---affected him deeply, that’s just the type of
husband he was. And although his overtly protective displays sometimes
irritated Ororo, she was more grateful for them than anything else, it was
just his way of showing he cared---he couldn’t help it.
“Don’t you talk to the---“Scott started it Charles defence, but he was cut
off by the man himself.
“It’s O.K. Scott,” He gestured to the X-Men’s leader to calm down. “You’re
right of course Logan---there’s no easy way to say this.” Xavier looked
directly at his Windrider, that same expression as the others in his eyes.
“He is still alive---somehow---he survived.”
There was a brief chorus of whispered “Whats?” and “Hows?” as Ororo just
stared at Xavier, truly pale now and her mouth agape. She instinctively
grabbed for Logan’s hand and he returned the sentiment tenfold.
“How the hell can he still be alive?! She killed the bastard---she saw him
die!” Logan snapped, misdirecting his anger at Charles. He’d obviously
never come across the phrase “Don’t shoot the messenger.”
“Logan, I don’t---“The Professor started but at the same time Scott
shouted over him, “Just calm the hell down---this isn’t the Professor’s
fault!”
“Keep out of this One-Eye, unless you want yer face rearranged!” Logan
stood up briskly, the chair falling over behind him. He leant forwards on
the table with his knuckles as Scott---who sat exactly opposite---did
likewise. The men were practically eyeball to eyeball and for a moment
nobody said a word. Despite the fact that the reason for their---distain
for one another had long since passed, they still couldn’t abide each
other. It was a situation every one at the mansion had learned to live
with as they could be at least civil to each other---most of the time.
“Logan, please,” Ororo said quietly, giving his shirt sleeve a soft tug,
beckoning him to sit. He looked down at her, reluctantly breaking the
increasingly tense stand-off. But as soon as he caught sight of his wife’s
face he soon forgot about the macho posturing. “Let’s just listen to what
Charles has to say shall we.”
Logan shook his head apologetically, “Sure, I’m sorry darlin’.” He
upturned his chair and sat back down, holding Ororo’s hand once more.
Scott sat then too, briefly looking at Jean but all she did was shake her
head at him, an angry gleam sparking in her brown eyes. Then she turned
away from him with a sharp toss of her head to face the Professor. Bobby
and Marie exchanged weary glances once everything had calmed down. They
felt like two children recently promoted to the adults table that were
rapidly realising that it wasn’t as fun as they thought it would be.
“As I was saying, Jean and I felt a ‘hostile’ presence this morning. We
didn’t want to worry anybody until we had determined who or what it was.
So I’ve spent the majority of the afternoon in Cerebro---that’s when I
came across him.” Charles stopped for a moment to briefly assess how Ororo
was taking all of this because his next revelation was going to be much
harder to hear. “Ororo dear---the reason we could never find Catherine was
because he has been blocking my path.”
“What?” Ororo’s eyebrows knitted in complete confusion.
“He’s a telepath Ororo---more powerful than any other I have come across
before. Almost as powerful as me. We could never find Catherine because he
never wanted us to. I had my suspicion this morning---it was Catherine’s
mind that made contact with us---inadvertently. She probably didn’t even
realise she was doing it, but I felt a trace---a trace of the presence
that I felt in your own mind when you let me see what happened to you in
Cairo.” Charles sighed, looking down at his clasped hands resting on the
table. “I don’t know why I didn’t pick up on this then---maybe if I had we
could of---“
“Don’t blame yourself Charles,” Ororo could sense where he was going with
this and she wasn’t about to let him feel guilty, not after everything
he’d done for her. “If he’s as powerful as you say he is then there was no
way you could have known.”
“I should have at least checked for the signs.” Charles continued his
self-deprecation regardless.
But then Jean stepped in, “Ororo’s right Professor---you weren’t to know.”
“So what do we do now?” Scott interjected, trying to get back to the issue
at hand. “Is he a direct threat or what?”
“At the moment I think it is imperative that we---“ The Professor suddenly
stopped half way through his sentence, his light blue eyes losing their
specific focus.
“Oh my God!” Jean whispered as her lesser talents slowly became aware of
what Xavier had already picked up on.
“What? What is it?!” Logan shouted, his usual impatience showing through.
“He‘s here---he has Catherine.”
-TBC-
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