Title: Shadows of Sin: A Mutant Sue Virus Sequel

Chapter Title: Go to sleep...

Fandom: X-Men, Comics Universe, Earth-6916

Rating: 18+
Warnings: Violence, rape, anal, oral, drug use, captivity, abuse, angst, pregnancy. M/F, M/M, M/M/F…Read at your own risk.
Disclaimer: The recognizable characters and the setting used here are the property of Marvel Comics. Those characters described as “Mutant Sues” or “Mary Sues” are the property of Ladydeathfaerie, Nanaea, Dazzledfirestar, SilverFoxChan, and Ginevra.

This story is a fic-in-trade for Ladydeathfaerie and is intended as a sequel to The Mutant Sue Virus. The story begins approximately six months after the events of Mutant Sue. This is a dark fic as requested by the Lady. The darkest I’ve written to date in my opinion. Enjoy.

Missed something and need to catch up? Shadows of Sin: The Index

Chapter Twelve: Go to sleep…

“Come to bed, sweetheart.” Logan sat up against the pillows and patted the empty space next to him. “Ya need yer sleep.”

“I can’t.” The nightmares hadn’t stopped. The only thing that stopped them was staying awake. So that’s what she was doing. Or trying to.

“Dare.” He rose now to take her by the shoulders. When she flinched, she saw the pain in his eyes. But he didn’t let go. Instead his grip tightened a little and he moved her firmly towards the bed. “If ya don’t come lay down with me, I’ll go get Hank to give ya something.”

“No! No drugs.” She pulled away from him, but climbed into the bed obediently. His bed. No one argued about where she slept anymore. Except her. She wished she could just go curl up with Morgan in her room.

But Morgan wasn’t there. She was sleeping in the Infirmary to be close to Remy. So here she was, with Logan again. She crawled under the blankets and pulled them tightly around her. Logan slipped in beside her and turned out the light. He reached for her and she stiffened.

He sighed in the darkness. But he didn’t let go. Instead he pulled her stiff body into his arms and pillowed her head on his shoulder. She fought the urge to push him away. This was hard. So damned hard. She wanted to be there, she really did.

But she was afraid. This was Logan. He loved her. He wouldn’t hurt her. He wanted to protect her and keep her safe. But each touch, each time he spoke; it was as if Victor was there. And the awful part of it was that some small part of her wished that he was.

That was wrong, wasn’t it? She hated him. Hated what he’d done to her and to Remy. Hated what he’d done to Morgan and Logan by taking them away. Hated him for leaving her like that. Pregnant, unconscious, lost…

He’d been cruel and frightening. Vicious. Depraved. Sadistic. He’d nearly killed Remy.

He’d called her beautiful. Held her in his arms, much like Logan was holding her now. Kissed her and caressed her. He’d even said he would miss her. And this baby… If it was his how could she hate him without hating the baby too?

The tears started again, slipping down her cheeks and wetting Logan’s skin. He stroked her hair gently as the tears poured from her, forging hot trails down her face. When they finally stopped her eyes felt dry and scratchy. Her head was aching. And she was so very, very tired. Sleep was dragging her down into the darkness. The last thing she was aware of was Logan’s lips pressed against her forehead, his breath warm against her skin.

Logan lay awake for some time, staring at the ceiling. He wondered if he was doing the right thing, insisting that she sleep with him. Refusing to let her push him away. Was he helping? Or making things worse for her?

He just couldn’t bear the thought of not being able to touch her. Not now. Not after all this. That was what Creed really wanted. To leave Dare, Logan’s woman, alive but untouchable. A living, breathing slap in the face.

No. He wouldn’t let that happen. It would just take time and patience. He had plenty of time. And the patience he could work on. Dare needed him. Poor Morgan was wearing herself to a thread, trying to split her time between the two. It had been easier when they were both in one place, hadn’t it?

He felt guilty. He felt that somehow he should be there too, with Morgan. That she shouldn’t have to sit alone with Remy. And maybe the kid deserved someone else there, too.

Damn it. Go to sleep old man. Sleep…

~*~

Sleep. Sleep used to be a welcome escape from the living nightmare that was his captivity with Dare. Now it was something elusive, hard to achieve and harder to hang on to.

Nightmares. Dreams that left him screaming hoarsely in the quiet darkness of the Infirmary. Screams that brought Morgan blinking, pale and frightened, to his bedside. Frightening dreams, not just of Victor and his games. Dreams filled with older monsters, ones more human but no less sadistic.

He clung to her hand in the darkness. Reassured her that it was all right when he didn’t believe it himself. Let her believe that it was only Creed who haunted him. She carried enough of his burdens already.

Was that what she dreamed of? More often than not, it was he who watched her sleep. Heard her cry out in her dreams. He called her name, but she didn’t wake. He stumbled from his bed to touch her, shake her. Still, she didn’t wake. Would not wake until it passed.

Fear. Shame. Rage. Pain. Hate. Emotions poured off of her, thick and choking and he recoiled from them. But still, he shook her, tried to wake her. When she finally woke, she’d blink up at him, sleepy and confused. She seemed to have no memory of whatever shades had passed through her dreams and was more concerned that he was out of bed than of any lingering nightmares.

“What you dream of, cher? You crying in you sleep for de last hour. Remy try an’ try to wake you up.”

“Nothing, Rem. Whatever it was, it’s gone.” She shrugged. “You shouldn’t be out of bed. How did you get out without setting one of the monitors off?”

“You sure you don’ remember?” Remy caught her arm, refusing to be moved when she tried to drag him back to his bed. “You scared, angry…”

“I’m tired and annoyed.” Morgan grumbled at him. “You were supposed to be sleeping.” Touching her confirmed that she was just what she said, no hint of deception in her.

“It hard to sleep in dis place. Ever’ting got lights and make little noises…” He let himself be led back to his bed. He watched her straighten his blankets, with clumsiness borne of fatigue. Guilt again…Morgan was spending too much time baby-sitting him and not enough living her own life. “You don’t got to do dat. Remy fine.”

“Don’t argue with me. I’m too tired for that.” She smoothed his blankets over his chest. “Go to sleep, Rem.” She leaned over him to kiss his cheek. He touched her face.

“You don’t got to stay, petit. Remy a big boy. Go sleep in you own bed.”

“No.” Her tone was sharp. She pulled away from him. Then she spoke again, softer, a hint of the old playfulness creeping in. “Why should I sleep alone when I’ve got you?” He smiled a little at the feeble joke. But he sobered as he watched her climb back into her bed.

Why should she sleep alone? He felt broken and tainted. The idea of touching her, making love to her… He didn’t know if he could again. After all the things he’d done. Did she really know what he’d done to Dare? The things Creed had done to him and what he’d done to…to please the monster?

Now he wished he could sleep. To escape the awful thoughts that crawled through his brain like rats in a sewer. He didn’t deserve her devotion. He was weak. Too weak to stand up to Creed. Too weak to resist the drugs. So weak that he’d become again the whore he’d tried to forget. He was tempted to end it. To send her away. Let her have her life back. Find someone else.

But he was weak. Too weak to do it. Too weak to give her up.

He curled up beneath the blanket, turning his face from her so she wouldn’t see the tears if she should happen to wake. How could she still love him?

Morgan…

~*~

“Hello, Victor.”

“What?” Creed turned startled eyes from the road. The girl had simply appeared next to him. She was sitting there, calm as you please and real as life in the passenger seat of his truck. She smiled at him and her green eyes glittered coldly in her face. “How the fuck did you get here?” He shot a clawed hand for her throat but it passed harmlessly through her and he snarled in frustration.

She laughed. She fucking laughed at him. A sweet, girlish sound that jangled his nerves.

“Get the fuck out of my truck, bitch.”

“Or what? You’ll kill me?” Again, that laugh. “You can’t touch me unless I let you, Victor. But I can touch you. Whenever I want.”

“We’ll see about that.” He made another grab for her, with just as much success. Then he returned his hand to the wheel, gripping it so hard his knuckles whitened. “One day I’ll catch ya. Ya gotta go solid sometime. Or mebbe I’ll go back and finish what I started with yer little friends.”

“You won’t touch them again. Ever.” Her tone was cold, voice pitched low. A small hand joined his on the steering wheel and he glanced at her. Her eyes glowed. Red on black, like the boy’s.

“What the fuck?” He reached for her hand. Too late he felt the warm tingle of energy bathing the steering wheel in a red glow.

“Might want to keep your eyes on the road, Victor.” She drew her hand back and laughed.

Her laughter was still ringing in his ears when the steering wheel exploded in his face. It wasn’t quite enough to knock him unconscious. He watched helplessly while the truck veered off the highway and down an embankment. The world spun as the truck flipped over and over again before finally coming to rest on its roof. He found himself pinned beneath it, barely conscious.

“You really should wear your seat belt, you know.” She was back, crouching beside him. She reached out to touch his face, her fingers warm and solid. He could even smell her.

“Come ta finish me off?” He hissed around the pain in his ribs and scrabbled at the metal that pinned him. “Or ain’t ya got the guts, little girl?”

“Oh no. I’m only getting started.” She gave him a brilliant smile, eyes green and glittering. Before his eyes, they changed, becoming cat slitted, the planes of her face changing to something more angular and not quite human. The smile remained. “You will pay for what you’ve done, Victor Creed.”

“Go to Hell!” She laughed again, that sweet girlish sound, though the mirth didn’t reach her eyes. Then abruptly the smile vanished and she leaned closer to him. So close he could feel her breath against his face, the chill of death rather than the warmth of the living.

“I will feast on your flesh and drink of your blood.” She stroked his face and the touch sent fiery pain screaming along his nerves. He smelled the sickening stench of burning hair and skin. “But you shall not die. Even Hell shall offer you no sanctuary.” Another searing touch, he choked back a scream of pain. “Run, Victor. Run far away. It won’t matter. You can’t hide from me.”

“I don’t run from nobody.”

“Suit yourself.” She smiled at him again, her face once more human. The face of the Cajun’s woman. But now he knew it for the mask it was. “I’ll be seeing you. Take care.” She vanished again, leaving him in the dark. Alone.

For now.

~*~

By the time Remy was released from the Infirmary, he was more than happy to say goodbye to the smell of antiseptic and the hard, unyielding bed. All the things that beeped or droned or made some other small noise. And of course, to be rid the constant supervision.

There were no plans to return him to active duty. He was still weak and pale. The drugs and the forced inactivity had robbed him of physical strength. Instead, he was to begin teaching a few courses, mostly French. And to assist Logan in overseeing the Danger Room sessions.

By the time he returned to his room that evening, he was exhausted. Even “light duty” had sapped his strength. Not to mention all the stares and veiled questions sent his way. Most of the school had been given a much-edited version of what had happened to himself and Dare. Their curiosity and concern had beat against his nerves over and over until all he wanted was to be left alone.

But, that wasn’t meant to be.

“You go sleep in you own bed, tonight. You need sleep; you got all dem classes to catch up wit’.” Morgan had followed him back to his room and pressed her way in, obviously intent on spending the night.

“No. I’m staying with you.”

“Non. Remy jus’ want to sleep. Don’ need trouble from Summers over dis.”

“He’s got nothing to say about it, Rem. You know Dare’s been sleeping in Logan’s room, don’t you?”

“Non.” The news surprised him a little. Enough that she was able to slip past him, dropping a heavy knapsack on one of his chairs. “Wouldn’ expect dat so soon.” He scowled at her.

“Remy, if it’s not me, it’ll be Logan. Doctor’s orders. The only way he’d let you guys go was if we promised not to leave you alone. Especially at night. Not for a while, at least.”

“Merde. Remy not a child.” He muttered, shutting the door and crossing to the bed. He let himself collapse onto it, too weary to argue. But he tried anyway. “He don’ need his hand held.”

“Maybe I don’t want to be alone.” Morgan’s voice was so quiet that he barely heard her. She continued to dig in her knapsack and pulled out a dorm shirt.

“You got a room mate, cher.” His stomach was churning with nervousness. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to sleep with her there. Too much had happened since they had last shared a bed.

“It’s not the same, Rem.” Morgan turned to him to fix him with that direct green gaze of hers. The one that used to send electric shivers through him. Now they were shivers of apprehension. Could anything ever be the same between them? “I’m not leaving you alone in the dark with those nightmares. If you don’t want me in the bed, I’ll sleep on the floor.” She sounded hurt and he could feel her pain and worry. Worry about him.

“Non. You don’ sleep on de floor.” This was a childish argument wasn’t it? His shoulders slumped as he surrendered. “Remy jus’ tired, cher.”

“Good. You want the bathroom first?”

“Oui.”

Fifteen minutes later, they were beneath the blankets together for the first time since the abduction. Together, but not together, carefully not touching. As tired as he was, sleep wouldn’t come. He could feel her next to him, could feel the strain of her attempts to keep her emotions locked up behind her shields. He shifted and brushed a leg against hers and she jumped like she’d been burned.

This was foolishness. He sighed and reached for her, pulling her close. It was easier than he’d thought. Once he touched her, he realized how much he needed to touch someone. Even in those awful cages he and Dare had touched one another. For comfort and just to know someone else was there. In fact, he missed that touch. It had been the one thing in all that pain and terror that had brought him comfort.

He wrapped his arms around the girl and buried his face in her hair. He breathed deeply of her scent. Shampoo, toothpaste, and something fruity that was probably her lip-gloss. She stiffened at first, returning his embrace awkwardly. Then she relaxed against him. He felt her shields loosen a little and a sort of fragile warmth washed over him.

Somehow it felt strange and familiar all at once to hold her again. They settled against one another more comfortably. With her back against his chest and her head tucked under his chin, at last he found sleep.

The nightmares came again, in the dark still of the night. But they were a little easier to shake off with Morgan’s warm body next to his. Somehow he managed not to wake her. And once his heart stopped its frantic beating, he was able to sleep again. If Morgan’s nightmares returned, he slept through them without waking.

It was the best night’s sleep he’d had since waking up in the Infirmary.

~*~

Logan was worried. Dare still wasn’t sleeping well. The nightmares kept coming and she still wasn’t comfortable sleeping in the same bed. He was starting to wonder if she ever would be. But she’d quit arguing about where she slept.

He was glad to see the Cajun out and about, finally. Morgan looked a bit more chipper these days, though Le Beau was just a pale shadow of his usual self. Logan got the sense he was just going through the motions. He was tempted to pull Morgan aside. To talk to her and find out if things were getting better or not.

But then again, maybe he should keep his distance. They had never talked about telling Dare or Remy about what had happened. Personally, he didn’t think either one of them could handle something like that right now. And he wanted so badly to go to Morgan, to make sure she was all right, that he was afraid that it was something more than just concern.

He needed to concentrate on Dare. And Morgan needed to focus her energies on Remy. At least he could take some of the pressure of her by taking care of Dare. Dare was his girl, anyway. So that was that.

He’d made his decision to butt out. But, maybe he’d been too hasty. When Remy showed up to help in the Danger Room control booth, he was as pale as a ghost. There was none of the usual jokes or digging comments from the lanky Cajun. He simply did as Logan asked without comment, fingers flashing over the keyboard and red eyes locked on the monitors.

“Hey Gumbo. How’s it going?” He’d meant it as a friendly pat on the shoulder, but the younger man nearly shot out of his chair. The unmistakable scent of fear hung in the air. There was fear too, in the set of his shoulders and the wide-eyed look the Cajun shot him.

“Fine.” The shrug was a forced thing. Logan didn’t miss the tremor in his hands as they returned to the keyboard. “How things wit’ you and Dare?”

“Going slow. But as good as ya could expect, under the circumstances.” He backed away, giving the other man some space. Since when was the kid afraid of him? He didn’t think Logan was angry about what happened with Dare, did he? “How’s it going with you and Morgan, there? Heard she’s been staying with you.”

“Fine. We doin’ fine.” It was a lie. Logan could smell it on him. And read it in the tense set of his shoulders.

“Look. I been wanting to talk to ya. About what happened.” He did his best to sound non-threatening. They had a few minutes before the next session. As good a time as any. He actually heard the man swallow before he turned to respond.

“Don’ really want to talk about it.”

“Think maybe we oughtta clear the air.” Logan leaned against a control panel. “Ya know I don’t blame ya for any of this, right? I know Creed. Better’n just about anybody. Ya did good just ta make it out alive.”

“Should have done some’ting more. Was weak. Let him take us, let him…do what he did.” Remy turned back to his keyboard and rested his fingers on the keys. But they didn’t move. “Remy don’ want to hurt her. She don’ deserve none o’ what happen.” There was bitterness and pain in his voice. Guilt, too.

“Creed’s been at this a long time. He’s as good as I am. Maybe better at some things. Anybody can get caught by surprise.” He moved closer and debated reaching out to touch the Cajun again. But the scent of fear still hung in the air. “It’s my fault you was there at all. It was me that asked ya to talk to her. Or did ya forget?”

“Non. I remember.” The long fingers began to move across the keyboard again. “You an’ Morgan, you trust me. And I fail you both.”

“You kept her alive. Kept both of ya alive. I don’t give a damn how you did it, Remy.” This time he did touch the man, let his hand rest on his shoulder. He could feel the muscles tense beneath his hand. “Sabertooth ain’t known fer leaving survivors. I was expectin’ ta bring home corpses. Woulda turned back if it weren’t fer Morgan and Faye insistin’ you two was still alive.”

“It a close ting, homme.” Remy’s voice was very quiet. He pulled away from Logan’s hand slowly.

“Yeah. I know. I owe ya one, Gumbo.” Logan let the subject drop, along with his hand and returned to his station. Cyke and the newest batch of recruits should be showing up any minute…