Part 26- ‘The Long Walk…’
The sun always came out after the rain, Arrington blinked against the brightness of the morning sun, its warm rays hitting the damp patches of pavement, the air punctuated with the smell of smoke and cinder.
He stood across the street from the Three Stars bar, staring up at the gaping hole in the second floor landing where room thirteen had once been. Whiffs of smoke rose from the ruins; the smell of burned flesh, and charred walls clinging to the air was punctuated by the slow sound of dripping water, catching the sunlight, gleaming slightly running down the railings of the metal stairwell before hitting the ground.
The area had been cordoned off as the local police monitored the scene and fire fighters made sure the last of the fire had been damped down. They clumped down the stairs, covered in soot.
Less than an hour ago he had been stood in the middle of a hotel room, plaster dust still clinging to the furniture, shards of glass littering the carpet, deep bullet holes in the wall. He had stood stock still as the clean up had gone on around him, his gaze fixed by the opposite wall, and the blood smeared down the length of the wallpaper, finally ending in a large stain on the dirty carpet.
Arrington had walked slowly up to the wall, his fingers tracing over the wall, a spent bullet casing still trapped in the plasterboards, buried deep, framed by a deep red, Marie’s blood.
Crouching down to the floor, he passed his hand over the stain, his fingers splayed wide; he closed his eyes and thought he could almost taste the copper tang of her on his lips.
Now standing outside the bar he smiled to himself, and watched as his second in command, Lieutenant Bishop strode towards him. His lips curved into a thin smile he stared as the young lieutenant stood over the bodies.
Arrington had half expected Bishop to bolt for the nearest bathroom and spew his guts up as soon as he took in the smell of burnt flesh and death clinging pervasively to the still air, but Bishop seemed completely unmoved. The lieutenant even crouched down to take in a closer look, lifting the sheets slightly, staring at the charred flesh and what remained of a human face for a good few minutes.
Replacing the sheet and covering the body once more Bishop remained crouched until at last his head shifted slightly and his gaze met the general’s. Arrington stared back, and wondered at the momentary flash of feeling that fleeted across the young lieutenant’s face, what was it…? Recrimination…anger…hate?
Pushing himself to his feet slowly, Bishop strode purposefully across the road and the sidewalk where Arrington was stood. Bishop nodded his salute, all the formality they were allowed here out in the open and general public, by all extents this still was an undercover black-ops.
‘Facts and figures…Bishop?’ Arrington’s stared back up at the defunct room, the blackened bricks holding his focus even as he asked for a report from his SIC. Bishop stood slightly to his left, his voice hushed into a deliberate audible whisper, words loud enough only for the General to hear.
Five causalities sir, everything from concussion, a broken nose and fractured ribs, and…’ Bishop faltered, but only slightly, ‘two fatalities.’
Arrington nodded, ‘you’ve assessed the situation in the motel, what’d ya reckon her chances are?’
Bishop spoke low, his eyes boring intently into Arrington’s neck, yes he’d assessed the situation in the motel room, even spoken to the sniper, whatever words he could understand coming out of her mouth, she managing nothing more than a hoarse whisper with her bruised larynx.
He’d stood in the doorway, taken in the shattered window, the bullet holes that had ripped through the walls, and the blood. He’d seen the purely savage pleasure the general had taken in running his hands around that framed mess of red on the wall. The manic calm as he had shut his eyes seemingly savouring the taste of Marie.
And Bishop had read the reports, poured over them, the long journey down from Canada he had assessed every detail, gone over every revolutionary procedure, every bruise, every scratch, every needle mark they’d ever made in that girl. And the poisons, the drugs they’d pushed into her, he knew everything.
The changes her body was going through, the slow poisoning of her system, the girl that was being killed, and the…the monster that we would be reborn in her place. The cages of mutants held in that facility. Yes she had read it all, with the blood pounding away in her ears, cursing now and again, hating their deviousness, their lies, humans…lying, murderous, bastard humans like this General Arrington.
He had read the reports as a human, as Bishop, but he had felt their impact as a mutant, as Mystique.
Now shifting his stance slightly so as he stood behind Arrington, Bishop recited his assessment of the situation, ‘As you know sir the cycle was interrupted and though we may be behind schedule, the good doctors inform that we’re still moving along at a satisfactory pace. And given the testimony of her ‘victims’, we should assume the combat conditioning is remarkably effective, as we both know sir, nothing tells the truth like a seasoned soldier that’s had his ass handed to him.’
Bishop thought he saw Arrington’s head tilt a little and he knew the bastard was smirking.
‘Cell regeneration should be nearing sixty-percent, DNA binding set to begin, white cell count close to double.’ Bishop concluded, ‘I’d say her chances are pretty damn good…sir.’
Arrington remained silent, Bishop stared into his back, and his eyes flashing yellow for the briefest of seconds as Mystique contemplated how easy it would be to end it for this bastard right now. She had to admit, he was one evil fuck, more so than she had encountered before, smarter and more sadistic, a cold smile settled on her lips, now if only he had been batting for the other side. If Arrington had been a mutant, she might actually have gotten to like the sick, sadistic bastard. As it was, she stared at the back of his neck, wondering just how easily she could put the barrel of her concealed 9mm at the back of his head and simply blow him away.
Arrington turned around quickly and faced him, Bishop held his breath, the general’s stature towering over him, before the older man smiled and spoke quickly, ‘There’s something different ‘bout you Bishop…’
Bishop met his gaze unflinching, though his heart beat louder and louder…and louder as he waited for Arrington to continue. The momentary panic eased quickly when Mystique realised Arrington knew nothing, and saw her as she appeared, as Bishop.
Arrington’s lips pursed into a tight smile, ‘What happened with that cousin of yours?’
The lieutenant paused, if this was a test it was a pretty weak one, Arrington wouldn’t catch him out, not like this. His jaw tightened as he stared back at the General, ‘Dead, sir…I stayed on for the funeral.’
Arrington kept staring until he nodded at last, and turned to walk away, he stopped a few feet away, and called back over his shoulder, ‘You left so quickly, without even sayin’ goodbye, I have to say you went and hurt my feelings Bishop.’
Bishop caught the sarcastic, light tone in the general’s voice and realised the reason for his joking mood, the bastard was unbelievably, almost, sorta happy. He shook his head; trust the sick fuck to find something to laugh about in all this, around the smoke still rising from the bodies this bastard would find something worth celebrating.
‘As I said Bishop, there’s something different ‘bout you…but that ain’t necessarily a bad thing, maybe it seems like you’re finally coming round to my way of thinking.’
His hands thrust deep into coat pockets and his face half cast in shadow, he spoke softly, ‘The way you handled yourself back there, not bad, looks like that trip did you some good. What happened, you go away and grow a pair…?’
Mystique barely stopped himself from smirking as the General gestured for him to follow, ‘Yeah, something like that …’
The huge iron gate swung open for them automatically as the bike purred quietly into gear and the gravel driveway shifted underneath the tyres as Logan guided the machine back home.
Home…back at the academy, Marie was sat behind him now, her one good arm wrapped tightly around his waist. The other held in a makeshift sling, and he felt her entire body stiffen behind him, the fingers dig into his chest, the tension racking up inside her like a coiled spring.
And it was because of this place, Xavier’s Academy for the gifted, here, the place where it had all fallen apart for, where rejection, guilt and shame hung about her, weighing heavy, weighing her down, only six months since she’d left, no sort of time at all really, but for her it seemed like a lifetime.
Logan heard her draw in a sharp hiss of breath as he parked the bike in front of the steps, heard the soft rustle of clothes as she slowly slid off the bike. And saw the hard line in her jaw, the set features, the sharp glint in her eyes and her fist balled by her side.Her breathing became erratic, he heard her heart beat faster and he felt the anger rising in her.
She wasn’t happy ‘bout being here, that was for damn sure. But right now there was no choice, she had made the deal with him, just ‘til Doc McCoy looks ya over’ that was what he had promised, ‘after that your choice…’
Your choice, walk away or stick around, either way, Logan knew, either way I’m left with nothing.
He saw her take a deep breath, square her shoulders and take that first step, up the stone steps, she stopped halfway, and Logan only a few yards behind her wondered if she was thinking of the same thing, that night, that same night he had rejected her, the night she had walked away, promising him it was forever.
So many ghosts, so many memories hanging about this damn place, every inch of this building, of this life six moths ago screamed pain to the both of them, but here they were again, circumstances and a fucked up sense of fate kicking them halfway across the country and still ending up back at this place.
Karma, yep she was one helluva bitch, the sort that screwed ya over and had a good laugh ‘bout it the next morning.
The heavy oak doors loomed in front of them, Logan looked back, down the steps to the bike and down the driveway, the distance seemed to stretch on forever into the dark night, fuck, he thought, never realised how damn long this walk is.
He had called ahead, let Storm know they were coming, still it felt strange the four of them stood in the large entrance hall, not knowing for a few minutes what to say or do, none of them having a clue.
Hank and Storm stood to one side, Logan simply lit up a cigar, whilst Marie ran her good hand through her dirty ruffled hair. They couldn’t stop staring at her, the good Doc and Storm, it seemed Marie really had changed that much. And Marie, she went to her happy place, that place where she got pissed off at jus’ ‘bout everyone else, self-defence, Logan recognised it almost instantly, she may have been more grown up that most of them knew, but in some ways she was still only nineteen. And yep, she still knew how to sulk like a teenager. He smiled quietly to himself and she threw him the dirtiest look she had.
Storm recovered almost instantly, moving in to carefully embrace her, Marie put out her arm and stopped her, ‘sorry Storm, ah ain’t so much about the touchy-feely stuff anymore.’
Storm simply nodded and stepped back, and Logan felt bad for her, Ororo knew the mistakes she had made when it came to Marie, she’d owned up to them more than once. And yeah Marie had a right to be pissed, but least the woman was making an effort.
He growled low, ‘Yeah…’ he quipped, fixing Marie with a disapproving stare ‘not unless you got the right sort of change.’
Marie scoffed a quick glance in his direction and she simply shrugged her good shoulder. ‘Nice…’ she replied.
Hank and Storm could only stare back and forth at both Logan and Marie; the tension between them was palpable, raw and thick it hung heavy in the air. It seemed everything revolving them was holding its breath waiting for everything to implode.
Marie moved towards the staircase, they had gained an audience, a few students hung around the landing watching the four of them, she looked quietly and saw Bobby, Kitty hanging onto his arm, her gaze locked onto his and she smiled sweetly. Leaning forward, the top of her bra showing, breasts pushed together, she blew him a kiss.
Both Bobby and Kitty’s eyes widened and Marie couldn’t help but laugh as Kitty dragged him away.
It was Hank’s turn to offer something to the conversation, his deep, cultured tones purred, smart and sophisticated, ‘Marie what happened to your arm?’ She didn’t answer. ‘I’d like to take a look at that if I could,’ Hank continued, ‘do something a little better than that sling you’re wearing.’
Marie simply stared at him, tilting her head to one side it seemed she’d almost forgotten about the bullet hole that had ripped through her less than twenty-four hours ago. Truth was she almost had, it was remarkable but she could feel the wound healing, the blood loss had abated a long while ago.
She could already feel the fibres of tissue knotting together, the muscles regenerating themselves and the bone healing. And it wasn’t just the gunshot wound, other bruises; other cuts were healing just as fast, the scratches on her legs had all but faded.
Logan’s handiwork, the deep cut above her eye was fading as well, although still purple and slightly mottled, it was nowhere near as bad as it had been.
She had kept the arm in the sling more for Logan’s benefit than her own, thing was she knew this had something to do with the others, the ones bouncing around her head even now, telling her being back here wasn’t the best of ideas.
‘Ya know how it is Hank…’ she spoke at last, ‘ya kick some military ass, blow up a hotel room, and end up getting shot…’ Her nonchalant tone surprised him the sing-song tinge to her voice almost childlike.
‘Could I have a look at it, in the infirmary perhaps…?’ Doc McCoy insistence inferred he was more worried about Marie getting shot, than Marie was herself.
She shrugged, ‘Sure why not, knock yourself the hell out, but right now…ah really need a fuckin’ shower.’ She turned back to Ororo, ‘my room still available?’ Marie stared as the older woman seemed to falter, confused about everything, nothing more so than this seeming nineteen year old, almost unrecognisable now, in her dirty torn shirt and scuffed jeans, the hair cut short, and the eyes darker, pools of dark chocolate brown marking her as being so much older than Ororo remembered. Had it really been only six months since Marie had left?
Storm found her voice at last, speaking quietly, apologetically almost, ‘The thing is…Marie…we had a large influx of students after you left, we were running out of rooms and I’m sorry I tried to keep…’
Marie cut her off, her tone bitter, ‘Well what d’ya know, guess some things really don’t change at all huh? This place is just as welcoming as it always was…thanks Storm,’ she leaned against the banister, before smiling again.
‘His room still open…?’ she gestured towards Logan.
All eyes suddenly turned towards Logan, chomping down on his cigar and scratching his stubble, he looked up, first at the wide eyed shock of Ororo and then at the quiet smile Marie wore. He shrugged, sharing a room with Marie? Hell they’d shared a lot more these past few days.
‘Well yes…’Storm nodded, ‘but you can’t…’ she tried vainly to string some sort of sentence together.
Marie laughed slightly, ‘Watch me…ah’ll take the bed, he gets the floor.’ She stomped up the stairs, her voice laced with anger and bitterness ‘whoever said it was gonna be good to be back…?’
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Author's Chapter Notes:
Karma, yep she was one helluva bitch, the sort that screwed ya over and had a good laugh ‘bout it the next morning.
A/N: Been away for a while, sorry for the slow, almost non-existent updates, *coughs nervously*, if anyone's still following the story Marie is back at the Academy, and Bishop/Mystique has caught up with Arrington...happy times(!)
A/N: Been away for a while, sorry for the slow, almost non-existent updates, *coughs nervously*, if anyone's still following the story Marie is back at the Academy, and Bishop/Mystique has caught up with Arrington...happy times(!)