#chimkime48525

[nyxnightshade7656]

Hooked Pt8

This one is a little shorter, sorry! I just didn't want to lose the momentum, I'll try and make the next post longer!

Beeping. What was that incessant beeping? Her eyes opened slowly, only to take in the sight of machines all around her. Oh. That wasn’t good, was it? She looked around a little more, trying to get her bearings. She hadn’t seen this room before, but she could tell that it was still in the mansion. Slowly, the memory of what she had done began to come back to her and her heartrate nearly doubled. The monitor that had been slowly beeping matched the sharp increase. There was a small commotion outside her line of sight, then Hank McCoy came into the room; he wasn’t running but it was an urgency to his movements that she had never really seen before. He paused when he saw that she was awake, “What seems to be the matter, Little One?” He made his way from the floor to the ceiling, where he gracefully maneuvered to hang upside down in front of her heart monitor, “Other than a rapid heart rate, your blood oxygen levels and other vital signs appear to be within normal range.” He flipped down to the floor and began to check her over. She shook her head, eyes widening as one of her hands flew to her mouth, covering it. Hank proved that, not only was he intelligent, he was also insightful, “Ah, yes. You used your Siren Song. It has been a few days since the attack, but other than you and Gambit, no one belonging to the Institute was seriously injured. You took a nasty tumble when you and Gambit were attacked, you will probably be disoriented for a while due to the blow you took to the head. But thankfully, the worst of your problems was merely exhaustion due to the sudden, and frankly overwhelmingly powerful, use of your Siren’s Song.” Her heart rate nearly tripled at the mention of her secondary mutation, making Hank give her a reassuring smile. As reassuring as a mouth full of fangs could be, at any rate, “No one from the Institute, with the exception of Gambit, was close enough to hear the call of the Siren over the battle raging.”

She shot up in the bed, nearly yanking the IV in her hand out with the sudden motion, only for Hank to place a large paw on her delicate shoulder, “Gambit is unharmed. In fact, he should be coming in soon to check on you, if the last two days is any indication of a pattern forming. He has been quite worried about you.” Here, Hank winked at her as if sharing a secret with her. Did everyone know about her crush on the smooth-talking Cajun? She shook her head, only to immediately bring a hand to her temple in pain. Hank gave her a sympathetic look, “You are lucky that your shoulder took the worst of the impact, had your head taken any more blunt force trauma you would more than likely have a concussion. As it is, you will still have quite a bit of disorientation and probably some migraines for the next few days. You’re through the worst of it, however. It’s all up hill from here, Little One.” He told her with another smile. Just then, there was a knock, “Come in, Gambit.”

“An’ ‘ow’d ya know it was Gambit, Mon Ami?” He poked his head around the doorway, a cautious look on his face. That caution instantly morphed into a bright smile when he took in the sight of her sitting up in bed, “Dere’s da La Belle au bois dormant! Good ta see dem pretty eyes, Chère.” Hank shook his head with a smile.

 “I will go inform the rest of the Team that you are awake. You have had quite a few people inquiring about your well-being.” And with that, he left, Gambit politely moving out of Hank’s way to let him leave the room. Once they were alone, Gambit’s smile dropped and he walked over to the side of the bed, where a chair was sitting. She hadn’t noticed it before Gamit grabbed it to sit in it, “Ya ‘ad Gambit worried, Chère. Got ya inside fast, fastest Gambit ever moved, but you was out like a light. Den you wouldn’ wake up.” She bit her lip, the worry and concern flowing off of Remy was so powerful she could nearly see it, “’Ank said you was ‘hausted. Ova’use of ya pow’rs. Wolvie never tol’ us ya ‘ad two pow’rs, Belle.” He paused for a moment and watched her, there was no judgment coming from him. No disgust or anger, no fear, “Ne’er seen not’in like it. You tol’ ‘em to drop dere gun, and ‘e looked like a man’quin on strings. Damn impressive, Belle.” She shook her head. But Gambit reached out and gently took her hands in his.

“Petite, ya single hand’ly saved e’rey’un. Wadn’t Wolvie, wadn’t Scottie, Stormy, or any ‘o da otha’ X-Men. Def’nitely wadn’t ol’ Gambit savin’ da day. Was you.” She winced, looking around for her phone or something to communicate with, “Jus’ you an’ Gambit ‘ere, Petite. A’int gotta hide yer voice no more. ‘Least no’ from Remy. ‘E was dere, Petite. ‘E ‘eard ya voice, Wolvie and ‘Ank called it yer Song. Dey tol’ Remy ‘e shoulda dun ‘xactly what d’oes soldier did, followed ya e’ry word to da ‘T’. But ‘e didn’. Ya mebbe a Siren, but ya Song don’ work on dis ol’ noggin’, Chère. When it jus Remy? Ya safe. Ya can use dat pretty voice a yers. A’int gotta be ‘fraid wit Remy.” The monitor went crazy as his words seemed to echo in her mind. He was still here; he was here and talking to her. Her Siren Song hadn’t affected him. She didn’t know what to make of any of this. No one had even been immune to her Song before. At least, not anyone in possession of fully functional hearing. And yet Remy hadn’t followed her orders.

Remy shook his head and kicked off his boots before he carefully climbed into the bed and cradled her to his chest, “Shh, shh, s’okay Chère, s’okay. Les no’ put ye’self inta ‘notha panic attack, yeah? Scared Remy half ta death out dere. ‘Mon, now, talk ta Remy. Le’ it out.” He pressed the words into the crown of her head. His emotions were making everything simultaneously better and worse. They were soothing: care, affection, understanding, relief, happiness, protectiveness. Not a single negative emotion was directed to her, and it was throwing her off. Because her own self-directed negativity was directly juxtaposed to his lighter emotions, causing something almost like whiplash.

How could she be sure her voice wouldn’t affect him? Had it been a fluke? Had his head injury affected his hearing enough to block her song? Or maybe the injury had rattled his brain enough that it prevented her Song from creating the necessary illusions to make him listen to it in the first place? There were too many possibilities, too many ways this could go wrong if she spoke. Despite all the what ifs, however, the desire to actually talk to Remy, to not have to rely on a phone or a notebook, was tempting. She bit her lip and pressed her forehead into his chest, hiding from him; too bad she couldn’t hide from her own thoughts in the same way. There was a moment of silence, then Remy pressed a kiss to her head, “Remy won’ push ya, Chère. Remy jus’ wan’ ya ‘appy. If no’ talkin keeps ya ‘appy, Remy fine wit dat. But Remy don’t t’ink ya ‘appy li’dis. ‘E seen ya. Seen ya watchin’ otha’s talkin’ ‘bout dere day. Seen da way ya stare at ‘em like a starvin’ man stares at a feast. Bu’ ya tell Remy ‘e wrong, and ‘e’ll leave it ‘lone.”

“I don’t wanna hurt you.” She whispered. But even at a whisper, her voice undulated with the sound of a dozen or more voices all at once. She went still, scared to look up and see the blank face of Gambit fallen victim to her Song. Gambit’s arms tightened around her.

“Dere’s dat pretty voice. Ya no’ hurtin this Brigan’. Now tell Remy wha’ both’rin’ ya, Belle.” She pulled back to look at him, eyes wide. He was still in full control of himself. He hadn’t been affected by her voice. He was still him. How? He smiled in the face of her disbelief. Understanding, he just felt so understanding. Why was he so understanding? She bit her lip and just let his emotions flow over her, soothing her bruised soul.

“I made him turn on his friends. I basically told him to kill all his friends and himself. And this ain’t even the first time…. What kinda monster-“ She bit her lip, but it was a little too late to stop the thought from escaping her. She curled up as best she could in his hold, shame roaring through her. Gambit rubbed her back, letting out a soft hum, some little tune only he seemed to know.

“Ya no monster, Petite. Ya fight tooth ‘n nail ta no’ hurt folks. Fo’ som’un raised by da Wolverine, ya the gent’list lil t’ing Remy know. So ya made ‘em fight each otha. Dey woulda killed all ‘o us wit’out remorse. Ya saved ev’ryone ‘o us ‘ere. By yaself. Dats impressive, Petite. Real impressive. 'Ank said ya been holdin’ da song in fo’ so long it built up ova time. Dats why it was so strong; add ta dat ya panic attack and dats what caused ya to pass out. Well, all’o dat and yer near concussion. We wasn’ spectin’ ya to wake up fer a few more days, honestly.” Remy gave her a smile, tucking some hair out of her face. The air tasted of vanilla, apples and cinnamon, Remy smelled like peppery-spice, leather, citrus. The combined scents and tastes were swirling around her, the comfort it all brought her was immeasurable.

“Never want to hurt folks. I-I know they would have hurt us, but I don’t….” She bit her lip again, only for Remy to shake his head. He used his thump to pull her lip from between her teeth, something he seemed to do often with her.

“Mon amour, ya gotta look at it diff’ren’ly. Ya didn’ take lives. Ya saved ‘em. Ya gotta t’ink ‘bout all da people ya saved. Ya ca’int let da bad ov’r shadow da good. An’ ya did damn good. No trainin’, y’a’int used dat power in years ‘cordin’ ta Wolvie, and da first time ya did, ya saved ev’ry mutant in da school. Dats a lot of people, Petite. Cel’brate da win. Don’ ignore da bad t’ings, but don’ let’em kill ya light, either.”

[nyxnightshade7656]

Hooked Pt7

Things go from good to horrible in 2.2 seconds. Also, in this version of a Siren, her voice triggers illusions only the victim can see. I'm not sure I portrayed that very well here, but there will possibly be more instances in later chapters. Maybe. As always, comments/concerns/constructive criticism is always welcome.

Google translations

C'est une Fille - That a girl Bon travail - Good Job

Things had been quiet around the mansion lately. As quiet as a school full of mutants could be, at any rate. No threats, no life or death missions. Just the occasional trip to try and recruit a new mutant to the school to teach them how to control their powers and live in peace with humans. Honestly, it set her teeth on edge. It was too quiet, to the point that she was nearly jumping at her own shadow. In her experience, which was admittedly nothing like the X-Men had lived through, things being quiet for too long meant something big was coming. She hoped she was wrong, and it was just all her years of having to be hyper vigilant that was making her paranoid, but she didn’t think it was. Her dad had started taking her out into the woods more often in an effort to keep her sane by forcing her mind onto other things; like training and tracking. But so far it hadn’t worked as well as Logan had hoped it would. It didn’t help that he was as on edge as she was, and she could feel it. She gave him an A plus for effort though, he really did care in his own gruff way.

Today was a day where all the X-Men were in the mansion, and the younger generation of mutants were either in the Danger Room training, or they were in class learning the traditional school curriculum. She was left to her own devices, so she was outside, elbow deep in dirt and weeds, trying to exercise her paranoia out through gardening. She had just finished planting some cayenne peppers to later be used in cooking when she heard it. There was an explosion, she shot to her feet, looking around wildly as suddenly there was a cacophony of noise. There were shouts and screams, she thought she also heard crying, but nothing was as loud as the sudden influx of emotions.

 Fear, Anger, Worry, Terror, Panic, Anxiety, Confusion, Disorientation, Distress, Pain, Shock, Stress and vulnerability. They bombarded her mind, driving her right to her knees as she clutched at her head as if she were trying to keep it from splitting apart. It was all too much, too overwhelming, she didn’t even feel like herself anymore, merely a shell or husk as the emotions of the people around her filled her like tea overflowing a glass. Everything around her was fading in an out, all the negative emotions were affecting her ability to think and process, she couldn’t even remember her own name at the moment. Suddenly, there was more noise coming from closer to her, but she couldn’t move, couldn’t think. It was like she was having an out of body experience, part of her aware of the danger but her mind could not seem to communicate with her body.

“Git ‘way from ‘er! How’s ‘bout ya pick on som’un yer own size, yeah?” The sound of Gambit’s voice helped ground her some, but she still was struggling to just open her eyes. There was the sound of a scuffle, but it seemed so far away, like she was hearing everything through several walls and a tunnel. Then, there was silence. The emotions were still build, swirling and swelling like a storm, but the ones closest to her were trying to be calm. But she could feel the fierce protectiveness warring with the forced feeling of calm, like they were trying to comfort her, “Chère, parle moi. Talk ta Remy, ‘mon.” Hands. There were hands on what she thought were supposed to be her shoulders. She whimpered before she could stop the sound, breath catching in her throat as fear and worry overwhelmed her even more, “Non, Chère, it Remy. Jus’ Remy. S’okay, yer okay, ‘mon.” Why was he saying that? Why was he talking to her like he was worried she was going to fall apart? “Chère, Remy need ya ta show me som’thin’. Need ta know ya in dere.” Oh. That’s why. She was shaking, and hadn’t even so much as looked at him yet. Finally, after what felt like hours of fighting through an undercurrent to try and find the surface, she managed to open her eyes. She was instantly greeted with Remy’s red-on-black eyes filled with worry. His expression quickly melted into one of relief, “Dere ya are, Chère. Remy glad ta see ya jolis yeux.” He whispered softly.

She bit her lip, she looked around and spotted a man laying on the ground, but Gambit quickly moved back into her line of sight, “Non, Chère. Don’ lookadat. Look at Remy, yeah? Much prettier sight.” His words were playful, but his tone and emotions were both full of a powerful protectiveness. Her eyes instantly met his, and he gave her a smile, “Dat’a girl. Les git you inside where I’s safe, huh Petite?” His voice was steady, his face was relaxed, there was nothing to physically indicate that he was anything other than calm and collected. But she was an Empath, and he couldn’t hide his emotions behind a flawless poker face. He was worried, boarder line panicked. She could not, for the life of her, figure out what would make the unshakable Gambit be so worried. Before she could do so much as blink, he had his hand on her elbow and was hauling her up like she weighed nothing. When she stumbled over a couple steps, Gambit didn’t even hesitate. In one fluid motion he went from taking a step to swooping down and sweeping her up into a bridal carry, “I gotcha, Petite. But we gotta get’cha outta here. Ain’t safe.”

She buried her face in his chest, trying to ground herself. The emotions in the air were a chaotic conglomeration that tasted like ash on her tongue. Too many warring and conflicting flavors. She bit her lip hard enough to break skin as she tried, and nearly failed, to keep her powers under control. She was trembling in Gambit’s hold, prompting him to hold her tighter as he picked up the pace, nearly running now as he tried to get them into the mansion. The sound of fighting, flesh hitting flesh and metal hitting metal, as well as the unmistakable sound of Cyclops’ optic blasts filled the air as Gambit rounded a corner, but it was the sound of Storm calling to Gambit that had her lifting her head from his chest, “Gambit, you found her?”

“Oui!” Gambit called back, hand moving from her back to the back of her head, as if he was going to try and make her hide her face again. There was a flash of lightning as Storm focused on giving Gambit cover. But it wasn’t enough, there was a flash, and then something hit the ground at Gambit’s feet, sending them both flying through the air. She skid across the ground like a smooth stone thrown across water, only stopping when her head and shoulder collided with a stone wall. Her vision swam as she clutched at the side of her head, trying to find Gambit, or see what had made them go flying. When her vision finally cleared, she saw that they were farther away from the main fight than she had realized, Storm had been distracted by an arial attack that drew her away from aiding Gambit. She started to crawl towards Gambit, it looked like he had collided with a different wall, but he had what looked like a splash of red from his hairline to his chin. The image was blurry for her, but she knew what that splash of red meant. Head wound.

She just barely made it to his side when she caught movement out of the corner of her eye, she jerked her head around, only to regret it immediately when her vision swam again. She pressed a hand to her head, trying to get the world around her to stop spinning, “Belle? Y’a’ight?” She glanced up at Gambit, his face was blurry to her, but at least he seemed to be awake. She nodded, wincing at the pain it caused her, then turned her head back towards the movement from a moment ago. Only to be faced with someone wielding what looked like a high-powered rifle at close range.

She felt the fear and anxiety hit her harder than she had hit the wall moments ago. Her eyes began to glow a vibrant purple as her power clawed at her, begging to be released. And for the first time since she realized what her power did; she let it have control, “Drop your weapon. Those living here are not your enemy. Your own men, those you invaded with, are your enemies. Turn on them. Turn on them and leave. Not. One. Of. You. Standing.  NOW!” Her voice was not merely one voice. No, her voice was a cacophony of voices, her voice sounded like a legion of voices all at once. She was her own harmony, melody and rhythm. Instantly, at the sound of her voice, the man that had been about to shoot dropped his weapon as his face went blank. She watched as he looked around, as if seeing something not there, that only he could see, and then he turned and matched off, towards the main battle.

Her chest heaved as she fought to catch her breath, eyes wide in horror at what she had just done, yet she felt no remorse for sending that man to his doom. He would have killed her and Gambit if she hadn’t used her Song on him. Then the trembling started. Anxiety, fear and self-directed anger filled the air as she lost all control over her power. She clutched at her head, fighting for air, everything felt too much, her bones were too large for skin that felt stretched too tight. The noise around her faded to a whisper then blared into a screaming siren at random intervals. Her lungs felt like they were both over-inflated and like she couldn’t drag in enough air all at the same time. Her throat felt as if she had swallowed glass, or lava; raw, bruised and shredded. She couldn’t feel her fingers, her feet were so numb she wasn’t even sure if she was touching the ground anymore. Her vision went from blurry, to shadowy, then the edges began to go dark.

“-Re, Ch-“ Was that a voice? It was so hard to tell. Her head felt like it was both underwater and in a vacuum. Nothing was making sense, everything was too much, so much. Yet everything felt disconnected, “Chère! ‘Mon back to Remy, yeah? Wit ‘im now?” Panic. He felt like panic. There was disbelief, confusion, fear. No, was it her own? Was she feeling those things? Who was feeling all of that? “Non, Chère. Non’a’dat. Focus on Remy, hear? Jus’ Remy, can ‘e hold ya, Chère? Ya gotta breathe, ‘kay? Listen to Remy’s voice, can ya do dat for ‘im?” Why was he so worried? What was happening, was someone hurt? Who was making that sound? Was someone crying? Why were they crying? It sounded so far away, “Chère, ya breakin’ Remy’s heart.” Suddenly there was a warmth surrounding her, making her realize how cold she was. Then she heard something. ThuThump ThuThump ThuThump. Subconsciously, her lungs started to try and match the rhythm set by that thumping, “Dats it, Chère. Follow da sound’a Remy’s heartbeat. Time it. C’est une fille. Get some air, let it in, don’ fight it.” Oh. Oh, that crying was her, wasn’t it? That unholy wailing. It was all her. She could feel her fingers now, and she had dug them into her scalp, bruising the skin under her hair, digging her nails in until she had almost broken skin in an effort to prevent her head from splitting open.

Remy gently pried her hands away from her head, but only after carefully untangling her fingers from her hair to try and avoid causing her anymore harm than she had caused herself, “Dats it, bon travail, Chère.” He pressed the words into the crown of her head. His emotions were all she could feel now, other than her own. She wasn’t sure how long he held her, or how long he kept pressing reassurances into her hair. But he remained calm despite how worried she could feel he was. But finally, finally, she managed to take in her first full breath since this all began. Her screams and cries had dwindled down to silent hiccups as her body tried to regulate itself back to something closer to normal.

“Ya with Remy, ‘gain?” He whispered against her temple. She nodded, slowly, “Dat was real impressive, Chère. Knew you was an Empath, but dat wadn’t da skills of an Empath. Dat why ya don’ talk?” His tone was soft and gentle. Sweet and understanding. She felt her stomach drop to her feet at his question. She just nodded. He hummed and lightly trailed his fingers over her shoulder and down her back, “Les’ get ya inside, Chère. Scottie, Wolvie and da othas can clean up da res’ of da mess ‘ere.” He held her closer and stood up, holding her bridal style once more. She buried her face in his chest, clutching him tightly, using his steady heartbeat and soothing emotions to keep herself grounded for the moment. His steps were smooth and easy, a slow even cadence that quickly lulled her to an uneasy sleep.