Summary: When the line between fantasy and reality starts to blur, how can
you tell where dreams end and memory begins?
Thanks to: Charon MMM, who did a wonderful job beta'ing
Disclaimer: Not mine. Enough said.
Archive: Go ahead and take it, though I wouldn't mind if you dropped me a
note to let me know where.
Note: Though this is in four parts, due to the stupidity of my email addy,
it's meant to be read as one thing.
When he awoke, he could feel the fire still burning merrily, the heat from
it gently warming his cheek. He lay perfectly still, keeping his breathing
even, as he looked for what had woken him. He couldnt smell anything out
of place, and no noises drifted to his ears from the dark around him.
No noises at all, save the sputtering of the fire. The night life was
He waited, patiently. Nothing changed. He finally cracked one eye partly
Standing on the other side of the fire was a young girl, partially obscured
by the flames. She stood, unmoving, gazing at him steadily with deep
vibrant eyes the colour of a summer sky on a hot day, shocking against her
pale skin and white blonde hair. Shed known the second he awoke, though
he'd kept up the pretence, one eye open only enough to watch her. She said
She carried no scent, though she looked as solid as he himself.
The wind shifted suddenly, and the fire blazed up. When it died back down,
she was gone. He was out of his sleeping bag in an instant and where she
had stood, straining his senses for any hint of her identity.
There wasnt a single track in the campsite, save for his own.
Then the wind was whipping past his face, carrying the scent of turning
leaves, hot asphalt, and exhaust. Shaking his head, Logan gave himself a
mental smack as he snapped out of it, thankful that he hadnt lost his
balance on the motorcycle. His healing factor would look after him, but it
would still hurt like a bugger if he crashed. The dreams were coming even
during the day now. He had no control over them, couldnt even feel them
Hed hoped that theyd stop after he left Xaviers, but in the two months
since then, theyd only increased in frequency. Hed been free of them for
almost two years. Now he wondered if he shouldve told Chuck about them,
let the man take a few laps inside his head, trying to figure out what had
caused them. Theyd started suddenly, a bit more than three years ago,
brought on by nothing that he could pin down. Theyd ended just as
abruptly, not bothering until he was saved by the weather witch and one
The worst part of it was, back then, he had never been able to remember
them for long after waking, just that they felt incredibly real. Now, they
seemed to blend with the weather witchs soft voice and white hair, the way
that Marie had looked at him when shed said that she couldnt touch
people. Now they haunted him incessantly.
Opening the throttle up, Logan accelerated, pulling easily up to the car
that shared the road with him. The man inside flipped him the bird.
Logan grinned at him, and popped his middle claw. The mans face contorted
in shock, and Logan moved the motorcycle out in front as the driver swerved
on the road.
Jackass, he muttered under his breath.
Leaving the car behind him, Logan roared down the old highway. Just
enjoying the feel of air in his face, he followed the road where it led,
trying to clear his head. He turned onto the interstate, weaving among the
heavier traffic on Scotts liberated bike. When it grew too heavy, he
pulled into the lanes and impatiently waited.
*I gotta be getting near a big city,* he thought. He hadnt been paying
much attention to where he was going, not really caring, but being slowly
drawn here. Looking around, he saw a sign that read Boston City Limits, 20
Miles. It hung slightly crooked on orange posts.
Recognition stirred within him, and he felt filled with the echoes of a
sudden need to hurry. Times running out, he whispered. The conscious
part of him knew that this was the remnants of memories long past, buried
under the amnesia. But that part was being submerged in alien feelings,
worry for someone, and something akin to panic rising up in him. He pulled
to the shoulder and gunned the motor, speeding towards the rising buildings
he could see faintly, off in the distance.
By the time he actually reached the outskirts, he was thinking rationally
again. He was in a huge city, his cash reserves almost depleted. He
couldnt set camp in the park, couldnt hunt for his food. Hed need to
find a place to chain the bike, a chain, a job.
The thought of turning around, or driving right through Boston never
crossed his mind.
He was already in too deep.
Jack, the mutant known only as Mastermind started as he walked into the
huge office. The man seated in the leather chair raised his hand,
motioning the telepath to stop. He continued to look out the plate glass
window, at the city bustling fifty stories below them, as he finished his
call on the headset.
He spun the chair around to face his subordinate, hanging the headset over
the corner of the flat screen monitor. Rubbing his dark hair, the man
asked, What is it, Mastermind? His cultured voice was heavy with a
Well, sir, Im afraid youre not going to like this. Hes back in town.
Who? the other man asked in exasperation. He took a look at Masterminds
face, and knew. Does my daughter know?
No, I checked her blocks. They're still holding strong. Shes under
Good. Does he remember?
I don't think so, but Im afraid to go too deeply into his mind. Hes
been in contact with a very powerful telepath. I dont want to take the
chance that hes still under surveillance, but if I had to hazard a guess,
Id say that he has no idea.
So by acting, we might create a situation where there was none?
Keep up passive scans on him. I want to know what hes doing, who hes
seeing, what hes eating. Well leave him alone for the time being, see
how it develops. But if there is the smallest sign...
And Mastermind, the man continued, his cold voice stopping the mutant as
he headed for the door. When we are here, Im always Robert. And to you,
Im always Mr. Frost.
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