Chapter 16: Time is of the essence
Author's Note: this chapters done… I think… I like my foreshadowing. Take a guess at what it is.
I've enjoyed this chapter greatly, and found out more about myself. Good for me… Okay I'm done
Laen: possibly next chapter I'll explain.
Godsowndevil: no, I'll tell you later, later again,
No88Zero: thanks again, I hope you enjoy this chapter
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The rain fell outside of the Blackbird, the pitter-patter of it barely registering in anyone else's minds. Logan stared out the window, watching the world fly by. Despite the queasiness he'd get, there was nothing like flying. It was almost as if it was meant for him. As if it was a lost memory buried deep within his mind. As If something was pulling from the depths of spirit, begging to be released. His thoughts were disturbed by the argument in the cockpit. "I still don't see why you're upset," a childish man said. Bobby will never understand, Logan thought as he lit a match on the seat in front of him for his cigar. His thoughts turned outward despite the inward conflict.
"She has a right to now, Robert," Warren Worthington III said, a rich kid with a pure heart. Logan chuckled to hear Angel stand up for the one person who pissed him off just a little less than Bobby. And the man used the kid's middle name. "He needs her more than ever." Warren smiled at his girlfriend of six months, Paige Gunthrie. A blush must have passed over her face as Bobby fake-gagged in his seat.
"He left her," Bobby replied. "He gave up his right to be with her."
"Bullshit, Bobby and you know it." God bless Paige and her beautiful mouth. Logan took a long drag of his cigar, still thinking of the rain. Small thoughts of the past had come back to him, especially with Jean returning, but he promised himself he'd stay off that topic for a while. She needed her space before they could go back to their playful banter. She needed time to fix things with that boyfriend of her's, or ex in this case. Jeannie just needed time to herself now, and Logan was willing to give it to her. "She would want to be by his side no matter what."
"It doesn't matter what she wants," Bobby said. It was then Logan decided to enter the conversation.
"His life matters on what she wants," Logan faced the much younger kid, who was just as petty and jealous as always. "For she wants him and will always want him." Holding up his right hand, three metal claws came from his knuckles. Snikt. "And I will protect that."
When Roland had come to the mansion eight years ago, he was broken, a former shell of himself. The loss of his family pushed him close to the edge and had it not been for Professor Xavier, the worst could have come. Ororo was asked to help him moving on, but clearly he lacked the will to do so. At least, until a Doctor Steven Strange showed up.
Two years traveling, learning the world through his eyes, but Roland always came back. Back to the mansion. Back to his friends. He treated Logan like a father, asking him to teach the boy how to fight and how to win. The first year Roland didn't stand a chance, but the second, Logan spent most of his days healing. There were still issues, but fighting was no longer a problem. Then for the next five years, Roland entered the real world, or something like it.
He went to a school, where his life began again. Roland found a few friends, but no one like the ones he had at the mansion, who were even fewer in numbers. He was a loner, more so than Kurt, more so than Ororo, more so than Logan. What he did with his time, Logan had no idea, and the boy couldn't read before he went to school. The crash too that gift away from him.
Something changed him that year, when he turned sixteen. If anything, the world was darker just around him, yet everything else was brighter than ever. It reminded Logan of someone, a child with green eyes and pitch black hair. A babe who was destined to be great and be loved, despite the pain and trials he must go through.
Logan shook his head. Trying to think too far into the past gave him head aches. His thoughts returned to more recent years. Four years ago, Roland brought back to the mansion a friend, a mutant like him. She was special, something that everyone in the Mansion knew. Her wings and soft brown hair made her look even more angelic than Warren, a feat not accomplished lightly. And to Roland, she finally brought happiness.
But that happiness was destroyed in less than six months. Less than a year ago, Roland and she disappeared. About seven months ago, Jean returned somehow. And of course, she found out about Scott and Emma, which broke her heart. Logan tried to comfort her the best he could, but it didn't help that two of his friends were missing. Yet somehow, him and Jean got through it, knowing that their relationship had changed. Jeannie had changed when she came back; somehow, she was more familiar. If possible, her eyes were greener. And Logan fell in love with her again.
The head ache returned, and Logan went back to watching the rain fall. Six months ago, they found them. In an old S.H.I.E.L.D. building in the middle of Chicago. Logan suspected that it ran for miles below it. While rescuing other mutants there, the power went out and the captive guards went crazy. The main reason for the building was to house two demons they found. In the end, they found Roland, and he found her. The guards didn't leave the building alive, or in piece.
The rest of the trip was silent. Kurt was praying the back, trying to ignore what was going to come. Warren was holding Paige, but remained silent, thinking about what was to come. Bobby was brooding about something; Logan figured that it was over the girl. He was trying to get her attention while Roland was gone, but held nothing over. He apparently believed that he had a chance with her. Now, he refused to follow an order off of that illusion. That would cause trouble for them, and Logan didn't need any more trouble with this mission.
"ETA is five minutes, X-men," Warren said. He gave a meaningful glare to everyone on the blackbird, but Logan was the only one who didn't look his leader in the eye. Now was not the time for pity nor sorrow, something was going down that needed man to step aside and the animal to take over.
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Harry couldn't believe what was standing in front of him. Roland had died but a few minutes ago and now he was standing up, holding a sword none the less. Harry couldn't feel his left hand, and Hermione kept on saying that she couldn't feel her legs. Something was not right, and Harry knew it. His entire body ached with a feeling of dread and uncertainty. "You're too late." The Demon shouted. "They're on their way here." The Demon swaggered a bit, unsure of how to stand. It was tired and weak apparently, but its job was done.
"Roland!" Harry yelled over the rain. "We need to get Ron out of that thing." Roland nodded, but didn't even look at Harry. He didn't speak and his red/yellow eyes just glared at the Demon.
"I , Roland De'Moas, Al'Takas of the MorningStar clan, hereby claim my right to face you in mortal battle." Roland spoke with such conviction. "You have harmed my friend, but more importantly you have harmed Life. For that I challenge you." Roland bowed to the Demon, and when he looked up, he smiled.
Before Harry had a chance to blink, Roland moved and was on top of the Demon, throwing punches. The beast screamed in pain, and it was then were the Death Eaters showed up. Harry heard someone scream the spell for the death mark and watched in horror as it appeared in the falling sky.
Hermione looked up and despite the frightened look upon her face, focused and tried to place a strong front on. Harry pulled her up in his lap, holding her close to protect her. He felt the power that was in him grew stronger, as his connection to the earth grew. He felt his power that was given to him increase, as his mind connected with his soul mate. As much as he was an Earth Elemental, Harry was a guardian before hand, a guardian to his love and the life that they would live. It was for that reason why Roland wasn't worried about them for a single moment.
Someone was walking up behind him, the footsteps echoing in Harry's mind. "What do we have here?" the Death Eater said. Harry knew that he was smirking, but didn't bother turning around. "The Potter boy and his little Mudslut." He laughed, but Harry still didn't move. He just stared forward, waiting. Waiting for the beast with in him to come out and protect them. Waiting for the lion heart that burned deep within his soul to explode and protect them. "The master will be pleased to see you dead." Harry heard the man's robbed arm raise and draw his weapon. It was then did he choose to strike.
A swift back hand and Harry tore through the man's stomach. His rock hard skin was gone, but the beast within him was released and Harry could do what he needed to do. The sound of shots being fired made him turn his attention to the fight that was being held. Roland was thrown backward about twenty meters, and landing hard against the ground. Three death eaters had chosen then to help the Demon. "Kill them!" the Demon shouted, the three looked at Harry before smiling and charging. Harry stood up the best he could, holding Hermione close, but this time, it was she who protected him
She pointed her hand at them, and as if she held a wand, three lightning bolts appeared, and striking directly upon their chests. The force threw the Death Eaters back to the Demon, smoking from the burnt skin and cloths. Hermione looked up at Harry and smiled. He was proud of her, always strong despite the horrors that plagued her. He returned the smile and kissed her on the top of her head. "How cute," the Demon said again. "I'll kill you both for the trouble you're causing me." Hermione raised her hand again, but nothing happened. Of course it wouldn't work twice; Fate just had to be that funny. `Good, this will be more fun." He charged them, but Roland appeared from the rubble, tackling the Demon to the ground.
"Get cover and protect yourselves," Roland said, before head butting the Demon. Its skull broke, the sound pronouncing itself over the burning wood around them. The Death Eaters must have begun to destroy the surround blocks, creating as much havoc as possible. Harry paused for a moment, standing there watching Roland fight the Demon. He took a punch in his jaw before toss the beast like a rag doll.
Hermione wrapped her arms around his neck, and if out of instinct she pulled herself up, his hands immediately holding onto her back and her legs. Harry smiled at her, knowing that they were going to be able to make it through. If it weren't for the pain in his body, Harry would have thought that it was romantic. But now was not the time for that, they needed to get away from there as soon as possible. For a brief moment he wondered what happened to Gaborn, but Roland's scream for them to run took his mind away from that thought.
Something exploded and Harry took off. A smoldering body flew past them, its wings hanging behind its body. Roland got up and ran forward, charging the Demon he was fighting. The ash of his skin fell to the ground, but Roland didn't stop; he just continued to attack. This wasn't a place where Harry wanted to be right now, especially injured and trying to protect Hermione.
Stumbling down the stairs, Harry was able to maintain control and run down the street. He saw a battalion of Death Eaters headed toward them. Hermione gasped when she saw the amount; Harry ran toward an empty building. Despite the way it looked, he felt that it was safe for them. He kicked down the door, before running through the rooms, looking for a safe place. He finally fell down next to an old hearth, one that hadn't been used in years and dust had settled all over it. There, he sat down, with Hermione in his lap.
Despite the war going on outside, Harry took the time the take in the beauty that was Hermione. She was resting on his chest, taking in slow and deep breaths. Her soft cinnamon hair cascaded around her face, wet from her sweat, the rain and her tears. Her eyes were closed, but the way her eyebrow was creased, he knew she was thinking hard about something. In a moment or two… there it is, she stick out her tongue and bite it. "What's wrong?" Harry asked, softly. Hermione shivered and Harry pulled her closer. The night was cold, and despite the fires that burned outside, the winds ate at their skin.
"I'm scared," she finally replied. Harry nodded. It was the unknown. Hermione rarely went anywhere not knowing everything about it. Now, their world was changing. To him, it was clear that they were each mutants, whose gifts were just manifesting. "We might have just lost our best friend. Regardless of what he has done, he is still our friend." Harry didn't argue, he just leaned back, resting his head. He closed his eyes, thinking of what had just occurred. "Oh Harry."
He felt a sharp sting as Hermione probably touched his forehead. "ow." His eyes opened up to a smiling girlfriend she had found a rag from somewhere and was trying to clean the wound on his forward. "Why'd you do that?"
"You got hurt," she replied. Again, she took the rag and placed it gently against his forehead. "Now don't move. I don't think you'll want another scar." Harry sighed, giving in despite the pain that came when she touched his wound. "I wish I had my wand." Hermione took his head in her hands and rested hers atop his. "I think you'll be alright, but…" Hermione kissed his forehead. "Get some sleep; you've had a long night."
"So have you, Mione," Harry whispered. He didn't want to sleep, but the world was darkening as the long night was finally taken its toll on him. Before he fell asleep his arms wrapped them around her, pulling her closer.
"Oh, Harry," Hermione spoke so softly, taken back by the sight of her boyfriend. Even now, dirty and bloody, he was adorable, especially when he slept. All the pain that had plagued him in the wakening hours, all the guilt and duty that hung on his shoulders was taken away. Nothing could hurt him, and Hermione would make sure of it.
When he confided with her after his interlude with Roland, Hermione was touched and hurt. Touched that he saw her worthy of taking some of his burden, and hurt that he had been holding it in for so long. Tears came to her eyes as she thought and imagined what the Dursleys did to him. She held her sobs in, but a lone tear escaped, falling upon the wound he had just taken. With her eyes closed Hermione could not see the cut glow white for single moment before healing completely. Had Roland been there, he could have explained what had occurred, how it was her awakening Harry's secondary mutation or her own for that matter, but neither teen cared at the moment. Each was too worried about the other, and the pain that their loved one had gone through.
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When they touched down, Logan was surprised to see the damage done. Nearly an entire block was in flames, burning for sins of man and the deaths that were calling for vengeance. Taking a deep sniff, Logan tried to locate his friend. The scent was a specific one, sulfur and brimstone, but also roses and lilac. The odd combination was enough to give him a headache, but Logan had learned to deal with it. At times, it was invigorating to smell it, especially when Roland was in a good mood, the roses and lilac took over. But right now, the sulfur and brimstone burned his nose, and he knew that something was wrong.
"Angel, I'm going to look for Fallen," he said, and took off running down the street. It wasn't a request, but rather a statement. Despite being on the team, Logan was a loner. He had no one really. It wasn't until he met Jean did he believe to have found actual love. There weren't many people who he called friends. And so when they were hurt, Logan protected them.
He continued to sniff the air, trying to find Roland through that means, but it was then when something familiar entered his nose. A smell that he had not smelt in a long time, sixteen to fifteen years. It led him away from the path to Roland, but this smell was something more, something from his past. Green eyes flashed in his eyes when Logan first got a whiff of it. He took off, toward an old abandon building but stopped short. A small group of men in cloaks was heading toward him.
"Well, well, well," one of them said, holding out a pointy stick. Logan recognized it, or he thought he did. A wand? The word had just entered in his mind; he had no idea where it had come from. But it did bring his most common action. Snikt. All his claws were extruding from his hands now, pointing down ward. Logan growled, showing no fear despite the lack of knowledge of the weapon he was facing. He dove at them, but a beam came from the stick and threw him back. "A dog really. One that should be killed." The man stepped closer, until he was right over Logan.
He was dazed for only a moment and was able to catch the sight of the man raising his weapon at his body. As if out of reflex, Logan swung his hand, slicing the man's stick into little pieces, along with a few fingers. The man screamed in agony, holding his hand close to his chest. Logan didn't take the time to enjoy what he just did, nor could he. He had to move fast enough to avoid whatever else the remaining men were firing at him. Something hit his left shoulder, but wasn't able to pass through the bones that were grafted into his body less than sixteen years ago.
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When Harry heard the curses being fired, he awoke. A bestial cry came from outside, a cry of pain and agony. He tried to get up, but Hermione remained firmly locked onto him. "Hermione," Harry spoke softly, right into her ear. "Please there is someone who needs my help." The cry came again, one that was familiar as if from a dream of a long time ago. Sixteen years. Three men cried in pain before there was silence, and Harry heard the haggard breathing of something. Hermione did not move from his lap, nor did she truly want to. There she was safe, and at least under the illusion that was safe as well. But Harry knew better.
He focused as hard as he could, thinking of Hermione and his will to protect her. His skin hardened, turned black for a moment before his body turned translucent. The sound of stone upon stone, mineral upon mineral, woke Hermione up from her peaceful dream land, and when she looked at Harry she smiled. "Diamonds are forever," resting her head upon his shoulder.
It was true, for Harry's skin was now diamond, reflecting the limited light as well as refracting it, bending it away from his body. Harry stood up slowly, trying to adjust to his new body. Hermione giggled, and Harry stopped. "What?"
"You're so adorable," she finally said out loud. After thinking it for so long, she had to say it. His hair was longer now, thanks to the lion transformation before. It was still a bit messy, but hung back from the sweat, the tears, and blood. His eyes, now no longer hidden by the glasses, stood out strong and beautiful. But she missed his glasses, to her; they were what made Harry, well, Harry. It wasn't the scar, it wasn't the fame. It was his simple black thick glasses. Hermione touched his face gently. "I miss your glasses." She gave him a forlorn smiled, thinking of him before all of this happened.
"I missed your smile." Harry replied. He was lost in the moment, looking into her soft cinnamon eyes. "You okay?" she nodded. "Still can't feel your legs?" Hermione shook her head; Harry pulled her close, allowing her place all her weight on him. "I'll take care of you." He began to walk, limping a bit with Hermione on one side, but continued on. He wished he had his wand, so that way he could have some illusion of being able to protect themselves from afar. Suddenly, a stick came flying through the air, landing in his hand. The touch of the wood was so familiar. "My wand?" the surprise in his voice was evident, as Hermione was staring at it as well.
"Hold it," a man came running after it. Six claws had come out of his knuckles, three on each hand. "I don't want trouble, bub." The man seemed so familiar to Harry. It was the blue eyes that stared at him that reminded Harry of someone, but he couldn't place a finger on it.
"Neither do we," Harry replied, pointing his wand at the man. He was covered in blood, along with many burn marks and a long cut on his left shoulder, but it didn't seem to slow him down. "We just want to go somewhere safe."
"Fine, follow me," the man turned around and left the room. Harry gave Hermione a look. She shrugged and he picked her up, and ran after the man. "I can take you to the Blackbird, then to the X-Mansion. There is possible the safest place for a mutant." Harry didn't pause this time when the man called them mutants. After today, he was happy that there was somewhere he could be safe, even if for a fleeting moment. From there, he could call Dumbledore to get them to a safehouse until they could return to Hogwarts.
"That's fine," Hermione said for Harry. "Wait!" Harry paused and looked at the sweet girl in his arms. "What about Roland?" The man stopped and looked at them.
"You know, Roland?" Hermione nodded. "Where'd you last see him?" Hermione pointed at the burning church. "Of course he's in the middle of it all." An explosion came from the remains, but no one moved. "Take yourselves to the jet." The urgency in his voice made Harry's breathe hitch within his throat. The man pointed at a black mound about thirty meters away. "Don't follow me." The man ran off, jumping over the rubble.
"Harry," Hermione pulled Harry's face to look into his eyes. "For once do as an adult says." He smirked at this, and blushed slightly. "You are in no condition to help." Her voice was firm, but kind. Almost a classic McGonagall.
"Yes ma'am," Harry kissed her lightly before walking toward the black mound.
"That's right," Hermione replied, giggling after a few moments of her high and mighty act. Harry laughed along with her. "Now, lead me to safety my prince."
"Yes, milady." She rested her head on his shoulder. So much had happened. Hermione thought back to the man they had just met. He seemed so familiar. Not like a person she had met, but someone she had seen. Someone from a picture maybe or something. Hermione couldn't place her finger on it. The eyes held so much pain, as if he had lost something very near and dear to his heart. There was this emptiness that she saw when ever he looked at them.
Within a few minutes, they had made it to what the man had called a jet. The black hull seemed to meld with the night, hiding it from many prying eyes. "What do we do now?" Harry asked. Hermione smiled and pointed toward the haul, asking to move closer. Within arms reach, Harry stopped. Hermione simply knocked. Right next to them, a hatch opened up.
"Boys," Hermione said, shaking her head. A translucent blue man stepped out, and the air grew colder.
"Well, what do we have here," the teenaged man asked. He was immature and young, that much Harry picked up from his body language. He didn't trust the kid already.
"Iceman, knock it off," a warmer voice from inside yelled. "Husk, can you help them in, I doubt Iceman is willing." A few seconds passed before a woman walked down the ramp. Iceman had disappeared back into the jet.
"Hey," she said, walking up them. "Name's Paige Gunthrie. But Warren insists on using codenames on missions, so Husk it is." She looked oddly at Harry and Hermione, but was quickly distracted by the explosion from the church. "I think the rest of introductions can be done later. Right now, we need to get ready to leave."
She ushered them inside, giving them seats in the cock pit. Harry helped Hermione in her seat, earning a small kiss on his cheek. He took his seat next to her, and then took her hand, holding it and giving her hope. His thumb lightly massaged the back of her hand, sending shivers down her spine. But Hermione didn't complain. His touch made her feel wanted and loved.
Harry took in his surrounds, studying the people and things around him. He already figured out the quickest route out of the jet, along with ways to remove the seat belts. He was also studying people. The man who yelled at Iceman had white wings on his back, and despite the bulk of them, he was the one who would be flying the jet. Iceman was seated as far as possible from the angel, sulking about something. Husk was with the angel, animatedly talking about something, though they were whispering. Finally there was some real noise. The man whom they had met before's voice came over the radio. "Get the damn bird ready to fly, I got him."
The angel snapped to action, and began pressing buttons and pulling levels. Husk unfastened her seat belt, and walked down to the hatch only to be nearly run down by the man before. Harry turned to look and what he saw surprised him.
Collapsing to the ground, the man rolled over, lying on his stomach, reveling many cuts and wounds to his back, some burn marks, other cuts that had to be down to the bone. but the blood was limited. Husk didn't attend the man either, taking straight to Roland. "why?" Hermione asked, but Harry quickly quieted her. Right now was not the time to be seen nor heard.
"All explain later," he replied, taking her in his arms. Harry looked away, knowing that their friend lied in worse condition, given the new pool of blood that had formed underneath him in such a short time. The other man had begun to heal his wounds; possible due to his mutation, but right now, it was Roland who needed help the most.
"Angel, we need to get him to her fast," Husk yelled from the back. "I can't heal him with what he left us." immediately the jet shook as it rose in the air. It was then Harry remembered something.
"Wait what of Ron?" he asked loudly, in a gravelly voice. He was tired, but he needed to know.
"Safe," Roland's voice came from the back, weak and tired, but the air carried it nonetheless. "He's safe and will be released when we get back home." Something thumped behind them, and Harry could only assume that Roland had just used whatever power he had left.
"Just go damn it," the man had gotten up and taken a seat in the co-pilot seat. He pressed a button and closed the hatch. "We need to leave before those people continue to pop up." His face was lready recognizable, despite a few of the deep gashes.
"What color robes were they wearing?" Hermione asked.
"Red, why?" the man replied, pulling out a cigar and lighting it.
Hermione didn't respond. "Aurors, he was attacking Aurors, Harry," she whispered softly into her boyfriend's ear. He just nodded. "Harry, he killed-"
"Of course I killed them," the man said, "they were attacking me with their sticks that fired this green light." Hermione gasped and Harry stopped breathing. The Ministry was attacking a mutant with the Killing Curse. It was hard to think that their own government would sanction the killing of people. "But I think Roland took out more that I did." the man was smirking as he took another puff of his cigar.
Husk walked past them, taking a seat behind the Angel. "Any way we can go faster?" she spoke softly, trying not to allow them to hear. But Harry caught ever word. His senses were over developed, something he figured came from his mutation. "Roland isn't going to make it if we don't hurry." The angel nodded, but the other man didn't seem worried. He just stared forward.
"Give him a kick," the man said, "that'll wake him up." Husk gasped at his comment, but the angel didn't move.
"I'll speed up as much as this ship can handle, but…" the angel trailed off. Harry got the message. It seemed unlikely that Roland was going to survive.
"This would have never happened if she was told," Husk said loudly, glaring at Iceman.
"It not my fault," he said, placing his feet up on one of the seats. Husk immediately hit them down. "Hey?!"
"Yes it is," she replied, willing to pick a fight with the teenager. "You were the one who decided that you wanted to tell her where we were going, which you failed to do. If she was here, she could heal him." Paige's voice bounced along the walls of Harry's mind, reminding him of his own responsibilities. Hermione was curled up next to him, holding his arm as a child would hold a teddy bear, or a comfort blanket. With his other hand, he gently pet her forehead covered in her bands. She pulled him closer, yet held a smile on her face, knowing that he was there. She was his responsibility now, and Harry would take care of her; he would protect her through any means necessary. His life would end before a single hair was every harmed on her head,
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