Rachel Anne Summers is lost again (the_phoenix) wrote in valarlogs, @ 2014-02-03 13:04:00 |
|
|||
Entry tags: | !complete, rachel grey, scott summers (cyclops) |
"This is real, isn't it?"
Who: Scott Summers, Rachel Grey (Summers)
What: Rachel dreams of becoming The Hound.
When: Last Night.
Where: Their house.
Rating/Warnings: R, Warnings for glossy mentions of torture, brainwashing, and involuntary branding.
Status: Complete!
Scott had warned Rachel that her dreams would be more like Nightmares than dreams, when she started ‘dreaming’. The talk had been a quick, solemn one that followed a demonstration of what the dreams had done to him. Laser beams shooting out of his eyes. Rachel had been certain that reminded her of something, but the familiarity had vanished as quickly as it had appeared.
He was right, of course. Every dream she’d had was a Nightmare since she’d started sleeping here in Orange County. The girl in her dreams - she was still too young to be called a woman yet - had been subjected to long torture sessions before being sent off to kill her friends and loved ones. But there were gaps in the story. When had it all started? What had happened to her family before that? Rachel hadn’t been sure she wanted to know, but the Nightmares didn’t care. The one she was having at the moment was the start of it all, at least from the torture standpoint. Long hours of being drugged, mental manipulation, physical torture and brainwashing… darker things that made her stomach churn. And then there were the marks. Nothing was given to her for the pain of course - it never was - and it was the most painful thing she’d had to endure yet.
Whatever they did to put them there felt like the constant pricking of a tattoo had combined with the fire of a smoldering hot iron. The girl in the dream world could bear the pain at that point, but Rachel couldn’t. She awoke screaming in pain, nauseous from it in fact. Worse, the pain had followed her from the dreams.
She was really going to be sick. She ran for the bathroom, clawing at her face as she did so, tears rolling out of her eyes despite how she usually tried to contain them.
Scott was jerked awake by the sound of screaming, and the sudden pounding in his head. Both disappeared, but he was certain of the source. He bolted down the stairs in his boxers and knocked on the door. “Rachel? Rachel!” Anxiety clawed at his stomach.
It really hadn't been her intent to wake her dad up, but Rachel absolutely wasn't complaining. She curled up on the floor and pressed one side of her face against the cool bathroom tiles on the wall next to her. Everything about her face was still burning in pain. She felt like she'd literally been set on fire.
"I'm in here..." her voice echoed out of the bathroom. It sounded hoarse and rough. Rachel didn't even recognize it.
He pushed the door open and ran into the bathroom. He looked at her and sighed in empathy, before kneeling next to her and putting his hand on her back. He rubbed softly. “Hey. Let me see, okay?”
"My whole face feels like it's burning, dad..." Rachel moaned. Her voice was still a bit hoarse and she wondered how long she'd been screaming in her sleep before she woke up.
She turned her face to look at him, wincing a bit at the thought of what he might see. Which... she wasn't even sure what he'd see, since she'd never seen her own face in the dream world that she was aware of. There were obviously marks of some kind, but of what?
Scott studied the markings, then pulled her into his arms and hugged her. He knew those marks, knew what they represented. Maybe not as well as some other people, but well enough. “I didn’t think these would ever come through.” He was angry. So angry.
Rachel wanted to believe she was strong enough to endure something like this on her own. There had been times before where she'd been injured or sick in the places she'd been to, and she'd always sucked it up and dealt with it.
But this was different and he was here, and she buried herself in his arms like they would somehow provide her safe harbor from the storm. The tears that had sprung to her eyes before returned, and she sobbed, "This is worse than you ever warned me about!"
It was different and Scott was here, in a way that he’d never been able to do before. It broke his heart to have to be here for her like this. He’d wanted to be her father. He didn’t want to see her broken. “I didn’t know the details. I didn’t know how bad it really got. You never told me, Kitty never told me. I’m not even sure you told her everything.”
"...I wouldn't have wanted to," Rachel replied, still sniffling a bit. The things she'd witnessed in that dreaming place... How could she even talk about them to her father, let alone anyone else? Not in detail, anyway. The marks were bad enough.
The burning pain had subsided a bit, localising itself to just the area the marks were actually in. It felt more like the sensation after getting a tattoo, and Rachel realised that that's what they probably were. Tattoos of some kind. Something everyone would see, unless she figured out a way to cover them up.
Her skin especially complained where her cheek was brushing against Scott's chest, but she didn't care. She was still trying to process it all, and she needed him, "It's really bad, dad. Really bad. I don't think you want to know how bad, to be honest."
"I probably don't but I'm willing to listen if you need it. I've witnessed nearly anything you can imagine in my dreams." The Basilisk was still amongst the worse, and probably wasn't as bad as Rachel.
He had some cream that might help the irritation on her face, and pulled it out of a drawer to start applying it.
Rachel took that opportunity to get to her feet. She dusted herself off and then cautiously looked in the mirror. The marks looked like claws around the edges of her face, and were a reddish-orange color. There were angry red halos around the edges of them, and Rachel grimaced a bit as she gently poked one with her finger, "This is real, isn't it? It's not going to just go away when I wake up. All of it is real."
Scott stood as well. He couldn’t see the color, though the contrast was obvious and he’d long ago learned how to view injuries when all he could see is the color red. He leaned on the sink. “It’s real. You’re not dreaming now. And these won’t be the last marks you get.” He thought she needed to know there’d be more. And if she asked, he’d tell her exactly what.
"If I'd known I was going to end up with a bunch of extra marks I might have been more careful about those tattoos I got," Rachel griped. She didn't want to know what the other marks would be. The dreams would reveal them whenever they revealed them, and it was enough to know there'd be more.
She realised then that the marks wouldn't be the only things to carry through, and started looking her arms and legs over. Scars. She was certain she'd end up with some of those. Rachel traced a few faint ones that had appeared and took a deep breath, then let it out, "I'm not going to freak out. I'm not going to do that. You handled it and I can handle it, I can. I'm still not sorry I came here."
Scott let her try to accept what was happening. He rubbed her back in comforting circles. He was torn on telling her about the death mark. About losing her grandparents. They were still alive here, that was something. “You can handle it. You’re strong, Rachel. But you’re not alone. Don’t fool yourself into thinking you have to handle it alone.”
"I was alone, there. I felt like it anyway. I still don't know what happened to you or mom... OKay that's not true, there was this... Franklin. We were a thing, but I still felt alone, even when I was with him." Rachel wrinkled her nose a bit. The cream that Scott had applied to her marks was working, at least. The absence of pain after all of that was such a relief that it was almost dizzying.
Or maybe it was just that she was trying very hard not to hyperventilate. Her dad was here. That was something. He was here, and the physical reassurance of his presence was welcome, "I'm so glad i'm not alone here. And I think I really lucked out, because Kitty is here, too. She means a lot to me I think. Or she's meant to."
Scott nodded. "It's easy enough to feel alone, even with people. You had demons and the only person who can understand them is you. But we're still here to listen." He smiled at her, glasses glinting from the overhead light. "It feels nice, doesn't it. Having someone close to you from there. Maybe you don't remember, but that doesn't matter."
Scott was still alone in a way. No Hank or Jean, no Warren or Bobby. 'Ro was a relief, but in a lot of ways it would never be the same without the original five.
He sounded sad, even though he was still trying to be encouraging. Rachel turned around to give him a hug, sensing that he needed one just about as badly as she did, "I don't know if she's close to me from there or not but she acts like she is. And I'm sorry that you don't have someone like Mom here. I don't know if it would be better or worse to go through this with her, too."
Something told her that it would be worse, in a way. That whatever her mom would have gone through in the dream world was just as bad. Maybe it was good Jean had disappeared all those years ago. Maybe she was in a better place, wherever that was.
"Just don't leave ever and I think I can get through this. As long as you're here."
He hugged her back. Her instinct was right. "No. I'm not going to go anywhere Rachel. You have my promise on that." He'd thought about it a few times, but for his friends here and now for Rachel, he'd stay. They were important. She was important, more than ever.