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Bellwether
By : Nemain
Category: X-Men - Animated Series (all) > General
Views: 4549 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0Disclaimer: I do not own X-Men Evolution, or any of the characters from it. I make no money from from the writing of this story. -
Chapter List
- 1-Bellwether
- 2-2
- 3-3
- 4-4
- 5-5
- 6-6
- 7-7
- 8-8
- 9-9
- 10-10
- 11-11
- 12-12
- 13-13
- 14-14
- 15-15
- 16-16
- 17-17
- 18-18
- 19-19
- 20-20
- 21-21
- 22-22
- 23-23
- 24-24
- 25-25
- 26-26
- 27-27
- 28-28
- 29-29
- 30-30
- 31-31
- 32-32
- 33-33
- 34-35
- 35-36
- 36-36
- 37-37
- 38-38
- 39-39
- 40-40
- 41-41
- 42-42
- 43-44
- 44-45
- 45-46
- 46-47
- 47-48
- 48-49
- 49-50
- 50-51
- 51-52
- 52-53
- 53-54
- 54-Epilogue
- 55-Epilogue
Bellwether Chapter Thirteen
Disclaimers Apply
A/N Goddess Foxfeather, Queen of Mad Plotbunnies, BUSIEST
WOMAN ALIVE ™, Prophetic Muse, Hamster Witch and Uberbeta… *sends minions to
drive off unpleasantness * InterNutter,
TC , Maxwell Pink, Dracena and Greywolf are loverly and wondermous for
archiving/hosting. J
ProPhile: See? Here you are… ;) Morgan:
I’ll be about tonight! Readers/Reviewers: Thank you so much for reading and
reviewing as you can! It’s much appreciated! *glomps all around *Mark
blinked once, then twice, the room swimming into an almost-focus. “Glasses,” he murmured, aware that his own
voice was enough to make his head throb.
“Need my glasses…” Blue hands
slid the earpieces into place and the haze cleared. “Ah,” the librarian sighed. “Thought so… how long have I been in the
medical ward?” His vision seemed
overbright but he knew that was simply because of having his eyes closed for so
long beforehand.“Well, the
year is two thousand and fifty five… Jubilation has risen to a position of power
and we must now swear fealty to her…”
Beast sighed mournfully, shaking his great head as if in sadness. “She is a harsh ruler and has ordered death
to anyone who is a bummer.”Mark felt
his brows ratchet up a notch. “The
doctor is funny… who knew?” He tried to
sit up but a wave of post-head injury nausea washed over him. “Oooooh…”“That’s
what you get for mocking my funny,” Beast chided, smiling faintly. “Just stay still for a moment while I check
your vitals.”Mark obeyed
silently, staring at the white ceiling with it’s discretely inlaid lighting,
musing at how the Professor, with all of his money, had even extended his
wealth to less industrialized illumination.
“That’s how you know it’s old money,” he commented. “He insists on finery even in secret places.”
As if a switch had been flipped, his
brows snapped together. “My. That was quite crude of me…” Tentatively, his fingers reached up to touch
his head—first his forehead, then his temple.
“How bad is my head injury?”Expression
amused, Beast replied, “Not that bad, actually.
I think you just had a very human slip of manners which, for most
people, is no big deal but for you, with your usual sense of propriety, is
quite mortifying. Or would be if anyone
had heard you.” He winked at Mark and busied himself filling out the necessary
paperwork for the librarian’s file.Venting a
soft breath, Mark flexed his limbs, testing for any pain response that should
not be there. Satisfied, he sat up very
slowly, swallowing a pang of nausea as he gained an upright position. He felt fine, mostly, aside from a mild
dizziness and the overwhelming craving for a smoke. “Do I need to sign anything? Any dire warnings for my health?” He slid to his feet, wincing again as a jolt
of electricity seemed to shoot straight up his spine and lodge for a moment
behind his eyes. His limbs suffused with
warmth and, for one frightful moment, Mark thought he was about to faint. The feeling passed, though, and he was
fine. At least, he thought, as fine as
he could be, given the circumstances. “Doctor
McCoy,” he said carefully, unwilling to blink lest he lose sight of what was
before him. “Is there a red female about
ten feet to your left?” Said female was
standing very still, head tilted to one side, lips pursed in what could only be
described as amusement. “And is she
naked?”“Yes and
yes,” Beast murmured, not looking up from his writing. “We’re calling her Penance, the only word she’s
spoken since arriving here. And she
refuses to keep clothes on,” he sighed, glancing at Mark before resuming his
writing. “She tears the fabric with her
skin.”“…right.” Mark nodded slowly, reaching for his shoes
that had been set thoughtfully on the table beside the exam bed. “Penance.
Red. Sharp skin. Understood.”
Part of his brain seemed oddly amused by this and he was fighting the
urge to giggle like a schoolchild while the rest of him was itching to run to
the library—something about this red woman was oddly familiar.“Oh, keep
an eye out for Jubilee,” Beast said as Mark eased himself towards the
door. “She’s quite concerned about you
and Remy had to take her practically by force from the room when you were first
brought in. She’s likely to tackle you
when she sees I didn’t kill you.”“Noted,”
Mark smiled, glad that someone had been worried about him but not quite
comfortable admitting such things. He
sighed as he stepped into the hall, the dim lighting and cool air doing a lot
more to revive his sense of well being than the bright lights and still
atmosphere of the medical ward. He took
mental stock of himself as he made his way towards the elevators at the far end
of the hall: coherent thought, check.
Functioning limbs, check check.
Overwhelming urge for a clove cigarette… weird. He frowned, punching the ‘up’ button. Maybe, he thought, it was because Remy was
nearby, the scent of Florida
water and clove bespeaking the Cajun’s proximity. He waited for the tell tale greeting from the
young man but received none as the doors slid open. Mark mentally shrugged and
stepped into the waiting car, closing himself off from Remy and whoever else
might be lurking, waiting in the medical ward hallway. The elevator stopped on the main floor and
Mark stepped out into another empty hall, blessedly near the library where his
feet started taking him, seeking refuge in the familiar. The door to the servants’ stairs was still
open a fraction, a dark slice of shadow beckoning him away from the sanctuary
of his books and organization. He
stopped in his tracks, his mental processes grinding to a seeming halt. Fall down, he thought. All the king’s horses and all the kings men[1],
he thought, eyes half-shut. Something he
needed to remember, something important.
A face blazed to life in his mind, a flicker of an image and then it was
gone, but it left a mark, a burning mark singed on his being. It was a primal feeling, he thought with some
discomfort, something he could not control.
He needed a drink. He needed, he
thought, shifting his path so that he was heading for the kitchen, a beer.[1] Couldn’t
put Humpty together again- You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
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