Empathy
Chapter 5
by
NYC
"Give You Back" by Vertical Horizon
I need to know if you were real/ 'cause I've been known to get it wrong
When the memory comes/ I'll say I'm always in the dark/ You got me now.
Chorus--
I want to give you back/ I want to give you back
Somewhere out of here
I want to give you/ I want to give you/ I want to give you back
I can't remember how it went/ you looked like everything I wanted
And as you came along/ Slowly everything began to change/ I got you now
(Chorus)
That's enough/ Just talking about it
I don't mind/ I don't mind, no I/
Laugh enough/ Just dreaming about it
I need to know if you were real/ I'd hate to think that I'd been fooled again
And as the vision fades/ I'll say I was blinded by your eyes/ I felt them burn
(Chorus)
There was a soft knock on his office door. Professor Xavier lifted his head and blinked. He'd dozed off reading his book and hadn't realized the hour. He glanced at the clock. After two. This was not going to have nice repercussions tomorrow, but he would handle it fine, like he always did.
The knock came again, more loudly. "Come," he said, clearing his throat in the process.
The large wooden door cracked open, and Melody stuck her head inside. The Professor arched an eyebrow, but was not displeased to see her. In fact, he'd been thinking about her just before he'd dozed off. This was her first night here, and already she felt comfortable enough to come and see him, and that pleased him immensely. He set the book on the table, and the lamplight caught the word etched in gold at its top.
*Empathy.*
"I think you wanted to see me," Melody said, frowning slightly, as if puzzled herself.
"Yes, in fact I do. Please come in."
She obeyed, lightly clicking the door shut behind her. She was dressed in sweats and a t-shirt, her hair hanging loose and free down her back. She had a natural, earthy beauty to her, especially this late at night, her features relaxed, her movements more graceful.
If there weren't so many complications, the Professor easily saw why Logan felt as strongly about her as he did. But Melody was obviously an extremely intelligent woman, not just in book smarts but in street smarts as well, an extremely rare combination. She knew better than to just jump back into a relationship, considering the circumstances.
But there was something else there--a deep sense of melancholy, depression. Like her gift had been a curse to her, just like all the others, but she had found a way to use it against itself. She had laid a blanket over her emotions. As a result, her emotions were getting... infected...somehow. It was a most curious development.
One the Professor felt compelled to stop.
"How are you settling in?" he asked lightly.
She settled into a chair in front of his desk, giving him a flippant smile. She pulled one knee to her chest and sighed. "You have a lovely place here, Professor. It beats my rat infested apartment."
"One of many," he said, not hesitating to get right to the point. "How long have you been on the move?"
"Since Ferro...since escaping the complex, with Logan," she said, catching herself.
"Fifteen years," the Professor mused. "That's a long time."
She shrugged. "I got used to it."
"I know." He considered her. "You know, there is an easier way to do this, if talking about it is too painful. I am psychic, you know, and with you being an empath, it would be quite easy--"
"No," she said, a bit sharply. An invisible shield lowered over her thoughts, and now the Professor felt like he was looking at her through a frosted glass. "I'm sorry, I just don't...I've worked rather hard to get where I am, and I don't know what will happen."
"You can trust me," he said gently. "I would never allow anything to happen to you that would harm you."
She gave a little laugh. "I know you wouldn't, Professor. You've been very kind...what you've done here is remarkable. But I'm just..." she sighed, rubbing her temples.
"How have you dealt with it?" he asked, conversationally. "I mean, I have an idea of your gift, but maybe you could explain a few things to me. You don't sense thoughts, only emotions."
"Usually emotions. Occasionally a thought is so strongly linked to an emotion that I can pick it up, too," she said, a bit flatly.
"And what level of control have you achieved?"
She shrugged again. "There are places I try to avoid. Like outdoor stadiums, when there's a concert or a sports event. There are too many people, and those sorts of things can get a bit overwhelming in the reactions they cause. It's not that the emotions are bad, not all the time, but they're so strong that they're unpleasant. And I only go to the movies when the crowds are really thin." She gave another little chuckle. "You know, I've kinda lost my taste for all of that stuff anyway, so I don't miss it."
The Professor nodded, understanding. "I can see why. But as for your own emotions-- how do you experience them? I mean, does your gift magify them as well?"
There was a signifigant pause before she answered. "There were times, a long time ago, when I didn't know what I was feeling. Ever. I didn't know if my feelings were mine or if they were someone else's. I learned how to control the more powerful feelings, shield myself. I started doing it all the time, even with my own. It sort of became addictive, feeling nothing." She sighed and smiled. "It can be a wonderful feeling, like silence after a big, loud ugly noise. And pretty soon, I started doing it all the time."
"But the human mind doesn't work like that," the Professor prodded. "And any addiction has repercussions."
She nodded. "Yeah. I tried opening myself up again, about a year ago. I did it in small windows. I think I did it just to feel something other than this numbing melancholy that I always had. It was like I was always waiting for something better to happen, like I had this longing that had no focus and no chance of fulfillment. I opened the windows around people I knew were happy just so I could remember what it was like. It felt good, but if I pushed the windows up too far I had a hard time closing them. So I exercised it every day, like a muscle. I'm able to keep a low level shield up most of the time, but being around here has kinda made it difficult."
The Professor frowned. "In what way?"
"So many people here...there's a lot of pain." She looked down at her feet and wiggled her toes nervously. "You know, being a mutant is not considered a blessing. A lot of people here have gone through hell and back and they're still struggling to cope. I'll bet you never knew that even Scott gets depressed sometimes, because of his eyes. And Rogue, that poor kid...if it wasn't for Logan I think she'd have fallen completely apart." Melody shut her eyes, wincing slightly. She remained quiet for so long that Professor Xavier leaned forward and gently spoke her name.
"I'm sorry," she sighed, relaxing. "I think the windows went up too far." She wiped some sweat from her brow. "Control in this place has been a bit harder, considering my company."
The older man nodded. "I understand. But you are safe here."
"Yeah, safe." Flat, lifeless. Like she didn't agree. He didn't press--if she had wanted to say it, she would have said it.
"So many years you've spent this way, without any training," Professor Xavier mused. "How have you handled it when people discover what you are?"
"What I am?" she challenged. "I didn't know there was a name for it."
"You are an empath. I don't think you believe that makes you a mutant, but you are an empath, at the very least."
She nodded. He sensed her gratitude at not pressing the mutant point. "Well, usually people like me. Too much. They don't suspect me of trying to harm them."
"And...have you ever?" he asked, so gently she was compelled to look at them.
"Never on purpose," she whispered.
"In what way?"
She squirmed. "Well...there have been times when I've been in situations that have been rather...sticky. Not having too many feelings can make you dull to what feelings you might be causing in others. I don't know if Logan's told you about his various adventures, but I've had a lot of the same, being in the places he's been. Some of those people aren't that pleasant. I've gotten attacked a few times."
"And how have you handled it?"
She hitched, afraid to answer. Finally, it came out of her, slowly. "I've absorbed their emotions."
He leaned forward, folding his hands on the desk before him. "Absorbed? Like Rogue?"
"Well...yeah. Not life forces, but emotions. If someone has gotten to the point where they aren't rational, all they're experiencing is feeling. Pure feeling. And it's usually not good. So I've had to absorb it, steal it from them." She shuddered. "It's not pleasant."
"I can imagine," he murmured. "What does it do to the person? Rogue's powers can be fatal, I know--"
"Well, it does knock them out," Melody conceeded. "I don't think it does any permanent damage, though."
"And what happens to you, when you do this?"
She sighed. "It depends. If I'm strong enough, I can...I don't know how to explain this...crush the emotion? On a mental level. I feel it myself briefly, but if I'm absorbing someone, deliberately and with that much force, I act more like a conduit, a transmitter. It goes more through me than into me."
"And where does it go?" he asked.
She shrugged. "I really don't know. But wherever it goes, it hasn't come back yet."
"Hmm," he said, considering this. "Do you think it might be possible for you to transfer it from one person to another?"
She looked at him incredulously. "Who'd want to?" she said. "It's usually all rage and insanity and the urge to hurt people. No one would want those things."
"True," he conceeded. "Well," he said, straightening, "this is extremely fascinating. I hope that someday you allow me to experience this first hand. As a telepath, I'm quite adept at reading peoples minds, and I know that emotions color things, but your gift is very distinctive."
"Yeah, tell me about it," she muttered.
"Really, Melody, this place was built to help people to control their gifts, use them for the better," he cajoled. "There is no reason why you can't do the same. I can help you--I believe that the same forms of exercise that I use can help you as well. You may discover gifts you haven't uncovered yet, things that could be real benefits not just to you but to the world."
"Well, the world ain't done nothing for me," she said rising. "I have to admit I'm not much inclined to giving something back to it."
He smiled at her. "Maybe after some training you'll feel differently. Many times I've come across those who were angry at the world because of what they were, only to see them turn right around and be anxious to do something real with them." He considered her with an open, comforting look. "You'd be amazed what the power of accomplishing something worthwhile can do."
She nodded. "Yeah, well...we'll see."
"Good. That's enough for me. I have a spare hour after my daily two o'clock lecture. We can work then."
Melody nodded. "I guess I've got nothing to lose."
"No, you don't," the Professor agreed, moving away from his desk "I'll see you tomorrow at three so we can begin. All right?"
"All right. G'night, Professor," Melody sighed, and left the study. As she was about to close the door, she hesitated.
"Yes?" Professor Xavier pressed gently.
"Nothing. It was nothing."
"Are you sure?"
"Yeah. G'night."
She shut the door, leaving an odd silence in her wake.
Jean was jolted out of a very heavy sleep and found when she looked at the clock that it was just past four in the morning. Not even the sun was awake yet.
The sound that had awakened her made Scott stir. Someone was out in the hallway. Someone in pain. Jean tenatively reached out with her mind and caught a flash--
*Stop them...someone stop them....*
She jerked upright, causing Scott to come fully awake. "What is it?" he rasped, rolling over, trying to get upright.
Jean didn't answer. Her feet hit the floor and she made a beeline for the door. Flinging it open, she saw what she had been afraid to see, what she had expected to see.
Melody was stumbling down the hallway, like she was drunk. One arm was raised and was dragging along the wall above her, her finger nails scraping the wood. She was gasping and panting and words were flying out of her mouth, but it was all gibberish, none of it made sense.
Logan was already out there, running down the hall, but Melody didn't see him. He froze, as if pushed back by some invisible hand. Jean strode forward, but she felt it too, like a hand against her chest, bouncing her away.
"What's going on?" Scott said, emerging from the dark room behind them.
That was when Melody collapsed, her feet giving out from under her, her knees slamming the hard tile of the floor painfully. She moaned, burying her face in her arms, her hair sticking to her back in damp, sweaty clumps.
The hand that held them back disappeared. Logan reached her first, getting his arms under hers and gently pulling her away from the wall, getting her to lie down on the floor, her head in his lap. She was soaked from head to foot, Jean realized, and she was trembling like there was an electric current in her body. There was foam at the corners of her mouth, and her eyes were tightly shut, as if she were locked in some sort of nightmare.
A nightmare would have been such a nice, easy solution, Jean realized. She knelt down at Melody's feet and reached out one hand to her cheek.
The contact was like fire. Jean reeled, the intensity of the emotion snarling up at her like an angry cobra. She blinked several times, realizing that Logan had spared one arm to reach out and steady her. Scott was beside her in a heartbeat.
"Would someone please tell me--"
"Outside," Jean rasped, realizing that she could hardly talk. She felt like she'd been running, running, running for hours on end and that her throat would shatter from lack of water. "Go to the back door--"
For a moment, Scott just stared at them, confused.
Then, suddenly, Melody's eyes flew open and she sat bolt upright, forcing everyone back a few inches. She looked right at Scott, the wrath of God on her face, contorting it.
"GO!" she screamed.
Scott turned on his heel and ran for the door.
Melody's body fell backwards in Logan's embrace like a ragdoll. Her lead lolled to the side, but she did not lose consciousness. She continued to mutter, her limps twitching restlessly.
Logan stood and scooped her up into his arms, one under he knee and the other under her back. Jean got to her feet. "Do you need help?" she asked, a bit weakly.
"No, go help Scott," Logan ordered roughly.
"Are you sure?"
"Jean," he said, looking at her with uncharacteristic impatience--at least, for a look at her it was uncharacteristic--"I'll take care of her. Okay? You take care of your priorities, I'll take care of mine."
Without another word, he turned and headed back to his room, Melody firmly in his grip.
Jean shook herself to clear her head, and then took off running after Scott.
Melody opened her eyes, feeling like there were a thousand needles hovering outside her eyelids just waiting to stab into her when she awoke. She rubbed them--or at least she would have rubbed them if she hadn't felt an unfamiliar pressure on her arm.
She turned her head, realizing that she was all stiff. Her muscles ached, her body felt like it had been used to rewire a circut board. Her mouth was dry and her hair felt like it was choking her.
There were fingers against her throat, moving the offending locks away. "You all right?" came a raspy voice.
Melody turned her head a bit more. She couldn't see him, but she knew it couldn't be anyone else. "Logan?" she whispered. "Where am I? What happened?"
"You had some sort of an attack," he explained, straightening. It allowed Melody to roll over a bit onto her back. It felt better. "We found you in the hallway..."
Melody groaned and flung an arm over her eyes. "Wonderful," she muttered. "Just wonderful."
"Do you know what happened?" Logan asked
Melody lowered her hand, felt the stickiness of dried sweat. "If you could get me a drink of water," she said, "I'd really appreciate it."
He nodded, standing up and going to the small private bathroom in his quarters. He returned with a plastic cup, and after handing it to her, he stretched out beside her, propping himself up on one elbow and supporting his hand with his fist. He waited patiently, letting his previous question hang in the air.
She finished drinking, sighed and crumpled the empty cup. "I went to talk to the Professor last night. I couldn't sleep. When I was done, I thought I sensed something, so I went back to my room to see if I could somehow figure out what it was. I wound up touching... something...no, it was someone. I know it was a person. They were running, being chased. They were so afraid..." she shuddered, remembering. "They thought they were going to die. I told them to come here, but it was so hard...so much effort...I couldn't..." her throat closed again, and she put her arm across her mouth, trying to stiffle the tears. Logan curled his arm around her, pulling her closer to him. She leaned into his warmth, taking advantage of the comfort he offered.
There was a soft knock at the door. Logan grunted loud enough for the person to hear, and the light from the hallway revealed Scott standing in the doorway.
"I don't want to interrupt," he said, his voice strained, "but I think that maybe...you should see this, Melody."
Melody tried to sit up, but it was too painful. Logan rubbed her back as she rolled over, burying her face in a nearby pillow.
"Maybe later, Scott," Logan said. "What did you find?"
"Well, just tell her that the boy is fine," Scott said, his voice low. "I think she might have saved his life."
Jean rubbed her neck. This was rather crazy, but she had long since gotten used to crazy. Somehow, in some way, Melody had done it. But how she had done it remained to be understood.
Jean knew perfectly well that the woman didn't want her gift--none of them did. Not even Jean. Maybe Melody thought that she was different, but she wasn't. It was a shame that Melody didn't like her--the two of them could have been great friends. They weren't so different, Melody just had to find a way to control herself. It was rather frightening to think that her empathic gift was so powerful that it could cause her so much pain. Jean had had to work long and hard to develop her gifts. That Melody's was so well developed seemed unfair if it wasn't tempered by the fact that development didn't always mean controlled. She had to learn control before it drove her insane.
Maybe Jean was different from the others. She didn't have unwanted visions, she didn't wake up in the middle of the night and have epileptic-like siezures caused by unexpected guests running for their lives and happening upon your mind, just wandering about on a nightly stroll. She had only caught a glimpse of Logan's pain, but she had seen it well enough to know that Melody's presence here was a like a balm to his angry, wandering spirit. A balm countered only by the fact that Melody believed it was only yet another unwanted (or maybe not so unwanted, more like unnatural) side affect of her empathic gift.
Straightening, Jean pulled off her white doctor's coat and slung it over a nearby hook. This was it, she was going to call it an early afternoon and go take a nap. The boy, no more than ten, a runaway who had been chased by a rather angry mob to the point where he'd been in a blind, panicked run that led him, with Melody's help, to the School, had kept her up for a considerable part of the night. He'd been restless, wandering. Jean had sensed he wanted Melody and had sent Scott to go get her, but Logan had refused to let them push her. And she hadn't really been up for it. Jean had checked on her herself a short while later to find the two of them curled up and in a deep, soothing sleep. Logan hadn't done more than twitched at her entrance.
How rare, indeed.
Stepping out of the sharp lights of the lab, Jean headed up the stairs. She heard voices-- soft voices, followed by a laugh she didn't recognize. She quickened her pace and came into the large main sitting room to find Melody sitting on one of the tables, another mysterious boy beside her. Melody raised her head at Jean's approach, her smile fading a bit but not disappearing.
"Hey," Jean said, giving them a warm smile. She looked at the boy. Then the blinked and looked again. This was not "another mysterious boy," she realized. It was the same one from earlier. But he looked completely different.
He looked calm. Relaxed. Content. "Hi Dr. Grey," he chirped. Three words strung together in coherent sentence. That was the first time she'd heard it.
Melody patted the boy's shoulder. "Hope you don't mind, we were just talking." She looked down at the boy. "Stevie, maybe you want to go with Dr. Jean now. I think I hear some chocolate chip cookies calling your name."
His face brightened, and impulsively the boy threw his arms around Melody's waist and hugged her, then let go and hopped off the table. Only he didn't really hop. He more like floated. Gently.
Jean blinked. "Yeah," she said. "I can get you a snack. You want some milk, too?"
"Cookies always go with milk," the boy said. Five words. Complete sentence. She tried to hold back her surprise, but she could see Melody trying not to giggle.
"That's right," Melody said.
The boy--Stevie--gave Melody a last look. "Will you still be here?" he asked.
"I don't have any plans to leave yet," Melody assured him. "But don't worry, you can trust Dr. Grey like you trust me. She's here to help."
The boy nodded, satisfied with that, and took Jean's hand. A bit stunned, she led him to the kitchen and got him a snack. Pretty soon, Ororo came in, and the boy started talking to her, attracted to her white hair. Jean asked Ororo to stay with him for a few minutes, reassured Stevie she would be back, and headed back out to find Melody.
She caught her absentmindedly playing with the pool balls. "Poor kid," Melody muttered. "You do one of your little tests on him?"
"He was too upset last night, I was going to try today," Jean said.
Melody nodded. "He'll cooperate. But to warn you, don't get him upset. He's got this ability to blow things up. That's what happened last night--he blew up his house. And then when the police came to try and help, he paniced and blew up their cars. Some locals figured out he was a mutant and tried to..." she shuddered, then pushed it off. "Nevermind. It wasn't nice. Anyway, that's how he got here."
"Where did this happen?" Jean asked.
"Way across town. I'm sure it's in the papers."
Just then, as if on cue, Scott came in. "Jean, did you see this?" he asked, clutching the newspaper. "I think this is our runaway."
Jean looked back at Melody again. "Did he tell you all of this?" Jean asked softly.
"Yeah," Melody said, glancing out the window.
"Because last night he couldn't talk," Jean said. "He was so traumatized I was worried that he wasn't going to be able to speak for days."
"Then why did you let him wander around on his own?" Melody returned, a bit testily.
"I didn't," Jean returned. She looked at Scott. "I thought I left him with you."
Scott threw up his other hand. "Hey, don't look at me. I turned around and I saw him sitting with Melody. I figured it was cool."
"It was, once he calmed down," Melody said, a bit drolly. "He told me everything."
"But how?" Jean asked, shaking her head.
Melody shrugged. "I don't know. He trusted me. It just all snowballed from there." And with that, she left them both, looking at each other in amazement.
It was about midday when Melody wandered downstairs, into the training rooms. She could hear someone hitting practice bags with unusual strength and a good deal of nervous tension.
She caught a familiar scent on the current of the cooling generators. It was Logan.
She came into the room, watching him carefully, not wanting to break his concentration. It was rather amazing, watching him go. He looked like he had been brawling all his life, and yet his style had a certain pattern to it, like a mixture of all things, the best of everything wound together to give him an edge no one else had.
She wasn't surprised to realize what a fighter he was. It just gave her a nasty pang to realize that it was yet another thing that she never would have imagined coming from her one- time Ferro.
Good Lord, how he had changed. Even his face seemed different, all angry lines and scowls, his hair bushier, his frame larger and more well-muscled. She had noticed the change fifteen years ago when she'd gotten him out of that compound, but hadn't imagined it would be so completely and utterly--overwhelming.
He was not her Ferro. It was a fact she had to face. And yet, this new person seemed so much like him, like Ferro's spirit was there, awakened by her presence.
He paused. He knew she was there. Maybe he'd known the second she walked him. Knowing about his senses as she did, she didn't doubt it. He turned and looked at her over his shoulder. A small smile smoothed over the angry lines, lightening the air about him. "Hey," he said.
"Hey," she said in return, stepping closer.
He reached for a nearby towel and slung it over his shoulders, drying the sweat. He swaggered closer to her. "How're ya feeling?" he asked.
That was another thing...the way he talked. Of course, he'd been around quite a bit in the last fifteen years, from what she'd heard. But it was rougher...the Ferro she knew had only had the influence of Andrew and his flowery speech. Even his voice itself was darker, more guarded, as if wanting to threaten everyone who heard it. But when he talked to her, she could hear the growl softening.
"Fine," she said. She gave him a smile. "I wanted to thank you."
He seemed puzzled. "For what?"
"For taking care of me last night," she sighed, looking down at her hands.
"Oh." Confusion. She sensed it from him, thick like coming rain. "You don't have to thank me. It was nothing."
"No, it was," she protested softly. Why couldn't she look at him? Her brain wouldn't let her eyes leave her hands, which were fiddling with each other nervously, like a school girl. "You didn't have to."
Okay, that got him. She felt a distinct spark of anger. "Mel," he said, a bit impatiently, "don't you have any idea what you mean to me?"
She winced. "Don't bring that up, please."
"Why not?" He cupped her face in his hand, bringing it up to meet his eyes. She wished she could shut out what she saw there--it just hurt too much. "It's there. We have to deal with it."
She pulled away from his grip. "You didn't even remember me before a few days ago," she pointed out. "You can't expect us to just fall back into old patterns. You don't need me anymore, not like you did."
"No, not like I did," he agreed. "But I still need you."
"No," she whispered. "You really don't." She paused, and then said, "Logan," and the name hurt for some bizarre reason, "you need to get on with your life. I mean, what have you been doing for the last fifteen years other than searching for answers? You've got the memories, your Professor would be more than happy to help you clear them up. You've met me, you remember what we had, but it's over. It's a part of the past." She finally looked at him. "I'm a part of the past. You have to let me go."
He shook his head, stubborn. "You aren't just the past, Mel," he said.
"Yes, I am," she protested. "Look, you're feeling all kinds of attached to me because of what I represent--"
"Oh, don't start that psychobabble again," he said, stepping away and holding up a hand. "Look, you want to fight on that level, I'll give it to ya straight. If you really represented the past, it would be all pain and fighting and being confused, because that's how I remember everything. I remember you being the one who cared about me, that showed me that I was worth somethin', that I was somethin' important." His eyes softened. He looked like he wanted to hug her. He was going all soft, he knew it wasn't like him and yet he had no desire to stop it around her. "You don't know how much you did for me. I could never repay you."
She sighed, frustrated. "You don't have to repay me, Logan," she all but snapped. "I didn't do it for payment. Besides," she added bitterly, "I failed anyway."
"What?" Puzzlement. "How?"
She looked down again. She told him about how they had lost him, how she had buried him in the snow and then passed out, not coming to in time to save him.
As she spoke, Logan remembered the pain of waking up in the snow. She felt it against her mind like sandpaper. "See?" she whispered. "I failed you. You've spent the last fifteen years of your life wandering with hardly anything to show for it, and all because I didn't wake up in time."
He nodded, considering her words. "It wasn't your fault, though," he pointed out. "Dr. Logan--" and she could feel his continuing confusion over his memories of that man--"didn't tell you what he was going to do. You may be empathic but you're not psychic. You couldn't have known."
"Yeah, well..." she shuffled her feet, "it's a sorry excuse for a big mistake." She looked at him again, and said, "I am sorry."
"Well, ya've got plenty of time t'make it up t'me." He gave her a small smile, and reached out, his hands warm on her shoulders, pulling her closer.
Melody lowered her face into her hands, templing her fingers against the inside corners of her eyes. "Logan," she moaned, "please. I am the past. You have to let me go. Start your real life. You don't know what it will be like now. You don't know the repercussions of what you've been through over the last few days. Things are going to change for you, and I can't stand in your way."
"You're not," he said, determined. "Look, Mel, I'm not the kinda guy who lets himself get suckered into things, not ever. I don't do nothin' I don't want to. I don't give in to imagined feelings of guilt--if I felt like I was doin' this just to make you happy, I certainly wouldn't be begging you like I am."
"I've heard this speech," she muttered, lowering her hands.
He pulled her closer, forcing her face up to his. "Then I'll stop talking," he said, and kissed her.
As his lips pressed against hers, warm and tender and loving, Melody found herself relaxing. She felt herself sliding back to that time when he had first kissed her, to the days she had spent with him, in a terrible mixture of heaven and hell, happy to be with him, discovering him, helping him grow, being chased by him, feeling so remarkably and twistedly lucky every time she realized how beautiful and innocent and pure he was....
But that wasn't now. This man was different. It was the same man, but it wasn't the one she knew. She needed time. She got her arms up between them and pulled away.
She wanted to say something that would make him let her go, but instead she was held captive by his gaze. Finally, he spoke.
"Maybe you should tell me right now why you want to run away from me," he said. "If you don't want me, that's fine. I'll back off. But if you don't get your signals straight you're gonna drive me nuts. So you have to tell me now....what is it?"
She wanted to tell him that she didn't love him, that he was different, that she refused to be trapped. She even wanted to insult him if it would get him to stop looking at her like that, with such tenderness and caring. But instead she didn't have any words. She could only shake her head, baffled and mute.
"That's what I thought," he whispered, gently letting her go. She stumbled away, trying to steady herself. He didn't move as she took a few more steps, and a few more, and a few more, until she was all but running out of the room and as far away from him as she could get.
It was a nice afternoon, and Melody found a quiet, solitary bench out under a tree that was just beginning to blossom. It was late autumn, and she could feel winter beginning its slow descent upon this place.
The children were running and laughing and playing soccer somewhere off in the distance. It was a pleasant, happy sound, and Melody let it sing to her, like a lullabye. They had few cares, no real worries, and were just enjoying what time Indian summer had bequeathed to them. She shut her eyes, letting the breezes cool her fevered brain.
Where had she gone wrong? She'd had a whole routine planned out, where she was going to explain to Logan all the problems and the reasons why he should just let her go, even in glorious detail, but somehow it had slipped out of her control.
How could this be so hard, breaking it off with someone? In her youth, guys had run from her faster than she could even count. Leave it to this one to cling tight.
He just didn't get it. Well, she was going to make him get it. She didn't want to spend the rest of her life with someone wondering if it was her or if it was her gift, or some feeling of guilt, or some sort of dependency. She wasn't going to chain him to her because he felt he owed her something for a past that was long since dead. Maybe she should just patiently wait it out, she realized, and eventually, when things settled in that dog-eared brain of his, he would figure it out on his own, and actually thank her for not letting him make the biggest mistake of his life.
There were footsteps behind her, and Melody instinctively reached out with her mind, expecting it to be Logan and wanting to get her defenses up. What she touched was a more gentle sort of curiosity, and Melody turned around to see Rogue looking at her.
"Hi," she said. "Ah'm not botherin' you, am Ah?"
"Oh," Melody said, startled. "No, not at all. Can I--"
"Well," Rogue said, a bit hesitantly, "this is just where Ah do all my homework."
Melody looked down at the bench. She scooted over. "Have a seat," she said.
"If you're sure you don't mind," Rogue said, coming over and settling down. "Ah'm sorry, Ah just didn't know you were out here."
"S'okay, really," Melody said, giving the girl a smile. For some reason, she found herself drawn to Rogue. There was a deep suffering there, but it wasn't needy or clinging.
Of course, she also couldn't touch anyone. That had to be rough.
"It's Marie, isn't it?" Melody ventured carefully.
Rogue gave her a rather startled look, then smiled again. "Yeah," she said, "but Ah like Rogue better."
Melody nodded. "Bet you don't even feel like Marie anymore...I guess it's okay to change your name under those circumstances. I considered it myself for a while, but I couldn't think of anything that I felt worked."
"Hmm," Rogue said, considering. "Well, maybe Ah could think up something, if ya really want to you."
Melody shrugged. "Nah, everyone knows me as Melody already. Funny, I never felt like a Melody." She gazed out as the breezes played with the hanging tree brances, making the leaves do their falltime dance. A few fluttered off their branches, their bright colors flashing in the sun before they reached their resting places on the ground.
"Yeah, Ah never felt like a Marie, either," Rogue agreed, setting her books down. Melody could feel the slightest bit of tension--Rogue and Logan were close, and Rogue was obviously protective, but this wasn't hostility.
If Melody didn't know any better, she'd have sworn that Rogue wanted to play matchmaker.
"That was quite a story you and Logan told yesterday," Rogue began. "It sounds like some sort of novel or something."
"Yeah, science fiction," Melody murmured, but she gave Rogue an easy smile. "It was a long time ago."
"Not to Logan, not really," Rogue said. "Ah mean, he's just remembering it, and it all feels like yesterday to him."
"It'll wear off," Melody said flatly.
"Ah suppose...Ah wonder what's gonna happen then."
Melody shrugged. "I don't know."
There was a pause as Rogue carefully calculated her next question. "Ah heard about what happened yesterday, with Stevie. Logan told me you'd somehow guided him to the school."
"He did, huh?" Melody said. "I didn't realize he was part of the gossip circle."
"Oh, it wasn't like that," Rogue said quickly. "Ah all but had to make him tell me."
Melody rounded her gaze onto Rogue. "Who else did he tell, do you know?"
"Well, Dr. Jean was kinda insistent. I think she might be looking for you right now."
Melody lifted the corner of her mouth. "Well, don't tell her where I am."
"You don't like Dr. Jean?" Rogue asked.
"Oh, what's not to like?" Melody said, looking away. "Beautiful, smart, good at everything...no reason in the world for someone like me to hate her guts."
Rogue giggled. "Those are strong words," she said.
"Yeah, I suppose they are," Melody said, grinning. "You like her, though."
Rogue gave a little shrug. "Sometimes. She's been so nice to me, helping me and all."
"With what?" Melody took in Rogue's long gloves and the scarf around her neck. "Your touching thing?"
"That's a different way to put it," Rogue said.
Melody sighed. "I guess it would be rough...me, I feel like I can't stop touching people." Her voice slowed down a bit as her gaze landed on Rogue again. Wow...how easy would that be? Just reach out and grab the girl and not let go...Rogue would have her memories, from what Logan had told her, and Rogue could help him sort out his messy mind. And she could rest...
Forever...
She shook the thought off. Rogue was talking. "....hard to feel what everyone else is feeling," she said. "But Ah can relate. When Ah touch people Ah know what they're feeling...Ah can feel them inside my head for a long, long time."
"Like Logan?" Melody said softly.
The other nodded. "Yeah."
"And what do you see there?" Melody asked, lowering her eyes. "How long ago was it when it happened?"
"Well, it happened about six months ago," Rogue said, "but to answer your first question, when Ah heard your story, a lot of it made sense to me. Logan can be like two people sometimes. I think he just found his other half."
When Rogue stopped and didn't continue, Melody was finally compelled to look at her. Rogue was looking back with those brown eyes of hers, and for an uneasy moment it was like Logan was looking at her, too, right through the girl.
She straightened. "What do you mean?" she asked stupidly.
Rogue shrugged. "Ah don't know. Ah just know Logan. He'd never do or say anything he didn't mean." She began fiddling with her books. "When Ah first came here, when Ah first touched him, it caused a lot of trouble."
"Yeah, I heard about that," Melody said softly.
Rogue nodded, and Melody felt the girl's appreciation for not having to go into depth with that part of the story. "Well, Ah was gonna run away, but Logan found me and brought me back. He told me he'd take care of me." She giggled. "This from the guy who tried to throw me out of his trailer when Ah hitched a ride without permission. It was quite a 180." She sighed, taking in the cool breeze. "Logan's not afraid of a lot of things that would scare away most people. He's worked long and hard to be tough, and it's a part of him. But he's still just as human as you or me. He'd never let himself get caught up in something he didn't want on some level."
"Yeah," Melody murmured, "but what level? He's just as human as you or me, Rogue, but how human is that? I'm so sick of everyone feeling everything all the time...maybe one of the reasons I hate Dr. Jean is that she can think her way through so much. I can't. I've always got these emotions all over me, clouding everything. If they're not mine, they're someone elses. I tried to get rid of mine and it didn't work, so now I gotta start all over again, but I'm so sick of it. Just for once, I want something concrete, something real, something I can think my way through and understand with my brain, not my stupid mutant power." She sighed, covering her eyes with one hand. "I'm sorry, I don't mean to unload on you like this."
"It's okay," Rogue said gently. "You gotta sometimes."
"Yeah," Melody said, chuckling dryly. Then she said, lowering her hand, "You know, that's the first time I ever admitted it."
"Admitted what?"
"That I'm a mutant." It hurt to say it, hurt like the words were thick blocks of jagged glass sliding up her throat. "But I am. I feel like one."
"Welcome to the club," Rogue said, smiling softly.
"Yeah," Melody said, straightening. She reached out and grasped Rogue's hand, a guesture that startled and immensely pleased the younger woman. "Thanks, Rogue," she said. "I'll be seeing you."
And she got up and headed back toward the mutant school, realizing she could no longer put off the inevitable.
"Scott?"
Scott Summers looked up from where he was putting the finishing touches on his motorcycle. Logan had taken good care of it, but the inevitable wear and tear of six months of steady use had to be addressed, and he'd finally gotten some time to do it.
Across the garage, Melody was approaching.
"Hey," he said, smiling. He didn't know why, but he liked this girl. Even if she was tight with Logan.
"Hi," Melody said, pausing, her hands clasped behind her back. "I was wondering if I could ask you a huge favor," she said.
"Sure, what?"
Melody sighed and looked down at the bike. "I was wondering if I could borrow your cycle. Just for a few days. I need to take care of some business back at home, and my car got left at the bar where Logan and I met. So I have no way to get there."
"Uh," Scott hesitated, "do you know how to ride a bike."
She gave him a rather mysterious smile. "Yeah."
He seemed impressed. "Why do I get the feeling that there's a story behind this?"
"Well," Melody said, shifting her feet a bit, "I rode with some bikers for a while, back about seven or so years ago," she admitted. "But it's a long story, and I really needed to get moving now."
"Now?" Scott said, looking at his cleaned up cycle. "Have you told anyone else you were leaving?"
Melody shook her head. "I'll tell the Professor, but I was hoping to slip out quietly."
"What about Logan?"
"What about him?" she said a bit sharply. "I don't know what you're thinking, Scott, but Logan and I aren't...what you think we are."
"Oh." The mood of the room shifted. Melody stepped closer to him, a look of pain on her face.
"Scott," she said softly, "you don't have to worry, you know. Logan or not, Jean loves you. She's not about to leave you. Just because she finds Logan attractive doesn't mean he's a real threat."
"Yeah, I know," Scott said, but somehow, when Melody said it, he really believed it. "Okay, you can borrow the bike. But you aren't going to be gone too long, are you?"
"A week at most," Melody promised. She beamed at him as he handed her the keys. "You won't regret it, Scott, I promise. She won't get a scratch."
Scott nodded. "All right." As she turned to head up the back stairs and go tell the Professor, Scott called to her. "Melody," he said, "you are going to come back, aren't you?"
She seemed a bit thrown off by his question. "I said I would," she said softly. "I know you haven't even known me for three days, but I promise you, I'm not the kind of girl to run off with people's stuff."
"Okay," Scott said, accepting that. "Good luck."
"Thanks." She tossed him another smile and then disappeared through the back door.
After she left, Scott realized that he really didn't want to be around when Logan found out that she was gone. And on his bike, no less.
*Oh, great.*
Maybe they should change his name from Cyclops to Sucker, he thought.
"If you're sure that's what you want to do," the Professor had told her at the very end of their first session. Only one session, and she was feeling a little better, a little more in control of herself. But then again, she had told Professor Xavier right up front what she was going to do, so he had modified their time together to really give her something concrete to use. He'd been disappointed, and worried, and a bit frustrated, but more importantly, he'd been genuinely sad to see her go. Even though she promised him she was coming back. He believed her, and then she realized it wasn't really her he was worried about--it was Logan.
It was going to really hurt him to realize she hadn't even said goodbye. And Melody felt bad about that. But she couldn't bear to tell him. He would fight with her, try and make her stay, or worse yet, insist on going with her. He just didn't get it.
No one could. It was too messed up for even her to figure out, and it was her life. Besides, where she was going, it was not a good idea for Logan to follow. Not yet, at the very least.
The mansion wasn't too far away from where she'd been living for the last twenty-odd days. Maybe five, six hours on the bike. Logan had used the cycle's "superspeed," or whatever it was really called, but she hesitated, not sure if she'd be able to control the thing at such a rate. She'd learned a lot of things over the last fifteen years, but she had a feeling that it would have been unwise to push it. So she settled into the ride, having nothing else to do but watch the road and think.
* * * * *
"Why did you lie to me?" she asked him, her voice terse in the stillness of the car. "I mean, not that you'd have any real reason to tell me the truth, I know I'm not really that important in your big scheme of things, but since I've been running the harder part of this race for you, I think I have a right to know."
Andrew sighed, a thin cloud of mist filling the space before him. He didn't have the heat up very high, and she was shivering in the thick coat he had provided for her. They'd both been too quiet for the last hour, since realizing that Ferro was nowhere to be found. They'd searched a bit, calling for him, but the footprints hadn't led anywhere--they'd been wiped out by something, maybe the wind, maybe an animal, maybe other humans. And they couldn't stick around too long to keep looking, or else they were going to be caught themselves, and what good would that do anyone?
"If it makes you feel better," he said, his tone uncharacteristically gentle, "you aren't the only one I've told that lie to. I've been telling it since the very beginning. But certain people found it out."
She considered this statement, as earth-shattering as it was. "So you've been telling everyone that your son is your clone," she said, "as what, some kind of perverted joke? Or is it a mad-scientist thing?"
He flashed her a look--he seemed almost amused. "Both, maybe. The truth is, and you should know that I am telling the truth now," he added, giving her another pointed look, "I did it for reasons too complicated to explain. I was experimenting with cloning. We were going to clone a human being and see if we could create a mutant from a non-mutant. We'd tried various methods, none of which worked. I thought that adding just a touch of animal DNA might be enough to help the process, considering some mutants had animal-like qualities that made them so extraordinary. It failed...and in my frustration, well, Ferro came about."
"Who was his mother?" she asked softly.
"A woman I knew from my schooling days. She and I were quite close, but she didn't know about my work. When Ferro was born, she was a bit horrified, and when he began growing so quickly I had to explain to her...what I was."
"A mutant," Melody said. The word was like a sharp rock being flung at his forehead.
"Yes."
After a pause, Melody asked, "What happened to her?"
"I tried to hide her, but she wouldn't have it. She didn't want anything to do with me or my experiments, she didn't want anything to do with Ferro. She left me, I don't know where she went. I was left with a child and no explanation, and I didn't want to tell the truth because I was afraid they would hunt her down. So I lied."
"How did you cover it up?" Melody demanded. "I mean, you were working with other doctors...they would have known that it was a load of crap about you creating a successful clone."
"They were more content to take credit. We concocted a story, a group of four of my colleagues and I. Every else was kept in the dark, but I think someone got a guilty conscience. They approached me about a year ago and asked me questions I couldn't explain away. And I can explain just about anything," he added with a touch of pride. "The long and the short of it was, that if by reproducing, I was able to sire a creature more powerful than myself, what would happen if that creature in turn sired something else? So we began making plans."
"The house," Melody said flatly. "You began setting a trap."
"You make it sound so sneaky," he said. "Like we were making a spider's web. We tried to just let things happen naturally. We set up that lady doctor Ferro told you about, but she didn't play along. So we had to search elsewhere, make the experiment more controlled."
"You mean a prison," Melody said coldly. "And how exactly did I wind up the lucky contestant? Or was it pure coincidence? I somehow doubt that someone like you would rely on pure, dumb luck."
He looked at her, all the while keeping the car perfectly straight on the road. "Mel," he said softly, "do you think that we've been blind to you all these years? My employers have been watching mutants since you were born. We find hospital records, school records, doctor's records, psychiatrist's records, anything we can. We follow, we observe, and we do it all without anyone really knowing. We know where the mutants are. How do you think we were able to conduct so many successful experiments? We knew what to look for, and how to look for it."
She paled. "You knew about me?"
"Yes," he said. "You were reported missing a few hours before you wandered into our neighborhood. We didn't have a lot of time, but I knew what kind of air to create to draw you in. .It was largely coincidence, to be honest, but it was the sort we knew how to use."
Now she was completely white. "You've been watching me for a long time," she whispered, barely able to keep her voice steady. She looked away, gripping the dashboard. "My God....I don't even want to know the rest."
"That's pretty much the worst of it," he said, his voice warmer, more comforting. "Mel," he added, reaching over and touching her shoulder, even as she flinched under the contact, "for what it's worth, I never had any intention of letting anything or anyone hurt you."
She glared at him. "Oh, yeah, I'm supposed to believe that," she said.
"You're here, aren't you?" he whispered. "I'm not taking you back. We're heading out of town. I know a place where we can hide for a while, somewhere they won't look."
She felt dizzy. She put her head in her hands, trying to keep the world from spinning out of control. They'd known about her...about what she could do...all the doctors her parents had sent her to over the years, they'd been watching, observing, recording. They knew all her secrets, things she didn't even know about herself.
And worst of all, they thought she was a mutant.
"I'm not, you know," she said, her voice low, hard.
"Not what?"
"A mutant," she spat. She glared at him. "I'm not a mutant. Just because I'm a bit sensitive to how people feel, that doesn't make me a mutant, you know."
He shrugged. "Believe what you want. You will anyway."
She didn't speak to him again for the rest of the drive.
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