Dreamweaver: Part Six
Logan awoke to a cool, green-lit dimness and the smell of damp earth. Strange, he thought dazedly. The air felt much warmer than it should. With a groan, he pushed himself to a sitting position and squinted at his surroundings. His eyes widened immediately, despite the pounding headache that blurred his vision. He'd expected to find himself in the ruins of the cabin, but this sure wasn't Alberta.
It didn't even look like Earth. Where the hell am I? Rising to his feet, he walked in a slow circle, staring up in awe at the towering trees with their huge, gnarled trunks that could have contained small skyscrapers. He stood on a small patch of nearly-bare ground, but around him the vegetation at ground-level was dense and somehow crazed. There was something peculiar about this forest. An emptiness, as if it had never known--or was not meant to know--the touch of a human footstep.
"I never figured you for a romantic, Logan," came an amused voice from behind him. "Better watch it, or you'll ruin your reputation."
Whirling around, Logan came face to face with Rachel Summers. Her warm smile lit her green eyes. "It's good to see you again," she said, breaking into a smile. "You haven't aged a day." She laughed at her own joke.
"Rachel," he whispered disbelievingly, feeling the color drain from his face. This is impossible. I've got to be hallucinating this. But all his senses, all his instincts, were telling him that this was Rachel--a Rachel at least ten years older than she'd been when she disappeared into the timestream after Scott and Jean's wedding. Wearing a uniform similar to that of the Askani novitiates who had come back in time, she was incredibly beautiful, as if the years had smoothed and refined the potential that had been barely visible in the thin, scarred teenager she'd been. She'd grown her hair, too; it fell around her shoulder in glowing auburn waves, the softer style heightening her resemblance to Jean. "It can't be," he said, certain that this had to be some kind of illusion. "You can't be--"
"Real?" she asked fondly, coming over and kissing him on the cheek. He flushed and she chuckled, her smile turning wicked. "Obviously I'm not real, Logan. But that doesn't mean that we can't enjoy our reunion." Her tone was oddly suggestive.
She doesn't mean--she couldn't mean-- "Rachel, I--" Her nearness was making him dizzy. What's wrong with me? he thought, disoriented. He took a step backwards, and with a low laugh, she let him go. "What's going on?" he asked desperately, and saw a flicker of amusement in those eyes so much like Jean's. "Where the hell are we? The last thing I remember seeing--"
"Shut up, Logan," Rachel said gravely, and kissed him again, but not on the cheek this time. It was a long, lingering kiss that seemed to last forever. When they finally separated, Logan stared into her eyes uncertainly, trying to deny his body's unthinking response. Rachel was flushed, breathing heavily. "You have no idea how long I've wanted to do that," she said in a husky voice. "Of course, Jean would have flipped--"
"Ray--" His voice cracked as he saw the longing in her eyes. Oh, hell. She does mean it. How did he get himself into these situations?
"Hush," she said, caressing his cheek for a moment before she slid an arm around his shoulders and turned him around. She pointed into the forest. "Look. Much as I'd love to continue this, old friend, we're about to have company."
Logan saw figures struggling through the thick brush, and in moments, they were joined by Bishop, Sinister and--Regina? Logan scowled worriedly. If the girl was here, where was Cable? They'd both been caught up in Sinister's mind-link.
Beside him, Rachel drew herself up to her full height, and Logan stepped away from her, unconsciously reacting to her suddenly formal demeanor.
"Greetings, gentlemen--and little sister," Rachel said, looking intently at Regina. "Welcome to Ebonshire."
"I demand to know what is going on!" Sinister snarled. But as he looked, really looked at Rachel, shock replaced anger on his face. "It's not possible," he breathed.
"For once, I agree with Sinister," Bishop said suspiciously, his eyes glittering. Rachel sighed, as if pained, and shook her head at him.
"Really, Bishop. Now I see why you don't get along with Nathan. Anything is possible. And you're never going to enjoy life if you don't stop being so paranoid. What is, is."
"Enough of this nonsense--" Sinister began to bluster, but Rachel fixed him with a cold glare and he fell silent.
"Don't tempt me, Essex," she warned, her voice glacial. Logan realized that the changes in her went far beyond her appearance. She was self-assured, comfortable with her own power--almost like a fiercer version of Jean. Logan was glad that Sinister had shut up. He considered himself a good judge of character, and this older Rachel was not someone he would want to push too far.
"Ebonshire?" Bishop asked, clearing his throat awkwardly. Rachel accepted his tacit apology with a nod and a smile.
"Ebonshire is a place you would have known about if Nathan wasn't so close-mouthed," she explained. "This is where the remnants of the Askani fled after the destruction of the Cloisters--where Nathan founded the Clan Chosen and began the rebellion against the Canaanites."
"We're in the future?" Bishop exclaimed, looking horrified.
Logan would have been amused if he hadn't been so stunned himself. "That energy wave--it was some kind of temporal flux?"
"It's not real, you buffoon!" Sinister snarled, his eyes gleaming with fear as he watched Rachel warily. "It's a trick!"
"Of course it's not real," she said scornfully, as if talking to a slow-witted child. "Logan and I had already established that, thank you. But reality is in the eye of the beholder, Essex, and you're meant to be here--just as much as Logan and Bishop are."
She didn't mention Regina, Logan realized, wondering what that meant.
For the first time, Rachel seemed to notice how she was dressed. She reached up, examining a lock of her hair as if baffled by its length. She touched her face, breaking into a relieved smile as she found no trace of her Hound scars.
"How odd," she said thoughtfully. "Nate never did like me as the Mother Askani--I honestly don't know why he has such a problem with authority figures--but this is Blaquesmith's memory of me, not his. I'd half-expected to be Regina's age, but I suppose he probably doesn't remember that night, he was so sick--"
"Rachel?" Logan interrupted, feeling lost. She gave him an embarassed grin.
"Sorry. But you have no idea how disconcerting it is when the form of your manifestation is governed by your little brother's subconscious."
"This is ridiculous!" Sinister bellowed. Struggling to regain his self-control, he continued in an icy voice that was just a shade less self-assured than usual. "This is impossible. The psionic amplifiers could not have produced this kind of an effect." He felt silent as Rachel strode towards him. She didn't stop until they were almost nose-to-nose.
"Hard experience has taught me that very little is impossible when the Phoenix-force is involved," she said in a quiet voice full of loathing. Sinister's dead-white skin turned an odd grayish color, and Rachel gave a humorless laugh. "You never realized, did you? The X-Men had the excuse of being deceived, but you, Sinister, you were there when Madelyne awakened. You knew that the Phoenix-force had given life to your lifeless clone." Her voice turned mocking. "Tell me, O master manipulator. Why did you never consider what that mean for her son--your perfect mutant pawn?"
Turning her back on Sinister in a deliberate gesture of dismissal, Rachel strode over to Regina. Something passed between the two gene-twins, a communication too swift and subtle for Logan to catch. In the next moment, Rachel ascended into the air, her body swallowed by light as the Phoenix-effect exploded into existence around her. The light grew almost blinding, and Bishop and Sinister looked away, shielding their eyes.
But Logan stared directly into the bird-shape, seeking vainly for some trace of Rachel there.
#Three doors, three lessons, children,# the Phoenix said in an implacable voice which sound eerily like Jean's. #You've all made mistakes. Now comes the time to learn from them. Learn well. Your lives depend on it.#
The Phoenix rose higher into the air, growing larger as it melded with the sunlight. Logan had never seen anything so beautiful in his life.
#Logan--# It was Rachel, only Rachel, and Logan knew that her words were directed only to him. #Forgive him, Logan. Forgive yourself. A moment will come when he needs your help, and if you can't give it to him freely, he'll die--and the world will die with him. Promise me you'll try, Logan? For me?#
With that, she was gone. Feeling bereft and oddly cheated that her last words to him had been about Cable, he turned to speak to the others--
--and found himself in another part of the forest, in the middle of a battle. Enormous armored vehicles crashed through the ancient trees, spitting ruby fire that incinerated everything it touched. Green-armored soldiers, some of them looking more animal than human, fought men and women dressed in uniforms similar to the one Rachel had worn. They had to be Askani--no, Clan Chosen,Logan realized, putting together Rachel's words and what he remembered of Cable's selective explanation of his origins while they waited aboard Greymalkin before the final battle with Stryfe. Rachel had implied that they were somehow inside Cable's mind. If these were Nathan's memories, they had to be his troops--which would make their opponents the Canaanites. The Clan Chosen were wildly overmatched in both numbers and firepower, but they fought with a determination that Logan had never seen before. They held their ground, despite the odds.
The casualties were terrible, worse than anything Logan had seen in any of the wars he had fought in during his long lifetime. He watched soldiers die in any number of horrible ways--incinerated by laser-fire, blown apart by explosions, crushed under the feet of the armored vehicles--but both sides pressed onwards, up and over the bodies of their dead. It was like watching a great mythical battle, some futuristic Ragnarok, and part of him wanted nothing more than to join in, to fight beside Cable's troops--to see if one man could make the difference in this unequal contest. He was unaware that his claws had come out until Regina ran to his side and placed a reassuring hand on his arm.
"It's all right," she said brightly, misunderstanding his reaction. "Nothing here can touch us. We're only here to watch."
Feeling an uneasy disappointment, Logan nodded and continued to watch the battle. It wasn't as if they were ghosts--the soldiers didn't 'pass through' them. They merely went around, as if unconsciously avoiding the spot where the outsiders stood.
Bishop came over to join Logan and Regina, looking sickened. "This is--" He shook his head, at a loss for words. "I've never seen anything like this. Not even in my time."
Logan nodded. This makes World War II look like a schoolyard brawl.
Regina gave a curiously disconsolate sigh, and the two X-Men looked down at her expectantly. "There's so much of this in his mind," she said softly, her eyes glowing as they had back in the cabin. "So much blood and death. It hurts to touch those memories, they're so sad."
Sinister stalked over and grabbed Regina's arm. She yelped in pain, the glow in her eyes dying. "Enough of this!" he raged. "This is some construct of yours, girl. Release it now!"
Logan growled and shoved Sinister backwards, breaking his hold on the girl. Stumbling, the geneticist raised a hand to blast him, but nothing happened. Logan raised an eyebrow, smiling despite himself.
Looks like Rachel took some precautions. Good for her.
"It's not me!" Regina insisted tearfully. She had fled to Bishop for protection. Logan was surprised to see that he had his arm around the girl, and was glowering at Sinister fiercely. That's quite the change in attitude. "I'm not--"
A great roar went up from the Clan Chosen, and Logan looked up to see a new wave of fighters come through the trees and join the fight against the Canaanites. The numbers were still nowhere near equal, but the arrival of the reinforcements seemed to give strength to the original troops. Logan's attention was drawn to the three youngsters leading the charge.
The one on the right, a tall black man, seemed to be in his late twenties or early thirties. He swung what looked like a mace down on Canaanite heads, howling at the top of his lungs. On the left was a slim young woman in her early twenties, with red-brown hair and green eyes, who threw herself at the enemy with a ferocity that left even Logan impressed.
And between them, looking about the same age as the girl and shouting encouragment to his troops as he mowed through any Canaanite stupid enough to stand in his way, was a tall, powerfully built young man who bore only the most superficial resemblance to Nate Grey. True, this Cable looked a few years older than Grey, but even beyond the obvious physical difference between a skinny teenager and a soldier in top condition, there was something--else. Something present in the young Cable that was utterly lacking in Nate Grey. A fire, a sense of here-and-now--a total, unswerving commitment to the task at hand. What is, is, he heard Rachel's voice echo in his mind.
But Logan suspected that the intensity would remain, even when the battle was over. He was no sullen and hostile ghost of a lost world, haunting a new reality. These were his people, his home, and as he looked into eyes ablaze with passion, Logan couldn't imagine what could have driven him to leave this time for the distant past of his birth.
As he watched, the battle slowed, soldiers of both sides moving as if through water until they stopped totally. The whole battle-scene was frozen around them like a still-life painting. A short distance away from where the observers stood, a door appeared--a plain, wooden door with a simple metal knob, right out of the twentieth century. The only exception to its utter normalcy was a word written on it in a language Logan didn't recognize. The script was fluid and beautiful, but as alien-looking as Shi'ar. He moved closer, to get a better look, and the word shifted, resolving into English.
Leadership?
Logan looked back over his shoulder. Regina gave him an encouraging look, while Bishop looked torn between curiosity and caution. Sinister was staring at the frozen image of the young Cable, as if fascinated.
Shrugging, Logan opened the door, and walked through into the light.
to be continued...
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