Empathy's Echo
Chapter 6
by
NYC
Disclaimer: All X-men and X-villians are Marvel's characters. Please don't sue me.
"Leave," by Matchbox 20
It's amazing/ how you make your face just like a wall.
How you take your heart and turn it off/ how I turn my head and lose it all
It's unnerving/ how just one move puts me by myself
There you go just trusting someone else/ now I know I put us both through hell.
I'm not saying/ there wasn't nothing wrong
I just didn't think you'd ever get tired of me
I'm not saying/ we ever had the right to hold on
I just didn't wanna let it get away from me
But if that's how it's gonna leave/ straight out from under me
then we'll see who's sorry now
If that's how it's gonna stand, when/ you know you've been depending
On the one you're leaving now/ On the one you're leaving out.
It's aggravating/ how you threw me on/ and you tore me out
how your good intentions turn to doubt/ the way you needed time to sort it out
I'm not saying/ there wasn't nothing wrong
I just didn't think you'd ever get tired of me
I'm not saying/ we ever had the right to hold on
I just didn't ever wanna let you get away from me
But if that's how it's gonna leave/ straight out from under me
then we'll see who's sorry now
If that's how it's gonna stand, when/ you know you've been depending
On the one you're leaving now/ On the one you're leaving out.
Tell me is that how it's going to end/ when you know you've been depending on
the one you're leaving now/ And the one you're leaving out.
"Stop," ~by Matchbox 20
Yes it's true that I believe/ I'm weaker than I used to be
I wear my heart out on my sleeve/ and I forget the rest of me
Yes there's times I've been afraid/ and there's no harm in that I pray
'Cause I'm more frightened every day/ someone will take what hope I have away
But you gotta give it up to get off sometimes.
You gotta give it up to get off sometimes.
You gotta give it up to get off sometimes, I know.
And all the times I've given in/ you fit me like a second skin
and one by one I will begin/ to wear you on the days I'm feeling thin
You'd better stop...stop...stop/ Using me up
You'd better stop...stop...stop/ 'Cause I've had enough
And I'm ready to forget the reasons keeping me here.
He had nightmares. He hadn't had the nightmares in a long time. These were deep, vivid, and painful. But not familiar. He could feel Melody, how lost and afraid she felt. He could see her changing, her body writhing like a man in the midst of turning into a monster. And when he could see her face, he saw her change from the girl he knew into a fierce predator. Her eyes glowed like blue-white stars, and her hair turned intense yellow-gold, and her body turned hard and muscular, and she took the sword he had given to her and tried to slice his head clean off-- the one injury from which he doubted even he could heal.
He awoke, realizing that he was in his own bed. He wanted to believe, for a moment, that it had all been a dream. But as he rolled over and felt how bad the damage was, felt how his body had still not fully recovered, just given him enough strength to wake up and see how horrible things really were.
How nice of it to do that, he thought bitterly.
"Thank the Goddess," Ororo's voice came across his ears like the gentlest whisper of a breeze. He felt the soothing coolness of her hands on his shoulders as she made him lie back again. "We were afraid...but Jean was sure that you would be fine, so we put you in your own bed. Logan, you are back home. Do not panic."
"Not...panickin'...darlin'..." he managed. "Mel...Melo..."
"She is not here," Ororo said, her voice sad. "We were hoping you could tell us what had happened."
Logan looked up at her. "Scott wants ta...know...'bout his bike...right?"
Ororo smiled. "Well, I am glad to see that your sense of humor was not damaged."
Suddenly everyone was there--Jean, looking him over, and Scott, waiting silent and fuming in a corner, but whether from anger about his precious bike or anger that Melody was gone, or anger at Logan for even being a part of yet another huge mess, Logan didn't know. Xavier rolled in, dressed in his robe, just like the night that Rogue had drained him in an attempt to save her life from his claws. Logan did a mental check and realized it felt very, very late a night. Finally, Rogue came in, dressed in that same nightgown she had worn a year ago when he'd nearly killed her.
The night was just full of lovely memories.
"Well, the gang's all here," Logan managed weakly, chuckling before he wound up coughing a bit too much. Man, he must have gotten hit hard.
"Logan, don't try and talk," Jean said. "You're lucky your skull is as hard as it is, for once. We found you with half the back of your head hanging by a thread, but your skull was undamaged and you were able to recover."
"Healin' factor was a gift from God himself," Logan muttered.
"Either that, or God just doesn't want you too close," Scott said. "Can't say I'd blame him."
"Ah, One-eye...always cheerful. I missed yer yapping. Not."
"I told you not to talk," Jean scolded. "Scott, hush. Professor?"
"Yes, Jean," Xavier said, coming forward. There was a smile of relief on his face. At least Logan had enough left to antagonize Scott. The day he lost that, Xavier was going to start worrying. "Logan, please try to relax. I'm going to attempt to access your memories so that we know what happened to you."
"To me..." Logan wheezed, and then continued, "Gotta find Melody."
"Yes, Logan, we're working on that. We already know that you encountered some of the Brotherhood in Dr. Andrew Logan's house, and that Dr. Logan himself is missing. What we don't know is where they've taken either one of them."
"I was out before they left, I didn't see a thing," Logan said, "so you're gonna be searching an empty skull. Shut up, Summers," he added, before Scott could open his mouth.
"Yes, but your connection to Melody will probably give us a good lead as to where to start the search."
"Did you try Cerebro yet?" Logan asked.
There was an uneasy silence. "Cerebro seems to be unable to locate her," Xavier explained calmly. "The best I can figure is that somehow Magneto has found a way to shield not just his mind, but his entire headquarters."
Logan let out a low wheeze of breath. "Hell's bells," he muttered, simply because it was the only thing he had the strength to say. "All right, Chuck, anything you think'll work." Logan relaxed as Jean made him lie back. "Whatever gets me to those geeks any faster."
"You what?!" Gambit screeched, glaring at Mystique. She regarded him coolly, unflinchingly underneath Magneto's watchful eye.
"I did what I had to do," Mystique said, evenly. Like a purring cat.
Gambit clenched his teeth so hard they ached. "And if he's dead?"
"We don't know if it worked," Magneto said, his voice as calm as Mystique's. It was obvious that he was going to side with her. "So we won't be lying to her if we say he's fine. He very well could be. He is a rather stubborn creature." The silver-haired man stood, considered his new recruit in the brotherhood. "Gambit," he said, his voice rumbling a bit, "I am forced to wonder, in all your concern for the life of a traitor to our cause, where your real loyalties lie."
Gambit's eyes almost glowed. "Magneto, sir," he said, his teeth lightly clenched, "how can he be a traitor when he was never a believer in your vision to begin with? Perhaps we are no better dan de humans--wishing to exterminate dose who do not side with us?"
Magneto almost smiled, but it was a dangerous, unhumored smile. "Be careful where you step, Gambit," the old man said. "You may begin sinking and I won't be able to pull you back up. Now," he added, his pose ending the conversation, "if you will excuse me, I wish to see to it that our new guest is comfortable."
Inside his lair, there were many places he knew only he could reach. It made this place as much a part of him as an arm or a leg. He had kept the Senator in such a room when he had first brought him here, but this young lady, who he knew only as Melody, although she was worthy of a better, more powerful name than that, was not like the Senator. He had wished to use the Senator as an example. Melody, he wished to make an ally.
She had no concept, no scope of her abilities. He'd been watching her rather closely since his encounter with her. She had the abilities to channel emotions, make people feel things that might be implanted or just exaggerated into their psyche. Sometimes she could make them hallucinate those things that drew the most emotion from them. She was not a telepath, not strictly, but she was psychic to a very distinct point. Sometimes she could see the thoughts that made others feel incredibly strong emotions, but she could not read minds. She did not need to read them. She could feel them. But that was only the beginning. With training, he knew she was capable of much, much more. Until then, she was just the most insightful person on the planet, and able to see through him no matter what kind of metal shields he currently attempted to create.
So therefore, his helmet against her was quite useless. He was working on a way to improve it--or rather, having it worked upon, he thought with a wicked grin. But until then, he had to be as honest and open with her as he could. Otherwise, all of this was going to be for nothing. And he did not like having his time wasted, not in the least.
The metal plates clanged loudly together underneath his steps, a trick he had done a hundred, maybe a thousand times, but one that would probably be a good display of his power to her. She had to know who she was dealing with. She was getting too caught up in thinking of people in terms of their emotions, and his fear of the future in the hands of bigoted humans-- those like the Nazi's, who wished to destroy those who were different--was coming through too clearly. Maybe he had to get her to share that. Maybe he had to find her weakness, scramble her concentration, make it hard for her to focus on him.
As he entered her cell, he could see that such a feat would not be easy. She was sitting on the bunk the had prepared for her, her legs folded up under her, and he got the sense that she had been meditating. At any rate, she was not surprised to see him. She seemed to be waiting for it.
"I do hope you are comfortable," he said, giving her his best fatherly smile. It was not so hard. Being around her had a strange effect on him, perhaps another one of her abilities. She had the uncanny knack of making people like her and feel comfortable around her, and she didn't even have to say a single word. "We went through some trouble preparing this place for you."
"As prison cells go, it's a palace," she said, her tone dry. She'd been around that Wolverine too long. She was sounding more like him every second. "But you know what they say...there's no place like home."
His smile did not waver. "You are home, my dear. You are where you belong--with those who are your equals."
She laughed--loud and sharp. "Oh, all right...I guess that's why they felt they needed to gang up on me. Your little friend with the stick played real fair, Magneto, hitting me when I wasn't looking and all."
"Ah, yes," Magneto said, feeling amused. "Poor Gambit--he did feel awful about that. The man has such pride, especially when it comes to his abilities with women." Magneto rolled his eyes. "What a useless thing."
She leaned back just a bit. "I suppose Mystique is hardly any work at all."
His astonishment came to the surface just a bit too quickly for him to contain the physical reaction--a very slight jump. "You are quite gifted," he said, the smile returning, warm and genuine. "No secrets to be kept around you, I'm sure."
She shrugged. "Gift, curse, call it what you will. So what good is it to you?"
"Straight to the point."
"Always."
He moved over to stand directly across from her. Until then, he had filled the space in front of her bars, seeming large and imposing. But without his helmet, his cape, he knew that he was considerably less threatening, and it was already having its effect on her. She seemed just a bit disarmed as he made his stance relax, as he did everything he knew how to come across to her as someone who cared.
God help him if he didn't.
"For starters, Melody," he said, his tone softening, "I would like for you to call me Erik. That is my name, Erik Magnus Lehnsherr. I know that you have this idea of me...and you're not wrong. I do believe in using force, I do believe in making sacrifices for the greater good, and even if innocents are hurt, they must offer it as being martyrs to the cause."
"How lovely."
"But I am not the monster you all believe. You know that when men go to war, when countries go to war, they are all called upon to do whatever they must to protect their own. You're not old enough to remember the second world war, but even in America, the country asked its own to help fight in any way it could. It imprisoned its own for fear of traitors lurking in the midst. Everyone was a spy, whether they were in their living rooms or in a foreign country. Everyone had to work together. It was the only way to defeat the enemy."
She did not speak, simply listened.
"I know that Charles, your friend, perhaps even your mentor, does not agree with me. He believes in protecting those who can't protect themselves. That is all well and good--but we cannot protect those who seek to destroy us. To do so would be to destroy ourselves! I don't know what anyone told you about the incident last year--"
"The incident where you tried to kill Rogue?" Melody asked, her eyes glittering.
He sighed. "Perhaps that was wrong of me, but as a mutant, it was her responsibility to defend her own kind."
"Whether she wanted to or not."
"She was not capable of understanding," Erik said, his voice soft, grandfatherly. "None of your friends are capable of understanding. But you are. You know the prices you have to pay in order to protect those you love--don't you?"
Those words hurt. He saw it in her eyes. He pressed onward.
"You can understand my fears for my people. You feared for you family, for your loved ones. Isn't that why you have separated yourself from them, all these years? Because those who wish to hurt you would use them to trap you? And your friend, Logan...you were afraid for him, as well. After what they did to him, you were afraid they would use you to track him down and take him back to that place where they would--"
"Stop," Melody said, her voice low, shaking.
He nodded. "You see my point. That is the sort of thing I am fighting against. And I have to use any means necessary in order to prevent more families from being destroyed, more homes from being shattered, more loved ones from being separated."
"That doesn't justify," but her voice was trembling, near tears, "killing innocents."
He nodded. "Perhaps you are right. That is why I need you."
The tension in the room sharpened. "Me?"
"You are an empath. You have the ability to understand people intimately. In time, you will learn to do things you never thought possible. You have the ability to control what other people feel, but instead you could make them see, as you will, the strength of our cause, the pain being created by this war that humans have declared upon us--upon mutants. You are much, much more than an empath, Melody. You haven't even begun to tap into your power, but I've seen it."
Her eyes narrowed. "Such as?" she challenged.
"Your emotion based abilities are unimaginable," he said, enthusiasm growing in his voice. "I saw what you did to Sabertooth some time back. You can use your powers to heal others, to make yourself stronger. You could even use them to change your appearance for a short period of time, perhaps even...to fly."
He saw the sparkle in her eye. "Fly?"
"Yes." He knelt down beside her, daring to get so close. Even kneeling, he was as tall as she. "Help me, Melody. You can't do these things with Charles teaching you--he wants to limit you because he's afraid of what you might do with your power. He doesn't trust you. He doesn't trust any mutant to come to the full height of their abilities because then they might realize their superior place on this earth."
The wrong words. He knew them the second they'd come out of his mouth. He'd gotten too comfortable, let himself get too much into his speech. He wasn't dealing with a corrupt young woman here. He was dealing with someone he had to win to the side of the angels, make her see the light. And attacking Charles, whom she obviously trusted very much, was not a good way to do it.
"No, I don't believe that," she said, standing up.
"Don't you?" he asked, rising. "Look at me, Melody...see if I speak the truth."
She did look at him. He felt her scanning his emotions, saw her face fill with doubt as she realized that he believed in what he was saying, completely. Still, she searched for a reason to turn him away.
"You want me to help you," she muttered, "so you can get back at Logan."
He snorted. "Oh, that is a joke," he snarled, stepping away from her, letting her feel his outrage. "What need do you have of him, anyway? Or for that matter, what need has he of you?"
"What?" she snapped, but the words hurt again. Even deeper than before. Now he was drawing blood, and he was not going to let go so easily this time. He had to make her see the futility of her relationship with that beast, that it was beneath one as gifted as she. No one else had ever seen it before, of that he was certain. It was now or never.
"Melody," he said, not changing his tone, keeping it sincere, "I am much more aware of the Wolverine's origins than you might think. He was part of some experiment to create a living weapon, but he would not have been chosen to be so if his regenerative abilities were capable of surviving such a--"
"I've heard all that," Melody snarled. "What's your new twist?"
"My twist?" That was amusing. "Merely the truth no one has dared to tell you before, because they can't bring themselves to tell you something so painful. I am not trying to hurt you, Melody," he added, real feeling in his voice, "however, a real friend will do what he has to."
"Friend," she mocked. "Whatever."
He smiled patiently. "I know this is going to be hard. I don't expect you to be happy about it. But there are things that your friend Dr. Grey has not told you. Logan's healing ability is so incredible that they suspect that he might very well be immortal."
"Yeah, so?"
"So...you, unfortunately, do not have this same ability. So what happens when you build this life with him? How long do you think it will take for him to realize that you are not his match? That one day you will grow old and die, and he will live on, and forget about you? He will think he's trying to save himself the pain by letting you go, but the real truth is--he'll think you're holding him back. Perhaps, one day, he may even begin to resent that you were ever in his life."
From the look on her face, he could tell that she wanted to spit on him. She wanted to throw back into his face all the times that Logan had done everything contrary to that statement, and there were many. So many...but she didn't. Her mouth wouldn't open, cemented shut by some terrible shockwave going through her mind--he had unknowingly pressed a rather sensitive button. Perhaps they had had a fight...it was incredible luck on his part. And Erik Magnus Lehnsherr never dismissed a good case of luck.
"I know that the two of you are very close," he said, compassion in his voice. "You have done more for him than anyone would ever have dared. You have brought him to a level that he would have been incapable of if left on his own. Everything he is, he owes to you. That much is true. And perhaps, now, he even loves you. But have you asked yourself why? How is all that possible?" He paused. "Perhaps you've noticed the particular ability you have with mutants who have animal mutations? Like Sabertooth? Like Toad? They seem to...like you, don't they? Or at least, you have an uncanny ability to control them."
She started shaking her head, slowly, her eyes, her entire face, wide with pure horror. "No..."
He shrugged. "What was Logan like, the very first moment you met him?"
She was thinking. He could almost hear her mind reeling.
"A savage beast, wasn't he? I don't know that much about him, but I can imagine, if civilization has brought him to his current level. Yet you managed to tame him. Even bond with him. That's part of your gift. Unfortunately, the situation was beyond your control, and you were separated from him. And that caused a terrible change in him, didn't it? Made him hard, cold, angry."
She looked down. There was a shadow of despair on her face. She couldn't believe what she was hearing, that it was going into her brain. She was fighting against it, but her own insecurity, whatever incident that had happened between her and Logan the last time they were together, it was all working against her.
"He's not the person you loved all those years ago. Haven't you faced that yet?"
She shook her head, shutting her eyes in one last attempt at defense. Finally, she was able to say, "You're confusing me. First Logan's too good for me, then he's not good enough, then he's all he is because of me, now he's not what he used to be. Wanna make up your mind?"
He did not smile. It would have made him seem like he was mocking her, and he did not want that. Instead, he nodded his head. "I understand how upsetting it is," he said, sighing. "The great and mighty Wolverine is a hero of many faces. He has many things in his own scarred psyche yet to deal with. That's why he clings to you so fiercely. He's afraid that if he loses you, he'll lose himself. It's the bond between you that keeps him steady. In fact, it's the bond between you that keeps him at all."
"Bond?" she muttered. "Dr. Grey said all those with mental talents have a tendency to form bonds with respective partners, those they are intimate with."
"Yes," he nodded, "but Logan isn't exactly the one you bonded with all those years ago, is he? The bond is all he has left of that person he once was. He thinks he wants that back. He thinks it will somehow save him from all his sins of this past life he's spent away from you--you, who are his only savior, the only good he sees in himself. What he feels for you is strong, I do admit that--but it is not love. It is need. It is dependency. Sometimes, they can be terribly confused."
She stepped back, staggering a bit. She felt dizzy. "You're...you're a depraved...maniac!" The last word came out more like a howl. She clenched her fists, glaring up into his face. "You come in here and try to dance around me with your words and confuse me with your manipulations and you think that's going to turn me against Logan? You're...you're crazy!"
He backed away from her, fast enough to get some distance between them quickly but slow enough as to not set her off any more than she already was. "Melody," he said, his voice firm, "think about what I have said. You're going to realize that it's a truth you knew all along. He's using you to redeem himself. It won't work, because you're confusing each other by calling it love, by creating a mental bond that you're abusing with intimacy. Such a strain cannot be maintained indefinitely, it's only a matter of time before Logan hurts you worse than I ever could, or hurts himself beyond even his ability to heal. But what I offer is much more solid, much more lasting. I know what you are, what you can do, and I ask for your help. Perhaps we can save so many others from being forced to endure what you and Logan went through. But sacrifices have to be made. If you truly care for Logan, you will do what you know is right." With that, he left, leaving her to fume, and turn over his words again and again until exhaustion kicked in, and she finally fell asleep.
The Professor grunted. His hands began to shake where they hovered around Logan's temples. Logan himself flinched and turned a gaunt white. He let out a low moan and turned his head.
Jean was the first one who knew things were worse than they looked. Everyone else just thought it was probably hell for the Professor to attempt to navigate that fury of a mind. She reached down and gripped Xavier's wrist, pulling it away, making him look at her.
"I can't--" the man gasped, his hand twisting in hers to clamp onto her wrist. "I can't...reach her. Something is wrong." He looked down at Logan, who was sweating profusely. He pulled himself onto his elbows, looking at Xavier in the closest thing to panic any of them had ever seen.
"You saw that?" he asked, his voice more like an animal growl than the voice of a man.
"I didn't...see anything. I felt her, but when I tried to call to her she couldn't hear me. It was like trying to shout at someone through a soundproof glass wall!"
Jean's eyes widened. Xavier was the most talented telepath in history, and he had failed? What did that mean?
"I saw more," Logan said, lying back, his tone sliding into more normal inflections. "It was like someone had 'er...I dunno, entranced. I could feel all this horrible doubt...like her world was crumblin' and she couldn't stop it."
"For all that poetry, Logan," Scott said, "what does it mean?"
"I means," Xavier said, a bit sharply, "that something is happening to Melody. And if I know Erik, and I do, we have to get to her quickly before she does something she regrets."
She didn't want to believe it. She didn't believe it. Not really. But still, something deep inside of her...it nagged. Like a little mouse with little sharp teeth, it nibbled at her insides, a little piece here, a little piece there, until there was a gaping hole inside of her by morning.
Logan hovered outside of her mind. She kept an arm's length of mental distance between them. She knew he was worried. She considered attempting to tell him where she was, but then discarded that idea when she realized that she had no clue. So it was better not to upset him by showing him the things that Magneto--Erik Magnus Lehnsherr--had planted inside of her.
Or maybe he hadn't planted them, a nasty little voice suggested. Maybe he'd just given them some water. Or better yet, he had pulled back the shade and let the sun reveal what she was too afraid to face.
She believed that Logan loved her. But who was Logan? Logan himself admitted that he was not the same being she had found fifteen years ago. Was she kidding herself? Was she trying to hold onto this dream by holding onto him? Was Logan trying to do the same? Make up for his troubled life by grasping at the one memory of happiness that he had ever had? What if Magneto was right--it was only a matter of time before that wasn't enough for him, and he started to wander? She couldn't bear it if that happened.
She reached down and her fingers slid over the ring at her belly. She put her ring finger through the band, and a terrible thought came to her.
When she was a teenager, she would sometimes get the courage to ask someone out on a date. The first time she had ever done it, she had asked out a very attractive young man, his name was Dennis. She'd asked him to come with her to a dance. She had never had the guts to ask out anyone like him before, and she couldn't believe that he had said yes. But every time she tried to picture it, being with him at the dance, being happy, even those stupid little fantasies that come to young women who believe in magic and fairy tales and romance, she couldn't. And something told her it wasn't going to happen. Three days before the dance he had canceled on her. She never really knew the straight story why.
It was a terrible thought because she was having the same identical feeling right now. She couldn't imagine her wedding to Logan. Sure, she had the dress, they'd made the plans, but she couldn't picture her life with him. She knew it was going to be different, but different was one thing--what they would have was something else entirely. He was a living weapon, a mutant, and a feral mutant at that, with a nearly immortalizing healing factor. And she was...well, she wasn't entirely sure what she was anymore, but she knew she wanted to be a psychologist and use her abilities to help people, like she knew she could.
Try as she could, whenever she attempted to peer into the future, there was nothing there. An empty wall. That feeling of emptiness. Dread.
"No," she whispered, curling her knees up to her chest. She didn't want to face it. Some part of her knew it was wrong. But at the very least, she couldn't live with the fear that she was just Logan's crutch. Something he was clinging to for the lack of anything he wanted more. No, it wasn't love. It was dependency. She had always feared that, and now her fear was alive and growing inside of her head.
Melody shut her eyes and stretched out on the bed. If what she and Logan shared was simply a manifestation of her psychic talent, like Jean and Xavier, then she could remove it. She could test it. Without the bond, there would be nothing holding Logan to her. He would be free to choose his own path, and if he decided to leave her, it wouldn't hurt as much.
Ignoring one last desperate plea from her heart's bottom not to attempt such a foolish endeavor, Melody reached inside of her, and saw it. It was like a sparkling wire made of diamonds and rubies and sapphires, stretching through the farthest corner of her mind, the deepest part of herself.
Mentally, she gripped it. And she pulled.
Logan was almost sleeping, trying to recover what was left of himself. His head hurt a bit, but it was finally starting to fade. They'd all come in to check on him through the night, but now the sun was starting to rise--even without a window, Logan could feel the temperature changing. Their appearances became more widely spaced--maybe they were getting some sleep, too, he thought. And he had enough to occupy him, trying to reach out to Melody as well as he could, although he lacked the ability to focus too intently on their bond. She was the spinner, he merely held his part of the web--more tightly tonight than ever. It was all he had to comfort himself, the knowledge that she was alive and unhurt. If Magneto wanted her on his team, he wasn't going to hurt her for a while yet. It would give him some time.
So why was she pushing him away?
That was when the pain began.
It was a terrible ripping sensation, like it was going through his brain, through his spinal chord, down his back and into the marrow of bones. It made his back arch and his muscles tense and his entire body become rigid in mid-air before it released him, a full minute later, to flop onto the bed, aching and shivering as if he'd been hit by ten bolts of lightning.
He didn't have to be a psychic to know the backwash was going to bring Jean and Xavier running like the calvary. But he didn't care--those were mere thoughts his brain sent to him to keep him from seeing the devastating source of the attack. It was not an enemy that had sought to render him in two.
It was Melody.
It came again, more intensely. This time, Logan felt its target begin to weaken.
Their bond. She was trying to withdraw their bond.
"NO!" he screamed, gripping the sheets under him, as if that would help. He'd never been much for this mind-reading stuff, had simply accepted it as an inevitable part of who Melody was. But in a million lifetimes he would never have imagined this--
A third time, he felt the wave begin to rise, but he fought her. He may not have been telepathic or even mildly empathic, but he knew his own mind and no one was going to take it from him--not even if that part belonged to her. She had no right to take it from him, no right to take herself away without his permission, which he certainly wasn't about to give.
This time, with the resistance, he saw more than before.
He saw her, lying on a bed in a room that looked like a cell, writhing in pain, much like he was doing. Her eyes were screwed shut but they were glowing blue underneath her eyelids. Whatever she was doing to cause this, it was manifesting itself physically on her body.
The picture expanded--Logan felt like he was hovering above her and he'd been pushed back. He saw she was in a cell in a tower that was part of a large fortress, lined with lots and lots of metal.
Magneto's place.
The picture expanded again. His head ached so much it felt like it would have been pain- relieving to lop it off, but he was a stubborn, hairy bastard and she wasn't going to get away with this. Whatever Magneto had done to her, dammit, it wasn't going to drive him off. Magneto may have broken her, but he wasn't going to get the other half as well, and as long as Logan had his part of the bond, Melody wasn't getting out of hers. If one went, they both went, and he wasn't going!
Now he saw it--the fortress. Large and curved and pointed at the same time, in the middle of a large body of water. An ocean...he tried to look around, but there was a storm and the horizon was fuzzy, distant, the lights blinking erratically. He tried to draw the image into his head, before his final effort to stop Melody sent him careening back in again, back into the tower, back into her room, back into her head with a sickening thud as Logan's body jerked once more and he opened his eyes to see his own room around him, and Jean and Ororo and Xavier staring down at him, wide-eyed with shock.
"What did you see?" Xavier asked, his voice hushed, as if too much noise would chase the picture away.
"I think I know where she is," Logan moaned, but it was too much for him. Even the body loses energy when it fights from the will. He shut his eyes and was in darkness again.
Melody felt like there was a giant dagger embedded in the back of her head that she was unable to remove. After a few minutes, the intensity of the pain lessened, but it did not fade. It made her teeth ache and her back muscles scream as she tried to move again, but mercifully, she felt that the worst was over.
At least, for that part.
It was a stupid thing, she realized now, for her to attempt. Logan was too strong willed to let her go. And no matter what Magneto said, he could not change her feelings for Logan. Even if he did break her heart in the end, she would rather he break it than let anyone else have it.
She saw out the small window of her cell that it was morning, and was finally able to see where she was. In some sort of tower, overlooking a high rocky cliff, where waves crashed far below. There was no end to the blue plain of water around her, made into low, choppy waves by the leftovers of last night's storm. It made sense, for Magneto's fortress to be out here, in the middle of literal nowhere. There was probably enough mineral residue in the ocean waves to make it a handy weapon in a pinch. There was even iron in the human bloodstream. It seemed that there was very little the master of magnetism could not use for his benefit.
The sun rose, arching up into newly-cloudless skies, and it was actually a rather beautiful morning. Too bad she was watching it from behind bars.
A little while later, the bars of her room parted and someone stepped through.
"Gambit," she said, pulling away from the bars.
He smiled at her. Dammit if those mysterious, black and red eyes weren't so interesting. And in this place, minus the sunglasses, there were not too many other places to look. "Good mornin', chere. I hope dat dis meal is to your liking."
She looked at the tray. On it was a plate of pancakes and some scrambled eggs. Her stomach growled instantly, but she squelched it. "It is drugged?" she asked lacsidasically, keeping a good distance between her and the Cajun.
"Non, petite, you have my word."
"You said that a bit quickly," she accused, pacing back and forth a bit. Dammit, those pancakes smelled so good...and there was even butter and powdered sugar...
He gave her a roguish grin. "Is that a good t'ing or a bad t'ing?"
She shrugged. It was hard to think, she was so damn hungry. But she didn't come any closer. He had set the tray down on the small table and was now facing her. He sighed.
"I realize dat you don' trus' me," he said, and even though the haze of hunger she could sense that he was still being sincere. "But I wouldn' allow--Magneto wouldn' allow--you to be influenced by unnatural means. It defeats 'is purpose."
"And what is that?" she snapped, looking away from the mouth-watering food.
"To make you see de truth," he replied, stepping away.
She glared at him. "What truth?" she demanded. "I saw the truth, Gambit. Perhaps your master didn't tell you, but I got a good look inside his head. I saw what drives him. He doesn't want peace between humans and mutants. He wants the humans gone. He's no better than the ghosts that haunt him."
Gambit nodded. "Perhaps you are right," he conceded, "but desperate times call for desperate measures, non?" He came closer to her. His red eye flashed. "Have you ever seen a lynch mob, Melody?"
"I took history, I know what they did."
"Do, Melody. What dey do. To mutants. I saw it, once. Magneto showed me. De humans, dey ganged up on this teenage girl, because she had dis power dat dey did not understan'. She could make things appear and reappear from one end of de room to another. She tried to use it to fight back, but dere were more of dem dan of her. Dey killed her, Melody. She had been defenseless when dey found her, in a diner in some rundown town. Dey saw what she could do, and dey did not even ask her name. Dey simply dragged her out into the woods and beat her to death."
Melody was watching him now with wide open eyes. The wave of emotion that came off of Gambit was parylizingly angry. "She was your friend, wasn't she?"
"One of many," he confirmed.
"Then why didn't you help her?" Melody asked. "If you were close--"
"I was not close," Gambit explained. "Magneto showed me de remains. It did not take a detective to figure out what had happened. She still had some of her dinner in her stomach when dey bashed it in and made it rupture. I asked questions, and when de pieces came together I realized what dose mutant-hating humans had done."
"He should have shown you sooner," Melody said, daring a step closer to the food. "When you could have saved her."
He shut his eyes and let out a deep breath. "I know dat," he admitted. "I was so angry at him, but he made me see dat it was not he who had done dis to her. It was dose who hate and fear us. For no reason. She had not done a t'ing to them, and dey killed her. Plain and simple." He looked at Melody, his eyes blazing with intensity. "Do you know what I can do?" he asked.
She rubbed the back of her head. "I can take a guess."
"I have control over energy. I can take an object's potential energy and make it kinetic. I can charge objects and cause dem to explode. My gift has gotten me into real trouble sometimes. I admit, it is a dangerous gift. I spent many, many years as a thief, abusing my gift, using it for my own advantage. But dis girl, dis friend of mine, she never did anything to hurt anyone. Ever. I deserved what she got. I can't sit by and watch it happen again and again."
"Then come join the X-Men," Melody said, suddenly hit by inspiration. "Professor Xavier can help you to--"
Gambit held up a hand. "I don' know your X-Men," he said. "But Magneto has done more for me dan I ever asked for, more dan I deserve. I won't betray him."
Melody grit her teeth. "Won't you? Even if it's for the right cause?"
He smiled at her. "I was a thief for all my life--even now, I still am. What makes you t'ink I have a conscience?"
"If you didn't," Melody said, finally giving in and sitting down at the table, "you wouldn't have cared if your friend died."
He seemed to consider her words. Then he turned to leave. "By de way," he added as the bars folded shut behind him, "I meant what I said. De food is not drugged."
She shrugged. "Doesn't matter now," she said around a mouthful of eggs.
"I know where she is," Logan said, on his feet and pulling on his clothes. Jean looked at him, her eyes green fire.
"Then let someone see, dammit!" she snapped at him, an uncharacteristic burst of temper. "I know it's personal, Logan, but you can't expect us to--"
"I do, and you will." He had on only his sweats and a white T-shirt and he was moving past her out into the hallway. "Get the Professor. Get everyone. We have to go. Now."
Jean watched him stomp away and shook her head. God help them if they didn't get to Melody in time. This Logan was even more impossible to deal with than the one they'd first met. But if he was sure, she would trust him. After all, it was Melody. He wasn't playing games. Not about this.
Scott, however, was not so easy to convince. He believed Logan. But he wasn't going anywhere unless someone other than him was privy to the image that was burned into Logan's brain. After some prodding and a solemn vow to fire up the X-Jet, Logan sat down in the cold metal chair in Jean's little medical lab and let Professor Xavier get a glimpse at the picture of Magneto's fortress.
It took several minutes for Xavier to get his bearings, to realize where he was, how they could get there. Then he went to the three dimensional map and attempted to explain it to Scott.
While all of this was going on, Rogue came into the room.
"Did Ah hear y'all say that you knew where Mel was?" she asked, coming up to Logan.
"Yeah, kid," Logan said, heading over to the hangar where all the uniforms were kept.
"Ah wanna come with ya," she said, her eyes glittering with anxiousness.
"What?" Ororo asked. "Rogue, if this is about Bobby being recently given uniform status- -"
Rogue whirled on her. "It isn't about that!" she snapped. Her voice echoed off the smooth metal walls. "Ah wanna go. Ah know better than anyone what Magneto'll do. Ah been inside his head."
"And you want some payback," Logan said, not looking at her. "Forget it, Rogue. This ain't the time--"
"To hell with you!" Rogue hollered, her fist balling up and barreling into a nearby locker. The hard metal dented underneath her knuckles and the ring carried all the way down the hallway and back. Even Jean winced.
Logan turned and looked at her, stunned. It was the only thing that could have knocked him out of his single-minded trance at that moment. In the back of his mind, he considered himself lucky that she had not thrown that punch at his head.
Jean stepped closer to Rogue, the only one who dared. "What is it, Rogue?"
The girl turned her green eyes to Jean. "Ya have ta let me go," she pleaded. "Please. Ah gotta...Ah gotta see him again. Ah gotta know Ah can do this. Ah been trainin', Ro, ya know Ah have--"
"Yes," Ororo said, nodding. "It is true, Jean. She has proven a considerable control over her absorption abilities."
"And if Magneto's got more croonies," Rogue continued, "ya need numbers. Ah can't let Magneto do ta Mel what he tried ta do ta me. Whether he wants 'er dead or not, it's still the same mindgame. And if Ah can't face him, Ah can't face anyone."
Logan looked from Jean to Storm. It wasn't his team, not really, but he couldn't help but feel that they were all waiting for him to speak. "Y'know, maybe...I think I got a feelin' that we should let 'er go."
"Are you sure?" Ororo asked him, looking him square in the face. "This mission is of great personal importance to you, Logan. Marie will be facing her own demons--are you willing to accept the consequences?"
"Logan," Rogue begged, stepping forward, closer to him, "Mel's my friend. You know no one else around here has been as good a'friends with her as me. If Magneto's gettin' to her, she needs me, too. Please let me help."
Logan considered her thoughtfully, and then sighed. "It ain't my call to make, darlin'. Scott's the one you gotta go through. But if he's willin', I am, too."
Scott was a bit harder of a nut to crack, simply because he was worried about Rogue's inexperience in battle, but soon he gave in and they got Rogue a uniform. "But," Scott warned her, "you listen to me at all times. This is your big test, Rogue. You can't cut it, I'm never letting you come along again."
It was a heavy threat, perhaps one he didn't quite mean. But she faced him squarely and said, "If Ah can't do this, Ah'll never want ta come again."
"Then stick close to me and do as I say," he said. Then he turned to Bobby. "Isn't there any way you can use a uniform?"
Bobby shrugged. When in the full height of his mutant powers, he generated a continuous field of ice, and it had surrounded him like a body cavity, or a uniform all its own. He shrugged, even his face covered with the hard, sparkling stuff.
"What you see is what you get, chief," he said.
Scott sighed. "Sit in the back of the plane, then. I don't want the cold disturbing the instruments."
They came for her a few hours after breakfast, after the sun had begun its climb up the blue dome of the sky in earnest. Gambit came for her, warning her not to make any sudden moves, and the residue of the headache from his earlier blow to her skull was more than enough of a reminder of what would happen if she didn't listen.
She felt like a condemned prisoner being led in a parade to the executioner's block. She was brought into the main room, where Magneto sat at a table of metal. It was lifted off the surface of the rocky chamber the room had been cut from by a platform of metal, and there was a large metal decoration hanging over it, a great sweeping arch from which hung five fine wires. On the table five balls bounced off each other--she couldn't remember the name for the contraption but she'd seen it in novelty stores dozens of times. She'd even had one when she was a kid, a gift from her father....
He looked at her, regarding her with a mixture of coolness and expectancy. "Well?" he asked, his voice whisper soft. There was a strange echo from the rock around them. "Have you decided?"
She sighed. "Erik," she said, coming a bit closer to him, "I'm sorry, but this is all useless. I've heard the stories, I know that terrible things have happened. Maybe you're even right and my relationship with Logan is just a lie. But in the end...I just can't."
"Why?" he asked, still in that same tone.
"Because no matter how hard I try, it just...feels wrong. Professor Xavier has taught us compassion for all, humans and mutants. I know that there are horrible humans in the world, but to descend to their level makes us no better. If I abuse my powers to manipulate their feelings, I make everything they hate and fear about us real. And I can't do that."
"You can't," he said, with a sense of finality.
"No."
"And it makes no difference to you that as a threat to humans, they will strike against us?"
She shook her head. "If God wills that we all be struck down, then so be it. But I stand with the X-Men. They are on the side of the angels." She looked at him, pain in her eyes. "Poor tin-man," she said, softly, her voice carrying. "If you only had a heart, you would see that, too."
"Perhaps," he said slowly, "I have no heart." He snapped his fingers. "Sabertooth."
She heard the growl from behind her. She whirled around, her hair getting into her face and almost blinding her before she knocked it back in time to see him. Coming through the doorway, his stride confident, his claws extended, his face determined and his teeth showing like razor sharp daggers made of white stone.
She did the first thing that came to mind. She panicked. And in that panic, she raised one hand, putting it between them, palm out, fingers stretched wide, as if somehow that might hold the beast back.
"No," she gasped, fear filling her feet and rooting her to the spot.
"Perhaps now would be a good time," Magneto taunted, "to click your heels three times and say, 'There's no place like home.'" Sabertooth descended upon her, rushing at her in a fury of golden fur and snarling teeth. His arm came down, arching over her head, aiming for her throat, preparing to tear it out.
"NO!" Melody screamed, and she pushed.
Sabertooth froze. Not held by physical barriers, but by the fact that she had just pushed all her panic right into his mind. It disoriented him, made him hesitate.
Then she pulled.
And pulled.
And *pulled!*
Sabertooth roared in outrage and threw his head back. Melody's hand began to glow and radiate a strange, bluish energy, increasing in energy as the feline mutant's emotions tidal-waved through his body and into hers. Like a great, sucking mental vortex, she was drawing away all his primal energy, all his rage, all his drive. She pushed deep inside of him, into his core, making him scream as she ripped out what she saw there, hungrily devouring it, unaware of the consequences, only blissfully aware of how it felt.
It felt *good!*
The power coursed through her fingers and into her arms, stretching down her body. With Sabertooth's primal drives came his power. With his power came his strength. Her muscles strained, mysteriously growing under this onslaught of adrenaline that screamed through her every blood vessel, every nerve, every synapse. She felt parts of her clothes rip and tear as if she had suddenly become the Incredible Hulk. But that was not the most visible change on her person.
By far, the most drastic was her hair.
It flew back, as if being pushed by a fierce wind as she emptied Sabertooth of himself and pulled it into herself. As it billowed, it seemed that the deep rich brown and the shades of red began to dull as the blond highlights began to grow. At the roots, the coloring drained away and left only a bright, shining gold in its wake.
How long it lasted, she didn't know. All she knew was that she was standing over Sabertooth, staring down at her hands, which felt so much stronger, so much more powerful. She looked down at herself, saw the change and marveled at it. Her hair curled into her face and she failed to recognize it.
Was this how it felt to be Logan? she wondered. To be this powerful? To have all this beauty and strength?
What the hell did he need *anyone* for!?
The others were gaping at her in a mixture of horror and wonder. Then, from behind her, she felt--heard, with such startling clarity that it almost scared her, if she could have felt afraid of anything at that moment--Magneto come closer.
"Well?" he asked, his voice hardly more than a breath. It felt like a trumpet.
"Well," she said, turning back to him. "I guess there is no place like home."
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