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xp_logsBackdated: 25th October 2014, early in the morning.
Charles Xavier and Jean Grey go into Laurie's mind to bring her back out of catatonia.
It was grey here at the entrance to Laurie's mind, a dark black wall stretching forever in every direction lay before them. It might have given a non-trained telepath a bit of trouble but for Charles Xavier and Jean Grey it was a matter of moments to find a door in the structure.
~Here.~ Charles' voice echoed across the blank expanse of wall, his astral form pausing before a point where the bricks were just the faintest bit different in texture. ~She's buttoned herself up tightly, Jean. This will not be easy.~
Reaching out, Jean gently ran her fingers across the wall, her face an impassive mask that Charles knew was anything but unemotional. She nodded.
~But we'll get her out.~ she said softly.
It was a bittersweet reality that they had become quite experienced with these sorts of situations.
She felt along the expanse of the wall until she discovered the edge. Then, with a tap of her finger, cracks started to form, spreading outward in a clean, rectangular line in the shape of a door. She didn't want to bust through the wall. It'd make Laurie retreat further inward into her mind. If they took things evenly, quietly, then hopefully they would be able to make it through without too much resistance.
Charles led the way into Laurie's mindscape, only to find himself standing at a crossroads. The wind whistled across empty fields, stirring the dust underfoot and causing the wooden road sign to sway and creak slightly. Four directions, each as featureless as the other. ~First hurdle. Which way? ~
Jean was silent for a few moments, glancing around. "She wants safety, security. So she'll go somewhere familiar to hide. With familiarity comes habits," she said, crouching down to examine the road.
"And well-worn paths. She may try to retreat, but it's difficult to wipe out all traces of one's self."
Most of the roads seemed fairly pristine, if one might call a dirt road that, except for one that stood out. One with slight indentations that came with frequent traveling. It disappeared into the distance with seemingly no end in sight. That was the idea.
"There. They're called desire lines."
Charles smiled, despite the worry for Laurie. "Well done, Jean. If you were still my student, you'd receive a gold star." He turned in the direction of the road Jean was indicating, preparing to walk down it.
Cold wind swirled the dust around their feet followed by a flickering image appearing in the distance and moving fast toward them.
Screams sounded, and all around them a voice echoed.
"STOP."
Suddenly, the image solidified in front of them, mere feet away. Laurie, but not as she'd been, this Laurie was older, her skin, eyes and hair a dark lavender.
"YOU GO NO FURTHER."
The voice came at once from the figure in front of them, and all around, pushing them backward toward the wall with the force of its fury.
Startled, Jean reacted instinctively, lifting her arms to shield her face. She had only recently been able to regain her astral armor after her mental walls were torn apart by the Fury so to protect herself from impact that armor, a phoenix made of flames, unconsciously unfurled from her like a bird protecting it's nest at the perceived danger.
The phoenix shrieked back at the older Laurie with an otherworldly cry, it's claws reaching out to slash at her before Jean quickly reeled herself in before that could happen and the raptor dissipated. Drawing in a breath, she lifted her head and stared unflinchingly into the woman's eyes.
"We're here to help Laurie, the real Laurie. You are not her. Let us pass," she said calmly.
"LIAR!"
The word echoed, the sound modulating between despair and psychotic screeching.
The ground under their feet shook, and the air around them tinged scarlet red.
"Enough, child." Charles' voice was gentle, almost sorrowful. "I know you are trying to protect Laurie, but we are here to help. Look into your heart and you will see this is true. We are her friends, Laurie is safe now. Let us pass." He moved forward as he spoke, until he was within arm's reach of the guardian. Slowly, he reached forward and put his hand on the older Laurie's shoulder. "Please."
The figure flickered and her expression was grave as she met Charles's gaze. After a moment the older Laurie nodded imperceptibly and became grainy as a photograph before fading away. Scarlet shadows grew all around them, a pulsing, evil light that brought with it a feeling of horror and barely controlled insanity. The air grew colder, the wind now changing directions and pushing them onwards down the well-travelled path.
"Beware."
The voice faded away much as the figure had, and a train horn sounded from over the horizon, coming closer.
Jean's eyes lowered. It was always hard to see them like this: damaged, body or mind. With the mind it could be a little more difficult, because you were in the eye of the storm. She knew they could weather it, and save Laurie, but it still meant feeling the rain. This was not the Laurie she knew. It broke her heart that she had become this way after all she had endured.
"I'm sorry about the phoenix," she said faintly to Charles. "It won't happen again." It couldn't. Her attention turned back to the train as it came to a stop in front of them, on tracks that had seemed to spring up from the ground
The train cars were not brand new but they weren't a complete wreck either, which was a good sign. Images in the astral plane of one's mind often held symbolism. In this case the train, representative of the method of travel to different places in Laurie's mind, was worn, with bits of paint flecking off, a few dents, and the occasional cracked window, but still relatively intact. The damage was to be expected, but it could be repaired.
"Shall we?" she said, motioning to the doors after they opened.
Charles nodded, stepping up into the train and turning to offer a hand to Jean as she followed. Inside, the train was pristine, the seats unmarked, the lines smooth and modern. A sign that this type of journey wasn't one Laurie had really undertaken before. Charles selected one of a pair of seats facing another pair, and indicated Jean should sit as the train took off with a subtle jerk.
"The phoenix was only supposed to be a temporary replacement for your shielding after your astral battle with the hotel demon," he reflected quietly to Jean. "But the Fury undid the healing, didn't it?"
Jean studied the landscape longer than she should've following Charles' question. "No. She---it was there before that. I started using it before Genosha. It just felt right. Symbolic. It was part of the armor but not the entire thing. After the Fury it became a comfort, its own shield."
The train continued onwards, a lonely whistle the only warning as they passed what looked like stations filled with the shadows of people and things.
It grew increasingly darker as they went until lights flickered on in the cabin and a door opened.
"Tickets, please. Tickets!"
The voice was familiar and Charles nodded. It was a projection of Laurie's mother, Gail, of course. Gail was a defining influence in Laurie's life, and of course she would appear here, guarding her daughter's mind.
"Ms. Collins," he began as she reached them.
"I don't believe you two belong here." Gail's tone and gaze was grave, her accent sounding like herself but also with an overtone of Laurie's voice.
"You're right, we don't. But there are a lot of things that don't belong either," Jean replied casually as she studied the woman, motioning to the world outside. She smiled. "We're here to help fix that, and find Laurie. We'll be leaving as soon as we do. Can you tell us which is the right station?"
"This one."
Gail gestured to the station the train was pulling up with, and motioned for them to follow her to the doors before shooing them outside. She handed Jean a small golden key, the seemed to pulse with light, almost like a heart beating.
"Don't use that till you see the door, you'll know the one I'm talking about when you get there. Be careful, not every guard will be helpful."
"Thank you, for your help," Charles said to the Gail construct as they alighted from the train. As the train pulled away, he turned to Jean. "It seems our presence and our intentions have registered with Laurie. She's starting to help us." Then he glanced over at the station, run down and dilapidated, tendrils of a dark red, slightly glowing fungus creeping over the exposed surfaces. "Of course, there are still obstacles, it would seem."
Jean nodded, clutching the key tightly. Trauma did that. It created wounds, both physically and mentally. She knew better than most, and carried the mental scars to prove it. But those scars were often thicker 'skinned' than they might normally have been. It made her uniquely suited to help. She wanted to take care of the fungus but they had to focus on finding Laurie first. They could help her clear up the problem later. First thing's first.
"This way," she said, eyes flickering along the path. There were no more rails, just the road. The rails had seemed to have been worn away with time, cut off from easy access. That was the idea.
The road stretched onward for what seemed like miles, with shadows all around that appeared to have no owner to cast them. Open fields suddenly started to turn into a tree line and, along a break in the trees, a two story house came into view.
"Looks promising," Jean said with a soft smile.
"To quote Miss Gale, there is indeed no place like home," Charles replied with an answering smile. "It appears Laurie has retreated to the safest place she knows - her childhood home." Along their link, a brief image of him seeking Jean herself out after Parker's attack on the school. "It seems quiet enough, but there might be some kind of final defence, even if Laurie herself trusts us." He put his hand on the gate to open it.
It was as if Charles's words had summoned it, as his hand touched the gate, tendrils of fungus sprang upwards and wrapped themselves around his arm and neck.
Black mist formed on the ground at their feet, shot through with scarlet pulses as the fungus sprang from all around them, and in the distance the sound of an oncoming storm thundered.
Jean did not show alarm this time. She had settled into something not necessarily...comfortable, but, rather, better prepared after the first 'attack.' The first time she had been gun-shy, in more ways than one. This road was so achingly familiar that she almost expected to see a rotting Parker Matthews behind the door. But he wasn't going to be there, and she had stopped being afraid of him anyway. She had handled that situation with the help of Charles and Haller. She would do it with Laurie with Charles by her side.
"It's okay, Laurie," Jean said gently, her gaze flickering toward the sky. "I know you want to stay. Because it feels safe...because you think if you hide that no one can hurt you anymore."
A warm glow permeated Jean from around her and within as she approached Charles. Fire, in and of itself, was neither bad or good. It was simply an element. It could defend, like before,to destroy everything it touched, or bring warmth and comfort on a cold autumn night.
"I am so sorry," Jean shook her head. "I am so sorry this happened to you. But if you stay here, sweetheart, you're still being hurt...it's just yourself doing the hurting by reliving the past over and over again. We can help you. I promise we can. But you need to let us in."
She reached out toward the fungus enveloping Charles's neck, a deep sorrow radiating off of it that had settled in like an unwelcome house guest.
"Please."
A small blonde child flickered into existence at the gate, fungus covering her legs and arms and creeping upwards over her neck. She looked like a young version of Laurie, no more than nine years old but already her face was grave and serious.
"She can't come out, she's too ashamed."
"Laurie has nothing to be ashamed of, child." Despite the fungus that still clung to him, tainted by sorrow and fear and pain, Charles' tone was gentle, soothing. "What happened was beyond her control."
"Wouldn't you be ashamed of murder?"
The child tilted her head, bewildered seemingly that they would be here at all.
"She doesn't really believe you're here. Do you often pretend to be places?"
"Sometimes," Jean said, crouching down to be on eye level with the younger Laurie. "Not right now though. We're really here."
She studied the girl. There had been some insight on what had happened when they spoke to Hope but only the basics.
"It's okay if she's ashamed. I was. And Laurie knows what I've done. But...Hiding isn't the answer. Facing what happened...acknowledging it as a part of you, and trying to take the steps toward moving on and doing better is."
"She doesn't believe that, she thinks she's still there and this is the nightmare. You will need to convince her otherwise."
The little girl sighed as she moved to touch the fungus attached to Charles.
"Please, help us."
The fungus quivered at the girl’s touch, withdrawing from where it was wrapped around Charles’ hand. He smiled, pulling his hand off the gate and resting it on the girl’s head in a gentle caress. “Of course we will help,” he replied. “And Laurie is stronger than she realises. By sending you to us, by asking for help, it shows that despite everything she thinks she should be guilty for, there is a part of her that thinks she is worth helping.” He pulled away from the gate, red tendrils clinging to him but unable to keep him trapped, their power broken. “Can you take us to her?”
"I can, but you'll have to hold my hand."
The younger facsimile of Laurie held out her hands to both Jean and Charles, but her glance into the darkness that had built up behind them was nervous, one might say even frightened.
"I don't like the dark, but she says if you're real, we can trust you. We have to hurry, the nightmares know you're here."
Jean took the girl's hand and Charles the other, and the two made their way inside. The door was hard to open, its frame overtaken by fungus, and had to be pried loose. Inside the house she could see the evidence of what used to be: a typical house, with slightly outdated decor that was nevertheless well cared for and loved. Or at least, it had been. Now the red fungus had snaked its way inside, digging into the walls and the furniture. Everything it touched had started to decay.
The blond woman aimlessly wandering back and forth in the kitchen from cabinet to stove to fridge seemed out of place but Jean was relieved to find her there.
"Laurie?" she said.
When the blonde didn't respond, Charles tried. "Laurie. We are here to help you. Can you hear us?" He reached out and touched Laurie's elbow, hoping the contact would get her to acknowledge their presence.
Laurie startled violently and backed away, her eyes wide and frightened as her gaze shifted from Charles, to Jean and then back again before going dull and resigned again.
"You're not real, you're never real. Go back and tell them that I don't believe in you anymore."
Making no attempt to move, Jean nodded. "I know...I know you want to believe that. I know your mind is telling you to be strong and protect yourself and to fight because it has been through so much that you can barely breathe and you can't take much more. And that's the woman I know, the fighter, and I am so very proud of her because she lived. But this time...We're real. I promise you, we're real," she said, walking over to the nearby television. Gently placing her hand on top of it, the TV flickered on and Jean's memories of Laurie flashed across the screen.
"All that's left is one more thing to fight. And that's this..." she said, motioning around to the fungus that grew around them. "We can help make this go away. But we can't do it without you."
Laurie had watched the TV as Jean spoke, the fragile flicker of hope that Goose has not been able to extinguish burning a little brighter with each memory, memories that Laurie remembered, memories that couldn't be faked, not with the resources of even the Arch Duke.
"I want to believe."
"Then take my hand, Laurie." Charles extended his hand to her, his own memories of Laurie joining Jean's on the television screen. "Let us take you home."
It seemed to take forever, the moment hung, trapped in time as Laurie's eyes travelled from the screen and then back to Charles Xavier's hand.
Eventually, finally, she reached forward and as her fingers slid against the Professor's, the world around them flashed a brilliant white.
Jean opened her eyes, noticing the rhythm of Laurie's heart monitor. It was a steady pace now. She uncurled her fingers from Laurie's hand, then rose from her chair to check her other vitals.
"She seems to have stabilised," Jean said, relief evident in her voice. "The turbulent readings are gone. She's back to regular sleep patterns."
Charles kept his eyes closed a little longer, skimming the surface of Laurie's sleeping mind. When he opened them, he nodded. "She's not hiding anymore," he agreed. "And we can start the real work when she wakes up." He squeezed the sleeping girl's hand, still resting in his. "It will be hard, but Laurie is strong. And stubborn." A faint smile appeared on his face, lifting the worried expression for a moment. "But don't tell her I said that."
Charles Xavier and Jean Grey go into Laurie's mind to bring her back out of catatonia.
It was grey here at the entrance to Laurie's mind, a dark black wall stretching forever in every direction lay before them. It might have given a non-trained telepath a bit of trouble but for Charles Xavier and Jean Grey it was a matter of moments to find a door in the structure.
~Here.~ Charles' voice echoed across the blank expanse of wall, his astral form pausing before a point where the bricks were just the faintest bit different in texture. ~She's buttoned herself up tightly, Jean. This will not be easy.~
Reaching out, Jean gently ran her fingers across the wall, her face an impassive mask that Charles knew was anything but unemotional. She nodded.
~But we'll get her out.~ she said softly.
It was a bittersweet reality that they had become quite experienced with these sorts of situations.
She felt along the expanse of the wall until she discovered the edge. Then, with a tap of her finger, cracks started to form, spreading outward in a clean, rectangular line in the shape of a door. She didn't want to bust through the wall. It'd make Laurie retreat further inward into her mind. If they took things evenly, quietly, then hopefully they would be able to make it through without too much resistance.
Charles led the way into Laurie's mindscape, only to find himself standing at a crossroads. The wind whistled across empty fields, stirring the dust underfoot and causing the wooden road sign to sway and creak slightly. Four directions, each as featureless as the other. ~First hurdle. Which way? ~
Jean was silent for a few moments, glancing around. "She wants safety, security. So she'll go somewhere familiar to hide. With familiarity comes habits," she said, crouching down to examine the road.
"And well-worn paths. She may try to retreat, but it's difficult to wipe out all traces of one's self."
Most of the roads seemed fairly pristine, if one might call a dirt road that, except for one that stood out. One with slight indentations that came with frequent traveling. It disappeared into the distance with seemingly no end in sight. That was the idea.
"There. They're called desire lines."
Charles smiled, despite the worry for Laurie. "Well done, Jean. If you were still my student, you'd receive a gold star." He turned in the direction of the road Jean was indicating, preparing to walk down it.
Cold wind swirled the dust around their feet followed by a flickering image appearing in the distance and moving fast toward them.
Screams sounded, and all around them a voice echoed.
"STOP."
Suddenly, the image solidified in front of them, mere feet away. Laurie, but not as she'd been, this Laurie was older, her skin, eyes and hair a dark lavender.
"YOU GO NO FURTHER."
The voice came at once from the figure in front of them, and all around, pushing them backward toward the wall with the force of its fury.
Startled, Jean reacted instinctively, lifting her arms to shield her face. She had only recently been able to regain her astral armor after her mental walls were torn apart by the Fury so to protect herself from impact that armor, a phoenix made of flames, unconsciously unfurled from her like a bird protecting it's nest at the perceived danger.
The phoenix shrieked back at the older Laurie with an otherworldly cry, it's claws reaching out to slash at her before Jean quickly reeled herself in before that could happen and the raptor dissipated. Drawing in a breath, she lifted her head and stared unflinchingly into the woman's eyes.
"We're here to help Laurie, the real Laurie. You are not her. Let us pass," she said calmly.
"LIAR!"
The word echoed, the sound modulating between despair and psychotic screeching.
The ground under their feet shook, and the air around them tinged scarlet red.
"Enough, child." Charles' voice was gentle, almost sorrowful. "I know you are trying to protect Laurie, but we are here to help. Look into your heart and you will see this is true. We are her friends, Laurie is safe now. Let us pass." He moved forward as he spoke, until he was within arm's reach of the guardian. Slowly, he reached forward and put his hand on the older Laurie's shoulder. "Please."
The figure flickered and her expression was grave as she met Charles's gaze. After a moment the older Laurie nodded imperceptibly and became grainy as a photograph before fading away. Scarlet shadows grew all around them, a pulsing, evil light that brought with it a feeling of horror and barely controlled insanity. The air grew colder, the wind now changing directions and pushing them onwards down the well-travelled path.
"Beware."
The voice faded away much as the figure had, and a train horn sounded from over the horizon, coming closer.
Jean's eyes lowered. It was always hard to see them like this: damaged, body or mind. With the mind it could be a little more difficult, because you were in the eye of the storm. She knew they could weather it, and save Laurie, but it still meant feeling the rain. This was not the Laurie she knew. It broke her heart that she had become this way after all she had endured.
"I'm sorry about the phoenix," she said faintly to Charles. "It won't happen again." It couldn't. Her attention turned back to the train as it came to a stop in front of them, on tracks that had seemed to spring up from the ground
The train cars were not brand new but they weren't a complete wreck either, which was a good sign. Images in the astral plane of one's mind often held symbolism. In this case the train, representative of the method of travel to different places in Laurie's mind, was worn, with bits of paint flecking off, a few dents, and the occasional cracked window, but still relatively intact. The damage was to be expected, but it could be repaired.
"Shall we?" she said, motioning to the doors after they opened.
Charles nodded, stepping up into the train and turning to offer a hand to Jean as she followed. Inside, the train was pristine, the seats unmarked, the lines smooth and modern. A sign that this type of journey wasn't one Laurie had really undertaken before. Charles selected one of a pair of seats facing another pair, and indicated Jean should sit as the train took off with a subtle jerk.
"The phoenix was only supposed to be a temporary replacement for your shielding after your astral battle with the hotel demon," he reflected quietly to Jean. "But the Fury undid the healing, didn't it?"
Jean studied the landscape longer than she should've following Charles' question. "No. She---it was there before that. I started using it before Genosha. It just felt right. Symbolic. It was part of the armor but not the entire thing. After the Fury it became a comfort, its own shield."
The train continued onwards, a lonely whistle the only warning as they passed what looked like stations filled with the shadows of people and things.
It grew increasingly darker as they went until lights flickered on in the cabin and a door opened.
"Tickets, please. Tickets!"
The voice was familiar and Charles nodded. It was a projection of Laurie's mother, Gail, of course. Gail was a defining influence in Laurie's life, and of course she would appear here, guarding her daughter's mind.
"Ms. Collins," he began as she reached them.
"I don't believe you two belong here." Gail's tone and gaze was grave, her accent sounding like herself but also with an overtone of Laurie's voice.
"You're right, we don't. But there are a lot of things that don't belong either," Jean replied casually as she studied the woman, motioning to the world outside. She smiled. "We're here to help fix that, and find Laurie. We'll be leaving as soon as we do. Can you tell us which is the right station?"
"This one."
Gail gestured to the station the train was pulling up with, and motioned for them to follow her to the doors before shooing them outside. She handed Jean a small golden key, the seemed to pulse with light, almost like a heart beating.
"Don't use that till you see the door, you'll know the one I'm talking about when you get there. Be careful, not every guard will be helpful."
"Thank you, for your help," Charles said to the Gail construct as they alighted from the train. As the train pulled away, he turned to Jean. "It seems our presence and our intentions have registered with Laurie. She's starting to help us." Then he glanced over at the station, run down and dilapidated, tendrils of a dark red, slightly glowing fungus creeping over the exposed surfaces. "Of course, there are still obstacles, it would seem."
Jean nodded, clutching the key tightly. Trauma did that. It created wounds, both physically and mentally. She knew better than most, and carried the mental scars to prove it. But those scars were often thicker 'skinned' than they might normally have been. It made her uniquely suited to help. She wanted to take care of the fungus but they had to focus on finding Laurie first. They could help her clear up the problem later. First thing's first.
"This way," she said, eyes flickering along the path. There were no more rails, just the road. The rails had seemed to have been worn away with time, cut off from easy access. That was the idea.
The road stretched onward for what seemed like miles, with shadows all around that appeared to have no owner to cast them. Open fields suddenly started to turn into a tree line and, along a break in the trees, a two story house came into view.
"Looks promising," Jean said with a soft smile.
"To quote Miss Gale, there is indeed no place like home," Charles replied with an answering smile. "It appears Laurie has retreated to the safest place she knows - her childhood home." Along their link, a brief image of him seeking Jean herself out after Parker's attack on the school. "It seems quiet enough, but there might be some kind of final defence, even if Laurie herself trusts us." He put his hand on the gate to open it.
It was as if Charles's words had summoned it, as his hand touched the gate, tendrils of fungus sprang upwards and wrapped themselves around his arm and neck.
Black mist formed on the ground at their feet, shot through with scarlet pulses as the fungus sprang from all around them, and in the distance the sound of an oncoming storm thundered.
Jean did not show alarm this time. She had settled into something not necessarily...comfortable, but, rather, better prepared after the first 'attack.' The first time she had been gun-shy, in more ways than one. This road was so achingly familiar that she almost expected to see a rotting Parker Matthews behind the door. But he wasn't going to be there, and she had stopped being afraid of him anyway. She had handled that situation with the help of Charles and Haller. She would do it with Laurie with Charles by her side.
"It's okay, Laurie," Jean said gently, her gaze flickering toward the sky. "I know you want to stay. Because it feels safe...because you think if you hide that no one can hurt you anymore."
A warm glow permeated Jean from around her and within as she approached Charles. Fire, in and of itself, was neither bad or good. It was simply an element. It could defend, like before,to destroy everything it touched, or bring warmth and comfort on a cold autumn night.
"I am so sorry," Jean shook her head. "I am so sorry this happened to you. But if you stay here, sweetheart, you're still being hurt...it's just yourself doing the hurting by reliving the past over and over again. We can help you. I promise we can. But you need to let us in."
She reached out toward the fungus enveloping Charles's neck, a deep sorrow radiating off of it that had settled in like an unwelcome house guest.
"Please."
A small blonde child flickered into existence at the gate, fungus covering her legs and arms and creeping upwards over her neck. She looked like a young version of Laurie, no more than nine years old but already her face was grave and serious.
"She can't come out, she's too ashamed."
"Laurie has nothing to be ashamed of, child." Despite the fungus that still clung to him, tainted by sorrow and fear and pain, Charles' tone was gentle, soothing. "What happened was beyond her control."
"Wouldn't you be ashamed of murder?"
The child tilted her head, bewildered seemingly that they would be here at all.
"She doesn't really believe you're here. Do you often pretend to be places?"
"Sometimes," Jean said, crouching down to be on eye level with the younger Laurie. "Not right now though. We're really here."
She studied the girl. There had been some insight on what had happened when they spoke to Hope but only the basics.
"It's okay if she's ashamed. I was. And Laurie knows what I've done. But...Hiding isn't the answer. Facing what happened...acknowledging it as a part of you, and trying to take the steps toward moving on and doing better is."
"She doesn't believe that, she thinks she's still there and this is the nightmare. You will need to convince her otherwise."
The little girl sighed as she moved to touch the fungus attached to Charles.
"Please, help us."
The fungus quivered at the girl’s touch, withdrawing from where it was wrapped around Charles’ hand. He smiled, pulling his hand off the gate and resting it on the girl’s head in a gentle caress. “Of course we will help,” he replied. “And Laurie is stronger than she realises. By sending you to us, by asking for help, it shows that despite everything she thinks she should be guilty for, there is a part of her that thinks she is worth helping.” He pulled away from the gate, red tendrils clinging to him but unable to keep him trapped, their power broken. “Can you take us to her?”
"I can, but you'll have to hold my hand."
The younger facsimile of Laurie held out her hands to both Jean and Charles, but her glance into the darkness that had built up behind them was nervous, one might say even frightened.
"I don't like the dark, but she says if you're real, we can trust you. We have to hurry, the nightmares know you're here."
Jean took the girl's hand and Charles the other, and the two made their way inside. The door was hard to open, its frame overtaken by fungus, and had to be pried loose. Inside the house she could see the evidence of what used to be: a typical house, with slightly outdated decor that was nevertheless well cared for and loved. Or at least, it had been. Now the red fungus had snaked its way inside, digging into the walls and the furniture. Everything it touched had started to decay.
The blond woman aimlessly wandering back and forth in the kitchen from cabinet to stove to fridge seemed out of place but Jean was relieved to find her there.
"Laurie?" she said.
When the blonde didn't respond, Charles tried. "Laurie. We are here to help you. Can you hear us?" He reached out and touched Laurie's elbow, hoping the contact would get her to acknowledge their presence.
Laurie startled violently and backed away, her eyes wide and frightened as her gaze shifted from Charles, to Jean and then back again before going dull and resigned again.
"You're not real, you're never real. Go back and tell them that I don't believe in you anymore."
Making no attempt to move, Jean nodded. "I know...I know you want to believe that. I know your mind is telling you to be strong and protect yourself and to fight because it has been through so much that you can barely breathe and you can't take much more. And that's the woman I know, the fighter, and I am so very proud of her because she lived. But this time...We're real. I promise you, we're real," she said, walking over to the nearby television. Gently placing her hand on top of it, the TV flickered on and Jean's memories of Laurie flashed across the screen.
"All that's left is one more thing to fight. And that's this..." she said, motioning around to the fungus that grew around them. "We can help make this go away. But we can't do it without you."
Laurie had watched the TV as Jean spoke, the fragile flicker of hope that Goose has not been able to extinguish burning a little brighter with each memory, memories that Laurie remembered, memories that couldn't be faked, not with the resources of even the Arch Duke.
"I want to believe."
"Then take my hand, Laurie." Charles extended his hand to her, his own memories of Laurie joining Jean's on the television screen. "Let us take you home."
It seemed to take forever, the moment hung, trapped in time as Laurie's eyes travelled from the screen and then back to Charles Xavier's hand.
Eventually, finally, she reached forward and as her fingers slid against the Professor's, the world around them flashed a brilliant white.
Jean opened her eyes, noticing the rhythm of Laurie's heart monitor. It was a steady pace now. She uncurled her fingers from Laurie's hand, then rose from her chair to check her other vitals.
"She seems to have stabilised," Jean said, relief evident in her voice. "The turbulent readings are gone. She's back to regular sleep patterns."
Charles kept his eyes closed a little longer, skimming the surface of Laurie's sleeping mind. When he opened them, he nodded. "She's not hiding anymore," he agreed. "And we can start the real work when she wakes up." He squeezed the sleeping girl's hand, still resting in his. "It will be hard, but Laurie is strong. And stubborn." A faint smile appeared on his face, lifting the worried expression for a moment. "But don't tell her I said that."
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