Day 15 of the 30 Day Challenge - A Fanfic
I tried to look for the fanfics I made when I was younger but I only found one, written a long time ago before the second X-Men movie was released.
My apologies if it's quite long.
"Cut" Bryan Singer yelled, his effort to keep a behind-schedule X-Men 2 on-schedule coming to a stop yet again.
Hugh Jackman groaned. Jimmy Marsden, for whatever reason, just couldn't seem to get through his lines without giggling and Fam and Halle were starting to catch the bug, too. Normally, he'd be infected as well, but today he just wasn't in the mood. Long hours on the set, early mornings training and Oscar being sick keeping him and Deb up most of the night, all contributed to his grumpy ill-humor. Dourly, Hugh paced off-camera to wait. Someone behind him suddenly yelled a warning, but before he could turn, he felt a sharp pain against his head, his eyes tunnel-visioned, his ears rang and blackness engulfed him.
Then, as if from a distance, he heard a familiar voice and felt himself being shaken. Hugh opened his eyes and stared into Cyclops visor. "Jimmy, " he muttered, his hand reflexively going to his head, though he felt no pain now.
"Jimmy?" Scott Summers repeated "You must have hit your head harder then usual, Logan."
"Logan?" Hugh echoed, still dazed as he felt himself helped to his feet. He stared around. He was standing in the same dark alley that had been part of the set, but this was no set. There were no cameras, lights or crew. "What happened?" he demanded. "Where's everybody?"
"I don't know, " Summers replied quizzically. "You chased Avalanche down here. You tell me."
Hugh stared at him. Even with lifts, Marsden was never so tall. Then he laughed lightly and said loudly, "Okay, this was a bloody good joke, but games over, time to come out!"
Summers scowled. Just then Jean, Storm and Nightcrawler ran into the alley, stopping breathlessly beside him.
Nightcrawler said, "I say it be some spell 'fore dey show dey faces again."
Hugh stared afresh at this look-alike for Allan Cumming.
"What's the matter Logan?" Storm asked softly, her voice tainted with a middle-eastern accent, "You look like you've seen a ghost."
"What happened?" Jean hissed to Scott.
"One head knock too many I think. We need to get him back, check him over." Scott grasped Hugh's arm, but he snatched it back."Wait a minute. Who are you? Where's Bryan? Where's the crew? What's going on?"
Scott just nodded to Jean. She stepped back, extended her hands and levitated a protesting Hugh Jackman, who looked like Logan to them, into the air and floated him to the jet. Experiencing real mutant power threw him into an immediate terrified silence and when they reached the jet, he could only gawk at the huge SR77, standing there as real as he was. At their urging, he reluctantly clambered on-board, his stomach flip-flopping with nausea. "This has to be a dream, " he mumbled to himself. They directed him to his usual seat behind Storm and he fumbled the head-set on while staring around the jet's interior, so similar to the set mock-up with one minor exception -- this one worked.
He watched Scott maneuver her smoothly as they lifted-off, then over the head-set listened to him converse with someone he could only assume was Xavier, though he'd have sworn it was Patrick Stewart's voice. He and his "scrambled brain" were the topic of their conversation. "This is worse then a dream, " he told himself, " it's a bloody nightmare."
In the hangar, he shakily clambered down the jet's ladder, his eyes roaming curiously around the huge underground port that housed it before allowing Jean and Scott to each take him by an arm and lead him docilely to the medical lab. There, the door hissed open, making him jump nervously and inside, Patrick Stewart's look-a-like, seated in his wheelchair, waited for them. Hugh gawked, astounded at how much the lab looked like the set, though he spotted some technology here and there he couldn't recognize. It was also chilly and he shuddered involuntarily, perhaps more from shock then cold.
Jean raised the exam table from the floor, then patted it. Reluctantly, he perched his butt on it as directed, feeling like the proverbial bug-under-a-microscope.
"So, " Xavier said, "What happened, Logan?"
"I'm not Logan." He had to resist calling him Pat.
"Ah. Who do you think you are then?"
Annoyed by this childish patronizing, Hugh snapped, "Listen. I don't know what's going on. All I know is I'm an actor who just plays Logan on a movie. My name's Hugh Jackman."
"What do think?" Scott asked Xavier, " Split personality? Or has he finally just gone loopy?"
Hugh eyed the young X-men leader. His austere and commanding sense of presence was a sharp contrast to Jimmy Marsden's more easy-going manner.
Xavier only frowned thoughtfully. "What year is it...Mr. Jackman?"
"2003" Hugh didn't miss the sudden rise of Cyclops eyebrows above his visor.
"And who is President of the United States?"
"Bush, " then effecting a strong accent, added, "Though, I'm Aussie, mate."
Jean and Storm both snickered. "Cute accent, " Jean remarked.
Scott and Xavier only exchanged looks, then Scott said, "I was eleven in 03 and I don't remember any movies about Logan."
He stared at them. "Are you saying this is the future?"
"Maybe not yours, " Xavier replied with furrowed brow.
"I know who I am." Hugh retaliated doggedly to cover his own confusion. "I don't care if I look like him, I'm not him. I'm married, got a kid and I act for a living. That's it."
"Why don't you lay down and relax, Mr. Jackman." Xavier calmly instructed his rankled patient. "If you'll permit me, I can verify what you're telling us."
"You want to do that mind reading thing, don't you?"
Xavier smiled reassuringly. “I won't harm you”
Hugh scanned the ring of intrigued and perplexed faces around him, heaved a sigh, then patiently obeyed. Xavier wheeled around to his head and held his hands an inch away on either side.
"Can you get me back?" Hugh interrupted.
"We'll try. Now relax, Mr. Jackman." Xavier closed his eyes for several minutes. When he opened them, he said. "I'd like Jean to do a CT scan on you -- just to confirm some things before I speculate further.”
Hugh nodded and reluctantly shifted to the CT table, letting Jean slide him inside the familiar prop-machine that now wasn't a prop. He squinted in the brightness and listened nervously as it's banks of lights clicked in sequence around him, having never heard them before. Sound was normally post-production.
Outside everyone peered at the monitor, seeing exactly what they'd expect on Logan's skeleton, adamantium.
"Hmmm," Xavier mused. "It's Logan's body alright, but not his mind."
"You're kidding, " Scott murmured. Xavier shook his head.
"We be in big trouble den, " Gambit muttered, his arms folded on his chest.
"Not necessarily, " Xavier replied. "He is an actor. He could play the part."
Scott frowned dubiously, considering that as Jean slid the table back out and Hugh eagerly hopped off, glad to be out. "Well?"
"What do you remember?" Xavier asked.
"Getting whacked on the nog"
Xavier looked to Scott, "And Logan was unconscious?" He nodded. "Well, the CT shows adamantium on your skeleton proving that is Logan's body, " Xavier explained, gesturing at Hugh, "However in mind, you are who you say you are. Hugh Jackman, an actor."
"Crimy. Are you suggesting some kind of switch happened while I was unconscious? I'm here and he's there?"
"More then that. I think you've crossed a dimensional plane into an alternate reality. In your world, we are mere fiction, but here--- quite real."
Hugh ran his fingers through his hair, swearing under his breath. "This is a bloody mess! My wife and kid are back there. They'll think he's me--what'll happen?"
"It's hard to say. He'll certainly be more lost and confused then you, " Xavier assured.
"And helpless, " Scott added. "No adamantium."
"Then knock me out and get me back!"
"We have a slightly more pressing problem to contend with before we figure out how to get you home."
Xavier told this distressed looking Wolverine. "There's an important rendezvous Logan has to keep tomorrow night." Pausing, Xavier quickly checked his watch and since it was after one am, corrected himself. "Well, actually tonight. The contact only knows Logan and only agreed to meet with Logan for the exchange."
Hugh stared at Professor Xavier, still feeling like Singer could yell "cut" any minute and Patrick Stewart would hop-up. "You want me to impersonate Logan?"
"You said you're an actor, " Scott challenged. "Get in character. Give us a sample."
Hugh eyed Summers hotly, then paced away, channeling those emotions to connect to his projection of Logan and when he turned back, he was Logan. With a haughty glare, he walked right up to Summers, jabbed a finger into his chest and gruffly snarled, "Don't tell me what to do -- Cyclops."
The girls and Kurt Wagner gave him a little round of applause. Scott smirked, "It'll do."
Hugh rolled his shoulders around to release tension and looked at Xavier. "You really think I can pull it off?"
"Easily."
"Well, give me some kinda script then and I'll adlib from there.”
"We can do that. Scott, will you show Mr. Jackman to Logan's room. It's late and tomorrow will be a big day -- for all of us."
Lost in his own thoughts, Hugh walked silently with Scott to the elevator that took them to the first floor, then upstairs to his room where Scott left him on his own. He got ready for bed, hoping, as he slid under the covers, he'd wake up at home, beside Deb and this all would just be some vague, far away dream.
He was disappointed. He woke-up still in Xavier's mansion, the clock face telling him it was nine am. Grimly, he got up and dressed. It was weird looking in a mirror at a face that was, yet wasn't his. He looked like Wolverine without the daily make-up or goo to keep his hair in place. He ran a brush through the thick, wavy mat, fascinated at how Logan's cowlick's curled-up like devil's horns on their own. Then he stepped out into the hallway, paused long enough to figure out which direction he'd come from last night, then headed for the stairs. He found Storm waiting for him at the bottom.
"Good morning, Mr. Jackman, " she smiled. "Are you hungry?'
He nodded. "Call me Hugh."
"This way, " she said.
He walked with her, noting how different her hair was from Halle's wig, how it hung in thick, wavy stresses and how strikingly exotic and graceful she was. The dining hall turned out to be a large room with mounted deer, boar and antelope heads still decorating the high walls and a blazing stone fireplace. He politely collected breakfast from the elderly ladies behind the steam-tables, then joined Scott at a table where he was rapidly grading some papers.
He glanced up at Hugh's approach. "Good morning, Log...," stopped, then corrected himself. "… Mr. Jackman."
"Hugh." Sitting, he surveyed Scott's stack of books and papers as Storm joined them with her own fresh cup of tea. "What do you teach?" he ventured.
"Everything from basic math to Trig. The kids are different ages, so I have to teach several levels in one class."
Hugh nodded as he dug in hungrily. He'd never once thought how smart Summers had to be. He squeezed out his tea-bag and added half-and-half to his teacup, then suddenly felt stared at. He looked up. "What?"
"Logan usually drinks black coffee, " Storm answered.
"And calls drinking tea like that sissified, " Scott chuckled.
"He would, " Hugh snorted, storing that tidbit away to use for his character sometime.
"It's hard adjusting to you looking like Logan without being Logan, " Scott added.
"I could say the same thing about you. You could be twins with the guy who plays you -- just taller."
Scott smiled at that and, finished with his grading, neatly stacked the homework papers to one side. "I've always heard everyone's supposed to have a doppelganger, " he replied, then got up to refill his teacup.
"It must be strange for you -- being here, " Storm said.
Hugh glanced at her and sighed, nodding. "Strange. Confusing. Scary. All that." He pushed his tray aside. Scott returned, gave his watch a quick check, then stirred half-and-half into his own tea. Hugh observed the real Cyclops was quite dapper. Even his jeans were pressed with perfect creases. "So, " Hugh dared, "what's this exchange tonight about?"
Scott shrugged. "It's Logan's baby. All we know is it's supposed to be valuable mutant intelligence and he believed his contact reliable enough to arrange the pickup."
"So you really don't know who I'm meeting?"
He shook his head. "But don't worry. We'll be nearby."
"Lovely." Hugh toyed with his fork, his ideas wandering then to something else he'd been thinking of. "If I have Logan's adamantium, then I also have his claws?" They both nodded. "So, how does he make them come out?"
Storm and Scott exchanged a glance.
"I suppose he just thinks about it, " Storm offered.
Scott snorted with a bemused smile. "It's never come up before and we never asked, but even if you could, would you know what to do with them? They're not what I'd call safe playthings."
"I worked with a real set while filming. No problem." Pride made him deliberately skip mentioning all the times he'd either cut or stabbed himself with even the pretend ones.
Scott checked his watch again. "Well, time for class." He slid his papers into a folder and collected his books. "I guess you'll just have to go outside and figure it out. See you at lunch." Then left.
"I've got class, too, " Storm agreed. Then placing her hand on his forearm, gently added, "Good luck -- and be careful." Hugh mulled things over a bit longer before clearing out and heading outside to do just what Summers suggested -- figure it out.
He decided being outside was a good thing. No one could hear him cuss the first time he managed to get those things out. He didn't expect the sharp, stinging pain that came when they pierced his skin and, because it broke his concentration before he got them locked in place, they slipped back in again. Nor could anyone see him looking ridiculous, dancing around, shaking his hands out and rubbing his knuckles either. Fortunately, it was a very quick pain, but still enough to make him hesitate. Then, bracing himself, he reached deep inside for Logan's rage and with a bellow, popped the claws fully into place. After that, he shadow-boxed through all the fighting motions he'd used on the set and becoming exhilarated, couldn't resist snarling, “No one messes with the Wolverine!” Finally, hot and sweating, he winced only slightly as he retracted the blades, started to walk away, then spun and snapped them back into place as if confronting an imaginary attacker, testing his control. Satisfied, he retracted them again as he walked toward the school. It was only then the possibility of actually having to use them, maybe even put them through somebody in real life, sank in and the fun of it disappeared. His stomach churned with anxiety and fear. He wasn't Wolverine. He was just Hugh Jackman, actor, husband, father -- who'd never been in a life and death scrape his entire life. Humbled, he spent his time until lunch exploring Xavier's vast mansion, in particular the garage full of classics and Scott's custom motorcycle. Just for a look-see.
Back in the dining hall for lunch, Hugh immediately noticed he drew many glances as he got in line, no doubt because news he was an "imposter" had gotten around. He glimpsed Rogue a few of people ahead of him with Gambit, but any resemblance to Anna Paquin proved only skin deep as soon as she turned her stormy and angst-filled gaze on him. It had a darkness that Anna, of course, didn't and Rogue's gothic make-up accented it. In fact, most of the students had a sense of grimness about them quite apart from the actors who portrayed them. It was eerie and he could only assume it due their hard life experiences as mutants. Rogue ignored him after that, returning her attention to Gambit.
He settled cheerfully at a table with the rest of the team and Xavier.
"So, " Scott immediately asked, "did you figure it out?"
He nodded. "No problem, " then dug hungrily into his food, having worked up an appetite and letting conversation drift away from him to other topics. He didn't want to go into the in-securities he was having.
After lunch, Xavier had him come to his office to give him at least the sketchy details of the plan, with sketchy being the operating word, and rehearse his part. Xavier explained then that Scott only had coordinates to land in a specified location in the outback of Alaska, where he, as Logan, was supposed to go a cabin, meet his contact, collect the whatever, then get back on the jet and fly back. He surveyed the page of meager script Xavier had given him with dismay. "I don't see how I can cover not knowing who I'm meeting or what I'm asking for."
"Bluff." Xavier replied. "Logan's not a man of many words -- use that to your advantage. Force your contact do the talking."
He nodded dubiously. "It seems to me Logan's left you a little high and dry on this one. I'm surprised you don't keep him on a shorter leash."
"This is hardly a run-of-mill circumstance, Mr. Jackman. Consciousnesses don't trade places everyday, so its a little hard to anticipate. As for Logan -- he may march to his own drums, but I've always found him trustworthy."
Hugh nodded, absorbing these little character revelations.
"Shall we rehearse?" Xavier invited.
He nodded again, stood and approached Xavier as his contact, imagining a cabin in frozen waste and Xavier drilled him over and over until his performance as Logan was smooth, regardless of what he threw at him. After that, he had all afternoon and the rest of the evening till flight time to try to stay busy and try not to worry, though he didn't have much appetite at dinner.
Too soon, it was time to don uniforms for their late night flight. He changed beside Scott, slipping back into Logan's real X-men uniform and noting it's many improvements over his costume version. It had some kind of protective environmental-knit lining that kept it's wearer either warm or cool and a built-in protective cup, a little nicety that might've spared him from being nearly castrated by his flying-harness in the first film had his costumer been so thoughtful.
"Nervous?" Scott asked, trying to lighten the mood.
Hugh put a hand to his stomach. "Worst then opening night. Can't tell whether to chuck or pee on myself." He'd certainly done his share of both at one time or another.
Scott chuckled and clapped him on the shoulder. "You'll do all right." Then passed him his X-men arctic gear consisting of a black parka, heavy scarf and ski-goggles. Hugh made one last pit stop before heading for the jet, just to be sure and, since he wasn't going, Wagner politely shook his hand goodbye, wishing him luck.
In Alaska, he dropped down the ladder and joined his team standing on the snow surveying the cold, twilight landscape. Close to midnight, it was that time of year when arctic nights are short and barely night at all. Several hundred feet away, a cabin stood framed against snow-covered furs and low hills that ascended into majestic peaks in the distance behind it. It was far prettier then he even imagined and, under other circumstances, he might have enjoyed it more. He looked to Scott, who nodded, then signaled the rest of his team to break up and take their positions. Hugh squared his shoulders, got in character and crunched resolutely through the snow towards the cabin.
As he neared it, the pungent scent of burning wood greeted him, assuring him someone was home. He pulled the goggles and scarf down to expose his face, then knocked on the door. It opened a crack and a woman of intoxicating beauty peered out, her skin white as porcelain, her hair short and black and her eyes the deepest violet-blue he'd ever seen. He scowled impatiently to hide his surprise.
She smiled. "Logan. Come in."
Brushing past her, he strode toward the fireplace, stopped in front of it, threw back his hood and glanced around the meager decor giving himself time to re-coop. He hadn't expected this. Then he faced the strange woman dressed simply in boots, pants and a bulky, red sweater that did little to hide her figure and arched his left brow as if to say, "Well?"
"Don't you have anything to say to me, Logan?" she asked.
"I'm not here for a social call, " he retorted brusquely.
Her full lips pouted. "You never were one to mince words."
He shrugged one shoulder as if indifferent, waiting for her to offer the item. He had no idea what sort of history these two had, but whatever it was, obviously her coals for Logan still burned bright and it made him cautious of asking exactly what it was she had for him. That could get him in trouble he didn't want to be in.
She came up beside him then, reached to the mantle, opened a small box, removed something and silently handed it to him. He looked at two three-inch DSD's, then pocketed them. "Thanks."
"Is that all?" she asked, her eyes beseeching.
Suddenly, before he decide how to reply, something burst through the wall and exploded into flames, startling them both. It was followed by a second flaming projectile. Grabbing his arm, she hurriedly towed him toward the rear of the cabin, snatching up her own parka before they reached the back door. Outside, she jerked a tarp off a snowmobile.
"They're after me, not you." she informed him, throwing the tarp in a heap to one side, then zipping-up her parka. "I'll try to draw them off so you can get away."
He could hear the approaching whines of other snowmobiles, increasing explosions and yelling voices. Maybe Scott's. "Better hurry, " he said.
She took a step toward the snowmobile, then paused, turned back, seized him by his parka collar, pulled him to her and planted a kiss on his lips before he knew what was happening. Then, just as abruptly, she let go, whispered, "Take care of yourself -- like you always do, " then leaped on her snowmobile, started it and roared off without a backward glance.
He just stood shivering in the freezing air, stunned until a fresh explosion shook him back to reality. The far end of the cabin was already ablaze, so he ran to the end that wasn't on fire, crouched and peered around the corner to watch Logan's lady friend loop around front to catch her adversaries attention, then swing back into the trees with them hot on her trail. Then Hugh peered cross the snow plain in the direction of the jet, trying to decide whether he should make a break for it or not. Fog was rapidly building up, probably thanks to Storm, and he could see Cyclop's red optic beams firing after the retreating snowmobiles. One exploded into flames. Finally deciding to make a dash, Hugh plunged into the fog, running low and aiming where that red beam originated. Then, as if it were filled with land-mines, the snow around him began randomly exploding and he could only guess it was some mutant thing. Terrified, he didn't know what else to do but keep running and try a little zig-zagging. Suddenly, a explosion behind him blew him face-first into the snow, but he scrambled up and ran on, his lungs aching with cold and pulse pounding in his temples. He could make out Scott waving him in before he heard another explosion and felt a sharp pain on his head, the impact plowing him into the snow again. Dazed, he rolled onto his back, his ears ringing. The last thing he saw was Scott's visored face leaning over him, calling his name, "Hugh, Hugh!"
"I got it, " Hugh mumbled as he pried his eyes open and felt for his pocket. Funny, he couldn't feel any parka.
"Got what?''
Hugh Jackman rolled his eyes upward to Patrick Stewart crouched above his head, his face concerned, then glanced around at all their concerned faces, Jimmy, Famke, Halle, Mike and Bryan. He was back! His hand reflexively went to the goog on the back of his head as he struggled to sit up. "How long was I out?" It felt like two days.
"Just a few seconds, " Jimmy replied.
Hugh looked into those clear blue eyes. "That's all?" Jimmy nodded. "And nothing unusual happened?" They all seemed perplexed. "Never mind, " he told them. Hands helped him to his feet and he happily surveyed all the sets, equipment, cameras and crew.
"Are you sure you're okay?" Bryan asked with concern.
"After all the stunts I've done? What's a little bonk on the head? Let's get on."
They went back to the shoot and Jimmy finally got through his lines without giggling. Since no seemed to think he'd been gone, Hugh, the memories of his experience already rapidly fading, found himself questioning whether he'd really been anywhere else. After all, he was living and breathing X-men sixteen hours a day. It could have been just a dream. Still, he remembered enough to be delighted to have his own life back and ended the day in a far better mood then he began it. When he got home, much to Deb's surprise, he kissed her like he hadn't seen her for a week, certain no matter how lovely Logan's lady-friend might've been she couldn't hold a candle to his true love. Then he eagerly picked up Oscar, still grumpy with his cold and kissed him, glad to be home where he belonged, where life was safe and relatively simple.
Even so, in the days to follow, at odd moments, the sensation of Alaska's biting cold came back to him or the feel of Logan's claws bursting through his skin or that porcelain face with its strange violet eyes and e had to ask himself whether he was sure it was just a dream -- or had it really been something more?
