Subject: [OTL]: (X-Men, Rachel Summers) Memory
Date: Tue, 26 Dec 2000 19:35:18 -0800
From: Saille <rsaille@yahoo.com>


Hi all, I know I'm new here but I just had to jump in.
This is a possible story of Rachel Summers life as a
hound in the Days of Future Past timeline. She had so
many conflicting memories for so long who's to say
what happened. It's PG I suppose.
Feedback please.

Disclaimer: Marvel owns the X-Men. I just play with
them. I'm making no money from this and I have no
money to be sued for.

Memory
By Saille

I've tracked hundreds of mutants, why does this one
haunt me so?

I did as I was compelled. I topped the hill and found
him bending over a fallen blonde woman. She was dead.

*His wife.*

How do I know that? I've never known him. I didn't
read his thoughts. It's much easier if I don't, if I
only track the essence and don't touch the mind it
hurts less.

He didn't fight, surprisingly. He jumped when he heard
me, dropping into a crouch. It looked like he was
accustomed to the position. His tear-filled eyes
widened and he mouthed one word.

No.

I didn't know what he meant. I didn't care. I had done
my job. His voice had sounded funny, the word had been
thick with some accent. It tickled my mind.

*He taught you that language.*

What language? The only language I know is that of the
hunt. I called the others.  I watched him closely, but
he didn't run. He just looked at me, grief-stricken,
his head shook slowly in denial. All the fight was
gone from him. Lines fanned from the corners of his
eyes. But they were not from pain. They were laugh
lines. I knew this somehow. His hair was black and
curly, shot through with gray.

*You sat on his lap as a child. He laughed and told
you stories. You love him, he's family.*

I do not know this man! He's just another mutant!

The others topped the hill. My master took aim on the
mutant. The cornered man raised his hand as if to
block the bullet. It was an odd hand, with only three
fingers. I stared at it. The bullet took him in the
chest.

*Those hands held yours, molding yours to the hilt of
one of his swords. He taught you to fence.*

I raised my eyes to his as he fell. Our gazes locked.
He said one more word before he slid to the ground.

"Rachel."

I know that word. How did he know it? He died. I stood
over his body. His yellow eyes stared up at me. They
were empty.

Something feels broken inside. Why am I crying?

"Kurt," she whispered in the darkness.