Title: The Passion of Death

Author: Lornadane (Email)

Website: no site

Rating: NC-17 for non-consensual graphic sex

Pairing/main characters: Wolverine/Original female character

Series/Sequel: complete

Summary: During Wolverine's time as Death he encounters a new mutant named Aerin for whom Apocalypse has plans.

Disclaimer: All X-men and X-villians are Marvel's characters. Please don't sue me. This was just fun to write. Aerin is my character.

Notes: If you're offended by this material I apologize. I don't condone non-consensual sex, this just fit into the story. It's pure fantasy and would not wish it to happen to anyone in reality.

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The Passion of Death

By Lornadane

 

Chapter One

It had been 3 days. Three days of terror and pain being forced to do battle with someone she knew only as Death. Or so she presumed. There were no clocks on the walls, no windows, no way of telling day from night. Only this tiny cell and the "training arena". She presumed that it had been three days. She assumed they had given her a night to recover from each battle. Only they knew.
She had woken to a cold concrete floor in a circular room with no visible doors. Only a gallery 10, maybe 15 feet above. As she sat up she put a hand to the cold steel of the collar around her neck. It was about a centimeter thick and an inch wide. It fit tightly around her throat almost choking her. She felt several notches and what might have been buttons on the outer part. But there were no clasps. No definitive opening like the room. She wore only a black sleeveless leotard. No shoes. A far different outfit from the scrub top and jockey shorts she had worn to bed. Bed. She remembered going to sleep, and then nothing. No dreams came back to her. She couldn't remember even getting up to use the toilet.
A movement in her periphery made her look up quickly. A short compact lethal man stood across from her, watching her closely as she rose to her knees. He wore a blue and silver leotard with a red loin cloth and ram's skull between his legs. She could see his dark menacing eyes, but a red cloth wrapped tightly around his head covering everything but those terrible eyes enshrouded his face. Eyes that held murder in them. Eyes that had seen more violence than she could imagine.
An even shorter man stood in the gallery watching them both intently, with a smile.
"Let the battle begin!" he pronounced with satisfaction. "Fight, weak one. Fight for your freedom to survive another day. Or die like the weakling you are."
The words barely registered across her brain before the man in blue leaped toward her, cracking her across the face, forcing her to stumble back and down to the ground. The man in the gallery laughed. She looked across to the killer stalking toward her. Panic set in. She turned her head around searching for some door, some escape route, some way to get out of there, but there were only the smooth gray walls of the circle. No chance to climb those walls. And he was here, grabbing her by the arm, dragging her to her feet before laying a blow to her belly.
"Show some spirit before I take you down, frail." he taunted as she staggered back again, the wind knocked out of her.
"Take you down" rang across her mind. "Not kill." she thought. She stood up straighter breathing heavy. Panic was surfacing again. No. She couldn't give into it. She had to think.
SLAM! She was thrown against the wall, her back hitting the hard surface. She managed to throw herself slightly forward just in time to keep her head from slamming against the wall. She rolled to her side and as a hand reached for her a second time to pull her from the floor, she kicked out as hard as she could. Harder than she thought possible. Her right foot impacted with the man's stomach and it was his time to stagger back. She leapt to her feet, not thinking, only moving with instinct, knowing she had to keep him off balance. She brought both her arms together swinging out toward his head. She met his forehead with her hands and he went back again.
"Excellent." Came the smug voice from the gallery. "Perhaps Death will let you live another day or two."
She ignored him, knowing it would only distract her. And distraction would give her opponent the edge to recover. Instead she moved forward quickly, positioning herself on her left foot to give her leverage as she kicked out with the other, aiming it again at the head. She missed her target as Death recovered enough to dodge her blow. And with a well-placed hand he grasped her thigh and pushed her back. In a flash he was on her, hitting her with his fists. Pounding her head, her torso. She raised her hands trying to fend off the blows, trying to get a chance to get out of the way. But the blows were coming in faster and faster. He was beating her down. She couldn't possibly survive this.
"Enough, Death, enough." smiled the man from the gallery. "She has proven that she has a survivor's will, if not the strength to survive. We will give her another chance."
Death looked up at the man and nodded. Aerin slumped to the ground, blood trickling from her nose. Bruises beginning to form on her arms and face. "It's over", she thought as unconsciousness took her.
But it wasn't over by far. Two more time's men wearing what looked to be Egyptian headdress had taken her to the circular room. They were naked except for a cloth wrapped around their waist. They carried spears. She knew she couldn't overcome them and even if she did, where would she run too. She had no idea where she was. She knew absolutely nothing of their motives. She had no clue as to why she was being tortured, beyond the fact that she was being asked to fight for her survival.
The second day was much like the first. She tried desperately to keep him off balance. She was able to land several direct hits that kept him at bay. But again he brought her down. Pummeling her onto her knees, forcing her to weakly try to protect her face from his onslaught. And again the strange little man in the gallery stopped him from beating her to death.
On the third day, she chose another strategy. She watched him. She tried to copy his moves. He was obviously an experienced fighter and she hoped it would give her some clue on how to bring him down. This time when he leapt to strike her, she feinted to her left and dodged to her right as she had seen him do previously. This caught him momentarily off guard and she was able to strike him on the back of his head sending him sprawling to the floor. She pounced, striking him with all her might. Clubbing him with hands knotted together. "SON OF A BITCH!" she yelled, hitting him over and over, not thinking, not stopping to wonder at the ferociousness of her attack. Every movement pure animal rage and instinct. But it did no good. He did not raise his hands to protect himself from the blows. He merely waited for a chance to reach out passed her arms, grab her waist and shove her with all his might. And he was on her again, ready to punch her into unconsciousness.
"STOP!" called the watcher. "Impressive. You are learning, weakling."
And here she was again in her tiny cell with no clue as to why this was happening. Her room offered her little hope. A small cube with only a bed. Not even a place to relieve herself. And certainly no sink to cleanse her wounds. There were no vents she could see. But she could feel the airflow from above. She wondered at the technology. The door slid open and shut, controlled by the panel she had seen outside, the one with strange symbols she couldn't hope to read. Her guards ignored every word, every plea for understanding as they roughly pushed her to battle each day.
Why? Why was she tortured this way? Who were these men and what did they want from her? She was without a clue, as she went back over her life, trying to gain one inkling in the hopes that she could understand. And possibly use that knowledge to her advantage. But she could see nothing in her past that would explain this future. She had had a small insignificant life. Tragedies to be sure, but nothing out of the ordinary. Her parents had been non threatening. They weren't wealthy and had sadly died when she was sixteen. She had a brother who took care of her after they had died, and saw her off to college. There had been little inheritance. Enough to pay for a few years at the small town university she attended. She had managed to get a baccalaureate degree in nursing and was now working in a New York hospital ER. It was interesting and exciting, but again, not really out of the ordinary.
So was this random torture. Luck of the draw. Some government experiment where her name had been pulled out of a lottery. She lay on her side on the bed, holding her chest tightly, certain of having cracked a rib. Every breath hurt. Her body ached down to the roots of her hair. Her face felt swollen in places and she might have had a black eye. She wouldn't make it, she thought in despair. She would die here. And for what. Some sadistic man's pleasure. Two. Two sadistic men. All she knew was what she was told. To fight for the freedom to survive another day. She wanted desperately to cry at that moment, but found no energy for even that effort. So she would fight again tomorrow and maybe the day after. And if she were lucky, maybe the day after that. Until the man in the gallery gave Death permission to beat her to death.
But fight she would. Till her last dying breath. She would not cower. She may have tried to run once out of sheer terror. But not now. She was not as afraid anymore. And she was angry. Perhaps that anger would save her.
The door slid open. Startled, she turned her head to look at the entrance. It was too early for the guards to come for her. At least she thought is was too early. But then as her eyes adjusted to the light streaming in from the hallway, she saw the familiar blue and silver leotard and terror paralyzed her where she lay. No thoughts of anger now. She could not think at all for several moments as he stared at her. It registered in her mind that his face was revealed and he was not disfigured as she had surmised. It was a rugged face with wild black hair, blacker than the deepest wood at night. Two peaks swept back on either side.
Impossible that they would stand up like that. But everything seemed impossible about this man. Thick sideburns framed his hard square face. And those terrible eyes bent on her destruction.
Suddenly her thoughts came racing back. "Why was he here" was most pressing in her mind. And then as realization hit her she prepared herself to spring from the bed. But he was too quick. He was on her pushing her back against the bed and placing each arm on either side of her chest. Shoving her hips over against the wall with his body he sat down next to her and watched her intently. Her breath was coming in small gasps. She felt the cracked rib more intensely than before. She could think of no way to get past him so she stared back at him, pushing down the stark terror that was climbing up her throat.
He raised a hand just then and she flinched back, cursing herself for her fearful action, not wanting to show him any weakness. "NO!" her mind screamed over and over. "NONONONONO!" She had thought they had taken everything from her. Her life, her job, her money, her dogs, her life. But she had been wrong. Now they would take everything from her. Her pride and her dignity, perhaps even her sanity. She would die if he took her. She wouldn't want to live. And if she couldn't kill herself, she would make him do it. She would goad him into it somehow. She could not live if he raped her.
His meaty hand took hold of her chin and turned it slowly from side to side as he examined the bruises he had inflicted on her.
"You'll live." he said and forced his mouth onto hers. Before she could think his tongue pushed its way between her lips. On instinct she bit down hard, tasting his blood. He only smiled and grabbed her jaw forcing it open to remove his tongue.
"First blood to you". He chuckled then, a low growl in his throat devoid of mirth. And then he stared down at her, his face deadly serious.
"He has commanded this and I intend to follow his orders. Now it can go easy for you or hard. You can cooperate and we'll spend a pleasant night, or you can fight me. I'll win again, and you'll just hurt even more. What's it gonna be, darlin'?" he smiled menacingly at the term of affection. "Will you cooperate?"
Panic told her to give in. Pride and anger won out. "No!" she hissed.
"Good." He nodded, satisfaction written on his face. "I never liked the easy way. 'Sides, you're a fighter. One who'll fight even when she knows the odds are against her. I like that."
Has he spoke he pushed her down into the bed cupping a breast in his hand. She swung out at him, but he caught her arm in his other hand, sweeping down to collect her other arm and raising them both above her head. Then he popped a middle claw. A scream formed in the back of her mind, but her jaw, as well as the rest of her body became paralyzed. This was not happening. Th...that claw...it couldn't have. That's impossible. Death had not shown his claws during their "training sessions". A shiver went down her spine. He must be a mutant came a thought far in the back of her mind. But she had never seen one up close. And never one this deadly. It made sense. His strength, his speed, the claws. Mutants. But she wasn't a mutant. No powers had come to her during puberty. Just pimples and raging emotions. Why would they pit a human against a mutant, and one this deadly. They must want her dead.
Suddenly her paralyses broke. She didn't want to die. Not like this. Not torn to bits by this mutant claw extending from his hand like a grotesque appendage. She kicked out at him, seeking with her leg to hit any body part. Her body flailed against him. He had her arms secure, but the rest she could use as a weapon.
"Be still!" he commanded. And as if on cue her body went limp. "Or I will cut ya." As she lay there terror stricken and unable to fight back, he raised the claw to her right shoulder cutting the strap to her leotard. And with one swift move he cut the left strap. Then slowly, ever so slowly he moved his hand down her stomach to her nether regions and making a small slit at the edge of her clitoris he inserted the claw in the opening and began ripping up until the material fell away. She held her breath as she watched him work. Afraid to move less the claw slip and cut into her.
"That's good." he grunted, eyeing the length of her from her full soft round breasts to the velvet gold mound between her legs. He then made short work of the legs of her leotard, tearing away the cloth without the precision of his first cuts. "That's better." He grinned and sheathed his claw.
He looked back at her. Lying there, unable to move, much less breath, naked under him, her body flushed. "You want me." he growled. "Or at least your body wants me. I can smell it on ya." He caressed a breast, pinching the nipple between his thumb and forefinger. It stood erect and swollen and he bent to suckle it as his hand proceeded to the other nipple, bringing it to life. Aerin felt a warmth between her legs and a tightening. As if knowing what he would do next, she crossed her legs tightly. Spying the movement, he laughed. "You think I can't get down there?" As if to prove his boast he pushed his hand roughly down between her thighs, smirking. His middle finger swept the length between her vaginal lips. He pulled his hand away and sniffed the finger he had inserted. "Yer ready for me, aren't ya, darlin'?" He then put his finger in his mouth and sucked it slowly, savoring her juices.
It was too much. His arrogance and her arousal. She spat at him, cursing him, "GODAMN YOU! GODAMN YOU TO HELL!" He hesitated, and a sadness crossed over his face. "He already has." he said, so low she almost didn't here it. "He already has." But then the emotion was gone, replaced by violence and desire. Not to sate a bodily lust, but to conquer. He would have her body and then take her soul.
He rose slowly, keeping an eye on her. He might be the stronger of the two, but he was wary just the same. She was cornered and that made her more dangerous. He let go of her hands, still watching to make sure she wouldn't bolt. When he was satisfied that she would stay down, he began to strip off his training clothes.
His standing up caught her off guard. She expected him to take her fully clothed, the better to accentuate her nakedness and rob her of pride. But as he stood, she found herself looking straight at the door from between his spread thighs. "It's unlocked" the thought came to her. "He couldn't have locked it from in here. I didn't see him. He may have programmed it to lock on his entrance, but that would leave him locked in here with me. How would he get out." She thought of the guards, but this was her only chance. If the door was unbarred, she could escape. And she had too. She could not let him do what he intended.
Like lightening, she sprang from the bed hoping to catch him unaware as she ducked around him. But with a speed that defied physics, his arm came out catching her by the waist and throwing her back toward the bed.
Her head cracked against the wall and she slumped down onto the bed like a broken doll.
"You asked for the hard way, didn't cha?" he spoke angrily. "Well, you got it, girl." He continued to undress. Aerin felt her head throb. She reached around to the back of her skull, amazed that she was able to move, and pulled back a hand covered in blood. "Good." she thought, fatigue washing over her. "I'll have a concussion, fall asleep, and die. Or a subdural bleed." She felt the back of her head again. The bleeding had slowed, and she noticed only a small laceration. "I didn't pass out." she thought sadly.
She looked up at Death. He was completely undressed by then, standing over her, satisfied that she had been subdued for the moment. Adrenaline hit her as she looked to his erect penis. The size of it. She couldn't. It wasn't possible. She moaned and moved toward the corner of the bed, trying to get as far away as was physically possible. His engorged member stood nine inches from root to tip. It was not only long but also thick, veins bulging at the sides.
"You can't...I couldn't....don't you see...." pride was crushed under a wave of terror. She had only one card left to play. "I've never."
He paused in his tracks. "What do ya mean you've never?" His eyes grew to slits and he frowned, disconcerted. That couldn't be possible. She was a young beautiful girl. Twenty-three at the most. She'd have had hundreds of opportunities. He didn't take her for a prude. Then he smiled, wicked and wild. It was her only chance. She thought the ruse would stop him, and it almost did. "First time for everything, darlin'. First time for everything."
He wasn't stopping. "Please, please don't do this." she pleaded, trying to melt into the wall. She had no energy left. The blow to the head had left her woozy and drained. She couldn't fight and this would hurt her more than any wound he'd given her with the strike of his hand. He wasn't stopping. Taking a hold of her legs he pulled her down the bed and lowered himself on top of her, his weight crushing her. Even if she had had the energy to fight him she had no leverage to attack him. He secured her arms on either side of her head using both of his hands to push them down tightly against the bed. Then using his knee he forced her legs apart. He was between her now. She closed her eyes, biting her lips to keep from screaming, but a small whimper escaped as she felt his penis rock slightly against her vaginal lips.
"Hush." he whispered. "It's all over now."
He moved into her slowly, his shaft driving forward with a will of it's own. It took all his determination not to tear into her, possibly ripping her. The fight was over. He had won. Again. But something kept him from humiliating her further. She had fought like a tiger. He admired that she had never really given up. Even now, inches from defeat, he could feel her defiance. He could smell it in her tightly suppressed breathing. He thrust forward another inch. And frowned. She was tight. Tighter than anyone he had ever made love to. Had she been telling the truth. He looked at her, eyes closed, biting her lip, trying to hold back the fear. Perhaps.
Suddenly, she pulled her hips down and away from him. Both his anger at her deliberate use of his hesitation and his desire caused him to ram forward into her. She screamed more in fear than in pain. But make no mistake, there was pain. Burning, searing pain at the friction he caused. Her womanhood ripped open inside. She felt torn in two. He stopped. She bit down hard on her lower lip, not wanting to scream again. For if she did she knew she would scream and scream until her voice was lost to her.
He pulled slowly out of her with tremendous control. And slowly thrust back into her. She was moistening. So tight, so wet. He could feel his passion building. But he didn't want to end it so quickly. He had hurt her, he knew, but now that he had taken her virginity there was no point in stopping. However, he could give her pleasure after the pain. Again he moved out of her slowly, letting the head of his penis rest at the opening, teasing her. Involuntarily she moved her hips toward him, cursing her body's betrayal. He looked up at her. Her eyes were still shut tight refusing to believe her own desire. Refusing to give in. He grunted his enjoyment.
"The pain will ease. Don't worry." He thrust gently back into her. Again and again, slowly but tempo building. Suddenly he wanted to see her eyes. "Look at me." He said to as he went into her again, bringing his face close to hers. Her eyes flickered open. Anger, hatred, sadness, pain, betrayal, all played out in her eyes. And suddenly defiance as she looked at him and saw what she took to be pity. She turned her head away from him toward the wall and closed her eyes again. "Look at me." he commanded again. She refused. His own anger and arrogance came rising to the surface and he thrust into her savagely, demanding her with his very body to look at him. And she defied him. He began to quicken his pace. He began to thrust hard and fast. But sensing his anger give way to the lust building inside him, he slowed again. His breath became ragged and labored as he reached his climax. Damnable curiosity caused Aerin to turn her head back to him and look at his face. His eyes were closed, concentrating on the task at hand. A drop of sweat rolled across his tortured brow. She lay very still beneath him feeling him fill her to the core. The pain had mostly subsided. And she only felt tired again. A tiny flash of pleasure washed over her. She shut her eyes tight, refusing to give in. But as another wave rolled over her, she felt her self-control breaking down. Then Death plunged inside her once again pushing hard against her cervix and shuddering as he came. She felt him inside of her drenching her with sperm, her own enjoyment denied with that final thrust coming too soon.
He lay inside her for a long time. His face buried in her neck, enjoying, really enjoying the warmth of her beneath him. So tight and wet. Another time, another place this might have been perfection. And she was angry, still defying him with the tenseness of her body. If she would only relax, he thought. And then he thought of his Master. The one who had ordered him to take her. He should leave now. He had done what he had been ordered to do. His master, who knew him, knew how he would feel about this girl.
"She is stronger than she thinks. But you are the stronger. You will subdue her to your will. And she will bare you strong sons, mutant sons, to worship me and reign with me. She will fight you with her dying breath, but you will bring her back to life and she will be yours body and soul. But you will be hers also. You must guard against your weakness for her. Or she will control you."
"No frail girl will ever control me." Death said arrogantly.
"Go then. And teach her who is in charge." En Sabah Nur commanded.
"She won't control me." Anger flooded through him and he rose from off her lithe young body. She felt him stir, pulling out. "It's over." she thought, breathing a silent sigh of relief. "Now he'll go, and I can die."
But as he stood up releasing her arms, a thought came to him. He would get the upper hand. He would make her want to die for his touch. He stared down at her. He would teach her who was in charge. He sat down next to her and felt her start as she realized he wasn't leaving. He smiled dangerously.
"I've done what I've been ordered to do." he said pleasantly. "And I must admit I took an awful lot of pleasure in it. Best order I've had since I got here." He grinned wickedly as she blushed. "But that doesn't mean I can't leave you with a little token o' my appreciation."
Her eyes flew open at that last sentence. What was he intending? She sat up, but he pushed her back down hard against the bed. A hand reached out to massage her breast. He found her neck just below the collar with his mouth and trailed little kisses down to the base, swirling his tongue all the while in tiny circular motions. So gentle. He felt her respond and smiled to himself. He positioned himself down next to her his head resting on one arm and almost laughed out loud as he saw her physically steel herself against him. It wouldn't last. She couldn't get up. He'd only force her back down. But silently she swore she would not give into his gentleness. She tensed her body.
Death caught a nipple in his mouth and teased it to erection, suckling it softly. He ran a hand down her stomach, and just brushing her private area, swept it across her thigh. With his heightened senses he could see her relax ever so slightly. He moved his hand between her legs, sucking on her other nipple, arousing it like its twin. She kept her legs pressed tightly together, but as he stroked her wet lips with his middle finger, he felt her relax even further. He kept up his stroking for a moment or two longer and then found the clitoris. Prying open the folds of skin hiding the treasure, he went to work, teasing, stroking, demanding it to swell beneath his fingers. He felt her hips rise just an inch at the pressure he kept up. One more sign he would win.
She was weakening under his experienced touch. Waves of pleasure were engulfing her as he kept up his insistent pressure. Using his first and second finger now he swirled around her clitoris a little more swiftly, a little harder. Her hips moved again under his touch. She couldn't deny him now. The pleasure he was giving her was too great, too overwhelming. It smothered her in sensation. She knew she should stop him and her hand grabbed at his working arm. He let her reach for him, but did not let up. Continuing to stroke and tease he positioned himself part way over her body till his face was inches from hers. Gently he kissed her lips. She moaned and opened her mouth to him. It was all the encouragement he needed. His kissed her passionately, all the while fingering her clit, circling and circling her to climax.
"You're liking this, aren't you?" he asked. It was more of a command than a question. She said nothing. "Tell me ya like what I'm doing to ya." he demanded. She couldn't help herself at this point. Her mind told her not to give in, to stop him, but her body refused to listen. Wave after wave of enjoyment wrapped around her. She couldn't tell where it would end. "Yes." she whispered through clenched teeth. "Tell me what you want me to keep doing." He kept it up, knowing she would answer him. "You don't want me to stop, do you?" he threatened, pulling his hand away slightly. "NO" she almost screamed.
"Then tell me what I want to hear." he insisted.
"Keep touching me. Don't stop."
He laughed. "Good enough." He kissed her again and brought her to climax. She let out a long low sigh as sensation took over, wave after wave of pleasure shooting up through her brain. Over and over it came, again and again. One orgasm after another. "Oh God." she whispered. "Oh God, I never knew." Death slowed his pace, stroking gently as he saw she was spent. He felt the sticky warmth of her and smiled. She was his to control. He smiled again as he watched her trying not to stretch, trying not to languish in the feelings left behind by his strokes. He bent to kiss her again, expecting her to open up to him willingly.
"Haven't you done enough?" she asked, looking up at him. "You've won. Can't you just leave me alone now?" The words hit him like a slap in the face. Still defiant. Even after all the pleasure he had just given her.
"I'll leave when I damn well please!" He spoke harshly, and bending down he bit one of her nipples sharply. Tears well up in her eyes. She wouldn't cry. She couldn't. He was going to take her again. He was going to stay all night. Raping her again and again. She couldn't bare it. Tears began to roll down her cheeks. She couldn't stop them, so she twisted her head back and toward the wall, hoping he wouldn't see. She cried softly stifling sobs with her hand.
Death continued to bite her nipples, one then the other, caressing the breasts savagely, giving no mercy. He would take her again and again. Until she was broken. Every defiant word expunged from her. She would call him Master. And then....maybe then he'd be gentle with her. So intent on breaking her he neither heard nor saw her crying. It wasn't until the moment he was ready to enter her that he looked at her face and saw the silent tears flowing across her cheeks. A feeling of remorse and then one of protection came over him. And then astonishment at his undoing. "Not that." he thought. "Anything but tears." He rolled off her and got to his feet. If she had only tried to fight him off again. But he couldn't prevail against her tears. He snarled at her as she turned her body to the wall. He could tell by her posture that she didn't want him to see her cry. And he knew that he had hurt her more than any "training session" that had been or would be. He had taken everything from her. Even her pride. She had nothing left but her tears. A pang of guilt went through him and he growled. He would not feel this guilt. He may burn in Hell for what he had done to her, but he wouldn't feel remorse. He was a killer. Killer's never regret. He grabbed at his clothing and stalked to the door. Over his shoulder he said,
"I'll take you down tomorrow and the next day. I will always beat you." But with his retreat he knew she had won this battle. But not the war. Never the war.

 

Chapter Two

She awoke to a pounding headache and a wracking cough. Pain seared through her body. The cracked rib felt like a knife cutting through her lungs. Weakly she put a hand to her forehead. It was boiling. And yet she felt chills seizing her. Fever. She was very ill. "Good." she thought. They had pushed too much. She would die now and they couldn't prevent it. She let out a sigh deep and low. And then a fit of coughing took hold of her. She fainted from the pain.
A short time later the door slid open and a guard walked in carrying the familiar black leotard. He shook her roughly in disgust. The consort of Death indeed. She was just a sickly girl. No survivor. Certainly not one of the strong. Hopefully they'd kill her soon.
"Get up!" He said harshly. "Get dressed. It's time for the training."
She opened her eyes and coughed. "I can't." she said with some difficulty. "I'm sick. Probably dying. Leave me here."
The guard grabbed her arms pulling her to her feet. "You'll not die here." he shouted. "That is Death's job. Now get dressed!"
She was standing now, unsteadily, swaying slightly from side to side. Her head throbbed even more. Blood caked the back of her skull where her head had hit the wall. More caked blood was seen between her legs on the inner thighs where Death had ravaged her brutally. Her face was swollen and her eyes sunken. Ugly bruises dotted her body along with a few bloody lacerations.
"She was dying." thought the guard, caught in a moment of pity. But he steel himself immediately. "Put this on." he ordered, handing her the new black leotard. "Quickly. The Master waits, and he's an impatient man."
She laughed then, hoarsely. "He's already killed me. I suppose his impatience will only cause you suffering." She took a deep painful breath. Talking wasn't a good idea at that moment. It only caused more pain to shoot through her body. But she was defiant still. And she had little to loose.
The guard, angered at the truth of her words, meant to strike her. But he stopped in time, realizing the blow might cause her death. He would be severely punished if the Master found out he had killed her. He lowered his hand quickly. "Get dressed." he repeated. He knew to stay and watch her. She might pass out again, making Apocalypse wait even longer.
Slowly, painfully she stepped into the leotard, pulling it up to her waist. Coughing ripped through her body once again and she reached for the guard, trying to leverage herself so she wouldn't fall. He steadied her, letting the fit pass, and then reached for the material at her waist. He forced it up, throwing her hands through the straps. "There." he said. "Get moving." He pushed her sharply towards the door.
The walk to the arena seemed endless. She stumbled several times, once completely falling to the floor in agony. She was so certain she wouldn't make it. But the guard pulled her up roughly and pushed her further down the hall. Finally she reached the door to the arena. It slid open without a sound and she was forced into the room. Death stood across the room in his familiar fighting pose. She tripped as she went through the door, falling to her knees. Death didn't move. The man in the gallery said nothing. She was seized by another wrack of coughing, this time spitting out blood. She slumped to the floor, still awake, but unable to focus as the two men began to speak.
"She's dying." Death spoke with a fatality in his voice.
"Yes, she is." Agreed the man from above. "It would seem your passion was too much for her."
"She's no good to you dead." He felt a twinge of pity for the girl, realizing that the blow to the head she had received when he threw her against the wall was the cause of her dying. He knew the Master could heal her, almost hoping he might. He suppressed those feelings quickly. She wasn't strong enough. She should die.
"On the contrary, it may be safer for me that she die. She has the potential within her to defeat me."
Death was shocked. His Master had admitted to weakness. He could be defeated. It seemed impossible.
"What is her power?" He asked. "Why do ya keep her from using it here? I'm able to use mine against her. Never seemed like a fair fight."
"Had I taken the inhibitor collar off her neck, you would have defeated her anyway. She is unaware of her mutation."
Astonished Death said, "Then why make her fight. She's no harm to you if she doesn't even know she's a mutant."
"Because Xavier and his ilk might find her and train her. I brought her here to make her fight to make her stronger. I give her the choice. Either become strong, or die. And become strong without powers."
A weak cough came from Aerin. Death looked at her. Strange feelings rose up inside him, feelings thought long dead. A need to protect her almost overwhelmed him. He pushed it down. He was a killer. He murdered without remorse. So she was to die. Why should he want her to live?
The man in the gallery spoke as if reading his thoughts. "I told you she might control you. You feel something for her. You want her to live." he challenged.
"No." Death countered. "She doesn't control me. She's weak and she's dying. If that's her fate, tough break."
"I could give you the power to save her. I told you before that you would bring her to the brink of death, and then save her life. And I warned you she might gain power over you because of that action. If I gave you the power to save her now, would you use it?"
Death hesitated. He knew it was a test. If he grasped for the chance to restore her, his feelings for the girl, might come bubbling to the surface. But if he let her die feelings of remorse might take him. Fealty, he thought. Loyalty to the Master. That was what was important here. It was not up to him to decide her fate. It was up to the Master.
"Only if you wish it, Master. Her life is yours to take." He knew this was right. Apocalypse would decide. He waited with baited breath for the answer.
"Very good." said the man gleefully. "You are correct. Her life is ultimately mine. But I give her to you to control. You must not let her strike out at me. That is your task. She must pledge fealty to me and only me. Can you make her obey you?"
Death's answer came without hesitation. "She'll obey me or die."
"Very well. Take off the inhibitor collar and place a hand on her." commanded Apocalypse.
Death walked tentatively over to the still form of the girl. She had fallen into a supine position. Her eyes were open and glazed, seeing nothing. He watched her for a moment, waiting for a breath, thinking she might already be dead. But a breath escaped her. It was shallow, but she was breathing. So near to the end he mused. Very close. He bent down over her and removed the collar. He placed a hand on her shoulder. At first nothing happened, then he felt a shiver down his spine and a sense of power leaving him. His power. She was draining him. He fell back.
"She absorbs power. Like Rogue." He said in amazement.
"Have you lost you memories, or gone unconscious?" Queried En Sabah Nur.
"No."
"She absorbs only the powers of a mutant, takes them into her and mimics them, making them her own. Watch and see."
Death felt his power returning. She didn't take it away, she merely made a copy of it. He looked at her. Powerful indeed. If she could stand the powers she took into her. If those powers didn't consume her or drive her insane. She was starting to heal. The coughing had stopped. Her color was coming back and her breathing was becoming even and unlabored. Her facial swelling was dissipating as he watched. The bruises turned an ugly shade of yellow and then disappeared. Her eyes closed and she sighed.
"When she seems fully recovered, put the collar back on. Your mutation is hers now too. Every time you remove the collar, she will be restored. It is I suspect her first time to encounter a mutant with her gift. It is why she doesn't believe she is a mutant." Apocalypse was explaining. Death looked up at him. "Imagine a girl who comes into puberty with the genetic ability to copy other mutant powers. But ironically she never comes in contact with a mutant. Until now. She wouldn't know. She would be oblivious to the fact that she herself was a mutant. But sooner or later she would meet someone, touch him or her and take their gift for herself. I couldn't allow a chance encounter. One meeting with a powerful mutant, Nate Grey for instance, and she could have the power to defeat me. I want her for my own plans. Her genetic makeup is strong like yours. A mating between you two could produce powerful offspring. She must be controlled."
Death nodded. He looked at the girl again. She was nearly healed. In a moment he would place the collar back on her. But now he watched her body recover its beauty. Desire stirred in him. Powerful enough to be his mate. Powerful enough to rule beside him and his Master. She opened her eyes and quickly he snapped the collar back on before she even had a chance to get her barring.
She felt good. Really good. Better than she'd ever felt really. Unpolluted. But something wasn't right. She looked around quickly. No. NO! It hadn't been a nightmare. She was here, in this arena and there was the man who had tormented her day after day. She put a hand to her mouth groaning. NO! Her mind screamed again. And then it came back to her. She had been ill. She had been dying and now somehow they had brought her back, had healed her. She could breath without pain. Her headache was gone. How? How could they do this? And why had they not let her die?
She looked wildly at Death. Anger and hatred boiled up to the surface. "Why?" she asked through gritted teeth. And then she screamed at him, "WHY?!" He only stared at her gravely.
Apocalypse laughed. "It seems she's not grateful for having been revived."
Death looked up at him. "She'll learn gratitude. She'll be grateful for everyday I allow her to live."
Apocalypse laughed again. "Then by all means, teach her."
Without a word Death sprang toward Aerin. But she was ready for him. The anger and hatred drove her to a ferociousness she hadn't thought possible. Yet her mind stayed clearly focused on her one goal: KILL HIM. She stepped to the left as he swung out at her and placed a well-timed kick to his belly. Then as he fell back she jumped and bringing both legs together she landed on his chest. His back met the floor and she hoped to hear a crack of bones in his rib cage. Unfortunately she was unaware of the adamantium that laced his skeleton, and instead of crushing his sternum the impact buckled her legs underneath her. Momentarily dazed by the pain shooting up through her calves and thighs, Death was able to throw her off. She rolled back, quickly lunging to the right, barely missing the three steel claws he had unsheathed in his anger. She brought her leg out, swiping his calf, and again he went back. Before she knew what she was doing, before she could even think, she grabbed his arm with the unsheathed claws and drove them into his side. Blood gushed out. Death went down like a rock to his knees pulling the claws out. Gore came with them.
"DIE!" She screamed at him. "DIE, YOU SON OF A BITCH! I WOULD HAVE DIED! THIS NIGHTMARE WOULD HAVE ENDED! BUT YOU BROUGHT ME BACK! NOW YOU DIE OLD MAN! I WIN THIS TIME!" She clenched her fist watching him. He should have passed out by now. But he was still on his knees, blood and gore oozing from his right side. Liver, pancreas, colon, intestines, diaphragm, lung. She should have hit several of these organs. Enough to cause multiple organ failure. But he was miraculously still alive and perversely grinning up at her.
"Real good, girl." He wheezed. "Real good. If not for my healing factor and enhancement from him," he nodded toward Apocalypse, "I'd be in for it."
She watched in horror as he staggered to his feet holding his right side with his left hand. "Just give me a minute and I'll be better 'n new."
Her mind raced. She couldn't give him that minute. She ran at him, slamming with all her force into his side. He stumbled sideways and she ran at him again, punching his wound over and over, giving him no chance to recover. It was working. She was beating him down. She would win. She would kill him. Rage and instinct took over. Until suddenly, he disappeared. She fell forward into the open space that he had filled. Sprawled across the floor breathing heavy, she lay drained and confused. Until she heard the sadistic laughter from the man in the gallery. She got to her knees glaring at him. "Where is he?" she demanded.
"Safe for now." He said simply.
"I was WINNING!" She shouted up at him. "Let me at him! Let me finish him!" Tears of frustration well up in her eyes. She swiped them away.
"You were winning. Perhaps you would have killed him. I doubt it. But you did well. I was particularly impressed by the way you used his own weapon against him. You are stronger than you think. Giving in to the anger and rage gave you the advantage. Learn from that. Perhaps next time I will let you finish him. But for now I want the First of my Horsemen alive."
"And what now? Back to my cell?" She asked savagely.
"I could ask you to join me. When the Age of Apocalypse comes to pass, only the strong will survive. And they will pledge their fealty to me. They will rule these paltry humans. You could be among them. You have the potential to become a powerful mutant."
"I...Am...Not...A...Mutant!" She vehemently denied, emphasizing every word. "And even if I were, what makes you think I would follow a sick sadistic monster like you!"
"You have been unaware of your mutation since it manifested. If it's proof you want, I shall give it to you in time. As to why you should join me....?" He paused making sure he had her full attention. "Because we are family, Granddaughter."
It took her several seconds to absorb these last words. "You lie!" she spat when she fully understood what he had revealed. "You lie!" she repeated.
"In time you will have your proof. Once you've realized your only path lies with me. Pledge fealty and all will be revealed. Continue to deny me and my patience will run thin. You will die. I give you this choice. Take Death as your Master. Let him train you in fighting and surviving. Give into the conditioning and you will rule beside me. You will bear him mutant sons who will also rule beside me. Continue to fight and you will only bring about your downfall. I will have your genetic code either way."
There was a long pause. Aerin stared at him with hatred making certain he would hear what she had to say. "Kill me now. I will NEVER follow you!"
"You are angry. I have patience. I will not accept this answer at this time. I give you three days. In three days you will return here to give me your final answer. If it is the same, then Death will live up to his name. His claws will rend you from head to foot. I will not stop him." Apocalypse said this calmly, with fatal certainty. Then he added, "In the meantime, he will come to your cell every night to...convince you."
At that he turned and left the gallery leaving her no time for a retort. The door to the arena slid open and several guards entered. More than usual. Perhaps the man in the gallery was taking no chances. She had almost done it. She had almost killed Death. A little more time, just a few minutes more and she would have. She was certain of it. But that little man had said he would come to her cell later. How was it possible? He was near death when he vanished. Her mind raced. Mutant, healing factor. That's what he had said. He had a "healing" factor. It must have meant he could heal from his wounds. And maybe he had used it on her. Maybe that's why she was still alive.
"Well," she thought, "three more days and it won't matter. My answer will be the same and he'll kill me." She let the guards lead her back to her prison.

 

Chapter Three

She circled her cell for the tenth time. Door, bed, door, bed. Nothing of use here. The room was she guessed about ten feet by ten feet. Not much room to maneuver. She circled again. And then looked at the bed. Nope. No use wishing she could throw the whole thing at him. It was bolted to the floor and walls. What could she do? He'd be here soon. Or maybe his healing factor had run out. Maybe he was dead. A wave of hope went through her. Then she slumped on the bed. No use in wishful thinking, either. It hadn't worked so far. He'd be here again wanting to "convince" her to join that mad man. She looked at the door and a thought occurred. She had several times slammed him back using her body. If she were to surprise him as he entered, maybe, just maybe she could be out the door before he could recover. How long before he caught her down the hall? Where exactly would she run too? It was ridiculous. It was a one in a million chance that she'd find her way out of here. And what would be outside? She had no idea where on this earth she was. With even the smallest amount of technology she had been a witness to she surmised she could have been brought anywhere. Antarctica? An island in the Pacific? Was she even on earth?
But she had to do something. She was going crazy with the waiting. She would poise herself on the bed she thought, giving her leverage to spring at him. She tried a couple of practice leaps. One, two, three large steps she was at the door. She hoped from foot to foot giving a couple of practice jabs. "Yeah. Yeah. Who's the tough one?" she said out loud. And then she gave a snicker. Yes she was getting hysterical. "Let's just get this over with, will you?" she asked looking at the ceiling suddenly feeling exposed. What if they were watching her. She couldn't put it passed them. She sat back down on the bed and poised to strike.
To keep herself alert she began to sing all the Third Eye Blind songs she could remember. But a line from a 'Til Tuesday song kept perversely running through her head: "And he knows just what he wants to day. And I could just let it happen, yeah." It rang over and over in her mind no matter how hard she tried to suppress it. Finally she sang it out loud, wondering if he would hear. The music stopped. The waiting was getting worse. Sheer boredom was draining her. Her plan began to seem more and more hopeless. He'd be on her in no time. Along with being impossibly strong, he was incredibly fast. She'd get maybe five feet down the hall she guessed. And then there'd be pain for certain.
She sat for awhile staring at the door. Then she thought about provoking him. If she could get him angry enough perhaps he'd put those claws through her heart and get this over with tonight. It'd be better than this waiting. Three more days the man in the gallery had said. Three days to decide. Well she'd made her decision. All the more reason not to have to wait. She looked at the bed. She was getting tired. Her muscles ached from the physical exertion she had endured today. She didn't know about other women, but throwing her whole weight against a man was tough on her body. Her hands hurt too where she had cuffed him. She lay down on the bed facing the door. She watched it for a long time before finally dozing off.
Sometime later her eyes opened slowly adjusting to the dim light and she saw he was there in the doorway watching her. She wondered how long he had been there. His anger was palpable and controlled. She lay very still hoping that he hadn't seen her open her eyes. He said nothing. She looked at him as he glared down at her. He wasn't a very handsome man. He was short. Some might call him stocky. But he was powerfully built. She had felt that much in their first night together. And he was hairy. Hairier than most men. And on most men it would have been revolting. But it seemed to suit him. Made him even more seemingly wild. She thought about running her fingers through that hair. Shocked, she mentally shook her head. She was going insane. She was admitting to an attraction to a killer. One that could be her complete undoing or her death.
"You know, girl, I don't surprise that easy." he was saying as she suddenly realized he had been speaking to her. He knew she was awake. Probably knew the entire time. "But you got the jump on me. Used my own claws against me. No one's ever done that before. Ever." He let the last word hang in the air like a threat. "I have to admire the brains and guts it took to do that. And the ability to think on yer feet like that. But I don't have to like it. Took me longer 'n usual to heal."
He paused, looking at her intently. "Won't make that mistake twice. Now get up and take off your clothes." he ordered her harshly. She looked at him for a minute before pointedly turning to face the wall. Now was the time to see that anger unfold. To provoke it into action. She felt a hand entangle in her hair and was unceremoniously pulled from the bed. She dropped to the floor with a yelp. She lay face up peering into his angry eyes full of lust and violence. "Ya think I don't know what yer tryin' to do?" He asked. With out waiting for her to speak he said, "Yer hoping to get me angry enough so I'll pop my claws and do you a favor. But ch'er wrong, girl. I won't kill you till He says to. However," he smiled, "I might beat ya to the edge of death, making you wish for it, and bring you back all nice and healed. And then do it again."
It took a moment for the truth of his words to sink in. They had restored her today. She had been nearing her last breath. She had been dying. Only minutes away from the grave and they had saved her life. And she had felt even better than when this whole torturous chain of events had started. She rose slowly to her feet. Her scalp tingled where he had grasped it. She knew she could not bare his threat. Being brought back again and again until she broke. He'd definitely break her that way. He'd have her begging him to kill her and then, when he wouldn't oblige, begging him to fuck her, just to stop the torture. She had no choice. She put a hand to her shoulder and hesitantly began stripping off her leotard.
He stepped back leaning against the door crossing his arms. A smug look on his face told her his anger was relenting a bit. She watched him cautiously for a moment as she undressed and then without thinking her eyes went down to see his arousal pushing the ram's skull slightly to the side. He missed nothing. "Like what you see, darlin'?" he grinned. She blushed furiously turning her head away. She said nothing and continued to pull down the leotard exposing her taut young form. He gazed at her admiring her beauty. Such a look of fragility, thin with a full set of creamy white breasts. More than a mouthful each one. Her belly wasn't quite flat, but it pleased him just the same. "Women needed a little meat on 'em," he thought. Her long blonde hair swished with every movement gleaming even in the dim light. And down between her legs a velvet crush of blonde hair hiding the treasure she so tried to protect. He felt his desire increase.
She stepped out of the leotard, purposely trying not to look at him. She knew she'd only give him satisfaction as her eyes wandered down to his groin of their own volition. He smiled again as she turned her back on him, giving him a lovely view of her full ripe bottom. She was folding up the leotard and neatly placing it on the bed. Stalling, he realized amused. With an air of finality she turned back to him waiting. With a great effort she kept her eyes on his face. He made her wait, while he took in the view. She let her arms hang at her sides in defiance. She wouldn't be ashamed. This was not her fault. She had not asked for this. But her clenched fists betrayed her deeper emotions: shame, sadness, bitterness, hatred.
Without warning he stepped to her and pulled her to him. Turning to his right he backed her up against the wall. With one hand wrapped securely around her waist, he used his other to unclasp his loincloth. The cloth and the ram's skull clattered to the floor and he kicked it away violently. Through a slit in his outfit his erect penis shot out. She felt it press against her stomach as he crushed against her. A small shiver of terror went through her. He kissed her softly on the shoulder and then bit into her. She started from surprise, but he held her firmly in place, biting and nipping at her shoulder and neck, just below the collar. Then, with his need rising he took both her buttocks in his hand and pulling her up he held her over his cock. He was so strong, so powerful. His manhood pressed into her vagina seeking entrance and he let gravity pull her down slowly over his shaft. Not quite ready for him she gasped in pain through gritted teeth. Her palms pressed rigidly against the wall refusing to touch him. Sensing her pain he kept himself still inside her and taking his right hand he massaged her clitoris to dampen her. He was soon rewarded by the feel of her moisture on his fingers. He returned his hands to her buttocks and pulled out of her until the head of his penis was resting against her clit. Then he thrust roughly back into her slamming her against the wall with the weight of his body. In and out he thrust, using his hardness to punish and break her to his will. The girl had bested him, he raged, driving into her even harder. She needed to pay for that.
Aerin kept silent, biting her tongue and the inside of her cheek to keep from yelling out, cursing him. She felt each thrust painfully, aware of his anger. A tear of frustration and sadness rolled down her cheek dropping onto the top of his head pressed hard against her shoulder, his mouth continuing to bite and graze. He growled deep in his throat. Has his anger gave way to ecstasy he slowed his rhythm trying to prolong his pleasure. But his need was too great. With a roar he plunged into her a final time. His seed shot up into her, filling her channel and running down along his penis out onto her legs. Aerin took a silent breath, feeling him go limp inside of her. But she knew it wasn't over. Not yet. Not for a long time. He would stay the night. Her tears wouldn't drive him away this time.
He kept her pinned to the wall for what felt like hours. Impaled on him, her legs began to cramp as she stood on her toes unable to place her feet completely on the floor. She was sore inside, feeling a raw burning sensation. And he was coming to life again. She wasn't knowledgeable on a man's anatomy, but instinct told her that this erection so close to having spilled his seed was unnatural. But he was a mutant. No telling what he was capable of. She braced herself for another onslaught of his passion.
Surprisingly he pulled out of her with great effort. His rage had left him, and now he was determined to bring her over to his master's side. You catch more flies with honey he mused. Swiftly he swooped her up into his arms and laid her down gently on the bed. Then he undressed watching with amusement as she clenched her fists, digging the nails into the palms of her hands. Her face was turned to the wall and her eyes were shut tight. He could see drops of tears gleaming on her cheek and he felt a sharp pang of guilt. He suppressed it quickly. What he was going to do now would more than make up for her tears and pain. He finished pulling off his leotard and moved to the end of the bed. Her knees were bent up, shut tightly together. He placed one of his knees on the edge of the bed and both hands on either of her kneecaps. Pushing her apart he felt resistance at first, then he felt her give up. He smiled to himself. She really had little choice. He had the upper hand.
She prepared for him to enter her, steeling herself mentally, while trying to relax her body hoping to lessen the pain his thrusts would cause. But she sat up quickly when she felt his mouth on her thigh. What was he doing? Her clitoris throbbed and she felt a warmth growing inside. He placed a hand on her belly forcing her back down and began to gently bite and lick at her thigh bringing his mouth down lower and lower. Then he moved to her other thigh. She swallowed hard has she felt his hot breath on her mound. She wasn't prepared for this. Unable to prevent it, she felt her own desire rising. He continued to lick and nip at her thighs, going from one to the other, teasing her. When he felt he could stand it no more he bent his face to her labia and pressed his tongue into her moist opening tasting her sweetness. It was too much for her and she arched her back bringing herself closer to his swirling tongue. He was heady with her scent. So fresh and clean. Innocent. Remembering it was all new to her he forced himself to be tender. Gently he explored her with his tongue and teeth. He circled her clit with his tongue over and over. He was rewarded with her rocking up and down, unable to help herself. Waves of warmth and ecstasy rolled over her. She silently cursed her desire, but the emotions were too strong to keep still. He moved is tongue down to her vaginal lips, tasting her again, filled with her warmth, his own need coming to a head. His arms had been wrapped around her thighs keeping her in place. But he realized at that moment there was no need to entrap her. She wouldn't bolt. He smiled to himself again. Then taking a finger he circled her anus. At this action she attempted to pull away, but he held her firmly with his other hand, continuing to tongue her. She felt his finger move up to her vagina and he moistened it with her juices. Then sliding it back down to her anal opening he pressed against her.
"No!" she cried. He couldn't do that. It was wrong. He was insistent, though, pushing into her rectum. She squirmed under the pressure. But as his finger passed through her sphincter and he continued lapping vigorously at her clit she spasm as an orgasm hit her shooting up through her brain. "Ahhhhhh" she moaned. He began to slowly thrust his finger in and out of her. She pushed violently against him as she climaxed again. Suddenly she felt a huge wave of disappointment and emptiness as he pulled his finger out and stopped the ministrations of his tongue. But then he was over her, arms on either side of her holding himself above her. She arched her hips up to him as she felt the head of his manhood teasing her opening. He kept it there for a long moment looking at her face. Her head was thrown back, her eyes remained shut and she was running the tip of her tongue along her upper lip. Those lips looked so sweet to Death. He wanted to kiss them but he held back. She inched down the bed underneath him trying to push him inside her. But he smiled down at her and drew back refusing to satisfy her need.
She was aching for him now. Wanting him in her. All thoughts of defiance had left her, banished by her lust. She couldn't fight him now. But why was he denying her? She could feel his own arousal. Tentatively she lifted a hand to his cock, touching the sensitive flesh underneath. Death shuddered closing his eyes. She may never have had a man before, but somehow she knew instinctively where to touch him heightening his arousal. She continued to stroke him for a moment. Then becoming bolder, she grasped him tightly and guided him to her entrance. He let her pull it toward her and then with a sweet cruelty he forced her hand away. He wanted her to beg.
"Tell me ya want me." he whispered. "Beg me to put it in ya. I know ya want it, darlin'. Just say the word."
She cursed him mentally, but sighed, "Please." Her voice was husky with desire. He suppressed a moan. But his member inched forward into her. He held it just inside her. He wasn't going to let her off so easy.
"Tell me what you want me to do to you." he ordered. "Please." she said again.
"That's not good enough. Tell me what you want." He ordered again more commanding this time.
"I..." she hesitated. He pulled out of her and she said rapidly, "I want you in me. I want you to fuck me!" she spat in anger. "Take me over and over till I scream, you heartless bastard!"
He laughed at her raging. He had pushed a little too hard, bringing her defiance and fight back to the surface. But she still couldn't deny her need for him. He slid into her. She gasped with surprise and pleasure. As he began to plunge in and out she thrust her own hips to meet his pace. She moaned as he took her. Her head was spinning and she felt the waves of passion surging up her spine to impact with her skull. Her body shuddered over and over. And as he came in her again she came with him, pressing her body as close as she could to his, clinging to him, wanting to melt into him. He fell against her on the bed as he spent the last of his semen into her. He was crushing her, and she felt almost breathless, but she couldn't move him, finding she didn't really want to anyway. Her body tingled. It was all so unbelievable, so unreal. Then he was looking up at her, kissing her chin, stroking her cheek. She looked into his eyes unable to believe the tenderness that was there. He kissed her mouth, gently coaxing her to open. He kissed her passionately, pulling her tongue into his. Then he rolled off of her and turning her to face the wall he wrapped her in his powerful arms and held her tight. Unable to help herself she pressed back against him, feeling his arousal in the small of her back. He was insatiable. But he simply held her for a long time saying nothing. She felt delirious in the warmth coming from his body. And drowsy, drained. She rested her head against the bed and closed her eyes.
She was half-asleep when he began to run his hand along her side. She stirred with reluctance, not wanting to come out of the blissful half sleep. But he was touching her softly, tenderly, exploring her body, drawing her back to a passion she couldn't deny. His hand cupped a breast, rubbing the nipple to life. Then he rolled her to face him. He kissed her cheek, then her nose and eyes, then her mouth, taking her again into a passionate embrace. He rolled on top of her and went into her again. She felt raw inside and she was certain she wouldn't be able to climax again. But she was wrong. He took her tenderly. Slow gentle thrusts sliding against her womanhood bringing her over the edge. She cried out as he pushed deeply inside her climaxing himself. And then one orgasm after another pound into her. Soon, she fell back away from him spent.
"Please." she begged him. "I...I'm.." unable to finish her plea. But he nodded in understanding and again wrapped her in his arms crushing her to him. She was asleep in minutes. Her soft breasts rising and falling against his arms. He took one in his hand and gently stroked it. He heard her moan in her sleep. He wanted her again. His member, hard and alive prodded her back. Without thinking he stroked her rear, circling her anus. A thought came to him, but he forced it away. He wanted all of her, yet in her innocence he knew she wasn't ready for all of his explorations. That could drive her into madness. A feeling of protection came over him and he pulled her closer to him. There was time enough to let her sleep. Then he could satisfy his desire once again. He kissed her lightly on the back, then closed his eyes, practicing a meditation to force back his desire. Moments later the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest signaled his sleep.
Death awoke to find Aerin lying on her stomach, one leg pulled up and a fist raised to her mouth. Her head rested on her other arm. He looked at her longingly and felt himself stir to life. But he continued to watch her ignoring his need for the moment. Apocalypse had chosen well. This girl so full of fighting spirit and a will to survive that almost surpassed his own. She was a perfect match for him. She was beautiful without a doubt, but an unusual beauty, one that radiated from within. She had fought him courageously and had almost taken his life. She had done something no one had ever done to him in any scrap he had ever been in. She had forced his claws into him, using them against him. He had never even imagined that could happen. But it had, and he had been furious. Not only at her, but also at himself, for never having been prepared for this action. He should have seen it coming. Well, he would be prepared in the future. But now looking back on what she had accomplished he found himself proud of her, respecting her as a warrior. Imagining the potential in her. He would train her well. He had little doubt in his mind he was subduing her to his will. He would train her in all the fighting arts he had mastered. With her mutant power, she could be a powerful ally. He would need to expose her to a telepath. That would give her a killing edge. To know the mind of an opponent before they could strike. Jean Grey or Charles Xavier would be his choice. Her gift was unlimited. Any mutant she came in contact with could give her more abilities than he could dream of. Even Apocalypse was wary of this girl. His own healing factor coursed through her now, with heightened senses and strength. Perhaps Apocalypse could even lace her bones with adamantium.
He shook the thought out of his head. No. He would never subject her to that kind of torture. Not now. The wave of protection he had felt for her came flooding back. He had barely survived the bonding process himself, and it had nearly driven him insane from the pain. Strong as she was, he was certain she could not survive the procedure. He tensed slightly at the realization he was falling for her as Apocalypse had warned. But the realization no longer angered him. He would remain in control. He knew this instinctively. She would do as he ordered. A little more time here and she would succumb to his wants and desires. And the killer in him knew she would die if she did not obey him.
He began to stroke her back, laying soft kisses where his hand trailed. He moved up to the back of her neck feeling the inhibitor collar biting into her. He considered releasing her from it. With his healing factor she would have more stamina to keep up with him. She'd feel rejuvenated. But he let the thought go knowing she was not yet his to control and her increased strength might give her an advantage over him. She wouldn't be able to escape, but she could hurt him, and he didn't want to have to fight her right now. Better to be in complete control at this moment. He continued to run his hand down her back. She stirred a little, drawing her leg up even further. A whimper escaped her as a shiver ran through her and she cried softly, "No, please, no more." He blinked at that, thinking she was speaking to him, when suddenly he realized she was having a nightmare. A feeling of remorse came over him. She must have been dreaming of him, and it was unpleasant. He shook her gently to rouse her from her dreaming.
She had been having bad dreams and her sleep had been restless. She remembered little of the specifics of the dream, only that there had been wars and blood and gore. People hating and screaming, drowning out her own voice, pulling her down into a hell so real she cried in her sleep. And when a hand came down on her shoulder drawing her out of the nightmare, she pulled away in fear convinced she was going to be dragged back down into that hell. But Death threw an arm around her waist keeping her from pulling away further.
"Hush." he whispered in her ear. "It's just a dream." Her eyes snapped open, suddenly remembering where she was and she pushed back at him ready to fight. "Stop it." he growled holding her face down on the bed. "Just stop it." Sadness in his voice, almost a pleading, stopped her. She lay quietly waiting to see what he would do next, the fight gone out of her as she remembered his threat of violence. She couldn't win. Not now. Not here.
As she stilled under him he ran a hand almost lovingly down her hair. Then taking up where he had left off he began again kissing her back and stroking her gently. He was rewarded with a shudder. With out warning he rolled her onto her back and knelt above her straddling her hips. He bent down and kissed one breast and then the other, licking at the nipples, seeing them spring to life. Her eyes were closed and her lips were a little parted. He bent to those lips and touched them softly with his own. As he released her mouth he heard a small sigh of disappointment come from her lips. He smiled and said, "I want you to touch me." When he felt her hesitation he took one of her hands and wrapped it around his stiffening cock. It was his turn to shudder. And he let out a groan. Not wanting her to let go he kept his hand on hers testing her defiance. When he was certain she'd keep her hand where he wanted it, he began to move it up and down along his hard thickness, teaching her what to do. She obeyed him, soon moving her hand of her own volition, exploring him, teasing him, filling him with desire. He dropped his own hand away and bent his head back, closing his eyes enjoying her touch immensely. He felt her fingers rub the tip of the head and he grunted. Down her hand went over the sensitive underside all the way to his testicles, then up again circling the head with her fingers. She was driving him wild. Up and down she went impulsively slowing then speeding up her rhythm bringing him to ecstasy. He felt the beginning of his orgasm as a drop of pre-cum forced its way out of his penis. Suddenly he pushed her hand away and lowered himself between her breasts. He clapped them together engulfing his shaft and began to thrust back and forth fervently. He came within minutes shooting his seed onto her neck and shoulders, her mouth and eyes and cheeks. As he finished coming he encircled her breasts with his hands and rewarded each with a kiss. Then he knelt above her idly stroking her chest. He watched her tongue slip out of her mouth tasting his sperm as curiosity got the better of her. She frowned at the taste and he laughed heartily. "Not much of a meal, darlin'." He laughed again as she blushed. Rising from the bed he scooped up his discarded loincloth and gently wiped her face clean of the product of his desire. When he had finished, she looked up at him, a face so full of longing and sadness that his heart missed a beat. He placed a lingering kiss on her lips. Then without thinking unclasped the collar from her neck, dropping it to the floor.
She raised her hands to her throat massaging the soreness. Within moments the redness and pain left her. She stared at him in amazement, feeling incredibly alive. Energy surged through her. The rawness of her vaginal walls began to dissipate and then disappear altogether. How was he doing this? she wondered. It had to be the healing factor he possessed, but how did he manifest it in others?
All thoughts left her in a rush as she felt his hand dip between her legs. Her eyes were on him as he slid into her, hard once again. She gave into the crashing emotions, as he took her, dancing that ancient dance once again. She came alive in his arms giving into the sensations, feeling a sudden joy to be alive and to be here. She refused to think of the circumstances, knowing it would only weaken her enjoyment. Her body writhed against his trying to force him in as deep as he could go. He obliged thrusting deeper and faster, his breath coming in gasps at the force of her need. He had unwittingly unleashed a wildness within her and he grunted as she pulled him to her raking her nails across his back. Blood droplets appeared and then disappeared quickly as the scratches she left healed. She raised her head to his neck and bit into him. The sudden sharp sensation drove him on thrusting harder and faster, filling her to her core. But she met his pace with the same driving need until they came together in a torrent of emotions. In a fit of passion she screamed. He threw himself over her kissing her face, her throat, and her chest. Each kiss seared her flesh. She came again. And then again. She became dizzy at the thought that it wouldn't stop. Wave after wave of ecstasy crashing into her until finally she peaked and with a shudder and sob she fell back exhausted. Yet within a minute she could feel her fatigue leaving her. What had he done to her? She was coming to life again, needing him, wanting him.
Without thinking she reached for his cock and he laughed in amazement. She was ready for him again. He'd never witnessed his healing factor in this light, seeing a lover revive so quickly. He had been correct about her stamina. He let her guide him into her, feeling himself revive. They danced again. He took her several more times that night, until reason won out and they lay together spent. She had turned to the wall, but he silently, gently coaxed her back toward him asking with his body to be entwined with hers. As she rested her head on his chest he kissed the top of her head and became mesmerized by the rise and fall of her breath on his body. For a long while he looked at her, finally closing his eyes when he thought her asleep. Suddenly he felt her hand reach for his, her fingers curling around his own. It was a small insignificant gesture, easily dismissed by a less sensitive person. But he knew. He had won the war.

 

Chapter Four

She woke alone in the cold dim light. He had left without waking her and she felt vaguely annoyed and disappointed. But he had left her wrapped in a blanket and her head cradled on a pillow, showing some concern for her comfort. She rolled over on her left side pulling the cover tightly around her luxuriating in the warmth. It was amazing how something so simple could feel so wonderful. She raised her arms to stretch a little and felt the chill of the collar he had replaced around her neck. A flash of anger went through her. How could he? But she relented a little has she realized he wasn't in complete control of the situation. That man in the gallery was the one in real control. Perhaps Death feared punishment for removing the collar. She smiled at the thought of him fearing anything. He was pure strength. Pure courage. She sat up startled at her thoughts. She found things to admire in him. She admired him. After all he had done to her, all he had taken from her, how could she feel this way? But something had changed last night. His tenderness, his concern for her this morning. She was falling for him. She knew it in the depths of her soul. She was his and that man, his master, her "grandfather", had won. She grimaced. Distasteful, repugnant as the thought was, she knew, really knew that she would follow Death where he led.
Aerin smiled slightly knowing he would come for her tonight. She'd be willing under his guidance. It would be difficult to deny him anything. A thought came to her from a long forgotten trivial memory. A terrorist captive sometimes became sympathetic to the men holding them against their will. Had that happened here? she asked herself. Had she become sympathetic toward Death? Was that the cause of her growing admiration and infatuation. Perhaps. Perhaps she was just so tired of all the torture she was willing now to put herself in his control, making her life a little easier. But his gentleness toward her, his loving strokes that brought her body alive. She couldn't deny the arousal she felt. A warmth went through her as she remembered his touch and last night. And the way she had felt alive toward the end when he had removed her collar. She brushed it lightly, wondering why they kept it on her at all. A sign of her enslavement? She couldn't comprehend the buttons and notches she felt around its edge. Was it a way to control her somehow? The "Master" had called her a mutant. But she refused to believe his words. After all she was twenty-three. Mutants manifested their power in adolescence. Most people knew this. But she had had no power raging from her when she entered puberty. No ray beams shot from her eyes. No grotesque deformities grew out of her. No plasma bolts fired from her fingertips. She couldn't read minds. She couldn't control the elements or raise things off the ground with a thought. They must be wrong. Maybe they had mistaken her for someone else. Maybe they had gotten the name wrong. She snickered at that. All this mighty technology and they had gotten the wrong name, maybe the wrong address. No, she wasn't a mutant, and she wasn't the master's progeny either. They had to be wrong.
She rolled on her side, humming softly to herself, "Spend all your time waiting for that second chance..." The waiting would be difficult. Soon she was dosing.
She was awoken to a guard bringing her food. For the first time since she had been put here she ate ravenously. It wasn't much of a meal. Some sort of porridge, a few dates, a glass of water and a piece of bread. But to her it was like a steak dinner. She laughed at that thinking the first request she would ask of Death was a steak dinner. Under his control or not, surely he couldn't deny her a simple feast. And a shower. She knew she must reek from her sweat and dried blood, urine and filth. The cell had a small drain where a guard must have rinsed away her body elimination each day. But she had been left with nothing to clean herself. She wondered how Death could bare the smell of her night after night. Well, a willingness on her part to meet his demands and perhaps he'd be kind enough to fulfill her simple requests. She could but ask.
Death. She fell asleep again with his name on her lips and her dreams full of the sight of him, caressing her, needing her, loving her. Again she was awoken by food being brought. The guard silent and stern. The meal much the same as before, only an orange replacing the dates. Noonday meal? she asked herself. She wondered again when he would come. After dinner? She ate quickly, not really savoring her food this time. Then she stood up circling the room. Nothing to do but wait. She grabbed the black leotard off the bed and put it on. Each time the guard had entered the room she had stayed under the blanket. She had eaten with it wrapped securely around her. Now she had to do something. With a renewed energy brought on by the repast she felt an urge to exercise. She bent down onto the floor and began doing pushups. Then sit-ups. She stood again and practiced some lunges. It felt good to be doing something. Next she jogged along time around the room until she felt out of breath. She sat on the bed catching her breath. Then standing again she began to kick box at her shadow. Punch, punch, kick, kick, kick. She kept this up for several minutes. She wasn't in great shape and she soon had to catch her breath again. Working twelve-hour shifts at the hospital had made her lazy. Well, if she ever got out of here her lifestyle would change, she swore.
She lay down again. God, the waiting was driving her mad. But within minutes her eyes closed and she was dosing again.
She woke to silence. The dim light in her room had gone out and she could hear nothing. Occasionally she had heard guards marching past her door, or speaking outside in some strange language she couldn't understand. But now there was no sound. Not even the hum of the ventilation shaft she knew existed somewhere above her head, but couldn't see. A tremor of fear shot through her. Something was different. Something wasn't right. And still he had not come. She lay in the dark not moving. She couldn't see her hand in front of her face and this frightened her even more.
She lay on the bed for what seem like hours, her emotions alternating between terror and anger. And still he did not come. Had he forgotten her? Had she been discarded? Perhaps they had finally realized they had the wrong person. Why didn't he come? What if no one came? Two days, maybe three was all she had until dehydration killed her. How ironic she thought, to have fought day after day against an overwhelming opponent only to be left to die of starvation. Forgotten in a prison cell in God only knew what country. She began to weep softly, but forced herself to stop knowing she couldn't afford to lose the moisture. Maybe someone would come.
A few hours later she made her way to the door in a fit of anger. "Hey!" she yelled, hitting the door with her fists. "Is anyone there! Let me out!" She slammed her fists harder and harder unable to control the rising rage in her. "Open the door! For God sake, at least bring me some water!" No answer but the silence. Furious, her fists bruised by the battering, she slammed her body against the door, screaming in frustration. No one was there, she knew. No one was coming. Faster and faster she rammed the door, until her head impacted and she slumped to her knees, her brain ringing from the collision. She sobbed. She would die here. After a few minutes she crawled to the bed and climbing onto it fell into a fitful sleep.
Sadly, her assumption had been correct. She had been forgotten. Death, returning to his teammates at Charles Xavier's mansion, on a mission to collect Mikhail Rasputin had been trapped when his transmat teleportation device had been smashed by Cyclops, forcing him into the Morlock tunnels to escape his old friends. Several of the team had followed him into the tunnels seeking to save his soul and bring him out from under Apocalypse's conditioning. They had been successful and now having rejoined the X-men he was on his way to save the Twelve. Suppressing the Death persona deep into himself, he found his memories of the last few months garbled and vague. Least in his mind was a young girl he had been ordered to bend to his will.
Having not returned from his mission, the guards saw no reason to take care of Death's chosen consort. Apocalypse, busy with his own plans of bringing to life a universe in which he would rule supreme, had found her life insignificant. If Death did not return, there was no reason to keep her alive. And no reason to waste energy on killing her. He simply left her to starve alone in the dark, that portion of his fortress no longer needed. Energy rerouted to more important areas of the compound.
Again she had awoken to the darkness. The room had become warm and stifling. Weakly she threw off the blanket. Alone. She was completely alone. Weak, listless and dying of thirst. She had no tears left to cry. How long had she gone without water? Her lips felt cracked and raw. She ran her tongue over them. Not even a drop of saliva to ease the dryness. Her hunger was growing, but the thirst was unbearable. How long had she been asleep? Her eyes felt sunken in her head, but it didn't matter because there was nothing to see. Only the comforting darkness she thought deliriously. Her only companion with the silence. How long did she have? She mouthed a small prayer. Strange she hadn't prayed before during all this horrible mess. "Forgive me." she said to no one in particular. No miracle would save her. One more day and she'd be dead. This room her grave. With a moan and a sigh, she fell asleep. Her one true comfort now. Waiting only for death to take her.

 

Chapter Five

The man called Wolverine, Logan to his closest friends, stood a little apart from his teammates. Apocalypse was dead, his fortress in ruin, and his priests and skrull allies scattered. The X-men and their allies the only ones left to survey the rubble. Logan felt an eerie coldness as he looked on the place that had been his "home" for several months, under the control of Apocalypse. His memories of that time were still jumbled. Some of them gone. He looked over at Cyclops talking quietly to Jean Grey and Nate Grey. They were discussing the future of Nate's membership on the team, trying to convince him to join their cause. Logan felt it was fruitless. The kid had his own life to lead. He was independent. He couldn't work with a team.
A little way over Charles Xavier, having lost his wheelchair in the events, was being held by Piotr Rasputin as he spoke with Magneto, an old enemy and even older friend. Logan knew he was trying to persuade the white headed mutant to see reason. To use his newly acquired island of Genosha for the good of mutantkind. To work with the X-men and bring humans and mutants together in peace. Magneto was scowling. Again a fruitless effort thought Logan.
He turned to see Kitty, Rogue and Gambit over by the Blackbird. Rogue was holding Gambit under the arm. He had sustained some broken ribs in the melee. Rogue looked impatient to be going. Gambit needed medical attention. Kitty sat on the steps, nursing her foot. She hadn't quite recovered from the injury Wolverine had given her in the Morlock Tunnels. She shouldn't have come, he thought.
Suddenly a draft of wind blew past him ruffling his hair. A scent on the wind snapped an image into his head. He stood up straighter looking over the piles of rock and debris and sniffed. A vision assaulted him and he was soon picking his way cautiously over the rocky unstable terrain. Within moments the scent grew stronger. He came upon an opening in the rubble and looked down. A hallway ran toward the left and right. The left was blocked, but the right continued into the darkness. The scent came from that way. An urgency came upon him and he dropped lightly into the shaft.
Jean Grey looked around as Jubilee touched her arm. Her face was full of concern. "You seen Wolvie?" she asked. Jean shook her head and then looked over to where Logan had been standing moments before. That was odd. She reached out gently with her mind exploring the ruins. Then she had him. He was furiously clawing and pulling at a pile of rubble. "Logan" she asked in his mind.
"Jeannie." he responded out loud. "I need Piotr, now. We've got to get her out of there." Jean nodded, sensing the girl's presence. It was weak, tenuous, her life seemed to be slipping away as they spoke. She called to Piotr with her mind explaining the situation with a quick mental picture. Piotr responded placing Xavier down gently onto a pile of rocks. "Yes, go." Jean heard the professor say.
Guided by Jean, Piotr, Cyclops, and Jubilee made their way to Logan. "We must be quick." said Jean. "This hallway is more stable than the rest but it could go at any moment. I'll shield us with a telekinetic bubble if the roof falls in." Logan grunted as Piotr, converting to his metal form, began forcing large slabs of concrete out of the way. Within minutes a metal door was uncovered.
"Move out of the way and I'll blast it down." Said Cyclops getting into position and reaching for his visor.
"No!" shouted Wolverine. "You'll drop it down on her. The room's to small." With that he popped his claws and ran them into the door, hacking and slashing until he had a made a small opening. Then he crawled in to look for the girl. There was little light, but his heightened senses picked her out of the darkness. Part of the roof had fallen in, crushing the bed. She, however had managed to get to the floor as large pieces of the ceiling had crashed down around her. Miraculously she hadn't been hit. He pushed a boulder in front of him with all his might forcing it a little to the side and saw her. His heart turned over in his chest as he realized she was still alive. She was curled up in ball, unconscious. Her breath was shallow and labored, but she was breathing. He reached a hand in feeling her pulse. It was weak and thready. Memory assailed him as he remembered his last night with her. That had been two days ago. He could tell from her scent that she was dying from a lack of water. Quickly he grabbed her shoulders roughly and dragged her out. Pulling her into his arms he undid the collar around her neck and threw it violently further down into the darkness. The others watched him intently until Jean Grey asked, "Logan, who is she? Why was she..." Jean stopped in mid sentence when Logan looked up at her, images flooding into her mind, which she couldn't prevent. Images of fighting and brutality, and rape. She put her hand to her mouth, her eyes wide with disbelief. Logan's image was at the center of the torture she was witnessing. She turned to Scott and buried her head on his shoulder. Puzzled he hugged her to him. "What is it?" he asked quietly. "Don't ask me, Scott. Not now." Jean breathed.
Logan couldn't prevent his thoughts and memories from Jean's telepathy. They had been too strong, too hateful and overpowering. A wave of remorse and sadness went through him. How could he explain what he had done to this girl? How could he possibly justify his actions? He'd been willing enough. Intoxicated by her beauty and spirit. He forced his thoughts back into the present.
"Jeannie, I've done a terrible thing." he said, lifting the girl into his arms. "But she needs our help now. My healing factor can keep her alive for awhile. I don't know how long. She needs water. Soon. She's been down here two days without it." He turned toward the opening in the ceiling, leaving the others to watch his back wondering what terrible thing their friend had done and why he thought his healing factor could save her. Then each of them quickly followed him down the ruined hallway. Jean recovering from the mental assault lifted them each telekinetically up to the surface. Logan, refusing to let go of the girl, forced Jean to lift them both with some effort.
Back at the Blackbird the others watched curiously as Logan took the girl onboard. She still had not awoken. He said nothing, only taking her to the back of the plane. He sat down with her in the last three seats, lifting the arms to allow her room to lie down, her head resting in his lap. Jubilee went to sit across from him, staring at him in pain, anger and a twinge of jealousy. She wondered whom this girl was for Logan to be so concerned and haunted. He would not meet her gaze and finally she sat back in a huff. "Fine." she thought, "he wants to be all sad and pathetic, wha'do I care?" Sullen, she became uncharacteristically quiet.
The other X-men took their seats, occasionally darting glances back at their friend. Then they would meet each other's glance in curiosity and concern. Logan never took his eyes off the girl, only sat stroking her hair, whispering to her, "Hold on, girl, hold on." Only Jean and Xavier understood the significance of Logan's action, reading in every stroke his guilt.
Jean sat tight-lipped up front with Cyclops as he guided the plane back to the mansion. He tried to give her her space. She seemed not to want to talk. But their psychic bond made it hard to tune out her anger. Finally he spoke. "What happened here, Jean? I can't help but feel your anger."
There was a long pause and he wondered if he had pushed too far. Married to a telepath, he knew that pushing one too far could cause a lot of trouble. "I...Scott...I can't..." Jean answered at last, gritting her teeth.
"It's alright, babe. If you can't talk about it now..." Scott began attempting to calm her fury.
"He beat her, Scott. He beat her and then he raped her!" she hissed vehemently.
Scott's jaw dropped and he glanced around to the back of the plane. Eyes looked toward him at his swift action. He turned back around, glancing at Jean to see her starring with violent concentration out the window. "Apocalypse..." he started to whisper.
"Of course Apocalypse ordered him!" she spat back reading his thoughts. "It doesn't make it right! It doesn't justify what he did! I read his thoughts. When he looked at me his Death conditioning came to the surface. He enjoyed what he did!" She pounded a fist on the console. Several of her teammates looked up at her in concern.
"Jean." he spoke soothingly. "Jean, he wasn't the Wolverine we knew. Cable told us what he said to him, how he felt Apocalypse had shown him his true nature. That of a killer. But it's not him. He has his demons, but he wouldn't have done this unless he had been conditioned to." He stopped, amazed that he of all people were defending Logan. He'd always said the man was psycho. He'd argued with Xavier time and time again about Logan's place on the team. But over the years he'd come to respect the man. Logan had saved his life on several occasions. He couldn't deny the goodness in the man, inspite of what Jean had revealed. He looked again at Wolverine. The man's eyes remained down toward the girl, but Scott could sense they were haunted. He turned back to his wife. The woman he loved had been one of Logan's staunch defenders. There had been a strong connection between the two mutants that had been a source of jealousy in Scott for sometime. But now she was viciously speaking, "I don't know if I can be around him. Be on the same team as him. He's lost his soul, Scott. I don't think he'll ever get it back. After what he's done I can't bare to look at him."
Tears well in her eyes. She felt betrayed and bitter by the man she had called a friend. She knew Scott couldn't really comprehend. Yes, she felt Logan's remorse. But she had seen his thoughts and the darkness that was still there swimming just below the surface. A man who had wanted to control, to break that girl to his will. It was too much. "When we get back to the mansion, I just want to wrap things up with Xavier and then get back to Alaska."
Scott nodded. It would take time for her to forgive. He wouldn't push her. They had wanted to take time off from the team anyway. This was as good an excuse as any. Xavier would understand.
The man Scott was thinking about, Professor Charles Xavier, was seated just behind him next to Storm frowning out the window. Also a telepath, he couldn't help but feel the bitterness in Jean's thoughts. He himself felt the betrayal of one of his students sharply. He knew what demons swam in Logan's psyche, and he wondered whether he had made a grave error long ago, letting Wolverine join the X-men. He was violent to be sure. Had a temper to match and had fought long and hard trying to hold on to his humanity. In his long, dark mysterious history, Xavier had no doubt the man had killed. Just recently, as Death, he had killed the skrull posing as him who had infiltrated the team. And he had tried to take the life of several of his teammates. People he had called friends. What would his friends say now, if they knew the truth? he wondered. What did he have to say, knowing the truth? Xavier wasn't sure. He knew the goodness in the man, his nobility. Logan would have given his life for his friends. But that was before. Then he would have attacked only men with a just cause. He had been protective of the women in his life, of women in general. He was prone to violence perhaps but not rape. Kitty and Jubilee looked up to him as a father figure. Xavier scowled back out the window and wondered just what he would do. A hand touched his and he turned to Storm.
"Is it that bad, Charles?" she inquired hesitantly, bringing to form the unspoken words of her teammates.
"It maybe, Ororo. It may just be." He turned back to the window not wishing to speak anymore. Storm left him to his silence. Like the others, she was curious about the girl and her relationship to Logan. She wondered at what terrible thing he could have done. She had heard the viciousness in Jean's voice, if not the actual content. She rested her head back on her seat. All things would come to light, and as with Gambit, they would each in their own turn judge Logan. And they would forgive him. Of this she was certain. Families always had way of forgiving each other, no matter how frightening their actions had been. She knew the man. She had trusted him with her life. She would not allow one terrible misstep on his part erase all the love she had for him as a friend and ally.
There was little talking on the craft the rest of the way home. A few whispers of concern were exchanged between Rogue and Gambit. He was resting as comfortably as possible given his injuries. Aerin's breathing had become a little more labored as the ride went on, but she seemed to be surviving.
As they touched down, everyone allowed Logan to get to the entrance of the plane first. No one missed the fact that he was careful not to let the girl touch any of them, and they wondered at his actions until Beast, catching up with him said, "Let me look at her, Logan. I'd like to get an idea of any further injuries before we get to the medlab."
Logan pulled her away from Hank quickly before his hand reached her shoulder. "No. Moira needs to look after her. She absorbs mutant powers permanently. It's why she has my healing factor." Hank nodded in understanding, leaving Logan to increase his pace to the medlab. Rogue followed in shortly behind carrying Gambit. Nightcrawler teleported Kitty in soon after. Moira motioned Logan to the first bed in the lab. He laid the girl down gently and Moira went to work. She searched for a vein in the girl's arm, meticulously looking up and down the length. Trying for an antecubital vein, she was unsuccessful accessing it on either arm. "Ach," she said in frustration, "she's to dehydrated to find a peripheral. I'll have to go with the external jugular". She lowered the head of the bed and found the engorged vein, hitting it the first time. Logan watched quietly, scowling. More torture for the poor girl. After two liters of fluid, though, the healing factor coursing through her DNA began its miraculous work. Her color returned, her heart rate slowed, and her blood pressure began to rise to a normal level. She was recovering. But still she did not wake.
"I'm na' sure." Moira said, answering Logan's question. "She should have regained consciousness by now. You would ha'. Perhaps the trauma to her system was too much. Her vitals are stable. We'll ha' to give her more time."
Logan sat by her bed for a full twenty-four hours before exhaustion began to wear him thin and Hank suggested he get some rest. He hadn't slept in days. She was stable, he assured him. She would rise soon enough. There had been no neurological damage that he or Moira could ascertain. She'd be up and about in no time. "You need to rest yourself. She may need you later when she's awake." he said in sympathy. "We'll watch over her now."
"Fine." Wolverine agreed, not really wanting to leave, but knowing Hank would throw him out bodily if he didn't. He'd been getting on Hank and Moira's nerves sitting there stone silent beside the girl. And he knew their curiosity was getting the better of them. They'd soon be asking questions he wasn't prepared to answer. "I'll be back in a few hours." He stalked out of the room, trying to avoid the others as he made his way to his room. Unfortunately, on his way to the stairs he passed Jean coming in the front door. She stopped abruptly when she saw him unable to keep the disgust out of her eyes.
"Jean..." he began.
"Save It." she interrupted him and moved passed him towards the kitchen. He watched her go, wanting to run after her, wanting to justify what he'd done. But he knew he couldn't say anything that would make it all right in her eyes. She had seen his thoughts. And right now she hated him for what he had done. She couldn't trust him anymore and it broke his heart. Of all people. "Jean." he whispered. "I'm sorry." Sadly he climbed the stairs to his room. He'd catch a few hours shut eye and then head back down to the medlab. But it would be sometime before he woke.

 

Chapter Six

She opened her eyes slowly, looking up into the bright medical examination light, thinking it a strange place to be. She blinked rapidly as the light stung her eyes and she lifted her hand to block it. She licked her lips happiness flooding through her at the increased saliva content. Focusing her eyes she looked around at her surroundings. I survived she thought in wonderment. How was it possible? Had it just been a nightmare? Was she back at the hospital? The bright lights would make sense. Maybe she had fallen asleep on a stretcher after a particularly long shift. But as she looked around the room it didn't seem familiar. It looked like a hospital room, but the technology was strange. The bed she lay on was strange. Then she noticed the Beast. Dr. Henry "Hank" McCoy, a five foot eleven inch 355 pound blue furry man in a lab coat stood chewing absentmindedly on a pencil reading some papers on a clip board. She shrieked and fell out of the bed away from him. He looked around quickly seeing her fall.
"Oh my stars and garters! You're awake!" He started toward her, and as she looked over at him from the other side of the bed she shrieked again. She clutched a blanket around her, the one she had pulled with her as she fell out of the bed.
"My dear. It's quite alright. I mean you no harm. My unusual visage merely masks a heart of gold underneath." Hank said soothingly. But she continued backing away from him, aware that the nightmare had been all too real, and that it hadn't ended. What torment lie ahead for her now. Without warning she backed into a shelf of beakers, knocking it over. Glass shattered around her.
"Stand still." warned the Beast putting up his hands, palms outward, gesturing for her not to move. "You'll only end up cutting your precious toes. I promise I will not harm you." Aerin stood still, listening to him. Through the panic in her mind, she felt his sincerity. She exhaled deeply and stepped forward out of the path of the crushed glass. But she kept her eyes on him warily. "Where..." she asked softly unable to finish for the lump in her throat.
But he sensed what she wanted to know. "You're in New York, my dear. Salem Center to be exact. At the home of one Charles Xavier. We found you in Egypt near death from dehydration and brought you here."
"Egypt." she thought wildly. At least she hadn't left earth. She took a step closer to the bed. "Do you know how many days I was over there."
"Unfortunately, no. We only just arrived at the lair two days ago to vanquish Apocalypse and his errant allies. We were back here yesterday. You've been unconscious the entire time."
"Apocalypse." She let the word roll across her tongue. "The master?" she asked. He nodded. "Most likely what you might have heard him called. He's dead." he added, hoping this would ease her mind even more. "I assume he's been holding you captive for several days. Logan found you among the ruin. He should be in shortly to check on you."
As if on cue the door to the medlab opened and Logan walked in, fresh from a long nap. She looked at him for what seemed an eternity, unable to move, to breathe. It was him. It was Death. The furry man had lied to her. The nightmare hadn't ended. It had only just begun. "No." she whispered putting her hands to her mouth shaking her head in disbelief. "NononononononoNO!" she screamed and kept on screaming backing up over the glass, looking wildly around for an escape exit. He was here and he was coming toward her. Her eyes were wild with panic and fear.
"It's alright, darlin'," she heard him say, "I won't hurt you." But she couldn't believe him. Didn't dare believe him. She looked at Hank as she hit the wall behind her. "Please!" she pleaded. "Help me! He'll kill me!" Sobs tore from her, and seeing her naked fear, Hank placed a hand on Logan's shoulder stopping him in his tracks. "Get out of here!" he said harshly. Logan wavered between frustration and guilt. All he wanted was to go to her, tell her everything was okay, he wasn't the same man who had tortured her. But Hank's crushing grip on his shoulder was forcing him toward the door. "NOW! Leave! Can't you see, you're terrifying her!" Aerin had sunk into a crouch with her face against the wall. Panic had turned to hysteria as she realized the two men blocked the only route to her escape. She clawed at the wall crying. The Beast physically pushed Logan through the door as he was saying, "Let me just..." The door clanged shut. Hank hit the lock on the door as a fist pounded from outside once and then ceased.
Dr Henry McCoy breathed a sigh of relief and leaned back against the door. "Now I know why I only like the research aspect of my work." he thought. He looked to where Aerin had slumped to the floor. A trail of blood ran to her from where she had stepped through the broken glass. "Oh dear." he said out loud and then went to her stepping gingerly around the broken glass. He took the blanket she had dropped in her effort to get away from Logan and wrapped it around her covering her head, neck and body. Then he hugged her to him gently avoiding any skin contact. "There, there." he soothed. "He's gone. I sent him out of here."
Aerin sobbed for sometime. Hank continued to hold her until her crying had subsided. Then he lifted her in his arms and placed her sitting up on the bed. From a desk toward the side of the bed he grabbed a pair of medical examination gloves. He put them on and then took her right foot in his huge paw examining the lacerations he was certain were there. The lacerations had healed, but pieces of glass were embedded in her foot.
"I'll have to remove these." he said looking up at her. She nodded sniffling. "It will hurt a bit, but I'll use a local anesthetic." She nodded again. He went to a cabinet and got out some supplies. Filling a syringe with lidocaine he inserted it into her foot. "There'll be a sting and a burn. Tell me when you feel a numbness." She winced at the pain of the needle. Then sat still as she waited for the numbness to take effect. He prodded her foot gently with his finger. "Do you feel that?" he asked. She shook her head. Using a scalp he proceeded to dislodge the pieces of glass. When he had finished he watched in wonder as her cuts healed. He'd never seen Logan's healing factor working up close. It was quite a site. He then took her other foot tending to it like the first. Again it healed quickly. He glanced up at her again and saw her looking at her foot in utter disbelief. "How?" she asked.
"Wolverine's healing factor. It's running through you now. It kept you alive long enough to get here so we could administer fluids. Quite a handy mutation." he grinned at her.
"I'm not a mutant." she said, but doubt was in her voice. How could she have healed so quickly? The Beast was speaking to her. "You take on other mutant's ability. It's why I don't want to touch your bare skin. I'd fear the result. Some people just can't pull off blue fur."
Surprised by the comment, she laughed. Hank smiled. Then he began to speak to her softly about her mutation, ("We've done a scan and you came out positive for the X-factor chromosome" he told her), about Apocalypse and his plan, about the X-men and the Twelve and how they all fit into the story. Then finally when he felt she was ready he spoke about Death and their friend Logan. Not knowing the circumstances that had transpired between her and Logan, he chose not to defend him, only to lay out his history with the X-men. He told her only facts, true anecdotes about his time on the team.
She listened intently, trusting Hank's words. Inspite of his frightful countenance there was a gentleness about him, a sincerity she couldn't deny. When he had finished, she sat silently kicking her feet back and forth nervously, thoughtfully. So much to take in. Egypt, Apocalypse, the Twelve, the X-men, Death, and a man called Logan. She shivered. What now? she wondered. What did they expect of her? To forgive their friend who hadn't been in his right mind? Would they expect her to face him? Perhaps she was expected to turn him over to the authorities. Bring him up on charges of assault and rape. But they had been in Egypt. How could he be convicted here? And what was the point? The man who controlled him was dead. And what he had taken from her couldn't be returned. All she could hope for at this moment was that he felt the guilt of his crime.
She exhaled slowly and leaned back on the bed. "It's a lot to take in, I feel certain." Hank said, "But can I get you anything to help ease your mind."
"I could use something to wear." she said seriously. He laughed. "I was going to suggest that, really I was." She laughed with him, beginning to feel some of her tension leave. "I have a uniform here. It's one of the girls and it may be a little long for you, but I think it will work." He went to another cabinet and pulled out a yellow and blue outfit with an X emblazoned on the belt. He handed it to her and said, "I'll just slip outside while you put it on." He unlocked the door and stepped out into the hallway, half expecting to see Logan waiting outside. Thankfully he had left.
In a moment he heard her at the door. "Um...Dr McCoy?" she asked. "How do you open the door." He smiled and opened it from his side, showing her the switch that controlled the entrance. "Sh'iar technology. Sorry." he added sheepishly. Then he looked her up and down. The outfit was very long on her petite frame. She had had to drape part of it over the belt. It looked a bit ridiculous on her, but he said "It suits you." She laughed at him, knowing he was trying to be kind. But she knew it was much too big and the boots even bigger. "Beggars can't be choosers." she said to him. He smiled down at her and taking her arm in his careful to keep the material between them, he said, "Now, Miss....ah..."
"Stafford, " she finished for him, "Aerin Stafford." It was like a blessing to say her name for the first time in days. No one had cared to know at Apocalypse's lair.
"Miss Stafford," he said with a great teasing formality "I think it's time you met the rest of our lofty team."

 

Chapter Seven

Jubilee watched in a nervous silence as Wolverine mangled one fighter robot after another. He was in a rage, and it was making her more than a little frightened. She had seen his temper before, had even been witness to several of his beserker rages. She knew he could get out of control. But this time he seemed to be staying in control of his madness, yet seriously wanting to tear apart something, anything to release his pent up emotions. Maybe even her she wondered, causing her stomach to do a double flip into her abdomen. So she stood quietly just inside the entrance to the Danger Room, waiting for a chance to speak her mind. Wondering if this was the right time. She hoped he hadn't seen her, but felt certain he was aware of her presence.
Wolverine slammed his claws into the head of another robot, and then pulling back, he decapitated it. He saw one coming at him on his right and he swung a foot out to slam it back, halfway across the room. He was furious. Mainly at himself. She had been terrified, terrified of him. All he wanted to say to her, all the apologies he had played over and over in his mind had gone to waste. He was helpless against her fear. Hank would protect her, making sure Logan wouldn't get close to her unless she allowed him. Her fear would keep him at bay. He turned and snatched the robot coming at him from behind and lifting it above his head threw it toward the door with a roar. Jubilee ducked out of the way just moments before it impacted against the wall. It shattered into pieces. Logan, surprised by Jubilee's appearance, so intent on destruction, stopped in his tracks. A robot grabbed his arm then, but recovering from the surprise, he slung it away in a fury, and ran to the override button near the door. The rest of the robots came to a grinding halt.
"What's a matter with ya, kid?!" he asked harshly. "Ya lookin' to get yerself killed?!"
Jubilee, feeling her anger rise at his tone, said defensively, "Would it matter to you anyway? You haven't said two words to me since we got back. And don't forget it was me who saved your hairy butt down in the tunnels, Mr. Death's-taking-a-holiday-so-I-can-save-all-the-babes-in-the-world-now!" She glared at him. "Damn!" she thought, "Now I've showed him I'm jealous and he'll probably just laugh at me."
But he only said, "Wha'da ya want me to say?"
He caught her off guard, enough to cause her to speak her mind truthfully. "I want you to tell me what happened. I want to know whatcha did that was so terrible. I wantcha to just talk to me and not be so pissed off at everything and keep it all to yourself. She's okay, she's alive. Nothing you did could have been that horrible."
"Yeah," he answered, scowling, "She's alive. But some things are worse than death. I know. Getting back my adamantium was like that."
"But you survived it." she said with pride in her voice.
"That's what Apocalypse would say, ya know." he shot at her.
"Screw you!" she threw back at him as she marched to the door. "Keep it all to yourself. Be the big shot loner looser. Don't need anybody's help. Go beat up some more robots. They won't offer to help you."
He clenched his fists, grumbling. He wanted to talk, but she was just a kid. A kid who'd been around the world several times, seen things most kids wouldn't see in their lifetime. But still a kid. Could she understand. Or would she judge him as harshly as Jean had, believing him beyond redemption.
"Jubilation, wait." He relented, trying to find the right words to explain. Hoping beyond hope she wouldn't lose her respect for him. "What if you and I were to fight?" he asked, hitting upon an opening of some sort.
She turned and looked at him puzzled. "You and me, here? Now?"
He put his hand to his forehead in frustration, rubbing it. "No." he said, taking a breath to calm himself. Exasperation wouldn't help. "No. Hypothetically speaking. Only your fireworks would be taken away from you, or you wouldn't be a mutant, so ya couldn't blindside me with your explosive power that makes you you." He held up a hand as she started to speak. "Let me finish, Jubes." He paused to see her quiet down, then said. "And suppose, during our fight, I still had my mutant healing factor, my heightened senses, my strength and fighting experience. Who'dya think would win?" He finished looking at her seriously.
"I would!" Jubilee blurted out. "I'd kick your hairy butt into next Wednesday. Cause I'm that good." she snapped her fingers.
Wolverine sighed. Still just a kid. "Really?" he asked, "You'd beat me in a fight without your mutant power?"
She shook her head, sorry she had tried to make light of the situation. Here he was trying to tell her something, trying to explain, just like she wanted and she was making fun. "No." she said remorsefully. "You'd whip my tale."
"I might even kill ya?" he asked, deadly serious.
"Yeah." she whispered. Maybe she'd gone too far. Maybe she wasn't ready to know the truth. But she faced her fear, knowing she couldn't back down now. She had to hear it. She had to know. And he needed so desperately to let it out, to talk to someone. They looked at each other for several minutes, both dreading what would be said next. Finally, Logan broke the silence.
"That's what happened between me and that girl. Apocalypse ordered me to fight her. She had no power to speak of. No real defense. And I beat her almost to death." He pointed to the robot parts strewn across the floor. "Like those. I tore into her like those."
"But Wolvie," Jubilee began in earnest, "you weren't..."
"In my right mind." he finished her sentence for her, nodding. "But I knew what I was doing. I knew it wasn't right. And part of me enjoyed it. Having complete control over someone else. And there was more, Jubilee, much more. Things I did that I hope you can't even imagine. Things I don't want to tell you. Things I don't want to tell anyone. Jean knows and hates me for it. I don't want that to happen to you." he said sadly. "I don't want you to hate me too."
Tears ran down Jubilee's face as she went to him, hugging him tight. "I'd never hate you, Wolvie. Never." she swore. "I may hate what you did, but I wouldn't hate you. You don't have to tell me anymore. And that girl'll be okay. She'll forgive you, once she knows who you really are. So will Jean. I know it."
He hugged her back, feeling better than he had in days. Her optimism was winning him over. Maybe she was right. Maybe they'd all forgive him. Maybe she'd forgive him if he could just speak to her. He kissed Jubilee affectionately on the head. "Thanks, Jubes, thanks."

 

Chapter Eight

Hank led Aerin up to the kitchen where Storm and Psylocke were preparing dinner. A well-meaning Gambit, almost fully recovered from his injuries, was trying to help.
"Get out of here, Cajun!" Yelled Psylocke. "It's hot enough as it is, without your special secret spice." She pointed to the beef stew boiling on the stove.
"You jus' don' know what your missin' chere." he said, trying to reach around her to sprinkle something in the stew. "Gambit know how to spice it up, non?"
"No." she said pushing him back. "And if you don't get out of here, you'll be wearing this stew." she threatened.
"It appears our resident Cajun considers himself quite the gourmet chef." Hank said conspiratorially to Aerin. "He tried this once on Jean, and ended up dressed in the turkey dinner we were suppose to enjoy Thanksgiving Day." She giggled and he said, "Aerin, meet Remy Lebeau, affectionately know around here as Gambit."
With a flourish only he could pull off, Remy took one of Aerin's hands in his bending to kiss it. "Chere..." he began, but was pushed back forcefully by the Beast. "It's a good thing you're wearing that glove, Remy, or she'd be charging you up like a Christmas tree with your own power. She takes on other mutations. It's her gift."
"Ah, petite." Gambit said forlornly, "Dat is too sad. Another beautiful mutant woman wit'out the ability t'touch others."
"She's only unable to touch smooth-talking cocky Cajun mutants." Hank told him. "She only absorbs the powers of mutants. Not their personalities, like our dear unfortunate Rogue." he explained. "She's taken on Wolverine's mutation. It appears she can touch him now without harm."
"Den de petite might like to have my power, non?" Gambit spoke flirtatiously to Aerin. "Dis t'ief could show you some pretty interestin' tricks, chere."
Aerin stepped back shaking her head. "I'd rather not." she said with a smile, charmed by his attention, but certainly not ready to exploit her newlyfound mutant powers. "I might hurt you."
"Ah, but de pain would be sweet." Gambit said smiling back.
"Ahem." Interrupted the Beast, "I think you'll scare her soon with that charm of yours, Remy. Now, Aerin" he added rapidly before Gambit could get in another word. "The two talented cooks you see are Ororo Munroe and Betsy Braddock. Storm and Psylocke respectively."
Both women had watched the interplay in amused silence. Now Storm came around wiping her hands on her apron and then offering it to Aerin. Aerin took it shyly. "Pleased to meet you." Storm said. "Welcome to our home. I hope you'll like what we have to offer in the way of a meal. With all the crisises, no one's been able to get to the store, so we've had to improvise. Remy's contribution not withstanding."
"Hey!" said Remy, "Just cause you like dat bland food, don' mean everyone gotta settle." With that he pulled out a cigarette and lit it, knowing full well smoking in the house irritated most of the residents.
"Get out of here with that, " admonished Storm, "or I'll happily have Beast escort you out."
Gambit took a drag on the cigarette and sauntered away out the door. "Be back in time for de bland diet." he called over his shoulder. "Save a place for me, petite, eh?"
Storm sighed. Betsy laughed lightly. "He can even get to our reserved weather-goddess." She too offered her a hand. "I still don't see how Rogue puts up with him. He thinks he's quite the ladies man." Aerin took her hand thinking Remy had the right to consider himself a ladies man. He was quite charming and incredibly handsome. Even his strange red eyes only enhanced his mysterious appeal. But then all three X-men she had met so far were beautiful. Storm with her unblemished dark skin, long white hair and cat like eyes. And Psylocke with her Asian features and violet hair. Her English accent was a bit disconcerting, but only added to her strange beauty. Both women were tall with incredibly well toned bodies. And Remy's body was fashion model perfect. She felt considerably out of place amongst these perfect beings.
"Well, ladies," Hank said interrupting her thoughts, "We'll leave you to prepare the feast, and make our presence known to the rest of the fold."
"Dinner is almost ready, Henry." Storm said. "Most of the team are in the dinning room, waiting patiently. Would you tell them to bring their plates in here in about ten minutes. They can serve themselves."
"It would be my pleasure, dear Storm." Hank said, leading Aerin through a kitchen door opposite of where they had entered. They came into a large formal dining room. Aerin was becoming more and more awed by what she saw. She looked around the room at the furnishings. They weren't quite up to the standards they had been before Bastion had confiscated Xavier's possessions. But they were still impressive. A long cherry oak dining table stood in the center. Pictures dotted the walls. Monet, Renoir, Raphael. She wondered if any were the real thing. A few tapestries hung down giving the room an air of antiquity, like a medieval castle on a cold October night.
Seated around the table were the rest of the household, sans Wolverine, Jubilee, Jean Grey, Xavier and Scott Summers. Hank made the introductions. "Warren Worthington, Angel. Bobby Drake, our resident comedian, also called Iceman. Rogue. Kitty Pryde, aka Shadowcat. Piotr Rasputin and his brother Mikhail. Marrow or Sarah as we like to call her when she's in a good mood. Moira Mactaggert and Kurt Wagner, our resident fuzzy elf and swordsmaster."
"Ja." replied Kurt. "Don't you forget the swords either, mein freund. Fuzzy elf indeed." Aerin looked at him astonished. Like the Beast he was covered in blue fur. But he was leaner, had three fingers on each hand and had a prehensile tail that was wrapped around the back of his chair. He looked like a demon, not an elf. But he stood graciously and bowed to her. "A pleasure to meet you, fraulien." he said pleasantly. Again she found the accent of an X-men disconcerting. "Nice to meet you." she offered.
"Well this is a nice surprise." piped up Kitty. "She's not running from the room thinking she's seen a demon."
"I'm sure she's been pretty much prepared for anything after meeting Wolverine." said Marrow caustically.
A silence hit the room like a freight train. "Sarah." Kitty finally spoke up, chastising Marrow, "I wish you'd learn to hold that tongue of yours."
"I'll hold my tongue while I'm cutting out yours." Marrow threatened. Sarah's inner self had not quite caught up to the outer beauty she now possessed with her newfound control over her mutation. Kitty frowned at her, but said nothing, not wanting to antagonize the situation, especially in front of a guest. Instead she looked at Aerin and said, "Has Beast been treating you okay?"
She looked at Kitty puzzled. She hadn't quite made the connection to the name Wolverine. She blinked. "I have been the perfect gentleman, I assure you." said Hank in the wake of Aerin's silence.
"Except for the fleas, furball." chimed in Bobby
At that everyone laughed, even Aerin. Hank merely looked insulted. "I'll have you know I just used the Frontline spray yesterday. " He answered in a graciously hurt tone. More peels of laughter went around the table.
"Don't worry, Aerin, they're the best of friends." said Kitty with a wink as the laughter died.
"Well," said Hank, "after all this witty repartee, I'm sure we can convince Miss Stafford to stay awhile. Especially after she's tasted our cooking. Storm has requested that we take our plates into the kitchen. She refuses to serve you animals herself."
At that moment, Remy flowed in balancing a plate of stew and a glass of red wine. A roll was stuck in his mouth. He sat down next to Rogue and she glared at him. "Ain't you got any manners, Gambit. Guests eat first."
He looked at her grinning. "Not when you got a hungry t'ief in de house." She whacked him across the head. "I'm an injured man, petite." he cried.
"Not as injured as you're gonna be if ya'll don't apologize." warned Rogue.
Gambit stood all grace and style. "Forgive dis' ole swamp-rat." he said to Aerin, "My recent injuries make me forget my manners. Can I offer you dis plate?"
Aerin smiled shaking her head. "Go on girl, you oughta dump it on his head." Rogue said. Laughter came from several corners. Then Hank handed Aerin a plate and urged her back to the kitchen. "You need to eat now. You haven't in days. You need the nutrition." She filled her plate under his watchful eye, making certain she was taking enough to build back her strength.
She sat down next to him across from Remy and Rogue. For awhile she concentrated on eating her meal, uncertain what to do or say. Occasionally she'd answer a question from one of the X-men. Her answers were brief and stilted and the one who had poised the question would quickly be drawn back to other conversations. After a little while she watched in nervous silence the interaction between the members of the team. They were all so comfortable around each other. She thought of their camaraderie and envied it a little. Again the feeling of not quite belonging came down on her. Emotionally she still denied her mutation, though intellectually she couldn't. She had seen the healing factor at work. She couldn't deny what she had seen with her own eyes. And the sensitivity of her hearing, her smell and eyesight had increased exponentially. Yet she couldn't accept it. Morosely she thought about reaching out and touching Dr McCoy. She'd prove she wasn't a mutant when she didn't turn into a blue furred woman. Then she could say, "There. I'm not one of you. I'm just an ordinary human, not like you freaks." It frightened her in a way she couldn't explain. It would change her life. From now on she'd touch people with trepidation, wondering all the while if she was touching a mutant. Wondering if plasma bolts were going to shoot out of her eyes everytime she took care of one of her patients. She'd have to wear gloves more often.
Aerin closed her eyes. She wanted her life back. With all the blessed ignorance. She didn't want to know. Knowing meant she was more like him, Logan. A part of him was in her now and she didn't want to be aware of it. That only brought back painful memories. Memories she desperately wanted to be rid of. She listened to the banter of the people at the table. It was becoming difficult to sit there in silence and watch them, all the while wanting only to scream out her denials. She stood up suddenly pushing her chair away in an urge to run, to get out of there. Hank and the others looked up at her concerned. Feeling silly and exposed she turned quickly to Hank and asked "Where's the bathroom?"
He smiled, a flash of relief coming to his face. She had been so quiet. His concern about her emotional well being had been growing steadily throughout dinner. Finding out about her mutation at this time in her life must be difficult at best. He worried about how she would handle it. And when she stood up like that he had been afraid she wanted to leave, to get away from them, trying in vain to deny what she was. He felt a sudden protectiveness of her. When he had suggested to her to meet the X-men he had wanted to show her her kind. Let her know that they were every bit as human as homo sapiens. Make it easier for her to accept all he had told her. But perhaps he had pushed her too far, overwhelmed her with mutantkind. Yet she wasn't bolting. It was just a simple request and he graciously gave her directions to the nearest facility.
She left quickly through the door Hank had pointed at and followed the hallway down toward the bathroom. But she went passed it on a mission to find an entrance to the mansion. She wanted air. She had no way of getting back to New York without asking, but she could at least step out of the house. It'd give her some sense of control.
She passed a door and heard heated voices behind it. She paused for a moment, listening. The voices were discussing her. Jean Grey stood on the other side of the door looking at Charles Xavier and Scott Summers. Her eyes were narrowed and she was saying, "...that girl. If you intend to ask her to stay, I suggest you ask Logan to leave. Who knows what kind of mental damage it'll cause her to see him day after day?"
"I know how you feel." started Charles. "I saw the images. I know what he's done. Don't you think I don't feel some guilt for having asked him to join the team." He put up a hand to silence Jean. "And I know full well the danger of asking the girl to stay with Logan around. But what kind of message would that send to the others? We have forgiven Rogue her past. And Gambit. It would be hypocrisy on my part to send him away. To in essence tell him what he had done was unforgivable. Much as I am repulsed by his actions, and a little frightened by his psyche, I can not in good conscience tell him to leave."
"And the girl?" Jean challenged. "What about her psyche? Is she supposed to forgive him? Is that your big plan? To have her learn forgiveness inspite of all the brutality she's been subjected to. How can you ask that of her? What gives you that right?"
"No one." Answered Xavier. "I can merely ask. She can accept my offer or not. I would never force her to stay. I only want to help her control her mutant power. She has a potentially dangerous mutation. And I would like to make sure she's safe. It could be so easily exploited. According to Logan, even Apocalypse was concerned about her genetic gift."
"Send him away, then Charles. Tell him you forgive him, but send him away." Jean pleaded with Xavier. "You'll only divide the team between those who want to protect her and those who are loyal to Logan."
"Perhaps if you told him to leave for a while." offered Scott. He had kept quiet, not quite certain of his own feelings on the matter. "It might help her transition to the team. And keep her painful memories at bay for awhile."
"You know well enough Scott that a person must face the thing he fears, or it'll only enslave him."
Jean shook her head. "It's not right. You can't force her fears away by bringing her memories back to the surface everyday. You saw the images, but you didn't see far enough. You didn't feel what I felt. He still has a lust for the girl. A dark desire. It was written on his face. He wants to...to conquer her. And I'm afraid he can't hold that demon down being so near to her. It'll only end with one of them hurt. And I can't imagine much hurting Logan."
"Jean, " remonstrated Xavier. "That's unfair! You know the man. You've seen how badly he's been hurt over the years. Are we to throw away all our respect and friendship? Are we to offer no help? He's fought his demons time and time again. The scars are all written in his face. I believe he can fight this darkness too. I believe he can find redemption."
"I think you're a fool." Jean said.
"Jean." said Scott wanting to end this discussion before more words were said they'd regret. "It's Xavier's decision now. Regardless of whether or not Logan stays, we're leaving. Going back to Alaska." He looked at Xavier as if to say, "Give her time. It'll turn out all right."
Xavier dropped his head in sadness. "I had sensed you would leave. I understand, but....I'll miss you both. I'm sorry that you and I must part in disagreement, Jean. But know that I respect your opinions. I always have. I just hope you can trust me to make the right decision."
Jean went to him, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Charles..." she began.
Aerin left, not wishing to hear the rest. Xavier wanted her to join the team. But Jean had been right. How could she face Logan day after day. Memories assailing her night after night. And was it true what she had said? That he still wanted to break her to his will. What would stop him from taking her as he had already done?
She found a door to a patio and stepped outside. She went to the edge of the patio and looked out at the darkness, hugging her arms. What would she say when Xavier asked her to join the team? What could she say?
Cigar smoke drifted across her sense of smell and she turned around sharply peering into the gloom. She saw the burning embers of the cigar held by a shadow leaning back against the wall. Why hadn't she sensed him there immediately? She knew his scent. Yet she had walked right past him deep in her own thoughts. A wave of fear caused her to tremble. She moved back toward the door, but he stepped in front of her dropping the cigar on the concrete crushing it beneath his boot. Panic tore through her. She wanted to flee, losing him in the darkness. But she stood her ground remembering what Xavier had said. She had to face her fear, or it would enslave her.
He started toward her cautiously, sensing her panic, not wanting to terrify her into bolting. But she stood there breathlessly, starring into his eyes, waiting for him to make the first move.
"I..." he began quietly, "I can't give you back what I've taken. I can't erase the harm I've done to you." He stepped closer to her. Lord, she was lovely, he thought. Even in the dim light her beauty radiated out to him. But he shook his head. He was trying to apologize. That was all. He wanted her to know how bad he felt. "All I can do" he continued, coming closer, "is ask your forgiveness."
All of a sudden he was there in front of her. She felt weak, drugged by his presence. She was spellbound. Fear had given way to longing. She couldn't speak or move, for the sight and smell of him overpowered her. He reached up with his hand touching her cheek, wiping a way an errant tear with his thumb. She closed her eyes swaying slightly toward the hand brushing her cheek and he caught her shoulders quickly steadying her, wanting nothing more than to pull her to him. But he held back. "Please," he said, a plea in his voice. "Please forgive me, darlin'. I'm sorry." She kept her eyes closed, but turned her face up to him. She said nothing, and he thought he sensed in her silence forgiveness. Tenderly he kissed her forehead, her cheek, her eyes, her other cheek. Then he touched her lips with his and felt her open beneath him.
"Aerin?" Came Henry's voice from the doorway. "Are you all right?" The spell was broken. Aerin stepped away from Logan but he caught her arm in a vise-like grip. "Course she's alright, McCoy." he rasped.
Hank could sense Logan's arousal in his smell and voice. "Aerin?" he asked again, his own voice full of concern.
"I'm fine, Dr McCoy." Aerin answered, a tremor in her voice to indicate how far from fine that she was. She looked at Logan. "Please." she whispered. "Let me go."
He snatched his hand away as if it had touched a scorching flame. He let her go around him to the door and sadly watched her go inside. "Aerin." he said softly, feeling her name for the first time on his lips. Then he slipped out into the darkness, certain he had her forgiveness, but wanting more, so much more.
Hank watched Aerin step past him into the house, his face awash with relief. He had prevented something before it had started. Something he felt would have had catastrophic consequences. "Aerin?" he said as she kept moving toward a hallway on her right. She seemed a little dazed. Logan's effect on her had been disarming. Hank's voice brought her back to reality and she turned as he said her name. He poised to say something reassuring, but she stopped him saying "I'm tired, Dr McCoy. Could you show me back to the medical area? I'd kinda like to lie down for awhile, if that's okay?"
He nodded in understanding. The day had been emotionally overwhelming for her. He could see it in her eyes, the weariness of having to take in so much. It had to be draining. "I can see you'd rather not meet anyone else today." he spoke kindly. "However, the lab would be a dreadful place in which to rest. There's a guestroom upstairs you may use. It's not much, but it would be more comfortable than the medlab. And there's a shower too. I'm sure you'd like to freshen up."
She nodded in agreement. "I bet I smell awful." She smiled weakly. "I hope you don't have the heightened senses that I've acquired. I'd think being around me would be unbearable."
"No my dear," Hank grinned at her, "I haven't noticed any offensive odors coming from your direction. Now Gambit...." He winked at her and her smile broadened. She silently thanked him for his warmth and kindness, his gentle desire only to ease her tension. He was a good man, blue fur, canine teeth and all.
He led her through several rooms to the main stairs in the mansion. She wondered how he could find his way around in the maze of rooms and hallways. But then he had lived here a good part of his life. They went up the stairs down another hall, and turning to the left at the end he showed her to the guestroom. It was very utilitarian. It hadn't been a priority in the redecorating after Operation Zero Tolerance. There was a twin bed and a small dresser. No pictures. And no windows. A small bathroom stood to the right of the doorway. Aerin shivered slightly thinking of how it reminded her of her prison cell. But she said nothing to Hank, not wanting to alarm him. At least it had a bathroom she told herself, calming her mind. She stepped into the room and sat on the bed looking around. Hank stood a little awkwardly in the doorway. "There are towels in the bathroom and I'm sure I could find you something to sleep in. The girl's dorm is just down the hallway. I'm sure Betsy or Jubilee would have something. I'll just go and see." he finished rambling and turned to go.
"Wait, Dr McCoy." Aerin stopped him, a plea in her voice. "Please don't go. Not yet." She sat silently looking at her feet avoiding his gaze as he turned back to her. He waited for her to speak, knowing what she was going to say if she could muster the courage, and dreading it. Finally she nodded to herself, took a deep breath and said, "I want to talk about it. I need to before I shove it so far back in my memory that I start to pretend like it didn't happen. If I do that it'll only get worse, coming out in other ways, making it difficult to live." A tear trickled down her face. "Post traumatic stress disorder. That's what a therapist would call it. I may still suffer it from it later, but maybe I can lessen the effect, if I could just get it out now." She looked up at him, half-fearful that he'd say no and half fearful he'd say yes.
"Oh dear." Hank sighed knowing he couldn't deny her request. He'd been the one to find her awake, the one who had introduced her to the team, and the one who had protected her from Logan. If only Moira had been there, he might not have found himself in this uncomfortable situation. But he couldn't foist this on his teammates. It wouldn't be fair to them or to her. She needed someone to talk to, so he must be there for her. Strengthening his resolve, he closed the door and went to sit by her. She had gone back to staring at her feet. He kept silent not wanting to rush her, hoping maybe she'd change her mind. Slowly she began to speak. She began her account at the moment she woke in the arena. She spoke quietly leaving little out of the story. Leaving little to the imagination. Hank listened, trying to stay objective, just here her out without becoming emotionally involved. Yet inside his emotions went from appalled to outraged, then saddeness to finally resignation. He had imagined beating Logan into oblivion. Then stringing his sorry hide up in the Danger Room and letting Aerin have her revenge. But as she began to describe Logan's tenderness toward her, his concern as he left the blanket and pillow, he began to see in Death the man Logan had been. Yes, Logan had been brutal, but there had been a pattern of remorse in the description Aerin gave. And Beast had watched the man sit by Aerin's bed, his face, and his body expressing the guilt he felt. Hank had no doubt Logan regretted the pain he had caused this girl. But he wondered at Logan's actions tonight. His arousal had been unmistakable. Henry grew concerned wondering what the consequences would be if Aerin stayed at the mansion. He was certain Professor Xavier would offer her a place on the team, a chance to master her mutant ability.
The point became moot as her heard her say, "It's why I have to leave. Tonight. I can't stay here. Everyone's been kind, especially you, Dr McCoy. But I can't be around him. It's too painful and I'm terrified of him and yet I'm drawn to him. If I saw him now, I wouldn't leave. And that can't be good for me, can it? It'd only hurt me in the end. In some screwed up way he'd have taken everything, even my will. I need to get my own life back. I need to know on my own that I'm safe or at least that I can survive. And I need time to take all this in, to understand what happened and somehow learn to accept it." She paused turning to look at him, begging him to understand. He could do nothing else.
"Of course, Aerin. I can't persuade you to stay after all that you've told me. Logan is a friend, but I'm ashamed of his actions towards you. When I saw you with him tonight, I felt a danger. Something warned me to come to your aid. I understand now. And I do believe you need to get your life back." He touched her on the shoulder squeezing it in encouragement.
"Then you'll help me get home tonight." she asked. He heard the urgency in her voice. She was afraid she might see Logan again, and all her plans would come to naught. But the night was late. He was tired, and driving her back to New York could be dangerous.
"Not tonight." he answered her, putting up his hand to silence her protest. "It's too late. It would be irresponsible on my part to bring you into the city at this late hour. I'll drive you in the morning. Early, so you won't have to say anything to anyone. I can make your excuses for you."
"I can't let you drive me." she said. "You've done enough already. I can't ask you to do that. If you could call a cab for me, I'd get home alright."
"Tish tosh." he answered back. "It would be my pleasure."
But something in her didn't want him to drive her home. She couldn't explain it. Fear perhaps. Being seen with him. A mutant. Was it too much to accept his offer knowing she was now a mutant?
"Please. I wish you wouldn't." He heard the anxiety in her voice, the plea for control. He realized what she could not explain. She needed to have some semblance of control. She needed to make some decisions for herself. So he backed off saying, "Very well. I'll call a cab for you, bright and early. I'll have them here by six. I'll have you up by five. Does that sound reasonable?" he asked.
She exhaled. "Yes. Thank you."
He stood up. "Now you need to get some rest. I'll go locate something for you to sleep in...oh," he put a hand to his chin thinking, "you'll need something to wear tomorrow. I couldn't let you go in that uniform. Someone might catch on to your secret identity."
She snorted in laughter. He grinned. That was better, he thought, making her laugh. "Now you go take a shower and I'll place the clothes on your bed. And don't worry I will have you up and away before anyone's the wiser." He finished and opened the door. He looked down at her seeing relief in her face. "I've got cash stashed away for emergencies...no...I insist." once again he stopped her protests. "And I'll give you my number in case you should need anything. Anything at all. Don't hesitate to call me." He wanted to add especially if some evil mutant were stalking her, but felt it might not be in good taste. Then he bounded from the room on his errand.
She undressed quickly and went into the bathroom. She stood for sometime looking at herself in the mirror thinking about all that had happened. Thinking about him. Would he come to her room tonight? She had felt such a longing for him when he had asked her forgiveness. She hoped he would not come looking for her. And she hoped he would. In spite of her freedom she was still his. She would never be rid of the thought of him. She'd long for him in the years to come. But she would fight for her life back. She'd fight for her freedom. Tomorrow she'd get away. Tonight, she'd lock the door, hoping it would discourage him should he come for her. She stepped into the shower and began washing away days of grime and memories.

 

Chapter Nine

Hank rapped on Aerin's door at precisely five o'clock the next morning. She rose swiftly and unlocked the door, peering out to make sure it was only Henry. When she saw him there alone she opened the door to let him enter.
"I've called a cab." he said reassuringly. "It'll be here in forty five minutes. Will the clothes be adequate?" he finished concerned that he had failed in his mission to acquire fashionable wearing apparel.
Now it was her turn to reassure him. "They're fine. I tried them on last night. They fit pretty well. A little long, but they'll work. I had to really tighten up the sandals, though. Do all X-women have huge feet?"
He laughed. "To my knowledge, yes. I think its part of the recruitment policy. Tall, buxom, with large feet." She grinned at his joke, then said, "Just give me a minute to get dressed."
"We'll have a little time before the cab gets here. I can get you something to eat. There shouldn't be anyone in the kitchen at this hour."
She was hungry she realized. She hadn't eaten much the night before. But she hesitated. "Are you sure no one'll be around?"
"I can't be certain." he answered truthfully, "But the odds are in our favor. And between you and me we ought to be able to hear anyone coming. Enough time to duck out the back." he winked.
She dressed quickly and they went stealthily down to the kitchen. No one was there. He offered to cook her bacon and eggs, but she declined, settling on a bowl of cheerios and a glass of orange juice. He helped himself to a couple of muffins and a glass of milk. They sat eating in a comfortable silence until the cab honked its arrival. Hank felt a twinge of sadness. He had come to like this girl. He liked that he could make her laugh. And he felt a fatherly concern for her welfare. He wondered if she would be okay, if she would get her life back in order after all that had happened to her. But he knew he couldn't ask her to stay. Not after all she had confided in him. Not with Logan here.
He stood up and walked her to the front of the mansion. "You have my number, Aerin." he said. "Please, again, don't hesitate to call. For anything. Even if you just need to talk." She smiled at him, wishing she could take his hand. As they reached the taxi, she pulled the sleeve of her sweater over her hand and reached up touching his cheek. Then she stood up on her toes and kissed the sleeve. "Thanks for everything." she said stepping into the cab. "I'll send you the money you lent me as soon as I get into town."
"Don't even think about It." he reprimanded. "Just concentrate on your life. I'll be here if you ever need me. So will the X-men" The cabby closed the door and Aerin waved. It sped off into the morning. Hank sighed watching until it disappeared around a bend in the driveway. Then he turned to see Logan racing out the door throwing on a plaid shirt. He had on jeans but no shoes. He stopped when he saw Henry. He growled, "Damn it, Hank, where'd she go?"
He didn't bother to ask why. He knew the reason well enough. He'd spent a sleepless night avoiding the others. He had prowled the grounds of the estate half the evening, terrifying the nocturnal animals left in his wake. Then he'd spent another hour destroying more fighter robots in the Danger Room. Finally he'd gone to look for her. It was easy enough finding her with his sense of smell. Her scent was cleaner, and Rogue's scent mingled with her's from the pajamas she wore, but he was at her door within minutes of the search. He heard the steady rise and fall of her breathing as she slept. He closed his eyes wanting her, needing her. He put a hand to the doorknob. It was locked. He had almost roared in frustration. He had almost ripped it down with his claws. But he had restrained himself, knowing it would only make things worse. It would only remind her of his brutality and the way he had taken her. He had to control his temper or he'd lose her for sure. So he left quietly, spending the rest of the night on his bed thinking of the things he would say to her to make her stay.
He should have heard Aerin and Hank going down stairs. He should have anticipated her leaving. But he had been so certain she'd be here for at least a few more days. When he heard the blare of the taxi's horn he knew instantly what it meant. Throwing on jeans and grabbing for a shirt he raced for the front door, hoping desperately to catch her. But as he saw Henry alone on the steps, all his hopes were dashed. She'd gone. Because of him. She had left because of him.
Henry approached him, knowing full well Logan might take out the frustration and anger written across his face on him. But he had to make Logan understand. And to keep him from going after Aerin.
"Let her go." he said calmly, soothingly. "It's what she wants. It's what she needs."
"Tell me where she went, Hank, or I swear I'll ram these claws into yer gut!" Logan raged popping his claws as proof of his intention.
"She told me everything, Logan. She told me everything you did to her." A brief flash of anger went through Henry but he suppressed it. His anger would only provoke Logan and it wouldn't keep him from going after Aerin. He had to appeal to Logan's humanity. And to shock him out of his fury. His words worked. They stopped Logan like a slap in the face. He stood up straighter and sheathed his claws starring at Hank. Sadness replaced the anger and frustration. "He ordered me to do It." he said so low Henry had to strain to hear. "I couldn't fight the compulsion. And I...I wanted to do it. A part of me did. He knew it. He knew what I am. A killer. And now...a rapist. Jeannie's right to hate me." He hung his head shaking it slowly.
"No, Logan." Henry said softly. "He was wrong. You're violent, that's true. You have demons I can't even imagine. But you're better than what he tried to make you into. You fought his conditioning and you won."
"I haven't won, McCoy. I've only pushed the beast back into its cage. It's only a matter of time before it gets out." Logan spoke, his voice filled with resignation, and continued to shake his head.
"I don't believe that!" Henry snapped. "If I did, I'd take it upon myself to personally eject you from the premises." He threatened. "And I won't let you use it as an excuse to go after Aerin." He watched Logan's head snap up in understanding. Hank lowered his tone. "She needs to get her life back. She needs to find that sense of control she once had. And she needs to get a handle on her confused conflicting emotions concerning you. She's at once terrified and infatuated by you. Being around you now would only add to her pain and confusion. You must let her go, Logan."
Logan swallowed hard, knowing Henry was right. It was the right thing to do. Perhaps his desire for her would lessen in time. Perhaps he could control the passion of the Death persona swirling within him. He'd fought his inner demons before and had hung on to his humanity. McCoy believed he could stay in control. Maybe he was right. All he could do was let her go and let time work its magic healing. He nodded to himself and then looked at Hank. "Now what?" he asked uncertain of how to begin redeeming himself.
"I believe a round of antics in the Danger Room should quell the tension of the past few moments." Henry narrowed his eyes. "And perhaps I could champion the Lady Aerin's virtue." Logan smiled slightly understanding Hank was offering him a chance to atone. Hank's physical presence was thoroughly intimidating when he chose to exert it. Logan accepted his offer. Now he would fight someone more capable of defeating him than Aerin had been.
"Afterward, I think you should speak to the Professor." Hank added. "Tell him everything and ask for his help. I believe he would be more than capable of helping you rid yourself of Apocalypse's conditioning." Logan growled at this ready to say that he didn't need any help. But the look in McCoy's eye was enough to silence him. He nodded again.
Henry went toward him and clapped an arm around Logan's shoulder. "And don't worry about Jean, my good man. She'll come around. She's not one to hate anyone for longer than a month or two. And once she sees the bruises I've inflicted on you, you'll get only sympathy from her." He grinned and led Logan back through the front door. "I've designed an absolutely wonderful program..." he started to say as Logan rolled his eyes towards heaven seeking salvation.

 

END

 

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