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xp_logsTill the disaster that, one mortal night, Drove her to this.
Marie decides it is only right to break things off with her best friend as soon as possible, not wanting to be dishonest for a moment.
The spell breaks.
Marie flees to Charles, afraid that something has affected her mind and will continue to do so.
( An honourable murderer, if you will... )
As soon as Doug left, Marie subsided into the chair, biting her lip. "Oh, god, Marie," she told herself. "You can't put this off." She didn't even stop to grab a sweatshirt, she just launched herself for the door and ran for the stairs. Ahead of her, Doug disappeared into his room. Marie stopped long enough to smile at the glimpse of him, then turned and headed for the Fencing Hall at a run, ignoring the looks from the other students as she almost flew past.
Logan walked out of the Fencing Hall, waving his hand dismissively at those still inside. He needed a beer and a twinkie. Maybe a hamburger. He wondered briefly if Marie would be interested in going out for dinner, so neither of them had to cook.
She rounded the corner and ran straight into Logan, grabbing at his shirt with both hands to stay upright. When she realized who it was, she looked up, flushed and on the verge of tears. "We need to talk," she said softly. "Now."
"Here?" His brow furrowed at the expression on her face, the tears welling up in her eyes. "You okay?"
Grabbing Logan's hand, Marie pulled him past the last students into the empty Fencing Hall. -Oh, god,- she thought. -I used to love this room.- "I have to say this now," she told him, turning to face him. "I've needed to say it since... since I figured things out. And we've been friends too long for me not to say it as soon as I can." She let go of his hand and stepped back, hugging herself. "This isn't going to work," she said simply. "This... us. I'm sorry. It's all my fault but it's not going to work."
Logan paled and his mouth opened as if to speak, but no sound came out. His lips pressed together and he nodded once, quickly. There was really nothing he could say to that. Nothing except, "Okay. We'll be okay. Just...gimme a few days, a'right?" He tugged on her hair once, then turned and walked away, heading straight for the Danger Room.
"Oh god," Marie said in a very small voice. "I'm so sorry." She pressed her hand to her mouth to stifle a sob. Her heart screamed at her to run after, to comfort him, but she knew he needed time. "...I'm so sorry," she whispered. -I hate myself.- She ran her hands through her hair and then headed upstairs resolutely, the happiness at knowing she'd see Doug again soon warring with the pain of hurting her best friend so badly. -We'll be okay. We will,- she told herself
( Relenting fool, and shallow, changing woman! )
Doug still wasn't back. Marie looked over her shoulder at the door while she started making dinner. Where could he be? She was bad at waiting but there was something delicious about waiting for someone she loved. -I wonder what I should wear...- She started sorting through her closet in her mind, picking out something suitable to wear. -Maybe the pink sweater?- It was angora and she'd bought it on a whim, entranced by its softness and delicacy, but never worn it.
A wave of dizziness hit her and she dropped the knife in her hand. It fell, unnoticed, to the floor as she clutched the counter for support.
She was surfacing and the day seemed to break like thin ice over black water.
-What am I doing?- She was making dinner for Doug and picking out what to wear.
-Doug?- It made no sense. She scrambled for an explanation, feeling like a mad woman pawing through her memories for a reference to her present action.
The day unwound in her head in reverse.
This isn't going to work. She had never seen his face so white before. His back was rigid when he walked away from her. We'll be okay. He'd been so composed and resigned and pained.
"Oh God." Marie stood and put her hand to her mouth, feeling sick. "What have I done?"
-This isn't me. I would never... - She would never give him up that way. Never. -Someone... I wasn't me today... someone did this...- Her hands flew to her temples and the realization that her worst nightmares had come true crashed in on her. If they could make her do that, make her give up the one thing in the world she loved most, what else could they do to her?
Abject terror left her silent and breathless but her feet flew of their own accord, sending her racing toward the only source of safety she could grasp with her frantic mind.
( Thy master is a wise and valiant roman. )
Charles reached for his tea and tapped the keyboard of the sleek little laptop set next to him on an antique cherrywood table. The latest reports from one of his lobbyists in Washington were not encouraging. A right-wing organization with alleged patriot ties had come slamming into the arena as soon as the Red-X plans had made the radar and were bound and determined to undermine funding not just for the project but for the parent group, the Red Cross, as well. Charles had little patience for those who made innocents suffer in order to attain their goals and there would be suffering if Red Cross assistance to the poor of the country were compromised. The idea distressed him deeply.
Suddenly, he set his teacup down with a sharp clink and frowned. There were some students to whom he was especially attuned and Marie was one of them. He'd searched for her more than once and knew her mind well and right now she was coming down the hall to his room, the second time in as many weeks, in enough distress to make her previous visit seem merely social. He pressed a button on the arm of his chair, one he rarely used, that would open the door before she hit it at full velocity. Normally a considerate child, she was beyond rational thought at the moment.
Marie flew in the open door and into the room, dishevelled and hysterical. "You have to do something," she sobbed, skidding to a halt a few feet away from Charles. "Something's in my head." She was dressed in thin, snug exercise clothing and Charles filed away the fact that she'd been training /again/ for later as he reached out with his mind to investigate her. Hysteria was not a common trait for her and he took it seriously when it manifested. "You have to put me somewhere," she continued. "Make sure I don't hurt anyone... anyone else..."
"Marie." He wasn't finding anything that would indicate another mind on hers, nothing but her -- pain, fear, guilt, grief -- and the ghosts in her head. Charles plucked a lap-blanket off of the chair beside him, then beckoned to her with his other hand. "Child, come here."
"I can't!" Marie held out her hands to ward him off. "I can't, I don't know what's happening to me, I don't want to hurt you." She backed up several paces and Charles reached for his phone, keying in Moira's code without looking.
"There's nothing wrong with you," he said firmly, waiting for Moira to answer. "Tell me what happened."
Marie had backed up until she bumped into the wall and she stood there, shaking, arms wrapped around herself. "I don't know," she said. "I'm not thinking right. I... I told Logan I couldn't be with him anymore, and it made sense and then, something snapped and it didn't make sense and I felt like I did yesterday..."
"Moira," Charles said quietly. "I need to see you in my rooms immediately. Please bring some sedatives with you, at least one of the students may need them." At her affirmative response, he shut the phone and gave Marie his full attention, picking clues out of the rush of her words. ...not thinking right...made sense...something snapped...didn't make sense
"I...I don't know what happened," Marie went on. She closed her eyes and let her head fall back against the wall, trying not to crumple or be sick or scream. "I thought this morning that I was in love with Doug which is just... insane... I care about him but I don't love him and... I tried to put it out of my head all day until I could talk to him and then I did and then I decided I needed to be fair and go break it off with Logan and I did and..." She broke down in sobs, burying her face in her hands.
Charles could see that her distress was amplified by the impact of her involuntary actions but at the core was her terror of being used. There was no doubt in his mind at this point that what she was describing was both too focussed and too mundane to simply be the influence of another mind on hers. Briefly he considered Manuel but then discarded the idea. The young Spaniard had been putting great effort into not affecting others unnecessarily and the impact of his interference was not usually so directed or, it would seem, intentional. That left Charles few options, none of which he liked. The conclusion was that this was malice or a prank. Either way, it was unacceptable.
"Marie. There's no mind affecting yours. Trust me, child, you're safe. It /was/ something, but nothing is controlling you right now. Come here." Charles' tone brooked no disobedience. "The sooner you calm down, the sooner I can go about finding Logan and clearing this up."
At the sound of Logan's name, Marie looked up and then crossed the room in a few swift strides to fall to her knees in front of Charles' chair. "He'll never forgive me," she sobbed, burying her face in her arms that were crossed over his knees. Charles draped the blanket over her trembling shoulders and patted her gently on the back. "He won't believe me. I hurt him..."
"I'll speak to him," Charles said simply. If only all his problems could be solved with that method.
Moira arrived, still in her lab coat, looking grim. "What's happened to her?" She opened up a small kit and removed a patch. At Charles' nod, she tore open the wrapping, removed the back, and gingerly smoothed it on to Marie's shoulder when Charles held back the blanket.
"I fear that someone's been playing tricks," he said with some displeasure. "I think this may be more than just an accident." His mind had been wandering the second floor while he comforted Marie and the confusion and distress that he had found there was evidence that Marie was not the only person affected. And then he had found a small, British maelstrom of guilt and fear. "I need you to go speak to Miss Sefton, please. I'd like to know if she is at all aware of recent disturbances."
Moira's expression darkened as she looked from Marie to Charles. "Amanda?" Disbelief warred with the evidence and Moira groaned. "Fine babysitter, me," she said, rubbing at her temples. "I'll go see th' lass an' tell you what I learn, Charles."
"Feel free to distribute sedatives as necessary, Moira," Charles told her. "The clamour is quite impressive."
Moira looked at the kit in her hand and shook her head. "I'll save one f'r me," she said as she turned to go. "I think I'll need it." She closed the door behind her as she went to face the second floor.
Charles turned his attention back to Marie, whose storm of sobs had tapered to small gulps and sniffles, thanks to the sedative. She leaned against him heavily and he stroked her hair. "Now. Logan." He closed his eyes and began his search for the man's mind, not at all looking forward to an argument with the feral he was sure was ascendant at the moment.
Marie decides it is only right to break things off with her best friend as soon as possible, not wanting to be dishonest for a moment.
The spell breaks.
Marie flees to Charles, afraid that something has affected her mind and will continue to do so.
( An honourable murderer, if you will... )
As soon as Doug left, Marie subsided into the chair, biting her lip. "Oh, god, Marie," she told herself. "You can't put this off." She didn't even stop to grab a sweatshirt, she just launched herself for the door and ran for the stairs. Ahead of her, Doug disappeared into his room. Marie stopped long enough to smile at the glimpse of him, then turned and headed for the Fencing Hall at a run, ignoring the looks from the other students as she almost flew past.
Logan walked out of the Fencing Hall, waving his hand dismissively at those still inside. He needed a beer and a twinkie. Maybe a hamburger. He wondered briefly if Marie would be interested in going out for dinner, so neither of them had to cook.
She rounded the corner and ran straight into Logan, grabbing at his shirt with both hands to stay upright. When she realized who it was, she looked up, flushed and on the verge of tears. "We need to talk," she said softly. "Now."
"Here?" His brow furrowed at the expression on her face, the tears welling up in her eyes. "You okay?"
Grabbing Logan's hand, Marie pulled him past the last students into the empty Fencing Hall. -Oh, god,- she thought. -I used to love this room.- "I have to say this now," she told him, turning to face him. "I've needed to say it since... since I figured things out. And we've been friends too long for me not to say it as soon as I can." She let go of his hand and stepped back, hugging herself. "This isn't going to work," she said simply. "This... us. I'm sorry. It's all my fault but it's not going to work."
Logan paled and his mouth opened as if to speak, but no sound came out. His lips pressed together and he nodded once, quickly. There was really nothing he could say to that. Nothing except, "Okay. We'll be okay. Just...gimme a few days, a'right?" He tugged on her hair once, then turned and walked away, heading straight for the Danger Room.
"Oh god," Marie said in a very small voice. "I'm so sorry." She pressed her hand to her mouth to stifle a sob. Her heart screamed at her to run after, to comfort him, but she knew he needed time. "...I'm so sorry," she whispered. -I hate myself.- She ran her hands through her hair and then headed upstairs resolutely, the happiness at knowing she'd see Doug again soon warring with the pain of hurting her best friend so badly. -We'll be okay. We will,- she told herself
( Relenting fool, and shallow, changing woman! )
Doug still wasn't back. Marie looked over her shoulder at the door while she started making dinner. Where could he be? She was bad at waiting but there was something delicious about waiting for someone she loved. -I wonder what I should wear...- She started sorting through her closet in her mind, picking out something suitable to wear. -Maybe the pink sweater?- It was angora and she'd bought it on a whim, entranced by its softness and delicacy, but never worn it.
A wave of dizziness hit her and she dropped the knife in her hand. It fell, unnoticed, to the floor as she clutched the counter for support.
She was surfacing and the day seemed to break like thin ice over black water.
-What am I doing?- She was making dinner for Doug and picking out what to wear.
-Doug?- It made no sense. She scrambled for an explanation, feeling like a mad woman pawing through her memories for a reference to her present action.
The day unwound in her head in reverse.
This isn't going to work. She had never seen his face so white before. His back was rigid when he walked away from her. We'll be okay. He'd been so composed and resigned and pained.
"Oh God." Marie stood and put her hand to her mouth, feeling sick. "What have I done?"
-This isn't me. I would never... - She would never give him up that way. Never. -Someone... I wasn't me today... someone did this...- Her hands flew to her temples and the realization that her worst nightmares had come true crashed in on her. If they could make her do that, make her give up the one thing in the world she loved most, what else could they do to her?
Abject terror left her silent and breathless but her feet flew of their own accord, sending her racing toward the only source of safety she could grasp with her frantic mind.
( Thy master is a wise and valiant roman. )
Charles reached for his tea and tapped the keyboard of the sleek little laptop set next to him on an antique cherrywood table. The latest reports from one of his lobbyists in Washington were not encouraging. A right-wing organization with alleged patriot ties had come slamming into the arena as soon as the Red-X plans had made the radar and were bound and determined to undermine funding not just for the project but for the parent group, the Red Cross, as well. Charles had little patience for those who made innocents suffer in order to attain their goals and there would be suffering if Red Cross assistance to the poor of the country were compromised. The idea distressed him deeply.
Suddenly, he set his teacup down with a sharp clink and frowned. There were some students to whom he was especially attuned and Marie was one of them. He'd searched for her more than once and knew her mind well and right now she was coming down the hall to his room, the second time in as many weeks, in enough distress to make her previous visit seem merely social. He pressed a button on the arm of his chair, one he rarely used, that would open the door before she hit it at full velocity. Normally a considerate child, she was beyond rational thought at the moment.
Marie flew in the open door and into the room, dishevelled and hysterical. "You have to do something," she sobbed, skidding to a halt a few feet away from Charles. "Something's in my head." She was dressed in thin, snug exercise clothing and Charles filed away the fact that she'd been training /again/ for later as he reached out with his mind to investigate her. Hysteria was not a common trait for her and he took it seriously when it manifested. "You have to put me somewhere," she continued. "Make sure I don't hurt anyone... anyone else..."
"Marie." He wasn't finding anything that would indicate another mind on hers, nothing but her -- pain, fear, guilt, grief -- and the ghosts in her head. Charles plucked a lap-blanket off of the chair beside him, then beckoned to her with his other hand. "Child, come here."
"I can't!" Marie held out her hands to ward him off. "I can't, I don't know what's happening to me, I don't want to hurt you." She backed up several paces and Charles reached for his phone, keying in Moira's code without looking.
"There's nothing wrong with you," he said firmly, waiting for Moira to answer. "Tell me what happened."
Marie had backed up until she bumped into the wall and she stood there, shaking, arms wrapped around herself. "I don't know," she said. "I'm not thinking right. I... I told Logan I couldn't be with him anymore, and it made sense and then, something snapped and it didn't make sense and I felt like I did yesterday..."
"Moira," Charles said quietly. "I need to see you in my rooms immediately. Please bring some sedatives with you, at least one of the students may need them." At her affirmative response, he shut the phone and gave Marie his full attention, picking clues out of the rush of her words. ...not thinking right...made sense...something snapped...didn't make sense
"I...I don't know what happened," Marie went on. She closed her eyes and let her head fall back against the wall, trying not to crumple or be sick or scream. "I thought this morning that I was in love with Doug which is just... insane... I care about him but I don't love him and... I tried to put it out of my head all day until I could talk to him and then I did and then I decided I needed to be fair and go break it off with Logan and I did and..." She broke down in sobs, burying her face in her hands.
Charles could see that her distress was amplified by the impact of her involuntary actions but at the core was her terror of being used. There was no doubt in his mind at this point that what she was describing was both too focussed and too mundane to simply be the influence of another mind on hers. Briefly he considered Manuel but then discarded the idea. The young Spaniard had been putting great effort into not affecting others unnecessarily and the impact of his interference was not usually so directed or, it would seem, intentional. That left Charles few options, none of which he liked. The conclusion was that this was malice or a prank. Either way, it was unacceptable.
"Marie. There's no mind affecting yours. Trust me, child, you're safe. It /was/ something, but nothing is controlling you right now. Come here." Charles' tone brooked no disobedience. "The sooner you calm down, the sooner I can go about finding Logan and clearing this up."
At the sound of Logan's name, Marie looked up and then crossed the room in a few swift strides to fall to her knees in front of Charles' chair. "He'll never forgive me," she sobbed, burying her face in her arms that were crossed over his knees. Charles draped the blanket over her trembling shoulders and patted her gently on the back. "He won't believe me. I hurt him..."
"I'll speak to him," Charles said simply. If only all his problems could be solved with that method.
Moira arrived, still in her lab coat, looking grim. "What's happened to her?" She opened up a small kit and removed a patch. At Charles' nod, she tore open the wrapping, removed the back, and gingerly smoothed it on to Marie's shoulder when Charles held back the blanket.
"I fear that someone's been playing tricks," he said with some displeasure. "I think this may be more than just an accident." His mind had been wandering the second floor while he comforted Marie and the confusion and distress that he had found there was evidence that Marie was not the only person affected. And then he had found a small, British maelstrom of guilt and fear. "I need you to go speak to Miss Sefton, please. I'd like to know if she is at all aware of recent disturbances."
Moira's expression darkened as she looked from Marie to Charles. "Amanda?" Disbelief warred with the evidence and Moira groaned. "Fine babysitter, me," she said, rubbing at her temples. "I'll go see th' lass an' tell you what I learn, Charles."
"Feel free to distribute sedatives as necessary, Moira," Charles told her. "The clamour is quite impressive."
Moira looked at the kit in her hand and shook her head. "I'll save one f'r me," she said as she turned to go. "I think I'll need it." She closed the door behind her as she went to face the second floor.
Charles turned his attention back to Marie, whose storm of sobs had tapered to small gulps and sniffles, thanks to the sedative. She leaned against him heavily and he stroked her hair. "Now. Logan." He closed his eyes and began his search for the man's mind, not at all looking forward to an argument with the feral he was sure was ascendant at the moment.
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