Title: Will You Help Me When I Stumble?

Series: Sorrow After Sins, Part 4

Author: Whipblade

E-mail : whipblade@...

Disclaimers: See splash.

Summary : Kitty remembers his name. No one is a happy
camper.




[ Translations ]
~telepathic dialogue~
‘ thoughts ’


                       Sorrow After Sins :
                              Part 4
                 Will You Help Me When I Stumble?





Kitty laid in his bed. Blackness all around as he
tried to fall asleep. Hushed voices danced about
his bed as the sounds of people moving things softly
echoed. Kitty began to slip into the zone
between awake and asleep, where everything never seems
real but never seems false either.
Something touched the back of Kitty’s head, like a
stream of water floating up his neck and into
his skull.

~Kitty~ The tall red head's voice echoed over his
mind.

~Kitty, it's me. I came to see what they did to you.
Alright?~ The red head with perfect hair
echoed.

~No! NO!~ Kitty screamed at her as he felt the light
water creep further into his mind.

"RRAAAHH! Stay out o' my head Frail!" Kitty snarled as
he bolted upright his few claws slashing
at the nearest person, his mind’s barriers shot up as
quickly as he opened his black eyes alert and
fully aware of the blanket in his lap. The red head
screamed as she covered her temples with her
hands.

Kitty growled as large furry hands grabbed his arms
and forced him to back down on the bed.
Kitty noticed the activity around himself.  People who
he half recognized came to the red heads
aid as she bled, some mulled around curious and
anxious to help, but needed direction, and one
short, dark haired man with long silver claws growled,
snarling, ready to attack. Kitty recognized
him, Wolverine..., Logan..., enemy or friend, Kitty
wasn't sure which. They all left once the
winded speech escaped the long blue furred mutant who
still kept his large hands pressed firmly
on Kitty’s own chest. After the others left, the blue
one did as well, taking large furry hands with
him.

Kitty stayed alert as he was left alone. Hours had to
have passed, voices trickled from the hallway
along with footsteps. Familiar voices once again came
to Kitty's ears.

*

Walking down the hall passing the infirmary Wolverine
talked to Cyclops. "How’s Jeannie?"

"Fine, the cuts aren't too deep, she's a little
disoriented, but is going to be normal in a few
hours."
Cyclops replied.

"Good ta know." Wolverine replied.

*

Kitty felt eyes on him at all times since he was moved
out of intensive care and into a different
part of the medical center. The smaller white washed
room looked more like a doctor’s clinic with
his bed against a wall, equipment that beeped and
buzzed surrounded Kitty. Kitty finally dozed
off.

Blackness surrounded the voices that echoed around.
"Creed, CREED! Dammit, Sabretooth pay attention!"
Magneto's voice raged.

"Tell Raven ta keep her clothes on then." Sabretooth
growled.

"Its not like you haven't seen it before, Creed."
Mystiques voice sneered.

"Oh sure! Ya realize that now after the strip tease.
Enjoy the show Toad?" Sabretooth growled
again.

"Uh huh, more, more..," Toad groveled as he drooled.

"Stop that wart face!" Mystique growled.

"Are we ready?" Magneto snapped.

"Oh yeah plenty ready." Sabretooth snarled.

The whole dream shifted into a wavy distorted bar
scene.

"Get me another drink frail, I mean NOW!" Sabretooth
growled.

"Whoa check out what walked in!" Toad whispered.

"Looks government. Sabretooth, working behind our
backs?" Mystique sarcastically sneered.

"Not a chance." Sniff, sniff. "Heads up, it’s about ta
get messy. Guy’s got a gun, and a lot more
guys with guns outside and on the roof. They ain't
quiet enough." Sabretooth growled.

"Creed, don't do anything stupid." Magneto warned.

"Do I ever?" Sabretooth snarled.

Kitty stirred in bed, a weak smile crept over his
sleeping lips.


They bounced off the wall. Bullets flew hitting other
people in the bar. A flash of white light
dotted his vision.

Growling he mauled the first person he got his hands
on. Some kid wearing leather and chains.
Discarding the body, he jumped on top of the bar
counter to more or less, attract attention to
himself.

Mystique punched Magneto in the face. Did she just do
that?

Blinding red filled his vision as the bullets started
to tear into his side. He leapt towards them.
Taking a bunch in the gut, then slashed the uniform
man into ribbons of meat.

Toad screamed.

Toad was in the middle of the floor, sprawled out with
a metal thing around his neck.  Five
uniforms were around him. White sparks flew as the
uniforms hit Toad with stun lasers.

Sabretooth lunged at them. Kicking, snarling, and
killing. Toad could barley move, he was hit
too hard, too long.
Sabertooth stood up watching the melee, and what he
seriously thought Mystique was actually
slapping Magneto. Slapping? Out of all the things...,

Toad moaned.

Sabretooth looked down, as more uniforms entered the
war zone bar.
Sabretooth kicked the barely conscience Toad out of
his way. The green man flew through the air
before landing behind the bar.


Leaping back on top a table Sabretooth roared as he
tackled five uniformed men, and a few kids
to boot.
The Calvary of uniforms started to rush the mauling
mutant, just as Sabertooth disemboweled
four of their friends.

The scent of fresh blood and fear made Sabretooth
salivate, he roared as wooden shrapnel from
tables and chairs, exploded in the air. Impaling
themselves into the flesh of various teenagers
struggling out the door jams and the various uniforms
trying to rush up on Sabretooth with
round shiny things in their hands.

Sabretooth smashed a fifth table into a uniforms face.
Sabretooth growled as he kicked over
chairs and flung the disembowel bodies into the live
moving bodies.

Guns, stun lasers, sharp biting pain hit Sabretooth
from all directions. He reared while roaring
in pain and anger. Snarling Sabretooth clawed at
approaching uniforms. All too aware that he
was surrounded.

The snap of cold metal around Sabretooth's neck made
the mutant once more let out an ear
shattering roar. He twisted around grabbing the
uniform who dared collared him, and ripped the
uniforms head off like so many beer caps. The collar
gave Sabretooth a disadvantage to the fire
fight, he couldn't heal and it only increased his
viciousness.
Sabretooth didn't care about the collar, these
uniforms were going to be road kill soon enough.


Sabretooth dipped his claws into blood as he killed
more, while  taking hits from
stun guns, stun lasers and other various non-lethal
weapons only pissed
Sabretooth off more.

The sound of a tin can rolling across the floor seemed
to drowned out the barks from the guns as
dark smoke soon filled the bar. The choking smoke
started. Tears welled up in Sabretooth's eyes.
Smoke, tear gas. Coughing Sabretooth dropped to his
knees, only to find the gas just as
suffocating.  More hits from something. Coughing,
choking, Blackness threatened to take over,
finally with three chairs crashed over his head. It
did.

Sabretooth passed out, the last one to be taken in, or
maybe just the last one not to get out fast
enough.

Kitty awoke to the brightness once more. Alone and
surrounded by cleanness, Kitty shook his
head.
"Kitty?" The man grunted as he turned his head towards
a tray with some slimly looking yellow
and green stuff on it.
"They think I gonna eat Mew Mix for the rest of my
life?" He growled as he turned his head away
from the tray with hospital food on it.

***************

Creed rested in the smaller infirmary room. He stared
up at the ceiling, his thoughts a jumbled
mess. Reflecting on the dreams he recently had, as
well as piecing together what memories he
had.

'He knew he got careless in the battle, resulting in
his capture. So he lost a few years of his life, no
biggie, but he still couldn't remember a whole lot,
and some things he did, made less sense than
anything Weapon X did.'

'That was Mystique that was throwing a hissy fit in
the middle of the melee, wasn't it? And that
was Toad he had saved, right?

'Magneto and Mystique still dead? Wolverine, that damn
runt, enemy or friend now? '

'Was any of the plan worth all this frustrating
distraction?'

'HELL NO!' Creed seemed to scream to himself.

Letting out an audible growl, Creed swore that 'when
he got his hands on Magneto, or who ever
was running the Brotherhood now, he was gonna show
them just what it’s like ta be beat up, held
down, cut up an raped.'

Creed grunted. 'Naw, just'll kill them, slowly.'


Creed closed his eyes and sighed deeply trying to calm
down some. The pain between his legs
burned too much for him to start moving around and
biting things.

A dark shape shifted the light.

Upon opening his eyes, Creed saw the big blue mutant.

"Ahh, so the injured Kitty is awake. How do you feel
oh violent one?" Beast teased his patient.

"GRRRRRR" was all  Creed, said in reply.

Beast sat down beside his enemy and leaned into the
man's view. "What happened?" Beast
inquired.

"Ain't tellin' ya shit." Creed spat.

"Do you know what happened to you?" Beast asked, his
voice low and concerned.

Creed paused. "Don't call me Kitty."

"It's either Kitty, or I call you Sabretooth, and
everyone will know who you are and come
knocking on the door." Beast gloated.

Creed wrinkled his nose, not fully understanding, but
getting the drift. "Fine."

"Now, do you remember what happened to you?" Beast
asked a little more pleasant.

"Ya, kinda." Kitty Creed growled.

Beast paused. "Do you remember them performing any
surgery on you?"

Creed looked away from the hairy blue doctor. "It
wasn't surgery." He muttered.


"I take that as a yes." Hank said.

"Get the collar off o' me." Creed muttered.

"It already is off, Creed. It has been off for 4
months. You have been in and out of consciousness
since you arrived here."

Creed turned his head away. He slowly moved his left
leg.

Hank watched as his fierce patient test his joints. He
watched Creed biting his bottom lip and
growling then rested his leg back down.

"How.. bad is it?" Creed asked not looking at the
X-Man.

"Bad?" Hank paused. "Well, the vas deferens has been
drastically severed, while the urethra is
untouched the seminal vesicle has been damaged, you
may also have side effects with the
medication I have given you. Weak bladder is also
going to be an obstacle for a while. From mid
thigh to mid thigh has been almost sawed open, Skin
had to be removed due to infections
and .. other.. various things. As well as the scrotum
has been fully removed by what ever means
they used." Hank finished after stumbling over a few
words.

Creed's head lolled over looking at Beast. "How bad?"
he repeated, then added. "Laymen terms"

Hank sighed. "They cauterized you brutally, as well as
raped you. From mid inner thigh, to mid
inner thigh has been ripped apart and your testicles
have been removed, as well."


Creed had turned away flinching.

Instinctively as a doctor Hank placed a hand on
Creed's shoulder.

Creed shook him off.
"Wha' ya saying is, basically I ain't gonna have kids
or sex again and I’m gonna be wetting the
bed?" Creed asked disgusted.

"You will be able to have sex, but you won't be able
to have an erection." Hank said.

"Any of the others know?..." Creed asked, suddenly
feeling ashamed, and degraded.

"No. I shall keep it that way, unless you say
something."

Creed looked back at the doc, black eyes looked into
brown. "Not gonna..why ain’t I healin'?"

"Honestly I don't know. It might be due to the
extended period of wearing the collar. Some of the
other patient have had the same effect."

"Don't like that answer."

"Neither do I, Kitty."  Hank admitted.

"Don’t call me that." Creed muttered as he shut his
eyes turning his head back away from the blue
hairy mutant.

"The good news, however is that they didn't surgically
cut you anywhere else. Other than broken
bones, bruises, and scrapes, You'll be fine." Hank
finished with a hopeful note.

"Yeah.., wonderful. Meanwhile, I’m gonna be wetting
myself." Creed groaned.

"Not necessarily, if you feel strong enough, I can
help you to the washroom, however if you wish
I can always install a cassader"

"Oh.."

Hank poured bottled water into a paper cup. "Try to
drink." He encouraged.

Creed lifted his hand, his band-aid fingers reaching
for the cup. Creed looked around as he
grasped the cup. He was the only one left down here.
Slowly, Creed sipped at the water. The cool
liquid ran down his throat, refreshing him. Then he
felt the urge, groaning to himself Creed looked
at Hank, crumpling the cup he asked. "Where's the
bathroom?"

*******

A guitar strummed. It was faint and outside the room.
An Irish accent sang like a quail in the
dark.
Creed opened his eyes slowly listening to the song.

"They say mother earth is breathing, With each wave
that finds the shore, Her soul rises in the
evening, For to open twilight’s door."

Creed grunted as a female, he recognized the
voice..what was her name? Weather bitch? Weather
rider? something weathery , she started into the song.

"Her eyes are the stars in the heaven, Watching o'er
us all the while, And her heart it is in Ireland,
Deep with in the Emerald Isle."

Creed cocked a brow, she could sing pretty good, even
with a fake Irish accent.

He yawned, stretching his mouth muscles and letting
the stale medical air brush over his white
fangs and red slimy tongue.

He sniffed, he stunk. Where’s the shower? He stopped
listening to the song being played as he
looked at the equipment he was attached to. His
healing factor hadn't kicked back in, that pissed
him off, he hurt like a son o' a bitch.

Creed propped himself up by his elbows and looked
around. He was alone, he knew the bathroom
was just across the room complete with a bathtub.
Creed examined the stuff he was hooked up to
and into again.

He didn't know what it was called. He wasn't a medic,
Hell he’d never even been in a hospital
before, there was a needle stuck into his vein on the
back of his left hand and bandaged in place,
an IV. Gently peeling the tape off the back of his
hand Creed growled as he pulled some hairs,
then slowly pulled out the needle. He sighed, it
wasn't that painful.

Now he had to get off the table and stand up, sounds
easy enough. Keeping his legs together,
Creed slid painfully over the side of the steel bed.
His bare feet connecting to the incredibly cold
floor. He shivered grabbing his blanket and wrapping
himself in it. Slowly, awkwardly he stood,
leaning a hip against the stationary steel bed.

"Ok, now to walk from here to there." He grunted to
himself, his low voice echoing slightly in the
empty room. The singing drowned it out.

Creed slowly made his way across the cold floor. Step
by painful step, he couldn't move his legs
too far apart at anyone time, it just hurt too much.
Creed made it to the bathroom door, he
wanted to do a small happy dance of victory, but
refrained as he closed the door and dropped his
blanket.

Creed stared at the step he had to get over in order
to have a shower. He groaned wondering how
to get over that. Lifting his knee that height never
was a trouble before, and it was only a foot
maybe less.

"Damn son o' a bitch who ever invented bath tubs ought
ta be dragged out and shot in the street."
Creed growled to himself.

He slowly reached and turned on the luke-warm water.
"For nothing.," Creed sighed to himself as he hopped
on to the bathtub side.

He gripped the walls almost losing his balance. He
slid himself down not letting go of the walls,
black claws dragged along the tub’s surround tiles
leaving deep divots. His feet landing in the
puddle created by splashing down water from the shower
head. Closing the flimsy pink see-
through shower curtain. Creed sighed as he grabbed a
bar of soap and started to wash himself up,
relieving his skin of the dried blood, sweat, smell,
and filth he had collected in Genosha for the
years he had been there. He slowly delicately dabbed
at his inner thigh. Running his hand along his
cock’s length, he sighed sadly, knowing it would be
very unlikely he would ever be able to have a
hard on again till his Healing Factor kicked back in.
Creed hurried up and finished washing himself
then grabbing the shampoo conditioner combined, he
proceeded to wash his tangled hair.

*
Beast walked into the Infirmary "Oh my." He stated to
himself as he noticed his patient had
seemed to have fled. Beast quickly scanned around the
large room. He gave a small breath of
relief as he saw the bathroom door closed but not
locked. Walking to the door, he raised a big
blue hairy paw and banged.

*
Creed growled as he let water splash over his chest.
“I haven’t ran. Go away!" He hollered
knowing it would be Beast.

*

Beast smiled. "Are you alright? Need anything?" Beast
said not about to enter the bathroom as he
heard the water running.

"Fine. NO! Go away!" Came the quick angry reply. Beast
chuckled again as he walked away from
the door and headed to do some various tasks.

*

Creed stood in the bathtub. His water stopped and the
curtain pulled back. He had a new
problem. How the fuck to get out of there now. Creed
laughed at himself for such a stupid thing.
He looked at the sink beside the bathtub then smiled.
Grabbing onto the sink he braced his upper body and
jumped praying he won't slip and fall. Creed
landed heavily on the other side of the bathtub. He
swore loudly as the pain ricocheted up his legs
and burned into his stitches.
Creed slowly toweled himself off giving up on the
dripping blood.

*

Beast turned his head as the bathroom door opened.
With a towel wrapped around his waist and a blanket
wrapped around the rest of him Creed
limped out of the bathroom. Blood dripping down from
between his legs.
Hank cursed as he rushed to Creed.

Creed accepted the help walking across the floor.
Beast sighed hearing the large man grinding his
teeth together.

Once Creed was back on his bed Hank hooked him back up
to the Morphine with a new IV. Then
proceeded to re-stitch him. A hiss  and  several
growls escaped from Creed as Beast gently ran
the needle and thread to and fro in and out of Creed's
skin.

******

Logan strolled down the silver hallway. He wanted to
know when he could kick Creed's ass again.
Upon entering the Infirmary he peeked around. Creed,
nice and shinny with still dripping wet hair
seemed to be asleep on his bed.

"Any change?" Logan grunted as he watch Hank discarded
some bloody surgical gloves into a
medical waste trash can.

"Not yet, Logan." Hank replied.

Logan sat beside Creed on a chair that was next to the
bed. "Awake ugly?"

"Hell you want?" Creed growled.

"About time you woke up." Logan chuckled.

Creed turned his head looking at Logan dressed in
jeans and a blue button up top. "Well?"

"Think anyone be lookin' for ya?" Logan asked.

"Fuck you." Creed snarled.

"Fine, Kitty" Logan sneered as he stood up, then
turned to McCoy. Knowing he shouldn’t but
unable to resist, Logan decided to put fear in Creed
to hopefully get the blond kitty to talk.
  "Hank, when Kitty is ready to be transported, notify
me. I'm to restrain Creed and escort him to
the detention cell."

"Is that wise so soon Logan?" Hank inquired stunned at
the blunt coldness. Seeing the corner of
Logan’s mouth twitch upwards. That was cruel and
uncalled for in Hank’s mind. Hank also saw
Creed missed the small body language play.

"Yes." Logan said coldly as he turned and sauntered
out of the room.

Creed watched Logan leave and sighed. He didn't want
to be caged again, they couldn't, he
wouldn't let them. Fear gripped Creed's chest.

Beast could see the fear in Creed's face. "Don’t worry
Creed, he won’t.” Hank said with a smile.
“The professor isn’t that kind of man, and even Logan
won’t be so cruel.”

Creed growled. "Not worried.  I'll be fine soon, maul
you all"

Beast sighed turning away from Creed. Someone so
injured, being hostile to his saviors, he didn't
understand it.  Heading for the cabinet Hank reached
for the bottle of Advil to help ward off the
Sabretooth induced headache.


************

Xavier sat in his office. Wolverine had expressed his
feelings for Sabretooth quite colorfully. Six
long deep slashes in Xavier’s desk were the result of
Wolverine's lost argument.

Xavier sighed.  Sabretooth, according to Hank was in
no condition to be walking too far. Putting
him in a cage would make it worse. And from the
reports of Banshee and Storm, Sabretooth
made no attempt to go beyond his bed or the bathroom.

Nightcrawler suddenly appeared in Xavier's office with
a Bampf surrounded by a black and white
smoke cloud.
"You wanted to see me?" Kurt with his German accented
voice asked.

"Indeed Kurt. I need you to do a solo mission." Xavier
informed his blue furry X-Men.

"Ja? Where?" Nightcrawler enthusiastically asked.

"Right here in the mansion"

"Don't sound like much. What I do?"

"Well, I need you to.... occupy someone’s time, and
perhaps... sway them over to our cause."
Xavier said leaning forward.

Nightcrawler tilted his head. "What do you wish me to
do?"

"It would be nice for him to believe in something,
hence why I am sending you, Kurt."

Nightcrawler nodded. "Who?"

"He is in the infirmary. Only one there." Xavier
directed.

Nightcrawler nodded. Bampf! a black and white cloud of
smoke appeared as Kurt disappeared.

****

BAMPF!  Kurt appeared at the infirmary door in the
midst of a black and white smoke cloud.

Creed growled as he winced trying to retrieve a pillow
on the floor with out moving his legs or
losing his blanket.

Nightcrawler walked over to the bed and picked up the
pillow. He handed it to the only occupant
in the room.

Creed snatched the pillow and put it behind his head.
"I woulda got it sometime." He growled.

"Before or after you fell?" Kurt asked bemused.

Creed growled again.

Kurt sat down beside the bed. "How are you feeling?"
He asked not sure how to do what Xavier
had assigned him to.

"Like fucking hell,.." Creed paused looking at the
blue, fur covered X-Man, with black hair and a
tail. "What you doin' here fuzzy?"

Kurt took a leather bound used book of the Holy Bible.
He waved it beside Creed. "A little help
with recovery."

"Rrrrrah! Who needs help?!" Creed snapped. He was
lonely for company, Beast had hardly been
around since the last stitching. "No one cares if I
die or not. They would all rejoice when I kick
off."

Nightcrawler didn't press his preaching. He knew why
he was here, he was compassionate and
knew his enemy.
"God does" Kurt muttered testing Creed.

"God does what!?" Creed snapped.

"Cares, cares if you live and grieves if you die."
Kurt slowly stated.

Creed's mouth opened and closed slowly, wordlessly. He
wasn't sure how to respond.
"He don't show it." Creed finally said after several
seconds. He was really floored with the mere
notion.

"He has, many a time. But ignorance is best left to
those who do not understand or know what to
look for." Nightcrawler said, book waving in his three
fingers as he talked.

"Yeah? When?!?" Creed snapped.

"Now for one. You are in good hands. You are
surrounded by good people taking care of you."
Kurt said soothingly with his German accented voice.

Creed blinked looking at the blue fuzzy mutant. "Give
me that book!" He snapped snatching the
leather book out of Nightcrawler’s white gloved hand.

Kurt looked at Creed who only titled his head and
uninterestedly flipped the books flimsy pages.

"I don't see any answers." Creed finally said setting
the book on the monitor beside him, away
from Kurt.

Nightcrawler allowed himself a small victory. "You
must find your own answers. " Kurt paused
he noticed Creed eyeing the book.

Nightcrawler smiled. "I will be back later." With a
Bampf and a cloud of smoke containing a
sulphuric smell, the blue fuzzy was gone.

Creed picked up the book and started to read, flipping
over a few chapters .. books with in the
book.

********

Creed hadn't eaten or drank too much for two days. He
tried to avoid all possible things that
could possibly make him move his legs. Beast had left
him alone most of the day. Creed read and
slept... that was all he could do.

Bored, Creed counted the dots in the ceiling tiles
after finishing a thing about Israel, "Let my
people go" and Moses crossing a red sea, he was at one
thousand, three hundred and fifty five
when BAMPF! Smoke and Brimstone filled the spot that
was previously vacant before,
Nightcrawler appeared.

Creed jumped and looked at Kurt, then back at the
ceiling. "Fuck" he muttered then looked at
Kurt again.
"Lousy timing, Fuzzy, I was almost done the damn
tile!"

Kurt blinked as he held a shopping bag in each hand.
"Ja?" He started slowly. "Doing what to the tile?
Breathing on it?"

"Counting the dots, Fluff ball!" Creed snapped back.

Nightcrawler blinked "Why were you counting the dots
on a ceiling tile?"

"Because I am bored!" Creed snarled then noticed the
bags. "Whatchya got?"

Nightcrawler shook his head. "Clothes, thought you
might like some."

"Well..., my ass is kinda cold." Creed grinned.

Nightcrawler dug into the bags. Pulling out some
cotton sweat pants he took off the tags and
folded them on the chair beside Creed.

"Should be the right size." Creed raised an eyebrow.
Most of the pants were a gray or black. The
shirts on the other hand, one red flannel, one green
flannel, a black tank top, All of  them looked
pretty comfortable. "No jeans?" Creed growled annoyed.

"Hank said not to pick you up any." Kurt admitted.

"They look like they will... fit." Creed said slowly.
Rather liking them sort of. "I give, how ya pick
'em?"

Nightcrawler was silent for a second. "Logan" He
finally muttered.

Creed burst out laughing.

One bag was just fold over and put on top of the
others. Creed didn't bother to ask, he knew.


"Fuzzy can ya get me something?" Creed asked.

"Ja, what it be?"

"Darts. A bunch o' darts."

Kurt shrugged. "Ja, be back." With that and a Bampf!
Creed was left coughing in the smoke.

In a matter of minutes Kurt was back with a Bampf! 16
colorful darts were set beside Creed.
Kurt then noticed the red tassel hanging out from the
bible. He smiled. "I have to report to
Cyclops. I'll be back." Kurt said.

"Anytime." Creed said sorting out the darts, his voice
sincere.

Kurt walked out this time. The big steel door closing
behind him.

Creed hummed. "Danger room on this level I bet."

A blast of cold air hurled into the room from over
head air conditioners.
"HEY! Don't ya know enough NOT ta freeze a naked
man!?!" Creed shouted to the ceiling.  No
one heard him.
"Gawd dammed." Creed growled as he looked at the stuff
beside him.
"He's doin' that on purpose." Creed mused deciding to
blame it on Kurt. Awkwardly Creed sat up
and slid his legs over the side of the bed. He reached
for the clothes. He got everything on then
laid back down and slept.

**

Beast walked into the infirmary after spending a few
days in his lab. He noticed the darts around
the door and in the walls. Then the pile of clothing
on the chair by Creed along with a stack of
novels and more darts.

"Keeping busy, Kitty?" Beast asked walking up to
Creed.

Creed yawned "Ya, Fuzzy been dropping in now and
then." then turned his head as Beast came up
beside the bed.

"I am afraid I am going to have to examine you." Hank
said.

"Gonna be kinda hard." Kitty muttered sleepily.

"Why’s that?" Beast asked gathering up the discarded
blanket off the floor.

"I am too damn cold to get undressed now." Creed
growled. "N' yer not doing it either."

"If you are going to be this difficult I am going to
have to up the morphine." Beast said as he went
to reach for Creed's pants elastic.

Creed swatted Beasts hands away. "Ain't gonna let ya"
He growled.

"Alright." Beast said backing up. "Think about it."
With that Henry McCoy left the infirmary once
again.


Beast walked down the shinny steel hallway when he ran
into Logan.

"Logan. May I have a word with you?" Beast asked.

"Sure Hank." Wolverine cheerfully said. His costume
torn and drenched in sweat. He just came
out of the danger room.

"I need you to help me hold down Kitty." Beast said
turning on a heel walking to the infirmary
again.

"Why? He not letting you near him?" Logan asked
puzzled.

"I need to undress him, Logan. To check his wounds."
Beast said standing at the door.

Logan froze. "No way Beast. I help friends, and I help
friends move bodies, but be damned if I am
helping with stripping anyone!" Logan stalked past
Beast and down the hallway.

Beast hollered after Logan "I will let you continue
your feud if you do."

Logan stopped in his tracks, he walked back to Beast.

"Fine."

The two entered the infirmary.



Creed tossed a dart at Logan. "What ya doing here?"

Logan batted the dart aside, and popped his claws.
"Stripping you."

Creed went pale. His eyes widen, the scent of fear
filled the room.

Logan stopped. There was gripping fear in Creed's
eyes.

"Aww, come off it Logan.., I ain’t..." Creed started
to plead.

Logan grabbed Creed's wrists and laid down across
Creed's chest.  "Don't make me hurt you. Yer
still without yer healing factor" Logan whispered to
Creed.
Creed didn’t respond just looked wild and scared as he
felt Beasts hands touch him. Logan
smelled the fear and felt Creeds' heart rate increased
to a rapid pace. Creed started to thrash
around. Logan did his best to hold the large man down.

A loud snap sounded. Logan couldn't turn his head to
see what Beast was doing, but the way
Creed started to whimper gave him a clue it was
painful.

A second snap sounded. Creed closed his eyes and
whimpered rather then growled.
Logan swallowed. "Beast what are you doing?"

"I am putting some staples in, Logan." Hank replied
calmly.

A third snap.

Creed started to squirm.
"Jesus Christ Hank, hurry the hell up." Logan said,
then turned his attention to Creed.

A forth snap. Logan and Creed both flinched that time.
"Hey, almost done... come on Kitty ya been through
worse.” Logan started to sooth.

Creed rested his head on his shoulder. His oily hair
falling in his face. Logan didn't let go of
Creed’s arms, but lessened the weight off  his chest.

Beast moved back from Creed and discarded string and a
blood dotted cloth.  He then dressed
Creed again.
"Let him go Logan." Hank said.

Logan released Creed who didn’t even look up as Hank
started to rub his hair. Logan turned
around and walked out.

In the hall where Logan leaned his back against a wall
and took out a cigar from his costume's
belt. He snapped off the end and lit it with a strike
of his only match. Logan looked at the floor, a
cold shiver  ran over him as he realized just where
Hank was working on Creed. Logan walked
weakly down the hall heading for the elevator to take
him to his room for a hot shower.

Whoever got Creed down to do what ever to him..
there.. had ta of been ... Logan shook his head
not even wanting to think about it.

*****

Banshee walked into the infirmary. As soon as the door
open a dart struck him in the leg.
"AH! Lad what the?!?" Sean Cassidy started to yell as
he pulled the dart out of his leg. The
shallow puncture wound bleed.

"Knock next time, Irish." Creed snapped. He was
sitting up in his bed, back against the wall. The
wall in front of him was full of darts. Golden wavy
hair brushed Creed's shoulder.

"Boyo, been six months." Banshee said as he walked
past Creed.

"Six eh? Get me out of here and it won’t be any
longer." Creed growled.

Banshee opened a cabinet door and took out a packet of
band-aids. He took one out and then
rolled up his pant legging.

"No can do, Boyo." Cassidy chimed as he knew the
band-aid he just put on himself was going to
sting when it came off. Rolling down his pant leg
Banshee picked up the box of Band-aids and
strolled out.

"Irish, Get me more darts." Creed ordered.

"Pluck them off the wall." Banshee said as he neared
the door.

"Can't! Just get me more!" Creed hollered as the big
door closed. Creed sighed. He slowly got
down from the table and hobbled over to the wall.
Plucking the darts out of the wall he returned
to his cozy, cold bed.

*******

Kitty had heard the argument clear as a bell. The loud
shouting voices raged between Wolverine
and the one with laser eyes.

Creed chuckled as Wolverine growled, walking and
slamming every door possible, even doors not
made to be slammed. Laser eyes kept shouting
obscenities long after Wolverine had left. Creed
wished he still had his heighten hearing, He was
positive Wolverine had muttered things that laser
eyes couldn't hear.

After a few minutes the tall, brown haired man with
wrap around red shades walked into the
infirmary.

"Hey shade boy, got anything decent to eat?" Creed
asked as laser eyes stopped just a few feet
from the bed.

"No, I came to tell you, that Xavier and Beast have
agreed to place you somewhere else."
Cyclops said.

"Long as it isn't a jail cell, laser eyes." Creed
grunted.

"The name’s Cyclops, Kitty." Cyclops snapped.

"Fine, fine, Cyclops. Where am I going?" Creed asked.

"Upstairs." Cyclops said simply.

"Uh, you carrying me?" Creed muttered thinking of
stairs.

"Kurt will come an get you. Till then, Xavier wanted
you to mention anything on Magneto and
the Brotherhood to me." Cyclops said.

"Right, even if Magneto wasn't dead, like I would tell
a snot nose baby boy who still needs his
daddy to kiss his ass, like you. I don’t think so."
Creed growled.

Cyclops shook his head as he turned and walked back
out of the infirmary.


*******

Kurt had set up a bedroom in the X-Men hallway. It was
the last one at the very end of the
hallway, away from everyone else with no one on either
side. It was also small, a two by two foot
closet was directly behind the door, The only way to
get into it was if the door was closed. The
double bed was shoved in a niche under the window,
between the closet and the wall. A
few inches from the foot of the bed was a long
dresser. It took up the length of the other wall. At
the other end of the dresser, housed less then a foot
away, the bathroom door. It swung inside to
the bathroom. The bathroom was the length of the
bedroom, but only 1/4 the size. Inside the
brightly lit bathroom, white tiled floor and ceramic
tile walls glowed. The bathtub took up the
length of the same wall the dresser was on. From there
a foot from the tub, was the sink. Beside
the sink, the can, and a closet kitty corner from
there. There was no door on the bathroom closet,
just a bunch of shelves with towels and linen.

Kurt fluffed a navy blue bed spread on the double bed.
The gray walls didn't comfort him any, the
floor space would have been decent, but with the
treadmill in the middle of the room, made the
would-of-been more apparent.  You had to walk around
the big black thing. Some dumb bell
weights where in the corner of the room by the door,
you saw them once you walked in. Also on
the brown nylon carpet by the door was a folded up
stair master, leaning against the wall.

Kurt hung up some shirts in the closet and folded
Pants, putting them away in the dresser
drawers. Keeping the black curtains drawn,
Nightcrawler left the soon to be occupied room.

******

BAMPF! Smoke and an acidic smell flashed in the
infirmary. Nightcrawler appeared.

"DUCK!" Creed shouted.

Nightcrawler ducked just in time as something whooshed
above his head and landed in the wall
with a Thunk.  Nightcrawler stood up slowly and looked
at Creed.

"Shouldn't do dat Fuzzy. I almost got ya." Creed said.

Night Crawler turned around to see what he was almost
hit with.

In the wall right in front of Sabretooth’s bed, in
hundreds of dark pin holes in the white plaster
spelled.

GET ME THE HELL OUT OF HERE!

The explanation mark was made out of red, blue, green
and yellow darts. Kurt chuckled as he
looked back at Creed.
"Bored I take it?"

"Ya think?! What ya bring me today? Pop? Chocolates?
Candy?... porn mags?" Creed anxiously
asked.

"HAHAHAHHA! None of the above. Here to take you
someplace else." Kurt smiled. Creed
looked warily at him.

"You'll enjoy this." Kurt smiled as he already stole
everything of Creed's from here. Including the
rest of the darts that were not in the wall.

Creed slowly got down from his bed. His legs still
unable to be moved far apart, as the healing
skin was now tight and itchy, as scars crept onto
Creed's body.

Kurt Wagner took Creed by the wrist, "Hang tight.".

Beast walked in just in time to see, BAMPF! Creed and
Wagner disappeared in a smoke cloud.
Beast coughed as the lingering sulphur smell annoyed
him, as did the  fact that Creed had to be
examined again.

Creed felt like his body was turned inside out,
twisted then put all back together twice as cold and
nauseated.

Nightcrawler took a hold of Creed's arm keeping the
large man balance.

"Never do that to me again Fuzzy." Creed woozily
warned.

"Ja, No problem." Nightcrawler smirked. "Ja new room.
Warmer than a jail cell, but not as nice
looking."

Creed looked around. "This?" He asked a little
stunned.

"Ja, You asked for a warm place to sleep.  It’s warm,
it’s dark, and it’s not damp."

Creed looked down at the soft yellow eyes of
Nightcrawlers. "Thanks fuzzy. Ain't ya gonna get
inta trouble?"

"Kitty getting a conscience now?" Kurt joked. "Na,
Professor picked da room."

Creed nodded. "Nice digs." He looked around and
noticed the treadmill. "What’s that?" He asked.

"It’s a Treadmill. " Kurt said.

Creed rolled his eyes. "I know that, but why is it
here?"

"Beast wanted you to walk, but not wander in the
mansion." Kurt admitted.

"Oh," Creed muttered as he noticed the dumb bells
beside the stair master. "Trying to tell me
something fuzzy?"

Nightcrawler turned to look where Creed was. Blue lips
parted into a genuinely amused grin.
"Ja,"

Creed stopped smiling for a second and batted
Nightcrawler up side the head lightly in a playful
way. Blueish black hair fluffed up. The two smirked.

"I be back. Lunch time. Ja hungry?" Nightcrawler
asked.

"Soup." Creed ordered.

Bampf! Nightcrawler was gone.

****

Nightcrawler walked into the kitchen. It was packed
with the X-Men team all but Jean, Xavier
and Beast were present.

"I caught him reading the Bible." Bobby Drake laughed.
Logan laughed as he made a meat sandwich.

Banshee, Storm, and Cyclops stood around the stove as
they dished out the chicken noddle soup.
"The Professor wishes us to run a level 4 simulation
in the Danger room after lunch." Cyclops
said taking a bowl from Kurt.

"Us?" Banshee questioned watching Cyclops fill Kurt’s
bowl with soup.

"As a team." Cyclopes muttered giving the hot bowl to
Nightcrawler.

Logan turned his head watching Kurt make his own lunch
with a bowl of hot soup placed on a
plate, crackers, a spoon, and a slice of bread around
the bowl. "Extra hungry, Elf?" Logan asked
walking up beside his friend.

"No." Nightcrawler replied low.

Logan could smell Creed's scent on Kurt.

Before anyone could question Nightcrawler was gone
with a BAMPF!

Creed jumped when Kurt appeared in his room. "Dammit!
Use a door would ya?" Creed
complained.

"Couldn't knock." Nightcrawler smirked as he placed
the lunches on the dresser edge.

Creed sat down on the edge of his new warm bed and
started to eat. Nightcrawler sat on the
treadmill.
The two ate in silence, once done Creed tilted his
head looking at the X-Man.

"Ya know, I keep wondering why ya doin' this? Ain’t no
one been this nice ta me since some
broad thought I was loaded."

"Loaded?" Kurt questioned.

"Rich." Creed corrected himself.

"Aren't you?"

"That’s beside the point. I am asking you why."

Nightcrawler shrugged.

Creed tilted his head. "I want an answer sometime. Ya
think I could get a TV in here?" He asked.

"I'll check." Nightcrawler said. "I'll be back." With
a Bampf! Kurt left taking the empty dishes
with him.

*********

Creed found a new activity, reading the leather book
while walking on the treadmill.  It became
rather difficult to concentrate as he squinted at the
words on the page.

A knock sounded at his door. It had been a day since
Kurt brought him lunch.

Marking his place, he closed the book and slid off the
treadmill. He opened to door only to see,
Beast with medical supplies in his arms. The large
blue mutants face told Creed of his mood and
displeasure.

Creed went to open his mouth to say something but only
to be beaten to the vocabulary by Beast
as he shoved his way in.

"Take your clothes off and try not to scream." Hank
snapped as Creed shut the room door.

Creed growled but complied, he slowly peeled off his
new clothes as Hank unrolled a plastic
painting tarp in front of the dresser.

"Stand on the tarp." Beast instructed.

Creed growled as he braced himself against the
dresser, gripping the top.

Beast with surgical gloves on started to force Creed
to spread his legs. With each hiss the blond
man gave Hank pressed on, till blood started to drop
onto the tarp.

Creed cursed then bit his bottom lip feeling the knife
sinking into his skin, followed by the needle
and thread.

Creed lay on his bed and cried when it was over, Beast
gone along with any evidence.

Creed collected himself then proceeded into the
shower. He thought to himself as he ran his
fingers through his cream rinse filled hair,
untangling the knots.

'How long has it been? Months? Years? Weeks? Screech
boy said months, but how many days
passed since then?'

'I ain’t over it. I want to be. I am going to be, I
always am over everything. Why can't this slip
away like the rest?'

Creed stood under the shower-head, letting the soapy
substance wash out of his hair.

'And why the fuck am I liking it here so much!?
Wolverine is around here. I know it. I can hear
him growling at night. He can kill me so easily now.
Yet he hasn't.... what the fuck is
happening!?!'

A knock sounded on the bathroom door. Creed jumped,
his head clunked the shower head.
"OW FUCK!" Creed swore.

"Kitty in the water?" A voice called from the other
side of the door.

"The hell?" Creed snarled as he awkwardly got out of
the bathtub shutting the water off.
"Logan?" Creed growled as he wrapped a towel around
his waist and grabbed a smaller one
drying his hair.

The bathroom door opened and a dripping wet Creed
stood in the door way. "The hell you want?!
How the hell did you get in!?" He demanded.

Logan smirked as he eyed Creed deliberately and taking
notice of Creed's bruised legs. "Cut the
lock, your Tv's here. Just ta let you know." He mused.

Creed tilted his head slightly then looked beyond
Logan, there on a portable stand sat a TV with a
VCR and movies. "What movies?" Creed asked curious.
Logan smirked. "Find our yourself." There was a pause.
"Nightcrawler wasn't kidding. You have
changed."

Creed's head snapped looking down at Wolverine. Their
eyes locked. Fire burned in both of
theirs, but Logan found the intense flame that once
danced in Creed's black eyes were now over
shadowed with a new something he couldn't quite put a
claw on it.

"I haven’t changed!" Creed snarled as he slammed the
door on Logan's face.

Wolverine stared at the door. "You realize I can open
it can't you?" He said blankly.

There was a click, Creed locked the door. Logan
laughed as he walked out of the room, shutting
the door that could no longer lock.

Creed wandered out of the bathroom dressed in black
sweats after Logan left. He snarled and
looked at the lock on the room’s door.

*********

Bobby Drake wandered down the hallway. The very end
was lit up like a Christmas tree. Every
light was on and three flash lights were shining at
one door. Soft swearing rang down the empty
noon day hall.

Bobby walked up to the door. "Need anymore lights?" He
asked meekly trying to see who was
working on the other side of the door. Bobby could see
the someone was kneeled on the ground
holding a door knob in place while trying to screw it
into the wood of the door.

There was a grunt then "No. Just the right fucking
screw driver!" Creed spat.

Bobby looked at the scattered tools then the screws,
he picked up the Phillips and handed it to the
man.

"This help?" Bobby asked shyly not seeing who face was
on the other side.  A hand with long
pinkie and thumb nails snatched the screw driver,
after some slipping he finally said. "Works.
Good one.. uhm"  Creed peered around the wooden door.
Looking Bobby up and down he
furrowed his brows then went back to work. "Whoever ya
are." Creed muttered finishing the one
side.

"I'm Bobby Drake." Bobby said slowly recognizing the
face but not placing it.

"Well Drake, care to help out or stand there and gawk
like some two bit pansy?" Creed growled.

"I'll help." Bobby said picking up the other new knob
and a screw driver.

Bobby sat there helping the larger man work on the
door. They were done in a half an hour.
Creed cleaned up the mess while Drake put all the
lights away.

"You want anything to eat?" Drake asked as he stood
there watching the large man play with the
door, locking and unlocking it.

"Only if you bring it to me." Creed simply stated.

"Be back." Bobby said walking away.

When Drake returned with some tuna sandwiches and a
can of coke each, the hall way was
empty. He knocked on the door.

"Yeah, it’s open." Creed called as he uncurled himself
from the pillow he was hugging and sat up
on the bed.

Bobby walked in to see the man all cozy with the TV on
in front of him. Bobby sat down beside
Creed.
"What’s your name any ways?" Bobby asked.

Creed thought for a moment, hell not like anyone
didn't know.

"Kitty." Creed said simply grabbing the plate of food.


Bobby took half of a tuna sandwich before it was
whisked away.

Kitty handed Bobby the clicker. "Find something good
on. I can't find anything." He said before
taking a bit into a sandwich and chewing nosily.

Bobby got a sudden flash of Wolverine in his mind.
"You like chocolate?" Bobby asked. Kitty just
bobbed his head licking his fingers freeing them of
the mayo.

"I think I know you, but I can't place where." Bobby
said as he paused the channel on a
M*A*S*H rerun.

"That'll do." Kitty said, tuna and bread muffling his
speech.

Bobby waited for the man to swallow. "Ever been to
LA?" The young boy asked, his blue eyes
wandering over the large man.

"Not in the last five years." Kitty admitted as he
smirked at Klinger wearing a pink dress.

"You like that kind of thing?" Bobby asked noticing
who Kitty was smirking at.

"Nope. Just reminds me of the runt." Kitty said
finished the last sandwich.

"Who?"

"Wolverine."

"Really? The dark hair, right?" Bobby asked a little
confused.

"Yeah, and hell, ain’t ya ever seen Wolverine dressed
up in pink before?" Kitty chuckled, as he
remember one of his earlier hallucinations, while in
the infirmary heavily drugged.

"I didn't think he liked pink." Bobby muttered
blinking.

"Hell boy, Ya ain’t missing anything." Kitty said
watching the show.

"I miss a lot of things, Wolverine naked in the shower
would be one of them." Bobby said.

Kitty froze then looked at Bobby. "Pansy, don't make
me hurt ya."

"You ever fantasize about Wolverine?" Bobby asked
innocently.

Kitty, taking a sip of coke, choked, trying not to
spit it out. "That’s disgusting! I think about
ripping his guts out, cracking his head open, maybe
even stuffing him with high powered
explosives, but naked in the shower!!?!.. GET OUT!"
Creed roared as he picked up the empty
sandwich plate. "That's disturbing! And I killed more
people than you know!"

Bobby jumped up and ran out slamming the door as a
plate crashed against it, shattering the once
fine china.

Jean Grey walked up the stairs as Bobby flew past her.

~Bobby? What’s wrong?~ She asked him telepathically.

"Big angry mutant with claws!" Bobby shouted as he
found his way downstairs and into his class
room.

Jean tilted her head, red hair flipping to one side.
'I wonder what he did to get Wolverine mad.' she
thought to herself walking to Scott’s room.

*******

"This is what I was taking about Winchester, get your
rear in gear." Colonel Potter said in his
commanding voice from the glow of the TV.

"Colonel, I appreciate your need for speed, but I like
too get.. " The doctor Winchester tried to
exclaimed as he was bent over a patient on the ground.

"Let me put it this way. MOVE!" Potter snapped.

"You do have a way with words", Winchester muttered.

The show continued on with interruptions of
commercials.

Creed laid back in his bed, momentarily forgetting
about the glass by the recently fixed door. He
closed his eyes.


Darkness, pain, body feels like it’s on fire. Pain is
my soul, eyes burning with smoke. Can't
smell, nothing smells right, it’s all blood, breathe
through my mouth. Arms numb, cold.., legs ,
feet numb, pain, fire, cold dark.. water drips along
the walls..., can’t drink, not water.., Fire,
burning.., more pain, sounds, boots clipping the
cement floor in rhythm. Drops of wetness falling
from the black ceiling, squealing of a rusty metal
object. Eight of them in view. More behind,
twelve in all, hands, cold brutal hands, metal full of
rust against my skin., Fear, gripping fear
panic, pain of the rusty object affectionately being
dragged up and down both legs and flat
stomach. They start, grab my legs..., touch.. harsh
touches.. no.. it’s coming and it’s not pretty..

"Useless Kitty, never please a girl again" They
slander.

"He never could, useless Mutant fag, just a kitty."
They boast…

"Going to make sure you never please anyone, female or
male alike!" They warn.

Then they swear. No! It’s open, no! They have me
pinned, they have it placed, no! I scream, I
scream like I never have before, Pain, blood, Pain...,
, no! No! NO!!!

"RRRRRRRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!"
Creed jolted straight up,
his eyes wide, his claws gripping the wall and side of
the bed, his breathing rapid and uneven, his
heart races faster than an Indy500 car revs, fear
grips at his brain, his eyes unseeing anything but
the darkness, his body vibrating with the un forgotten
pain.


Wolverine jumped, falling out of his bed with a thud.
"What the fuck!?" He shouted, getting to his feet and
running out of his room not caring that he
was only in his boxers.

Nightcrawler opened his door alert, Bobby in the room
next to him peeked out the door as the
screaming stopped. Cyclops bolted down the hall,
Wolverine following.

"CREED! CREED!" Wolverine snarled slamming his fist
against the splintering wooden door, no
one answered.
Wolverine turned the knob, the door swung open,
ignoring the pain in his feet,  Logan charged in,
Cyclops followed.

Creed didn't move, he just sat there in shock shaking,
still dressed. "Get Beast!" Wolverine
ordered Scott, who didn't argue, he just turned and
ran out.

Wolverine touched Creed's shoulder. "Creed? Ya hearin’
me?"

Creed started to shake more, his body covered in
sweat, Logan could smell the fear in him, yet
Creed didn't respond.

Nightcrawler walked up beside Logan and looked at
Creed. "Kitty?" He softly whispered in his
German accent.

Beast ran into the room in time. His boxers not fully
buttoned up in the front. "Out." Beast
ordered everyone. Wolverine and Nightcrawler
reluctantly backed away.

"Both of you stay.. if you can stomach what’s about to
happen." Beast softly said to the two.
Wolverine walked over to the door and shut it.

"Get it over with Hank." Logan muttered standing by
the door.

"Kurt, sit beside Creed, if you don't mind." Beast
said going into the bathroom, he brought out
two towels. "He will either break down, or try and
kill something."

"Have fun." Wolverine muttered as he turned and walked
out. Before he reached his room’s door,
he heard Kitty's sobs.  They didn't let up for two
hours, and Wolverine laid awake listening,
wondering, actually caring. Finally cursing his over
sensitive hearing, he put a pillow over his
black hair, and fell asleep.

**

Kurt woke up late in the day. Slowly he opened his
eyes, only to see a neck, tilting his head up
slightly, he stared at Creed's peaceful slumbering
face.

Nightcrawler flicked his tail only to find it trapped
under Kitty's leg, along with one if his own
feet, the two were entangled. Sighing, the blue furred
mutant put his head back on Creed's
shoulder, unable to move his arm that was now under
Creed's back, even though it felt like pins
and needles, it was pinned good.

Nightcrawler sighed reflecting the past, light drifted
under the black curtains over the window,
possibly 8 hours now.

He been in the circus, he’d seen mobs against mutants,
but never had Kurt seen such a big, vicious
man brought down to a sobbing child before. Yet that
was what happened last night, Creed cried,
hugged Kurt like a teddy bear and cried. Kurt wondered
if Creed had ever done that before. Such
a mean S.O.B, yet what he changed into a helpless
kitty  cat  frightened Kurt. To have someone
bring down a killer, with out deadly force, it was
just a chilling thought. Wolverine had problems
with Weapon X, yet Creed only went insane with it, why
now? Why, Kurt’s thoughts were
interrupted when Creed rolled over on his side. Before
the crushing rib cage fell back on his arm,
Kurt moved his arm, along with his tail, but his leg
remained now... between Creeds legs.

"Creed?" Kurt muttered in the room’s dark stillness.
"Kitty you awake?"

"Mmfffph" Creed muttered, but his breathing remained
constant, he was still asleep.

"Wunderbar" Kurt sighed as he rested his head on the
corner of a pillow.

***

Wolverine wandered up to Creed's room. Beast had left
Kurt alone, and no one had seen anything
or heard anything all day. As the mid afternoon sun
started to slip behind clouds, Logan started to
worry. Creed wasn't stable, not mentally at least, and
now, hell who knows how he was mentally.
He could of hurt Kurt by now and no one would have
known.

Wolverine knocked on the door that hid Creed and
Nightcrawler behind it.

Creed slowly opened his eyes. All he could see was
blue. Shifting slightly Creed realized he was
looking at Nightcrawler then noticed Fuzzy cuddled up
to him, in his underwear. Creed blinked in
confusion.

Wolverine knocked again.

"Uhhhhh," Creed grunted looking over Kurt puzzled.
"Uhm who is it?" Creed blinked back the
sleep, looking at the blurry room.

"Guess, you decent?" Wolverines voice called through
the door.

"Am I ever?" Creed snarled looking at the blanket that
was covering his legs, grabbing the edge
he flipped it over Kurt. His cotton covered legs
relieved of the extra heat bearing down on them.
"What you want Runt?" Creed snarled.

Wolverine turned the unlocked door knob and walked
into the dark room, flicking on the light he
looked down hearing the crunch under foot. "Well I did
come here to see if you had killed
Nightcrawler or not." he muttered.

"I don't think I did. But beyond that... don't ask."
Creed muttered.

Wolverine's gaze wandered to the bed and then to Kurt
cuddled up to Creed. "I won’t."
Wolverine grunted then looked at the pieces of glass
on the floor. "What did you do?"

"Threw a plate at Bobby." Creed said trying to move
Kurt away from him, it didn't help, Kurt only
muttered then cuddled closer to Creed.

Wolverine cleared his throat as he watched Creed's
puzzled face. "Why?"

"Why what?" Creed asked looking back up at Logan and
then the off TV set.

"Why did you toss china at Bobby?"

"He asked if I fantasized about you in the shower."
Creed snarled, but it sounded less then an
animal, and more like a man’s poor imitation of a
beast.

Wolverine blinked. "Do you?"

A pillow hit Logan in the face. "Fuck no, I rather
kill you, or die myself!"

"That can be arranged." Logan growled like an animal
as he dropped the pillow on Creed’s head.

"Don't expect any miracles." Creed snarled, then
rubbed his eyes.

"Crying?"

"Eyes hurt."

"How long?"

"A while."

"I'll get Hank to check you out."

"NO! Anyone but him! I'll be nice to that red head!
Just not him!" Creed snapped much too
suddenly.

"Ok, ok..., I'll see what I can do." Wolverine said as
he walked out turning out the light.

As Wolverine walked away he heard a loud THUMP, then
soft German curses followed by an
angry Creed snarling.

"Don't cuddle with me, or next time I rip your head
off. How did ya get in my room any ways?"

*********


Jean sat on a chair in her sub-level laboratory. She
set a pair of feather weights into thin gold
frames. Putting them in a hard blue case, she picked
up a hard green case that held half moon
black frame bi-focal and a pair of scissors, Jean
headed up to her patient.

****************

In a lavish Victorian style room, complete with
ancient oriental rugs, decorations, and tapestries.
Three people sat around a small antique wooden table
with matching chairs.

"It took you long enough to return Mystique. Any
word?" A man who fancied himself as a realist
and savior to all mutant kind asked one of his
minions.

"None Magneto, Genosha doesn't have any records of
Sabretooth what so ever.  The only record
they had remotely close to Creed, was a mutant named
Kitty, who was rescued by the X-Men."
Replied Mystique, a blue skinned, red head who could
shape shift into any form.

"Kitty? Where you get this info, Mystique?" Toad, a
man with well formed legs for leaping large
distances asked.

"Where else? Zeekieal’s office." Mystique snarled as
she took a sip from the rippled edge tea cup.

"How is he for any type of a pawn?" Magneto asked
lifting the long spouted tea pot.

"Unless you’re tall, thin, blond, and brainless with
"blow jobs" as the top skill on your resume,  he
won’t look at you." Mystique said as she watched her
employer fill Toad’s cup.

"Wow a blond blow job? Would I love to be a fly on
that wall." Toad joked nodding his thanks to
Magneto.

"Shut up Toad. I was a fly on that wall." Mystique
snapped.

"Really? How you taste?" Toad asked thinking about the
flies he had for lunch.

Mystique reached over with tea cup in hand. Politely
she dumped the hot contents into Toads lap.

"AHH!!!!!"  Toad screamed pushing back his chair, he
leapt for the door. With a *WHAMP* the
door slammed shut.

"Wonderful tea, Erik." Mystique complimented as he
filled her cup back up.

"Thank you, Raven." Magneto said as he put the tea pot
down once more. "Raven, you realize
that without Sabretooth...."

"I know Magneto, I know."

"It’s been three years now. I put my plans off for
three years because of him. Everything was fine
until we went to that damn bar to celebrate our plan
and now..." Magneto let his voice trail as he
stared at the cups light brown contents.

"Yes, but you have gained so much and accomplished far
more than you would have with him.
Look at all the new Mutants you recruited."

"Yes, I suppose. You are right Mystique, but my one
plan still calls for that brute’s rages, the
perfect distraction to keep the X-Men off my back."

"Have you thought of using someone else?"

"Of course, I may just have you fill in that blank
spot. Everyone else has already been appointed
and far too in-depth with their projects to be hauled
off."

"If I must I must, but I demand a baby sitter!"
Mystique snapped putting her cup down.

"Yes of course, you wouldn't want your.... darling...,
little monster to fall into the wrong hands,
now would you?"

"No we wouldn't"

"Why we?"

"I shall be decorating the halls with your balls if
she falls into the wrong hands."

"What a pleasant picture for the holiday Mystique,
thank you."

"My pleasure." She sneered.

                      **********************

                            End Part 4
                            TBC Part 5



Whipblade 2002










=====
My life is a puzzle. Picking up the pieces is simple, trying to fit those pieces
together is a diffrent matter all together.

__________________________________________________
Do You Yahoo!?
LAUNCH - Your Yahoo! Music Experience
http://launch.yahoo.com

Title: Who you callin' unhealthy?!
Author: Lisea@...
Author's website: Http://www.angelfire.com/de2/TTO
Pairing: S/J, Kitty
Rating: PG-ish, a few naughty words, nothing you can't handle :-)
Summary: Kitty takes extreme measures of getting Jean out of her
way...
Notes: This fic contains 80% sillyfic, 10% lack of sleep and another
10% coffee.
This hasn't been beta-read yet.

***

Dear Diary,

Today was the 2nd anniversary of my first meeting with Scott Summers.
I remember coming to the mansion in a cab and there he was, waiting
for me at the top of the stairs. He came down, opened the back door of
the cab. Then he smiled at me, said hello, and promised me he'd show
me around once I was done with Professor Xavier.

I also remember getting lost constantly over a week because instead of
listening to him, I had been busy staring at his ass. Not a bad
bargain, though.

At the time, I had no idea Scott was seeing Ms. B... Ooops, I mean Ms.
Grey. She came flouncing at the mansion a few weeks later than I did.
I watched her drape herself on *My* Scott and doing an uncanny
imitation of a mating leech.

Scott told me later that Ms. Grey was going to teach us biology. But I
wanted *him* to teach me biology! Privately. In my bedroom. Or his,
he's got a king-sized bed.

As you can guess, I never paid much attention in Ms. Grey's class. I
was too busy poking needles in my Jean-Grey-lookalike voodoo doll. I
got Scott to tutor me, tough. The universe loves me.

Anyway, it's late, and I can hardly keep my eyes open. The only reason
I'm up this late is that Scott will always check the student's rooms
after lights-out. He's late today, no doubt playing with that little
slut in his room.

Footsteps. Finally. I'll just hide my diary, open my math book and
pretend to have fallen asleep on it...

***

Dear Diary,

My plan worked like I'd never dreamed of. I thought he'd just wake me
up and tell me to go to bed, but instead, he lifted me up on his arms,
took me to my bed, laid me down, tucked me in and before turning off
the bedside light, he kissed me on the forehead. Before he shut the
door to my room I carefully cracked my eye open and took a good look
at his behind. That back, that ass....

Suffice it to say that the NC-17 rating wouldn't have done justice to
my dreams last night. They probably would have sent Logan screaming
for the hills.

Anyway, I'm off to class. Scott always smiles at me when I show up in
his class, as I'm always the first one there. Oh, I could tell you my
millions of fantasies of those five minutes before the others show
up...

***

Dear Diary,

An opportunity to spend more time with Scott presented itself today
when Scott was planning on taking Jean to a movie. Jean had to cancel
her plans, when she got sick after dinner. And since he was already
taken the car out of the garage, I told him I wouldn't mind seeing
that movie myself. So me and Scott went to the movie I had seen three
times before, while Jean lay sick in her bed.

How was I to know Jean was allergic to garlic?

What do you mean I wasn't supposed to be in the kitchen at all?

***

Dear Diary,

Oh, I'm so glad I got you back from that conniving little witch!

While Scott and I were enjoying ourselves at the movies, she had snuck
in my room and stolen you! My poor baby.

She was sitting in a chair in my room when I got back, and threatened
to show you to Scott, if I didn't get my mind off him.

I responded in kind by phasing into Scott's room, getting you back
from her nightstand (she really is as dumb as a post), then stealing
her diary. I then visited the school's copy machine, copied the diary,
especially one page where she told, in detail, of a night when she
snuck in Logan's room.

And I thought my fantasies were dirty.

And that infamous page ended up on the school notice board, enlarged.

It would have been interesting to see what would've happened if she
hadn't got to it before anyone else did. Too bad she missed the copy I
had left on Scott desk in his office.

***
Dear Diary,

Scott was 20 minutes late for class this morning. I went by his office
later this afternoon and it looked like a hurricane had hit it. Jean
came down the hallway, looking terrible. My inner bitch cheered.

I would've offered Scott my shoulder to cry on, but he took off on his
bike before I had the chance.

Note to self: Camp out in the garage until he comes back. And remember
to pack strawberries and whipped cream for dinner.

***

Dear Diary,

Nothing's getting that leech out of his room! Scott had come back late
last night, and they'd apparently talked everything through. Scott was
satisfied after she assured him that sleeping with Logan had been only
a one time thing, that would never happen again.

Imagine all the things you can hear when you open the ventilation
shaft hatch upstairs just so.

While Jean was moving her things back from the guestroom back into
Scott's room, a chair 'accidentally' wound up against her door.

And with Jean locked in her room, I finally made my move on Scott.

I went into his office, where my target was unsuspectingly grading
papers. I locked the door behind me as he watched, not sure what was
going on. Then I pulled my short black dress over my head, tossing it
on the floor behind me. His cheeks flushed when he noticed I had
nothing underneath the dress.

Then he came over me, put his own cardigan over my shoulders. He
probably didn't want me to get cold.  How sweet of him.

He took my to my room, made me promise to stay there, and left my
room. He even locked the door, just in case. He's probably run out of
condoms. He'll be back any minute. Any minute now.

***

The next thing Kitty knew was that she was in the medlab. The
Professor, Scott and Jean were all staring at her.

"I'm sorry, professor, but this can't continue! You'll have to do
something to her" Scott said.

"Maybe you could have a threesome?" the Professor suggested. Scott
gave him 'The Glare'. "And don't give me the pre-heat stare, it won't
work on me."

"Professor, fry her brains out. Make her forget Scott!" Jean was
crying. "She's been so mean to me! Get in her mind and make her stay
away from him!"

"But I don't want to!"

"Do it!"

"No!"

"Do it or I'll glue a wig on you!"

"Scott, Jean's being mean to me. Blast her. That's an order!"

"Jean, stop teasing the Professor or I'll elope with Kitty. Professor,
get in Kitty's mind or I'll help Jean with the glue."

The Professor sighed. "Fine. What do you want me to do?"

"Do that thing you do where you make them radically change their
behavior" Jean suggested.

"Oh that thing" the Professor said, then wheeled behind Kitty, put his
hand on her temple, and used the other hand to hit her in the head
with a frying pan.

***

Dear Diary.

I did all my homework in schedule today, and went over tomorrow's
lesson, just in case. Mr. Summers told me I'm one of his best
students. But sometimes I catch him looking at me funny.

I think Mr. Summers has a crush on me.

Well, we've all got issues.

Title: Territorial Disputes
Author: Lisea@...
Author's website: Http://www.angelfire.com/de2/TTO
Pairing: S/J (Fixated? Me?! You're kidding me....:-)
Rating: R for language
Summary: Someone else has eyes for Scott. And something else, too...
Notes: Sappy. Sappy, sappy, sappy. You've been warned.
Ths hasn't been beta-read yet.


***

I curse the day she came here.

Oh, excuse me. Her name is Betsy, a young mutant, in her mid-twenties.
Long blond her all the way down to her waist. Which is funny, Scott
doesn't like blonds. Or so he said.

About a week ago she came here with Scott and Storm. When she was
playing a good little guinea pig while I was running my tests on her,
she was looking at Scott, who was standing behind my shoulder. The
little bitchette was giving him a hard-on.

I walked towards his office one day, hoping she wouldn't be there. She
had made a hobby out of hanging around in Scott's office, and she
never had a reason for it. So I opened the door.

They were fucking each other on his desk like there was no tomorrow.
Scott saw me by the door, and pushed himself off her. "Jean, I..."

I could have sworn I saw a grin of victory on her face.

I stepped out of the doorway and into the hallway, slamming the door
as hard as I could, with a little help of my telekinesis.

Scott found me in our room later, sitting in an over-stuffed chair by
the window. I had my knees drawn up against my chest, and my arms
around me. I was rocking myself back and forth, almost automatically.

Scott knelt in front of me. "Jean, I'm sorry. I don't know what came
over me. I didn't mean to have sex with her. I don't know what
happened."

I was quiet, turning the ring in my finger. "You're not getting it
back" I told him. He looked at the ring. "I'm keeping the ring. You're
not getting it."

It wasn't the ring itself that mattered. Come to think of it, it's a
very boring ring. Standard gold band with a standard diamond.

It's the inscription inside that mattered. 'Property of Scott
Summers'.

It's a joke between us. It was adorable. He was nervous when he gave
it to me, didn't know what I would think of it. I loved it on the
spot. I had shown him how much, too.

"I don't want it back. It's yours. *I'm* yours" he looked so honest,
so I burst into laughter.

Two weeks after he had knelt in front of me in our bedroom, he started
sleeping in her room over the nights. He came be our room in the
mornings, just to take a shower and change his clothes. He didn't say
a word to me anymore, 'I'm sorry' had long since worn out.

The whole situation was weird. Scott still loved me, I *felt* it in
him. But somehow, that conniving bitch upstairs had lured him into her
bed every night for the past week. I tried to probe her once, but she
had a shield bigger than the Berlin wall. So had Scott every time she
was with her.

***

*Jean, the team is back. Scott's hurt, we need you in the medlab* the
Professor's voice echoed in my head, shaking me out of my reverie.

*I'll be right there.*

I took off towards the medlab, glancing at the Blackbird setting down
in the hangar through the basketball court. The wooden floor under my
feet was shaking slightly.

Logan was laying Scott down on the biobed in the medlab when I got
there. He was unconcious, with a bad wound on his side, another on his
forehead, just above his visor. "What happened?"

"Sabertooth was there waiting for us" Logan said. About an hour
earlier, he had probably looked even worse than Scott. Now he didn't
have a mark on him.

"Get out of here. I need room" I told everyone, and started to work on
Scott.

As the team was leaving the lab, Betsy came in. "What happened? Is he
okay?" She was hovering over Scott, and in my way.

"Betsy, get out!"

Betsy just sat by the bed, leaned over him and just stared at him.

Pissed off, I grabbed her arm, yanked her up from the bed and slapped
her face. "Get out. I'm trying to work."

Betsy prepared to return the blow, when Logan hauled her over his
shoulder. "Save the kid, Jeannie. She won't bother you, I promise"
Logan said, walking out of the medlab with a violently kicking woman
over his shoulder.

***
Scott was unconcious for three days. I sat with him constantly, alone,
occasionally reminding myself to thank Logan for keeping Betsy out.
Sometimes I can hear them yelling at each other behind the lab door.

"Jean" Scott said weakly, with a little points of red light in his
glasses.

"Hey. How are you feeling?"

"Like I had a run-in with Sabertooth. What happened?"

"You had a run-in with Sabertooth" I said with a smile. Scott tried to
laugh, but all he could manage was to give himself a coughing fit.

After a few silent minutes, he spoke up again. "I'm sorry. I never
meant to hurt you. I love you."

I looked up at him. " You've been telling me that a lot lately."

"I mean it. I don't want to hurt you. I just can't help it. I keep
ending up in her bed. It's like my heart is telling me one thing, and
my cock another" he said softly, stroking my cheek. I pressed my hand
over his.

I gently pushed myself into his mind, and he let me. I looked around
the feeling in his mind, and noticed he really did meant what he had
said. He loved *me*. He didn't love Betsy. Didn't feel a thing for
her, actually. I don't get it.

"Am I interrupting something?" the Professor said. He had just wheeled
in the medlab. I smiled up at him, felt Scott do the same.

"How did you get past Betsy and Logan?" I asked.

"He clubbed unconcious, after getting tired of her yelling at him. He
assured me he didn't do any permanent damage."

"Shame" I muttered under my breath.

"How are you feeling, Scott?" the Professor wheeled in closer.

"I'm better" he said, while I felt him cross his fingers on the hand
against my cheek, unnoticed by the professor. That made me giggle.

Betsy came rushing in. She stopped between Scott's bed and the door,
giving me an icy glance. Then I felt it.

While I was still in Scott's mind, I felt her snake her way in, too.
Changing how he felt about me, turning it towards her. She was
*making* him lust after her!

"You're an empath. You're a *Fucking* empath!" I screamed at her,
throwing at her the first thing I could get my hands on. A metal tray
of test tubes and needles.

"Jean?" the Professor asked me, clearly confused.

"She worms her way into his head and brainwashes him to sleep with
her!" I was so angry I couldn't see straight.

"Is this true?" the Professor asked Betsy.

"No! She's crazy!"

"Scott?" the Professor asked for a permission to scan his mind. While
Scott nodded, I felt Betsy pull back from Scott's mind. But the
Professor could still sense her effects, even it was done a month ago.
Psychic attacks always leave trails behind. And the Professor knows
one when he sees one. He pulled himself out of Scott's mind, and
looked at Betsy. And boy, was he pissed off.

"I want you to leave the mansion as quickly as possible. I never want
to see you again. Logan, will you help her pack?" the Professor's
voice was shaking with anger. Logan grabbed her by her arm and hauled
her out of the room. I still felt her pressing against Scott's mind,
trying to convince him  to come with her.

But now that I knew what I was up against, I blocked her from him.
*Get away from him. He's mine!* I sent her, hoping the message was
strong enough to fry her brain. Cliché, I know, but it told her
exactly how I felt.

"She made me sleep with her?" Scott asked, shaken. He didn't like the
thought of loosing control of himself.

"Don't worry. It wasn't your fault. It won't happen again" I kissed
his forehead for emphasis. I gently tried to pull back from his mind,
now that the threat had passed.

"Don't" Scott said, touching my face, "I like it. Stay."

I didn't object, because I had started to feel comfortable in his
mind, completely blended.

***

One week later we were sitting outside, Scott leaning his back against
my chest. We had an old wool blanket over our feet, and were watching
the kids playing soccer. Scott was more quiet than usual.

"Get over it, Summers" I whisper in his ear, "it wasn't your fault."

"That's not what I was thinking" he said.

"Oh, yes it was," I said to him, tapping his temple with my finger,
"You've done enough guilt tripping for a lifetime."

He chuckled. "Alright, maybe I was thinking about her. But something
else, too."

I waited him to continue for a few seconds. "You gonna tell me?"

"I want us to set a date."

If I'd been eating something, I'd be choking on it. "You want to get
married?"

"Yes. If you'll still have me."

"Yes, Mr. Summers, I will have you" I said to him, kissed his ear
because it was the only part of him I could reach from where I was
sitting. He turned around and kissed me on the lips, not noticing that
the kids had been distracted from their soccer game and were
applauding and whistling at us.

And some weird voice in the back of my mind told me I should invite
Betsy to the wedding, just to rub it in. He was mine, and was going to
be mine for a very long time to come.

Title:  See above

Author: Autumn

E-mail:  inmate12@...

Rating:  PG-13

Genearl/Parody

Notes:  Heheh back for more.  Needed the foof after so much ANGST!!
So just a quick little thingy here.....



Disclaimer:  The characters are not mine, neither are the words,  in
fact all I did was take phrases from the movie, and stick them into
other inappropriate places......
____________________________________

The Truck........

"Get out."

"The first boy I ever kissed was in a coma for three weeks."

"Aggghhhh  (choked scream)"

"It was an accident."

"You're a dick."

______________________________________


SOL.........

Roge screaming inside the death trap: AGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!"

"We've gotta get her out of there.

"She's allright, she's just upset."


______________________________________


Storm's Classroom, held in Cerebro:  (The Deleted Scene)


Storm: "Do you know what happens to a toad when it's struck by
lightening?"

St. John "Well, his entire body is laced with antemantuim.  It's been
grafted to his entire skeleton....."

Bobby: "I think I have a pretty good idea."

Storm: "Shall I demonstrate?"


Rogue: "A bolt of lightening into huge a copper conductor?  I thought
this was a school."

__________________________________


On the Train....

"You must be the Wolverine"

"My heart belongs to someone else."

"The war is comeing."

"Get out."

"Do you really think you can stop me?"

*Snikt*

"Young people."





*******************************
From Frydrakken:

Don't think I've ever read a single fic of Autumn's. Hearing people talking
about preferring to gouge their own eyes out rather than read another of her
stories is a pretty good anti-recommendation, mind you.


_________________________________________________________________
Join the world’s largest e-mail service with MSN Hotmail.
http://www.hotmail.com

This is to let anyone know who's interested that the HTML version of
Chapter Five of ACCIDENTAL INTERCEPTION OF FATE, with images, is
finally uploaded.  Chapter 6, "Fallout," is half complete.

http://www.greymalkinlane.com/min/aiof5.html

--Min

__________________________________________________
Do You Yahoo!?
LAUNCH - Your Yahoo! Music Experience
http://launch.yahoo.com

Title:  And All that Could Have Been

Author:  Autumn

E-mail: dyslexic_crisco_penguin_fiend@...

Catagorey:  Heavy angst, have a piece of foof around in a convenient
location.

Author's notes:  The title comes from a wonderful live Nine Inch
Nails album.
____________________________________________

The fragments of life slither away
Crumpled up, turned to dust
and left beyond decay

Each piece a constant reminder
of what might have been
contrasted aginst the reality

of it all

Shiney, happy people
simply do not exist
in this twisted world of ours

Delusuons of grandur and excess
have no place here
inside the grey

You were there while
I was here
simple as that, case closed

The telephone is a marvel
a useful invention indeed
bearing all nees

even the bad

Her departure sealed
with fiberoptics and cable
1,000 miles away

Not even a kiss
to her lover, her fiance
her friends or family

The sting of it all
centred around anger
clouded by 'should have knowns'

His gruffness mistaken
for kindness hidden
beneath layers of flanel

never again

A healthy dose
of the way things are
and what we cannot change

We turn to dreams
to deny what is
and continue the fantasy

To live in our heads
the world watching
passing by, without a care

Reason banished
replaced by insanity
and other just things

Replacement killers
slaughter, and carnage
tangeld in the illusion of love

which doesn't exist

Like shiney, happy poeple
they all fade eventually
the tatters of fantsy broken

Easier to believe
in what you want
versus what you need

Everybody needs
another somebody
or so it says

In books, movies
Cosmo, television
a completment to our own self

A continuaiton
if you will
but you won't and don't

Not even to try
just a little bit
access denied, game over

She doesn't love
you
and you don't even care

She makes you
I don't know
in the dead of the night

Dead nights, and days
taken away
by the magic of perception

it's real and not

It could be differnt
in some ways
had a chance been taken

Happiness and health
in this unperfect world
with the delusioned people

Lust won out
as usual
why does it fail to surprise

It could have been
should have been
but plans fall apart

lives and stories end

Too late for that
the hour has passed
and alone I shall die

We're never truly alone
in here
but it feels like we are always

I can't let go
surrender the fantasy
it's larger than me

It could have changed
or just slightly rearange
change the key, remix it somehow

In the end
we are not us
and never will have been

though in my head

Dreaming, hallucination
stems from the same place
our deepest, darkest wishes

I have but one
untold by large
simple and secret, spilled

You
and me
And all that could have been





*******************************
From Frydrakken:

Don't think I've ever read a single fic of Autumn's. Hearing people talking
about preferring to gouge their own eyes out rather than read another of her
stories is a pretty good anti-recommendation, mind you.


_________________________________________________________________
Chat with friends online, try MSN Messenger: http://messenger.msn.com

Title:  See above

Author: Autumn

E-mail:  inmate12@...

Notes:  Heheh back for more.  Needed the foof after so much ANGST!!
So just a quick little thingy here.....


Disclaimer:  The characters are not mine, neither are the words,  in
fact all I did was take phrases from the movie, and stick them into
other inappropriate places......
____________________________________

The Truck........

"Get out."

"The first boy I ever kissed was in a coma for three weeks."

"Aggghhhh  (choked scream)"

"It was an accident."

"You're a dick."

______________________________________


SOL.........

Roge screaming inside the death trap: AGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!"

"We've gotta get her out of there.

"She's allright, she's just upset."


______________________________________


Storm's Classroom, held in Cerebro:  (The Deleted Scene)


Storm: "Do you know what happens to a toad when it's struck by
lightening?"

St. John "Well, his entire body is laced with antemantuim.  It's been
grafted to his entire skeleton....."

Bobby: "I think I have a pretty good idea."

Storm: "Shall I demonstrate?"


Rogue: "A bolt of lightening into huge a copper conductor?  I thought
this was a school."

__________________________________


On the Train....

"You must be the Wolverine"

"My heart belongs to someone else."

"The war is comeing."

"Get out."

"Do you really think you can stop me?"

*Snikt*

"Young people."





*******************************
From Frydrakken:

Don't think I've ever read a single fic of Autumn's. Hearing people talking
about preferring to gouge their own eyes out rather than read another of her
stories is a pretty good anti-recommendation, mind you.


_________________________________________________________________
Chat with friends online, try MSN Messenger: http://messenger.msn.com

Through The Ages We Love
By Nadja Lee 28/02/02

English is not my native language. Please forgive me my mistakes.

Disclaimer: “X-men” and all the characters here belong to Marvel, 20 Century Fox
and I intend no infringement, this is a piece of amateur fan fiction, and I make
no money of it.

Disclaimer: “Highlander” and all the characters here belong to Davis/Panzer and
I intend no infringement, this is a piece of amateur fan fiction, and I make no
money of it.

Only the original idea contained within this work is the property of the author.
Please do not copy this story to any website or archive without permission of
the author.

Timeline: Set after the X-men movie and after the Highlander episode
Methuselah’s Gift.

Universe: Set in the X-men movie universe and Highlander series universe.

Pairing: Logan/Rogue, Methos/Alexa, Methos/Cassandra, Scott/Ororo,

Summary: Methos’s past comes back to haunt him. When Alexa is kidnapped and
Methos see no other choice than rejoin his old ‘friend’ Kronos…….is his hope
that Logan can save the woman he love if not himself justified?

Archiving: Want, ASK, take, have.

Feedback: Yes, please. My e-mail address is nadjalee@...

Rating: R

Series/sequel: This story is a sequel to “Through The Ages We Change”. Part 4 in
“Through The Ages….” series.

Dedicated to: Sorcieré with love.

Special thanks to Bani for the Cherokee. I’m so sorry you never got to see me
use it. Never forgotten; always close in thought. Rest in peace, lov.

Note: This is a crossover between X-men movie universe and the Highlander series
universe…Like you hadn’t figured that out already *LOL*. You don’t need to know
anything at all about Highlander to follow this story.

  Things in //mmmmmmm// means flashback.



  Part 1:

”I’m home,” Methos announced cheerfully as he entered the house he had brought
for himself and his wife through 14 years now. A few months ago they had moved
to Spain, close to the shoreline, as Alexa loved the ocean. It was wonderful
after so many years to be able to come home to someone, to feel loved. It was a
rare thing and just the fact that she was near him could make him smile if he
didn’t catch himself.

“Alexa?” he asked again when she didn’t come to great him like she normally did.
He had brought flowers to her on his way home from work and had looked forth to
seeing her face light up in a smile and receiving the kiss he was sure she’ll
award him with. He frowned. Where was she? Beginning to worry he went towards
the kitchen. His heart almost stilled when he saw broken pieces of plates and
glasses on the floor. The mess in the kitchen clearly suggested a fight had
taken place. Oh, God. He had left her here thinking she was safe. What if she
was…no, he wouldn’t even think it. Alexa was alive. She had to be. There was no
reason to kidnap her if all his enemy wanted was her death. Neither Alexa nor
Adam Pierson had any enemies so his opponent had to be Immortal. Cassandra? No,
it wasn’t her style. Cautious, Methos scanned the room for any uninvited guests
but couldn’t see or feel anyone. He laid the flowers he had brought for Alexa on
the kitchen table and went towards the phone. He knew a few people who might be
willing to help him and if not…he had to get her back one way or another.
Suddenly, he felt the familiar tingling in his brain indicating another Immortal
was near. Quickly Methos drew his sword and scanned the room.

“Show yourself,” he demanded, his sword at the ready as he went into the
livingroom. Suddenly, out from nowhere a shot was fired, hitting Methos in the
chest. He looked shocked around. He had to stay awake; he had to live…for
Alexa’s sake. If he died now he’ll be valuable and his opponent could easily
take his head. His breaths came in deep, painful gasps and he was losing hold on
reality.

“Greetings…brother,” a tall man with a long scar down his face said, a deadly
smile on his face as he appeared from the shadows, the gun he had fired in one
hand and a sword in the other.

“Kronos,” Methos gashed surprised. He had thought he was dead. He was supposed
to be dead. If he had Alexa…he remembered Cassandra and how she’ll rather die a
1000th deaths than stay with them. Please, don’t let him have her, Methos
thought desperately before the pain became too intense and he fell to his knees.
He couldn’t die. He had to…had to…without warning and against his will darkness
claimed him and he died.

“I’ve missed you too, brother,” Kronos said deadly.



Part 2:

Methos fought the darkness back to consciousness. What had happened? Where was
he?

“Alexa?” he mumbled and opened his eyes to see an abandoned warehouse. Suddenly
the day’s events all came floating back to him. Alexa was in danger. He tried to
sit up but flinched in pain.

“Finally awake,” Kronos said and kneeled down besides him so he could see his
face. “How do you feel?”

“Like I was shot through the heart. How do you think I feel?” Methos snapped and
forced himself to sit up and with the support of a nearby wall came to his feet.
Kronos stood and walked around him.

“I think you’ve not used to pain anymore. What happened? You’ve gotten soft,
brother?” Kronos asked with a leer, a dangerous gleam in his eyes.

“I just passed through my angry adolescence phase a little quicker than you,
Kronos,” Methos answered darkly, his eyes scanning the building for signs of
Alexa. Maybe Kronos didn’t have her but if he didn’t…then there was another
Immortal out there.

“For a long time I thought you were dead. I didn’t bother to look for you. Then
I heard rumours: Methos, the world’s oldest man. You slipped up there, old
friend. You got sloppy,” Kronos taunted. Methos shot daggers at him with his
eyes. How dared he call him friend? Why couldn’t the past ever die?

“Well, none of us is perfect,” Methos merely answered, having finally gotten his
breath and posture back so he stood a little away from the wall to indicate he
wasn’t as weak as Kronos might think. This beating around the bush was beginning
to strain on his nerves; all he wanted to know was if Alexa was safe.

“I shouldn't be surprised you're still alive. You were always the one I counted
on. You weren't the strongest or the toughest, but you were the survivor. It's
what you do best,” Kronos walked around Methos who purposely didn’t follow him
with his eyes. He knew this technique well, had been on both the giving and
receiving end of it and refused to be baited.

“Only the good die young,” Methos remarked, his thoughts on Immortals and
mortals alike he had known who had had a strong sense of honour…..and who had
all died for their effects.

“Or did,” Kronos added as if Methos hadn’t spoken and stopped before him. Oh,
great…who needs enemies with friends like these? Methos thought darkly.

“So you’ve come to kill me,” Methos guessed. Who in their right minds would
search for you for 3000 years and then kill you when they finally found you?
Talk about obsession.

Kronos laughed mercilessly.

“It's what I do best!” he said with a big grin and Methos nodded grimly. Yeah,
he knew all about it.

  “I don’t suppose you have a reason for wanting me dead?” Methos asked, trying
to gain time to figure out a plan. Should he mention Alexa? If Kronos had taken
her he’ll use her against him and if not…. he’ll find her and then use her
against him. It was a losing game either way.

“When did I ever need a reason?” Kronos asked surprised but then his eyes
narrowed. “But if you insist how about betrayal, disobeying me… trying to kill
me. Take a pick,” Kronos stopped before Methos, their eyes meeting.

“Is there a door number two?”

“Yes, you do have a choice,” Kronos admitted and Methos drew a relived breath.
Dying wasn’t on his ‘to do’ list for a great many years to come.

“Oh, I'm all for choices.”

“Well, you can either lose your head, or you can join me,” Kronos offered.
Methos didn’t have to think long about that. He forced a smile.

“Well, since you put it that way, welcome back, brother,” Methos tried to
pretend the word ‘brother’ didn’t bring a bitter taste to his tongue.

“You don’t seem eager to take up the old ways,” Kronos remarked and went to a
nearly table in the building, his back turned to Methos as he studied some maps
and charts. Methos followed quietly, taking his sword forth.

“You take a risk trusting me,” Methos remarked casually, coming closer to
Kronos’s turned back, his sword raised.

“A lot of time has passed since we rode together. I have to be sure if I can
trust you,” Kronos said, his back still turned. Methos drew closer and swung his
sword at Kronos’s back. Kronos turned quickly, years of battle experience making
Methos an easy foe to overpower. He drew a dagger and held it to Methos’s
throat, forcing him to drop his sword to the ground. Kronos smiled.

“And now I am,” Kronos remarked, sounding glad that his old friend had tried to
kill him. Methos shook his head.

“Don't you understand?! I'm not like that anymore,” he denied. He thought of
Alexa, of her beauty, her innocence and her goodness. “I've changed,” he added
softly.

“No, you pretended to. Maybe you even convinced yourself you had. But inside
you're still there, Methos. You're like me,” Kronos insisted, forcing Methos
backwards before he removed the blade from his throat.

“Not anymore,” Methos insisted. He wasn’t like that. He wasn’t. Not anymore. He
couldn’t be.

“No? Tell me you haven't missed it,” Kronos’s eyes were alight with fire and
gleamed of madness.

“The killing?!” Methos asked disbelieving.

“The freedom! The power! Riding out of the sun knowing that you're the most
terrifying thing that they've ever seen. Knowing that their weapons and their
gods are useless against you. That you're the last thing they'll ever see.
That's what you were meant to be, Methos. Don't fight it. Feel it,” Kronos
demanded, walking around him again. Methos drew a deep breath……he saw them now,
their fear, their screams…….the power souring through his veins. He could do
anything, nothing could stop him. He was all powerful, he was………..suddenly
Alexa’s image broke through. Her smile, her faith in him, her love, her
goodness……and her forgiveness.

“I’m not like that anymore,” Methos denied, his voice sure now.

“Is it because of that woman you have?” Kronos asked, his eyes narrowed.

Please, please, don’t let her be dead, Methos wished.

“Alexa? Is she here?” Methos tried to pretend the answer didn’t matter to him.
Don’t get attached, Kronos had always said for if you did…he’ll use it against
you like he had Cassandra.

“She’s here. She’s very different from Cassandra but beautiful all the same.
Though I expected nothing less from you,” Kronos grinned and Methos tried to
fight his fear for Alexa’s safety.

“Is she….well?” he forced out. In other words…had he touched her? Tortured her,
raped her…..killed her? His mind and thoughts was an ocean of fear, need and
memories.

“She’s well…….” Kronos said and saw Methos’s relived sigh. “For now,” he added
and Methos looked guarded at him.

“And?” Methos asked softly, knowing he’ll have a prize for her life. Kronos had
a prize for everything.

“I'm going to do you a favour. You know Cassandra is in town,” Kronos remarked.

“I know,” Methos lied, not wanting to show ignorance or weakness in front of
Kronos.

“Then you know that she'll kill you if she gets the chance.”

Methos nodded. Oh, he was sure she would.

“You never could bring yourself to take her head, could you? So I'm going to do
it for you,” Kronos made it sound like he had just offered to buy basketball
tickets for him and not murder a woman.

“And Alexa?” Methos pressed.

“She’ll stay here. What was that phase you used on Cassandra? She’ll live as
long as you please me,” Kronos laughed at Methos’s disgusted look at having his
own words from 3000 years ago thrown back at him.

“And in return?” Methos forced himself to ask. What if Kronos asked for his
head? He couldn’t count on Kronos keeping his promise and he wasn’t sure it’d
help if he did anyway. Cassandra had chosen death to their company…Alexa would
probably choose the same.

“You’ll do whatever I say, be whatever I ask you to be. It’ll be like it was,”
Kronos demanded, his voice hard but glowing with joy and anticipation.
“And…you’ll find Cassandra’s whereabouts for me,” he added, seeing the instant
denial in Methos’s eyes at that command.

“But…she’s nothing to you. Why?” Methos wanted to know. Why not just leave her?
Why couldn’t he let the past die?

“Why?! Because she meant something to you then and may still mean something to
you now. Because you still have to prove yourself. And because YOU OWE ME!”
Kronos yelled the last words, anger in his voice. Methos had been the one who
had left the Horsemen, forcing them to break up. Kronos hadn’t wanted to let him
go…..not even close…



//The Bronze Age, 10 years after Cassandra’s escape//

Methos looked out at the battlefield from his tent, seeing all the dead, all the
destruction. He had tried to come to theme with it all, with whom and what he
was and the more years that passed the surer he became; this life wasn’t him. He
wanted more out of life than constant fighting.

“Methos the scholar? That's a good one, brother,” Kronos laughed, forcing
Methos’s attention back on him. Methos closed the canvas and returned to
Kronos's side. He should have known Kronos wouldn’t understand his need for
knowledge. Knowledge was power; ignorance was failure and Methos began to
realise he knew far too little for someone having lived as long as he had.

“I'm serious. It's what I want to do. Study and learn.”

“What for? What have you got to learn?” Kronos asked disbelieving.

“Almost everything, it seems. About the world. About myself. About who we are,”
Methos tried to explain, his voice passionate for his plan.

“I can tell you who we are,” Kronos said coldly. He didn’t need to study for
that.

“Can you?” Methos asked sceptically. Could he really?

“ I'm Kronos. I always have been, and I always will be. And you're just like me.
We are who we are, and that's more than enough,” Kronos said, his voice sure,
hoping to end this foolish discussion.

“Not for me. Those who don't learn from their mistakes, repeat them,” his voice
was soft. He had repeated his mistake for ten years now, Cassandra’s escape had
been a turning point in his life, her spirit and the fact that she’ll rather die
a 1000th deaths than stay with him…. with them…. made it clear to him just what
he had become.

“We don't make mistakes. We make history. Pour me another drink and have one
yourself. You're getting too damned serious for your own good,” Kronos said
darkly, pointing towards the bottle of wine. Methos went to the small table with
wine and glasses and poured Kronos a glass. This was his chance, now or never.
Kronos would never understand and would never let him go. His heart beating
wildly in his chest Methos slipped some poison from one of his rings into
Kronos’s glass. Taking a deep breath he turned around and handed Kronos the
glass. As Methos had expected Kronos drank it all at once. Methos watched him
closely. This poison better be as fast and as good as I was told, Methos thought
darkly. If not he had a little score to settle with a ‘businessman’…. if he
lived so long.

“Just don't forget what you really are,” Kronos warned.

“ I never forget what I am. I can’t change the past but I can change the
future,” Methos said and noticing Kronos fighting a yawn, he took the chance and
turned towards the entrance of the tent.

“Where do you think you are going?” Kronos demanded to know.

Methos sighed.

“That's what I've been trying to tell you. I'm finished riding with you.”

“The hell you are! Sit down!” Kronos demanded hotly. Methos remained standing,
not moving, his arms crossed over his chest.

“Don't make me say it again,” Kronos warned, his eyes blazing. Just who did he
think he was?

“You don't need me,” Methos protested.

“There are four Horsemen. There always will be.”

“Find another to take my place,” Methos suggested. He didn’t need him but he
wanted to control him.

“Impossible. We are four brothers. The blood we spill binds us; only blood can
separate us,” Kronos protested. He saw Methos wasn’t impressed. “Don't you
understand, Methos? The only way to leave the Horsemen... is by leaving your
head,” his voice was cold now. Methos shook his head sadly. Why was violence
always the only way for Kronos?

“I was afraid you might see it that way.”

“I do,” Kronos hissed and stood up, drawing his sword. Methos drew back, drawing
his sword as well. Any minute now…any minute now…….

“Fight me, and don't think you'll live to learn anything from it,” Kronos
warned, the anger at Methos’s betrayal making his voice hard and cold. He
stepped forth to take a swing at Methos when his vision became blurry and his
feet unsteady. He dropped his sword, sinking to the floor. What? What was
happening? Methos bent down over him. Of course…..

”The wine…” Kronos forced out. That cheating, double-crossing…….snake! He’ll pay
for this. If it was then the last thing he did; Methos would pay for his
treason!

“A little something I came across. That poison would kill most people. It will
stop even you,” Methos revealed. Kronos tried to reach for his sword but was too
weak.

“Your head…. is mine! Your…. life is mine,” Kronos got out, his voice hissed and
weak but the determination and hate in it clear. With a last look of utter hate
at Methos, Kronos lay still; dead. Methos stood over him, his sword touching
Kronos’s neck. Should he kill him? One part of him wanted to. Wanted revenge for
the things Kronos had forced him to do, wanted revenge for the things Kronos had
made him into…but he couldn’t. They had been brothers and if he played judge and
jury, judging Kronos worthy of death…how could he judge himself any different?

With a last look at Kronos’s still body, Methos existed the tent, packed a few
belongings and rode off, hoping never to see him again.

//



When he had finally found Methos again many years later in Jerusalem Methos had
been married to a mortal woman and Kronos had used her to try and blackmail
Methos into helping him gather information on other Immortals so he could easier
kill them. But things hadn’t turned out the way Kronos had planned. Methos’s
wife, Ruth, reminded him of Cassandra in her fire and spirit and she had called
for help from her people. Kronos had been imprisoned in a tomb for more than a
thousand years thanks to Methos’s weakness for mortals. Oh, how he owned him and
Kronos would make sure the debt was paid in full.

Kronos took out a knife from his belt and cut a fine line in his hand, the blood
dripping to the floor. Methos frowned at the sight of blood. Kronos gave the
knife to Methos who for a split second considered trying to either cut Kronos’s
throat or stick it into his heart but Kronos watched him carefully and his
chance of succeeding wasn’t promising.

“Now, swear you’ll bring me Cassandra and do what I ask; never disobey me
again,” Kronos demanded. Methos looked from Kronos to the knife. Then he cut a
fine line in his palm, droving blood. He winced at the pain before he lifted his
hand and put it against Kronos’s; blood meeting blood.

“I swear,” Methos said quietly and Kronos nodded in satisfaction, going back to
his plans and maps lying on the table. Methos studied the warehouse more
closely. There wasn’t much in it and he was sure Alexa wasn’t here. But where
was she then? He had to find her but he couldn’t seem too eager, couldn’t show
weakness.

“Go find Cassandra and bring her to the Red Castle,” Kronos demanded, his back
turned to him, indicating he thought Methos no threat. The Red Castle was a
nickname for a big, old castle in the other end of town. Alexa had to be there.
“Oh, and Methos….” Kronos added, turning to face him, a deadly smile on his
face. “If you’re not there in two hours with Cassandra I’ll kill your woman. If
I find the woman gone I’ll search for you till the end of time and you know I
will kill you. Both of you,” Kronos added and Methos nodded grimly. Oh, he had
no doubt he would.

“I’ll be there,” Methos promised and quickly left the warehouse. Damn, damn….
bloody Hell. Things had been so perfect just a few hours ago, now his life lay
in ruins. He didn’t know what he’ll do without Alexa, couldn’t bear the thought
of losing her. He had never been a man of chivalry or principles, blood oath or
not he had to save Alexa. He didn’t like it but what if he was forced to make a
decision…would he sacrifice Cassandra for Alexa? It was a choice he hoped he
wouldn’t have to face. For now all he could do was play the game. He would find
Cassandra and bring her to the castle and then…

Methos had walked for twenty minutes back to town from the warehouse, which had
been isolated and was just outside the city limits. He looked around but
couldn’t see anyone nor feel any Immortals. He had to take a chance, he couldn’t
do this alone. He needed help but from who? Kronos would sense Immortals so
mortals were the best choice. Someone with a more than 50% chance of actually
doing more than just dying…providing they chose to help. But who? Of course! He
went to a phone booth and dialled in a number.

“Xavier’s School. How can I help you?” Ororo’ sweet and lightly accented voice
came through.

“It’s Methos. Alexa is in danger. We’re…” Methos began but then he felt the
familiar tingling in his brain. An Immortal was near. It could be Kronos or it
could be someone just passing through but with Alexa’s life on the line Methos
didn’t dare to take any chances and quickly hang up, walking with fast steps
away from the phone.

Now, the only question was…would Logan help him?  And if yes, would he arrive in
time?





Part 3:

“Xavier’s School. How can I help you?” Ororo asked as she picked up the phone in
the kitchen, holding it between her shoulder and cheek so she could talk and
still have her hands free. It was seven in the morning and the kitchen were
filled with children of all ages. She carried some pancakes to the table and the
some of the youngest boys threw themselves over them like they hadn’t eaten in
days.

“It’s Methos. Alexa is in danger. We’re…” the voice on the other end said and
then the phone went dead.

“Methos? Methos, are you there?” Ororo asked worried. Confused by what had
happened she hung up.

“What did Methos want?” Scott asked as he tried unsuccessfully to dry his son,
John’s, hands from all the strawberry marmalade he had all over. John was his
and Ororo’s youngest child and he had just turned three a few months ago.

“I’m not sure but it sounded like he was in trouble. He suddenly hung up,” Ororo
explained worried and put more cereal on the table for the students.

“That doesn’t sound like him,” Logan agreed, having just entered the kitchen
with Rogue just as Ororo had answered the phone.

“Is Alexa alright?” Rogue asked worried. The women had over the years grown
close and Rogue felt a special bond between Alexa and herself. Not only because
they had both fallen in love with more or less Immortal men but also because
none of them could have children. Rogue because of her poisonous skin and Alexa
because Methos as an Immortal was unable to father children.

“He said she was in danger,” Ororo said concerned.

“Maybe an Immortal found them?” Scott suggested.

“Dad, what’s an Immo….Im….Morry?” Alexa, Scott and Ororo’s oldest child at four
asked him from where she sat to his right side. Ororo and Scott had named their
daughter Alexa Marie Summers in Alexa and Rogue’s honour so that some part of
their friends would always live on even after their death. She was the daughter
Alexa and Rogue could never have.

“An Immortal. I’ll explain it when you’re older, princess,” Scott said warmly
and kissed the top of her head. Alexa was a lot like her mother; her skin was
light brown, her hair almost as white as her mother’s and she had a calmness to
her that Scott had only seen in Ororo. John on the other hand…he was like his
dad. His eyes were deep blue, his hair deep brown, his skin a little darker than
Scott’s but his temper matched Scott’s from when he had been younger.

“Cancel our classes for today, Scott,” Logan said and frowned. “We have to find
out what happened.”

“Will do. We’ll meet in the library at 8 when the kids go to class,” Scott
instructed and the others all nodded. The mood was grim as they eat breakfast
and sent the kids off to their classes save those who should have had Scott for
mathematics who then had no classes then till later that day. Since it was a
nice autumn day Ororo sent the kids who didn’t have class outside to play.

The four friends went into the library, Scott carrying Alexa on his shoulders
and Ororo carried John in her arms. Scott told Alexa to go play with her dolls
in the other end of the room while he talked with Logan, Rogue and her mother.
Alexa was happy to play as long as she could still see her parents. Scott helped
Ororo sit down in one of the easy chairs, John on her lap. Scott sat next to her
and Logan and Rogue sat opposite them, in typical manner Rogue sat in Logan’s
lap though there were chairs enough.

“Okay. So, any ideas?” Scott began, looking around at the others. “First of all
we have to agree how far we’ll pursue this. How much we’ll do to help.”

“All the way,” Ororo said softly and Logan nodded.
”I agree with ‘Ro,” Logan said and Rogue nodded her consent.

“It’s agreed then. Now comes the hard part; where shall we start looking for
Methos and Alexa?”

“Their home,” Rogue said. It was a good place to start.

“They have moved from Italy. Do any of you know where they moved to?” Scott
asked and for the first time got annoyed at Methos’s caution and inability to
trust anyone. Alexa or Methos would tell them when they moved but unless it was
really important or necessary they wouldn’t say where they had moved to.

“It doesn’t make it easier that the Prof. and all the other telepaths are away
for at least another week,” Logan said grimly. Xavier was with the other
telepaths to a Congress meeting in Washington.

“We can’t wait a week,” Ororo voiced what they all knew was the truth. For
Methos to seek their help something had to have gone very wrong.

“Someone has to know where they live. They can’t just have disappeared,” Scott
said frustrated.

“Let’s narrow our search down then. We know they’ll be in Europe,” Ororo began
and the others nodded.

“We know Methos will use the name Adam in some form should he have changed
alias,” Scott added.

“We know Alexa never changes her first name,” Rogue said, thinking hard for any
other clues.

“So, we’re looking for a couple named Alexa something married to a Adam
something or something Adams. Yeah, I can see how that narrows it down,” Logan
said sarcastically.

“Wait a minute. For the 12 years I’ve known Alexa and Methos never once have
they moved back to countries where they have already been,” Scott realised.

“Yes, that’s true. Alexa said it was because Methos wanted to show her the
world. All of the world,” Rogue explained.

“They have lived in Italy, France, England, Ireland, Sweden and Germany. When we
visited them in Italy they had just recently moved there so they can only have
moved once and that’s where they live now,” Ororo summered up.

  “So, we have the Netherlands, Luxembourg, Switzerland….” Scott began.

“They wouldn’t move to Switzerland because it reminds Methos of when he nearly
lost Alexa,” Logan interrupted.

“How do you know that?” Scott asked. Methos rarely spoke of his feelings so
openly.

“Because that is what I’ll feel,” Logan said softly and pulled Rogue close to
him.

“Okay, so we have Netherlands, Luxembourg, Spain….” Scott thought about what
other countries were possibilities.

“I doubt they’ll go to Russia, Poland, Finland or other cold countries. Methos
doesn’t seem to like winter or the cold,” Ororo said and remembered how Methos
would always wear a long coat, his hands in his pockets whenever he went outside
in weather just below 14C.

“The best guess would then be Spain,” Scott said and looked around to see if the
others agreed.

“I agree, darling,” Ororo said softly and smiled down at John who had gotten
hold of some of her long white hair and begun to play with it.

“Sounds right,” Logan added his vote and Rogue nodded her agreement.

“Spain is still a big place,” Rogue warned.

“I remember when I was in ‘Nam I met this guy at the hospital……Joe Dawson. He
kept mumbling about some dead guy saving his life after a mine had blown off his
legs. I thought he was just going crazy….Hell, we’re all going crazy,” his voice
was low and grim as he remembered the terror, the blood, the screams and the
despair. Young boys were shipped over in the dozens…and sent home in plastic
bags, numbered corpses, often unrecognisable, blown to pieces. Even those who
survived and returned home were destroyed, coming home to a country that
couldn’t and wouldn’t understand them. Never had he been in a war that had been
so dirty as that one. Oh, yeah…it hadn’t been a war but a ‘conflict’. It sure
was the bloodiest conflict he had ever been in. “Anyway, a few days later he saw
me heal remarkably fast and asked if I was Immortal. I denied it of course and
left as fast as I could.”

“You think this Joe might know where Methos lives?” Scott asked disbelieving.
Logan thought about it. Joe did seem to have gotten something…a kind of
certainty when he had asked if he was Immortal, like he was sure it was possible
but…

“Nah, you’re right. I was grabbing at straws. Besides I don’t know what happened
to him after the war anyway. He could be dead by now,” Logan dismissed the idea.
It had been a hunch anyway…no, it was impossible that he could know anything.

“Methos has a car, has he not?” Ororo asked and looked from John to Scott.

“Of course. We can break into Spain’s Motor register and find every driver’s
license issued within the last year to a person named Adam as a first name or
Adams as a last name. It can’t be many since it’s not a Spanish name,” Scott
said excited. “Lov, you’re a Goddess,” Scott added happily and kissed Ororo on
the lips. She smiled warmly.

“I know,” she teased, her tone regal.

“Kitty is great with computers. I’ll ask her to help us,” Rogue said and left to
find her friend. Logan went to the computer in the library and turned it on. Now
they were getting somewhere. Now they had a chance.



Part 4:

The last four hours had been a nightmare for Methos. His worry for Alexa hadn’t
lessened and in his mind he kept seeing her broken body, dead and alone, hearing
her scream for help, a scream he couldn’t answer.

It hadn’t been too hard to find Cassandra. It was a small town, Cassandra’s
beauty was unusual and, like Duncan MacLeod, she still used the same name.
Cassandra had never been all that good at swordfight though that hadn’t
mattered. Methos had found her in her hotel room and before she could recover
from the shock of seeing him again and make a grab for her sword he had shot her
through the heart, killing her. The look of hurt, hate and disbelief in her eyes
as the light left them was heartbreaking and something he hoped never to see
again but he had no choice. Alexa’s life was at the balance and he’ll do
anything to save her. He had went to Cassandra and held her in his arms as she
died, whispering calming words to her though he knew it didn’t help. He had
betrayed her; again. Her last action before she died was desperately trying to
reach for her sword to kill him. As she lay still in his arms, he carried her
out to the car he had rented for the purpose and drove to the Red Castle, his
heart in his throat. It was now he was going to know if Alexa was still alive.
He didn’t even want to think about the possibility of her being dead but the
image of her death plagued his thoughts all the same. The Red Castle was built
like any other old European castle in the baroque period, the façade of the
castle bearing evidence to decay that indicated that Kronos had probably gotten
the house pretty cheap. When he stopped before the entrance to the house he
could feel another Immortal; Kronos. Carefully, Methos carried the still
unconscious Cassandra from the backseat of his car and into one of the living
rooms, practice making it easier for him to open doors with her still in his
arms. He lay her down on an old sofa in the livingroom, making sure she lay
somewhat comfortably.

“You did as I asked, I see,” Kronos remarked as he entered the room. If looks
could kill…Methos thought darkly as he turned to face his old friend.

“What did you expect me to do? Run and hide?” Methos asked but the words made
him think. If Alexa’s life hadn’t been on the line…. would he had run? Why not?

“No. You knew I’ll find you and kill you,” Kronos said, his voice casual. He
neared Cassandra and Methos instantly stood between them. If he had to choose….
could he let Cassandra die? Could he let Alexa die? No, never. He would do
anything to save Alexa. He looked down at Cassandra, still out of it, his eyes
sad. Sorry, Cass. So sorry for everything.

“Alexa?” Methos couldn’t keep from asked, forcing his voice to be calm and
steady.

“Do you concern yourself with her safety because she’s your property or because
you’re attached to her?” Kronos’s voice was hard and cold as were his eyes.

“You’ve known me for years. What do you think?” Methos blocked the question.
Kronos smiled dangerously and took out his sword, the point of it meeting
Cassandra’s soft and blotted neck. Methos hid the alarm he felt.

“I think you wouldn’t mind if I killed her. That was our deal, was it not?” as
he spoke the blade came close to Cassandra’s neck.

“It was but she would be more useful to us if she stayed alive. For the moment,”
Methos added as he saw Kronos’s grimace. Then Kronos smiled and removed the
sword.

“You’re right. Now I remember why I kept you around for so long,” their eyes met
and Methos held his stare until finally, more from old habit, he lowered his
eyes. “Your woman is downstairs. Third room on the right,” Kronos told him,
satisfied with how things were processing so far. Methos looked from Cassandra’s
still form to Kronos and back again. Would Kronos kill her when he left? Maybe.
Could he stop him? No. Methos turned on his heels and walked down the stairs,
forcing Cassandra out of his mind. Walking quickly he found the locked door but
halted as his hand lay on the door handle. What would he find behind the door?
What if she was…No, she was well, she was alive. He refused to believe anything
else for...the alternative was unthinkable. He turned the key in the big, heavy
metal door and opened it. The room was small, having been used as a storage
supply for dry food. There was a small bared window, an empty shelf and a few
empty bags that had probably been used for potatoes. And there……there by the
window, standing as she heard the key turn stood Alexa.

“Methos! Oh, God,” Alexa cried and threw herself into his embrace and he held
her close, never wanting to let go.

“It’s alright, aquatseliadanvdo[1]. It’s alright,” he whispered softly, stroking
her hair. He drew a little back from her and he saw tears on her cheeks. Gently
he wiped them away with his thumb.

“What is going on? Is…that man who grabbed me…he’s an Immortal, isn’t he?” Alexa
asked, her voice filled with concern yet still strong.

“Yes,” Methos said grimly, holding her hands in his.

“Did he want to fight you? Have you killed him?” she tried to look behind him to
see if she could see her attacker anywhere.

“No. Beloved…the man who took you…. his name’s Kronos,” Methos explained and
Alexa drew a deep breath. They hadn’t talked of Kronos, the four horsemen or
that part of his past again since the day he had told her but though Methos
hadn’t said it with words she had clearly understood that Kronos was dangerous.
Very dangerous.

“Alexa…….did he hurt you in any way?” Methos demanded to know, knowing the kind
of fear for Kronos that she was showing very well. Gods, if Kronos had harmed
her……

She turned her head away from him, blushing in shame.

“I’m sorry. I should have been more careful,” she mumbled. There was something
in her voice…if only the light wasn’t so bad down here but the only light was
from the small window and it was almost sundown now.

“It wasn’t your fault,” he said softly and reached out and turned her head back
to face him and up towards the beam of light from the window. He drew a deep
breath as he saw the angry red welt on her right cheek. “He did this, didn’t
he?” It wasn’t a question. Her eyes finally met his.

“It’s not important.”
”It is to me,” he whispered and softly stroked her abused cheek. She laid her
hand over his.

“Please, don’t get killed over this. I’m all right, really. He didn’t hurt me
anywhere else,” Alexa insisted. Methos searched for signs of injury on her but
found none.

“Don’t worry, I don’t intend to die. And neither shall you,” Methos promised and
drew her into another embrace.

“Do you have a plan?” she whispered against his shoulder, seeking strength in
his nearness and love.

“He wants me to help him,” Alexa drew back from him in shock. “He says he’ll let
you live if I do.”

“Help him; how?” Alexa asked suspiciously. Methos’s look gave him away. “He
wants you to do what you did then. He wants to remake the four horsemen.”

“Most likely,” Methos agreed, reaching for her but she drew back.

“You can’t do this. You know better than anyone what kind of man he is. Millions
of lives…..Millions of people,” she shook her head in disbelief. He reached for
her hands and she let them stay in his.

“You don’t understand. I don’t care about millions of people, just you,” he
whispered softly. Tears formed in the corners of her eyes as she reached up a
hand and stroked his cheek.

“How can I live if I know my life has cost millions theirs? How can my life be
worth that much and theirs that little?”

“Because…I love you; not them,” Methos tried to explain but he knew how hard it
would be for her to understand.

“Don’t do this. You have changed. You’re not him, you’re not like that anymore,”
Alexa protested, tears in her voice and on her cheeks. Gently, he wiped her
tears away.

“You are the reason I’ve changed. I’ll do what I can to stop this but your life
is more important than anything,” he drew her closer and into a kiss. “Anything
at all,” he added, their lips close and their breaths as one. They lay all their
love, passion, fear and desire into that one kiss until Alexa had to draw back
for breath.

“I trust you and I love you. Whatever you do, whatever happens……I’ll always love
you,” Alexa promised, love shinning in her eyes. “And…….I’ll always forgive
you,” she added so softly he barely heard her.

“I love you, Alexa. More than anything,” he drew her into another kiss but drew
back as he felt two Immortals nearly. Cassandra must have awoken.

“Let me go,” Cassandra’s voice reached him. Strange, he hadn’t heard it for
1000th of years yet he would have recognized it anywhere.

“Come on,” Kronos demanded and as Methos turned from Alexa he saw Kronos pushing
a handcuffed Cassandra in front of him towards where Methos stood. Methos
automatically pushed Alexa behind him.

“You!” Cassandra screamed, her voice twisted with hate and underneath it…. an
old tingle of fear.

  “You’re a memorable man, Methos,” Kronos said with an evil gleam in his eyes
and Methos briefly closed his eyes, forcing down memories of all what he had
done to her, all he had made her do and all he had turned her into.

“Get in there,” Kronos demanded and pushed Cassandra into the room where Alexa
also was. Then he turned to Methos. “Come, my friend. We have a lot to discuss.”

Methos looked from Cassandra’s hate filled eyes to Alexa’s concerned and loved
filled ones.

“I wish to take Alexa with me,” Methos made the request sound as casual as
possible.

“And I wish you’ll stop wasting my time. One more remark about that woman and
she dies,” Kronos promised, his eyes narrowed as he waited for Methos to follow
him. Methos turned to face Alexa, giving her a quick kiss which was more
demanding than loving as Methos was very aware of Kronos’s eyes on him.

“Stay here, woman,” the words were harsh as was his tone but his eyes were soft.

“Be careful,” she whispered in his ear before she reluctantly let go of his
hands and drew back from him. Methos nodded and forced himself to step back from
her and close the door, turning the key and locking his beloved wife inside with
one of his greatest mistakes………one of his thousands of mistakes.



Part 5:

“This should be it,” Scott announced as he, Ororo, Logan and Rogue drove to a
stop in the car they had rented in front of a big house. There were trees and
the last flowers of the year in the garden. Scott turned off the engine and they
all went to the front door. Thank God for Kitty and her computer abilities or
they’ll never have found the right place. The name Adam or Adams married to a
woman with Alexa as her first name was so unusual in Spain than they had only
one candidate and this was it.

“Dr. Adams and Alexa Adams,” Ororo read on the post box.

“Sounds like the right place,” Logan agreed. They reached the door and Rogue
reached for the door handle. Logan caught her hand. “No. Let me go in first. We
don’t know who’s in there.”

Rogue nodded and moved back. Scott moved to stand before Rogue and Ororo, his
right hand going to his glasses.

“Now,” Scott ordered and Logan opened the door, extracting his claws.

“Alexa? Methos?” Ororo called out. No answer. Carefully Scott and Logan moved
further into the house, Rogue and Ororo behind them.

“Stay here,” Logan turned to his wife and asked. Rogue smiled sweetly at him and
went further into the house.
”Ah’m no chica doll, sugah. Ah can take care of myself,” she insisted. Scott
looked to Ororo.

“Don’t even start. I’m more than able to take care of myself as well,” Ororo
insisted and Scott looked to Logan.
”Women,” Logan mumbled and Scott nodded.
”Women,” he agreed.
”What was that?” Ororo and Rogue asked at the same time.

“’Nothin’,” both men insisted simultaneously.

“We’ll take the kitchen and the garden. You take the livingroom and upstairs,”
Ororo said and went to the garden while Rogue went towards the kitchen.

“You take upstairs. I’ll take the livingroom,” Scott said to Logan and he
nodded, going up the stairs.

“Guys, Ah have somethin’ here,“ Rogue’s voice came to them, her shock making her
southern accent come forth more clearly. Fearing the worst Logan all but ran to
her.

“You all right, darlin’?” he asked concerned, his eyes on Rogue, scanning her
for injuries and relived to find none.

“Ah’m fine but look at this mess,” Rogue pointed to the broken glass on the
floor and general mess, clear signs of a fight.

“By the Goddess,” Ororo mumbled as she saw it and Scott lay his arms around her,
pulling her into his embrace.

“I’ll guess Alexa was taken from here,” Scott said, his voice grim as he looked
over Ororo’s head at Logan. Logan nodded.

“Whoever took her was bigger and stronger than her, probably a man,” Logan
sniffed the air. “Definitely a man,” he added.

“Methos wasn’t here when Alexa was kidnapped,” Rogue said as she looked around
in the kitchen.
”Because he’ll have protected her?” Scott asked.

“No, because those flowers…” Rogue pointed to the bouquet of flowers lying on
the kitchen table, now looking flat since it had been long since they had been
watered. Ororo spotted them too and went from Scott’s embrace and picked the
flowers up.  White lilies, Alexa’s favourite.

“…were meant for her,” Logan finished for her, always able to guess what his
wife wanted to say. His eyes followed Ororo as she found a vase in the kitchen
cupboard and carefully put the flowers in it, filled it with water and placed
them on the kitchen table, with her hand waving pieces of glass to the floor to
make room for the flowers.

  “Alexa is home alone. She’s making dinner. Suddenly a man comes…from where? The
front door wasn’t broken up, merely open,” Scott wondered.

“There’re more doors than the front door. He probably came from one of those,”
Ororo said and went to see if any other doors had been broken in.

“Why not force the front door up? Why go through the trouble to break in another
place?” Rogue wondered.

“Because our intruder didn’t want Methos to know something was wrong, didn’t
want to give him time to seek help,” Scott said slowly, trying to see through
the intruder’s eyes.

“He was after Methos, Alexa was a mean to an end,” Logan agreed, anger in his
voice. Coward, to hide behind an innocent woman.

“He broke open the garden door. The door is hidden from view, you can’t see it
from the front of the house,” Ororo told them as she returned to the kitchen.
“There’s no other sign anywhere of disturbance.”

“So, we’re looking for a man who’s after Methos…. why?” Scott asked, looking at
the others.

“To kill him,” Logan answered.

“Yes, but why?” Scott asked again; they needed a motive.

“For his head?” Ororo suggested.

“For revenge? We know he has a past to say the least,” Logan remarked. Then a
thought occurred to him. “Cassandra? He held her as his slave, used her, killed
her…beat her into obedience. If that’s not your motive, Scooter, I don’t know
what is,” Logan said. Revenge he could understand and it was a reason and an
excuse for almost anything.

“No. She won’t harm Alexa. She may hate Methos and want him dead but not at the
price of an innocent woman,” Ororo protested. Or did she?
”We talked with her for only a few hours because Cassandra had figured out Logan
had known Methos. Who’s to say she wouldn’t want revenge at that price?” Scott
said softly, taking Ororo’s hand in his.

“I’m still not sure she would do something like this,” Ororo insisted.

“Okay but I still say we look for her,” Logan said stubbornly.

“I agree with Logan,” Scott began and Ororo threw him a wounded look. He smiled
at her. “We look for her but we should still look for another attacker.”

“Thanks, dear,” Ororo smiled at him and kissed his cheek.

“Who else would be after Methos?” Rogue asked, frowning in concentration.

“We know Methos began to stay away from other Immortals,” Ororo began.

“But we agree that the attacker is Immortal?” Scott interrupted.

“Of course. No mortal would have reason to attack them,” Rogue agreed and the
others nodded.

“How about other Immortals during his days as a horseman?” Logan suggested.

“I think you’re on to something, Logan. Our attacker must have something to do
with the horsemen,” Scott said in agreement.

“Either an old friend…or an old enemy,” Ororo said softly, thinking.

“But like you said he generally stayed away from other Immortals. Cassandra was
as far as I could tell a rare case,” Scott said, lost in thought.

“Except….” Logan began and Scott nodded.

“Of course. Except his fellow horsemen,” Scott finished for him.

“What were their names?” Rogue couldn’t recall.

“Kronos, Caspian and Silas,” Ororo answered; such unusual names were hard to
forget.

“You’re amazing,” Scott said with a smile and kissed her. She blushed prettily
and smiled back.

“Thanks.”

“Let’s go then,” Logan said and began to go to the front door.

“Let’s go back to the hotel and find out where Cassandra is. Then you and Rogue
can pay her a visit and see if she’s involved. I’ll call Kitty and work with her
on my laptop to try and find out what happened to Kronos, Caspian and Silas to
see if they should be involved,” Scott suggested as he walked to the door,
holding Ororo’s hand. They walked out and Ororo carefully closed the front door,
trying not to cry by the gesture. Please, please, dear Goddess, let us reach
them in time, Ororo prayed. Scott must have sensed her dark mood for he squeezed
her hand before he let go of it to put his arm around her shoulder, holding her
tight against him.


TBC

Part 6:

Alexa looked guarded at her new cellmate as the door closed and the key was
turned. The other woman returned her stare, defiant and proud.

“So…..” Alexa finally said as the silence between them became too much for her
to bear. “I’m Alexa,” she introduced herself and reached out her hand to the
other woman. Cassandra’s hands were handcuffed together in front of her so Alexa
knew she could accept her hand if she wanted to. For a moment Alexa didn’t think
her hand would be accepted but then Cassandra took it, shaking it.

“I’m Cassandra.”

Alexa gashed in shock. Was this woman Cassandra?! She was beautiful in a
mysterious kind of way. Her hair was deep brown, lightly curled, she was wearing
a long skirt and blouse, the colours light reddish or brown.

“You’re…..Immortal?” Alexa asked to confirm her identity. Cassandra nodded.

“Yes.”

Not much of a talker, was she? Alexa thought dryly. Cassandra scanned the room,
trying to see if there was a chance of escape.

“I’ve already looked. We can only get out through the door,” Alexa nodded to the
locked door. She was sure Methos had a plan, all she had to do was keep her
faith in him and that she would. He’ll see they both got out.

“There’s no chance of that with Kronos and Methos holding us,” Cassandra said
darkly.

“Kronos; probably not but you’re wrong about Methos. He’s not like that
anymore,” Alexa protested, hoping to give Cassandra some hope but instead her
eyes blazed with anger and fire.

“He’s exactly like Kronos. Do you have any idea what he did? What they did?” Her
voice was rising as she spoke. Alexa held her ground.

“Yes.”

Cassandra looked stunned by her reply.

“You know?! What exactly are you to any of them?” Cassandra demanded to her, her
eyes narrowed.

“I’m Methos’s wife. I have been for the last 14 years,” there was pride, love
and joy in her voice as she told of this fact; the best 14 years of her life.
Cassandra laughed, it was a cruel sound.

“Poor you. He’s brainwashed you more than he did me.”

Alexa shook her head.

“It’s not like that. He’s not like that,” as she spoke she came closer to the
other woman so they now stood face to face. “He has really changed. It has been
over 3000 years. Don’t you think it’s about time you let the past go? If not for
his sake then for yours. Be able to start over,” her voice was soft,
compassionate.

“How can you say that? You have no idea what he did to me,” Cassandra protested,
her eyes far away on unpleasant memories.

“I know enough. I know that whatever he did to you, you have done ten fold worse
to yourself through the years. He left the scar, you never let it heal,” Alexa
knew she was stepping on unsure ground, knew that like any Immortal Cassandra
was able to kill her in an instant but she was betting on Cassandra first and
foremost being a woman, a woman who had suffered. Someone who were using anger
to signal a need for help. Alexa closed her eyes for a brief instant and
remembered her cousin, Ann. She had used anger like that, as a signal for help
but none had seen it. Alexa had never forgiven herself when Ann had killed
herself. She should have done something, should have seen it. Well, she could
see someone who needed her help now and this time…she’ll get it right.

“You…you don’t see,” Cassandra whispered pained. Playing on a hunch that
Cassandra wouldn’t mind a woman’s touch Alexa softly and carefully pulled
Cassandra into an embrace. How long had it been since she had last been
embraced? 3000 years? How long had it been since someone had cared?

“I may not be able to know exactly what you’re going through; no one does but I
may still be able to help. I know some of what Methos did to you and what I
don’t know I can guess. Methos told me and he also told me about the Stockholm
syndrome. Have you heard of it?”

Cassandra drew back and out of Alexa’s arms, turning to look out of the bared
window.

“Yes. The captive falls in love with the captor.”
”Exactly and I think you did just that and when you escaped…you hated yourself
for it. Hated yourself for surviving when your people didn’t, hating yourself
for loving him or thinking you did,” Alexa explained softly.

“I hate him,” Cassandra whispered. “I hate him.”

“Yes, but not as much as you hate yourself.  Cassandra, you have to forgive
yourself. You have to move on. Don’t let this ruin your life,” Alexa plead.
Cassandra turned to face her.

“Why do you ask this? Do you not think I deserve revenge? Do I not have reason
to take it?”
”Yes, you do deserve revenge and yes of course you have right to take it but…”
Alexa sighed. She began to understand why Methos avoided other Immortals. If a
crime done 3000 years ago was still actual today…how could any two Immortals
meet more than once without killing each other? “…killing him won’t solve
anything,” Alexa ended, knowing it sounded lame.

“Give me a reason not to kill him,” Cassandra challenged.

“Because he has changed. Because he loves me. Because he fell in love with me
and married me though we both thought I had only a year left to live in. Because
he searched for a cure for me everywhere and didn’t give up until he had found
it. Because second chances are possible. Because violence solves nothing.
Because he’s been good to me. Because he has regretted his actions towards you
and what he did then,” Alexa stopped for breath and saw nothing in Cassandra’s
eyes that would imply she was even listening to her. “And because…..I love him,”
Alexa added softly.

“How can you love him when you know what he has done?” Cassandra asked
disbelieving.

“It is because I love him that my love doesn’t die. It is because of my love for
him that I can find forgiveness and acceptance,” Alexa explained. Cassandra
thought about it.

“Very well. I won’t try to kill him for as long as you live,” she offered.

“I don’t ask that you forgive him or even like him but please…promise me you
won’t kill him,” Alexa begged. She couldn’t live with the knowledge that the day
she died Methos would be in danger. Cassandra considered it. The love that Alexa
had, the love that shore in her eyes and her voice when she spoke…it was that
kind of love Cassandra had searched for but never found.

“Very well. For you…I’ll not kill him unless he attacks me,” Cassandra finally
gave in and Alexa smiled brilliantly at her and hugged her close.

“Thank you,” she said warmly and meant it with all her being. Cassandra smiled
at her as they drove apart and Alexa sat down on one of the old potato sacks.
Cassandra did likewise. In that moment it was like there was a common bond
between them, created from shared experiences and being thrown together in what
could seem like a hopeless situation. Suddenly they heard the key being turned
in the door.

“Stand behind me,” Cassandra ordered as both women jumped to their feet.

“Kronos has reason to kill you, not me,” Alexa said and moved in front of
Cassandra.

“But….” Cassandra blinked surprised. A mortal protecting an Immortal?!

“Cass, you’ve done so much for me. Let me try and give a little back even if
this is just a gesture,” Alexa asked softly and Cassandra nodded, liking the
nickname the other woman had giving her. Cass…it reminded her of her friend
Duncan MacLeod as he also called her that.

The door opened and revealed Methos, carrying two bowls of something hot. The
smell reminded Alexa that she hadn’t eaten since earlier that morning.

“You alone?” Cassandra asked, her voice hard and cold as she addressed him.

“No,” the one word was said as a warning and Cassandra backed down and Alexa
moved, letting Methos come into the cell. The door was locked behind Methos, too
fast for Alexa to see who did it.

“You alright?” Alexa asked worried as Methos put the bowls down on the floor.

“I’m fine,” Methos calmed her and drew her into his embrace, always keeping
Cassandra in clear sight.

“I sensed another Immortal…. Caspian or Silas?” Cassandra asked, her voice
hate-filled, especially towards the first name.

“Methos wanted me to try and locate them. Caspian wasn’t so hard to find. He was
locked up in a mental prison nearby,” Methos explained.
”Where he should have stayed,” Cassandra said coldly. Methos didn’t reply.

“Silas?” she asked.

“I’m to find him too,” Methos admitted.

“Will we get out of this?” Alexa mumbled softly against Methos’s shoulder.
Methos stroked her hair.

“We will, adaliiaquatseliadanvdo[2]. We will,” Methos promised and she drew a
little back from him and forced a smile. He drew her down besides him and gave
her one of the two bowls, a spoon in each of them. It smelled good and she was
hungry. She began eating and Methos took the other bowl and reached it towards
Cassandra. Angered she knocked the bowl from his hands, spilling the food all
over the floor.

“This seems familiar,” Methos mumbled, remembering all the times Cassandra had
refused to eat in the past.

“I’m not your slave anymore. I know what and who I am now,” Cassandra said, her
eyes blazing.

“Please…don’t fight,” Alexa begged, putting a hand on Methos’s arm.

“Methos!” Kronos’s voice yelled from outside. Methos sighed.

“I have to go,” he said and gave Alexa a kiss. “I love you,” he whispered in her
ear.

“I love you too,” she said softly and reluctantly let him go. She stood up with
him to make sure she saw him for as long as she could. As the key in the door
was turned Methos turned to look at Cassandra.

“I’m sorry. For everything,” he said sadly to her. Before she could reply the
door was opened and Methos went out, forcing himself not to look back.



Part 7:

“What did you find out?” Scott asked as Logan and Rogue returned after having
checked Cassandra’s place out. Or rather, hotel room as they had found out she
had checked in to a hotel close by.  She had probably followed Methos or
Kronos…. or it was one of those twists of fate that someone enjoyed to play so
much.

“She wasn’t there,” Rogue told him as soon as Logan had closed the door to their
hotel room behind him. The room reminded him of some badly set up police
stakeout with Scott sitting at the desk with his laptop and Ororo sitting on the
floor, papers all around her and a phone close by. It had been 24 hours now.
Time was running out. They had to act fast.

“Wonderful,” Scott mumbled darkly. “Well, at least now we know who did it.”

“Actually we don’t,” Logan said and Scott looked confused at him.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that she didn’t do it. Not unless she had a fight with herself first.
The place was a mess. Almost too much so,” Logan explained.

“What do you mean; almost too much so?” Ororo wanted to know, concern in her
voice.

“It was like it was done on purpose, making it look like a struggle. I doubt
there ever was a fight though.”
”But you’re sure she didn’t do this herself?” Scott insisted.

“I smelled gunpowder. My guess is she was shot and whoever shot her messed her
room up.”

“Why? For us to find?” Ororo frowned.

“We also found this,” Rogue gave a napkin to Scott. On it was written ‘red
castle’ with a black pen.

“Red Castle. A place? A person?” Scott wondered out loud.

“Wait a minute…isn’t Red Castle what the castle around here is called because
it’s built with red bricks?” Ororo asked and they all looked at her.

“I don’t know. I didn’t get to read the tourist guide before we left home,”
Logan remarked.

“It sounds right. See if you can get it confirmed,” Scott ordered and Ororo
called the reception to see what she could find out.

“Who do you think left the note for us?” Rogue wanted to know.

“Methos?” Scott looked to Logan.

“Probably.”
”That means he kidnapped Cassandra. Why?” Scott mumbled.

“To keep Alexa safe,” Rogue answered his question though it hadn’t really been a
question.

“We can then assume that at least one of the horsemen will be there, probably
them all. Unfortunately they all changed names over the centuries and since I
don’t know what either of them looks like I can’t say for sure if we’re up
against three Immortals or less,” Scott explained.

“The big castle above the town IS called Red Castle,” Ororo clarified after
having hung up the phone.

“Right then. Tonight, in the cover of darkness we go in,” Scott suggested and
the others nodded.

“Let’s go,” Logan said and went towards the door.

“Wait, we need a plan,” Scott’s voice stopped him.

“Oh, yeah. You have one in mind?”

“Yes. Kind of. Let’s assume that Alexa can’t protect herself. I seriously doubt
Methos would teach her swordfight and it’s a very big maybe on a gun. So, our
priority is to keep her safe as she dies a lot more permanently than Methos,”
Scott thought out load.

“Alexa and Cassandra would probably be kept downstairs, preferably in a
basement. Too many escape opportunities upstairs,” Logan figured. He refused to
even think the thought that maybe they were already dead.

“There’s four of us and let’s assume three of them,” Scott began as a thought
suddenly occurred to him. What if Methos had changed sides? Could he have been
turned? He had no doubt that there had to have been a special bond between the
horsemen and especially between Kronos and Methos but had Kronos’s control over
Methos faded or……

“I know what you’re thinkin’, Cyke. He wouldn’t,” Logan denied, sure of it.

“He wouldn’t what?” Rogue and Ororo asked at the same time. Logan and Scott
looked at each other, one of them having to back down to trust the other. Scott
broke the stare.

“Okay,” Scott nodded and Logan smiled.

“Nothin’, darlin’,” he answered Rogue’s question and gathered her in his arms.
He knew what it was like to have a dark past and a darker side to your soul as
he had with the animal side of himself; Wolverine but love was the best way to
control such basis needs and he had no doubt that Methos’s love for Alexa would
keep him sane…..for as long as she lived as Rogue’s love would keep him
sane……for as long as she was with him.

“We’ll all need a gun and a dagger or a sword. Logan and I will go after Kronos,
he sounds like the hardest one. Ororo and Rogue will look for Alexa and
Cassandra and bring them to safety. I’ll leave Methos to deal with either
Caspian or Silas. If there’s one left Logan or I’ll go for him. Agreed?” Scott
looked around and the others nodded.

“It’s a plan,” Logan agreed. Now the only question was…….would the plan work?



Part 8:

Methos sat in the livingroom, pretending to read a book. All he wanted to do was
go get Alexa as far away from here as possible but that wasn’t an option. He
looked at the two other people in the room. Especially now...

“Don’t you dare touch it,” Silas yelled angrily as Caspian had gone towards his
cage with his three small white nice. He had been here for some seven hours yet
already Silas had gathered several pets.

“You’re more nuts than me. It’s a stupid animal,” Caspian said coldly and took
out a nice, holding it up in it’s hale.

“Put it back,” Silas demanded, picking up his awe to back up his threat. Now,
this was familiar. Silas and Caspian had always fought….only before Methos had
always tried to stop them, stepping between them. No way was he risking his life
getting between them now. Ignoring them his eyes returned to his novel.

“Ha! This one’ll make a nice appetizer. I think I’ll take the rest for dessert,”
Caspian teased cruelly and Methos remembered that his sick humour and desire to
play games with trapped beings, mortals or animals, was something he had always
had.

“No,” Silas yelled furiously and attacked him, his awe raised. Caspian quickly
sidestepped and picked up his sword, blocking the blow. Silas was a big, heavy
man with a not unpleasant face. Caspian was slender but more cunning and cruel.
Methos wouldn’t bet on the outcome of this fight.

“Stop!” Kronos yelled, anger in his voice. Reluctantly Silas and Caspian drew
apart. “We never raise a blade against each other, isn’t that right, Methos?”

Methos lifted his head from his novel, forcing a smile.

“You said it,” he settled with.

“A dozen times I tried to take up the old ways. I failed. The others I rode with
were trash. Scum. I had no one to plan my raids, no one who understood the true
use of terror. You are one of a kind, Methos. As we all were. There was never a
band like us. Never in all history,” Kronos explained, his eyes shinning with
the anticipation of a fight.

“When do we attack?“ Silas wanted to know, holding his mouse in his hand, gently
stroking it. It was strange to imagine that those hands, so gentle towards
animals, had killed, tortured and raped so many.

“Methos, I trust you have a plan,” Kronos said as he raised an eyebrow at him.
Earlier that day Kronos had showed Methos all his weapons and there weren’t
anything he didn’t have; he had everything from guns, viruses and even a nuclear
bomb though having lived for more than 3000 years it didn’t surprise Methos that
he’ll have the cash for it. He himself had the cash if he chose to use them on
weapons but as far as he was concerned mortals did a pretty good job blowing
each other up on their own as it was.

“I’ll focus on the virus you have. Incurable, you say?” Methos began.

“Yes,” Kronos confirmed.

“Start spreading the virus through the air channels in city hall,” even now he
couldn’t help but to suggest strategies and ideas which he knew could make
Kronos win.

“That’s your big plan? A few hundred people in a public building? How many do
you think that would kill? You've gone soft, Methos.” Kronos said disbelieving.
“Maybe I was wrong about you,” the last was added with a clear warning.

“It's a prelude. Have you read Aristotle's Poetics? No, of course not. You
haven't even seen Casablanca,” the others didn’t seem to know if that was an
insult or not. “Don’t you know the first rule of drama?” Methos asked irritated.
It was a good plan.  “Start small and build. A government building now to kill a
hundred, a city next to kill a thousand, one drop of the virus in the water
supply…” Methos spread his arms out to indicate they could guess what was next.
“Then we give them a choice; the horsemen rule or they all die,” Methos’s voice
sounded excited as he explained. It was a good plan. It could work. They could
rule the world, no one could stop them; no one. Suddenly, Alexa’s image came to
him as it had before. Her voice, soft and gentle as she whispered; ‘I’ll always
love you. And I’ll always forgive you.’ He couldn’t help but smile just at the
thought of her. Ruling the world or loving her for the rest of her life. There
was no comparison; he had tried the first and wished nothing more than to do the
last.

“The horsemen rule or the world dies,” Kronos corrected. Oh, yeah. Great plan.
Kill everything and everyone we were supposed to rule over, Methos thought
darkly. Kronos and Caspian had always loved killing more than anything which
often made them make irrational decisions…at least in Methos’s opinion.

“Something like that,” Methos agreed.

”We are the Four Horsemen. No band of men has ever been crueler or more feared.
Remember that,” Kronos said, his words were for them all but his eyes were on
Methos. Kronos stretched out his hand and Caspian immediately laid his above it.
Silas did the same. Slowly, with a cat’s grace, Methos stood up from his chair
and put his hand above Silas’s. Kronos nodded in satisfaction as they drove
apart.

“Caspian, help me get the virus ready. We’ll spread it tonight,” Kronos ordered
and he left with Caspian. Tonight. That didn’t leave a lot of time. It had been
a little more than 24 hours since he had tried to contact Logan. They had to
come now or never. He couldn’t stop three Immortals all alone. If Logan didn’t
arrive…he’ll have to take the chance and release Alexa and Cassandra, hoping
that he’ll be able to get away and that Kronos wouldn’t find him.

“Hey there, little friend,” Silas said softly and smiled at a monkey in a cage.
Kronos had tested his virus on monkeys and had tons of them in another room down
the hall. Silas must have taken a monkey from there. As he stood there, playing
and talking with the small animal who like all animals liked him, he reminded
Methos of a child or his baby brother; both ways in which he had thought of
Silas. Methos nearer Silas, deep in thought. If it came down to it….could he,
would he kill a brother, a friend…..a man who was the closest to family he had
left?

“Silas,” Methos began but didn’t know what to say. Silas turned his attention
from the monkey to him.

“Methos, you look troubled,” concern was in his voice and Methos couldn’t help
but smile. He had always been the only one who could see if something was
troubling him.

“Just thinking,” Methos blocked. Maybe he could convince Silas to help him. Then
he’ll never have to make a choice for his life or death for it was a choice he
hoped he didn’t have to make.

“Ah, you were always good at that, eh? And after all these years, you still
are,” Silas remarked, his voice in his soft tones. Only in battle would his
voice ever raise above that childish softness.

“It's nothing like the old days, is it?” Silas added as he turned back to watch
the monkey.

“What do you mean?” Methos asked, hoping he’ll say he didn’t like it, that he
had changed.

“I don't like this killing from a distance. I like to feel my axe in my hands.
Look into my enemy's eyes before I strike,” Silas explained, his eyes shinning
with bloodlust. No, not you too, Silas, Methos thought sadly.

“Soon enough,” Methos answered, his voice soft. Only it may not be an enemy
you’re facing, old friend. It might be…….me.

“You don't think the virus will work,” Silas stated, surprised. Methos’s plans
always worked.

“It will work,” Methos shook his head. “ Silas, for 2000 years, we've lived
without this. We have lived without the blood, the fear, the power,” he tried to
explain; hoping Silas would see what he meant.

“And for 2000 years, I've dreamed of the day when we would ride again! Like you
always said, Methos — we live, we grow stronger, and we fight,” Silas said
excited. Please, don’t throw my own words back at me, Methos begged silently,
closing his eyes briefly. When Methos opened his eyes again he looked intensely
at Silas. Why couldn’t you have changed? 3000 bloody years! Even mountains
change in that time! Why couldn’t you?

“I'll see you later,” Methos finally said, his voice sounding tired. Silas
nodded, for the first time not sensing Methos’s mood or maybe he didn’t want to.
Silas looked at his monkey, his lips going up in a smile.

“Do you think he'll let me have one?” he asked, turning back towards Methos.

“What?” Methos asked surprised, turning back to face him.

“Monkey. I like this one,” Silas pointed to the monkey in the cage. Methos
smiled softly, bittersweetly. A child of heart, a murderer by hand. What a
strange combination.

“I'll ask him,” Methos promised, knowing Silas never had and still didn’t dare
ask Kronos for anything. If Kronos would object to this, Methos would be the one
to take the blame. His eyes softened as he looked at Silas again, his eyes
shinning with happiness as he played with the monkey. It was the least he could
do.

“Thank you, brother,” Silas said warmly, continuing to play with his new pet.
Methos watched him for a while before he turned on his heels and walking away,
his hands deep in his coat pockets.

“Don’t thank me………little brother,” Methos mumbled ever so softly, so softly that
no one heard.



Part 9:

“It is time, brothers,” Kronos announced as he walked into the livingroom,
holding a devise in his hands. A bomb holding something of the virus, Methos
guessed. It was now or never. Where was Logan?

“Then we ride,” Caspian said and with Kronos in the lead they began walking
towards the front door. Come on, come on. What’s keeping him? Methos thought
fanatically. What if he had been mistaken? What if Logan wouldn’t speak for him,
wouldn’t come for him?

Suddenly the weather changed from a clear star filled night to dark clouds,
thunder and rain. Ororo was here!

“Something’s not right,” Kronos warned just as the light went out in the entire
castle. Good call Logan. Or had it been Scott? Whatever. Methos used the
darkness to move away from the others, going towards the stairs to downstairs.
He would remember the way to Alexa in his sleep and had no trouble finding it in
the darkness. He was halfway down the stairs when the lights came back on.
Kronos quickly looked around and spotted Methos disappearing down the stairs.

“Silas. Go after him. Make sure he kills the women,” Kronos ordered, far from
sure that was Methos’s plan.

“I will,” Silas promised and went down the stairs after Methos. Before Kronos
could think of anything further the front door was blasted open, a red beam
cutting through it.

“Seek cover,” Kronos ordered and Caspian and him sought cover in different
rooms. Kronos saw four people enter, two men and two women, all mortals. The
power display at the door betrayed that they wouldn’t be all that easy to kill
but still not impossible. They were mortals after all. Getting an idea Kronos
moved silently from his hiding place in one of the living rooms and towards the
room where he had stored the guns. He found the door open and saw that some of
the guns were missing; Caspian must have gotten the same idea as him. Quickly
Kronos took two guns and two knifes before he went out, a smile on his face.
Hunting time!



                                                   ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Methos,” Silas yelled and Methos cursed. Why had him followed him? Why him?
Methos forced himself to wait as Silas came to him and the fact that he had his
axe in his hand, ready to attack didn’t go unnoticed by Methos.

“Kronos wants the women killed,” Silas explained and Methos nodded.

“I thought he might,” Methos admitted and as they reached the women’s cell and
he turned the key he hoped for a miracle he knew wouldn’t happen.  As he opened
the door Silas entered and Alexa and Cassandra moved towards the back wall.
Casting a look at Methos Silas went for Cassandra, getting a hold of her arm and
forcing her towards the door and down on her knees on the floor.

“No! Don’t!” Cassandra protested, her still handcuffed hands making her attempts
at escape useless. Methos knew Silas had taken Cassandra first to let Methos
kill his woman himself. It was considerate in a twisted sort of way but when had
their relationship been anything but twisted? Taking a deep breath Methos took
out his sword and stepped forth from the shadows and into the cell.

“Methos,” Alexa said relived, not sure what to do. She couldn’t take on Silas,
she had no weapons and no battle training at all but she didn’t want to see
Cassandra dead. Methos smiled at her, relived to see her well before his whole
attention returned to Silas and Cassandra. He hadn’t helped her all those years
ago, he had let Kronos drag her away, hearing her beg for him to help her yet he
had done nothing. Not again. As Silas’s axe were inches from Cassandra’s neck
Methos blocked the stroke with his sword. Silas looked surprised at him.

“You're challenging me? For the girl's head? Take it. She's yours, brother,”
Silas offered, stepping a little back.

“I am not your brother!” Methos yelled.

Don’t call me, brother. Not now when I’m to kill you. Don’t, he thought
desperately. He forced himself to take a swing at Silas who surprised drew back
and backed out the door to the women’s cell, seeking somewhere with more room
for a swordfight.

“How can you do this? How can you go against what you are?” Silas wanted to
know, truly puzzled. Methos watched Silas carefully as he stood in the hallway,
his awe raised.

“You don't know anything about me!” Methos yelled and that was the problem; he
had changed; Silas hadn’t. He turned back to look at Cassandra, now on her feet,
standing close to Alexa. They both seem all right though scared and upset.

“Step closer,” Methos instructed Cassandra. Cassandra looked suspiciously at
him.
”Please. Do as he asks,” Alexa asked softly and guarded Cassandra stepped
closer, ready to bolt if he tried anything. Methos lifted his sword and cut
through her handcuffs; freeing her.

“Stay here,” Methos said to them both.

“Be careful,” Alexa asked, giving him a quick kiss and an embrace.

“I will,” Methos promised and turned to go to Silas, still standing waiting in
the hallway. Only Silas would have done that; given him time to say a few words
to his woman. Back then, Silas had been the most humane of them all and the only
one Methos had truly cared for if he lived or died. How ironical that they
should now fight, knowing only one of them would walk away.



                                                   ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Logan, can you hear anything?” Scot asked, his right hand close to his glasses.
Logan and him were after Kronos as planned, keeping down and close to the wall
behind some furniture for cover. Logan sniffed the air.

“He’s close,” Logan whispered.

“Thanks, Sherlock,” Scott mumbled, trying to see movement. Kronos had most
likely been a warrior, a killer, all his life. They had to be really careful.
Suddenly they heard a shot and a hiss of pain. Ororo, Scott thought worried.
Please, let her be all right.

“Rogue!” Logan yelled, going towards the sound.

“Don’t,” Scott protested as Logan stood up and all but ran over the floor, his
only concern his wife. Scott ran after him when he suddenly saw a man with a gun
raised from the other room, pointing straight at Logan. A shot sounded.

“Down,” Scott yelled and knocked Logan to the floor. Scott hissed in pain as the
bullet grazed his right arm. More shots followed and Logan all but dragged Scott
to safety behind a sofa.

“God damn it,” Logan swore hotly. He could feel a bullet had grazed his left leg
but it was already healing. “You alright?” Logan turned to Scott.

”Just great,” Scott hissed and Logan saw that besides the wound in his arm, a
bullet had also entered his right leg. It looked and was painful.

“Stay here,” Logan demanded and Scott nodded, grimacing.

“I can’t do much of anything else,” he admitted, trying to keep the pain from
his voice.

“I’ll get that bastard for this,” Logan promised and put a gently hand on
Scott’s shoulder.

“Be careful,” Scott asked as Logan carefully walked towards the room from where
the shot had sounded. Logan half smiled though Scott couldn’t see it.

“Careful is my middle name,” he teased and Scott choked a laugh that turned into
a grimace from the pain. Logan took his gun from its holster. Normally he never
fought with guns but he knew how to use them and use them well and in this
case…….he didn’t take any chances. He sniffed the air. He was close. A sound too
low for any normal ear to hear caught his attention. He was still in the other
room. He concentrated hard. The man’s breathing. Slow, even, controlled. From
the far left corner. Logan stood by the wall just outside the room. He took a
deep breath. Now. Quickly Logan knelt on one knee, aimed at the far left corner
and fired. There was a sofa in the corner but Logan’s shooting had the desired
effect; Kronos was forced to leave his hiding place and he ran to find another,
shooting back at Logan. Logan clashed his teeth together against the pain as
several bullets caught him and he saw that Kronos did the same. Logan knew he
had the advantage; Immortals died as quickly and from as ‘few’ wounds as
mortals. Only difference was they woke up again.  Logan’s healing powers
however, made him able to stay conscious and awake for far longer than normal
people; his endurance to pain was stronger and his body’s own healing rate so
fast that so far he had never been ill or died from any wounds…which of course
was a good thing as he couldn’t return when first killed.

“Who are you?” Kronos yelled, his voice pain filled as he hid behind a big old
wooden chest. Logan had hit him 3 places; in both arms and his right leg. He
knew he had hit his opponent at least five times. Why wasn’t he dead by now? Any
mortal would be died.

“Would you believe; your worst nightmare?” Logan said grimly as he walked
further into the room, his gun ready and pointing straight at the chest.

Oh, I believe that, Kronos thought darkly. A man he couldn’t kill? An opponent
who wouldn’t die? That was a nightmare indeed. Kronos felt how his life was
running out, the wounds were deadly. He had to kill his opponent now or else it
wouldn’t help him that gun wounds only gave him a temporally death for Kronos
doubted ‘fair play’ was in his enemy’s vocabulary. Not that it was in Kronos’s
but that was another story.

Now or never. Kronos checked both his guns, took a deep breath and stood up from
behind the chest, shooting wildly at Logan while running as fast as he could
towards the other room. Logan swore as more bullets entered him and fired at
Kronos, again and again. Kronos’s legs gave under him and he fell to the floor,
his guns slipping from his grip as his own blood running from wounds in his arms
made his hands wet. Logan went to him and hovered over him.

“Who *are* you?” Kronos hissed, hate but also a hint of fear in his voice.
Having lived for 1000th of years didn’t make the thought of death easy; on the
contrary. Logan smiled deadly and popped his claws, enjoying the look of alarm
in Kronos’s eyes as he saw his opponent standing over him, three claws from each
hand. Three very sharp claws looking like small swords.

“Told you, bub……yer worst nightmare,” Logan grinned mercilessly as Kronos fought
death a few seconds more until his eyes closed and he lay still. “If you have
harmed Rogue this is too good a death for you,” Logan mumbled darkly as he bent
down and with a quick move, slashed his claws through Kronos’s neck, killing him
for good.



                                                   ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Can you see him?” Ororo whispered to Rogue, both women walking slowing,
silently, down the hallway. Well, Rogue walked, Ororo flew a few mm’s above the
floor to be sure she made no sound.

“No,” Rogue said frustrated.

They reached a dark room, probably one of the living rooms. Ororo considering
making a wind in the room but if their opponent wasn’t in the room but in one of
the others he’ll hear it and have a clear opportunity to kill them.

“We have to check this room,” Ororo whispered, nodding towards the dark room.
They were just outside the entrance to the room, keeping away from it so not to
be seen should their opponent be in the room. Rogue nodded.

“You go in, Ah’ll cover you,” Rogue said, holding her gun ready. Ororo disliked
weapons and though she like the others had a gun with her she hadn’t taken it
up, relying on her control over the weather to help her. Ororo nodded her
accept.

“Now,” Rogue said and Ororo quickly flew into the room, her eyes trying to get
used to the darkness to make out the shapes of the room as she was flying
towards a big chair to hide behind. Suddenly a shot sounded from the far side of
the room and Ororo hissed in pain. Having lost her concentration she fell to the
floor, lying valuable in the open.

“Ororo!” Rogue yelled and ran to her, firing towards the place where the shot
had come from. A dark figure moved away, seemly into the wall but as Rogue
looked more closely she saw that this room and the next was connected sideways.

“Is he gone?” Ororo asked, trying to keep the pain from her voice as she sat up.
Rogue helped her to her feet and they walked towards the hallway. Ororo held her
right hand over the wound in her left shoulder. It wasn’t deadly Rogue noticed
relived.

“He ran off. The other way,” Rogue explained. He hoped he wasn’t going after
Logan and Scott.



                                                   ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Methos blocked another blow from Silas, moving further down the hall. To Methos
the fight seemed to have gone on for a long time but it probably wasn’t so long.
Silas forced Methos backwards and they reached a round, globe like structure
that connected several hallways. Seeing his opening. Methos walked around Silas
and forced his sword down on Silas’s head, using a backhanded beheading he was
familiar with. In the Bronze Age swords had been short and not very sharp. They
weren’t able to behead a man from the front, lacking the power. A backhand that
started over the head developed enough power to cut off a head. Though Methos
carried a sword from the Middle Ages he still relied heavily upon his old
techniques and moves.

Methos took a deep breath as he saw Silas’s body fall.

“I’m sorry, baby brother,” he whispered softly, his voice sincerely sad.
Suddenly lighting developed and it all entered Methos, making him fall to his
knees, lose his grip on his sword and scream in pain. Never had it been so
painful in every way to kill another Immortal. Gradually the intensity of the
lighting faded until it disappeared.

“I killed Silas! I liked Silas!” Methos gashed, lowing his head to his knees,
sobbing.

“Yeah,” someone said from behind him; Caspian. Then he laughed “Well, to tell
the truth I never really liked him much anyway.”

Methos drew his breath in gasps, still too weak to do anything. Caspian raised
his sword and held it to Methos’s throat.

“I like you even less. Bye, ‘brother’,” Caspian said darkly, ready to strike.

“NO!” Alexa yelled frightened. Both men turned to look and saw Alexa in the
entrance to the globe, Cassandra standing behind her. Quickly Alexa ran towards
Methos and picked up his sword, lifting it to point at Caspian who looked
disbelieving at her.
”Are you challenging me, woman?” he asked disbelieving.

“You will not kill my husband. I won’t let you,” Alexa warned though her voice
wasn’t as strong as she hoped it’d be. She had no fight experience, she couldn’t
win.

“Alexa…no,” Methos got out, fighting to get to his feet but still too weak.

“Fine. I kill you and then him. Works for me,” Caspian said and took a swing at
her. Alexa backed away. She tried to swing the sword at him but missed by miles.
She hadn’t been prepared for the sword to feel so heavy in her hands. Methos had
always made it look so easy when she had seen him practice moves at home.

“Alexa. Throw me the sword,” Cassandra asked, coming up besides Alexa.

“Here,” Alexa threw the sword to Cassandra and ran to Methos, embracing him.
Caspian swung at Cassandra but she easily blocked.

“She’s gotten better,” Methos mumbled as he with Alexa’s help got to his feet.
They stood together, watching the fight. Caspian seemed to have gotten over the
shock of Cassandra actually being able to give him resistance and now seemed to
have the upper hand, driving her back.

“She might lose. Can’t you help her?” Alexa asked, looking up into his eyes, a
plea in them.

“I’m not supposed to,” Methos admitted. He looked around. There stood a shelf
close by, old bottles and books on it. Having almost regained his strength
Methos walked to the self and took down a bottle. Cassandra was now fighting
with her face towards him; Caspian had his back to him. ”Hey! Over here,” he
yelled and threw the bottle to Cassandra’s right. Instinctively, Caspian turned
towards the sound. Cassandra had of course seen Methos throw the bottle and
wasn’t surprised by the sound. She used Caspian’s split second of lost
concentration as she brought her sword down against Caspian’s neck, killing him.

“For my people,” she mumbled as lighting developed, entering her and she yelled
in pain, going to her knees and losing her grip on her sword. Methos thought it
a good time to make sure Cassandra didn’t have a sword nearby when she regained
her strength and picked up his sword before he stood back with Alexa. Finally
the lighting died out.

“You alright?” Alexa asked worried and ran to Cassandra, helping her to her
feet.

“I’m fine,” Cassandra insisted but she was still a little unsure on her feet.
Suddenly more lighting developed, seeming to come from above.

“Kronos,” Methos whispered. The lighting reached in and entered him and again he
fell to his knees.

“Move,” Cassandra yelled and pushed Alexa away from her as lighting focused on
her too. Alexa ran to stand as close to the wall as she could as lighting kept
entering Methos and Cassandra. She flinched in sympathy at their yells of pain.
Finally the lighting died out and Alexa ran to help Methos to his feet.

“What was that?” she asked confused. “I thought it only happened when you killed
one of your own.”

“It does. Logan must have killed Kronos,” Methos explained. When Alexa was sure
he was strong enough to stand on his own she went to Cassandra, helping her up.

“If mortals kills an Immortal…..” Cassandra began.

“…The lighting will still enter the closest Immortals,” Alexa guessed and
Cassandra nodded.

“Well, one thing’s for sure; you people sure know how to kill your own kind.
Your fireworks beats the fourth of July,” Logan remarked dryly as he stood in
the entrance to the globe, his clothes torn and bleeding from several places.

“Logan! You came,” Methos said and walked to him, smiling sincerely and giving
his friend a hug.

“That’s twice you owe me,” Logan teased.

“Don’t remind me,” Methos grimaced. He hated owing anybody anything.

“I’ll repay my debt to you. Anytime, ask anything of me and I shall do it,”
Methos vowed. “Within reason,” he mumbled more out of habit than anything. He
doubted Logan would save him just to ask for his head but one never could be too
careful. Logan laughed.

“You never stop.”

“Only a blade would do that,” Cassandra remarked as she came to them but her
voice didn’t hold the edge of hate it had before. Alexa smiled as she saw Logan.
”Logan! So good to see you,” she said and hugged him close.

“Good to see you too, kid,” Logan said warmly and this time Methos smiled. Live
long enough and everyone is a kid.

“Logan, we have to get Scott to the hospital. Ororo too,” Rogue said as she
appeared behind the corner of the hallway.

“Rogue! You’re alright,” Alexa said relived and smiled. Logan smiled too as he
saw Rogue. The first ting he had done when he had killed Kronos was going to
look for Rogue. He had been relived to find she hadn’t been the one who had been
shot. He had left Rogue to take care of Scott and Ororo while he had gone to see
where Caspian had disappeared to.

“So are you,” Rogue answered happily and the two women embraced.

“Let’s go then,” Methos said and walked upstairs, Logan purposely walking
between Methos and Cassandra.



Part 10, one month later:

“John. John, don’t play with that,” Scott reproved his son, carefully taking
Methos’s expensive and very old China bowl from him and put it up on one of the
upper shelves so John couldn’t reach it again.

“Methos, will you make the table?” Alexa asked from the kitchen as she and Ororo
put some glasses and plates out on the table.

“Sure,” Methos agreed and stood up from the sofa where he had been talking with
Logan and Scott while the little rascal to Scott’s son had wreaked havok.

“I’ll help. Logan, look after John and Alexa,” Scott asked and Logan nodded.
Alexa was a quiet girl and easy to watch, she sat in one corner of the
livingroom, playing with her dolls. John on the other hand…..

“No,” Logan yelled as John had reached over to one of the small tables next to
the sofa, taking a crystal statuette of a rider on a horse down to play with.

“Go, go,” John said, smiling happily as he all but hammered the statuette down
on the wooden floor. Logan winced as the lower part of the horses legs broke
off. John didn’t seem to mind and played on.

“No, no. Give that to uncle Logan,” Logan insisted and took the statuette from
him. He looked to the pieces of the statuette on the floor. He looked up and saw
Methos and Scott still making the table in the dining room. Oh, what the Hell.
Logan picked the pieces up and threw them into the fireplace and placed the
statuette up on the small table again, making sure an ashtray supported it.

“Hon, come take the salad to the table,” Ororo asked and Scott carried the salad
in.

“What are we missing?” Alexa asked, looking around in the kitchen at the plates
of food and then to her three friends.

“I think we have everything,” Cassandra insisted. It was only on Alexa’s
invitation that she had agreed to come to dinner at hers and Methos’s home
though she had to admit that her desire to see Methos dead wasn’t as strong now
that she had seen first hand the kind of love Alexa shared with him.

“Okay, let’s get this inside then,” Rogue said and they took plates of food to
the table and Methos and Scott took the rest for them. Logan took Alexa and John
to the table and reading the place cards, sat down, seeing he’ll have Rogue to
his right and Methos to his left. Alexa had made place cards to be sure
Cassandra and Methos wouldn’t by accident be placed next to each other. She had
placed Cassandra between herself and Ororo, hoping some of Ororo’s calm and
sense of peace could be given to Cassandra. The children sat between their
parents, as they were still so young that they should have help when they ate.
After some normal confusion they all sat down. Soon, the food was passed around
and normal chatter filled the room, giving Alexa a wonderful feeling of
normality and peace.

“ But you had to know Kronos would come for you one day,” Logan said to Methos.

“I tried not to think about it,” Methos admitted. Just like he tried not to
think about he had killed Silas.

“ You didn’t kill Kronos. Why?” Logan wanted to know.

“For several reasons. Foremost because I couldn’t beat him. But also because he
was my brother, in arms and blood and everything except birth, and if I judged
him worthy to die, then I judged myself the same way,” he explained, the same
reason which had kept him from killing him so many years earlier. “And I wanted
to live. I still do,” he ended, the reason for doing almost anything; survival.

“You were sure I could kill him?”

Methos smiled.
”I never had a doubt. There are rules which you don’t follow, there are
certainties you don’t have…. you were the only one who could do it.”
”Now, you haven’t anymore old ‘friends’ from the past who wants to kill you, now
do you?” Logan teased, raising his glass to his lips.

“Actually, now that you mention it…..” Methos began and Logan almost choked in
his wine. Methos laughed. “Just kidding.”
”Not funny,” Logan bummed but his lips had turned upwards in a smile.

  “Why did you save me?” Alexa asked Cassandra, curious. Cassandra’s eyes became
clouded as she remembered something she wished she could forget.

“I’ve killed and been killed. I wished something, someone I knew to not be a
murderer; to remain pure,” she said softly and Alexa nodded.

“Thank you.”

Cassandra accepted her thanks with a nod of her head. Alexa looked at Methos
across the table, laughing at something Logan had said. He looked so young, so
carefree in that moment. He looked……happy.

“Cass…….I know I have no right to ask this……” she began.

“You can ask me anything but I’ll not promise I’ll do it,” Cassandra offered.

“When I’m…….gone,” she forced out. She didn’t like to think of her own mortality
but she was almost forty now. She had time, more than she had first thought, but
compared to Methos still so little time. So very little time.

“…..when I’m gone, look in on him for me. I don’t ask you to love him or even
like him……just……..I know Immortals get very lonely. If not for his sake then
yours as well. I’ll make him promise never to attack you or kill you unless in
self-defence,” she explained, having it all planned out. She wished she could
stay with Methos forever but she couldn’t. She wished to make sure that when she
was gone, Methos wouldn’t be all alone and Cassandra was the only Immortal she
had met who hadn’t tried to kill Methos which was kind of ironical considering
she had wanted him dead for so long.

“I will look in on him from time to time,” Cassandra promised, the deep of
Alexa’s love having touched her soul and heart. She wished she had such a deep
felt love.

“Thank you,” Alexa said warmly, knowing she could ever express with words all
what that meant to her. Methos wouldn’t be alone; not all the time at least.
When she was gone there’ll still be one soul who would look after him. It calmed
and pleased her.

“You look so serious. Something wrong?” Methos asked in her ear, startling her.
She had been lost in thought and hadn’t seen him walk around the table to her.

“No, I’m fine,” she smiled at him. He kissed her on the lips before he went to
kneel beside her chair, taking her hands in his. Cassandra was surprised by his
display of affection and that he was kneeling before her. Maybe…maybe he had
truly changed.

“I love you, aquetseliadanata[3]. You’re everything to me, I don’t know what
I’ll be without you and I don’t wish to know,” Methos said softly, his eyes
holding hers.

“I love you too,” Alexa said softly and he stood up and drew her into his
embrace and kissed her deeply. When they drew apart cheers were heard from
around the table and Methos smiled as he held Alexa tight. Laughter, smiles,
love and humour filled the rest of the night; seven friends bonding and having
fun.

Tonight was a good night and they’ll always remember it as such no matter if
they lived for another 40 years or another 4000 years.



The End


--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Translations to this story:

[1] Cherokee for ’My Heart’

[2] Cherokee for ’ Wife of my heart’

[3] Cherokee for ’My soul’

Hi. I am new to this and would appreciate any pointers anyone could give me

_________________________________________________________________
Send and receive Hotmail on your mobile device: http://mobile.msn.com

TITLE: No Choice At All
AUTHOR: Diana
EMAIL: dee@...
RATING: PG - concepts, and one little swearword
SUMMARY: Scott's life changes overwhelmingly.
DISCLAIMER: No ownership.  No money.  No nothing.
NOTES: It's been a long time.  I've missed it.  This is just a little snippet
of not much at all.  I did a half-hour improv exercise with a friend, and this
was the result.  The guidelines were the emotion "happy" and the words beam,
colour and dead.

====

It was gone, and he was happy.

Scott couldn't stop staring at his hand. Pink hand. But sort of browny, too,
paler around the knuckles and he could see the purpling of veins under the
skin. Myriad colours. Couldn't look beyond his hand. There was green blanket
on the edge of his vision, and that was almost too much. Too soon. Already the
jubilation was bubbling in the back of his throat, and all he'd done was stare
at his hand.

They'd given him a choice.

"An inhibitor," Hank had explained, pushing his glasses up his nose.
"Surgically implanted. And then some therapy, medication for the rest of your
life." A sudden, direct glance from owlish eyes. "It will be gone. Do you
understand that, Scott? Really understand that?"

He'd blinked, behind that infernal visor where no one could see. "Of course I
do."

Eye-beams, or colours.

In the end, it was no choice at all.


He was lying in the sun, and he was happy.

Hank let him out into the garden on nice days. Days when it was too nice to be
cooped up inside.

And now, he could lie in the sun. For as long as he wanted. The only part of
him that glowed afterwards was his skin, rosy pink with sunburn he'd never got
before. Never got when his body converted sunlight straight into pure force.

The first time he'd got sunburnt, he'd got it so badly he hadn't been able to
sleep that night for the pain. He lay awake until 4am, grinning in the
darkness.

That first day, there'd been the faintest creak of the approaching wheelchair.
He'd been expecting visitors.

"Hank tells me you'll be back on your feet soon. We need you, Scott."

The sun beat down on his closed eyelids, and he was full of joy, because the
energy went only one way. "What for? No eye-beams, no mutancy, no X-Men."

"That wasn't your only gift, Scott. There's always a place for you."

"Don't flatter me, Professor. I don't need it."

"What are you going to do, then?"

He shifted, skin warm. "Go somewhere. Back to Alaska, maybe."

The creak of the wheelchair moved away as Scott began to crisp.

Hanging around the past, or a new life.

In the end, it was no choice at all.


He was leaving, and he was happy.

He checked over the bike one more time, moving with care because he still
wasn't entirely used to the way the world moved differently now. But he liked
it better this way. Liked the blurring jaggedness at the edge of his vision
sometimes.

The bike was good to go. He was good to go. Bag was packed, strapped to the
back of the bike.

He was pulling on thin leather gloves when he heard the front door open behind
him. He didn't turn too fast; that made the world tilt. Didn't turn at all
until he heard her voice: "So you're really leaving."

Then he looked carefully back at her. "That's right."

She sighed, pushed white hair back over her shoulder. "This is shit, you know
that. She wouldn't have wanted this."

He turned away. "Ororo, don't."

She kept talking. She was like that. "It wasn't your fault."

He swung a leg over the bike. "I know."

She took another step closer. "She was dead when we got there."

His teeth clenched. The bike started with a liquid snarl.

But he could still hear her. "There was nothing we could have done."

Then he turned his head, looked straight at her with eyes that could see now.
"I know. That's why."

The bike revved once, and pulled away in a faint squeal of tires.

Staying in that world, or running away.

In the end, it was no choice at all.


-----
"Nietzsche is dead." - God

Title: Comfort Me with Apples
Author: Victoria P. [victoria_p@...]
Summary: "He could play the badass loner with everyone else, but she
*knew* him, knew his heart and mind and soul, and she knew he hurt, just
like everyone else. And it was her job to make sure that hurt was
bearable when it couldn't be avoided altogether."
Rating: R - sex
Disclaimer: All X-Men characters belong to Marvel and Fox; this piece of
fan-written fiction intends no infringement on any copyrights.
Archive: Lists, Muse's Fool. All others, please ask. I'll say yes.
Feedback: It's shagadelic, baby.
Notes: Thanks to Jen, Pete/M'Rae, Dot, and Meg. Written to the sounds of
"Hallelujah" (the Jeff Buckley version) and my own melancholia. *g*

~*~

Comfort Me with Apples

"Comfort me with apples: for I am sick of love."  Song of Solomon

~*~

It was sunny the day they buried Silver Fox.

Logan stood at the gravesite, and stared into the merciless sun, eyes
narrowed against the glare.

Rogue looked over at Ororo, pleading, and the weather witch inclined her
head slightly. Her eyes glazed over and the sky darkened, leaden clouds
rolling in from the east.

The service soon ended, and the adults and students from Xavier's School
headed back toward the parking lot.

Logan stayed behind, stoic until the end, as if standing guard over the
coffin of his dead lover.

Rogue settled on the grass a few feet away, waiting, watching. Her heart
ached with love for him, and pain for his loss. She knew he'd never love
her the way he'd loved Silver Fox, but she wanted to be there for him,
because she knew he needed a friend, now more than ever.

The clouds had dispersed and the sun was setting when Logan finally
headed toward the parking lot. Rogue rose, dusting grass and dirt off
her gray dress. It flared about her ankles, swaying gently in the warm
spring breeze as she moved. The sheer gray scarf around her neck trailed
behind her like a fairy pennon.

He stopped and waited for her, all the while avoiding her gaze. She knew
he hated to be pitied. She also knew how sympathy was sometimes the
hardest thing to bear, so she said nothing, just wrapped herself around
him on the motorcycle as he drove them home.

***

She followed him silently up to his room, her hand clasped tightly in
his. He didn't even seem to notice he'd taken it, and she bit back a
sigh. She was such a fixture in his life, she could probably dance naked
around the living room and he'd just ask if she were cold. She figured
it was one of the things about not aging like normal people that made
him forget she'd grown up. It irritated her, but she'd given up on
trying to prove it to him.

Silver Fox had often treated her like a child, as well. She knew it
wasn't meant maliciously, that she was no competition for the lovely
woman from Logan's past, but it had rankled.

She stopped that line of thought, remembering her mother's long-ago
admonitions not to speak (or think) ill of the dead.

And really, Silver Fox had died horribly, tragically, killed by
Sabretooth in a battle that never should have happened. She should have
retreated with the rest of the X-Men when the soldiers arrived to take
the Brotherhood into custody.

Rogue knew Logan blamed himself, and she knew he would carry it with him
forever unless she somehow convinced him that it wasn't his fault. He
could play the badass loner with everyone else, but she *knew* him, knew
his heart and mind and soul, and she knew he hurt, just like everyone
else. And it was her job to make sure that hurt was bearable when it
couldn't be avoided altogether.

She'd long since resigned herself to living like a nun, in service to
the Wolverine instead of to the distant and wrathful God of her
childhood. She knew Jean and Scott felt she was throwing herself away,
that just because she couldn't touch didn't mean she couldn't fall in
love and have a relationship. They didn't realize she'd done so the day
Logan had saved her life on the Statue of Liberty, if not the day
before, when he gave her a ride in his trailer.

He dropped heavily onto the bed; the sound of creaking springs brought
her back to the present. He still had hold of her hand, so she curled up
next to him, dangling her still-booted feet off the bed and resting her
head on his chest.

They slept for a while, and when she woke, it was dark. She could tell
Logan was already awake, his body tense beneath hers.

"Shh," she whispered, rubbing her cheek against the soft cotton of his
shirt, as her gloved hands traced soothing circles on his chest.

"Marie." His fingers tangled in her hair, raising her face to his.

"It's okay," she answered. "I understand."

He shook his head, eyes dark with some emotion she couldn't identify.
She raised a hand and gently ran her thumb over his eyebrows, the arch
of his cheekbones, his lips.

"Marie." This time it was more of a groan, and she pulled away, afraid
she might have hurt him. He'd never minded her touch, never reacted
badly, but she knew she could be scary, even covered head-to-toe.

"I'm sorry," she said, levering herself up off the bed hastily. He
reached out and took her hand again, his grip adamant.

"Don't be," he replied. "Don't ever be sorry, darlin'." She swallowed
hard at the whiskey and sandpaper edge in his voice. It couldn't be
right to want him so much even when he was in pain.

"Do you want me to go?"

He hauled her back down onto the bed. "I want you to stay," he
whispered, his mouth tantalizingly close to her ear, his breath sending
shivers down her spine.

She sat up and he grunted. "I'm just going to take my boots off, Logan."

"Good idea." He followed suit, then lay back again, pulling her with
him.

They rearranged themselves on the bed, and this time, he was the one
whose hands started wandering, tracing idle circles over the small of
her back. She snuggled in closer, her legs tangling with his, making her
aware of the moist heat centered between her legs.

He continued stroking her back, but with his other hand reached over to
the night table to grab a pair of gloves. After pulling them on, he
traced her features. Neither of them was breathing steadily when he was
done. She looked up into his eyes, heavy-lidded and dark with what
looked like desire.

Rogue found herself unbuttoning his shirt, years of dressing and
undressing in gloves making her fingers nimble. She opened the shirt and
stared down at the broad expanse of his chest, flashing back suddenly to
the first time she'd seen him.

She gulped, and his mouth quirked in a half-grin that made her melt. He
reached out and took her hand, placing it over his heart. "Please?" he
asked, and she knew how much that must have cost him.

She began touching him again, feeling the soft mat of his hair through
the thin cotton of her gloves. She stared, fascinated, at the play of
muscle beneath flawless olive skin, only gradually becoming aware of his
hands moving over her in much the same way.

"Logan?"

"Tell me it's okay," he pleaded.

"It's okay, sugar. It's all gonna be okay," she murmured, pressing
herself flush against him and throwing one of her legs over both of his.
Her long gray skirt pooled around their hips. She straddled him, her
body seeming to know instinctively what to do, even though she wasn't
that experienced. She simply rocked back and forth, stroking his chest
and shoulders in what she hoped was a soothing manner.

His hands moved up under her dress, the leather cool against her heated
skin. And then he cupped her breasts, thumbing her nipples. The
sensations he produced made her gasp in shock, and he smiled.

God, she'd do anything to make him smile. It couldn't be wrong. Not
after all the pain he'd suffered.

His hands fumbled with the clasp to her bra and she giggled. "Having
some trouble there, sugar?"

He growled, so she reached around and undid it for him, sliding it off
through her sleeve. "Damn gloves," he muttered, and she could feel her
smile falter. He must have noticed it too, because he pulled her down on
top of him, one hand still stroking and kneading her breasts while the
other skated the curve of her hip.

"Logan? If you don't want--"

"I do," he interrupted. "Don't stop."

She used her scarf to press kisses to his face and chest, thinking only
of making him happy, keeping him safe and warm and comforted, here in
the cocoon of her arms.

His hands were more insistent now, moving from her hips to her ass and
then making her jump in surprise when she felt leather on the inside of
her thigh. He took advantage and rolled them over, pinning her beneath
him as he lavished kisses on her through the scarf. She ran her hands
over his body, finally stopping at his zipper. He raised an eyebrow,
then groaned when she freed his cock. He guided her strokes, showing her
what he liked, and she felt her own arousal grow as she recognized the
power she held.

His nostrils flared, and she could feel the blush stealing up her cheeks
when she realized he could smell her, and that her scent was turning him
on even more.

He gave a predatory smile, fierce and triumphant as he slit a hole in
her pantyhose and stroked her sex. She gasped and his tongue was in her
mouth. She was all sensation, his hands leaving incendiary trails along
her already-burning skin. Then his hands were gone and she heard a low
whine; it took her a second to realize it came from her own throat. His
grin was back, and she bared her throat to him instinctively. He nipped
at her clavicle as he pressed the condom into her hand, then helped her
roll it on.

He braced himself on his elbows and looked down into her eyes. "You
sure?" he asked, and the ferocity was gone, replaced by tenderness that
made her heart ache.

"Yes, Logan," she answered. <Always.>

He slowly pushed into her slick passage, his eyes locked on hers. She
bit her lip at the strangeness of it. She tensed and he stopped.

"Marie?"

"S'okay," she told him. "Just... different."

Realization dawned on his face and she turned away, once again blushing,
all her awkwardness returning. <God, remind him you're a virgin. Way to
keep the mood going.>

"Look at me," he demanded, cupping her chin. "This is -- different --
for me, too."

She nodded. "It must be weird to be with someone you can't touch."

"Not that. Because it's you."

"Oh." She shifted, trying to get used to the feel of him inside her,
trying to figure out what he meant and failing. Coherent thought fled as
his fingers began circling over her clitoris. "Oh!"

"Is that better?"

She swallowed hard and nodded again. "Please--" Her voice sounded
strange -- all high and needy and not like herself at all.

He ran his thumb over her full lower lip before taking her mouth in
another kiss. His hands were everywhere, pushing her knees a little
wider, touching her face, rubbing circles around her clit as he sheathed
himself fully in her tight sex.

"God, Marie," he breathed. Again, he waited for her to adjust before
thrusting his hips, slowly at first, then faster as he began to lose
control. She wrapped her legs around him and began to move with him, her
body tautening like a bowstring. She knew she was heading for what would
most likely be the most intense orgasm of her life when he groaned and
pumped jerkily into her.

Even through the condom she could feel the warmth of his come, and she
clenched her inner walls around him, as if in making him climax inside
her, she could absorb his sorrows the way her skin absorbed his life
when they'd touched.

He collapsed on top of her, but gently, so she didn't have to bear his
full weight. He buried his head between her breasts, and when he finally
looked up at her, she could see a single tear trailing down his cheek
before it fell, salty and wet, onto her dress.

She protested when he pulled out, but he shucked the condom and she
realized that, of course, that had to be done. He zipped his pants
carefully, buttoned up his shirt, and gathered her close. He was asleep
within moments.

She blinked, staring at the ceiling, heart still racing, body still taut
and frustrated at the abrupt end of their coupling.

Slowly, so as not to wake him, she slid a hand between her legs and
quietly finished what he'd started, before she, too, drifted off to
sleep.

***

He surfaced slowly, enjoying the languid transition between dreaming and
waking in a way that he seldom had before. Usually he woke in a cold
sweat, rushing out of sleep, with the nightmares chasing him, clinging
tenaciously to his mind.

He felt her warmth wrapped around him and inhaled deeply.

Marie. God.

Really, they might have been the same thing, as far as he was concerned.
Though if there was a God, Logan thought he'd still prefer Marie. At
least then he'd know love and mercy were forthcoming, and heaven could
be had on earth.

He ran a hand over his eyes.

She'd been a virgin. Up until last night, no one had ever touched her
the way he'd touched her. It made him want to beat his chest and howl in
triumph, while at the same time, he felt like the biggest bastard ever.

He'd taken advantage of their friendship. He'd *known* she wouldn't say
no, known she'd do anything to comfort him. And he'd accepted it.

He was the Wolverine, and he was now looking for pity fucks from the
woman he loved. It was apparently the only way he was ever going to get
her.

He cursed silently at the way his body responded to the feel of her
pressed against him. She was his best friend, his drinking buddy, his
confidante.

His girl.

Two silly little words that meant everything, if they meant anything at
all.

His best friend. The thought almost made him laugh, even in his grief.
The idea that this slip of a girl -- woman, now -- could be his best
friend would have made him howl in laughter six ears ago. Hell, the idea
that the Wolverine would even *have* a best friend, let alone a young
female one with whom he wished to share even more, was so improbable
that if he hadn't been living it, he wouldn't have believed it himself.

If she knew his feelings toward her had grown, that he had fallen in
love with her, he was sure she'd go running in the other direction.

She moved in her sleep then, clocking him on the nose with one
outstretched hand as she turned over. He inhaled deeply, imprinting the
scent of her arousal on his brain. And then he frowned; the realization
that he'd rolled over and fallen asleep, sated, leaving her unsatisfied
and having to take care of her own release increased his own
self-disgust.

He shifted uncomfortably. If he were honest with himself, which he tried
to be, he'd admit he squirmed, embarrassed at his own selfishness.

Yet more proof that he was no good for her.

He took the small hand and kissed her palm tenderly. He could wake her
up and show her, he thought. He could make her writhe beneath him and
scream his name as she came. His body thought it was a good idea, and he
slid one hand down her side to rest on the curve of her hip, making lazy
circles on her belly with his thumb.

Her eyes fluttered open and for a moment, in their dazed and sleepy
depths, he could almost believe that she loved him, that she hadn't
simply been offering comfort in the only way he would allow.

"Logan?" She pushed the hair out of her eyes and he thought she looked
beautiful, all sleepy and disheveled, her cheeks flushed and her lips
swollen. He loved that he'd done that to her, even if he hadn't finished
the job himself. "You okay?"

"Yeah, darlin'. How you feeling?"

She smiled then, a secret smile that made fire run in his veins. Maybe--

"I'm," she paused, blushed, and dropped her gaze. He ran a gloved finger
down her cheek but said nothing. Just waited, hoped. "I'm a little sore,
I think." And that answered that question. Had he really been expecting
some sort of declaration of love? <I really am an ass.>

He must have frowned again, because she added, "But it's okay. Really.
I'm okay. I just want you to be okay, too." She bit her lip and dipped
her head, the silk of her hair spilling over his hand. "I'm so sorry
about Silver Fox. I know how much you loved her. How much she meant to
you." He wouldn't -- couldn't -- deny that. She'd been a beautiful
woman, proud and strong and passionate. Even if he couldn't remember it,
she'd been part of his past, and he'd loved her for it, for giving that
back to him.

But it wasn't the same as what he felt for Marie. The past was exactly
what Silver Fox was, what she'd meant. He'd thought Marie was his
future, but she'd seemed oblivious to his advances, chaste as a nun in
her long skirts and black turtlenecks.

Until last night.

He'd needed her and she'd been there. She always was.

He wondered why she hid herself in long skirts and shapeless sweaters,
because after last night, it was obvious that her skin was no obstacle,
and her body was beautiful -- strong and lithe and made to fit against
his.

Marie wasn't done talking. "I can't, I can't even imagine what it must
be like for you. I wish, I wish I could do more to help."

He swallowed hard, hope dying in his heart. He suddenly felt trapped by
this conversation, by the whole awkward situation. He got out of bed
abruptly. "I'm going to go north for a while." A snap decision, made
before he screwed up and took advantage of her again, ruining their
friendship for good. He could get over this. He *would* get over this.
He was the Wolverine, and he was not in love with a woman who didn't
love him back.

She nodded, her hair falling into her eyes, masking her expression. "Of
course." She looked around, and he felt her withdraw before she even
left the room. "I guess I better go then, so you can get ready." She
scrambled off the bed, grabbing her boots and bra from the floor, a
bright red blush staining her cheeks again.

He cursed himself. It was her first time, and he was making a mess out
of it, practically throwing her out of the room. <Say something, dammit.
And something good. Not something stupid.> She was at the door when he
croaked, "Marie?" She turned, hand on the doorknob, a questioning look
on her face. His mind raced with things he wanted to say. 'I'm sorry I'm
a selfish bastard.' It was true, but he didn't think it would work --
she'd only smile sadly and leave. He knew her well enough to know that.
'Give me a chance and I'll make you come so hard you pass out' seemed a
little crude for someone who'd just had sex the first time, even by his
standards.

"Logan?" she prompted.

"I'm sorry I-- I didn't mean to take advantage," he blurted, watching in
horror as hurt chased shock across her face. "You're still my girl,
right?"  <Oh, God, I am an ass. Please let me be struck by lightning
right *now*.>

"Always." It was the barest hint of a whisper, and then she was gone.

He sank down onto the bed, burying his face in the pillow where she'd
slept, playing the scene over and over again, only each time, he managed
to tell her he loved her, and she reciprocated, and they went back to
bed.

Somehow, he doubted that would ever really happen now.

He finally got up and packed his bag.

He would be back, he knew that even as he left. He couldn't stay away
from her for long, even if she didn't want him. But he could lose
himself in the quest for vengeance for a while. And when he returned,
this would be past, one of those things that they'd laugh nervously
about and drop quickly if the subject ever came up, much like his
infatuation with Jean.

He wondered how he could be so stupid twice, and vowed that the third
time he fell in love, it'd be with someone who loved him back.

***

Rogue made it back to her room without anyone seeing her. She watched
from the window as Logan tore down the driveway on his bike; she'd known
he would only turn to her for comfort, that it hadn't mean anything to
him beyond the sheer physical need to prove he was still alive. In her
head, she knew that. Her heart and stomach, however, didn't seem to
understand.

She'd thought nothing could be worse than never having what you wanted.

She'd been wrong.

She wondered if he'd been able to pick up on her feelings, if she'd
somehow given herself away. She resolved to ask Jubilee if she talked in
her sleep.

Stripping, she slumped on the bed, clutching the stained dress and
ruined pantyhose to her chest, the scent of Logan and sex both
comforting and heartbreaking. She cried, then, for what she'd had, and
what she would never have.

The sobs had stopped by the time Storm found her, still in that same
position.

"Rogue, child, I know you're upset, but you're going to make yourself
sick if you keep crying," the weather goddess said gently.

Rogue stared at her, too grateful for her presence -- and her lack of
fear at being confronted with so much deadly skin -- to tell her to
leave, and yet too embarrassed to explain the real reason for her tears.

Storm chivied her into a bath, running the water and practically pushing
her into the tub, lethal skin notwithstanding.

When she was done, Storm put her to bed and promised to bring her some
food later. Rogue nodded and fell asleep, happy that someone else was
making decisions for her at the moment.

Her discarded clothes were gone when she woke, and she cried again for
the loss of even her mementoes of the brief encounter.

Then she resolved to be done with crying and to get on with her life.
She didn't want to be pale and sickly when Logan came home. She didn't
want him to feel bad for not loving her, or guilty for leaving her. And
she certainly didn't want him -- or anyone else -- to think she was
pining away for him. That would ruin their friendship, and that was as
important to him as it was to her.

***

victoria

--

"I go online sometimes, but everyone's spelling is really bad. It's
depressing." Tara, _Buffy the Vampire Slayer_

--

The Muse's Fool - http://www.unfitforsociety.net/musesfool
Unfit for Society - http://www.unfitforsociety.net

Disclaimers in Part 1

Comfort Me With Apples
Part 2

***

Over the next two weeks, Rogue put on a brave face and found herself
managing pretty well. Everyone was subdued in the wake of Silver Fox's
death, so her quiet demeanor was not at all out of place, and actually
fairly in character. She taught her classes (English for the youngest
students; piano to those who were interested) and went about her life as
usual.

Her solitary behavior had long since become unremarkable, and so her
withdrawal into a gray shadow in the sun-dappled halls of the mansion
went mostly unnoticed.

The third week, she woke up dizzy each morning  -- dizzy and hungry and
queasy all at the same time. She found she couldn't keep any food down,
but she couldn't stop eating, either.

It seemed to pass after a couple of days, and she wrote it off as a
stomach virus that had been going around.

Then it started up again, and she began to worry, but she put off going
to see Jean or Hank about it. She lived and worked in a school;
something was always being passed around.

When the nausea hit in the middle of a fight with the Friends of
Humanity, and resulted in her being knocked out cold before the rest of
the team managed to get things under control, she had no choice -- she
woke up in the lab, with Jean sitting next to her, reading a report.

"Rogue. How do you feel?"

She thought about it as she tried to sit up. "Whoa." <Sitting up is
bad,> she thought woozily, lying back down and closing her eyes. She
slipped a foot down to the floor to stop the room from spinning, and
felt a draft.

Her eyes shot open, but Jean was fully covered and nowhere near her bare
leg. She'd risen from her chair and was leaning against the counter.

"A little dizzy?" Jean asked, smiling.

"Yeah. Also, hungry."

"There's some meatloaf and mashed potatoes left in the kitchen."

Rogue wrinkled her nose, her gorge rising. "Uh, maybe not."

"Still a little queasy?"

Rogue nodded, then regretted it as the room started moving again. "I
suppose I have a concussion, huh?"

Again, Jean smiled. Rogue was starting to find that irritating. "No,
actually. You were lucky." She pursed her lips, then, "I don't know how
to break this to you." Rogue bit her lip, heart racing. "No, no. It's
nothing bad. At least, I don't think it is." She sat down again, and
took Rogue's hand between both of her gloved ones.

"Just spit it out," Rogue said, her voice hoarse with fear.

"You're going to have a baby."

Rogue stared at her in shock. She said nothing for a few seconds, then,
"Jean, I think I'm hallucinating. Do hallucinations have sound? I just
heard you say I'm going to have a baby."

"No hallucination, Rogue," the doctor replied, laughing, squeezing the
hand Rogue had forgotten she still held. "I ran a blood test to be sure,
since there were some anomalies... Anyhow, I know you've been feeling
sick and --"

"Yeah. I had what Ginger and Donna had. You and Bobby and Jubes had it
last week and--" Rogue ran out of breath.

"Well, yes, half the county has been down with the Norfolk virus, but
not you, Rogue." Jean's smile widened. "You're pregnant." And she
carefully hugged her.

"I-- I--" Rogue couldn't quite get her mouth to work, and her brain
wasn't in much better shape. "But, but *how*?" she finally blurted,
perplexed.

Jean nodded sagely. "In the normal way, I expect. Condoms aren't one
hundred percent effective, and you're not on the Pill, so--"

"But, but -- It was only the one time."

"Rogue, this isn't an after-school special. You and I both know that it
could happen the first time or the fifty-first time. With the severity
of your mutation, I'm honestly surprised it happened at all."

Rogue nodded, still dazed.

"Do you think it'll be okay? I mean--"

"You're healthy, and the embryo has implanted in the uterus, so
gestation should not be a problem. I'd imagine the amniotic sac will
protect the baby during pregnancy, and we can plan a C-section when
you're ready to deliver. Though -- well, we'll run some tests, and see
what Hank thinks, but it's possible -- it's very possible -- that the
baby could be unaffected by your skin. I know Scott and his brother --
their mutations have no harmful effect on each other. As I said, Hank
and I will be monitoring things closely." She smiled again. "I'm sure
Hank will be thrilled. Do you want me to get him? He's been beside
himself with worry since you got knocked out. You know how he worries
about you, especially with Logan gone." Rogue let Jean's chatter wash
over her, still too dazed to take it all in.

She was having a baby.

Logan's baby.

However, when Jean said, "Logan will make a wonderful father. I think
you two make a lovely couple," Rogue pushed herself up into a sitting
position again.

"Logan?" she croaked, closing her eyes and slamming down her mental
shields. She must be projecting. "Logan and I aren't a couple. Jesus.
Silver Fox --" She pushed her hair off her forehead, suddenly worrying
about what Logan would think of this whole thing.

"Oh. Was it -- do you want to talk about it? I know we've never been
close, but--"

Rogue laughed, joy overwhelming fear for the moment. Time enough later
to be afraid. "There's nothing to talk about. Logan and I -- we're
friends, but we're not-- Let's just say that it was a one-time thing,
Jean, and leave it at that."

"Oh. Well." Jean squeezed her hand again, and then stood, brushing a
tendril of hair behind her ear. "We'll all be happy to help you. Scott
and I are trying to conceive, you know."

It was Rogue's turn to say, "Oh." She smiled again. "Good luck. Have
fun."

"Believe me, we are."

And they both started giggling uncontrollably.

When they finally stopped, Rogue's sides hurt and tears were streaming
down her face. Jean was dabbing at her eyes, as well.

"I'm pregnant," Rogue whispered, awed.

"Yes."

"Can we not tell anyone just yet? I think, I think I want to get used to
the idea first."

Jean's expression was knowing. "You want to tell Logan first."

Rogue looked at her, startled. "Uh. Well, he is my best friend." She
didn't say, 'He's the father.' She wasn't sure she could say it out loud
yet, though Jean seemed to have no problem.

"Of course. I understand. He'll be so excited. I think it's wonderful,
you know. Give him something to focus on other than the past and
vengeance. Vengeance is an ugly thing, Rogue, and I don't want it to
consume him."

Rogue nodded, her joy only slightly damped by the idea that the father
of her child might not want a child, and certainly not with her.

"But I also think we have to tell Scott why you're going to be removed
from active duty. And Hank, of course, so we can do some more tests."
Jean continued to talk, but once again, Rogue found her mind wandering,
and her hand curled over the flat of her belly, simply amazed that life
had taken hold there.

Jean stopped talking, finally, and Rogue said, "It's going to be okay,
right?"

"Yes, Rogue. Everything is going to be all right."

And Rogue believed her.

***

There were some days Rogue thought she'd never be well again, that she'd
spend her life puking into garbage pails and toilets.

Every time she got in the car to go somewhere, she had to stop and throw
up. If she wasn't throwing up, she was peeing. If she didn't have to
pee, she was hungry. But eating just led to vomiting.

It was a vicious circle.

She lost weight, and worried about it, though both Hank and Jean told
her it was all right.

She finally discovered that eating saltines and drinking seltzer about
half an hour before eating any actual food, and then chewing minty gum
afterward, calmed the nausea somewhat, and by week ten she was able to
keep food down for a good part of the day.

By that point, the news had spread through the school, though she'd
tried to keep it quiet, and she had a steady stream of well-wishers
offering to baby-sit and do other things for her once the baby came. It
made her feel loved and wanted in a way she'd never quite experienced
before, and she blossomed under the attention. It made the constant
nauseous yet hungry state she was in more bearable. The only thing
missing was Logan. Although the other adults had all pleaded with her in
turn about calling him, she wasn't ready to face him yet.

She'd sat in Xavier's office as they others discussed the situation as
if she weren't even there. They'd had this conversation daily since the
day they'd discovered Rogue's pregnancy.

"I still think he's got a right to know," Scott said.

"And it is Rogue's right to tell him," Ororo answered.

Jean sighed.

"If it were my child, I'd want to know," Hank chimed in, as he always
did.

"You're not Logan," Jean said.

"That is patently obvious, Jean, but the fact remains, I would want to
know if my lover became pregnant, and I am sure that Logan would, also,"
Hank said.

"Exactly. You know he's got that sense of obligation. He might be
irresponsible with himself, but he's always been there when Rogue needs
him."

And that was as far as she let it go. She didn't want to tie him to her.
She didn't want to be that woman on "Jerry Springer" who made her
boyfriend marry her for the baby, and they ended up hating each other.

She stood, clutching her chair tightly as she rode the wave of dizziness
that accompanied standing these days. "And I will tell him when he comes
back," she announced. "He'll come back and when the time is right, I'll
tell him. Me. Not you. In person. Not on the phone. Not to make him feel
guilty or pressure him into something he doesn't want to do. But because
it's his baby, too."

It was the first time she'd admitted it out loud, and even Scott backed
down at the determination in her voice.

The subject was dropped.

She was convinced this was her chance -- she was going to have something
of Logan's, something no one else would ever have, and she wanted to do
it right, to make sure nothing happened to the baby. She figured Logan
might never love her unconditionally, but his child surely would. She
didn't want to screw that up by making Logan hate her, by forcing him
into something he wasn't ready for. She would, as he always told her,
follow her instincts. They'd yet to steer her wrong where he was
concerned, and she was sure they wouldn't now.

***

Logan, meanwhile, wandered his old haunts, unable to get the image of
Marie out of his mind. He told himself he didn't -- couldn't -- care.
They were friends. Nothing more.

He'd never had a problem separating sex from emotional attachment. Not
until *her*.

He just had to find his way back to that place, the one where he could
walk away without looking back, without wondering how she was or what
she was doing, and if she was thinking about him while she was doing it.

He fought at the bars that would still have him, tales of his claws
still circling in some of the more remote regions of Alberta, even after
six years. He did some work for a pair of Russian mobsters in Vancouver.
Two squat, dark-haired men who drank vodka all day and laughed coarsely
at their own jokes.

He worked as a debt collector, cracking skulls and breaking legs. He
detached from people, and after a few months, he thought he was ready to
go back. He'd just beaten a man unconscious without a qualm; the man's
pleas for mercy had fallen on deaf ears. Logan made three thousand
dollars doing it. His utter lack of caring seemed to be a signal that
he'd moved on, and he decided to go home.

He called the mansion, and growled when Scott answered the phone.
<Fucking great,> he thought. "I'm coming back," he growled into the
receiver.

"It's about time," Scott answered. "Rogue needs you here."

"Whatever." It came out casual, distant. He told himself he didn't care.
He hung up as Scott started blathering on about responsibilities.

He didn't care.

And maybe if he kept telling himself that, he'd finally start to believe
it.

***

Marie didn't rush down the stairs and fling herself into his arms when
he arrived back at the mansion.

He didn't know why he was expecting her to, and he tried to pretend he
wasn't disappointed when it didn't happen.

He didn't catch sight of her until dinnertime, and even then she didn't
speak to him, though he knew she knew he was there. If that was how she
wanted to play it, that was fine with him. Made his plans easier to
carry out, since he didn't think he could manage to be indifferent to
her if he was actually faced with her big eyes and full lips, and the
way she smiled and her nose wrinkled when she laughed.

He rose and left the dining room, disgusted with the maudlin turn of his
thoughts.

Scott followed him out into the foyer, but he wasn't interested in
hearing One-Eye's spiel about responsibility.

"Save it," he said tersely.

Scott nodded. "She needs you, even if she doesn't show it."

There was nothing to say to that. "I'm going to town."

"You'll be back, though?"

"Yeah." He was at the door when he said, "If she needs me, I'll be
here."

That seemed to satisfy Scott, though it didn't come close to explaining
his feelings for Marie. But he wasn't thinking about that, because if he
didn't think about it, he could pretend he wasn't feeling it. And God
knows, he didn't want to *talk* about it, and he was afraid that's what
One-Eye was going to suggest, so he left hurriedly.

He spent almost a week avoiding her. Six days of listening to her pass
his room, going out early and coming home late so he didn't have to face
her, face the fact that things were different between them, and he
didn't know how to fix that.

He brooded a lot, and refused to talk to anyone about it, though Jean,
Ororo and Hank all tried to corner him. He sensed that something else
was going on, that perhaps they knew how he'd screwed up, how he'd taken
advantage of Marie, but none of them seemed angry. They were all concern
and friendship.

It was definitely odd, but he chose not to dwell on it. Nothing good
ever came from dwelling on his feelings, and he was sure this would be
no exception.

***

Rogue had successfully avoided being in the same room with Logan since
his return. She was sure it was hurting him; it was killing her.

But she wasn't ready to face him yet, to tell him the truth. She knew
he'd be able to sense it, smell it on her before she even got the words
out, and she wasn't sure what his reaction would be.

She had discussed it ad nauseum with Jean and Storm and even Scott and
Hank, trying to get the male perspective. She had planned what she was
going to say, even tried to write a speech at one point, but she knew
that wouldn't work with him, that whatever she said had to be true and
heartfelt or he'd know she didn't mean it.

She practiced evasion, and she noticed that he didn't try all that hard
to track her down. She knew that if he'd wanted to see her, nowhere on
earth would have been safe from him.

So, she played the game, knowing that sooner or later she'd have to face
him. And really, she thought, trying to find something to wear that
wasn't too snug, sooner rather than later. She was sort of grateful that
he wasn't pushing for a confrontation, even as she was hurt.

She discarded the black jeans as too tight and tried on the blue ones.

They didn't fit either, and she settled on a stretchy black skirt that
didn't need to be zipped over her newly-rounded abdomen. Now she had to
find a shirt that would fit.

Her breasts, which had always been perky and small enough for her to go
braless comfortably, were now swollen and tender. She liked the fuller
look, even if it meant she had to strap on a bra every single day, but
it made her t-shirts and turtlenecks pull tight and her button-down
shirts gape.

She found herself crying in frustration after trying on and discarding
almost every shirt she owned. She couldn't take it; she refused to buy
maternity clothes and she was horrified at the idea of becoming huge and
bloated, like a beached whale.

She could handle the nausea and the vomiting. She could deal with the
constant hunger and the mood swings. But the fact that her clothes were
too small pushed her right over the edge.

She sank down onto the floor at the foot of her bed, and wept.

***

Logan waited, tense and wary, seated on the edge of the bed.

He did this every morning, waited for Marie to walk by so he didn't have
to see her.

He looked at the clock and noticed she was late. She was always
downstairs by seven-thirty; classes started promptly at eight, and she'd
been at the school long enough for Scott's lessons on punctuality and
appropriate behavior to have sunk in. She was never late. It set a bad
example for the students.

Something was wrong.

He heard her as soon as he opened the door. She was only three rooms
away, and she was crying.

That was bad.

He'd never liked being around crying women. It made him nervous in the
way few things could. But a crying Marie was doubly bad, because he had
no doubt that somehow, some way, he was the cause of those tears. He
grabbed his gloves, pulled a flannel shirt on over his t-shirt, and
walked down the hall.

He knocked and tried the door. It was open, so he pushed his way in.

"Marie?"

She was curled up on the floor at the foot of the bed. Clothes were
strewn about the room and she was only half-dressed. Which was all kinds
of interesting, at least to his body.

He was overwhelmed by the scent of her, warm, spicy, still somewhat
innocent. There was something different in it, though. He couldn't put
his finger on it, but it was richer, softer. It nagged at the back of
his mind.

"Go away," she sobbed, keeping her face buried in what looked like a
shirt. "I'm not ready to talk to you."

So she did resent him, was avoiding him for a reason and not just
because he was avoiding her.

"Okay," he said, "but stop crying."

She finally looked up at him, her face a mess. She was a pretty crier,
he recalled, the tears seeming to slip down her cheeks like drops of
crystal, but now she was red-eyed and red-nosed, her hair a tangle and
her skin blotchy.

"I can't," she moaned.

He slipped down to the floor next to her, exasperated. "Well, I can't
leave until you stop crying."

She hiccupped. "Then you're going to be here a while."

He sighed and gently pulled her into his lap, cradling her against his
chest, his chin resting on her hair. He rocked her as she cried, and his
hands stroking her back in what he hoped was a soothing motion. It
certainly wasn't soothing him and he shifted so she wouldn't be able to
feel his response to holding her so closely, even if she was a sobbing
mess.

He closed his eyes and just inhaled her scent, glad that she was letting
him do this for her, and worried that the crying was going on far too
long. "You're going to make yourself sick," he murmured.

She hiccupped again, and laughed, which was a start, though tears still
streamed down her face. "If it's not one thing, it's another," she said,
but she quieted down.

He turned that cryptic remark over in his mind and continued to run his
hands along her back, and, when he could get away with it, up her sides
and around her belly --

It took his mind a moment to process what he was feeling and hearing.
Since she'd gone quiet, he could hear her heartbeat in tune with his,
and also --

"Marie," he said slowly, afraid of insulting her if he was wrong. But he
knew he wasn't wrong. And it would explain a lot of things. "Are you
pregnant?"

She looked up at him, then, and he felt his heart stop for a moment.
There was something in her eyes that just brought all his feelings --
everything he'd tried to deny or forget -- rushing back to the surface.

"Yes."

His grip on her tightened, and he kissed the top of her head.

"I'm so sorry," he whispered, feeling the tears sting the back of his
eyes.

"What?"

He realized that maybe that wasn't the best thing he could have said. He
hurried to clarify. "I'm sorry I left. I ran. I should have been here.
Oh God, we're gonna have a baby."

"Yeah."

"So why are you crying?"

She sniffled. "None of my clothes fit anymore."

He blinked. "Well, we can't have that. I mean, my girl and my other
girl," his hand cupped her abdomen gently, "can't be walking around
half-dressed." She giggled and he felt like laughing himself.

"Am I your girl?"

"Always," he said. "Sit up for a second." She did and he slipped off his
flannel -- a nice one, all dark blues and greens that would look good on
her -- and wrapped it around her shoulders. She slipped her arms into
the sleeves and buttoned it up, before turning and throwing her arms
around his neck.

"I love you, Logan," she said, and he could smell her fear. "I don't
want to have this baby without you, but I don't want you to feel
obligated. I know how you felt about Silver Fox, and I know that I'm
just your friend or whatever, but--"

"Shh." He placed a gloved finger over her lips. "I've loved you since I
saw you," he whispered. "I didn't know what it was, but I knew, I knew
you were the future. Silver Fox -- I loved her, too. But she was the
past. I just, I didn't think you wanted me. You never responded when I
flirted with you--"

"You flirted with me?" she squeaked. "When?" He opened and closed his
mouth. Apparently, his skills at charming the opposite sex weren't as
good as he'd thought they were. "It was only ever you for me, Logan. But
I thought -- we couldn't touch, and you thought I was too young and then
you and Silver Fox--"

He silenced her with his lips this time, a butterfly kiss brushing over
her mouth so quickly her skin couldn't react. He didn't know how an
absorption would affect the baby, and he didn't want to take a chance,
so he hoped this would be enough.

And it was.

***

On January twenty-fourth, Rose Marie Logan was born. She was eight
pounds, four ounces and as she grew, she showed no adverse reaction to
her mother's skin.

Her mother glowed with love and her father couldn't stop bragging about
her. It was the start of a beautiful life.

~end

~*~

victoria

--

"I go online sometimes, but everyone's spelling is really bad. It's
depressing." Tara, _Buffy the Vampire Slayer_

--

The Muse's Fool - http://www.unfitforsociety.net/musesfool
Unfit for Society - http://www.unfitforsociety.net

Title: Sick of it All

Author: Autumn

E-mail: dyslexic_crisco_penguin_fiend@...

Rating: PG-13

Notes: R/L Implied.

Disclaimer: I own nadda, how sad
________________________________


The lies

the games we play

the heartbreak

and loss

Sick of it all


Fighting for hours

With a memory

of who I was, and what

she is

Sick of it all


The struggle,

morality vs the heart

the outcome obvious

the charade continues

Sick of it all


Empty spaces

fragments in time

isolated

bitersweet and provoking

Embracing it all


I leave this place

haunts and shaddows

never

to return

Sick of it all


To there

miles away

home is where

she is



I am weary

I am tired

I don't want

to be

Sick of it all

Darker Destiny: When Life Is Hell
By Nadja Lee                                     14/05/02
English is not my native language. Please forgive me my mistakes.
Disclaimer: “X-men” and all the characters here belong to Marvel, 20 Century Fox
and I intend no infringement, this is a piece of amateur fan fiction, and I make
no money of it.
Only the original idea contained within this work is the property of the author.
Please do not copy this story to any website or archive without permission of
the author.
Timeline: Set in the movie universe/an AU. Before the movie
Universe: Set in the movie universe; NOT the book which goes with it.
Romance: None
Summary: A young man tells of his life and it has been anything but a dance on
roses…….
Archiving: Want, ASK, take,  have.
Feedback: Yes, please. My e-mail address is nadjalee2000@...
Rating: R
Story premise for this series: A what if story. What if there had never been any
X-men? What if Xavier had never founded the group or the school? What would have
happened to our heroes and villains then?
Warning: May contain disturbing elements. This is a VERY dark tale! You have
been warned.
Sequel/series: Part of the “Darker Destiny” series.

Have you ever wondered what it is like on the dark side of life……..

I don’t know why I keep writing stuff down. Maybe I need to share what I feel
with someone and no one cares nor listens……no one but you, an unnamed reader.
Once I thought I could write what has happened to me down and tell the truth;
speak up. I quickly found out the world doesn’t work like that. Now I write
because I have to, because without it I’ll go insane. And when there is no more
light, no more paper……I let my thoughts ride on the wind, knowing everyone will
think nothing of it, another piece of trash flying in the wind, to be stepped on
and thrown away. Kinda fitting.
What to say about me? Nothing. I’m no one, never have been and never will be.
That’s just how it is. My folks were killed when I was five and I was placed in
an orphanage. Beatings and rape was common there. Unlike many of the other boys
at the home I had never been beaten before, I had never been held against my
will, never felt that fear, that pure terror. I broke a rule I didn’t knew
existed; the rule of silence. I reported it. I was sent to a doctor who checked
me out and a female social worked talked with me. She thought I was notoriously
lying and didn’t believe me. The charges were dropped as the doctor said he
found no proof of abuse. Yeah right. I had been whipped the night before and he
didn’t see that?! Justice is for the rich only, I guess. After that I learned
well the rule of caution and silence.
I ran away from the home when I was eleven, thinking I would find freedom on the
streets but found only darkness. The only thing that changed was who was abusing
me; using me. I was still a pawn in someone’s sick and twisted game that I still
don’t know the name of.
It’s a whole world, a hidden and dark world. Everything’s for sale here; sex,
youth, drugs, life and death. You can buy it all. From time to time the police
will, more for the sake of appearance, arrest someone but it’s always the small
fish; unimportant and replaceable. Arresting the small drug dealers are a
regular process while arrests in sex crimes on minors, boys or gays are few and
far in between. Girls and women are a little better off there. Don’t really know
why. Maybe it’s just more known, more seen and more accepted?
At first death seemed to be better than this to me. I tried suicide a few times
but never went through with it. I came to realise that no matter happened; I did
want to live. It’s strange how much you can adapt and change to fit in, to
survive. Pride is a very small meal for a kid and you quickly learn to lose it.
Dignity is unheard of if you want to live and courage is for those who want to
die. Life becomes a painful process where you seek forgetfulness in whatever you
can find. Once I took everything I could; booze or drugs of the cheap kind, made
little difference to me. I only needed to escape a life that would kill me if I
thought about what I was doing. But that’s the whole point; just do and don’t
think. You can’t afford to think. You can’t afford to play ‘what if’ or dream
away. Life is here and now and nothing can change it. No one cares anyway.
I can never forget the past but by day I can pretend I don’t care. In the dark
of the night I become a boy again, scared and frightened. I crawl up in a ball
and fight to stay awake because as soon as I close by eyes I feel eager and
cruel hands reaching for me, touching me in places I don’t what to and forcing
me to do and say things I can’t live with if I force myself to remember.
I’m not that stupid; I know this is wrong. But the law is one thing, reality
something else. The circle goes far and reaches many important and up-held
citizens. I’ve even heard of a Senator member and several policemen who often
walk these streets eager to buy young flesh; male or female. The rich and
powerful can do whatever they wish; what can we down here at the bottom do about
that when the middle classes won’t even see us? When did you, dear reader, last
give money to a homeless? Last think of all the children living on the streets?
Last wonder what they are forced to do to survive? If ever those thoughts have
been yours they have come and gone as quickly as an unpleasant nightmare. You
can’t solve a problem people won’t even admit is there. The perfect cover
indeed.
Today something happened. Something terrible. Well, more so than usual anyway.
John died. He killed himself. Drug overdose. I can’t be sorry for that. He was
16 going on 100 and had full blown AIDS. This job will do that to you. You can’t
afford to demand protection so…. It probably doesn’t work anyway.
I saw him; John. He looked happy in death; a smile curving his lips that seemed
to light up his starved and thin body. I was never very close to John but we had
met at the Centre downtown. He was an alright guy just……tired. Generally tired
of everything. Like most of us I guess.
I wonder who’ll take over his clients. Not that he had many regulars. He was
getting too old though he tried to lie himself younger. I works on 7th Street so
I think Connie will take over from him. Connie, or Connor as his real name is,
is alright but way too valuable and weak to do this. I know that in less than a
year it’ll be him lying somewhere. I just hope that when that time comes it’ll
be by his own hands and not some crazy customer or killer. We had a serial
killer in this area some years back. He killed boys, about 12, and washed them,
dressed them in white and put their bodies near a statue of an angel, their
hands folded over their chest as in prayer. Sick as it may sound they all looked
more at peace in death than they ever had in life. I think the killer actually
believed he was helping but failed to realise that even when life is Hell humans
fight to survive. That is the nature of things.
The highlight of my day was a five-dollar bill an old lady gave me when she saw
me standing on a corner. In her eyes I read she knew more than she let on; maybe
she had even been where I am now. As I write this it’s for the first time in
days on a full stomach. Bless fast food stores for low prices.
I’m running out of paper and the sun is almost down. I have to end this now. I
think I’ll go to the Centre first and see what’s happening. Later I’ll see if I
can’t make some money. Like John I’m getting too old for anyone to want me but
maybe I can find something else. There’s always a job for someone willing to do
next to anything for it.
But one of these days………..one day I will be free. One day, somehow, I’ll break
free. I will. I’ll have what I always wanted; peace.

~Scott

The End

Two complaints that I've heard recently included 1) there aren't enough
friendship stories out there, and 2) there aren't enough stories about the
junior X-Men. If you agree, then this is really up your alley! Also, heavy
Scott/Jean angst from the kids POV. This first part is a bit heavy on the
exposition, but I had a lot of ground to cover, and the piece is already fairly
long. Though this has been betaed once, I am still tweaking, so please, please,
please let me know if you have comments or suggestions. I'm a new writer and I'm
trying some new things here.


X-Men AU – 2020 Universe

Bobby’s Monster (October 2020)

RATING: PG (mild swearing)
PAIRING: Bobby/Rogue (implied), Scott/Jean (implied)
ARCHIVING: Lists yes, others let me know where it’s going.
FEEDBACK: Yes, yes, yes, yes! Please, please! Tarchannon@...
DISCLAIMER: All recognizable X-Men belong to the people at Marvel and 20th
Century Fox. The other supplementary characters that you don’t recognize are my
original characters. This is just for fun and academic exercise, absolutely no
money will be generated. I’ll only use and abuse them a bit – probably less than
my muses did!
SERIES/SEQUEL: Yes, the 2020 Universe. It occurs between Alterations and
Homecoming. This story takes place just before  Halloween.
SUMMARY: Emotions are running high as Jean and Scott approach the end of their
relationship, and a stranger arrives just in time for Halloween. Mostly Bobby
POV.
NOTES:
      1) This is an AU – the movieverse with a twist. Expect a few changes.
      2) They made me mad by not having Hank in the first movie. Gotta have Hank!
Plus, the movie folks seem think you can cure the mutant plague without a
virologist! Hank’s back in, period. <g>
      3) Logan’s arrival and subsequent departure has significant repercussions
for Scott and Jean that are playing themselves out here.
      4) “_” contains spoken dialog, /_/ contains thoughts, *_* contains mental
communication
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS:     Thanks to You-Shan Feng for the beta and great
suggestions! You are
fabulous!!
ORIGINAL POSTING: 5/28/02

                                                 *
*                                              *
***Bobby***
Things had taken a serious turn for the worse.

That was saying something considering I had a girlfriend for the first time,
Kind of.

Ever since the Wolverine from the Great White North had taken off, things had
slowly fallen apart. The atmosphere at the Academy was tense at best and I knew
it had to have something to do with Mr. Summers and Dr. Gray. The teachers
weren’t talking, but it was clear that they were keeping a lot from us and it
was making the students jumpy. It really bothered me a lot, but I tried not to
show it.

The trouble started when Wolverine and Rogue arrived. Everything was just fine –
well as fine as controlled chaos could be considered fine - until the furball
showed up. Then suddenly Mr. Summers looked unhappy all the time and Dr. Gray
looked upset. The Professor got sick after Mystique stole my face, broke
Cerebro, and scared Rogue away. The team had to go and rescue her, and when she
came back, she wasn’t the same for a while.

We all tried to help as much as we could. Having been around the longest and
being one of the oldest students, I helped out more than most. The professor
woke up a little while after the team got back, and ran some errands for him
until he was back to normal. I also visited Rogue, when she would let me. I
guess the remnant of Logan’s personality doesn’t like jokes.

Things seemed to get better at the end of the summer. Mr. Summers was quiet,
almost thoughtful, but not grim. Logan had recovered and seemed to be getting
used to having kids around. He always looked at me as if I could be a
between-meal-snack. That was probably because I was kind of hanging around Rogue
a lot and he was acting all Big Brother-like. Or Big Uncle. Hell, Big
Grandfather for all I know. He couldn’t be completely bad though – he liked
Pinky and the Brain.

Then Logan left and things started to go downhill again. Classes started and a
lot of the new students were having some trouble adjusting. Ellen Rosenberg was
really smart, but she was a know-it-all and a control freak.  She just couldn’t
get used to the college-style classes at the Academy. We had to do it that way
in order to fit things around the fact that half the faculty got called away
periodically to save the day. Her younger brother, Tommy, was doing OK, but he
was just so young compared to the other kids. Martin Runningbear was also a new
student, and his previous education wasn’t up to where it should have been.
Fortunately, he was really calm about it, which I liked. Allison, the quiet
girl, was just so… quiet. She’d been around nine months and she’s barely spoken
to anyone. I’ve only been able to get her to laugh twice. Twice! Then there was
Nicholas, the youngest, who was going through another cycle of nightmares. This
time around, after he woke up from his bad dreams, all he wanted was for me to
hold him. I wasn’t getting much sleep between a clingy eight year old and a
kind-of-girlfriend that had two other people running around in her head.

Beyond that, Ms. Munroe had been going out quite a bit at night, so she missed a
lot of the stuff going on between Mr. Summers and Dr. Gray. Kitty and Jubilee
seemed to be in the right places at the right times and caught a lot of it, but
I saw it too. I could tell anyway, because I’ve known them for almost four years
now. They are kind of like my brother and sister in a way. I was a little closer
to Warren than Scott, but he was away often on business these days. Scott and
Jean had always been this feature of my life since I arrived here, and their
relationship was a rock that I could depend on, kind of like the sun coming up.
The fact that they could hardly look at one another was just… disturbing and
freaky, in a really bad way.

The whole situation was really starting to get to me. Beyond the fact that I was
screwing up because I could barely keep my eyes open in class, I was also
failing the one thing that I could usually do right – make people feel better
when they were down. I’m not sure what was worse, Scott and Jean
self-destructing or my inability to face it, let alone do anything.

                                                 *
*                                              *
***Bobby***
It was the looks that told the story, really. Scott didn’t look at her like he
used to. The lines on his face have gone horizontal above and below the visor,
rather than radiating outward from the corners of his red goggled eyes. He
looked at her only for a few seconds at a time, then looked away, usually
downward like he was embarrassed. She just appeared tired and a little sad when
she thought no one was looking. The dark circles had started to betray her after
a while.

It didn’t surprise me when I found Scott in the kitchen alone late one Thursday
night.

It was very late, maybe 03:00, and I had just gotten Nicholas back to bed after
one of his nightmares. Flora, the lady that they had hired a couple of weeks
ago, had tried to get Nicholas to come to her so I could sleep. But she was new
and he would have none of it. Though I liked the little fellow, I hoped that
Nightwalker could take over soon so I could at least attempt to pass my classes.

I had been up long enough that I was hungry again – no big surprise there. I
remembered the chocolate cake that was left over from dinner, so I headed down
to the kitchen. Barefoot and clad only in a pair of blue and green flannel
pajama bottoms and an old Marvin the Martian T-shirt, I quietly trudged down the
hall, down the stairs, crossed the study hall, and ducked across one of the main
hallways to the backdoor of the kitchen.

The fact that the light was ‘on’ broke me out of my hazy stupor, the slight
potential for gathering blackmail material sharpened my brain just a bit. I
hesitated to listen before I touched the door, but I could only hear an
occasional soft sound. I quietly turned the knob and stepped into the dark,
short hallway that opened out into the kitchen. I stayed in the shadows,
thinking that I might be able to catch John sneaking a couple of beers or
something. I peered around the corner, and what I saw brought me up short.

Scott Summers was sitting alone on a stool at the far end of the stainless steel
counter near the refrigerator Anna’s mom kept it stocked with food for after
dinner meals. The man that I thought of as a big brother was hunched over the
end of the table, loafered feet caught up in the rungs of the stool, back arched
uncomfortably, elbows on the silvery gray tabletop and face cradled in his
hands. His clothes were rumpled – his khaki chinos were wrinkled and his pale
pink Oxford was partially untucked, sleeves haphazardly turned up – and his
normally perfect dark brown hair was disheveled. It was the same outfit that he
had had on at dinner, which had been in much better shape then. There was a full
glass of milk on the counter in front of him, but it looked like it hadn’t been
touched. I waited for a moment, knowing that Scott was thinking, and I’d just
wait until he didn’t look so… vulnerable before I went in.

The evening was silent outside, and the only real noise in the kitchen was the
whirring of the fans on the freezers. I heard the sounds then, short faint
gasps, and watched as our Fearless Leader’s frame quivered with nearly silent
sobs.

I froze, no pun intended. I didn’t know what to do. My heart was wrenching with
sympathy, and part of me wanted to go over and hug him. The other part simply
wanted to run and forget that I had ever seen him sitting there. I have never
been able to stand seeing anyone in pain, especially since mom died, and my
first reaction has always been to try and make everything better. The fact that
I knew it wouldn’t work this time held me back. It made me feel  small.

Maybe it was that I hadn’t ever seen him cry. Hell, it was a rare thing for him
to show anyone that he was upset - the recent cracks in his ‘Cyclops’ persona
were the rare exception. Maybe I hesitated because it was 03:00 and he had
obviously sought out some privacy far from the dormitory wing. He was private
like that, and I knew what it was like to try and hide a part of yourself.

The more I thought about it, the more I knew that I should just turn around and
sneak back out before he discovered that I was there. He was obviously upset,
but he didn’t seem to be in a dangerous state.

/It’s OK to be upset, and it’s OK to let it out./ I repeated it several times to
myself. Jean had taught me this the first week that I came here, the same Jean
I’d bet was upstairs tossing and turning, as wide awake as I am.

I really didn’t want to add to his problems by embarrassing him. After nearly
four years, I knew that he didn’t like to show his emotions very much - well not
his private ones anyway. I could respect that.

As I turned and snuck back out to the hallway, I decided that I would try and do
what I could to let him know that he had support, from me anyway. Just not now –
I’d find him in the morning and ask him to go do something. Maybe play
basketball. He liked to play basketball with us. We could joke around, and I
could get him to laugh. After all, that _was_ one of the few things I could do
right.

I trudged back up to bed, stomach rumbling, with not much hope for sleep.

*                                                *
*
***Bobby***
It was late, probably after 20:00, and it was fully dark outside except for the
pale sliver of the new moon. It was just under two weeks until Halloween. Rogue
had fallen asleep early, but had awakened screaming in terror about an hour ago.
I had heard the screams. Dr. Gray had gone to her almost immediately, but after
a few minutes, she had called out to my mind as asked me to come to Rogue’s
room. I sighed, doubting that I’d be able to stay awake long enough to finish my
physics homework. Thank god Professor Xavier had offered me a single room at the
end of last school year.

Normally Rogue roomed with Kitty and Jubes, but after absorbing both Magneto and
Wolverine’s memories so close together during the Liberty Incident, she had kind
of lost it – wigged out. She was bad for the first couple of days, and then they
gave her a room to herself  - the one just above mine. After Jean and Professor
Xavier had gotten her mentally clamed down, she immediately asked to see me. I
was happy and flattered, still am really, especially considering that she could
be really mad at me for convincing her to runaway, even if it was Mystique using
my face. We had walked in the garden and talked. She was very strange, sometimes
sounding like herself, but other times echoing Logan or a smooth, confident,
cultured man that I assumed was Magneto. She had needed some space, and she
really wanted to be sure that I knew she wasn’t mad at me. She held my hand in
her smaller gloved one, and for the most part we just talked quietly. She held
my hand fiercely, I remembered, and the fact that she needed me brought unshed
tears to my eyes.

I’ve been there for her ever since.

It had taken her several weeks before she stopped taking on the characteristics
of one or the other man, sometimes adopting a superior air and staring strangely
at the professor, and at other times growling and acting like the semi-savage
that was the fuzzball. The professor, with Dr. Gray helping, had worked with
her, doing something I didn’t understand.  Rogue called it mental balancing. The
memories faded over time, so now all she had left were the nightmares, bad ones,
but they were fading over time as well. The one tonight must have been a doozy.

So without reservation, I ran down the hall, up the stairs, and knocked before
entering the open doorway of her room. Rogue was flushed and wide eyed from the
nightmare. I recognized the look, though which man’s horror she had relived
wasn’t apparent. Probably Magneto’s since I didn’t heard any growling.

I took her hand, and asked her if she wanted to go for a walk. She nodded, still
wild-eyed, and took my hand. I loved that. This was something I could do right.

We walked for about an hour, until we were cold from the late fall air. I got
her to laugh, and she was back to normal when I dropped her off. She looked at
me gratefully, and I couldn’t help but grin at the way that made me feel. She
shyly closed the door, and I wandered back to the stairs.

I felt restless as I loped down the stairs, probably from being so overtired, so
I decided a little TV might help me unwind.

The TV room was empty, so I plopped down on the couch and flipped to the tail
end of the news, praying that someone interesting was going to be on the Tonight
Show. I dazed for a few minutes, TV turned low, when I heard sounds from out
front.

A vehicle pulled up in the portico of the Hall, and being, well, nosy, I snuck
over to the doorway, hoping to catch a tipsy staff member coming home, or a late
night rendezvous perhaps. You have to have source material to kid someone, after
all.

Quiet footsteps approached from down the hall, traveling quickly toward the
door. Jean. She looked expectantly at the door.

Dr. Jean Gray, also known as Redstar, Red, Jean, or Jeannie depending on who you
were, was like the resident house mom, er.. house big sister. I ducked the
expected telekinetic swat involuntarily, pulling back in the shadow of the
doorway, hoping she didn’t hear that. She was the one that most people,
including me, went to when we had problems. Scott did a lot of the guy stuff,
but Jean was a lot easier to talk to. In fact, sometimes you didn’t even have to
talk. She just looked at you with this knowing look. It was nice sometimes.

I wondered whom she went to with her problems, because I didn’t think it had
been Scott lately.

After a few seconds, she opened the door and stepped just outside into the
shadows where I couldn’t see. She didn’t turn on the porch lights. Strange.

I listened closely, but couldn’t hear much. Jean sounded happy, a deep voice
responding could be heard. I could just make out a very large shape beyond Jean,
and I watched as she threw her arms around the figure. They embraced for a few
moments, and then she stood close. After they talked in low voices for a minute
or two, she turned back to the door.

I had to pull back to avoid being seen. I didn’t want to get caught spying. 
Plus I really wasn’t supposed to be down in the TV room this late on a
weeknight.

My mind raced a bit as I listened to them come through the door.

“Well, I’m so glad you’re here. I missed you,” he heard Jean say excitedly. I
hadn’t heard her get excited in a good way since before Logan had left.

The footsteps continued, passing the door to the TV room and down the hall
toward the dormitory wing.

“I have missed you as well,” a very deep, resonant voice formally intoned,
affection evident.

My mouth dropped open, and I flushed. Late night male visitors being escorted
toward the bedrooms by a maybe single, probably attached woman, was scandalous.
Maybe this is why Scott was so upset.

I couldn’t resist looking, so I peeped around the corner.

Jean had her arm draped around the waist of a very big man. They were speaking
together in low voices as she guided him around the corner. I couldn’t make out
much of the man or his face, as he was wearing a tan trench coat and a wide
brimmed hat that was pulled down low like the secret agents in the movies. The
most significant thing was that the man was huge. He stood maybe 6’1”, with
simply immense shoulders, like a linebacker with pads on.

Then, just as they turned the corner, I noticed the man was carrying a briefcase
in his right hand. The briefcase wasn’t significant, but the hand was. Giant.
Furry.

Blue.

*********** end Part 1 - send feedback! Tarchannon@... *******


[Non-text portions of this message have been removed]

Headers and warnings on part 1.
Additional warning of potential romantic breakup.
Part 2 - Events from the junior X-men perspective, primarily Bobby.
Feedback is wanted, desired, lusted after. Well, OK, just let me know what you
think. <g> Tarchannon@...

*                                                *
*
***John***
John was in the library studying when he heard someone come in.

Having escaped to the little table in the back corner of the library for some
peace and quiet, he didn’t dare make a sound to let on that he was there. The
girls were driving him nuts about helping them with their history papers, and he
just needed some space to figure out his frigging physics homework He buried his
left hand in his shaggy orange-blond hair and started working on the next
problem.

He had heard the scrape of a chair on tile, then nothing. He quietly continued
his calculations, blocking out the fact that there was someone else on the other
side of the stacks.

After ten minutes so, John had forgotten about the other person and was
progressing through the chapter exercises nicely when the door opened again.

“Scott, we need to talk,” Dr. Gray said.

Silence.

“Seriously, you just can’t keep…” Her voice dropped off precipitously.

Silence.

“When you’re ready, come find me.”

Her final comment was very quiet, with a stillness that made his heart drop. The
door opened and shut, and the silence returned.

He didn’t dare make any noise.

*                                                *
*
***Bobby***
A few days later, John had called Bobby over to the window.

From their window in the biology room, they could see a big moving truck had
arrived and had pulled up to the breezeway door near the garage.

“I wonder whom that’s for,” John wondered aloud, absently tugging on his pooka
shell necklace and trying to lean out further to see who was unloading the
truck.

Bobby had his suspicions, but he didn’t make them known. He hadn’t told anyone
about the big blue man that had arrived two nights ago because he wasn’t sure if
it would make things more difficult for Scott.

But the truck wasn’t pulling up to the staff wing, it was pulling up to the end
of the building where the big laboratories were located, and that made him
wonder.

Was the big blue man a new teacher? Nobody had mentioned that they were getting
a new instructor.

Was he involved with Jean? Initially I thought yes, but maybe he was just a
friend. After all, I didn’t see them do anything but hug. That, and I didn’t
think Jean could be that cruel.

He watched as some men opened the back of the truck, revealing floor to ceiling
boxes inside.

/That’s a lot of boxes./

Nobody else had seen the big blue man since the night he had arrived. I wondered
what was going on. The more I thought about it, the more I knew the equipment
and the blue man had to be connected. There is a mystery here, and I think it
just might be the thing to take my mind off everything else that was going on.

/Well, if the boxes belong to the blue guy, he’ll have to come down and unpack
them. Perfect time to catch a better look./

*                                                *
*
***Bobby***
After class, I made up some lame excuse and ducked out of the usual hour of
cartoon time with the rest of the kids. Fortunately, John had an appointment
with Professor Xavier after class, so he wouldn’t be tagging along. Quickly, I
ran down toward the dining room so that I could see where the boxes were being
moved.

Some of the large white boxes were being stacked in the first room inside the
garage breezeway doors in a room generically marked as ‘Laboratory’. I hadn’t
been in there before, but the top of the door was glass, and it looked a lot
like the biology lab upstairs. The rest of the boxes were being loaded onto the
elevator and being taken down one floor to who knows where. There was no sign of
the blue guy and the movers pretty much ignored me, so I looked closer. All of
the boxes being left upstairs were coded yellow, the ones that went downstairs
were red, and all of them were neatly labeled. Between movers, I got close
enough to read a couple of labels - ‘electrophoresis unit’, ‘DNA sequencer’ ,
‘cryostat’. I recognized some of the terms from my Advanced Biology class. I
laughed at myself, because I figured this would be the only thing I had ever
used from the entire semester.

I had an hour until dinner, so I tucked myself away behind one of the bigger
plants that sat near the atrium window, across from the dining hall doors.  I
wanted to have an unobstructed view of the lab in case Dr. Blue came down. I sat
there reading about the history of the Ottoman Empire for Ms. Munroe until
dinner. He hadn’t showed.

He didn’t appear at dinner either. John looked at my frown quizzically and I
waved him off. I was usually up for co-conspirators, but for some reason, doing
it by myself just felt right. I decided to go downstairs and check out the place
after dinner.

It was well after dark when I managed to drag myself away from the others. I got
waylaid into going over the biology notes from earlier in the day with John, who
had been too freaked about having to meet with the Professor to pay attention.
It turned out he just needed to sign some paperwork, but I guessed that Xavier
had let him hang all afternoon on purpose. It seemed like the both of us were on
the wrong side of a reprimand a little too often. Have to keep life interesting
after all.

Eschewing the subtle approach, I went back down to the lab and peered in.
Nothing. Not a box had been moved.

  I sighed, went across the hall and hit the regular elevator button. Right next
to it was another elevator, designed to appear like a regular wall. The public
stairs and elevators would take me down to the basement level, but I suspected
that Blue was on one of the restricted levels – X-Men only - and I didn’t have
the passcode to get down there.

The elevator took me down and as the doors opened, all I saw under the dim,
after-hours lighting were boxes stacked up and down the halls next to the lab. I
looked around and spotted a few open boxes, tape hanging, and some of those neat
dissolvable packing peanuts that smelled like Corn Pops scattered on the floor.

  /Bingo!/ I grinned.

I snuck out of the elevator and, spying no one, I crept down the hall to get a
look in the lab. The lab on this floor was in the exact same place, so I knew
where to look. I felt an increasing flutter of excitement in my stomach. A big
blue guy had to be interesting, right?

The door to the lab was partially open and the lights were off, but I could see
from the glow of the monitors that a couple of computers had been set up and
were running. I looked carefully, and saw no one in the darkened lab, heard only
the faint whirr of the new refrigerators.

As happened all too often, my curiosity got the best of me. The door was open
and I had to have a look. On cat feet, I entered the lab, turning a bit so as
not to disturb the angle of the partially-opened door. I looked around a bit,
noting that not much had been unpacked yet out in the lab, but I could see more
open boxes back near the office door. I could make out a soft glow reflecting on
the partially open door.

I knew that I shouldn’t be doing this, but I couldn’t resist. I moved to the
office as quietly as I could. Stopping just outside the doorway, I leaned
through. I had to look around a filing cabinet to directly see the computer. The
room was quite dark, and no one was at the desk.

I snorted in disappointment and started to turn back when I saw giant fangs
appear out of the darkness just inches from my face. My brain stuttered as I
realized that whatever it was, it wasn’t standing - the giant mass was _hanging
from the ceiling_.

Teeth. Lots of big white, teeth. Bright blue and white eyes opened below. Long
whiskers.

“Snnakta…” the creature exhaled softly, blowing my hair back, as it came to
life.

I froze for a moment, just a moment, then did the only thing I could think to
do.

I screamed like a little girl.

“Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh…”

The creatures’ eyes widened in what I would later recall as shock, but all I saw
at the time was the great big mouth open with a loud, deep,
“Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh…,” that held a definite edge of surprise.

My air ran out and I drew another breath. Still couldn’t move, couldn’t take my
eyes from the big red tongue between the double row of big white teeth, so I did
what came naturally.

“Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh…”

The big dark thing stopped screaming before my second breath ran out, and I
watched with amazement as the big dark mass detached itself from the ceiling and
landed softly on the floor in from of me, turning upright as he came down. My
mouth and eyeballs were the only things that seemed to work until he
straightened up to full height. The shock of the sheer size of the dark figure
snapped me out of my paralysis, and as my second breath ran out, I turned and
fled from the lab as fast as I could move.

*                                                *
*
***Bobby***
I had almost made it back to my room, when Jean thoughts reached out to me,
apparently sensing my panic.

*Bobby, what’s wrong?*

Still not coherent, I mentally sputtered, *Lab… blue… teeth… monster…*

I noted with an odd detachment that my real tongue still wasn’t working.

Her mental laughter physically stopped me cold on the stairs.

/Oh, God…/

*Bobby did you run into Hank?* Amusement colored her thoughts.

/Oh, God…/

*Dr. Henry McCoy. Biochemist. Big, blue guy. Ring a bell?*

/Oh, God…/

*Henry is an old friend, one of the first X-Men. He left just before you arrived
to work for Charles at Xanthon Biomedical. He’s back to work here because it’s
becoming more dangerous for those of us that can’t hide our mutations. He one of
the nicest people I’ve ever met. And one of the smartest.*

/Oh, God…/

*You didn’t do anything to hurt his feelings, did you?* She knew. Now I know.

/Oh, God…/

*He likes sweets, Bobby. Snack foods are good.* She paused, hint of concern.
*Apologize soon.*

/Oh, my God…/

*                                                *
*
I knew that I had royally screwed up.

First I freaked out, then I got it together, then I freaked out again.

/I can’t believe I’m that stupid!/

From Jean’s tone, I could tell Dr. McCoy must be a little sensitive about his
appearance. I groaned as I thought about it. The trench coat. The hat. Not
coming to meals. Not being on the student floors during classes.

/Damn, damn, damn!/

Jean had said that he was smart and nice, so I figured the direct approach would
work – apologize and bribe. Hey, it works for me.

Forgetting my homework and just about everything else, I got cleaned up and
planned my coma-inducing sugar enriched mea culpa.


********************* End of Part 2 - feedback - Tarchannon@...
***********************


[Non-text portions of this message have been removed]

Headers and warnings on part 1.
Additional warning of potential romantic breakup.
Part 3 - Events from the junior X-men perspective, primarily Bobby.
Feedback is wanted, desired, lusted after... well, OK, just let me know what you
think. <g> Tarchannon@...


*                                                *
*
***Bobby***
About a half-hour later, I made it back down to the basement hallway with a big
duffel bag I had collected from the kitchen and from my own private stash of
goodies. I shouldered the bag, thinking it was a necessary evil to escape notice
– the girls had already stopped me, and I got away from them successfully by
muttering something about laundry. Honestly, I didn’t want them to know about
Dr. McCoy yet, and more importantly, that I screwed up yet again and probably
upset him. Jubilee, in particular, wouldn’t let me live the latter part down for
a long, _long_ time. Plus, I didn’t want to admit to screaming like a little
girl. I’d hear about _that_ for the rest of my life.

Since I didn’t know what Dr. McCoy liked as far as munchies went, I went hog
wild, packing every sweet thing I could find, including some of my special
favorites – dark chocolate Toblerone from Germany, Aero bars from Canada,
Smarties from Great Britain, and the ever elusive Charleston Chew from way down
south - the rare strawberry kind, rather than the more common chocolate.

Hey, I know my candy, alright?

Jean had verified that Dr. McCoy was still in the lab, so with my bag filled
like Santa on a mission, I stood in the hallway and knocked on the still
partially open basement lab door. The lights were on this time.

No answer. I knocked again, louder this time.

“Come in,” a deep voice called out after a few minutes.

Must still be in the office, I thought, seeing no one in the main section of the
lab. I ambled  to the back, careful not to knock anything with the bag. No one
came out to meet me, so I stopped in the doorway, glancing at the reflection in
the glass to see if Blue was in there.

/Blue./ The word rolled around my brain, seeming a fitting nickname, especially
for a person that I haven’t even really met yet. I grinned at myself, plotting
one-liners already.

The sight of the reflection of a big, dark shape in the window brought me back.
I set my bag down on the floor outside the doorway, took a deep breath, and
lightly knocked on the door as I stepped around the filing cabinet.

The figure at the computer turned, swiveling in his chair, to face me.
Linebacker. Blue. Lab coat. Tiny glasses. My brain had stuttered again, but this
time not in fear - incongruity.

It must have taken longer for my brain to process than I thought, because my
ears suddenly registered his greeting.

“Hello, young man. Welcome to my research laboratory. ”

My mouth dropped. His voice was deep, but clear and pleasant. Gentle, almost.
Very kind human eyes peered though tiny rectangular-lensed glasses, a keen
intelligence evident. A gentle, well mannered man was reveled within a body that
looked anything but.

“I’m Henry McCoy,” he extended a giant blue furred hand, “but my friends call me
Hank.”

“H-hello…,” was all I could stammer, my mild surprise evident.

The almost-concealed wince sobered my mind. I automatically reached out to shake
his proffered hand. It gave me a moment to look at him again and gather my
thoughts.

Even sitting, Hank was tall. He was amazingly broad shouldered and had a deep,
powerful chest. His arms seemed rather long, and his hands were big, warm, and
fuzzy soft, with extended digits tipped in conical black claws. His handshake
was strong, but very gentle.

Looking down, I saw that Hank was wearing black dress pants under his lab coat.
He wasn’t wearing shoes or socks, but immense leather loafers lay on the floor
beside his chair. His feet resembled his hands and seemed just as large. His lab
coat was worn over a crisp white button-down Oxford open at the throat.
Everywhere I could see, with the exception of his lips, was covered in
blue-black fur.

“M-my name is Bobby Drake, pleased to meet you.” I shook his hand firmly and
released it.

“Is Bobby short for Robert?” he asked.

Embarrassed by not introducing myself with my childhood nickname, I looked away
for a second, cheeks coloring.

/Great job Drake. After screaming like a little girl, he’s gonna think you’re a
12 year old dufus./

“Yeah,” I confessed, looking back up and meeting his eyes. His eyes were the
most human things about his face, I noticed. He had a thick neck and a wide
face. Nice gentle eyes well spaced across a long wide nose that ended in almost
cat-like nares. He had a wide chin, a strong jaw-line, and good, sharp
cheekbones. Elongated ears, again cat-like, framed his face, but not strangely
so. Thin lips surrounded a wide mouth filled with white teeth and elongated
incisors. His dark blue fur looked like it had a black undercoat, and the skin
of his lips and around his eyes was also black. He had a very feline face – kind
of handsome actually.

I found him amusing; this giant blue man with the obviously custom white lab
coat, the tiny granny glasses, and the gentle hands and voice. I couldn’t help
but smile at him.

As I watched, tension lines at the corners of his eyes that I hadn’t noticed
earlier released, smoothing his countenance. He had been worried about my
reaction. After my performance earlier, I felt about three inches tall. Maybe
two.

“About earlier,” I started, embarrassment coloring my voice. “I…”

“No, no,” he cut me off gently, as I looked up from contemplating  my shoes. I
raised an eyebrow. “You could not have known that I was here. Jean thought it
best to give me a brief period to acclimate to my new environment and fully
unpack before she introduced me to anyone.”

He paused, as if considering whether to continue. “Really, I think she just
wanted some time to prepare everyone for my arrival.”

He had said that last part a little too quietly. It was plain that he was
uncomfortable with the reactions that he had gotten from people. I’m sure I
hadn’t helped.

Hank drifted a bit, looking glum. That was something I could fix.

I took a big step forward, coming up right beside him and turned to lean against
his desk. I was just inside his personal space, and the intrusion caught his
attention back from wherever he had gone.

“Hank,” I started. “I can call you Hank, right? After all, we’ve already
screamed at each other,” I joked.

That comment earned me a toothy smile and a faint nod, the shadows slowly
receded from his eyes.

“I want to apologize. I should have known better than to sneak down here looking
for you in the dark…”

“Wait, Robert. The fact that you were looking for me implies that you knew that
I was here.”

Caught me. Better fess up. “Yeah. I saw you come in the other night and I was
curious. I mean how often do you see a trench coat that big?” I teased.

He looked a bit startled, but seeing the obvious twinkle in my eye, he relaxed
and chuckled.

“Yeah, I knew you were, Blue…”

Hank’s eyebrow shot up at my chosen nickname.

I hurriedly asked, “You don’t mind me calling you that do you? I saw you come
in, and I didn’t know your name, so I just thought of you as Blue.”

Hank looked a little dubious. “But, how…,” he began.

“Briefcase. No gloves.”

He nodded sagely, still a little sad.

“Besides, blue’s my favorite color,” I gently teased, not being above adding a
winsome look.

I was rewarded with a lopsided, toothy grin.

“I saw the boxes arrive, so I figured that they must have been yours,” I
explained, continuing my description of my spy game. I neglected to tell him
that I thought he might have been visiting Jean in the evening.

“So I snuck down when I could get away and followed the boxes …”

“And you… startled me while I was thinking.”

In hindsight, it was pretty funny. I cracked up.

“Thinking?” I sputtered, “While hanging from the ceiling?”

“You see, Robert, when standing or sitting upright for long periods of time,
blood tends to pool in your lower extremities…”

I did my best to keep a straight face, but I was failing miserably.

“…Anatomical inversion eliminated the pooling and increases the blood flow to
the brain, thereby…”

At the last bit, my control snapped, and I roared with laughter.

Hank stopped his explanation and looked a bit embarrassed, coloring a bit
purple. My laughter must have been infections, however, because a grin started
to pull upward at his lips as I watched. It made me laugh even harder, and he
ended up laughing along with me.

“Our earlier encounter in the office was amusing, was it not?” he admitted as
our laughter eased.

“How about we make a deal – I won’t mention the screaming part if you won’t. I’m
not sure the others would be impressed,” I asked playfully and stuck out my
hand.

“Deal,” he told me, with a sudden solemn dignity belied by a wink. He had
finally fully relaxed.

“Oh!” I exclaimed, suddenly remembering the bag. “I forgot something.”

I took a couple of steps and dragged the bag back into the office.

“Welcome to mutant high,” I proclaimed as I opened the bag and dumped most of
the contents on the floor.

“Twinkies!” he exclaimed excitedly, grabbing the box from among the other
snacks. “My favorite!”

*                                                *
*
***Jubilee***
Jubilee had just finished practicing shooting pool. The last time she played
with the boys she had gotten well and truly whomped, and she hated that. It just
wasn’t her style, and style was important. So for the last few days, she had
been sneaking downstairs to sharpen her skills.

She had just put everything back where she found it when she heard voices from
the hallway.

“Jean, come on…,” she heard Mr. Summers say.  His voice sounded strange. Heels
clicked on the marble floor, then quietly thudded onto the stairs. A second set
of heavy footsteps followed behind.

“Jean, please. Just stop.”

Jubilee quietly ducked back against the wall near the doorway, startled. Mr.
Summers sounded almost… hysterical.

“Scott, you know this isn’t going to help.” Dr. Gray was speaking soft and low,
but an edge of pain was evident in her voice.

“Jean, I-I can’t… I’m sorry…please!,” he stammered, begging her. Jubilee could
hear the anguish in his tone. She knew there would be tears in his eyes, and her
own eyes welled in sympathy.

“Doesn’t the fact that you feel you _can’t_ make you realize you have to?” she
whispered in a voice so low that if it weren’t for the acoustics of the main
hall, Jubilee would have had no hope of hearing them.

She listened as he made a sound somewhere between as gasp and a choke. Tears
came unbidden to her eyes, and slid down her face.

“I’m sorry,” the older woman said in a quiet, firm voice thick with emotion.

Jubilee heard her footsteps as they climbed the stairway. She heard the thud of
a man falling to his knees, then a quiet sobbing.

She had never seem him upset before, let alone cry. It just wasn’t his style.
She stayed silent in the game room so as not to embarrass him, silently weeping
in sympathy.

*                                                *
*
***Bobby***
Another night of precious little sleep. I could barely function.

The alarm went  off at 07:00, and I had to hit it four or five times before I
had become fully conscious.  Only then did I realize that I was still sitting up
in bed with a certain blond 8-year old curled up beside me.

It had been another rough night. I was  up very late finishing his history essay
and studying for my physics test. My brain wasn’t working well, and I just
hadn’t been able to get through the work like I normally could. Also, my control
was slipping, making my ink pens pop as they froze. Not only was that annoying,
but made a big mess. Then the nightmares started, and from the growling and
screaming just one floor up, I could tell that my hopefully-girlfriend was
having Logan’s dark dreams. It must have been bad, because she hadn’t wanted to
see me, so I just tried in vain to ignore the sounds of her pain. The sound must
have traveled somehow and triggered Nicholas’ dreams, because just as Rogue was
quieting down, Nightwalker had brought Nicholas to me. Tired beyond sleep at
that point, I  held him and quieted him with careful words until he fell asleep
again. I remember looking at my clock - 03:30. I must have dozed off sometime
after that.

I had begun to drift again as the sound of passing feet in the hall brought
reality crashing back. I literally jumped up when I remembered that I had a
mutant power training at 08:00 with Scott. I got Nicholas on his way back to his
room, and ran to the shower. With a groan, I realized there would be no
breakfast for me today.

I skidded to a halt just inside the door of the danger room, my hair still damp.
It was 08:02, and Fearless Leader was already tight-lipped and tapping his foot.
Inwardly, I groaned. /This was _so_ not the way I wanted to start the day./

***
By 13:55, and I was sitting outside the workout room waiting for Scott to arrive
for hand-to-hand training. I was a few minutes early and none of the other older
students had arrived yet. Exhausted, I leaned back against the wall, letting my
head sag forward. I was so tired, and my day had been world-class bad. Not only
was I late to my morning training, but I consistently screwed up the entire
time. It hadn’t helped that Scott started in a foul mood that got exponentially
worse as the lesson went on. I couldn’t focus.  I kept either missing robotic
attacks, tripping the fail safes, or I’d freeze the bloody things too hard, and
the hydraulics popped. Scott wouldn’t even look at me when I was done. After
that, I promptly forgot every last thing I knew about physics and miserably
failed my test. I fell asleep in World History and caught flak from Ms. Munroe.
I was starving by the time I got to lunch and I wolfed my food down, which I
regretted immediately afterward. Mechanics class went pretty well, as it was
hands on and pretty easy. Now I was waiting.

I slid down the wall to sit on the floor, pulling my knees in and resting my
head on them. I closed my eyes for just a second, and the next thing I heard was
Scott shouting.

Startled, I jumped up, noticing that everyone had assembled and was standing
around, watching me. Scott looked hard in my direction, mouth pursed in
disapproval. I felt a bit woozy, and he was starting to make me mad. After all,
I was the one up all night with Rogue and Nicholas. He was _supposed_ to be the
team leader, for God’s sake.

I was angry and a little dizzy, and my mind just wasn’t on jujitsu. One second I
was sparring with John, the next he was on the ground with a yelp. I was
honestly surprised because I didn’t even recall what I had done. Scott was there
in a flash, before I could even reach out to my closest friend. I tried to help,
but Scott barked at me to back off. John had gone down hard on his ankle, so
Scott had Kitty help him get to the med lab. As they left, I shot an apologetic
look at John. Catching my look, he waved it off, shooting me a smile that told
me all was forgiven.

Cyclops was another matter. He was staring at the floor turning red in the face.
After John was out of earshot, his nearly unshakable control gave way and he
started on me.

“What in the hell is going on with you?” he shouted. The other students,
shocked, took that as a sign and, thankfully, withdrew from the gym.

I’m not sure whether it was his tone that reminded me of my father, or the fact
that no one had raised their voice to me like that since I was rescued and
brought here. Maybe it was that I was so tired. But whatever it was, it sparked
fire in my normally glacial belly. It built with startling rapidity as Scott
continued.

“You just aren’t paying attention. You broke three robots this morning, Aurora
tells me that you weren’t paying attention in class, and now your carelessness
caused an injury. You need to be more responsible…”

That was it! The fire in my belly blew up through my brain, and I saw red. If I
hadn’t been aware of the rapidly dropping room temperature, I’d have sworn that
fire would have shot from my eyes.

“Responsibility? Responsibility!? Why don’t we talk about _your_ responsibility?
Where have you been while Rogue’s been up half the night? She tells me that you
haven’t been around in weeks. And were you aware that Nicholas has spent half
the nights this week in my room because he’s having nightmares again?”

Scott stopped dead in his tracks, his breath visible in the rapidly chilling
room.

“And what in the hell have _you_ done, Scott? Something is going on… the kids
are freaked. You haven’t been around lately, and Jean looks like she’s about to
burst into tears half the time…”

My rant started with loud, furious outrage but ended  in a quiet, plaintive
tone. The thing that really made me stop was the look on his face. His look had
fallen from anger to shock, then to a guilty sorrow. He gulped once, then looked
down, the tension draining from him.

After what I said finally sunk in, I was shocked at my behavior. It was so
strong, and he certainly didn’t deserve all of that. I quickly got seriously
upset with myself. With a thought, I warmed the room, relinquishing my
unconscious attempt to alter the ambient conditions to my advantage. It was a
tactic that Scott had taught me.

I was suddenly ashamed about lashing out at him, he didn’t deserve it, and I
didn’t know what to say. My cooler brain knew that I had really hurt him, which
I didn’t intend to do. Not knowing what to do next, I ran out of the room
leaving Scott staring at the floor in silence.

*                                                *
*
***Kitty***
Kitty Pryde was just about to knock on Mr. Summers’ door to ask him about the
Advanced English poetry assignment when she heard voices, loud voices that could
be heard through the heavy oak door. She hesitated a moment before listening.

“No, Scott.” Kitty heard a woman’s voice. /Dr. Gray?/

“I don’t agree. Isn’t there any other way?” Mr. Summers’ voice. Angry.

“No, there isn’t.” Firm. Hint of sadness.

“I don’t want this.” Intense.  Controlled anger.

“I know.” Sorrow.

“Dammit, Jean. Don’t you love me anymore?” Softly. Wrenchingly desperate. 
Pleading.

“Of, course I do. That’s why…” So soft. So very sad.

There was a drawn out pause. Kitty unconsciously held her breath.

“Get out.” His voice was cold, so cold, and so final that Kitty shuddered.

Heeled steps approached the door. Kitty, suddenly realizing that she was in a
very bad place, launched herself at the wall and phased through. She listened as
the sounds of Dr. Gray’s steps receded and vanished. After a moment, she phased
back to the hallway. The big oak door was ajar, and through it she could hear
her favorite teacher softly crying, the gasps occasionally punctuated by a fist
being slammed on the desk.

********************* End of Part 3 - feedback - Tarchannon@...
***********************


[Non-text portions of this message have been removed]

I wanted to get the whole thing out by the weekend, so you get an extra part
today. Finale tomorrow. <g>

Headers and warnings on part 1.
Additional warning of potential romantic breakup.
Part 4/5 - Events from the junior X-men perspective, primarily Bobby.
Feedback is wanted, desired, lusted after. Well, OK, just let me know what you
think. <g> Tarchannon@...

*                                                *
*
***Bobby***
I had sat at Harry’s for several hours, nursing a series of Cokes and hoping the
sugar buzz would make me feel better.

After blowing up at Scott, I’d taken one of the hypercycles and fled. I’d needed
someplace to think,  somewhere where I wasn’t going to be interrupted or
‘accidentally’ overheard by Jean. Harry’s was the closest thing that fit the
bill.

Mac had given me the hard eye when I walked in alone in the middle of the
afternoon. I’d been coming in with Jean and Scott or Warren for a couple of
years now, but I had always been with an adult before. She knew the Professor
because she was a mutant too, and she kept an eye out for the Academy students.
The bar and pool hall was pretty much the only real hangout on the Six between
the Academy and Salem Center.

I gave Mac a nod, and as she watched I took up residence in a booth away from
the door. After a minute or two, she came over and slid into the other side of
the booth.

“So what’s up?” she asked.

“Rough day,” I told her. She looked at me with sympathy.

“Want a Coke?”

“Yeah.”

She wandered away for a minute, then returned with an icy soda. I didn’t even
look up, thinking about how badly I screwed up today. She watched me for about a
minute, looking like she wanted to say something, but when I didn’t acknowledge
her presence, she went back to the bar, giving me some space.

I sat there the rest of the afternoon. I thought more about my Dad than anyone
else, the father that I rarely saw these days even though Professor Xavier had
arranged for him to move up to New York after I had fled Lakeview, Ohio. Jean
and Warren had actually pulled me from the lake just in the nick of time, from
the jagged hole in the ice that I made when my neighbors had chased me out too
far. I had accidentally iced up the neighborhood bully, Jason Jameson, because
he and his cronies were going to beat up my me and my friend. I hadn’t been
concerned for myself, but Matt was a small guy and he was the only friend I had.
It turned out that Jason had been OK, but the town had freaked. My dad had
always been really strict, and it had gotten worse after mom died. It got to the
point where there was only silence or yelling. The whole mutant thing had
brought everything to a head and we have barely spoken since the Professor has
agreed to take me on at the Mansion, now the Xavier Academy.

I had seen too much of my father in me today – it was like I was channeling the
parts that I hated about him. Not that I hated my dad, but I couldn’t live with
him. The silences and the shouting were just too much for me to deal with,
especially after mom had died. Maybe that’s why I tried so hard to make everyone
happy. I had grown good at being the best friend, the class clown, and the guy
everyone depended on. Maybe I’d gotten too good. Now, I felt like I was locked
into this role that I had invented.

Everything was just so much right now. I rubbed my eyes then my neck, which had
stiffened from lack of sleep and the bad jujitsu match. Mac brought me a burger
and a fresh Coke, and when I looked up at her in thanks, I saw the concern in
her eyes. I waved my hand to let her know that I was OK, and she just nodded
sagely and went back to the bar.

I sat and pondered a while, and getting nowhere fast, I noticed I’d been gone a
long time. I threw down a few bills to cover my tab plus a nice tip, and nodded
to Mac as I left. I kind-of-smiled my thanks and she had just nodded,
understanding.

Outside, I stopped and stretched. Knowing that the Professor could hear me this
far out, I mentally reached out to him to let him know that I was alright. After
assuring him that I was fine, I told him that I was going to take a ride to
clear my head, and that I’d be back to the school in an hour or two. He’d
sounded concerned, but I was firm. I’d never done that with him before. I think
he was surprised, but I was thankful that he didn’t pull rank.

*****
I’d rode for an hour or so, going up and down the back roads around the Xavier
Estate. The cool, fresh air and the beauty of the spring foliage helped clear my
head. I still hadn’t decided what I should do when I pulled into the garage.

Entering the building, I passed by the lab, and I immediately thought about
Hank. He was a smart guy, and he knew Scott. Best of all, he wasn’t in the
middle of the situation, and he didn’t have any preconceived notions about me.
Maybe he’d know how best to explain this mess to Cyclops.

When I got down to the main lab, Hank was still working. During our handful of
visits, I had come to find out that he was a night owl, and he worked nearly
around the clock sometimes. He was still on the computer in his office when I
arrived.

“Blue!” I called out.

“Is that you Robert? I’m in my office,” a deep voice replied after a moment. I
grinned, forgetting my troubles for a minute. He must be working – he called me
Robert.

I walked into the office and plopped down into the open chair. Hank turned from
his computer, to look at me and an eyebrow when up.

“Is everything all right, Bobby?” he asked, concern coloring his voice. “Jean
was looking for you earlier this afternoon. She seemed very concerned.”

I groaned. I hadn’t realized that needing a couple hours of to myself would
cause them to call out the search party. “I’m OK.”

“You look tired,” he chastised me, but after I wince, his toned changed to
concern. “Is there anything I can do for you?”

I had come down for some advice and now that I was here, I wasn’t sure how to
ask.

“Bobby, you can talk to me. We are friends, are we not?” Hank said softly,
leaning forward slightly to lean on his knees. His bright blue eyes were open
and kind.

“Yeah, I guess we are,” I told Hank.

I sighed and leaned back in the chair, closing my eyes. I started to explain,
but I felt I had to start at the beginning. I told him about my mom, and dad and
how things changed after she died. I told him about Jason and the accident and
the mob that had gathered later and chased me out onto the ice. The words just
kept coming – the rescue, how the Professor set things up with my dad so I could
stay here, and my relationship with Scott, Jean, Aurora, and Warren. I told him
how much I liked being at the Academy, and how I did my best to take care of
everyone, and how I felt that I was failing everyone the last few months.

Hank had listened carefully, nodding with sympathy and letting me ramble until
that point.

“Bobby,” he said gently, interrupting, “Don’t you think that’s a bit much to
expect of yourself? You’re only seventeen. When I was your age, my biggest worry
was where I was going out on Saturday night.”

I had to admit that he was right, I mean most high school seniors didn’t have to
pencil  in time for eight-year old orphans, friends with deadly superpowers, and
irregular combat training sessions into their school schedule. The observation
was helpful, though I wasn’t sure that it would change a whole lot. It made feel
a little better, though.

Hank continued, “I’ll talk to Charles about making sure that there are more
adults available in the evenings.”

He raised his hand to ward the objection forming on my lips. “I know that you
want to be there for your friends. That’s admirable. But it is your primary
responsibility to be a student, and you can’t learn if you don’t sleep.”

His tone was firm at the end, and he looked hard at me, waiting for my nod of
assent, which I reluctantly gave. I sat for a minute, thinking.

“But, Bobby, what happened today to make you leave?”

I let the question hang in the air, but Hank was a patient man, and I could tell
he wasn’t going to let it go. I reluctantly related the incident in the gym.

“I couldn’t believe that I did that to Scott. When he started yelling, I’d just
snapped. Scott is nothing like my dad, but it made me feel the same way, except
this time I fought back. I yelled at _him_, laying out all his flaws just like
my dad did to me. Now I feel horrible because I know what it’s like to be on the
receiving end,” I explained, ashamed. “I wasn’t fair.”

“Why wasn’t it fair?” Blue asked.

“Because something bad is going on with Scott and Jean, and he’s upset, and I
didn’t know what to do, and nobody is talking…” My comments trailed off, unshed
tears welling in my eyes.

I think that’s what had me freaked out the worst – the not knowing what was
going on with Scott and Jean. There were just to many silences, too many
camouflaged emotions. It was like when mom was sick – no one would tell me
anything, but the air had this heaviness of anger and sadness and dread. That’s
how it felt to me right now at the Academy, and it was stifling. I loved Scott
and Jean, they were the core of my new family. They had been like my big brother
and sister, or maybe more like parents at times. Except this time, they were
ones I couldn’t handle. Maybe that’s what it made it so tough. I knew that they
were going to break up, I felt it. I’m just not sure that I could deal with it.

Hank reached out to wrap and big blue paw around my knee. “It will all work out
in the end. I know that Scott and Jean love each other, and they both talk about
their ‘kids’ all the time. Sometimes love is complicated, as you are just
finding out. Scott and Jean may not end up being a couple. It happens, even to
the best of people. It does not mean that they don’t love you. I know that you
are special to both of them because they have told me so.”

I think my doubt must have been plain, because Hank paused, considering.

“You know, in a strange way, I knew you before I met you.”

He saw the look of surprise on my face. “You don’t think that they could have
forgotten to pass along the tale of Angel stuck in the swimming pool…,” he
snorted with laughter, rocking back in his chair.

As upset as I was, I couldn’t help but smile. Warren Worthington the Third,
international playboy and gazillionaire, frozen to the waist in the lap pool was
a great prank, after all. It must have been the unrepeatable vocabulary pouring
out of that well bred mouth that did the trick for me.

That had been a good day.

After Hank stopped chuckling, he continued. “If I know Scott, he thinks this is
entirely his fault and he’s probably off brooding somewhere.”

“But…,” I started, but Hank interrupted.

“Just talk to him, Robert.” Hank’s formal tone indicated seriousness, he had
discovered. The big man got to his feet and gently rested a big paw on my
shoulder. It was comforting.

“Come back tomorrow and tell me how things went. But, you must be off to bed. No
arguments. I’ll talk to Jean about keeping your distractions to a minimum
tonight.”

I started to object, but Blue simply gathered me out of the chair and was
escorting me out of the lab before I realized what was going on.

“Robert. Bed. Now,” he ordered with a toothy grin.

                                                 *
*                                              *
***Bobby***
I didn’t have English the following day, nor did I have a training session with
Scott scheduled. I did, however, have to play twenty questions with virtually
everyone in the building about my little trip. I’d managed to dodge the more
serious inquiries of my persistent comrades, begging a need to catch up on
homework. After class, I tried to track Scott down, finally spotting him alone
on the basketball court. I wandered over toward the court, still unsure of what
to say.

He spotted me as I crossed the road from the main building, but he kept on
playing. I stopped at the side of the court and watched him for a minute or two.
I noticed that he was really good at making baskets, something I hadn’t noticed
when he played with other people. I just thought he wasn’t a very good player,
but it suddenly became clear to me that his problem was that he was too timid on
the court. Maybe he was afraid that he’d hurt someone if his glasses got bumped.
Though many of us had deadly powers and were tougher than average people, we
were all kind of fragile in a way, I guess.

“Hey,” Scott called out to me, casually rolling the ball between his hip and
wrist.

“Hey,” I said with a nervous smile.

“About yesterday…,”he started.

“I’m sorry,” we both said simultaneously.

The ease of his apology caught me by surprise and I paused. It was so
uncharacteristic. OK, it was downright strange.

/I must have really upset him./

“No, Bobby, I really have to…,” he started to explain.

“How are _you_?” I inquired with concern, interrupting him. He looked genuinely
surprised at both the interruption and the question.

He thought a minute, considering a response and looking younger than I
remembered him looking in a long time. He quietly confessed, “Not great.”

I walked up to him, just to the edge of his personal space, and looked into his
goggled eyes. “Me either,” I told him honestly.

A moment stretched as we simply looked at one another. Things we didn’t really
want to voice passed between us.

“You know I’ve got your back,” I told him gruffly.

“And I’ve got yours,” he told me, a small, surprised but genuine, smile coming
to his lips.

It was a small thing, that exchange, but it ran deep. Things were forgiven on
both sides. I think it reminded both of us that it was OK to let other people
help when things get tough. It was an easy thing to forget and a hard thing to
do.

On mischievous impulse, I quickly lunged forward, passing him on the left and
knocking the basketball from his grip. I took a couple steps, turned dribbling,
and stopped a little more than an arm’s length away. He spun, surprised, and I
grinned like the Cheshire Cat.

“So, do you want to play?” I offered. We hadn’t played one-on-one together in
more than a year, and that was a mistake I wanted to rectify.

Scott grinned back, looking almost happy, and assumed a defensive stance between
me and the basket.

                                                 *
*                                              *
***Bobby***
There was only five days to go when I had the idea.

The last couple of months had been rough on us all, and I had been thinking that
we could all use a little fun. Halloween had never been a favorite holiday here
at the Academy as it struck a little close to home for some of the students. But
this year was going to be different – I was going to organize our own little
Monster’s Ball. It was time to bring some monsters to light.

Besides, I had the perfect ‘monster’ to honor.

I had my brainstorm in History, so I had to wait until class was over to ask
Jubes, Kitty, and John if they were on board. The fact that I was half deaf from
the shrieking and that I had two lip-shaped patches of lip gloss on my cheeks
was a good sign. John just grinned like a fool.

With the girls on board, I felt a little more comfortable approaching the
adults. I thought Jean would be the best bet for an ally on the faculty since I
knew Halloween was her second favorite holiday after Christmas. Plus, I wanted
to see if she thought Hank would go for it.

The girls had blabbed at lunch and got about half of the students excited, so by
the time biology was over and I could approach Jean, she already had an idea of
what was going on. I waited until everyone had filed out of the classroom before
I went up and perched on the edge of her desk. I noticed the poorly suppressed
smile as I waited for her to finish packing her briefcase.

“Dr. Gray…” I began.

“Bobby, it’s Jean outside of class, she interrupted, gracing me with a genuine,
stunning smile.

“Jean,” I smiled back. I had forgotten how beautiful she actually was – flawless
pale skin, flame red hair, sparkling green eyes. I remember thinking that same
thought the first time I saw her, back in my old room in the Mansion on my first
day here. After that, I hadn’t really thought about it – Scott and Warren mooned
over her, and she became like an older sister in my mind. She was a beautiful
lady, though, especially when she smiled.

“I have a proposal.”

“A Halloween party?” she teased. News traveled fast around here, especially with
the telepaths.

“Well, I was thinking, with Halloween coming up, and things have been a little
tense lately…,” I began.

“And you thought that everyone ingesting a ludicrous amount of sugar would help
things,” she finished, a glint of mischief in her eye.

“I was thinking more along the lines of a costume party in the Mansion ballroom
with games and dancing and snacks,” I said firmly, wanting my request to be
taken seriously.

“You have a good costume idea already?” Jean guessed.

“Well, not exactly,” I said, being a little evasive. She raised her eyebrow
expectantly.

/Damn, telepaths,/ I thought softly, shielding.  “I was also thinking that it
would be a good opportunity to introduce our new faculty member.”

I held my breath, not sure whether she’d like or hate the idea, or worse, if she
thought Hank would be offended by the suggestion. I thought it would be a great
idea to introduce Blue to everyone in costume, so they could get to know him
without being as intimidated by his appearance.

Jean looked like she was a million miles away for a few moments, and when her
eyes refocused on me, she still looked thoughtful. “I think the party idea is a
good one, but you’ll have to ask Hank first about ‘coming out’, so to speak. Let
me ask the others if they’ll support the event, and I’ll let you know at
dinner.”

Suddenly the twinkle reappeared in her eye, and before I could react, her hand
shot out and messed up my hair like she used to do. I just stared at her,
teasing, the practiced expression of a wet cat on my face. I managed to hold the
expression for about five seconds, just long enough to draw a laugh from her. I
couldn’t help but laugh along,

“Thanks,” she said fondly, after the laughter had trickled away.

“See you at dinner,” I told her as I moved toward the door, smoothing my hair
back down. I wasn’t quite sure what the thanks was for exactly, but it made me
happy nonetheless.

********************* End of Part 4 - feedback - Tarchannon@...
***********************


[Non-text portions of this message have been removed]

Upon reread of my last message with the same title, I just wanted to reiterate
that anyone interested in participating (in either a challenge or a round robin
based on the previously provided couple paragraphs) can join. I think it looked
like I was making specific invitations - which I was I guess - but that was
based on previous interest. Anyone can join.

So if you are interested, please e-mail me and let me know which you would
prefer. If we don't get at least 6 people for a round robin, I'll post it as a
challenge. Of course, if a dozen people e-mail me and all say challenge - hey,
who am I to argue! <g>

Please consider it, even of you are timid or new. I want to read your stuff!

Best,

Tarch

Tarchannon@...



[Non-text portions of this message have been removed]

Headers and warnings on part 1.
Part 5 - Events from the junior X-men perspective, primarily Bobby.
Since this is the end of this story, I'd really appreciate your comments - what
worked, what didn't. Hey, just drop me a line if you liked it, but don't want to
get into details. As a writer trying to improve, your comments are helpful! 
Tarchannon@...

                                                 *
*                                              *
***Bobby***
  “Now, hold still, “ I grumbled at the fidgeting man.

“Bobby, I do not believe that you succeeded in convincing me to attend this
event,” Hank complained. I was trying to hook the large costume cravat around
his neck. “And this costume!”

I had done a bad thing – actually several bad, bad things. First, it had taken
an hour of whining and pleading, and a whole box of Twinkies, to convince Hank
to attend the party. Second, I had to find a costume for him. I just couldn’t
help myself. I had to search all over the country, but I had managed find the
perfect costume. Hank was swathed from neck to toe in white and pale peach
satin. Jean had agreed to be his escort, and her matching costume had arrived
with his. They would be perfect!

I had felt a little bad about Blue’s costume, as it was a little theatrical, but
that only lasted until Marie informed me that we were going as Cinderella and
Prince Charming. I hadn’t been aware that tights were so chilly, but I thought
that not wearing the tights might be even chillier.

The other older students and I had spent most of our free time over the last two
days at the Mansion putting up decorations. The Professor had been really
supportive, and had ordered food and decorations and paid for all of the
costumes. It was a lot of work, but it was fun and exciting, and it seemed to
lift everyone’s spirits. I even got Scott to agree to come in costume.

“There,” I said, stepping back to examine my handiwork. Hank looked sharp – well
as sharp as one could look in peach satin. “You look great! Your mask is on the
bench over there. Jean said she’d come down here to get you when she was ready.”

“I’m not sure this was a good idea,” Hank said nervously. He’d told me earlier
in the week that he hadn’t been out in public since the incident that caused his
mutation to accelerate and he’d gotten furry and blue. Most of the reactions
that he’d gotten from his colleagues were positive, but he’d had a few negative
ones when he went out in public and they had really affected him.

“It will be fine, Hank. I promise.” I smiled my most winning smile, and
internally crossing my fingers. The Professor and Jean said that they would look
out for him this evening. I sent a little prayer to any of the gods that would
listen that the evening would be a success for my new friend.

                                                 *
*                                              *
***Bobby***
The party had started early for the younger kids because they couldn’t stay up
as late as the rest of us. Dr. Palmer, Nightwalker, and Mr. and Mrs. Martinez
had agreed to run the games and watch after them so the rest of us could finish
getting ready after we had helped the young ones get dressed. I’d just finished
strapping on my sword when Rogue knocked on my door. She’d looked beautiful,
just like in the movie, with a pink and white full-length dress, puffed sleeves
and long opera gloves, hair pulled up, and a string of pearls around her neck.
My back coat with tails, white shirt, and gold sash, over short pantaloons and
white tights fit reasonably well and we looked great together. I offered her my
arm and a huge smile. We took the elevator down, then followed the long trail of
flickering luminaries to the darkened and newly eerie Mansion through the
gardens.

The ballroom at the Mansion was a special use only place, very traditional
European in style, gold leaf and murals and tons of mirrors. The softly lit
crystal chandelier had to weigh more than a car. We had brought in chairs and
tables and covered them with dark fall colored fabric, added tons of fake
battery powered candles, hung spiders and cobwebs, and strewn the corners of the
room with colored fall leaves.

Julian had started the music by the time we arrived, and a few of the older kids
were there as well. Most of the little ones were already tuckered out, tired
from the games or getting sleepy. Most were sitting in chairs, talking quietly
or munching on treats as the watched the older people arrive.

We entered the ballroom and crossed to Jubilee, who had decided to continue the
classic Disney theme I had started and dressed as Mulan. Though she usually wore
yellow, tonight she wore red, and she looked beautiful. She was so excited, she
pulled me down for a kiss on the cheek as soon as I was within arms reach.

“Doesn’t this place look great? Very Martha,” she gushed, and I had to nod. It
was pretty good for short notice, I thought.

“It’s perfect. This was a great idea,” Marie told me softly, squeezing my arm
gently and granting me one of those award winning smiles. She started to bop a
bit to the infectious music Techno had selected for the evening.

We had gone for some punch and watched at the others arrived, with the kids
tittering at each new costume. Kitty had selected Sleeping Beauty, and she came
on the arm of John, who had also been coerced into the Prince in tights costume.
We looked like bookends with different color sashes.

Akasha, dressed as Princess Jasmine, came in with Anna, who had chosen
Pochohontas. I watched with great interest as Akasha immediately noticed Julian
behind the mixing table. She blushed furiously and ducked behind Anna as she saw
that he’d come as Aladdin.

/Hmmmm,/ I thought, my eyebrow rising unconsciously.

People starting coming quickly, and the girls wanted to dance. Marie nodded
toward the dance floor, and I nodded then raised a finger to let her know I’d be
along in a minute.

I watched as most of the other kids arrive, Sam as Simba, the triumvirate –
Piotr, Neo, and Martin – as three dwarves. Then the staff started arriving.
Tinker came as a chimney sweep, with Cherise on his arm as a British nanny. Even
Scott and Aurora, as Robin Hood and Rafiki, had arrived. I was getting nervous,
and it was annoying that Scott looked better in tights than I did.

I held off for another minute or two hoping they show up so I relax. I watched
as Marie had pulled Nicholas out on the dance floor and was getting him to shake
his groove thing in a bumble bee costume. I had to chuckle as he got into it,
watching Marie wide-eyed and laughing the whole time.

Unexpectedly, the music faded and the sound of a trumpet fanfare –
electronically provided, of course – drew my attention back to the doorway. The
final couple of the evening stood in the doorway, Hank huge and dapper and Jean
looking as beautiful as ever. They were storybook perfect. Julian announced over
the audio system, “Our guest of honor, Dr. Henry McCoy and his escort, Dr. Jean
Gray.” The room quieted and people stared at the couple. The silence lengthened.

“Beast!” Nicholas shouted, spotting Hank. My heart leapt into my throat as my
attention snapped to the blond 8 year-old. You could have heard a pin drop.

Then Nicholas started running, but to my surprise, _toward_ Hank.

“And Belle!” he shouted joyfully. He ran over to Hank and wrapped both arms
around his knee. Hank’s expression went from apprehensive to dumfounded, and
everyone started laughing, the tension broken.

I gulped in relief, thankful, and thought, /That’s my little buddy!/

After a few moments, Jean extracted Nicholas from Hank’s leg and tugged them
both toward the refreshments. People watched the giant man intently for a few
moments, but then they drifted back to their previous pursuits. A smile spread
across my face, and I knew it was going to be there for a while.

I felt a tug on my arm, and Marie pulled me out on the dance floor. It had been
a hell of a month and I suddenly felt like flying. I laughed out loud, bumping
and grinding, and forgot everything else for just a little while.

                                                 *
*                                              *
The rest of the night had gone amazingly well. The little ones were taken to bed
just after Hank had arrived, and after, we’d all danced together for a couple
hours. The teachers allowing us an extra hour or so because we were all having
such a good time. John and I had a chance to show off a couple of dance moves
that we’d practiced, making the girls squeal – whether in appreciation or
amusement I wasn’t sure. Of course, it didn’t really matter because it was fun.
Hank was a surprisingly good dancer, and even Scott got into the action. He and
Jean never looked at each other the entire night, so I assumed that they were
through. The realization had brought me down a bit, but it wasn’t exactly a
surprise.

After, Marie and I had walked through the formal gardens under the new moon.
Most of the plants had withered in the New England chill, and we didn’t stay out
long, but it was beautiful to see the stars nonetheless. We didn’t say much, we
just walked hand in hand. When I dropped he in her room, she just smiled at me
in a way that was hard to coax out of her. It made me brilliantly happy, and I
kissed her gloved hand and said goodnight.

After I’d showered and changed for bed, I was still a little restless. I turned
off the light and opened the window, letting in the cool air. I stared out
across the rooftops, over the labs, to the lake in the distance, gently
glimmering in the moonlight. I sat for a long time, just watching, afraid to do
anything that would ruin this feeling. I felt better than I had in months.

The steady glow of a light coming on in the distance pulled my focus back to the
building, low and dim from the basement labs. Hank must have gone back to work.

I was so relieved and thankful that the party had worked out and Blue was happy.
He certainly deserved it.

Hank had told me that after the accident, he had inadvertently run into a little
girl and her mother. She had screamed and called him a monster. He’d fled from
the child, shocked and deeply upset. I think that in some way he actually felt
like a monster, and I think that was at least part of the reason he left Xanthon
Biomedical and came here. Of course, Hank is about as far from a monster as you
can get, but I could understand - I think we all feel like a alien creature some
days. In Hank’s case, I think that feeling became that shadow in the closet that
we don’t want to look acknowledge.

Of course, we all have our own monsters to deal with, those things we fear, the
things we don’t want to see but know that are there. I know I have my share.

I had thought that Hank was a monster the first time I saw him in the dark of
the lab. I’d run away, but I eventually returned to face him. Blue certainly
wasn’t what I had thought. Later, when some of my personal monsters had raised
their heads, he was the one that helped.

One person’s monster is another person’s beloved beast, I guess.

A Beast in peach satin. I had to chuckle at that.

I sat in the dark for a while longer, looking out into the evening. Eventually,
the lab went dark, and I assume Hank went to bed. I was exhausted, but the
evening had been really good, and I didn’t want it to end just yet. When I was
too tired to stay awake any longer, I leaned up and reached to close the window.
Below, I caught a glimpse of the faint glowing red of Scott’s visor. He was
sitting on the edge of the fountain in the courtyard, and it looked like he’d
been there a while.

I sighed. I guess Scott has his own monsters to deal with. I made a mental note
to catch up with him tomorrow. That was the great thing about being here – we
don’t have to deal with our monsters alone.


********************* End of Part 5 - end of story - feedback -
Tarchannon@... ***********************



[Non-text portions of this message have been removed]

I mentioned this before over on OTL, I believe, but it somehow
escaped me at the time that Michael had actually put the *script*
online.  Maybe that's a recent addition, but more likely, I just
overlooked it.

This might be of interest to some of you.  Michael Chabon was among
those asked to submit a treatment of X-MEN: The Movie, before the
final script choice was made.  Here it is:

http://www.michaelchabon.com/X-Men.html

Yes, THAT Michael Chabon, Pultizer Winner and PEN/Faulkner Finalist,
author of (among other things) THE AMAZING ADVENTURES OF KAVALIER AND
CLAY (which won him the Pulitzer, in fact) -- a novel about the comic
book industry.  Anyone interested in comics and good fiction and
America post-WWII ought to give it a read.  (Two thumbs up, as S&E
used to say.)

The link above goes first to his letter commenting on the previous
scripts he was sent, and at the bottom is a link to his own
treatment.  Who would his line-up?  Cyke, Jean, Beast, Nightcrawler,
Storm, Iceman, Wolverine and Jubilee.  No Rogue, no Magneto.  But
Jubes in a role remarkably similar to the one given to Rogue in the
film.  Hmmm.  Can't copyright an idea....

Was Singer wrong to reject him, or right?  YOU be the judge. <G>
(And, we could ask, should lit mainstream authors ever be turned
loose in the media??? <chuckle>)

--Min

__________________________________________________
Do You Yahoo!?
Yahoo! - Official partner of 2002 FIFA World Cup
http://fifaworldcup.yahoo.com

Scars
By Nadja Lee          23/03/02

English is not my native language. Please forgive me my mistakes.

Disclaimer: “X-men” and all the characters here belong to Marvel, 20 Century Fox
and I intend no infringement, this is a piece of amateur fan fiction, and I make
no money of it.

Only the original idea contained within this work is the property of the author.
Please do not copy this story to any website or archive without permission of
the author.

Timeline: Set in the movie universe/AU. After the movie.

Universe: Set in the movie universe/AU.

Romance: Logan/Rogue, Kitty/Magneto, Sabretooth/Blink

Summary: Magneto and Logan searches for Scott but is it too late to save him?

Archiving: Want, ASK, take,  have.

Feedback: Yes, please. My e-mail address is nadjalee2000@...

Rating: R.

Warning: Mention of torture

Sequel/series: Sequel to “Wounds”. Follows immediately after it. You need to
read “Wounds” in order to understand this. You can do so here:
http://www.fanfiction.net/read.php?storyid=737067

Dedicated to Jen, Karen, Joanne, Autumn, Susan and Sorcieré (always, lov) with
thanks and love.

Note: Victor is Sabretooth’s real name.

Thanks to Estelle for the Beta



*                                                    *
*



“I hate these things,” Logan bummed as Blink concentrated and a portal opened
behind the group.

“Get us inside the jail,” Magneto ordered and the young girl took her hands to
her head and grimaced in concentration. Concerned Sabretooth went to her and
embraced her, holding her up. Often creating portals was so exhausting for her
that she would pass out and Sabretooth always made sure he was there to catch
her. If Logan was protective of his wife Sabretooth was 100 fold as bad.

“I…..will……..try,” Blink got out, sweat covering her brow. Magneto levitated the
entire group and they began to disappear through the portal.

“Careful, Clarice,” Sabretooth whispered in her ear as they too went through the
portal. Sabretooth only used her given name when they were in private or when he
was concerned for her.

The journey itself through the portal was indescribable. It was just like a
blink, one minute one place and another the next. Magneto had been the first to
enter the portal and so was first to come through. He quickly scanned the area
for possible threats and was relieved to see they had landed in a seemly
deserted hallway of the jail. As the others began to come through Magneto
released his hold on them and as they landed on the floor they took up battle
positions around Magneto, protecting him. Last came Logan, Sabretooth and Blink.
As soon as Blink was through the portal disappeared and Blink fell into Victor’s
arms and he lifted her up, holding her tight.

“Is she out of it?” Logan asked as he sniffed the air. It stank of death, burnt
meat, sweat, vomit and blood. He could see from Victor’s frowning that the
stanch disturbed him too.

“She’ll be alright in a minute,” Victor assured, automatically being on the
defence, snarling at the soldiers who were close to him in fear they’ll take
Blink from him.

“Sabretooth, stay here and hold this position for us. Have Blink ready to get us
out in max. ten minutes. Logan, you’re with me,” Magneto ordered and began to
walk straight ahead towards a corner of the long darkened hallway.

“Mags, it’ll be this way,” Logan pointed towards the other way and the soldiers
smiled as Magneto walked back past them and after Logan.

“You sure? You can smell him?” Magneto asked concerned as they walked through
the hallway, turning a corner.

“There are too many smells here but I know he wasn’t the other way,” Logan
confirmed.

“Why?”
”Because you were heading towards the kitchen. I smelled chicken,” Logan grinned
and Magneto gave a rare half smile.

“We…..” Magneto began but Logan reached up a hand, gesturing him to be quiet.

“I hear something. Someone is coming,” Logan warned and drew his claws.

“How many?” Magneto levitated a few meters from the cold stone floor to be ready
for battle and to scare their coming ‘friends’.

“Around ten,” Logan said as he had sniffed the air again. They reached a new
corner and hid in the shadows, waiting for their ‘guests’ to come closer.

“Maybe we should give them a chance to surrender?” Magneto suggested dryly in
that tone of voice that made people unsure if he was joking or not. He was just
arrogant enough to actually mean it. Only Kitty was able to bring him down on
the ground when he got one of his fits. When Logan had first heard that Scott
wanted to join with Magneto he had been against it to say the least. In fact he
had almost killed Scott in a fit of rage to even suggest the man who had tried
to kill Rogue was invited into their midst. But as the war grew and he had
gotten to know Magneto better he had seen that he wasn’t an evil man, just a man
haunted by a past he couldn’t let go and that was something Logan knew all
about. However that hadn’t meant he had liked it when Scott had told about the
planned marriage between Kitty and Magneto. Scott had seen the political
advantages and had said he was sure Magneto would take good care of Kitty but
Logan had had his doubts so he had sought Magneto out and asked him about Kitty.
Though Magneto didn’t tell of his feelings he had let him know that he found
Kitty interesting and beautiful. They had apparently talked together, their
shared religion, both being Jewish, had also strengthened their bond as at that
time they had been the only Jewish people in the still newborn rebellion. Logan
had feared Magneto would destroy Kitty, change her and turn her into something
she was not. But as time passed Logan had seen Kitty remain the same; sweet,
pure, innocent and compassionate while it was Magneto who changed; there was
nothing he wouldn’t do for his wife or his children and even in his darkest
hours Magneto would never harm her and he would always listen to her. He doubted
the rebellion would have worked as well as it did if Kitty hadn’t been there to
create a balance and strong alliance between the two old groups; the X-men and
the Brotherhood.

“Now,” Logan yelled as the guards turned their corner and interrupted his
thoughts.

“As quietly as possible,” Magneto urged as he lifted six men up from the ground
and threw them into the wall, breaking their necks. Logan put his claws through
one guard and let him fall dead to the floor. Magneto lifted four other guards
up into the air with a wake of one hand and stopped the rain of bullets from
their guns with the other. Again he threw the guards against the wall, killing
them instantly. Logan had the last guard cornered, two claws on either side of
his head as he held him against the wall.

“Don’t kill him yet. Maybe he knows where Scott is,” Magneto ordered, coming to
stand beside Logan. “We’re searching for a man, a mutant, who can emit beams of
energy from his eyes. Tall, brown hair, muscular, battle trained. Has lost one
eye and a hand. He has the rebels symbol tattooed on his right shoulder,”
Magneto described Scott for the frightened guard. The man shook his head, no
words escaping his lips.

“So, do you know him?” Logan grumped at the guard, pure hate in his eyes. When
he had first came to the Mansion he hadn’t respected Scott at all, he hadn’t
known what kind of man he was. During the war he had seen Scott grow with his
responsibility. No matter how tough a decision, like when he had been forced to
give the order to cut Jean’s life-support system when it became apparent she
couldn’t be saved…he never backed down and always took full responsibility for
his actions. He wasn’t afraid to give an order he knew would kill ten if he were
sure it would save a hundred. Scott gave him and Sabretooth the toughest two men
missions, knowing they with their healing factors could fight longer and
withstand torture longer than any other soldier he had. It had been on one of
those missions Sabretooth had found and rescued Blink.

The bond he shared now with Scott wasn’t one of superior to soldier because he
hadn’t and probably never would be able to take orders like that but he did what
Scott said because he found his orders sound. They had grown closer than family
as only brothers in arms can.

“I…. tell you nothing,” the frightened guard got out through trembling lips, his
eyes flagging.

“I’m a mutant, y’know…. one of those dangerous insane guys you try to kill,”
Logan stated, his third claw breaking skin and touching the guard’s throat.

“I would tell him. He’s quite insane,” Magneto told him.

“If I tell…….you’ll let me live?” the guard asked, sweat running down his face.

“Of course,” Magneto promised. The guard looked from Magneto to Logan, town torn
between duty and fear for his life. In the end his choice wasn’t a hard one.

“In room 234…….there’s a mutie there,” he finally said.

“Good,” Magneto nodded in satisfaction. The guard drew a relieved breath. Logan
smiled a dangerous smile.

“Thanks, bub,” as he said it his claw drew blood on his throat.

“But...you promised!” the guard yelled frightened. Magneto turned his back on
him but then turned back.

“Stop,” he ordered and Logan reluctantly drew his third claw a little back. The
guard looked happy and relieved again.

“I knew you wouldn’t do this,” he kept mumbling.

“Room 234 is down the way you came from, right?” Magneto asked and the guard
nodded.

“Yes, yes.”

“Good. Now, you can kill him,” Magneto turned his back on them, ignoring the
guard’s yells and pleas and waited for Logan to catch up with him.

“He won’t tell anyone we were here,” Logan said as he walked besides Magneto,
his claws bloody as they withdrew into his skin.

The hallway was empty as they passed several rooms, counting down to the one
they were after. As they were just a few doors from the right number Magneto
could hear noises, loud cracks and faint whimpers. He wasn’t sure which room
they came from but he wasn’t a dreamer; Scott couldn’t have been here for so
many days and still be unharmed.

“Logan, if he…….if he……,” he couldn’t bring himself to say it, let alone ask
what was on his mind.
”If we can’t take him back with us……I’ll see to it he won’t live through anymore
of this nightmare,” Logan promised darkly, his claws popping out again. It
wasn’t a promise he made lightly but he would rather Scott died quickly and by a
friend’s hand than after days, weeks, maybe even months of torture. Magneto
nodded his thanks and they reached the room. Taking a deep breath Magneto turned
the handle and opened the door. The stench in the room was so high that even
without enhanced smell Magneto was almost blown away by it. It smelled of blood,
fear, sweat, vomit, urine and a truly sick stench of burned human flesh. It
wasn’t a cell they had entered but an interrogation room. There was nothing in
the room save metal walls, a chair and chains from the ceiling. And in those
chains……….God, dear God…..no.

“Good God,” Magneto whispered horrified at the sight that meant him. From the
chains hung a man. He was naked save some bloody, dirty and torn boxers. The man
was facing the other way so he got a full view of his back. It was one big
bloody mess, crosswired with scars and angry red welts. Layer upon layer of
wounds, some several days old and already beginning to colour, some fresh and
still bleeding. Marks from beatings but most noticeable were the scars from
several whippings.

“Fuckin’ bastards!” Logan spat as he saw the man hanging in the room. Sabretooth
and him had both been captured several times but had always managed to escape
within few days. Their torture had been intense but had never left them with any
scars; their healing factor always prevented that. This was…….words failed him,
there was only this strange feeling in his chest, a need to do something.

“Looooo,” the man moaned, the sound was weak, hard to understand and muffled.
Please, don’t let this be Scott, Magneto prayed as he slowly walked around the
bruised and beaten form to see the man’s face. The marks after beatings
continued on the man’s chest where burn marks joined the marks after beatings
and whippings. The man’s head was bent; he didn’t have enough strength to lift
it. Forcing his hand to be steady Magneto lifted the man’s head up……and looked
into a stranger’s familiar face.

“Scott!” it was a name, a whisper, a curse and a prayer. His face was almost
unrecognisable. There was a long scar running down his face, probably from a
knife, there were clear signs from a beating and his eyes were forced shut from
the beatings and dried blood. At the beginning of his capture they had to have
kept him blindfolded but now, after several days without the light of the sun or
stars that provided Scott with the energy to his eye blasts they had found it
was no longer necessary.

“Maaaagnnn,” there were a faint sound coming from Scott’s mouth and a small
smile which quickly turned into a grimace of pain, went over his face. As he
spoke blood ran out of his mouth and Magneto feared he had severe internal
damage.

“Cut him loose for pity’s sake,” Magneto ordered, his voice threatening to break
down. He had seen torture before; he had felt it before, even before this war.
During WW2 he had seen it but humans cruelty never ceased to disgust and amaze
him.

“Hold him,” Logan ordered as he popped his claws and cut the chains that forced
Scott’s hands together above his head. Magneto caught him as Scott fell towards
the floor and though he tried to be gentle Scott still moaned in pain as he
touched him.

“We have to get him back and fast,” Magneto urged as he tried to hold as softly
around Scott as possible but everywhere he held would hurt him. Every spot on
his body had been abused. Seeing Scott lying there, all but naked in Magneto’s
arms broke something inside Logan. He had never seen Scott this valuable before.
So undignified. Like Magneto, Scott needed his dignity and those bastards had
taken it from him, humiliated him, maybe raped him…and gods knew what else they
had done to him.

“I’ll take him,” Logan said softly and bent down and lifted Scott up into his
arms. As he carried him in his arms he was reminded of just how young Scott was.
A man now and no longer a boy but still a young man who should be out looking
for his one true love, not laying all but dead in his arms, having already lost
the woman he loved years ago.

“I’ll give you cover,” Magneto promised, rage replacing his sorrow and anger as
they moved out of the room Scott had been in and towards the others.

“Give him your cape,” Logan asked as they were to turn a corner, almost back
where they had started. He didn’t want the others to see Scott like this; so
valuable, so broken. He had suffered enough, he didn’t need that.

“Here,” Magneto said softly and covered Scott’s weak, broken and bruised form
with his big cape.

“Aaaa……..nnnnn…..te...lllllllll,“ Scott whispered pained and Magneto forced a
half-smile, stroking his cheek ever so softly but even that kind gesture made
him flinch.

“I know you didn’t tell them anything,” he reassured him and Scott seemed to
find peace in that for his eyes closed and he became limp in Logan’s arms.
”Scott! Scott!” Magneto said panicked. “Is he alright?”

Logan listened to the heartbeats around him and relieved found two besides his
own though one was very weak.

“He’s alive,” Logan reassured and Magneto drew a relieved breath. Thank God.
They turned the last corner and saw Blink on her feet, Sabretooth standing
protectively in front of her.

“You’re back. Good. We’ve had some minor run-ins with guards coming from the
kitchen,” Victor explained and nodded towards some bodies lying in front of
them.

“Any dead on our side?” Magneto asked and tried to ignore the horrified look on
everyone’s faces as they saw Scott.

“My God,” Bobby took a hand up and covered his month. He shouldn’t have let
Scott divide the team, he should have stayed, he should have…….

“It wasn’t your fault,” Magneto said, putting a calming hand on Bobby’s
shoulder. “They did this. Blame them instead.”
A look of pure hate filled Bobby’s eyes.
”Oh, I will. And believe me; they’ll pay.”
”None dead but five wounded,” Victor answered Magneto’s question.

“Good. Blink, create a portal as close to the medical barracks in the base as
possible. Scott needs medical attention badly,” Magneto demanded and Blink
nodded and concentrated. A portal was created behind her. The drain on her
powers made her almost fall but Victor was there to hold her.

“Through the portal. Logan, get Scott to sickbay as soon as we arrive,” Magneto
demanded and levitated Logan and let him fly through the portal with his
precious burden first. Then Magneto levitated the soldiers, Bobby and lastly
Victor and Blink before he went through the portal as the last one.

Sometimes their rescue missions were a success with few sacrifices and other
times an entire rescue party was killed. Though they relied on Intelligence
reports it was mostly a matter of luck. As Magneto thought about the agony Scott
was in now and the Hell he had been through he wasn’t sure if trying to save him
was the most humane thing to do. Maybe it was better to finally grant him peace.

When he was through the portal he saw Logan already at sickbay with Scott in his
arms, Rogue, her medical staff and Ororo all over him.

“Erik!” Kitty yelled and threw herself into his embrace and held him close. The
portal closed behind Magneto and Blink passed out in Victor’s arms. He carried
her to their barrack to tend to her.

“It’s alright now,” Erik smoothed as he heard her faint crying against his
shoulder.

“Will he…….will he live?” she asked brokenly, tears running down her face as she
drew back to look at him. His heart was breaking at seeing her this sad and
knowing what the cause was….it was killing him too to see a friend in such
agony.

“If anyone can save him…….it’s Rogue and Ororo,” Magneto said softly and gently
wiped her tears away.

“What will we do if he…….” She couldn’t bring herself to say it.

“We’ll do as we always do…..stand and fight,” Magneto said grimly. Then he
forced a smile for her and kissed the top of her head. “But he’s strong, he’ll
pull through.”

“He’ll pull through.”



Please…………live, Scott. For us…….live.

Please…………





             The End ………………or to be continued? Up to you

Hello everyone!
Here is the promised challenge. I also promised the first chapter and a polish
on the rough second chapter I posted earlier. Unfortunately, RL intruded, and I
doubt I'll be able to get to it tonight. I'll post them ASAP. In the mean time,
start thinking about what you want to do, then send me your idea so I can beg
some others to fill in the holes. Thanks to Amy Lou and Michele E. A big thanks
to X-tricks for the ideas. Please forward this to other relevant X-Men groups.
Best, Tarch

The Dark Legend Challenge Series:

* We seek to build a loose collection of stories resulting from a series of
challenges.
* Authors can write the parts they select and think are interesting.
* Authors are encouraged to write their own series of stories, or pair up with
someone and alternate
           (possibly providing a built in beta).
* Authors are encouraged to be creative and add whatever characters or plot
elements they like.
* Authors can communicate and decide to overlap, if they wish (resulting in
different beginnings and
           endings, but the same middle pieces).
* Participants must agree to allow a copy of their challenge piece to be
archived with the others at a site undetermined at this
           moment. It will probably mine (Tarchannon) when I set it up in a month
or so.

We’re shooting for a kind of gothic mood – dark, rich, overtones of sex, blood,
and discipline. I think that rich imagery and texture – opulence with a hint of
decadence – should prevail. Think the flavor of Anne Rice’s vampire novels, with
a dash of film noir. It’s OK to have an edge of soap and melodrama.

Here are the Challenges (which may be combined):

      1. Establish the underpinnings of the Dark Legend AU as you imagine it (set
up your parameters for the
           characters, deal with recent losses of life, set your tone) based on
my two short intro chapters.
      2. Write a Dark Legend pairing: J/S/L with Jean as the dom and Scott and
Logan the subs. Jean indulges
            her fascination with Logan, and indulges Scott’s fascination when he
is worthy. Telepathic coercion
            is likely, but not essential.
      3. Write a Dark Legend pairing: Charles/Ororo. Explore Charles’
strengthened powers and power trip,
            as well as Ororo’s slide into self-perceived goddesshood.
      3. Remy is introduced to the AU (with delicious naughty overtones)
      4. Write a Dark Legend pairing: Remy/Logan pairing (first time, Remy bossy
bottom, coupling made
            semi-public to provide a cover for their secret mission)
      5. Write a Dark Legend pairing: Kurt/other mutant. Can substitute other
characters that know something
            is wrong (Hank, Sinister, etc.)
      6. News of human-killing Legend in US - chaos erupts – character reactions
(fear, violence, h/c, sex)
      7. Hank's breakthrough (and maybe sexy celebration?)
      8. Struggle to cure the X-men (Charles, Ororo, and/or Jean could be a
problem.)
      9. Recovery and decisions about the new pairings (particularly, Remy/Logan
(romance), C/O, S/J
            (post_Logan liaisons), Kurt/?, other/other) Lots of angst and drama
potential here.
      10. Teaser for potential next challenge (set up for stories that you wish
to continue)

Ficcers that aren’t slashers can explore:
      1. Charles/Ororo
2. Scott/Jean (post-cure)
3. Kurt/other (if female)
4. Any het couple before the Legend Virus attack

Ficcers that don’t write sexy bits can explore:
1. The Remy/ Sinister connection and why he is helping Hank.
2. The origin of the Legend Virus and who is behind the attack.
3. The movieverse Legacy plot that results in young Piotr dying
4. The effects of the deaths on the AU characters.

Poets
      Can explore any topics, can provide atmosphere, can join with other
authors.

In a complete storyline, I'm assuming that we'd want at least one C/O, two S/L/J
before cure (maybe S/J/L then J/S/L), a S/J after cure, several Remy/Logan (a
hurried excuse screw through hot romance), and a moral/sexual torment of Kurt by
one of the other guys would be fantastic! (Maybe Bobby or Sam, or could be one
of the other X-Men Charles recruits. Should he give in, or should he resist? Oy,
the dilemma!)

The Challenges are suggestions – feel free to take this wherever your creativity
takes you!!!!

The Cast (and the changes):
                 This information should be used, but may not be complete
information. Be inventive.
Our beloved X-Men:
Charles Xavier – expanded mental strength and range. Appearance is more
sinister, more grim, bald head is ridged *slightly* into two hemispheres like
the brain. Developed lesser power telekinesis, no empathy. He can move himself
around mentally if need be. This Charles is fully functional (if you catch my
(sexual) drift). Charles has become increasingly intense, war-like and exhibits
signs of megalomania.
Ororo Munroe – powers intensified, using the description from comics. Her
ability to sense and manipulate distant energy sources has intensified, leaving
her frighteningly powerful and nearly goddess-like. She is aloof, distracted,
and prone to fits of sudden, intense anger. She has emotionally distanced
herself from her other teammates. She has become attached to Charles in a sexual
way. Her skin has become dusky with a deep blue undertone, and her eyes are now
always solid white.
Scott Summers – slightly thinner, wider in shoulders, skin now a golden olive.
Eyes blue, with red fire evident through pupils. Now has ‘on/off’ control of
optical blasts, but still uses a visor during combat because he lacks fine
control. Beams even more powerful, discovering he can produce laser in addition
to, and separate from, the force beams. His headaches are stronger, but less
frequent. Scott is having quite a bit of sleeplessness and bouts of anger. He’s
gone over the edge into the military leader thing – high levels of discipline
expected of the team (total dom). Becomes total sub in the bedroom. Jean
indulges their mutual sexual fascination with Logan.
Jean Grey – possibly affected the most, her power has expanded to rival Charles’
telepathic abilities, and her telekinetic ability was also enhanced. Her green
eyes often appear vacant, pupils fixed, and her mind is working on more than one
level. The virus has seriously degraded her inhibitions, and she had become very
independent, highly sexual, and considerably less scrupulous if pressed. Very
dominatrix in dress and attitude. She has taken Logan to her bed, often with
Scott if he has pleased her. Will use her telekinetic abilities in the bedroom.
Logan – infected, but only affected to a low level. It weakens his control, so
he can be pushed feral more easily with lust, pain, or hate. Again, with the
slight weakening of inhibitions, he indulges in his vices more than he normally
would. More emotional and mercurial than usual.
Hank – immune, but pretending that he was affected (probably covers his lack of
physical change with some mumbo jumbo about already changing twice). Acting like
Dark Beast, grumpy, rude, gruff, defensive, more physical in a threatening way.
Spends time trying to develop a method to kill the virus and return his friends
to their right minds. Discovers that Logan is only affected to a lesser degree,
and enlists his help at disguising his efforts (of which Charles would violently
disapprove, since he believes that removing the virus would limit his powers).
Makes a deal with the devil (Sinister) for help when things look hopeless.
Kurt – most recent X-Man, is perhaps only half affected as the rest, struggles
with his impulses, and used his abilities to help Hank since he can sneak out
easily. Has Jeckyl and Hyde moments, maybe with religious overtones.
Remy – immune, but abilities enhanced a bit with an implant, acting as an agent
of Sinister, he initially scopes out the Mansion and discovers the surprising
number of survivors. Sinister send him in, joins the Xavier team, and he finds
out about Hank and his research. Sinister offers to assist, but it must be done
very covertly with Jean and Charles around. Remy had great shields, and Logan
does as well. Remy and Logan run interference with the others to protect Hank,
covering their partnership with a sexual liaison, that later becomes more. Remy
is pretty much here, and will take the role of the bossy bottom. Maybe some
Jean/Remy conflict here, and some Scott/Remy jealousy?
Bobby, John, Jubilee, any of the others that are hinted at in the school scenes
of the movie – love to see them – have at it. But please use only adults (18 or
older) if you want to get sexy. We’ll set this 3-4 years after the movie events,
so all of the older kids will be adults and junior X-Men.
Others – you can bring in other characters if you wish. Emma, Sean, or Chamber
would be fun.

Our newly departed:
      Warren Worthington III (Angel)
      Marie D’Ancanto (Rogue)
      Katherine Pryde (Shadowcat)
      Also, a couple of the other unnamed kids.

Previously departed:
     Piotr (Peter) Rasputin (this does have a Legacy base plot)

Other featured mutants:
      Sinister – arch-nemesis turned temporarily to the good side. You can play
with this – maybe he is
            infected, maybe not. Maybe he can slow the progression. In any case,
he needs Hank as the world
            foremost expert on the Legacy virus to help formulate a cure to save
his precious research
            specimens. Besides, if the US goes down, it will slow his precious
research. He sends Remy as a
            spy, and agent, and as a lab rat, since he is immune.

Timing
      About four months after the initial attack – everyone that didn’t die has
recovered, funerals are over.
      Starts 3-4 years after the events of the movieverse.
      Flashbacks are allowed!

Sex
      I mentioned J/S/L, C/O, and Remy/Logan. Feel free to add trysts (these
people are uninhibited), other
           pairings (adults only, please).
      Have fun, costumes, leather, vinyl, kink of all types of fair game. Things
will be tense, so our guys will
           want to blow off steam.
      Challenge pairs are S/L/J, Remy/Logan (faking through getting more
serious), C/O, and Kurt/?.
           Others as your imagination strikes.

Plot
I started with a establishing scene, followed by a little technical exposition.
Other people will follow with their pieces. I will endeavor to either get them
to work connecting bits into their story, or write the bits myself.

Timeline
      Movie events (3-4 years before Dark Legend intro)
      The Legacy Virus story (somewhat like the comics, but less complex)
      The Legend Virus attack
      Survival, burials, and grief (4 months previous to intro)
      Intro.

Plot milestones
      Intro
      Initial parings and atmosphere established (J/S/L, C/O sex)
      Remy appears
      Remy/Logan pairing
      Kurt angst
      News of human-killing Legend in US – chaos erupts
      Hank’s breakthrough
      Struggle to cure the X-men
      Recovery and decisions about the new pairings.
      Teaser for potential next challenge.

Plot Bunnies

The death of Marie sends Logan into a emotional tailspin, making him susceptible
to the effects of the virus and making him a mostly willing participant in the
L/S/J pairing. Remy brings him out of it.

Jean’s venture into dominatrixland shocks and dismays her after her recovery.
She has trouble putting herself back together, and her relationship with Scott
becomes precarious.

Hank uses Sinister’s help to discover a cure. Sinister is infected, but has used
his technology to slow the progress. Now that a cure is in hand, does Hank allow
Essex to be saved?

In exchange for the cure, Hank demands a payment from Sinister - clones of
Warren, Kitty, and Rogue.



[Non-text portions of this message have been removed]

REPOST - Chapter 2 of Dark Legend Challenge - This is an open challenge - feel
free to join.

**********
I had this idea and I wondered if anyone would think this would be interesting
side-AU to contrast with my current projects. My little sci-fi brain just wiggs
out sometimes, so I thought I'd ask.

Here is an intro:

   Hank worked feverishly down in the lab, far from prying eyes. A well practiced
scowl had almost become a permanent feature.

   /Damn! Damn! Damn!/ His latest attempt to replicate his accident had failed.

   He wanted to scream. It had been four months since the attack on the Mansion,
four months since the Dark Plague has started.  The worst four months of his
life, and the worst part was, none of the others even realized what had
happened.

   They had added introduced the Legend Virus, a modified Legacy virus, to the
school by using a purified powder carrier brought in by a pair of agents
disguised as concerned parents of a prospective student. It had spread quickly,
infecting everyone in the school in a matter of hours. Unfortunately, a number
of people were infected and had left the grounds at the end of the school day,
carrying the plague to Salem Center and New York City before exhibiting
symptoms. The virus had spread quickly from there, vectoring by touch and by
aerosol throughout the mutant population, crossing the country and the world in
a matter of day and weeks. It was in China that the first evidence of poor
genetic engineering was revealed nearly a month after initial exposure. Like the
Legacy Virus before it, the Legend Virus began to infect humans. Apparently, the
construction was so faulty, more than one instance of the conversion came about,
and quickly the people of the world started dying.

   The virus was about 75% lethal in mutants with out previous Legacy
immunization, which seemed to provide some additional protection in many, but
not all, mutants. The new strain that affected humans was about 60% lethal, but
prior immunization seemed to have no effect.

   The world was dying, except many of the X-Men, who had received additional
boosters with several of Hank’s second generation vaccines that had been
produced, but not distributed to the outside world. The trouble was, the new
vaccine was only partially effective, and the infection of the X-Men had
produced effects that might be considered worse than death.

    The infection triggered a bout of severe illness, during which a second
emergence occurred, much like the lab accident had changed Hank from nearly
human to a blue, leonine mutant of significantly more power. Worse yet, the
people that survived emerged strangely twisted from the presence of the virus.
Darker, more intense, exaggerated in a typically bad way. All of the X-Men were
almost a dark parody of their former selves.

   All of the X-Men, all but Hank, who had surmised that something about his
accident had protected him, since he could find no genetic reason for his
immunity. So he played along with the others, assuming a deep scowl and a
hostile, aggressive demeanor to disguise the fact that he was working feverishly
to replicate the conditions of his accident so that he could determine the
elements that were lethal to the virus. If he could treat his fellow X-Men, he
might have the resources to help the others that were suffering.

   But for now, all the survivors were all trapped at the school, virtual
prisoners of the dark-evolved megalomaniac Xavier, his lover the nearly
elemental Ororo, and his right hand psion Redstar, who acted with draconian
authority through her collared pet slaves, Scott and Logan.

   Hank had had some assistance from Logan, who seemed to be the least affected
by the virus after himself, and from Kurt, who struggled valiantly with the
effects. Hank had been trying unsuccessfully to inactive the virus for four
months now, and he was beginning to lose hope.

I was thinking Scott/Logan/Jean, Xavier/Ororo, Logan/Remy pairings, plus others.
Very 'Dark Shadows' with costumes and kink. Very different from the other stuff
I have been doing.

What do you think?

Best,

Tarch

[Non-text portions of this message have been removed]

Disclaimer: They belong not to me, but to Marvel and Fox. I only have them
on access weekends ... or, more probably, not.

Author's Notes: Slash angst-n-fluff written in the middle of constructing a
far more complicated story. PG-rated. According to my time line, this is set
the year before the events of the movie. (Long accustomed to the parallel
timeline of comics, unlike many authors of x-movie fanfic I assume that what
we saw occurred in the year 2000.) I listened to my illegally copied October
Project CD far too often during the conception of this story, especially
'Something More Than This' which may or may not show.

Golden

By Andraste

The hours weigh heavy on Xavier tonight, but the years seem as ephemeral as
a half-remembered dream.  Listening to the clock measure the seconds until
dawn, he can almost believe that the past five decades never happened
outside his mind.  They might have been a vivid adolescent fantasy, which he
will wake from to find himself still aged seventeen.  Except for the
wheelchair by the bed, and the numbness that starts below his waist, and the
ache in his fingers, cold where they rest on the sheets ... not so
ephemeral, then.

Still, he wonders if parts of it were things he imagined, or invented on
nights like this to keep himself warm.  Erik always has such a remarkable
physical and psychic presence that he seems inevitable when he's here,
impossible when he's gone.  After the many cycles of reunion and separation,
once he packs his suitcase nothing remains but imperfect memory.  Even so,
Charles only takes up one side of the bed.

He counts the minutes until morning, when he can stop brooding.  He counts
the years stretching out behind him.  Both intervals seem unreasonably long.
The feeling eating away at him now started when he was so young that he
couldn't see past next week, let alone envision a time when he would be old
and lonely.  He hadn't thought that he would still be in love at the age of
sixty-seven.  Or, to be entirely honest, that he would ever be sixty-seven
at all - his own age seems as improbable as one of Henry's imaginary
numbers.  He'd certainly never anticipated being a sixty-seven-year-old man
who wants to have sex with another sixty-seven-year-old man.

Yesterday, when he was providing Kleenex and sympathy to an abandoned Kitty
Pryde, she'd told him the way he was so secure about not having a wife or a
girlfriend - or, as she delicately put it, 'whatever' - was, quote unquote,
cool.  He'd had to hide a moment of surprise. Was that what everyone
thought?

Even twenty years ago, he had envisioned himself at this stage of his life
as the man others believe him to be now: wise, ancient, calm and
unthreateningly asexual. He's learned, however, that he still inhabits his
body, old and damaged though it may be.  He wants Erik with a visceral
impulse that none of his young students' cruder means of reporting desire
seem adequate to describe.  The English language is well-supplied with
adjectives, but he cannot find the correct noun.

He wants someone beside him in the bed, relieving the tedium of his
perpetual insomnia with the sounds of a sleeping human - and Erik, sleeping,
is just a human, no matter what he might believe awake.  He wants to wake in
the morning to the sound of the shower.  Spend the day (which is now Sunday,
he recalls) eating breakfast, arguing over the newspaper, collaborating on
the crossword, reading, talking.  To feel the kiss pressed to his forehead,
or the inside of his wrist, the hand brushing the back of his neck.

The house, filled with children he considers his own, is far too quiet.

The first sharp sound from the phone would make him jump, if his legs could
obey the impulses of his brain.  He glances at the clock he has been
listening to for hours - half past three.

Of course it could be anyone. Obviously it isn't.

An adolescent dilemma: is it him? How long do I let it ring if it is, so
that he won't know I've been waiting for the phone call?  What if somebody
else answers first?

That makes him stir out of his new and more comprehensive paralysis, and he
picks up the receiver.  "Hello?"  It rang three times.  This, he is sure,
means he is no longer numbered among the cool.

The way one small part of him is unequivocally delighted that Erik
remembered after all separates him from those select ranks, too. He's a
fool. It isn't as if his beloved has turned up at the door with an apology,
a bunch of roses and a box of chocolates.

There is no sound on the other end.  "If this is a crank call," he says with
a trace of amusement, "you might at least make the effort to breathe
heavily."

"Hello," says Erik, ignoring the attempted light-heartedness. The voice
still makes his blood tingle.

Like many men, Charles finds the telephone an awkward medium for social
interaction - his instinct is to convey or receive information and hang up.
His reasons, however, are less common. The distance removes all his
advantages in reading minds and body language, flattens tones and conceals
facial expressions. There are too many unknown variables in this
conversation.

"Happy anniversary, Erik," he says. It's not much of an opening gambit.

"I hope you weren't expecting flowers." A reminder that Erik can read *his*
mind, too.  "I thought under the circumstances a telephone call would be
more than sufficient."  His speech is overly careful, and the accent beneath
the one Xavier gave him (a strange sexually transmitted disease, and one
that used to make them both laugh) is showing.

"Technically speaking, you're late.  It's after three in the morning the
next day here."

"Really." Non-committal, not so easily caught revealing what time zone he's
in.  The game is never that easy.  "My apologies."  The sarcasm stings more
than it should.

Tonight, this seems even more difficult than usual - or perhaps he is simply
old and tired.  There are rules for conversations like this, which means
that neither of them may ask directly about what the other is doing in the
waking world.  He tries to keep Magneto, anti-human terrorist, and Erik, his
ex-lover, separate in his head. He always fails.  "Erik, in case you've
forgotten, you called *me*. Was there a reason?"

"I ..." he hesitates.  From Erik, this is rare.

"Are you alright?" He hadn't meant to let himself ask that.  "Where are
you?" Oh, brilliant strategy, Charles.  No real life villain is silly enough
to reveal his secret location to the hero just because he's had one too many
and is feeling maudlin.

"Far away from you."  Well, obviously. Is that a twinge of regret, though?
Is he being metaphorical?  But no. Erik is not a romantic.

Then he realises: of course Erik didn't call because he had something to
say.  He called because he realised what day it was and knew that Charles
would remember.  Knows that he cares about such things. Still cares enough
to make a slightly inebriated attempt to correct an error he doesn't
understand.  He thinks that Charles keeps dates in his head because *he's* a
romantic.

Let him continue to believe that - with Erik, he has always taken whatever
leverage he can get.

Knowing the answer, he asks the question again.  "Why did you call me?"

A sound that might be a sigh. "Charles, what do you want me to say?"

He almost asks Erik to describe what he's wearing, and stifles a smile.
Spending too much time around hormonal teenagers leaves your mind firmly in
the gutter. Erik, however, would not appreciate the joke.  He reaches for
honesty instead.

Charles remembers the anniversary of the day they met because every day of
the fifty years he has known Erik Lensherr is another day he has been hurt
by him, one way or another.  He needs to keep count so that he can stand to
be away from the source of the pain.  He needs these moments of contact to
remind him that the pain is not merely political, but personal.

When he fell in love, it was as if he put a knife into the other man's hand
and invited him to use it.  Even on their best days, Erik has never failed
to accept the invitation.

"I want to see you." Often, it's hard to be a telepath - to always know more
about other people than they know about you. The foundation of his respect
for Erik is that it's never the tactical advantage it should be with him. "I
want you to be here, apologising for forgetting yesterday with a bottle of
champagne."

They both know that it's a wistful lie.  If Magneto ever does set foot
within the gates again, Xavier is fairly certain that he can do enough
damage to prevent his enemy ever coming back.

"Would you like me to grovel, as well?" Actually, no.  He wants the
extremely careful absence of grovelling that happens when Erik is genuinely
sorry for something. "If you want me back, Charles, you know what will bring
me to your side."

The blow is expected, but it still wounds. Because, in truth, he doesn't
know how to make it right between them. After all this time, agreeing with
Erik is a trick he hasn't mastered.  "If you called just to taunt or
threaten me ..."

"I called to say happy anniversary. For what it's worth, I do wish you
happiness.  I never stopped wishing you that."

If he wanted Charles to be happy ... but perhaps he doesn't know a way out
of this thing between them, either.  Xavier takes the sentence, holds on to
it.  If fifty years with and without Erik have taught him anything, it's to
accept what you're given. Pain and joy together.

The click of the phone hanging up doesn't quite break the spell.

The End

*****

I may not have a quote, but I do have a home page:

http://www.users.bigpond.com/storysmith/index.html

Or, to get my stories as soon as they come out, try the Southern Stars
mailing list, for the writings of a whole variety of Australian comic
fanficcers:

http://groups.yahoo.com/group/southernstarsfic

Darker Destiny: Dreams In My Heart
By Nadja Lee                                     14/05/02
English is not my native language. Please forgive me my mistakes.
Disclaimer: “X-men” and all the characters here belong to Marvel, 20 Century Fox
and I intend no infringement, this is a piece of amateur fan fiction, and I make
no money of it.
Only the original idea contained within this work is the property of the author.
Please do not copy this story to any website or archive without permission of
the author.
Timeline: Set in the movie universe/an AU. Before the movie
Universe: Set in the movie universe; NOT the book which goes with it.
Romance: None
Summary: A young woman works, thinks and waits……
Archiving: Want, ASK, take,  have.
Feedback: Yes, please. My e-mail address is nadjalee2000@...
Rating: R
Story premise for this series: A what if story. What if there had never been any
X-men? What if Xavier had never founded the group or the school? What would have
happened to our heroes and villains then?
Warning: May contain disturbing elements. This is a VERY dark tale! You have
been warned.
Sequel/series: Part of the “Darker Destiny” series.
Thanks to Estelle for the Beta.

Have you ever wondered what it is like when everything goes in circles……..

It’s all the same. This wasn’t where I thought I’d end up when I ran away from
home; not at all. I go on the same street, work in the same restaurant; even the
costumers have begun to look alike. I feel like I’m being strangled. All the
dreams I once had, where have they gone?
I fear none of them will ever come to pass. There is nothing left here. It’s as
if time has slowed down and I can’t breathe. It’s like I’m being strangled,
slowly dying inside.
I have never been good at reaching out to people and as a result I’m alone. I
wake up, go to work and go home. That’s all. The same every day. I know I could
do more but something always holds me back. I know what I have; I don’t know
what I’ll get. It’s a risk I dare not take.
I know I’m being stupid and I hate myself for it. I should take charge, go out
there and look for Prince Charming myself. What’s the odds he’ll just walk
through the door and ask me out? One in a billion and even that it is too high.
I know this yet some dreams never die or is it some fears?
Why can’t I do it? Why can’t I tear myself loose? I keep telling myself all
kinds of excuses but none of them explains to me why I can’t break free. What is
wrong with me? The more I think about it the more I begin to hate myself for my
cowardliness. I wish I could be like those confident women, going somewhere;
anywhere. But I’m not. I’m just not and I have to live with that.
How? How do you live with that? I dream. I dream a lot. I dream myself off to
distant galaxies, distant worlds, into romance novels, off to strange countries
and into the arms of one handsome man who loves me more than life itself.
Dreams, nothing but foolish dreams yet they’re all I have. They’re all I ever
had. I’ve never had someone; ever and I begin to fear I never will. I wish I
could say there was a reason, any kind of good reason. That I had chosen it as
such…..that I was a nun. But I’m not. It’s fear that keeps me back. All I ever
wanted from life was a man who loves me and whom I can love back. But I begin to
understand that that’s too much to ask for.
I play music all the time. I hate the silence. In the silence I begin to think
and I can’t allow myself that for if I do I’ll begin to cry and may never stop.
No, I need the music to keep playing, I need the escape. In music I do not need
to think, in music I can float far away. No thoughts and no bonds. I need the
music. I need it. I have to hear it play in my mind for my own thoughts scare
me.

~Marie

Title:  Safety Dance
Author:  Kristine
Email:  xxtheroguexx@...
Rated:  NC-17 for sex....I can see the shock....'g'
Summary:  Logan convinces Marie to "do it".....basically PWP.
Disclaimer:  I don't own them....'sigh'
Feedback:  Better than se....um....Yes please:)  Love it?  Hate it?  I want to
know!  Constructive criticism welcome.
Archive:  You'd want this?
Website:  Agony & Exstasy - http://wtv-zone.com/xxtheroguexx/index.html
Notes:  Again, I should be working on the epilouge for my "No Choice" series
(and I am....honest!) but these damn bunnies keep distracting me!  I read
"Comfort Me With Apples" by Victoria P. and sent it to a friend I work with. 
Upon discussing the fic and condoms, and sex, my friend made an innocent
comment, "Wouldn't it be funny if....(snipped so not to spoil the fic:)~ )" 
Yeah, real funny....damn bunny.  Hey!  I rhymed!....lol  Anyways...the idea
stuck and wouldn't go away until I wrote it, so here it is in it's unbetaed
glory.  I just couldn't bring myself to inflict this on anyone...damn smut
bunnies.  Also, the "After-School Special" reference is from Victoria P.'s
fic....That line just stuck with me for some reason.  The title is from a song
from the 80's...Men Without Hats,  I believe.  Enough of my babbling....On with
the fic!

--------------------------

Marie looked at the little square packet that Logan had set in her open hand. 
She stared at it, all the while feeling Logan's eyes upon her, knowing he was
waiting to see what her reaction would be.  She could feel her cheeks begin to
burn as a blush spread across her face and she couldn't help but feel silly
about that.  After all, it wasn't as though they hadn't done 'things' with each
other already, Logan was now simply asking her permission to take their
relationship to the next level.

When Logan finally came back from his search for his past, three years had
slipped by and much had changed in his absence.  New students had arrived, old
students had left, Scott and Jean had finally taken the plunge and Rogue, his
Marie, had grown up.  He had been pleasantly surprised at her transformation,
even more so when his lust addled brain registered the fact that she was
touching him with bare hands.  The smile she had on her face as she proudly told
him how she gained control made his groin tighten in a way that hadn't happened
in a long time.  He knew then and there that he had to have her, that he _would_
have her.  He knew she wanted him too, he could smell the lust wafting from her
but she was fighting it, too insecure to believe that he would want her back.

It didn't take him long to dispel that delusion.

He touched her whenever the opportunity presented itself and soon she discovered
that his hands on her breasts made her feel good, the heat of his mouth on her
nipples made her shiver in pleasure.  The flick of his tongue upon her clit and
made her feel like she wanted to die, the ecstasy was so great.  With some
cajoling and a little begging, he finally convinced her to do the same for him
and the awe she felt as his body shook and moans spilled from his lips as his
cum spilled down her throat was indescribable.

They had done nearly everything a man and woman could do together short of
actually 'doing it' and she knew it was only a matter of time before he'd
convince her to do that.  At night, Marie would lie in bed, wondering what his
cock would feel like buried deep inside her and she'd bring herself to climax,
over and over again, knowing Logan was in the next room doing the same.

Marie wasn't afraid that he'd hurt her, she knew he'd rather die than do that. 
Her biggest fear was what the results of doing it would be.  She had no desire
to become a real life 'After-School Special', but it was becoming increasingly
difficult to say no.  Logan told her he'd be careful, that he'd pull out, that
they'd only do it when she was 'safe'.  Marie knew that once they started having
actual sex, he'd want to do it all the time, and for that matter, so would she. 
They were both passionate people and Marie knew better than to belive that
either one of them would be able to keep their wits about them in the heat of
the moment.

Hence the condom in her hand.

"You wanna.  Don't even try an' deny it." he whispered.  "No more excuses."

Marie looked up into heated hazel eyes that sent a shiver down her spine and she
pressed the little square packet into his hand in answer as she raised herself
up on tiptoes to press her lips against his.  Her lips parted when she felt his
tongue pressing for entrance, his hand sliding down to cup a breast. Her head
tilted back as a moan that could have been his name escaped her lips as she felt
his other hand sliding up her skirt, fingers running along dampening panties.

Logan nuzzled at her neck, nipping at her as she pulled down the zipper on his
jeans.  He groaned loudly as her small hand caressed his cock, the knowledge
that his flesh would soon be inside her, claiming her, marking her as his
overwhelming his senses and he thrust into her hand before gaining slight
control again.

Soon all barriers were removed and they stood naked in front of one another,
devouring each other with their eyes, lips, and hands.  Touching and teasing
until Logan slowly pushed her down onto her back, settling himself between her
legs.  He looked down at her as he pressed into her tightness, watching as her
eyes widened at the feel of him sliding deeper inside her, filling her. He
growled as she parted her legs wider and raised her hips upward to accept more
of him.

Marie whimpered as he thrust hard, piercing through her hymen and he stilled
letting her body adjust.  She experimentally clenched around him and he moaned
as he sank his teeth into her neck while pushing his cock into her to the hilt. 
Her breath caught when he pulled out until just the tip was inside before slowly
thrusting back in, a hand reaching between them to circle her clit.  Her moans
spurring him on faster as they hurdled together towards ecstasy.

Logan began to thrust into her ferociously, spiking into her with such force
that he drove her quivering body across the bed.  He slid his hands underneath
Marie to grab her bottom, pulling her up to meet each savage blow, snarling as
he felt her core begin to ripple, clutching at his cock, pulling him deeper
inside her.  He continued to pound into her, his thrusts becoming slower but
more sharp and savage.

Marie was out of her mind with pleasure.  She heard Logan growling, the
vibrations spreading through her body pushing her over the edge yet again.  Her
eyes fluttered open and shut and she was nipping his shoulder when she saw it.

The condom packet.

The UNOPENED condom packet.

It lay there beside them and as Marie's orgasmically raddled mind realized what
it was, she felt Logan's body tighten the way it does just before he comes. 
Just as she opened her mouth to say something, anything, he thrust hard and deep
and she could feel him begin to pulsate inside her as his seed spilled from him.
Another moan tore from her open mouth as an orgasm rocked through her, taking
her by surprise even as the cold tendrils of fear washed over her.

***********************

Marie lay panting beneath him, trying to gather her muddled brain enough to
appraise Logan of the situation.  She opened her mouth to speak again and was
interrupted by hot, moist lips upon her own.  She could feel him getting hard
again, his healing factor kicking in and she could feel her own body becoming
aroused again in response.  She tried yet again to speak but was distracted by
Logan as he raised her legs to rest upon his shoulders.  His thrusts becoming
more and more frantic and her moans becoming more incoherent as she felt as
though her entire body was going to splinter into thousands of pieces.  Again he
thrust and stilled, deeply embedded in her as release consumed him.

*************************

"Oh darlin'."  He panted, trying to catch his breath.  "Baby -- that was -- Fuck
-- that was so good.  So good."

He leaned down, showering her face with tender kisses before claiming her lips. 
Marie tangled a hand in his hair, gently breaking the kiss as she pressed the
unused condom into his hand.

"You forgot to put this on." she whispered.

When he didn't say anything in response, Marie glanced up at him, surprised to
see a grin upon his face.

"Did I?"

~End~

OK, here it is. Short and dark, the intro exposition. I'll polish chapter two a
bit, but you've got the idea. Have fun with this one guys! The challenge series
and 'rules' such as they are, were posted to the groups on Sunday. Everyone can
join, so have fun!

Dark Legend Chapter 1 (1/1)
X-Men AU – Dark Legend Universe

RATING:                PG-13
PAIRING:               None this part.
ARCHIVING:          Yes to the list archives and the challenge archive, other
folks should ask first (I haven’t
                              said ‘no’ yet).
FEEDBACK:          Yes, please! Feeding writers increases productivity!
Tarchannon@...
DISCLAIMER:        None of the characters are mine – they belong to the people
at Marvel. I’ll only use and
      abuse them a bit – probably less than my muses did!
SERIES/SEQUEL: Yes, the Dark Universe. This is the introduction to the Dark
Legend Challenge Series
SUMMARY:           A plague visits the House of Xavier bringing death and dark
changes.
NOTES:                  “_” contains spoken dialog, /_/ contains thoughts, *_*
contains mental communication
COMPLETED:        6/03/02

                              *                                              *
*
Four Months Ago – Diary of Dr. Henry McCoy

Rogue was the first to become ill, and the virus had quickly spread through the
students and staff. Strangely, I was completely unaffected, though I was exposed
thousands of times. I understood even less when Rogue was the first to die,
crimson flowing from alabaster skin, a thousand pinpricks shedding a thousand
ruby tears.

I had to watch as my friends, my family, suddenly fell to the sickness. Almost
simultaneously, they exhibited sniffling and sneezing. Later, I could do nothing
but listen to their screams and watch as their bodies warped or their powers
were twisted as they lay in their rooms.

The blood, oh, god, the blood!

I felt powerless as the others sickened and I could do nothing about it. It
acted like Legacy Virus in many ways, but also like smallpox and Ebola. It was
clear that the virus only affected mutants, as the non-mutants that were on
staff were unaffected, and stayed to help the others the best they could while
avoiding spreading the plague to their families. I was desperately afraid that
Warren had contracted the plague before returning to New York for the week. The
fact that I couldn’t call out by land or cell phone was a strong indicator that
this was a deliberate attack.

As the children died, one after the other, I thought that this was the end of
all of us. I could feel the darkness fall.

And then it happened. Most of my charges started to recover, emerging from the
blood and the pain as something new. Something darker than before.

They were transformed, and I cannot help but think that it might have been
better if they had died.

                                 *                                              *
*
Two Weeks Ago – New Orleans

“Those fools!” Nathaniel Essex thundered.

The doctor’s immense frame shook in anger as he looked at the results of the
simulation. The Legend Virus had been constructed by a real hack and had a
0.000000001% chance of changing host specificities from mutant to human. That
wasn’t a large number in real terms, but considering that somewhere between a
million and a billion viruses were generated upon every infection, the chance of
it spreading to humans was very high. It was likely that after the disease had
spread to five or ten thousand mutants, the virus would have mutated enough to
cross over and bring a plague of unimagined proportion. There were almost a
million mutants in the world.

Essex pounded his fist on the stainless steel counter, producing a bigger dent
with each contact. “What are they trying to do?”

He sagged against the examining table behind him.

The virus spread like smallpox, in the air and on surfaces. It produces a runny
nose and sneezing through the progression of the infection and the virus lives
for long periods on surfaces. The Legacy Virus had been genetically designed and
used as a mutant plague, and the Legend Virus had been hacked from it. Dr. Henry
McCoy had developed an vaccinating anti-sera to the original virus, but by only
after untold numbers of genetically valuable mutants had been killed. The new
virus had been designed to circumvent the effects of the vaccine. The Legacy
Virus had crossed into humans as well, but it had happened in rural China, and
the government had virtually completely suppressed knowledge that 6.5 million
humans had died. Not that that mattered, but the idiots had obviously not known
about the inherent instability of the virus and failed to fix the problem. In
fact, the simulation indicated that they made it worse. Ten to twelve
independent outbreaks throughout the world would decimate incredible numbers of
people and cause global breakdowns in political, social, and financial
structure.

Beyond the sheer loss of the precious mutant genes, the disruption of his work
could not be tolerated.

The problem was, these bioterrorists had started with the very place that housed
the world’s expert on how to stop it – the Xavier Academy.

Essex crossed to a small console at the end of the lab and hit the intercom
button. “Send LeBeau to me,” he commanded into the microphone, the very air
shuddering with his fury.

[Non-text portions of this message have been removed]

Title: Shadow Man

Author: DreamWeaver

Disclaimer: The characters are Marvel's except for Fawn.

Rating: NC 17

Feedback: Yes, please! (esp. if you want more stories)
mainsmel@...

Notes: Lone Wolf. This is what I'd like to see in Xmen-2. Logan's

trip to Alkali Lake doesn't pan out quite the way he hoped.





SHADOW MAN


by

DreamWeaver




Chapter 1-Nightfall

ALKALI LAKE RESEARCH FACILITY

RESTRICTED AREA

TOP SECRET

KEEP OUT

'Intruders will be swiftly prosecuted' a smaller line of print
ominously promised. Time and weather had faded the sign's fiery red
lettering into an innocuous pink and the tin plaque itself now hung
by a single corner from the chain link fence. Caught by the chill
spring breeze of late afternoon, the warning sign clacked helplessly
against the metal links like a struggling fish dangling from a hook.

Logan put the thing out of its misery with a snikt of claw and the
sign flopped face down in the dirt. He ground the heel of his boot in
Alkali Lake's 'welcome mat', burying it deeper in the damp earth, and
confronted the gates.

Professor Xavier had suggested that the military complex at Alkali
Lake might hold information about Logan's past, a blank save for the
last fifteen nightmare-haunted years. Information about who he was,
why he had claws, a metal skeleton, a numbered tag saying
Wolverine—
and why Logan himself had only the one name. Maybe it would be best
not to know a little voice said. He'd been hearing that little voice
all the way up to Canada. But now that he was finally here . . . Ah,
what the hell!

A single sweep of claws cut through the steel bar welding the gates
shut against the idle, the curious, and the 'swiftly prosecuted'
intruders like himself. That was the easy part. For although the high-
tech security barrier proved to be no challenge, nature was another
matter.

Seasons of dead leaves had thickly woven themselves into the gate's
lower links and new grass sprouted from the dirt burying its bottom
frame. But at his repeated shoves and kicks the gate grudgingly dug a
furrow in the earth, allowing barely enough passage for himself and
the motorbike before it stubbornly refused to yield any farther. He
maneuvered the bike through, scraping some paint off one fender in
the process, and stopped just inside the enclosure, his senses
quivering.

The birds had already shut down their song for the day and the heavy
silence was underscored by the shurr of wind in the nearby pines and
the faint slap, slap of wavelets on the thawing lake.

As for the complex itself, save for the lazy curl of razor wire
draped over the perimeter fence, glittering as bright and deadly in
today's cold spring sun as when it was first uncoiled years ago, the
signs of abandonment were everywhere. A half dozen low structures
that had the look of temporary buildings clustered around three
larger edifices of four floors each. All gave silent testimony of
neglect. A few windows broken by past storms, the rest of the panes
opaque with years of dirt, roofing shingles littering the ground,
formerly white walls bleeding rusty streaks, foundations crumbling
from repeated freeze and thaw, skeletons of last summer's weeds
thrusting through patches of melting snow . . . The only evidence of
life was a small tree growing through a crack in the sidewalk.

His nose registered dust, decay, mildew, and—was it his
imagination?
Although, Logan mistrusted imagination, his own above all. Was there,
or was there not, underlying the dry, itchy smell of dirt the even
drier, acrid scent of hot metal?

Impossible! He pushed the notion from his mind even as the back of
his neck prickled and the muscles between his shoulder blades jerked
tight. Nothing so far said this was the place that had given birth to
his alternate, berserker self, the clawed, adamantium-enhanced
Wolverine.

But it was the place. He could feel it in his bones. What bones were
still left him, he amended. And his brows drew down even as the
corner of his mouth lifted. He wheeled the bike farther into the
compound toward the nearest of the larger buildings, reluctant to
ride it as if the raucous noise of its motor might waken something
better left sleeping. He was getting spooked.

Scowling, he propped the machine against the far side of the building
that was his goal, making sure neither the bike nor his pack strapped
on behind could be sighted from the main gate. Though what good
concealing the motorcycle would do he was hard put to justify. The
gate itself was still open and the freshly gouged earth bore not only
his footprints but the tire tracks as well.

He knew his caution was rooted in fear and that made him angry, angry
at himself. His claws punched through the lock on the side door, the
sound of his assault still reverberating through the empty building
when he entered. Half an hour later he came out grimmer, grumpier,
angrier, but no wiser.

There was a lower level to the building and he had discovered a
tunnel leading out of it, but since he had not thought to bring a
flashlight on the trip he decided to leave the underground area for
last. He could find his way about down there without light well
enough, but any documentation he might want to read would have to be
hauled up. Possibly he would find what he was looking for in one of
the offices and have no need to explore the subterranean regions.

Leaving the bike where it was he went on to the next building. The
second edifice yielded no more information than the first—the
same
discarded metal desks, empty file cabinets, scraps of paper that
fluttered in the breeze of his passage. One find tantalized him—a
forgotten desk calendar opened to a date three weeks after he had
awakened to find himself naked in the snow some fifteen years ago.

Logan had never been sure how to react to that. Had Wolverine be a
failure? An experiment that didn't measure up and so was discarded,
abandoned in the wilderness to die? If so, why not just kill him? The
unknown had shown no compunction about torturing his body, why draw
the line at murder?

Or had he managed to escape? Was that what caused the installation to
fold? Fear that he might be alive and inform the authorities? Ironic
if true, for he remembered nothing. He crumpled the calendar page in
his fist.

Riffling through the following days and weeks only revealed blank
paper so he flipped back through the calendar to the preceding three,
four months. Nothing he saw there could he interpret as concerning
him. The person who inhabited this office had plenty of meetings
indicated by initials and times. A name, Cornilius, was scattered
frequently throughout. Curious, that. Normal meeting times scrawled
by the name: 9:30 a.m., 2:00 p.m., 3:45 p.m., but also odd times: 5
a.m., 10 p.m., 1:30 a.m. Evidence of experiments that didn't hold to
a common time schedule?

With a growl he knocked the calendar to the floor and strode out of
that building toward next and last of the three, the one closest to
the lake. If this one held no more answers than the first two—and
there was no reason to think otherwise—then what? Back to the
school?
It was a haven, sure, but he had no real business being there. He was
no doctor or teacher. His sole talent, if it could be called that,
was fighting. His intimate fifteen year acquaintance with Wolverine
had revealed no hidden depths of wisdom, philosophy, scholarship, or
even morals. He smoked, he drank, he fought, he womanized, and he
moved on down the road to do it all over again. How could this
unknown past he searched for prove any different?

Lip curled in a snarl, he stomped up the steps of the last building
and slashed through the lock, slamming the metal security door open
so hard it hit the wall. The clangor echoing throughout the structure
satisfied a little his sudden need for violence. Something physical
to strike at rather than the emptiness of his days, the phantoms of
his nights.

Yeah, he'd been used and abused, royally screwed. But the odds of
finding out who had done it after all these years were about the same
as his winning the Nobel Peace Prize. He had half an hour of
daylight, maybe less, before nightfall, so just give this place a
quick once-over to say he'd done it, then get the hell out. Go back
to that little motel he'd passed twenty miles down the road. Tomorrow
set out for the school 'cause he'd promised the kid. And Jean? asked
the little voice. Jean . . . She appeared in his mind's eye: cool,
smart, refined. What could she see in a Canucklehead like him—hot
tempered, ignorant and crude? No, say goodbye. This time for real.
Then— Then the road again.

He was midway down the corridor gloomily resigning himself to a bleak
future that matched his equally bleak present when he belatedly
realized something was different about this building. The air
here—
slightly warmer? Fresher? A faint hum on the periphery of his
hearing, more vibration than sound— Alerted, he shot out his
claws
and stopped in his tracks, slowly turning his head, questing. A faint
whiff of hot metal—there, down the hall. And this time it was not
his
imagination! But it was already too late. Even as he took a step
towards the source of that sharp, burning odor his joints locked.