X-Men: Dark Mirror

by Marjorie M. Liu

  "Okay, then." Remy briefly shut his eyes. "Okay. So something's different. He's not the same man. You don't mean that literally, do you, ma petite?"

  "Don't ask me!" she said. "Jeez, who's the adult here?"

  Remy gave her a dirty look. "We need to talk to 'Ro."

  "No kidding. Have you noticed anything weird? Like, with Rogue?"

  "I haven't seen her much," Remy confessed. "She's been staying in her room a lot."

  "I find that highly suspicious."

  "That's not sayin' much. Mood you're in, you'd persecute a kitten."

  "Right on, dude. Down with 'em all." She stood up, gesturing for Remy to do the same. "Now move it! We're in the middle of Invasion of the Body Snatchers, here. No time to relax."

  Remy grumbled something unflattering. They went to find Ororo.

  The phone rang as they entered the main hall. There were several public phones placed through the Mansion; easy access for anyone who needed to make a call or answer one. Jubilee was only three steps away from the receiver when Scott came bursting out of a side office. He blocked the phone with his body and picked up the receiver.

  "Hey," Jubilee said, smacking him on the shoulder. He ignored her. She hated that.

  She heard him say the name "Mindy" and then everything else was a garbled mess and he hung up the phone.

  "Who's Mindy?"

  "A wrong number," Scott said, turning around to face them.

  "We don't usually get wrong numbers," Remy said. "You sure?"

  "You think I wouldn't be?" There was a challenge in his voice that didn't sound like him at all, and made Jubilee uneasy. She grabbed Remy's hand and tugged him away.

  "S'kay, Cyke," she said. "We believe you."

  "That's better," he said, in a self-important tone that for a moment carried the subtle hint of an odd accent. Giving them one last hard look, he returned to his office and shut the door.

  "You were sayin' something about Body Snatching?" Remy said.

  "Uh-huh," she said, sick.

  It went unsaid between them, but as they walked through the Mansion they took care to avoid the rest of the team, those who had gone to Seattle. Jubilee was not quite sure how to hide her suspicions from a psychic like Jean—it was possible, even, that she was already aware that Jubilee was getting Freaked Out. If that was the case, then the game was up. Until she found out for certain, though, her strategy was simple: avoid, avoid, avoid.

  And then, if she had to, kick some butt. Yeah, baby.

  They found Ororo in Xavier's study, sitting behind his desk like she belonged there. For a moment, Jubilee felt a pang of anxiety, and then Ororo looked up from the paperwork in front of her and smiled. A real smile, genuine and utterly familiar. Jubilee sighed.

  "You feel like going out for dinner?" Remy asked, closing the door behind him. "I know a great little spot in town you haven't tried yet."

  "I do not think so," Ororo said, looking curiously at him. "One of us has to stay here and watch the students."

  "Ah," he said, and looked at Jubilee with a smile tainted by bitterness. 'You just told me all I need to know, 'Ro."

  "Excuse me?"

  "You don' trust them, either. Scott, and the others."

  Ororo s breath caught. Jubilee said, "You didn't even think about it, did you? You completely marked them off."

  "No," Ororo said, but Jubilee shook her head.

  "You did. It's like us. You feel that weird vibe."

  "More'n a vibe," Remy added. "Something happened on that mission to Seattle. The others came back ... different."

  "Rogue's silence can be blamed on trauma," Ororo began, but Remy raised his hand.

  "It's not just Rogue. It's Kurt, too. Scott and Jean. Wolverine? They're different, 'Ro. I can't tell you how, but it's real. Haven't you noticed?"

  "Maybe," Ororo conceded slowly. "I must admit, I turned on the psychic dampeners when I entered this office. I would say, in all likelihood, that this is the only safe place in the Mansion for us to talk."

  Jubilee's eyes widened. "You went that far and you're still arguing with us?"

  Remy frowned. 'You think Jean's been compromised?"

  "Compromised? I don't know if anyone has been 'compromised.' Only, you're right. Something is different with them. Something ... not right."

  "Duh," Jubilee said. "I think you can leave the understatements at home, Storm. Now is the time for big honkin' gestures."

  "Like body snatching," Remy added.

  Ororo raised her eyebrows. "I do not think so."

  "I totally think so," Jubilee said. "Have you been paying attention to the way they're acting? Wolverine is off his rocker. In tiny ways, maybe, but off. So is Scott. I haven't seen Kurt lately, but if he's anything like the others, I'm gonna start sleeping with a knife under my pillow."

  "This is ridiculous," Ororo said. "Remy?"

  "I'm beginning to agree with her, 'Ro. Considering all the crazy and powerful people we've met over the years, can you really discount the possibility?"

  "That five of the most powerful mutants in the world are being possessed by some unknown entity? I don't want to consider the possibility. It makes me sick to my stomach." Ororo closed her eyes, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Let's say you are right. What reason would someone do this?"

  "Power, money, out to ruin us ... does it matter? The real question is, has it been done, and if so, how do we reverse it?" Remy reached into his pocket and pulled out a deck of cards. He started shuffling, which was a pure sign of anxiety in Jubilee's book.

  "How about Professor X?" Jubilee said. "He could figure this out in no time flat."

  "I have been trying to call him," Ororo said. "I keep receiving a busy signal on the other end."

  "You sure it's the other end?" Rerny asked. "Maybe there's a reason you can't get ahold of him. A reason that starts here."

  Ororo's jaw tightened. "Ever since they returned, I have been trying to convince myself that the differences I sensed were due to some trauma none of them wished to discuss. I was going to respect that, and wait. Now . . . now you have me scared."

  "Good," Jubilee said. " 'Cause I'm ready to pee my pants."

  "Yes, well." Ororo stood, smoothing out her dress. "I think it is time for a field trip. Every single student here at the Mansion needs to attend, don't you think?"

  "Absolument," Remy said. "Something overnight? Perhaps in the city?"

  "I have a dear friend in New York who might be willing to help chaperone. She has a rather spacious town- house that would accommodate all the children who are here during break. Jubilee, I would also be counting on you to help her."

  Jubilee coughed back a laugh. 'You have got to be kidding. No way, Storm. I'm staying here." "No."

  'Yes. You need all the help you can get."

  "You're only fifteen."

  "And who taught me everything I know? What age was I when I first joined the X-Men? You never treated me like a kid, then."

  "I do not have time for this," Ororo said, but Remy shook his head.

  "Let her stay, 'Ro. She's right. We need help."

  "You might as well have me keep all the students here," she muttered, but then shook her head and said, "Fine. You may stay."

  "Cool." Jubilee shot Remy a grateful smile.

  "I need to make some calls," she said. "Why don't you two start investigating the logs in the jet. Find out exactly what happened in Seattle. Perhaps, even, find out where Logan's contact got his information."

  "On it." Jubilee saluted her.

  "Please be careful," she said to them. "If things are as bad as they seem, we cannot predict the behavior of our friends. They could be capable of almost anything."

  Which was a sobering thought. Jubilee said, "If everyone really has been body-snatched, then where did they go? Is Wolvie still inside there, fighting to come out?"

  "I hope so," Remy said. "I don' want to think about the alternative."

  "Neither do I," Jubilee said, but she had a feeling she ju
st wasn't that lucky.

  14

  They drove all night, taking turns and stopping just once in Spokane, for gas and a change of cars. By four that morning, they were well into Montana.

  "No speed limit. I love this state." Logan sat in the passenger seat as Rogue drove. He glanced over his shoulder; the others were dozing. Uncomfortable as hell, probably, but they were too tired to care where and how they got shut-eye, just as long as they did. Logan could relate. This body of his just wasn't used to long hauls.

  "How are you doing?" he asked Rogue.

  "You asked me that ten minutes ago, sugah. Maybe you should get some rest."

  "I've been telling myself the same thing. I just can't seem to fall asleep."

  "I thought you were the kind who conked out pretty fast."

  "I am, but maybe that's a body-specific thing."

  "Maybe. How do you like being a woman? Any deep thoughts?"

  "Darlin', if you're expecting deep thoughts, you're talking to the wrong man."

  Rogue laughed, but there was a tightness to her eyes

  that made Logan squint against the shadows. It irritated him to no end that his eyesight was no longer good enough to see in the dark.

  "What is it?" he asked softly. "What's troubling you, darlin'?"

  "Nothing," she said. "What makes you ask?"

  "Instinct," he said. "And I know you too well. Come on, Rogue. It's a long drive and with those sleeping beauties back there, it's just you and me. Spill."

  She hesitated. He had some idea of what she would say and he was not far wrong.

  "It's that man I killed," she told him. "I can't stop thinking about him."

  "Yeah?" he said. "Nothing wrong with that."

  "Everything is wrong," she argued. "He's dead."

  "We already discussed this, darlin'. You were trying to stop him from killing someone. It was in self-defense."

  "It's more than that. It was arrogance, Logan. My arrogance. I thought this body," and she stopped, gesturing at herself as though she were something distasteful, "wouldn't be strong enough to kill. I didn't hold back."

  Logan sighed. Rogue was one of the finest women he knew, but she could hold on to guilt like it was a second superpower. It did not make sense to him to feel bad about things you could not change. Better to learn from mistakes and just move on. Of course, he was a different kind of animal from Rogue. She was more civilized than he.

  "Let it go," he said, trying to make her understand. Her lips tightened into a thin line and he shook his head, exasperated. "Forget it, then. I give up, Rogue. I don't know how you do it. How you manage to be the oldest woman I've ever known while living in such a young body."

  "You can stop now."

  "Fine." He leaned away from her and stared out the window, watching shadows pass along the freeway. A moment later he felt a warm hand touch him, fingers curling around his fingers.

  "Thank you," she said softly. "I do appreciate it."

  Logan squeezed her hand. "Anytime, darlin'. Anytime you need to talk. I'll always be there for you."

  Rogue pulled over at the next rest stop and everyone clambered out to stretch their legs and use the restroom. The parking lot was full with semitrucks, red and yellow edge lights twinkling like it was Christmas. It was still early enough for the sky to be dark, though the birdsong had changed.

  The building itself was almost empty. Logan thought he glimpsed some tall figure in an alcove looking at maps. It was almost four in the morning; most everyone, especially the truckers, were tucked snug in their cabs and cars, fast asleep. Logan began to follow Kurt into the men's bathroom and was saved by a loose arm draped over his shoulders. Rogue, steering him into the woman's bathroom. Personally, he did not see how it really mattered where he went.

  "Remember your place," she whispered, her breath tickling his ear. She glanced at Scott, who was just now emerging from the bathroom. He had been the first to jump out of the car, charging into the rest stop like there

  was some Sentinel inside needing its tin metal butt kicked. Scott said nothing, but Logan thought he looked infinitely more comfortable.

  The bathroom smelled and the toilets had seen better I days—better ends of a bleach bottle, too. He really misled standing up.

  "You okay over there?" Rogue called over the stall, her voice monstrously loud. "I'm not hearing any tinkle- tinkle."

  "Ain't none of your business what I'm doing in here," he said, still standing up. He had already done this multiple times, but it never got easier. It felt so wrong.

  "Sure thing," Rogue said, clearly proud of her own wondrous ability to relieve herself. Her toilet flushed and then she was out, washing her hands. He heard her slap water on her face.

  "You going to be okay if I head back to the car? Logan?"

  "Sure," he said, gritting his teeth as he finally went through the motions. "Just get away from me. I'm concentrating."

  She chuckled, and he heard the door swing open. Less than a minute later someone else entered. He wondered if it was Rogue, but kept his mouth shut. The last thing he wanted to do was talk to some stranger. He finished, flushed, and left the stall. Stopped. A man stood in front of him. Tall, with a narrow face and hollow cheeks. He wore a tight T-shirt and jeans. Logan thought he looked familiar, and placed him as the map-reader.

  "You're not supposed to be in here," Logan said, already planning his moves, the classics: throat, nose, groin. He shifted to the balls of his feet, hands loose and ready at his sides. Great. Didn't seem to matter what he looked like; he always attracted the weirdos.

  The man smiled. His teeth were very sharp. Too sharp.

  Logan thought, Oh, crap, and then he had to dart sideways because the mutant attacked. Logan slammed his fist into the soft part of his throat, following up with another blow to the nose. The combined impact did not slow his assailant in the slightest. His fingers lengthened, scraping Logan's shoulders, searching for a hold. Logan batted away those hands. He got in another punch and then one more, and he watched the man smile, so wicked, confident and smug, and he realized those blows meant nothing to him, weren't even tickling his skin. Jerk was a mutant and he needed a mutant to fight him. That, or Logan was going to require something stronger than two small fists of fury.

  He was not fast enough, not in this body. Impossibly long fingers wrapped around his ankles and he hit the ground hard, slamming the back of his head into the tile. Stunned, dazed, he still tried to kick, to scoot backward. The man fell on top of him, fingers uncurling from ankles and snaking upward to wrap tight like rope around Logan's soft arms. Logan snarled, trying to buck him off. Nothing worked. Enhanced mutant strength. For one moment, Logan understood why humans hated his kind.

  "Get off me," Logan growled. The door to the bathroom rattled. Logan head Rogue's voice, asking if he was all right. He shouted out to her and got head-butted for his trouble.

  "Shhh," hissed the man, speaking for the first time. "Be still."

  "You idiot," Logan said, struggling. 'You must be the worst rapist ever."

  The man smiled. His mouth was close and hot and wet Soft, he whispered, "Who said anything about rape?"

  Logan watched those lips peel back, those teeth glint white and sharp. He thought he saw meaty bits plugging the gaps between them.

  The door rattled again. Logan shouted as that scraping mouth touched his cheek.

  And then a boom rattled the air, a concussive blast that knocked something out of the door, and Jean and Scott burst into the bathroom. Jean held a gun—that gun she had taken off the pimp—and she aimed it at the mutant holding down Logan and said, "Get off him right now or I will shoot you in the face."

  He hesitated. Jean said, "Now."

  And then behind them another figure entered, a man—

  —a gun went off. The mutant's head exploded and Logan got a mouthful of blood that had him spitting. He heard Scott say, "No," and Jean added, "I didn't do it."

  Logan was blind with blood in his eyes and cou
ld not move his arms to wipe it away. His ears were fine, though, and he heard a low voice, the voice of a stranger, and the man said, "Hope you don't mind, sir, but I always wanted to kill me a mutant."

  And Logan was fine with that. Really.

  His name was Duke, or at least, that was what he called himself. Logan did not imagine his mother had given him that name. Duke drove a semi for a furniture company. He always carried a gun, and he did not like most mutants. Some were okay, but the rest could just go hang themselves because they were too dangerous to live, and if he couldn't even trust his sheriff not to be corrupt, or his wife to be faithful, or the local politicians to keep things on the up and up, well, he didn't put much stock in the ability of mutants with superpowers to keep from abusing the little guys. It was just a fact of life, according to Duke. Power made people corrupt. Why, look at that Magneto fellow, or the Brotherhood of Whatsit. Even those X-Men probably had some fishy deal up their sleeves.

  "Probably," Logan said, shaking his hand. "Thanks, Duke. You sure you'll be okay?"

  "Yeah," he said. "Like I told you, the sheriff around these parts doesn't like mutants too much, and I got a dozen witnesses here says you were being attacked. Or at least, he was on top of you when I shot him. I'll just say you got scared and ran away. Nothing's going to happen to me, sweetheart. Won't even make the papers."