Fanfic time: Misfits part 39

Continued from yesterday:

  Such a crack could have ended the universe. 

  It could have very well ended Sara. 

  Todd stood, watching Logan reel under the force of the blow. His feet were rooted to the spot as the canuck staggered backwards. 

  Everyone was holding their breath. 

  Logan regained his footing. Straightened himself. Then, calm and cold as ice, put his jaw back into its socket. 

  {krik'l… *Krak*!} 

  “Lady Favisham’s girl, anh?” he said. 

  Sara, her hands over her mouth and her eyes wide, nodded. “…eep…” she managed. 

  “Got some impressive torque, there,” said Logan. “Be careful with it." 

  Sara blended in fright, and her costume blended with her. So did the belt. 

  There was a chorus of appreciative gasps. 

  Logan tossed the robe rather accurately at Todd. "An’ *that’s* why she’s *got* biomimetic fabric fer an outfit,” he said. “Can’t vanish in spandex. Now form a line, we’re workin’ on combat skills." 

  Todd could only pick Sara out with extreme difficulty, when she was blended. Even when she moved, there was only a blurring in the air to betray her existance. And if someone moved behind her, the image she made on the other side was out of synch and out of focus. 

  And all of that was on pure instinct. 

  She’d be unstoppable if she wanted to be, once her training came into effect. 

  As she waited in line, the fear faded and her scales returned to their normal bluish-aqua tone. She watched, intently, what the others were doing on the mats and against the mechanical puppets. 

  Todd had no doubts that he was cataloguing every move. 

  At last, she came up against Logan. 

  "Go get ‘im, sweets,” he whispered, not daring to shout.

~

  Sara stood ready. On guard. 

  “Solid stance,” said Logan. “Block." 

  She put her arms in his way, angling them so his blow went wide. She had to use a lot of downward sweeps because he was so much shorter. 

  "Too much flinch. Block." 

  Sara supposed it was because she was new that she got that much warning. She knew from personal experience - the most recent being the cause of the minor gash in her left temple - that an enemy never warned. 

  He got faster, the next time, and didn’t warn her. There were, though, occasional instructions. 

  "Stand yer ground. Don’t go back." 

  "Watch yer left." 

  He got in a 'death’ blow. "Never fall for a fake-out. Be ready." 

  "Don’t look at the floor." 

  "Try to get past me." 

  So she did. She left her left open enough to invite an attack, blocked and propelled him past, then pirouetted and drove her heel into his neck. 

  Even though she knew about the adamantium, and why it was beyond stupid to attack his head, it still hurt. 

  Logan was down on the floor. 

  "The hell you learn that, Tallwater?" 

  "Ballet. You *did* say to use everything we knew." 

  The rest of the class had fallen silent. Staring. 

  Sara tried not to think about her awful knees and blushed. 

  Logan picked himself up and cracked his neck. "Guess what you get for knockin’ me down." 

  "The same thing you get for a job well done?" 

  "Damn straight.” Logan got back into his fighter’s stance. “I might *teach* Kung Fu, but when ya fight, there’s no rules." 

  And, without warning, he attacked. Sara dodged like a matador and managed to land a tentative kick on his bottom. 

  "Nice improv, Tallwater. Don’t be afraid. *Do* it.” Another lunge. 

This time, she got a knee into his gut… and lost her footing in the process. 

  “Don’t be scared, damnit. I won’t break.” He waited until she was up and lunged again, grabbing her. “Now what'cha gonna do?" 

  "Stomach! Instep! Nose! Groin!” Each blow was landed with anatomical precision and lightning quickness. She spun out of his weakened grasp and used the torque to deliver the back of a relaxed fist to his temple. 

  “…better…” he croaked. “Yer still holdin’ back." 

  "I don’t like hurting my friends." 

  "In an all-out fight, there ain’t no friends,” he barked. “Here an’ now, I’m yer enemy, girlie! Picture me as the goddamn *enemy*!" 

  And that’s exactly what she did. 

  When she emerged from the other side of the red haze, she had two people per limb holding her down, Todd straddling her torso and trying to get her to calm down, and Logan was across the room with Ororo tending his wounds. 

  Why was she crying? Why was she *shaking*? 

  And whose blood was in her mouth? 

  ”…todd?“ she squeaked. 

  "She’s back. Let 'er up.” He sat back onto her thighs. He gave her some water. “Wash yo’ mouth out. Spit inna bucket." 

  Across the room, Logan was panting out, "Kid’s a… goddamn… bottle covey… Hot *damn*!" 

  "That’s nice, Logan,” said Ororo, “but I need to stitch this…" 

  Sara swished, gargled and spat. "Wha’ happ'n’d?" 

  "You went fuckin’ *NUTS*,” entheused Ray. “Laid him out an’ kept goin’ fit t’ *kill* 'im! Coolest goddamn thing I ever laid my eyes on." 

  ”*Ray*!“ Jubillation swatted his arm. "Don’t encourage it." 

  "Bottle covey?” said Sara. 

  “Hol’ still…” Todd daubed at a stinging pain near her eye, and added butterfly sutures. 

  “Logan told me, once,” said Scott. “They’re always the quiet ones. So cool they wouldn’t melt butter. And then someone says something at the wrong time and… they don’t stop until they’re down." 

  "What’d he *say*?” said Kitty. 

  “He told me to picture an enemy,” Sara quavered. 

  “And?" 

  "James. Cameron. "Piggy”. Stiye,“ Sara panted. Even his name bought a curl to her lips. 

  "Okay…” Jean drawled. “That explains the battle cry…" 

  "I had a battle cry?" 

  "Does the phrase, 'shit-flinging monkey bastard’ ring any bells?” said Ray. 

  Jubillation swatted him again. “*Ra-ay*…" 

  ”…oh *criminy*…“ whimpered Sara. 

  "And you went *bright* yellow an’ black an’ blood red,” said Jamie. “And it went in *waves*! It was *cool*!" 

  ”*Jamie*…“ scolded Rahne. 

  "You scared th’ crap outta me, sweetheart,” murmured Todd. “The *look* you got on yo’ face…" 

  ”…much raw, untrained *potential*,“ Logan was babbling. "Girl’s gonna be a killer." 

  "Hold. *Still*,” insisted Ororo. “*NOW* you can try to get up." 

  Logan’s face was a livid mess of bruises, swelling and an amazing number of cuts. And yet, he was grinning ear to ear. "You an’ me, Tallwater. Ev'ry afternoon. I’m gonna teach you how ta *use* that." 

  "Congrats,” said Sam. “You’re now his new chew-toy." 

  Todd let Sara up and helped her stand. 

  ”…i think i need t’ go to the bathroom…“ Sara quavered. 

  "But one thing first,” Logan got right up to her. 

  She cringed. Blended. 

  He clapped his hand on her shoulder. “I’m buyin’ ya *ice cream*!" 

  And *that* was when she fainted. 

~~

  "Are you *sure* yo’ okay, sweetums?” Todd pleaded. It had been a terrifying thing to see her that far gone in rage that Logan’s claws just failed to register for her. He’d never forget the sight of them fighting to drive one of those talons into the other. And Sara. Thin, young, and untrained… beating him by degrees and bloody-minded determination. 

  “I just fainted, dear,” Sara assured. Even with the holo on, her wounds were visible. Highly visible in the case of the bruises. They’d be completely gone by the next day, but… The sight of her livid with injuries was - *disturbing*. “I was expecting heavy retribution. Or punishment. I never thought I’d be *praised* for hitting a teacher…" 

  "Logan’s his own rules, yo,” Todd theorized. “Beat him to a pulp an’ he buys you ice cream. Touch his *bike* an’ he lops yo’ arm off." 

  Logan, driving the car, snorted. He only had a few fading bruises and some cuts to show that he’d been in a fight. "Remin’ me why yer along, Treefrog?" 

  "In case you make 'er faint again, yo,” Todd said. 

  Sara leaned across to kiss him. “Sweet, brave, *noble* Sir Leapsalot,” she cooed. 

  Todd blushed, but he leaned as far towards her as he could and kissed her back. Aaaahhh… *now* he felt a bit better. 

  “Keep to yer own sides, you two." 

  "Rats,” sighed Sara. 

  “Yeah,” sighed Todd. “I bought the Troll money over. Din’t know what else t’ do with it an’ Pie’d steal it, yo." 

  "Oh, *good*. I was running low on the chemicals this morning. How much have we got?" 

  "Nearly two grand,” he whispered. “*Day*umn, yo…" 

  "Impressive, considering so many orders were for the unfinished trolls,” Sara grinned. “Taking off the amount we need for chemicals… labor costs… Do you mind working for minimum wage, dear?" 

  "Yo, for this cause, I’m a *volunteer*." 

  "Oh *good*. I won’t deduct you your rigging. That was pre-manufacture. So all we deduct is the replacement materials…” Sara leaned back, looking up. Her lips moved. “Excellent. We should have quite the sum to donate on Monday. I finally get to sue that stuck-up little monkey…" 

  "Don’t lose yer fire, Tallwater,” said Logan. 

  “You can relax, Logan. I still want to give him a vasectomy by knee." 

  Logan laughed. 

  Todd whimpered. _Do *not* cross this woman,_ he thought. But then again, he didn’t have any plans to do so. Why the hell was *he* worried. He *liked* her. She liked him. As long as they were honest with each other, they had nothing to worry about. "Yo. Sugarlips? Um. I don’ wanna sound rude or nuthin’, but… Did you always have this vicious streak?" 

  "Somewhat buried, yes,” said Sara. “I just don’t box it any more. Don’t fret, darling. I know where to draw the line. Most of it’s solely up here,” she tapped her head, “and will rarely express itself *here*,” Sara made a fist, then relaxed it in order to hold his hand. Her smile was gentle and reassuring. “I *will* learn to control the rage, dear. Make it work *for* me. This morning… it took over. It won’t be taking over for much longer." 

  Which meant less and less time that the savage Sara would be 'out’. No. That was wrong. She didn’t have a multiple personality disorder. This was just - a side of her. One of her facets. 

  _Why, O *why* do I keep fallin’ for the dangerous ones?_ Todd pondered. Maybe because he’d seen too much of what his Dad did to his Mom, and wanted to be absolutely certain it would never happen again. Not that he’d ever felt that sort of belly-burning rage that had fired Sara’s demolition demo that morning… but he wanted it to be possible for any woman in his life to defend themselves, should he fall into the bottle like Dad. 

  "Deep thoughts?” said Sara. They’d parked and got out and he hadn’t noticed. She’d had to shake him out of his musings. 

  “Pretty much, yo.” He clambered out of the car and followed them into the mall. 

  “Do you need a patient ear?" 

  "It ain’t pretty stuff." 

  "What a co-incidence. My ears aren’t pretty either." 

  Something snapped. It wasn’t the rage, but some anger at the people who’d ground her down and made her say things like that. "Damn it. *STOP* that!” He froze. People were staring at them. Drawing their own conclusions from Sara’s bruises and his shouting. “Stop *saying* things like that, *please*,” he begged. “It ain’t *you*. It ain’t what you *are*. Yo'r cuttin’ yourself t’ pieces an’…” His eyes stung. “…damnit…" 

  Sara held him, guided him to a little table and kissed him. "I’m sorry,” she whispered. “Years of conditioning." 

  "I know… I know… It’s just– You can’t even see who you really are, no more… and you just echo what people say about yo’, an’ you’re hurtin’ yourself more an’ more…” He borrowed some napkins and mopped his face. “Me, I *know* where I been hurt. Some o’ my injuries are in here,” he tapped his head. “Most of 'em… well. You saw the scans.” Todd rubbed the cast, trying to scratch an itch he couldn’t reach. “You? You’re like… the opposite. You’re scarred as hell up there,” feather light, he touched her brow. “An’ just 'bout every time you open yo’ mouth, you cut yourself again. *THAT* is the only ugly goin’ on wit’ you. Swear on my soul, yo." 

  Sara pondered this. "I bought my Dragons with me,” she murmured. “I shattered and put myself back together and the Dragons are still there…" 

  "Can’t defeat 'em all at once,” said Logan. “Gotta wear 'em down. Slow goin’, that. An’ painful." 

  They stared at him. 

  "We gettin’ this ice cream or what?" 

  "That’s our line,” said Sara. She retrieved a pair of rubber bands from her voluminous purse and put one on each wrist. “Negative conditioning time, gentlemen. Every time I make a self-depreciatory remark… snap me." 

  "Izzat gonna work?" 

  "I broke myself of thumb-sucking this way. And nail-biting. Pen-chewing, alas, seems to be permanent." 

  That mental image boggled his mind until they’d reached the multi-coloured bins at the ice-cream parlour.

~