━━ THE BREAK IN

THE GLASS ROOM IS COLD and bright. 

I never realized the goosebumps raised on my arms, or the way my breath clung to the air. I guess when this really happened, I wasn't focusing on the little things. Despite living this nightmare over and over again for the past month, I still haven't learned how to break free of his grip. His hands hold my body close, mouth close to my ear, metal helmet pressing up against the back of my head.

And I am lost. I am frozen, guts twisting, nausea rolling through me. I can't move, I can't fight, all I can do is let Shaw pull me into the mirrored room. That freezing, bright room. I whimper, even though I should be strong. I shake, even though I should stand my ground. The man in front of us still hasn't turned around, looking for signs of the one that has captured me again. I can't think straight, my mind tearing me apart. In the corners of this nightmare, black tendrils snake around the world, soft wisps of power clinging to the sides of my vision , as cold as ice.

It's always cold.

Shaw is whispering into my ear, but I can barely hear him over the roar of my heart. My mind screams at Erik across the way. Look at me, Look at me, Look at me! But that's the cruel irony of these nightmares. Everything is a little different. A little worse.

Erik never turns around. He never turns to see me in the clutches of Shaw and try to help. Instead, he simply walks away. Out of the submarine. Out of my life. He leaves me screaming and gasping as the doors to the mirrored room close on Shaw and me. The vile man starts to laugh, and I can feel his sick smile on the back of my head.

I thrash and scream, trying to break free, trying to escape this man with his smiles and sweet words. Honey tinted and full of menace, his aspirations swim through my head, breaking down the borders of my mind, the shadows dissipating until everything comes flooding through me. It's a tidal wave of everything I've tried to push away these last ten years, come back to break me down fully.

When the shadows swarm around us, Shaw finally lets go of me, and I fall down to my knees, screaming, only my voice is gone. It's always gone. I scream again, but the silence roars in my wake. The darkness that overtakes the room chokes me, dragging me down. I'm suddenly falling, my body heaving, weightless, as I go down down down. I don't know if there is an end. All I can do is drop, my body twisting in the air, not a single sound around me.

My body hits the tough ground with a sickening crack, my bones creaking under my flesh. Pain flashes through my mind, bright and as brilliant as fire. It licks at my flesh as I deflate, body shattering one part at a time. I can do nothing, only endure the numbing pain of dying. Death. That is what Death feels like. An unquenchable thirst for life takes over me as I slip away. A numbness that feels like everything makes it's way through my body.

My breaths become shallow, my heart slowing down. It aches, a constant pain that doesn't so much burn than smolder, like ashes are flicking their way through my bones, singing the marrow and cutting the veins. It's so much worse than the flashes, so much worse than the fire that would end as quickly as it began. This type of dying is precise, careful, and so utterly slow.

From where my arms lie limp on the ground, something cold touches my fingers. I close my eyes for a second, gulping, before I painfully turn my head to the side. The hand which touches my own is as lifeless as the body that accompanies it. Glazed over eyes meet mine.

A smile of pure evil greets my gaze.

Now I do find my voice, and the scream that erupts from my mouth is enough to rattle the stars.

Sebastian Shaw, lifeless and blue, moves to pin me down. I scream louder, shrieks piercing the darkness, the silence, and my own mind. They echo through the cavern as Shaw's red, hot blood drips onto my face, pouring from the gash on his head.

The gash I put there. The wound I gave him, from standing back and letting Erik move the coin. The final blow, the killing streak to end Sebastian Shaw's life for good, that was my doing. The coin making it's way through his skin , cutting his head, through the thing which gave him life. I stood by and watched it happen. It's my fault he is dead, the first kill I ever chose to let happen. The thought eats away at my insides, turning my heart black and rotten, dripping with guilt.

"Leena."

It was my fault. My fault Shaw died. My fault Erik left. My fault, my fault, my fault.

"Leena!"

I bolt upright. Sweat drips down my forehead as I open my eyes quickly. Light cascades around me as the world comes slowly into focus. The blanket which had been draped over my shoulders falls to the floor. I let out shaky gasps, my head swimming with the final image. Shaw above me, pinning me down, his blood falling against my skin. It was my fault. I close my eyes for a moment, trying to calm my breathing. When I peel them back open again, fighting down the tears, I see Logan sitting across from me, a cigar held daintily in his hand. I sit up straighter, clearing my throat, distinctly aware of the other two passengers in the room watching me.

They're eyes seem to singe my hair, and I try to ignore the steady pounding in my chest. Instead, I sit up and rub my eyes, tucking a loose strand of sweat-slicked hair behind my ear. Streams of sunlight fall through the small windows of the private jet, illuminating the world of dust that dance over the surface of the plane. I look around, my eyes trailing over Charles, who sits slumped over in a chair away from us. Peter is zooming around the space, stopping only a couple times, somehow getting a bunch of cookies, a couple boxes of nuts, and a baseball cap into his hands.

I turn back to Logan still watching me, and gulp. He raises an eyebrow, which makes my nose scrunch in annoyance. He smirks and turns back to his cigar while I fidget in my seat, trying to make sure it doesn't look like I'm breaking inside. I don't think it's working.

"Nightmare?" Logan asks non-chalantly, blowing out a puff of smoke. I purse my lips and bite the inside of my cheek, but after a moment, nod to him. Logan grunts and nods back, as if he knew it all along. I cross my arms around my waist and turn to look out the window. We soar over clouds of ivory, and the sun lights up my eyes.

"I used to get them." I bring my head back up to Logan still watching me, his cigar seemingly forgotten in his hands as his eyes glaze over, remembering something far off and distant. I shift in my seat again, sudden chills running up my spine as I tune in to listen to his next words. Wisdom seems to line each syllable of Logan's reminiscence, despite being still quite young. I suddenly remember just how old he is, that the Logan I'm listening to is not the Logan which actually lived here. This Logan is an older man far away, transporting his mind into his younger body.

"About what?" I dare to ask, my voice barely a whisper. Images of my dream pass through my mind quickly, flashes of brilliant fire I'm unable to quench with the shadows. Logan sighs, looking down to his cigar, remembering he has it, and takes a long drag before answering again. I try not to choke on the flavoured smoke.

"A long time ago," then he pauses, having a little laugh to himself. "Well, I guess a little ways away from now," This makes me smile, the complexity of the whole time travel thing still confusing me. "I was experimented on." My smile immediately drops from my features. "The people... bad people... put a metal called adamantium into my claws. Into my body." I don't know when my hands started shaking, but I pull them into fists, clenching my jaw.

"After I escaped, I had no memory of what happened," Logan continues, his voice growing softer with each word. "Only flashes at night." Then he chuckles. "Those nightmares haunted me for years, even after I figured out my past." He finally stops talking, and I grit my teeth.

"How did you get them to stop?" I ask softly.

Logan grunts, putting out his cigar, turning to look at the window. "I didn't." This makes me frown. "They just... went away after a while. After everything I'd gone through, I thought they wouldn't, but... I guess everything passes, in time."

My frown deepens, and I can't meet the older man's eyes as I look at my hands, still shaking, my breath fluttering inside my chest. Time, what a strange concept, something that should be so simple, so concrete, yet has been manipulated unlike anything I knew to be possible. I used to think that after Erik left, after the children were drafted, the grief would pass. At some point, the nightmares, the voices, would disappear. One day I would wake up and forget about that day in Cuba. I would forget about Shaw and all he did to me. I wouldn't remember Erik or the state of Charles, or any of them, because they had all left me. I used to think I would have time to move on, but that wasn't the case.

Nothing has passed, not even in ten years.

And now I know I don't have as much time as I thought. If we fail at this mission, at breaking Erik out and stopping Raven, I won't have any time at all.

I'll be dead.

I get up from my spot quickly, my head cracking, palms trying to hold in the dark energy. Logan looks up to me in surprise, but I just hold up a hand and stagger out of my seat, turning towards the washroom at the back of the jet. I can feel all three pairs of eyes on me as I open the door swiftly and stumble inside, shutting it with a snap.

I sit down on the toilet, putting my head in my hands, taking deep breaths while my heart steadily quickens. My nightmare comes back; Shaw's tight grip on my hands, the blood dripping onto my face. Erik's turned back, walking away from me, leaving me, to the evil man's clutches. He abandons me, every time I have the dream, he abandons me.

In a spurt of energy, of anger that has been boiling up within me for years, I slam my fist down onto the side wall, biting my lip to keep from screaming as pain explodes across my flesh. Bruises immediately spot my knuckles as I pull my hand back, cradling it as tears stream down my face. I whimper, whispers finding a home in the corners of my mind, in the places I still can't quite control, where darkness rules with a tight fist.

It takes a couple minutes before I can get my breathing under control. I take a deep, shuddering breath and get up, walking over to the little sink near the toilet. The water stings my tender skin as I rub a paper towel over the angry red flesh. Once the blood has all gone, replaced with only small red welts raised on my knuckles, I pull down the first aid kit in the corner cabinet and wrap my hand in one of the bandages, making sure my wound isn't noticeable as I pull down the sleeve of my shirt to mostly cover it.

When I open the door and step back out into the angelic room housing several mutants, I'm surprised to find that they're now all cluttered around one of the small tables on one side of the plane. Charles still sits in his pot, with Peter on the other side, legs propped up and a soda being sipped in his mouth. Logan stands between the two, his hand on one of the plans we brought with us for the Pentagon. The only one missing is Hank, who is currently maneuvering the plane, I see, close to the ground. A skyline emerges, and we go downwards. My stomach heaves, and I need to sit down before I hurl all my lunch out onto the pristine carpet.

I come up beside Peter and push his legs off the seat to sit beside him. He gives me a playful frown, but doesn't object, and simply hands me a packet of gum. I guess they can all see how sick I feel, and I take it gratefully. I pop two of the grape flavoured packets into my mouth, chewing rapidly, before turning back to them.

Charles eyes me carefully, as if he knows what's just happened, and for a moment I panic, wondering if he heard my outburst in the bathroom. My anxiety dissipates when he looks back down, and Logan clears his throat.

"So," he says, gruff voice piercing the air harshly. "We all know the plan?" Peter and I nod in sync, while Charles does the same, only much slower, conflict playing on his features.

"Are you sure we need Erik for this?" he asks cautiously.

Logan nods, hands on his hips, sleeves rolled up to his elbows. "You both told me to find you and Erik here. You two said we'd need both." He stops, but his eyes flick to me, and I think back to our conversation the day before. "So that's what we're doing."

Charles sighs and clears his throat, clearly not happy about this arrangement, but says nothing more as we all confirm our roles and the plan. Soon we're buckling in for landing, which makes me almost puke onto Logan's shoes.

✶

An hour later I find myself walking beside Hank and Logan at the back of a crowd of tourists. Our footsteps echo across the white tile floor, and we pass many framed photographs of important looking men and American flags across the walls.

"Built in 1943, the Pentagon is the world's largest office building," our chipper blonde tour guide speaks clearly. "Housing more than 25,000 military employees stretched over six million square feet." I scrunch my hands into fists, trying to keep one eye on Charles beside me. He looks around cautiously, and we slowly approach the stairs where he and I, as well as Logan, will branch off to help Peter down below.

With every step I take, my breathing gets a little shallower, thoughts jumbled at the thought of seeing Erik again, after all these years. It both makes me want to turn around and bolt out of the building, as well as stride confidently down there, unafraid to see the man again. I don't quite know what I want, and it makes me nauseous.

Hank, who staggers beside me with his adorable tourist bucket hat slung over his brown hair, gives me a reassuring look as the stairs we found in the plans come into view. I take a deep breath.

"Where's the bathroom?" a little boy cries out from the front of the group.

His sister pipes up. "He always needs to pee!'' This causes the whole crowd to laugh, keeping their eyes on the two bickering children ahead. I silently thank the attention grabbing youth as Charles pats Hank on the back, and together, us three branch off, quickly hurrying down the stairs. We round the corner and place our maps and visitor's tags in the trash before practically running down the remaining steps. We go down the dimly lit hall, and turn to hide in a doorway, waiting for Hank to jam the cameras we just carelessly walked past.

I place my back up against the wall and Charles stands beside me, grabbing onto my hand. We don't let go. For this next phase of the plan, I'm going to need as much support as I can get.

Logan is looking at us as if we are crazy. "So, what exactly will this do?" he asks.

I grit my teeth as I slowly let down the shadowy walls confined in my mind. "When the cameras switch to the broadcast," I say, then wince as fire flashes across my temples. "The workers will grow suspicious." I look up at Logan. "And I'll make them relax."

"Like mind control?" He asks. Charles looks down at his feet.

"As close to it as we can get." I tell him carefully. "I can't change people's thoughts, but I can change their emotions." then I pause, and say truthfully. "Though, truth be told, I haven't done it in many years." I don't say any more as Logan opens his mouth to protest, but Charles gives him a warning glare as I close my eyes and gulp in air.

I let the wall disappear fully, and the emotions of every single person in this building hits me like a truck. I gasp. The only reason I don't fall to the ground is because Charles wraps an arm around me, holding me up. My nails dig into his hand as I try to navigate the shadow figures flitting around my head. I push through the excitement of the little children on the first floor, the boredom of some of the employees. I search through anger, hate, resentment, trauma, elation. Every single emotion you could think of, it passes through my mind quickly, like a line of cars speeding down a highway. It makes me sick, but I hold on, shadows pouring from my hands.

I hear Logan gasp as the shadows dance through the empty corridor, trying to search for what we're looking for. At last, when the almost invisible darkness reaches the security room, I pause, and the confusion and suspicion hits me full force.

"I found them." I'm able to choke out, and mentally reach out, commanding the shadows to pour through the bottom of the doorway. The figures inside, cloaked in ebony, don't notice the strange shadows moving into the room. They're talking frantically to each other, anxiety finding homes in their stomachs as the live broadcast up above cloud each and every little screen, including the one we would be illuminated in.

"Get maintenance on the line!" one of the men yells, and I take that as my cue. This time, I do physically reach my hands out, and the shadows in the room pounce, invisible. I weave them through each one of the men's heads, telling them to feel at ease, telling them to relax and enjoy the show. One by one, the men react, giving in to my power, sitting back in their chairs crossing their arms, smiling at the broadcast music. One man laughs, pushing his comrade playfully. They all ease, and the man who had the phone in his hands places it back on the holder, turning away.

Once I know they're all under my control, I open my eyes, the remaining shadows sinking back into my skin. My eyes, which had been glowing black, turn back to their normal green. Logan's eyes are wide enough to the point where they're almost popping out of his head, and my body slumps against Charles, exhaustion taking over my senses. I store the many shadows of men to the back of my mind, making sure they stay calm until we leave, buying us enough time to get Erik out.

The mere thought of him sends nausea rolling through me, on top of all else, and my blemished knuckles burn. A reminder of everything that's happened. Everything that's going to happen. The good and the bad. Death and life. My head lolls to the side, hitting Charles' shoulder. He stiffens, but doesn't move away. I realize I haven't hugged him in years, not properly anyway.

"I bought us enough time." I say. "But I couldn't reach the kitchens." I gulp, and a flicker of shame rests in my gut. "It was too much." Logan doesn't speak, but he gives me a look that seems to say it's alright. Charles helps me go back to stand, and for a second I swoon on my feet, the calm of the workers also affecting me. Right now, I don't want to do anything except sit down and enjoy listening to the radio, but I know we can't do that.

We have a job to do, no matter how much I'm dreading it.

When I feel I can walk properly, I nod to the two men, and together we walk towards the kitchens. The door swings open for us, and I wince as the water sprinklers hit my pale cheeks. I'm immediately drenched, the water dripping onto my skin, my chestnut hair sticking to my neck. The grey-walled kitchens are practically empty, all of the chefs having left, but there are still a few stragglers. I walk beside Logan as Charles steps forward, his eyes hardening.

"Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls," Charles yells out, and the employees continue to scramble around. "This is a code red situation." Charles branches off to one side of the room while Logan and I share a look, knowing that nobody is going to believe Charles, no matter how convincing his story is.

"We are evacuating the entire floor so that we—" he starts to slip as Logan and I meet up with him again. I flinch every couple of seconds as the water droplets move down my flesh. "My associates and I—" the two guards at the back of the room slowly walk forward, and I silently groan. This is not working.

"— can, uh, secure the prison." I wince at his halting sentences. I think it's safe to say that Charles is much better at controlling people's minds than trying to convince them through his actual voice. That, and he is still nursing a hangover, which makes everything worse. Logan rolls his eyes beside me.

"Who are you?" one of the guards asks, looking from Logan to Charles, and then stopping on me, a girl who appears no older than seventeen in the lower levels of the Pentagon with a man obviously lying and the other who can clearly snap both their necks no problem. I'm starting to realize this plan isn't as good as I thought it was, back on the safety of the plane.

"We are..." Charles answers. "Special operations, CB, FB-CID," he gestures towards me. "And this is our... intern." he says, sounding as if he doesn't even believe himself. The two guards look at each other, and their suspicion is swimming through my head.

"Look," Charles tries to recover, while Logan turns to me with an annoyed look on his face, and I shrug. "Perhaps you didn't hear me when I first spoke, but it's imperative that you understand we are in a complete lockdown situation. We have to get you to the—'' but Charles trails off as Logan rolls his shoulders and steps forward, pushing the guard on the left backwards. The man grunts and staggers away, while Logan spins and grabs a frying pan from the shelf beside him, swinging it under the other guards leg, then hitting him in the face. He strikes the other guy with the makeshift weapon and flips him over the shelf with one arm. All the while Charles and I stand frozen, observing the whole scene. Logan turns back to us and gestures to Charles.

"Oh, I'm sorry." he says sarcastically. "Were you finished?" I snort out a laugh, while Charles glares at me, but I ignore him and carefully walk up beside Logan, stepping over the unconscious bodies at my feet.

Charles looks as if he wants to say something, but stops and simply walks towards the guard on the ground, pulling out the long rod which I assume is the key. He walks over to the door and opens the panel, then turns back to us.

"I'm sorry," he says. "I'm just not very good with violence." I laugh a little, and nod to confirm that his statement is in fact true for Logan, who shares a look with me. Charles turns back around as the door dings.

And then the elevator opens. 

AUTHOR'S NOTE...

hello there! 

I'm gonna try and keep this short so I'm just gonna ask what did you think of this chapter? What did you think of Leena's horrible dream at the beginning, wasn't that just awful? It really shows just how much Shaw affected her, and is still effecting her ten years later. What did you think of Logan's advice on the nightmares, isn't he just the greatest Uncle ever? And finally, what did you think of Leena's inclusion in the break in part? I was a little unsure of how to use her, but I like how she was able to use her powers to help them sneak around. 

Favourite part of this chapter? 

As always, don't be afraid to comment and vote if you liked this, I always love hearing your thoughts. If you want, you could also give me a follow?! I promise I don't bite lol. 

Love you, Mal