xp_logs | Aurora and Sam, Aurora and Hank, Aurora, Hank and Paul

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Sam comes downstairs to find some crazy unconcious lady on the doorstep. He picks her up and takes her down to the meblab. She babbles in French.

Sam looked around as he passed through the foyer, hearing the doorbell ring. Seeing nobody else, he quickly moved over to the door and opened it. A beautiful black-haired woman, who looked the worse for wear, was there. That wasn't the shocker, though. The hospital gown and torn-up straitjacket were.

Sam blinked for a moment at the sprawled form on the doorstep. Then, training kicked in and he leaned down carefully to check for a pulse and breathing. Finding that the lady was merely unconscious, he decided that, while getting to the Medlab was a priority, it wasn't a 'page the doctors and go crazy' sort of priority. Picking her up, Sam began to slowly walk his way toward the elevator.

It was the whirring of the elevator coming up from the basement floor that finally shook the woman from her sleep. Blinking open wide blue eyes, she stared at the wall for a long moment, seeming to see past it to what was held behind. It was Christmas but he wouldn't let me have my present. Could not. Stole it from me, shook it hard until it broke. It never matters. Ripped the paper off and didn't like what was inside. So he threw it away," she babbled inanely, in a heavy French accent, before finally realizing there was something there. She looked up at Sam and smiled a little. "Bonjour, pretty boy."

Sam was a little more worried after hearing the lady babble on, realizing that that probably explained the straightjacket, at least. "Uh, hi there, ma'am," he replied gallantly, if a little taken aback at her sudden wakefulness. "Ah'm Sam Guthrie." He felt a little silly, introducing himself to the beautiful woman who he was carrying, but his ma had brought him up to be always be polite to a lady no matter what.

She only stared at him with that same wide look as if he were a pane of glass. “So you are,” the woman replied, reaching up to tap his nose. Her sleeve fell down to reveal long scars from many needles and a taped up hand that had obviously been ripped from an IV, but she seemed unconcerned. “Where am I?”

The scars made Sam more determined to see this woman delivered safely to one of the doctors in the Medlab. Finally, the elevator arrived, and he stepped in. Bracing himself against one wall, he hit the button for the basement before smiling down at the woman. "Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters, in Westchester, New York," he replied. "Do you remember how you got here?" he asked curiously.

“No. Oui. No. Non,” she said, almost confused, her eyes darting back and forth as if watching two people having a conversation. Never really coming to a solid conclusion, she instead continued with, “That’s nice,” and once again went limp, her head falling over to rest on his chest.

Sam's forehead wrinkled. "Okay..." he muttered to himself. There definitely seemed to be something wrong with this young woman, something he hoped that Doctor McCoy could help with. As the elevator smoothly came to a halt in the basement and the doors opened, he stepped out and began to walk down the hall toward the Medlab.

...

Aurora is brought down to the medlab, as mentioned. Hank is lucky enough to be the one who gets to deal with her. Did we mention that Rora doesn't like medlabs, Hank looks like her old boyfriend and she can pick up desks?

Alas. He'd been on his way to bed, for a change. Really only popped downstairs to give one of the computers in the server room a gentle, furry kick in the head to make it behave properly... but it was not to be so easy. Thusly, at the present, he has Aurora on the center examination table, where he an do important Doctorly things, like eyeballing her pupils to figure out what sort of odd state the girl's in. Aside from 'unconscious', anyway. Ah, it never ends.... get everything else squared away, and some random, unconscious lady ends up in the foyer.

There was a long pause in the moment that the woman under Hank's examinating gaze's eyes shifted from glassy to a little less so. It was the only real indication that she had slipped back into consciousness, that and a quick, nervous eye dart around the room. A combination of her surroundings and the large, furry man in front of her obviously did not please her as she shrieked and scrabbled back, kicking with her feet.

"Calisse!" she cried out sharply, trying to get as far away from him as possible with wild eyes. "Christ de chien sal get away from me! You did not want me before, you do not get to stick me with any more needles! No more needles!" The woman was clawing at the walls now, as if his gentle form was looming over her. "Paul! Where is my Paul?"

Hank withdrew, as soon as the woman showed signs of consciousness. Of course, that hadn't saved him from the reaction, and as his initial calming gestures fell short of any effect or, likely, notice, resignation set in. Oh, again. Lovely. Somehow, he always seemed to get to deal with the irrational ones. Well, stiff upper lip, chum...

"Calm down, please. Noone has any needles for you. It's safe here. We found you passed out. You... say you're looking for Paul? Would this be Jean-Paul Beaubier, perhaps?" Setting himself up for thrown things, no doubt. At least he's used to that by now. Unfortunately.

Sensing her chance for escape, the woman to be known as Aurora slid off the bed, putting it between herself and the doctor. Her eyes searched the room frantically, short little gasps being pulling through parted lips. "Vas jouer dans le traffique, mensonge trou d'cul. You're the one who took Paul away. You took Paul away from me!" she screamed, bright sparks of light coming off her. "You couldn't bear it and you put me away. Have you had him yet? Have you?!"

At this, Aurora picked the chair up from behind her and threw it towards him, the buckles of her jacket tangling and clinking noisily on the tiled floor. "One just wasn't good enough. Not when you got stuck with me. I'm not crazy, Walter. I'm not crazy!"

More than just a touch confused, Hank opened his mouth to try for questions again, when the chair came off the floor, dropping to cover behind the sturdy table with a highly undignified squeak as it sailed overhead to hit the floor with a not-inconsiderable din. Hooboy. He's had a lot of things thrown at him during his time in medlab, but chairs are something he generally considers a new one. Deciding that a sparking, chair-throwing, shrieking woman isn't conducive to quiet life in the rest of the mansion, he made a break for the door while she was busy talking, slamming a great fuzzy fist against the big red emergency lockdown button that seems to get so much more use than it was ever thought possible. But then, crazy people, folks getting nuked... isolating medlab from the rest of the building was almost a mandatory element of design, in hindsight.

"My name is not Walter!" he protested, rounding from the wall as doors slammed shut. Oh, he'd much rather be on the other side of them... but this was a regrettable portion of the job description. Now... that done, if he could make it to the computer at the desk successfully... it was most definitely time to call in the cavalry.

The doors slamming shut only served to aggravate her further; her shrieking upped at least a decibel, and there were now white splatter marks on the walls from where her bursts of light had hit; as if the sun had only been concentrating on that exact area. "You can't keep me in here! No more tests, no more needles, no more lies," she cried out, diving over the bed with such grace she could be flying and rolling towards the chair. "I will not let you keep me here, Walter. No more, no more, mo nore, om ore..."

Aurora went still a moment, staring at the chair with perfect calm, before picking it up once more and throwing it against the wall with frightening speed. It broke, practically shattered, and she retrieved one of the more pointed pieces, wielding it as a weapon. "Let me out. I need to find Paul, Walter. Let me out! I will forgive you if you'll just let me out!"

Hank backed away, keeping medlab furnishings between himself and the girl, until he could reach the communicator on the desk. He raised it, an ever-so-slightly-worried tone overlaying his voice. "Guys and Dolls of the leather clad persuasion... we have a bit of a situation in the medlab. There's a poor girl here with a decidedly disoriented bent to her voice demanding to see Paul and calling me Walter. A grand entrance by that notable would not go amiss." He paused, eyeing her again as the chair shattered. "Fast would be better than slow." Clicking the link back off, he moved away again to find better possibilities for cover now that help was theoretically on the way.

“Oh no, my love. You will not hide from me again,” Aurora replied, in a dangerously low voice. The desk he had moved behind was picked up in her slight arms and drawn slightly to the side, readying. “Peek-a-boo.” With a resounding whack, she managed to hit Hank dead in the shoulder with her throw, sending him into the wall to slump unconscious, eyes gone glazed.

...

Paul rushes down to find his sister attempting to kill Walter/Hank. Luckily, he's used to this sort of thing. He's cute, she's crazy, he takes her upstairs. Super twins unite!

Paul didn't bother to respond to the message on the team communicator, he just took off out of the suite he shared with Hank as fast as he could safely go indoors. He wasn't afraid for his sister - it couldn't be anyone else - but Hank was in real danger. The people he passed in the hall were little more than blurs at the periphery of his vision. The elevator was too slow. He flew down the stairs and slammed his hand against the plate that would open the door into the lab area. He heard something shatter in the distance.

"Aurora!" He shouted, knowing that her hearing was as good as his and she might pick up his voice, even through the walls. Everything was so slow. The doors hissed open at their leisure and he was pushing between them the moment he could get his shoulder into the opening. He punched the security code into the lab door to override the lockdown. He could see her through the narrow window, just the swirl of her hair and the flicker of her arm coming up, and he could hear her voice thinly. "Aurora!" Oh, God, let it be the right name. Jeanne-Marie would never cause such a scene.

Freezing, much like an animal caught in headlights, Aurora very slowly turned her head to her brother, the wild look softening for a moment as a glimmer of recognition went through her. “Paul?” she asked quietly, her voice tiny and high like a child’s before lowering to rich, alto tones. “Non. No, it’s just another lie. You are just another picture in my head. Go away, away and let me finish. Go away!”

The door whined as Paul threw himself against it to open it faster. "C'est moi..." he reassured her. "Rora." He lasped into French. "It's me, see? Look at me." He held his arms out and stood in front of her, an open target. "Were you looking for me?"

Whimpering, Aurora stepped back, holding up her weapon as if she might just as easily wield it against him as she had Hank. “No! My Paul is lost. He has to be. I called and I called and no one came so he must be unable to find me. Maybe an evil witch cast a spell.” Shrieking, she took another step back, finding herself up against the wall with her hands trembling. “You’re a witch! You’re a witch and you have stolen my Paul’s body.”

"Shhh," Paul said, holding out his hands to her. He glanced over to the floor behind the desk where he could see Hank lying still. Oh, please be faking it, he thought. "Silly girl. Why would a witch steal my body," he teased. "Unless they wanted to be very pretty, of course. I found you now, didn't I? Look. Here I am and here you are. We're together now. It's all better."

“But...” Brows drawing together ever so slightly, Aurora was starting to look very confused, her large eyes welling up with tears. “But I called and I called. And no one answered. You left me all alone.”

"I can't hear you so well now," Paul said gently. "Remember? You didn't want me to hear you, you didn't want to hear me. If I had heard you before, I would have come, you know I would. You told me to go away, and I did. But I'm here now and I'm going to take care of you." He tried to take her hands in his, only now taking in her torn straight-jacket and dirty nightgown and bare legs.

Aurora shook her head fervently. “Non! I would never. I love you, Paul. I love you, I love you, I love you. Walter tried to take that away. That’s why he had to be punished. Just like the people who kept me away from you.” Letting him take her hands, it was suddenly obvious that her shaking was only partly due to her nerves, the rest made up from an unnatural cold.

Her hands were almost blue and the dark substance dried on and under her nails stood out clearly. Paul turned them over to look at the palms, and then he realized that the trailing cuffs of the straight jacket and the front of it and the hem of her nightie were spattered... blood. Old and dry but there was no question what it was.

"Rora, chere," he said gently, rubbing her hands between his to warm them. "Did you kill someone?" His tone was that of a parent asking a child if they were the one to spill the juice. "It's okay if you did, I just need to know so I can clean it up."

“I told you,” Rora answered, toying on anger and lightly stamping her bare foot. She was unwilling to switch back to English just yet; French was their language. They had forbidden her to speak it where she had come from. “They were trying to keep me away from you.”

"That was very bad of them. They didn't understand. No one's going to keep us apart now." Paul slipped back into French to appease her. She was starting to settle, he didn't want to take his chances. "Look at you." He really needed to get her out of here so someone could take care of Hank and this mess. "You need to get out of those awful things. Do you want to come and have a nice bath?"

Aurora nodded simply, coming forward to press close against him, hands making fists in his shirt. “They fed me candy and it made me sick. Only cold water, no pretty soaps or towels or love. Itching and scratching until the skin peels away.”

"Yes, they gave you the wrong pills." Paul pulled her close and stroked her hair. "They don't know you like I do. I know the right ones, yes? I know how to take care of you." He scooped her up in his arms then; she was so light, he wondered if he were this light. Carrying her, he stepped over the wreckage she had caused and headed for the door.

“Do you promise? Promise me this time, my beautiful,” she murmured into his shirt, her clouded memories bringing back memories of flowers and skies. Aurora’s legs dangled over his arms, kicking lightly as one might on a swing. “My better self.”

"Not better," Paul said gently. "Not better. Never." There was someone else there, in the hall, but he didn't dare take his attention from his sister lest she feel it slip. She was so hyperaware when she was like this and it took less than the wind from a butterfly's wings to set her off. "I promise. It's going to be perfect now." He turned his back on the disaster and walked away with her in his arms as though there were nothing else in the world but the two of them.

All French is in italics. There's some actual French in there, but most of it is just very naughty cursing. Don't translate it, just assume it's horrible.