Eloi
folder
X-Men - Animated Series (all) › Slash - Male/Male
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
62
Views:
5,337
Reviews:
2
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
X-Men - Animated Series (all) › Slash - Male/Male
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
62
Views:
5,337
Reviews:
2
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
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.
55
Eloi Chapter Fifty Five
Disclaimers Apply
A/N Goddess Foxfeather, Queen of Mad Plotbunnies, BUSIEST WOMAN ALIVE ™, Prophetic Muse, Hamster Witch and Uberbeta… No box yet? InterNutter, TC, Maxwell Pink, Dracena and Greywolf are loverly and wondermous for archiving/hosting! :) ProPhile: So…. Yep…. Morgan: Hola? Readers/Reviewers: First of all, belated congrats to Doctor Nightfall! *glomp * And secondly, thank y’all SO much for reading/reviewing as you can!
Mark was silent as Logan swung the car at a potentially dangerous speed onto the turnpike. “Logan, I’m aware that you seem to heal quickly and are well nigh indestructible but some among us are not. Please don’t test my mortality.”
Logan did not reply but he did ease off the accelerator a bit. “Get that, would you?” he asked, more of a command than a question, as the cell phone on the seat between them began to ring. He only half listened as Mark spoke with the person on the other line—Logan could barely make out that it was a male. _The Professor, _ he guessed. _He’s the only one not doing the flight of the bumblebee1 around town at the ass crack of dawn… _ “What’d Chuckles want?” he asked as Mark shut the phone with a flick of his wrist, the clicking noise loud in the otherwise quiet car.
“Wanda has returned with Rogue and Todd… and she’s been ill all over the front hallway,” he added as if it were important to the conversation. “Professor Xavier says that your leather jacket will be cleaned by Monday.”
The Canadian sighed. “I love that jacket.”
“Friendly fire,” Mark said simply, looking out the window at the town whipping by. “Logan, about earlier…”
“Don’t ask, don’t tell,” the other man cut him off. “That policy applies to many things in life.”
Mark held his tongue for several moments, marshalling the words he wanted to say into neat order so that he did not appear to be panicking or babbling. “I know you’ve guessed I’m not exactly a librarian… Not in the traditional sense.”
“Look,” Logan sighed, taking a curved exit ramp at a disturbing speed, “I don’t want to know. The less I know about you right now, the better, got it?” He slid a sideways glance at Mark and added, “It means less trouble for you.”
The Englishman frowned but did not say anything. Instead, he picked idly at the seam on the knee of his borrowed uniform. “This Sean person,” he said after a few moments of dark silence, “he’s a former police officer, intelligence you said. What branch?”
“How should I know?” Logan lied. “Look, Mark, we’ve got more important things to worry about right now than making sure you super secret identity is safe, understand?”
“Perfectly,” he replied smoothly. “But I’m afraid you aren’t understanding my concern.” He let the matter drop, the silence between them stretching and bending into something uncomfortable. Logan did not look at him as they drove and Mark, keenly aware of the other man’s studied inattention, let several ideas turn over in his mind. _One, Logan knows exactly what I did before I became a librarian. Two, he doesn’t know and he doesn’t care. Three, he’s only pretending not to care because he does know and it’s important to him and this will be Finland all over again. _ He sighed and settled back in his seat, the uniform pulling uncomfortably as he did so. “When we get back, I want to put in a request for more sensible uniforms.”
“You don’t have to worry about that,” Logan replied cryptically. “Here we are. Sean said he’d meet us near here.” He turned down a narrow dirt track, just outside the purview of the city lights, and shut off the engine. “This is property of Xaiver Institute,” he said, opening the car door. “It’s protected, like the Institute is.”
Mark nodded, sliding out of his side of the car and shutting the door quietly. “He seems to own quite a few important bits of property around these parts.”
“The man’s prepared for all contingencies,” Logan replied tartly, feeling moved to defend Xavier against any slight, real or imagined. “Wanda…isn’t hurt, is she?” he asked suddenly, his eyes finding Mark’s in the dark of the thin woods.
“The Professor did not say, unfortunately. Beast was trying to get Cecilia on the land line and apparently there is some trouble there. She’s not shown up and they need her…” Mark paused, glancing towards the main road in the dark. “Sean is late, isn’t he?”
Logan nodded. “Something like that.” He could smell something wrong on the breeze, something like human flesh and sweat but tinged with chemicals. There was a strong, familiar base to the scent but it was so jumbled up with other things that Logan could not place it instantly. “You aren’t armed,” he murmured, more of a statement than a query.
“Au contraire,” Mark replied, just as softly, patting something at his side. “I’m always armed.”
Logan smirked in the dark. “Be glad the kids aren’t here. There’s so much innuendo in that statement that I don’t even wanna think about it.” He padded away from the car, his heavy, booted tread surprisingly silent in the thick underbrush.
Mark stood still, listening. He could feel something in the air around him, his senses screaming alarm. They were not alone. And he had a very strong notion it was not the Irishman out there in the woods. Dawn was tinging the sky a very dark purple, almost indistinguishable from the black of night a few hours before. Mark’s eyes adjusted to the slowly growing light and he frowned. He felt trapped, despite all the open space around him.
“Hello?”
Mark’s fingers curled around the hilt of short sword at his side, held close to his thigh. It was not the optimal stance for defense but he did not want to give away his plan so early in the game. “Over here.” The voice that had called to him had an Irish accent, but he did not want to assume it was Sean. “North of you,” Mark added helpfully.
Logan and Sean trotted out of the woods, Logan’s face a mask of bland interest, Sean’s slightly ruddy as if he had been out of breath recently. “Sorry…got a bit lost.”
Mark saw the sharp look cross Logan’s expression at Sean’s words. “Well,” the librarian said carefully, his fingers relaxing only a fraction on the hilt, “it happens. Are we to follow you or are you riding with us?”
“Oh, I’ll ride with you. It’ll be easier that way.”
Logan nodded curtly. “Right,” he said. “Time’s wasting. You can fill us in on the way.”
Mark stood back to let Sean into the car and he frowned more deeply. The man moved oddly, like he was uncertain of where to put his limbs, how to move his body. _Not the movements of a trained police and intelligence officer, _ he thought uneasily. He slid into the backseat of the car and caught Logan’s gaze in the rearview mirror. “Here we go,” he said with false blitheness.
Logan simply nodded. “Yeah. Here goes nothin’.”
1 http://www.8notes.com/scores/2859.asp
Disclaimers Apply
A/N Goddess Foxfeather, Queen of Mad Plotbunnies, BUSIEST WOMAN ALIVE ™, Prophetic Muse, Hamster Witch and Uberbeta… No box yet? InterNutter, TC, Maxwell Pink, Dracena and Greywolf are loverly and wondermous for archiving/hosting! :) ProPhile: So…. Yep…. Morgan: Hola? Readers/Reviewers: First of all, belated congrats to Doctor Nightfall! *glomp * And secondly, thank y’all SO much for reading/reviewing as you can!
Mark was silent as Logan swung the car at a potentially dangerous speed onto the turnpike. “Logan, I’m aware that you seem to heal quickly and are well nigh indestructible but some among us are not. Please don’t test my mortality.”
Logan did not reply but he did ease off the accelerator a bit. “Get that, would you?” he asked, more of a command than a question, as the cell phone on the seat between them began to ring. He only half listened as Mark spoke with the person on the other line—Logan could barely make out that it was a male. _The Professor, _ he guessed. _He’s the only one not doing the flight of the bumblebee1 around town at the ass crack of dawn… _ “What’d Chuckles want?” he asked as Mark shut the phone with a flick of his wrist, the clicking noise loud in the otherwise quiet car.
“Wanda has returned with Rogue and Todd… and she’s been ill all over the front hallway,” he added as if it were important to the conversation. “Professor Xavier says that your leather jacket will be cleaned by Monday.”
The Canadian sighed. “I love that jacket.”
“Friendly fire,” Mark said simply, looking out the window at the town whipping by. “Logan, about earlier…”
“Don’t ask, don’t tell,” the other man cut him off. “That policy applies to many things in life.”
Mark held his tongue for several moments, marshalling the words he wanted to say into neat order so that he did not appear to be panicking or babbling. “I know you’ve guessed I’m not exactly a librarian… Not in the traditional sense.”
“Look,” Logan sighed, taking a curved exit ramp at a disturbing speed, “I don’t want to know. The less I know about you right now, the better, got it?” He slid a sideways glance at Mark and added, “It means less trouble for you.”
The Englishman frowned but did not say anything. Instead, he picked idly at the seam on the knee of his borrowed uniform. “This Sean person,” he said after a few moments of dark silence, “he’s a former police officer, intelligence you said. What branch?”
“How should I know?” Logan lied. “Look, Mark, we’ve got more important things to worry about right now than making sure you super secret identity is safe, understand?”
“Perfectly,” he replied smoothly. “But I’m afraid you aren’t understanding my concern.” He let the matter drop, the silence between them stretching and bending into something uncomfortable. Logan did not look at him as they drove and Mark, keenly aware of the other man’s studied inattention, let several ideas turn over in his mind. _One, Logan knows exactly what I did before I became a librarian. Two, he doesn’t know and he doesn’t care. Three, he’s only pretending not to care because he does know and it’s important to him and this will be Finland all over again. _ He sighed and settled back in his seat, the uniform pulling uncomfortably as he did so. “When we get back, I want to put in a request for more sensible uniforms.”
“You don’t have to worry about that,” Logan replied cryptically. “Here we are. Sean said he’d meet us near here.” He turned down a narrow dirt track, just outside the purview of the city lights, and shut off the engine. “This is property of Xaiver Institute,” he said, opening the car door. “It’s protected, like the Institute is.”
Mark nodded, sliding out of his side of the car and shutting the door quietly. “He seems to own quite a few important bits of property around these parts.”
“The man’s prepared for all contingencies,” Logan replied tartly, feeling moved to defend Xavier against any slight, real or imagined. “Wanda…isn’t hurt, is she?” he asked suddenly, his eyes finding Mark’s in the dark of the thin woods.
“The Professor did not say, unfortunately. Beast was trying to get Cecilia on the land line and apparently there is some trouble there. She’s not shown up and they need her…” Mark paused, glancing towards the main road in the dark. “Sean is late, isn’t he?”
Logan nodded. “Something like that.” He could smell something wrong on the breeze, something like human flesh and sweat but tinged with chemicals. There was a strong, familiar base to the scent but it was so jumbled up with other things that Logan could not place it instantly. “You aren’t armed,” he murmured, more of a statement than a query.
“Au contraire,” Mark replied, just as softly, patting something at his side. “I’m always armed.”
Logan smirked in the dark. “Be glad the kids aren’t here. There’s so much innuendo in that statement that I don’t even wanna think about it.” He padded away from the car, his heavy, booted tread surprisingly silent in the thick underbrush.
Mark stood still, listening. He could feel something in the air around him, his senses screaming alarm. They were not alone. And he had a very strong notion it was not the Irishman out there in the woods. Dawn was tinging the sky a very dark purple, almost indistinguishable from the black of night a few hours before. Mark’s eyes adjusted to the slowly growing light and he frowned. He felt trapped, despite all the open space around him.
“Hello?”
Mark’s fingers curled around the hilt of short sword at his side, held close to his thigh. It was not the optimal stance for defense but he did not want to give away his plan so early in the game. “Over here.” The voice that had called to him had an Irish accent, but he did not want to assume it was Sean. “North of you,” Mark added helpfully.
Logan and Sean trotted out of the woods, Logan’s face a mask of bland interest, Sean’s slightly ruddy as if he had been out of breath recently. “Sorry…got a bit lost.”
Mark saw the sharp look cross Logan’s expression at Sean’s words. “Well,” the librarian said carefully, his fingers relaxing only a fraction on the hilt, “it happens. Are we to follow you or are you riding with us?”
“Oh, I’ll ride with you. It’ll be easier that way.”
Logan nodded curtly. “Right,” he said. “Time’s wasting. You can fill us in on the way.”
Mark stood back to let Sean into the car and he frowned more deeply. The man moved oddly, like he was uncertain of where to put his limbs, how to move his body. _Not the movements of a trained police and intelligence officer, _ he thought uneasily. He slid into the backseat of the car and caught Logan’s gaze in the rearview mirror. “Here we go,” he said with false blitheness.
Logan simply nodded. “Yeah. Here goes nothin’.”
1 http://www.8notes.com/scores/2859.asp