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like the Idea of Rogue as a DOminatrix,
and WOlverine as slave so they could
have some kind of relationship without
Rogue killing Wolverine?

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   o I want some way for Rogue and Wolverine to touch
   o I would love to see Rogue dressed as a Dominatrix with a whip
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Please ignore earlier message, damn comp got it wrong!

Fic: Misunderstandings (Or Telepaths can be Match-makers too!)

Disclaimer: I no own, so you no sue, comprende?

Rating: 15 in da UK, not sure in Amreica

Feedback: Yeah, but first fic, so be gentle!!, to alana_helbling@...

Archive: you’re kidding me? You’d want this? (If so just let me know, but sure!)



MARIE POV



It started out fine.

Logan came back, ruffled my hair after hugging me hello, shot a heated look at
Jean, and then went to unpack. He didn’t give the bike keys back, but that was
just to annoy Scott.

Then we did the friendship thing. Or tried to. But we had to work at it at
first. I mean, sure, I’d been in his head, and I knew what he found funny, what
would piss him off, and what would cause him to hurt. But that didn’t mean I
knew how to talk to him as a person. If anything, it made it more difficult,
because some of the stuff I knew he could do, well, I had to work to forget it
around him or I’d just have stood there with my mouth dropped open in
admiration.

And then there’s the little fact that in his head, the box with my name on it
contained very little content. As a matter of fact, at first I think it only
contained three things.

    I couldn’t be touched.
    I was from the South and was heading North, originally.
    I disliked being kidnapped by the Brotherhood.

So, after the first few sticky moments where neither of us could think of
anything to say, we settled down, and tried to trust each other, and for the
most part succeeded.

Then I overheard something that made me think again.

The link from Alkali Lake had turned up nothing. That was common knowledge. So
the professor had been working with him to remove the memory blocks from around
his previous life. Now Logan was not fond of this idea at all. No siree. As a
matter of fact, the base of our friendship was probably formed from when the
Prof. Had just sprung the idea on him, and he’d track me down to talk to me
about his feelings on the matter. Listening to him spill all his insecurities
and worries to me over this was what probably gave me the strength to ignore my
little crush and focus on Logan, my trying-to-be-friend rather than Logan
object-of-my-steamy-teenage-affections. After much brow beating and soul
searching he decided to go along with it. And it was fine. Until Jean took over
his treatment.

It was never supposed to happen, but on the day the Prof and Logan were supposed
to be having an intense training session, something major came up in Washington,
which required the Professor to be there. But their appointment couldn’t just be
rescheduled – if they left it, the barriers would work their way back up, and
they would have to start all over. So Jean had to do it.

That meant Logan had to trust her with the entire contents of his mind as
completely as he’d trusted the Professor, and, to some extent, me. And Logan
doesn’t like trusting people, so adding yet another person to his list of
people-that-know-everything-about-me was not his favourite idea in the world.
But he did it. And that’s where the trouble started.

Logan’s feelings about Jean were fairly well known and accepted. So I didn’t
really mean to pay such attention to part of a conversation I heard through a
door. Really. I was supposed to be meeting with Jubes to discuss what we’d be
doing to celebrate our 19th birthdays. So standing outside the door of the maths
classroom where Logan and Jean were having their session was not where I was
supposed to be.

"Logan, I, I can’t believe you’d think…. My God, I just don’t believe it!"

What, so Logan had propositioned Jean? Big deal, we all knew it would happen.

"Jean…"

"I mean, Logan, what are you thinking? There’s no way-"

"Yeah Jean, I know. Which is why I’m not telling Rogue."

OK, that hurt. They’ve obviously done something together which he sees fit to
keep from me...

"Well, I must admit that that’s sensible, but this, this problem needs to be
addressed…"

"Yeah, well I’m taking care of it, so if you’re smart you won’t tell anyone
else. Especially Scott."

The last phrase was muttered, and was swiftly followed by a ‘mumph’ like someone
trying to say something but being stopped by something covering his or her
mouth.

Like someone else’s lips.

I couldn’t take any more. I ran outside and into the garage. Mentally giving the
finger to my inner Logan, I took the most impractical car in there, and went and
burnt out my new credit card.

By the time I came back that afternoon my mind was made up. I had to talk to him
about it – I couldn’t just pretend I hadn’t heard what I had, and besides the
fact he didn’t want to tell me, most important was the fact that he was heading
for a broken heart.

And I wasn’t sure I was up to picking up the pieces.

He wasn’t around at dinner, nor was he in when I knocked on his door, although
he’d left it unlocked. I let myself in and settled down on his bed to wait him
out.

I guess I must have fallen asleep because the next thing I saw was his face
scowling down at me.





LOGAN POV

It started out fine.

I came home, and pulled up into the garage with Marie beaming and throwing
herself at me, Jean sending out her I’m-gorgeous-and-I-know-it vibes, and Scott
glaring at me with looks that could kill.

No pun intended.

I was home to stay for a while. Actually I really couldn’t imagine myself
leaving voluntarily in the foreseeable future, but I kept the keys to piss
Scooter off, who of course immediately started trying to warn everyone who’d
listen not to get too attached ‘cause I’d be taking off again soon. No one had
the good sense to believe what was wishful thinking on his part. Heh – stupid
pansy.

Me and Marie became close. ‘Course it helped she was the one I spilled my guts
to about how worried I was about the Professor creeping around in my head
looking for memories.

It wasn’t the memories I was worried about him finding. It was the remnants of
the daydreams that had started slinking up on me ever since the week after I
left. The ones that involved a naked, touchable, writhing Marie in a multitude
of positions and places, all of which included an equally naked, touchable and
writhing me. She was wearing a bearskin in some, was pregnant in a couple.

And one even had her in a wedding dress.

Sweet Jesus, how was I gonna explain this to wheels?

I decided pre-warned was pre-armed, so one morning I just strode into his office
and was more honest to him than I had been to myself.

Yes, I wanted Marie, despite the fact that she was barely legal.

Yes, most of my waking hours since this realisation had been taken up with
various fantasies of her, so if he was gonna go rummaging through my head, he
was gonna come across more than a few of them.

Yes, since I had realised this I had ceased to feel desire for any other woman –
including Jean.

No, this had never happened before, even during that long week I had thought I
was in love with Jean.

And finally in a very small voice inside my head, I admitted my last point:

Yes, I think I love her.

He still heard me.

He just nodded gravely, and said that my business was exactly that - my
business. Thank you for warning him, and he’d do his best to ignore and forget
anything he thought was private, now would I please excuse him, as he had to
prepare for a meeting with a prospective pupil. Then he said something I nearly
didn't believe as he wheeled himself out of the door of his office.

In truth, if you took into account my memory loss and the effects of her
mutation, the age difference really wasn’t existent anymore, so I should stop
worrying about it so much. And then he winked at me, and disappeared around a
corner.

I don’t think I could have told you what happened the rest of that afternoon if
WWIII had started, I was so in shock. Then Marie came home from some mechanics
conference she had been to in the city, and I shook my self out of it, and
started planning.

Too bad I never got to carry any of them out.

The meeting Charles (as he’d asked me to call him – in truth all of the adults
did in private) got called away to was a genuine emergency. Something similar to
the mutant registration act but worse – in truth he was so anxious about it, his
explanation of what it was to me didn’t quite make sense, but that wasn’t what
was important.

Jean would be taking over my training for an entire week. Not long enough for us
to make any significant breakthroughs together, but long enough that she would
have seen what I didn’t want her too. But it was either that or start all over,
and there was no way I was gonna do that.

The sooner I found the past the sooner I could get to grips – literally – with
my future, was my line of thinking, one sunny afternoon as I sat in the garden,
watching Marie twirl a piece of hair around her finger as she read, and the
professor went roaring off down the drive with Ororo as a chauffeur. One hour
later I was off to my session, hoping I could get it over with quickly. Of
course it could never be that simple.

We had barely begun when she came across one of them – it wasn’t actually too
explicit by my standards, but she still reacted as though I’d poured boiling
liquid into her lap.

"Logan, how, how…?"

"Yes Jean the professor knows."

Maybe that would shut her up.

"Logan, I, I can’t believe you’d think…. My God, I just don’t believe it!".

Yeah didn’t think so, but if she’d just listen,

"Jean…"

"I mean, Logan, what are you thinking? There’s no way-"

I don’t care if you think there’s no way, and what I plan to do about it, but
maybe if I pretend I think it’s as wrong as you do you’ll shut up.

"Yeah Jean, I know. Which is why I’m not telling Rogue."

"Well, I must admit that that’s sensible, but this, this problem needs to be
addressed…"

Jesus Christ – problem? That is irony coming from you Red’,
Miss-I’m-8-yrs-older-than-my-fiancee. Oh crap, if she tells Scooter I’m gonna be
out on my butt faster than you can blink. Shit, can’t let that happen-

"Yeah, well I’m taking care of it," and you wouldn’t like how, " so if you’re
smart you won’t tell anyone else. Especially Scott." Come on doc, get the hint…

It was then I caught the scent, one laced with sadness and misery, one that I
should’ve noticed a hell of a lot sooner if I hadn’t been distracted. Jean had
started to say something more, so I put my hand over her mouth so I could
concentrate on it, and no sooner did her muffled noise of protest reach my ears
than I heard frantic footsteps down the hall. She’d heard us.

Shit.

It was time to come clean. That was the only way I could see out of this, and I
was praying that even if she didn’t want to at least give us a try she’d let us
remain friends. It wasn’t much of a chance, but it was better than what I had at
that moment in time, which was exactly nothing.

She didn’t come back until the evening, but by four I’d decided that I needed to
get off the school grounds to sort out what I was gonna say to her, and without
much effort ended up at a bar.



Surprise surprise.

Three hours, an astonished bartender and two comatose drunks later I was on my
way back, only to be forestalled by 90 minutes when I discovered that one of the
aforementioned drunk’s friends had took upon himself to give me a little payback
via the means of the bike. So it was actually more like five hours, two cops, a
bartender and four comatose drunks/idiots I arrived home.



Needless to say I wasn’t in the best of moods.

She wasn’t in her room, but a fresh scent trail led me to mine, to find her
crashed out on my bed, all wrapped up in my blanket. God, did she look cute, and
sweet.

And so goddamn hot. What with the view and the dregs of alcohol still in my
system and the fact that she now smelt more like us than her, well, none of it
was helping my mental state. My mind went back to what I had planned to say to
her, which was by no means mushy, but it still brought a lump to my throat that
I couldn’t speak around.

Hey, it was the closest thing to an emotional confession I’d done in a long
time.

Well, not if you counted Jean and Charles, but this was to the one person who
actually mattered, dammit.

Sighing, I went with plan B – the
‘what-the-hell-were-you-eavesdropping-on-me-for-don’t-you-know-I’d-tell-you-anyt\
hing?’ one. That started off with me being mad, so I slapped on my best
I’m-gonna-kill-someone face and nudged her awake.

Then she opened those gorgeous chocolate eyes with an adorably confused look on
her face, and I was lost.

[Key:

Logan speaking

~Logan thinking~

Marie speaking

~Marie thinking~]

"Hey there sugar,"

~Oh my god, did I just call him sugar? Shit I did, dammit, thought I’d gotten
past that.~

~Sugar? I like it. Of Course I’d like it even better if she was purring it
after…No, have to straighten things out first.~

"Hey there. Mind telling me what you’re doing on my bed darlin’?"

~Darlin’? Oh God, didn’t mean to call her that. And o’ course I’d have her on my
bed full time if I could…~

~Darling? He called me darling? Oh my God, no down hormones, he’s just been
drinking, that’s all, yup I can smell the booze. Of course it’s physically
impossible for him to get drunk, but I’m not going to think about that until
I’ve gotten this out.~

"Logan, I overheard you talking to Jean this afternoon, and I didn’t mean to,
but I did and I’ve got to tell you some stuff before you go any further, so, so
just stay quiet and hear me out."

~Oh God, look at his face. He really didn’t want me knowing, he looks like he’s
going to be sick. Maybe I ought to just tell him it’s not a good idea and stop,
it’ll probably cause him less pain.~

~Oh God she’s gonna agree with Jean. She’s gonna say she doesn’t even think we
should try. Shit this is gonna be hard to listen to. Glad I kept those keys, I
might need to take off after this, I can already feel that lump in my throat
coming back.~

"OK."

~Good, he’s gonna at least listen.~
"I’m just going to say I think it’s a bad idea, and that people are going to get
hurt. I’m sure you can work out why, and I’m going to leave what I say at that."

~There, leaves him plenty of options, and I didn’t guilt trip him hardly at all
and – oh he looks even worse. What did I say that was so bad? Come on Marie,
think, before he slips away from you altogether…~

~She doesn’t think it’s gonna be a good idea, and won’t say why. Well, it’s
pretty damn obvious why. Chuck, you were wrong, the age did matter, and the
drinking, and swearing, and the fighting. Oh baby, don’t give up when we haven’t
even started, I’ll change, I’ll beg, don’t push me away…~

"I think it could work," ~Could I have sounded any more sorry for myself?~

"I can change, really, if I work really hard, I’m sure it’ll work, I mean, I
just want a chance…"

~God, baby, please, just one chance, one little chance, a week, a day, an hour.
I’ll make you so happy, I promise…~

~God, he sounds so desperate, and he thinks he can make her leave Scott. Oh, he
loves her so much, it’s not fair on him, why does she have to play with his
heart – I never thought she was this cruel, but she’s a telepath, how can she
not know?~

"Logan don’t you see? You shouldn’t have to change to be in a relationship that
works. If you are it’s the other person that doesn’t deserve you, not the other
way around…"

~Please Logan, don’t let her break you, you’re worth so much more than she is…~

~No, baby please, I’m asking for you, don’t turn this around and give my that
not good enough bullshit, I know I’m making you feel guilty, but one chance, and
I’ll leave you alone. Please.~

"I know, but if it’s the only way…Don’t you see Marie, if I had just one chance
I could prove it, I know I could, that’s all I’m asking, please?"

~Come on darlin’, just nod that pretty little head of yours, I’ll make you smile
so much, I won’t even let the nightmares get you if I have to stay up all night
to guard you sleeping, please baby please,~

~Oh God, why is he asking me? Does he think I can put in a good word with her or
something?~

"Logan, I’ll be honest, I don’t know what to say. It’s pretty clear how your
feelings are on this," ~God baby, please just say yes, or even maybe, I can work
with that too…~ "But it’s not like I can answer for her or anything, but I’ll
speak to her about it if you want…"

~OK, wasn’t that what he wanted? Now he just looks down right confused.~

~She’ll talk to her for me? What’s…~

"Baby, what are you talking about? You’ll talk to who for me?"

~OK, now that’s a look I haven’t seen before. Complete confusion, yup, that
would be it…~

~Oh God, sugar, I need you to stay sane for this conversation, if you would?~

"Jean, Logan. I said I’d talk to her for you. Wasn’t that what you asked me to
do?"

~Jean? Where the hell did she pop into this conversation?~

"Jean? Baby, what does Jean have to do with any of this?"

~OK, that’s the second time he’s called me baby in two sentences. And what does
he mean, what does Jean have to do with this?~

"Well, she’s the one you’ve been professing your undying love for, for, yah
know, the last 10 minutes. And she the one I overheard you propositioning in the
math room this morning. And the one you just asked me to help you get a chance
with…"

~OK that was crabby, but I don’t like being confused…~

~I love…Propositioned…Oh my darlin’, I’m sorry Marie, but I just have to…~

"Mumph."

"Mumph – LOGAN! Are you insane? you know how my skin works, and why did you just
kiss me? You’re in love with J-"

"Complete that thought and I’ll do it again. Darlin’, oh baby, I’m sorry if I
gave you the wrong impression, but I love YOU. I was asking for a chance to be
with YOU. If you’ll have me. I just didn’t think yo- Mumph!"

"Sorry, Logan, but, I, OH you idiot!! Why couldn’t you just come out and say
that huh? Why’d you have to make me worry you were going to get your heart
broken? God, do you know what I’ve been through all afternoon?"

"I’m sorry, sweetheart, but it can’t be anything to what I just went through the
last 10 minutes, and, baby, I was gonna, but you looked so fuckin’ gorgeous I
couldn’t, and, darlin’ please don’t cry…"

"It’s OK Logan, they’re happy tears, and, god, I love you so much, but in
future, if there’s ever something you can’t say, please, just write it down!!"

"Will do darlin’, now c’mere…"

CHARLES’ POV

Logan and Rogue announced their engagement last night. Jean and I have decided
to withhold the small parts we played in their relationship indefinitely. For
one, it would mean admitting we broke doctor-patient confidence, even if it was
by accident through a telepathic link (and one which initially gave us the idea
of how to get them together..) and it may not help all involved parties put more
trust in Jean if they learnt she was such a consummate actress. So for now, this
will be our little secret…Although we both have agreed that the steamy looks
Jubilee and Remy have been sending each other must be dealt with sooner rather
than later, but then again, a telepath’s job is never done I suppose…




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* * * * * *  * Disclaimer in part One * * * * * ** *



             Thanks everyone for enjoying this story, I hope you enjoy the final
two chapters!  It's been a fun write!



(((((((((((((((((((((((((





Somewhere over Westchester..



Rogue was perched nervously on the end of Hermione's broom.  She peered
nervously over the edge, which wasn't all that difficult before screwing her
eyes up again.  It wasn't that she was afraid of heights, she just liked them a
lot better when there was more than just a thin piece of wood between her and
the ground, some 500 feet below.   "It's quite safe Rogue, just close your eyes.
The first time I flew, I was quite nervous as well."



             "And you do this on a regular basis?"  Rogue asked in a shaky voice.



             "It's not so bad. I kind of like it now."  Hermione said.



             Rogue glanced a peek over the side, which entailed only moving her
head a few centimeters.  "I'll take your word for it" she said before gripping
the handlebars Hermione had provided.





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



Over the night skies elsewhere...



              Harry and Ron were flying as fast as their broomsticks would carry
them.  Both were supreme fliers, on  top quality brooms at that.   It wasn't
long until they were hovering over their destination.  The boys pulled their
brooms down until they were hovering perhaps 20 feet above the ground.



         "I don't see any lights Harry"  Ron said.



        "I don't either.  Let's go down there."



       The boys landed, and lay their brooms against a tree trunk.  Creeping
silently forward, as years of mischief making had had taught them, the two boys
slid up to the nearest window.



"Winardium Leviosa!"  Ron called softly, levitating Harry high enough that he
could see through the window.



     What he saw sent the old shivers of coldness through his body. He came face
to face with one of the hideously haglets.  Momentarily loosing his composure
Ron moved his wand and , Harry fell to the ground.



       "Thanks Ron, really."  Harry said sarcastically.



        "No problem Harry."



       "No, we do have a problem." Harry said as he eyed the front door of the
building opening and a hooded figure gliding towards him.



       "Accio Firebolt!"  Ron and Harry called together, and in the nick of time.
The Haglet that  had  snuck outside was now standing exactly where the young
wizards had been a moment ago.



        "Let's get out of here."



       "Let's see what they're up too.  I'll go around the back, you fly by the
front."



       "Right.  If something happens, send up sparks."  Ron said.



       "Right" Harry nodded before flying off.



       As Ron flew around to the front, he noticed more and more Haglets spilling
from the building and walking towards a van that was camouflaged with the night.



      "Have you got anything?"  He suddenly heard Rogue's voice crackle through
the headset.  Startled for a second, he attempted to find the button that Rogue
had showed him allowed him to reply to her.



      "We had a narrow escape with one of them,  Harry's flying around the back,
but I can see quite a few of them getting into a car. I think they're going
somewhere."



      "What direction are they going Ron?"  Rogue asked.



       "Wait a tick."  Ron said as he quickly performed the direction spell that
would always point him north.  His wand turned him completely opposite of where
he was.  "South.  It looks like they're heading south."



        "That's the direction of the mansion."  Rogue muttered in a tight voice.



        "Hang on a second." she said quietly.



        "Hermione, Ron just said he swathe haglets heading towards the mansion."



       "We've got to get back to the team."  Hermione said.  "They can fly faster
than we can, it's important to warn the people at your place that they're about
to be invaded."



        "Ron, you and Harry can fly faster, we think it's a good idea to get you
two back to the mansion immediately, we're going to get the team."



       "Sounds right, we'll head back immediately.  Be careful."  Ron said as he
cut out.



      "Change of plans Harry, we're heading back to Xavier's." Ron informed his
friend as he flew up behind him.



     "Let's hope we get there before they do" Harry said grimly as the two shot
off at top speed towards the X-mansion.





  Back in the old cell....





    Logan was getting bored with the silence, and since Scott wasn't around, he'd
use the even better thing.  "So, how long have you two been dating?"



"Be your pardon" Snape said in a very put upon voice.



   "You and that curly haired girl.  Hermes or whatever."



   "Hermi- never mind."



"No, I want to know the name of your love interest."



"What are you two? Hermione is my student.  And you have no room to talk.
Snogging with a student, who is clearly underage."  Snape seethed.



"She's 18, Chuck doesn't object so shut the fuck up."  Logan was frustrated this
wasn't going his way.



"Touchy about our underage student snoging I see.  No need to be so defensive." 
Snape said, thrilled he was getting to Logan.



"Shut up.  You don't know what you're talking about" Logan said in a dangerous
voice.



"Besides, I see how you look at the little witch.  Don't bother denying it.  I
can smell when you're lying."



"And I can smell that you haven't had a bath yet today."  Snape shot back.



"I don't think you've had a bath in the last 10 years.  Your hair is disgusting.
I ain't a pretty boy like Scooter, but damn, even I wash my hair."



"This is getting us nowhere."  Snape sighed.





Outside the prison....



        Hermione and Rogue circled into the battleground and quickly dismounted. 
"I kind of like flying now Rogue told the young witch."



       "Yeah, it is kind of fun" Hermione grinned.  "So where to go?"  she said
searching for roving X-Men.





     Soon enough, the two found Jean, who appeared to be searching for something.



      "Jean!"  Rogue called to the telepathic red head.



       "The shit's going down at the mansion.  Ron got a hold of us, he said all
the haglets were headed towards the mansion."



       "Thanks girls. We think Snape and Logan got themselves into some sort of
trouble.  They haven't answered us, since we sent them out too look for you."



       "They probably got themselves caught."  Rogue said ruefully.



       "Yeah, most likely.  Should teach them a lesson" Jean smirked.



       "Well, Hermione got her wand back, so if you want to head back for the
mansion, we can find the two nitwits."



       "Are you sure Rogue?"  Jean asked with concern.



       "Yeah.  I think we can take them."



       "You did get caught once." She pointed out.



      "And we got away from them" Hermione interjected.



      "Point taken.  I'll let Scott know it's time to head out."



      Rogue just nodded as she and Hermione took off to the side again as Jean
telepathically called Scott, and Ororo.



         An idea struck Hermione.  "Rogue, if I enchant another broom, do you
think you can fly it?"



       "Hell yes" Rogue grinned, completely over her fear of flying now that
she'd had a little experience.





**



"Dumbass."



"American."



"Coffee hater."



"Brute."



"Wimp."



"Imbecile."



"Egg head."



"Muggle."



"Jackass."



"If you two are done now, perhaps you'd like to get out of there?"  Hermione's
voice rang out as she was hovering near the open window.



TBC
Autumn
*************
Kelso: "What a fine game of cat and mouse it will be!"
Fez "What if the cat is retarded?"
-That 70's SHow

Autumn's Travel Journal
http://www.livejournal.com/uses/loveablepenguin/


[Non-text portions of this message have been removed]

*   Disclaimer in Part One*



A/N:  This takes part about 6 months after part three.  Again this is probably
NC-17 for violence.



Previous parts can be found at:



http://www.autumnpenguins.com



  (((((((((((((((((((((((((((((





One thing / I don't know why
It doesn't even matter how hard you try
Keep that in mind / I designed this rhyme
To remind myself how
I tried so hard
In spite of the way you were mocking me
Acting like I was part of your property
Remembering all the times you fought with me
I'm surprised it got so (far)



             The sound of shoes dragging on the cold concrete floor was all that
rang through the unending silence.  Erik unrolled the cell doors with his a wave
of his hand before he entered the cell door with the girl draped over his
shoulder.  He dropped her lightly on the bed and relocked the door.  The thud
coming from the cell to the left of him annoyed him.  "Victor, don't just throw
him on the floor.  I know not much can damage the man, but don't be such a
child."  Erik called over his shoulder as he clicked the lock back into place.



             Victor simply growled in response.  Erik's insistence that he leave
the Wolverine unharmed irritated him.  He knew the man had to be kept alive and
healthy for his participation in the experiments, but it still irked him that he
couldn't just beat the guy up every once in awhile.  Still, he had to admit that
he was glad Logan was here.  He knew that had they captured the girl by herself,
he himself would have been the one in Logan's place right now.

             From what he'd seen of the girl's powers, he had to admit that he
was happy about that.  Victor had signed on to work with Magneto with full
understanding of what would be required of him, it wasn't that he was unwilling
to further Magneto's scientific glory, he was jus t glad that he was conscious
and now where Logan was at the moment.  The pain had to be intense.  His growls
of anguish mixed with her screams as the webs across their faces grew were
something nobody who witnessed it would forget.  The only one who seemed to
enjoy it was Mystique.

             He scowled at the mere name.  The bitch was the most sadistic person
he'd ever encountered.  She lived on pain, it excited her.  She'd watch with
relish every time Erik brought and he brought in their test subjects.  He'd seen
her tape record them more than once, eyes locked hungrily on the pair.  He
didn't understand what Erik kept her around for.  Good fuck or not, she was both
stupid and dangerous.  He doubted she'd hesitate for a second to inflict pain on
him if given a chance.  She'd suggested several times that they rotate Logan
with himself to test against the girl.

             Erik had told her once that he saw no reason to incapacitate Victor
when they had a perfectly good subject at hand.  It was his usefulness that kept
him around and he knew it.  Erik was attached to nobody.







Things aren't the way they were before
You wouldn't even recognize me anymore
Not that you knew me back then
But it all comes back to me
In the end
You kept everything inside and even though I tried / it all fell apart
What it meant to me / will eventually / be a memory / of a time when I



             Logan awoke in his cell three days later.  He was tired and drained
of nearly all his strength.  The weakness he felt the first few hours after
waking up was indescribably.  Moving was incredibly different as his muscles
reacquainted themselves with animation.  His skeleton seemed extra heavy, and
healing factor or not, he felt like shit.  He could only imagine how Marie felt.
He supposed that after she absorbed him, she was forced to absorb Magneto and
then attempt to power his machine.  The screams were terrible the first time. 
He's been forced to watch her take Magneto in the first time, and then the
machine, and then revive her with himself.  He was willing to do that bit, would
have done it anywhere if it meant that she would live, but he hated himself for
doing it, and furthering the project.

             Erik had decided better results were garnered from her absorbing
himself first, then Logan, and then powering the machine.  He guessed that she
had better stamina and would pass out, but not die.  He guessed correctly as
they were attempting to now get the correct mixture of Logan's power, and
Magneto's power in a concoction that would allow Marie to power the machine but
stay alive.  Logan wasn't stupid enough to think that he kept Marie alive for
sheer humanitarian reasons; he suspected it was for one thing alone, juice for
the machine.

             His mutation inside of Marie carried over into her very personality;
her resolve to escape was back and was more fevered than ever.  Every night that
they were both uninjured, and conscious they would stay up late into the night
working on a plan to get out. Progress was slow, it was true that they were not
guarded at night, but the only time they were out of the cells was to and from
experiments.  They were brought to and from the experimentation room by Magneto
and Sabertooth.  If they were going to escape, it had to be in that time frame.

             As Magneto pulled Logan with his power, it had to be Marie that
caused the distraction they surely needed to escape. Logan thought quietly about
the situation, analysing all the players and all the possibilities in his mind. 
There were the cells themselves, his was magnetized, hers he assumed was not. 
She had his power, but he'd heard her leaning against the bars before and she
didn't seem affected.  There was the fact that to his knowledge there were only
two other people in the place.  Sabertooth, who he suspected wanted to fight him
for whatever reason, and Magneto.  Magneto was clearly physically weaker than
Magneto, but he was so calculated and collected in every way.  He was also
arrogant.  No guards could be detected near them, and only his cell had extra
protection.  He needed to study his opponent, use the arrogance against him. It
was their best hope.  It was a slim shot at best, but it was an opening.







I tried so hard
And got so far
But in the end
It doesn't even matter
I had to fall
To lose it all
But in the end
It doesn't even matter



             Rogue was nervous, there were so many things that could go wrong
with this plan.  The Logan in her head, and in the cell next to hers told her
that everything would be alright, and not to worry, but despite his
reassurances, she couldn't help but worry about what could happen.  In the end
she agreed that it was best.  Even if they died, it was better than this hell
they were living.  She wanted them to get out of here, or in the worst-case
scenario she wanted Logan to get out of here.  It was slowly killing him to heal
her each time.  It took him longer to recover, and it was quicker for him to
fall. She didn't know if he noticed, but lately she'd been waking before him
after a test.  She could feel his presence grow stronger in him, and pieces of
himself and his mutation were taking up a more permanent place in her mind.  She
couldn't tell him, it would be cruel.

             But she was sure he knew that he was fading.  It would take awhile
longer to kill him, but one day, he would never recover, and never wake up.  She
didn't want to live to see that day.  They'd been thrown together in this
without asking for it.  He'd done her a favour; he'd saver her life and kept her
strong.  In return all he got back was pain, sorrow, and a loss of his mutation.
It was a bitter pill to swallow, to realize that she was killing the only person
she'd come to care about.  It was the fault of another to be sure, but all in
all it was her skin, her existence and her life that was draining him away.  She
hated that, and the hate built to a rage and a passion that she wasn't aware
existed.




I've put my trust in you
Pushed as far as I can go
And for all this
There's only one thing you should know
I've put my trust in you
Pushed as far as I can go
And for all this
There's only one thing you should know



             A week ago, the plan had become finalized.  They waited tensed and
nervous.  Marie holding onto the single weapon in her hand.  Logan tensed and
ready.  Each thought back to how this evolved as the footsteps came down the
hallway.



********



             "Marie, stick your arm outside of the cell.  We've only got one
chance at this.  I'll be thrown back against the wall after I slide this too
you."



             "I'm ready" she said a few seconds after he heard the rustling of
fabric brushing bars and floor.



             Logan extended his claws, the middle one on his left hand much
looser than the other two to the trained eye.  The thought had occurred to Marie
about three weeks ago.  It was a shrewd thought that had never occurred to him
before, it was genius. The metal in his body was not a part of him, and
therefore his mutation did not affect it.  Over the past few weeks he'd been
able to slice through the ademantium implanted in his arm, and all it looked
like to the outsider was Logan sharpening his claws.  He's been careful to keep
up the pretext of the action by pointedly baiting Sabertooth.

             The shavings from the deteriorating claw base were folded carefully
into a hold he'd poked into the thin mattress on his bed.  There was virtually
no way to detect it.   He was now working on the final few cuts that would
remove the claw completely from his arm.  It was off, a deadly weapon that their
plan was so dependent upon.  He quickly retracted the remaining claws and
gathered the few shavings.

             Seconds later he was on the ground and ready to send it over.  "Be
careful, it's sharp," he said as he shoved the claw sideways and hit the metal
of the bars.  He was thrown backwards, hit the wall and passed out before he
could be sure Marie had the claw.



Marie grabbed the metal, and winced at the loud thud as Logan hit the wall of
his cell.  It was the final push; she was ready to do this.  By any means
necessary, she would get out.  She was finally thinking like Erik.



*****



I tried so hard
And got so far
But in the end
It doesn't even matter
I had to fall
To lose it all
But in the end
It doesn't even matter



           The cell doors rolled back, Logan and Rogue were both facing the walls
of their cells.  Counting to five.  They had timed it, they had calculated
everything.  Three, two, one, Rogue struck.  Before Erik's first footfall
towards her had ended she whirled and struck.  The aim was true; Erik's throat
was sliced precisely as it needed to be.  The shock in the blue eyes registered
briefly before he fell face fist into the cell, gasping for air and losing
blood.

             Logan knew Rogue had hit her mark; the magnetic hold on him dropped
and he launched himself at Sabertooth.  His five claws sunk into the flesh of
the mutant, and he drove them upwards.  Victor knew he was in trouble; he'd
underestimated this guy.  He knew he was facing his final moments.  The metal
claws raked up his inside, burning with deadly force.  But Victor wouldn't go
down in a fight without causing some damage of his own.  His hands rose and he
planted them on the top of Logan's chest.  Tearing, ripping the toughened flesh
instantly.  The claws on his right hand pierced through all the flesh, until he
came to the heart.



             Marie turned the now dead Erik over and pulled the claw from his
throat, getting showered in blood once again.  She turned towards Logan's cell,
intending to help.



             Logan was too fast; he twisted the two claws inside the mutant while
his right hand swept Sabertooth's head off in a clean cut.  The damage was done
though.  Logan was loosing so much blood, from ten separate wounds to his chest.
He fell to his knees, and a blood covered Marie stepped towards him.



             "Get out!"  He wheezed.



             "But Logan, you've got to come with me!" she cried tears filling her
eyes.



             "Marie get out, there's no time."  He panted hoping she would take
off.  Then this wouldn't be in vain.



             With a final look at him, she took off with the claw in hand.  Logan
collapsed on the concrete floor, breathing shallowly. She would get out, she
would survive, he was certain of that.  It made this all worthwhile.  He felt a
strong pair of hands grab him and turn him over.  His eyes widened in shock as
he stared at him in shock. The ugly face of the man he had just killed snarled
at him before morphing into a blue face with malevolent eyes.  "You'll wish you
died here before I get through with you." she spoke with utter hatred.



             Logan had no doubt about that as she morphed into the fallen mutant
once again and drug him off towards the direction of the testing lab.



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





A/N The idea for Logan to cut his claw off came to me the last time I watched
X-Men.  When Mystique takes on an appearance of another character, I got the
impression that she gets their powers as well as she was able to sprout
Wolverine's claws without injury.  Logan also cut off the claws Mystique had
unleashed, with no injury to either of them.



Autumn
*************
Kelso: "What a fine game of cat and mouse it will be!"
Fez "What if the cat is retarded?"
-That 70's SHow

Autumn's Travel Journal
http://www.livejournal.com/uses/loveablepenguin/
Autumn's Penguin Imporium
http://www.autumnpenguins.com


[Non-text portions of this message have been removed]

Winter Kisses
By Nadja Lee                                     08/11/02

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: After the movie

Universe: Movie

Romance: Scott/Ororo, Logan/Rogue

Summary: Scott and Ororo walk in the snow, talk and enjoy the winter air…and
maybe some winter kisses as well…

Archiving: Want, ASK, take,  have.

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

Rating: G/PG

For Marrie’s winter challenge

Thanks so much to Estelle for the Beta as always *hugz*



*                    *                    *

Scott looked out the window in the big livingroom as he tightened his grip
around his warm coffee mug. It was Sunday, just 15 days until Christmas and
everyone seemed to have gotten into the holiday spirit. The mansion was
decorated from floor to ceiling with beautiful and sparkling decorations from
every culture and nation they had students from including Native American,
African, European and Asian decorations. Xavier sat further back in the big
room, towards the wall of books and the fireplace and was reading while
Christmas music was playing from the stereo and he smelled chocolate and duck
coming from the kitchen where dinner was being prepared under Jean and Remy’s
watchful eyes.

He returned to look out the window. Everywhere he looked the landscape had been
painted white with snow. Ice crystals had formed on the window and made
beautiful patterns, ice taps hang from the house's roof, and the snow lay as a
blanket over the naked bushes and trees like a lover’s protective embrace.

The falling snow was small and fine, if he concentrated he could see the small
star shaped snowflakes fall towards the ground. The snow was falling heavily now
as it had for the last few days and he couldn’t see further than some 40 meters.
The snow would reach him to his knees now and it was still falling. He followed
some of the students with his eyes as they were playing in the snow, saw Jubilee
and Bobby in a somewhat unfair snowball fight as Bobby simply made the snowballs
with his powers. He had sent Logan out to keep an eye on the students and he saw
Logan was doing his best to try and escape a rain of snowball attacks led by
Rogue. Scott smiled as he saw Logan fall and Rogue jump onto him, throwing snow
on his face and laughing. They rolled around together until Logan succeeded in
getting some snow inside Rogue’s coat and she cried out and got up from him,
playfully treating him with all kinds of misery until she had gotten her
revenge.

  “They look happy,” Ororo’s voice sounded from behind him. He smiled and turned
around to face her. She was in tight pants and a half long blouse with
decorations round its V-neck. Though the fire was sparkling in the living room
it was only because of her mutation which prevented her from ever feeling cold
that she could wear such clothes. Scott himself wore long pants and a warm
woolen shirt. He caught himself wondering what color eyes she had and if they
matched the color in her clothes. He knew she had white hair…she had to look
really beautiful surrounded by the white snow.

Jean and him had broken up 134 days ago…not that he was counting or anything.
They had parted as friends and agreed it was best, they had simply slipped apart
as it so often happens…but he still missed her and had wondered if anything
could replace what they had shared. Until today he hadn’t even thought of
another woman…. Ororo had always been a good friend…he wasn’t sure if it was a
good idea to think of her as anything more; it could destroy what they had and
he didn’t want to risk that.

“Do you want to take a walk in the snow?” Ororo asked softly. Scott studied her
face to try and find out why she asked but she looked at the playing students, a
small smile around her lips.

“Okay,” he agreed, still fighting his urge to ask her what color her eyes
had…what color her clothes were. It had been so easy with Jean; she had always
known what he was thinking.

Scott drank the rest of his coffee and Ororo took his now empty mug and went to
place it in the dishwasher. He went with her and waited for her as she came out
of the kitchen.

“Come,” she said and took his hand as she guided him through the hallway and
towards one of the mansions backdoors. He spotted her cape hanging next to the
door and took it for her and held it out to her. She easily slipped into it and
turned around to face him. Something made him reach out and fasten her cape
around her neck, his fingers barely brushing against her skin. He stepped back
and enjoyed the sight of her, the cape was made in wool but had fur edges all
the way around it. She noticed his eyes on her and took up the hood on the cape,
making it frame her face beautifully with its furry edges. She looked like a
princess…no, a snow queen. She smiled at him while she pulled on her boots.

“Don’t you have a coat?” she asked and Scott shook his head and remembered to
remove the big smile that had played over his lips. Oh, yes…coat…. where was his
coat? He looked around to find it and frowned irritated when he saw that several
students had just thrown their coats on the floor next to the door, just below
the hangers. He bent down to pick up the coats and hang them up so they weren’t
destroyed laying on the floor but Ororo was quicker. With a wave of her hand she
called a wind to her and the coats flew up and hang themselves on the hangers.
Scott smiled widely; she had known just what he had wanted to do. He found his
coat on the hanger and pulled it on, finding some warm boots to put on as well.

“Let’s go,” he said and opened the door and held it open for her. She nodded her
thanks as she stepped through the door and he followed behind, closing the door
behind him. They began to walk towards the forest on the back of the property
and though they could hear the students playing on the other side of the house
their voices soon died out and only the peaceful song of birds could be heard.
As they walked Scott cast stolen looks towards Ororo and saw that she was
floating just a little above the snow, making it look like she was walking on
air. With a beautiful cape and regal bearing her walk made him compare her to a
vision from a dream or fantasy.

“At home we didn’t have snow. The first time I made it snow I thought it was
gifts from the sky,” Ororo said, her voice low, remembering yet it ran loud in
the stillness. Her breath was visible in the cold winter air and without
thinking Scott laid his arm around her as if to warm her before he remembered
she couldn’t feel the cold. He let his hand stay around her waist. She pretended
not to notice.

“In a way they are. There’s something magical about snow,” Scott said softly.
Something…romantic, he added silently. Something that made him feel happy,
carefree…..like anything could happen.

“Yes…something romantic,” she whispered and turned to smile at him. He smiled
back, a little taken back. How had she….? He had just thought that. He had
thought only Jean could do that.

“Come,” she reached out her hand for him. Curious he withdrew the hand he had
held around her and laid it in hers. She smiled and the next thing he knew he
felt his feet lift from the ground, free of the snow. He was now walking on air,
or rather on top of the snow just like she.

“Wow,” was all he could get out. Jean still didn’t have enough control to fly,
and certainly not enough to take anyone with her. This was….he looked down at
his feet, just above the snow….this was amazing.

She laughed, a rich pearly sound of happiness as she withdrew her hand.

“No,” fearful he tried to reach for her again; afraid he would fall down.

“It’s okay. I’ll never let you fall,” she promised and he calmed down, seeing he
wasn’t falling anywhere. Instead Ororo called a wind to her, snowflakes dancing
in the air. She made the wind fly around them, the snow making a circle around
them as the snowflakes formed a spiral around them and Scott felt himself being
gently pushed closer to Ororo. It was like a magical dance as the flakes
sparkled in the sunlight, surrounding them, binding them together. It was
indescribably beautiful…it was magical. She smiled at him as if she knew his
thoughts. He felt himself being lifted higher up into the air. He fought the
fear for falling down and smiled at her, believing in her as she lifted them
both 1,5 meters into the air. More rings of snowflakes danced around them. The
wind took in her cape, making it fly around her and it played with her hair. She
looked stunning and just like the Goddess she had been worshipped as.

“I have brown eyes but they’re white when I use my powers. My blouse is light
red, my pants are red/brownish and my cape is the same color as my blouse, only
the fur is white,” she said softly and smiled at his stunned look. “I’ve talked
with Jean and gotten some tips. You see…. you don’t have to read minds to know
someone,” beneath her teasing tone there was hope…and fear of rejection.

Scott nodded and reached out for her. She laid her hand in his and he pulled her
close, feeling a tingling inside at the touch, at flying and having her so
close.

“I begin to see that now,” he mumbled and looked at her face, imagining the
color play, imagining how beautiful she looked in color and he found that she
already looked stunning; she didn’t need colors…she had an inner glow that made
her look beautiful in anything.

“Do you?” she whispered and pressed herself closer to him and he laid his arms
around her. The rings of snow flew faster around them, more rings joining them,
forming a spiral. He took her under the chin and lifted her face up so he could
look her in the eyes.

“Yes, I do,” he said softly and bent down, his lips meeting hers. At first the
kiss was trying, soft but then it became more sure, loving and deep as she
pulled him close and deepened the kiss.

Above them a rainbow exploded in colors and small frozen raindrops like crystals
sprang out above their heads, the snowflakes danced around them and the sun
smiled to them…matching Ororo’s happiness and the love she felt in her heart.
The love she now knew was returned and she knew…. this would be the best
Christmas ever.



The End



Due to exams and a general lack of time this will probably be my only Christmas
story this year so…..Merry Christmas everyone! And happy holidays to those who
don’t celebrate Christmas.

May all your wishes come true!

I don't remember if I had sent this chpater out or not... so I'm sending it
out now. Sorry if I already did, though.

Title: Fabulous Fatal Felines
Part: 15/? By <A HREF="www.geocities.com/blackqueenphoenix">Natalia</A>
Previous parts can be found: <A
HREF="http://www.fanfiction.net/read.php?storyid=853687">Fan Fiction.Net</A>

It was late at night, but, Professor Charles Xavier couldn't sleep.

His mind was reeling from what had happened earlier at dinner. His favored
student, Scott, had two cats who seemed to understand what he was capable of
doing... and had communicated with him.

The grey kitten, Bella, had announced her distaste for Logan.

It was odd. Perplexing, really.

He'd tried afterwards to intercept either of the cats thoughts, but was
unable to do so. He figured it had to do with the cats themselves projecting
their thoughts.

It would explain why at his youth, his mind hadn't been filled with his
animals thoughts.

Or, perhaps humans weren't the only ones who could have "super-powers". The
thought of animal mutants amused him so, he feel asleep when the sun began to
rose with thoughts of spandex-clad animals in his mind.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Fluffy lay nestled in the small of Logan's back as she slept peacefully. "All
animosities can be forgotten if she es given a comfy place to sleep," Bella
couldn't help but think with a small smile.

She herself had just woke from her spot by the hairy mans head on a pillow.
She stretched, yawning a bit, before carefully raking her nails along the
headboard. A nice pile of curled shavings was beginning to form under her
when Fluffy woke, rushing over to join her.

"Bon jour Bella!" She cried happily. "I 'ad ze mos' wonderful dream zat we
were 'ero's! We 'ad costumes and everything!"

"Really?" Bella giggled, strutting to the edge of the bed before diving off.

"Oui. An' we fought zis bad homme... I forget what his name was... he wore a
cape an' 'ad white 'air an' wore a 'elmut. He was frightening, mais, we beat
'im with out powers!" Fluffy continued excitedly, hopping down to join her
sister. "An' all ze people zat live here... zey had powers aussi!"

"Like ze girl who's 'ands you fell through?"

"Oui! An' ze white-haired femme zat made it rain. An' everyone else. One
could make fire, an' another ice." Fluffy stopped, her face losing it's
bright excitement. "Do you suppose zey are something like zat? 'Eros, I
mean?"

"I don't know, Fluffy." Bella said before they looked up to see Logan glaring
down at them.

"I'm ... you know what? Honestly don't think there's a human name fabulous
enough for me. Oh, my name will be on everyone's lips ... assuming their lips
haven't been torn off." "Glory" - Lessons - BTVS

<A
HREF="http://groups.yahoo.com/group/blackqueenphoenix">http://groups.yahoo.com/g\
roup/blackqueenphoenix</A> (owner)
<A
HREF="http://www.geocities.com/blackqueenphoenix">http://www.geocities.com/black\
queenphoenix</A> (owner)


[Non-text portions of this message have been removed]

Fabulous Fatal Felines
Part: 16/? By <A HREF="http://hometown.aol.com/purestarwater">Kelsey</A>
(shadowcatfan@...)
Previous Parts can be found: <A
HREF="http://www.fanfiction.net/read.php?storyid=853687">Fan Fiction.Net</A>

Logan glared at the cats shaving away his bed. Not that he cared all that
much. He had a headache, which was rare for the Wolverine. And, he'd just had
the weirdest dream... He staggered to the bathroom, and the kittens followed
him, twining themselves around his ankles.

"What es wrong with ze 'airy one?" Fluffy asked her compatriot. " 'E seems...
not angry today."

"True. Maybe 'e es sick?"

"But ze other person, ze doctor, she said 'e never gets sick. Remember
Bella?"

"Ah, oui. I did forget. Eh, maybe 'e did not sleep well," Logan had stopped
walking so Bella went to work clawing his ankles.

"Damn cat!" Logan picked Bella up and dangled her out his second floor
window.

//Logan. I must ask that you do not kill Scott's cat. Please bring them both
to me at your earliest convenience.//

//Thank you 'airless man!// Bella projected to the Professor.

"I'm ... you know what? Honestly don't think there's a human name fabulous
enough for me. Oh, my name will be on everyone's lips ... assuming their lips
haven't been torn off." "Glory" - Lessons - BTVS

<A
HREF="http://groups.yahoo.com/group/blackqueenphoenix">http://groups.yahoo.com/g\
roup/blackqueenphoenix</A> (owner)
<A
HREF="http://www.geocities.com/blackqueenphoenix">http://www.geocities.com/black\
queenphoenix</A> (owner)


[Non-text portions of this message have been removed]

Title: Fabulous Fatal Felines
Part: 17/? By <A HREF="www.geocities.com/blackqueenphoenix">Natalia</A>
Previous Parts can be found here: <A
HREF="http://www.fanfiction.net/read.php?storyid=853687">Fan Fiction.Net</A>
Notes: Thoughts are between // //, 'kay?
Thanks: Thanks so much for all the feedback!

Logan dressed in his X-Gear ((TM)), ready for a long Danger Room session to
shake off that stupid dream he'd had staring Scooter and his cats. It was all
his own fault, though, that he'd gotten stuck watching them. If he didn't
have it so bad for Jean, he'd of never agreed.

"Stupid cats." He growled at them, grabbing them by the scruff of their
necks. They hissed and mewled at his mishandling of them. Chuck wanted to
play "pet the kitty" for the day, and that was fine with him. Let Baldy get
attacked by the innocent looking, yet vicious scarps of fur.

He marched into the Professor's office and tossed the cats in, shutting the
door before they could run out.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Professor Xavier sat behind his desk. The two kittens were sitting atop his
desk, staring at him inquisitively. They'd been sitting there for sometime
since Logan had dumped them in his office.

He'd been using his powers to their maximum, trying to contact them the way
they had to him.

"What do you suppose 'e es trying to do, Bella?" Fluffy stifled a yawn.

"I don' know. Maybe 'e es trying to speak to us in our 'eads?"

"Per'aps. I 'ope 'e hurries. I'm very 'ungry, Bella."

"You are always 'ungry." Bella snorted.

"I cannot 'elp it. I am a growing chatton." She slunk up closer to Professor
Xavier. //Monsieur Aucun Cheveu! J'ai très faim! FEED ME!//

Professor Xavier jerked back with the sudden, and loud, French accented voice
in his mind. He fixed his eyes on the white cat as he composed himself. //If
you want to be fed, ask in the proper manner.//

//Ah-ah, Monsieur, I am a kitten, 'ow do you know zat es not proper manners
pour moi?//

// Je suis désolé, Monsieur No-'air, Fluffy, we t'ink, was left to us by
alley cats. Least zat is what Maman always said."

"Zat es not true!" Fluffy hissed at Bella, hurt by that statement. "Who was
ze only one not all blanc, huh? I t'ink zat was you, ma soeur."

" Père was grey, Dummy."

//Excuse me.// Professor Xavier interrupted. //I did not ask Logan to bring
you here so the two of you could bicker.//

//Who es Logan?// Bella and Fluffy asked.

//The hairy man.// Professor Xavier sighed. It was going to be a long
morning.

Read it? Review it. Merci Beaucoup. :)

"I'm ... you know what? Honestly don't think there's a human name fabulous
enough for me. Oh, my name will be on everyone's lips ... assuming their lips
haven't been torn off." "Glory" - Lessons - BTVS

<A
HREF="http://groups.yahoo.com/group/blackqueenphoenix">http://groups.yahoo.com/g\
roup/blackqueenphoenix</A> (owner)
<A
HREF="http://www.geocities.com/blackqueenphoenix">http://www.geocities.com/black\
queenphoenix</A> (owner)


[Non-text portions of this message have been removed]

Title: Fabulous Fatal Felines
Part: 18/? By <A HREF="http://hometown.aol.com/purestarwater">Kelsey</A>
Previous parts can be found: <A
HREF="http://www.fanfiction.net/read.php?storyid=853687">Fan Fiction.Net</A>

The Professor stared gravely at the two kittens. "Why can I hear you?" he
asked aloud.

//You do not know?// Bella inquired. //We thought you could talk to all
animals.//

//No. Just you two.//

//Zat es odd, isn't it Bella?// Fluffy asked.

// Oui, ma soeur. Does that mean WE have, 'ow do you say, powers?//

// I do not know.// The Professor admitted.

// But 'ow do we find out?// Fluffy mewed anxiously.

// I will take you down to the lab to have Hank run some experiments// the
Professor told him as something gray leaped at him.

//Mais non monsieur. We are not lab rats. We will not be forced to run mazes
and be poisoned!// Bella took a malevolent swipe at the Professor's bald
head.

//Poisson? But Bella, what's so wrong with poisson? I'm hungry!//

// Not FISH Fluffy, POISON. You eat it and you die. Ze bald 'eaded man wants
to murder us!// Bella cried frantically. Again she jabbed the Professor with
her claws.

// Oh. Too bad, and 'e seemed so nice too. Not like ze 'airy man// Fluffy
said sadly. // And I was looking forward to ze fish too.//

// Oui. I do not comprehend America. Ze nice man wants to kill us, and ze
mean man does not// Bella stabbed the Professor again impatiently.

// I DON'T WANT TO KILL YOU!!!// The Professor exclaimed. // I just want to
figure out why I can hear you.//

//'E es lying Bella. I can read 'is mind. I see us being 'eld above a big vat
of... Oh no, c'est too terrible!// Fluffy covered her eyes with her paws.

//Mal bald 'eaded man!// Bella scratched the Professor yet again. // Now you
'ave upset Fluffy. It will take 'ours to calm 'er down!//

"I'm ... you know what? Honestly don't think there's a human name fabulous
enough for me. Oh, my name will be on everyone's lips ... assuming their lips
haven't been torn off." "Glory" - Lessons - BTVS

<A
HREF="http://groups.yahoo.com/group/blackqueenphoenix">http://groups.yahoo.com/g\
roup/blackqueenphoenix</A> (owner)
<A
HREF="http://www.geocities.com/blackqueenphoenix">http://www.geocities.com/black\
queenphoenix</A> (owner)


[Non-text portions of this message have been removed]

* * * * * *  Disclaimer in part One * * * * ** *

Previous parts can be found at: www.autumnpenguins.com

A/N:  Thank you to everyone who has been following this story since
it's inception.  I hope you've all gotten a kick out of it.  I am
currently planning a sequel to it that takes  this combined universe
and adds the Lord of the Rings Universe as well……

So there will be plenty more of where this came from  ;  )

Lists:  Please reply to me at my EMAIL address.  I am now on no
mail.  If you don't get a response back, it is because I will be
gone for a month, but I will return every comment.

Thanks a lot!

( ((((((((((((((((((

Minerva McGonagall had rarely taken a task so arduous, yet
satisfying as escorting 15 haglets to Azkaban prison.  Her charges
were utterly displeased at the turn of events.  Binde was intent on
blaming every other of her minions on the failure at carrying out a
plan that would have undoubtedly brought the haglets the success and
power that they deserved.

"This is all your fault Tehby!  It was your idea to give them
oatmeal!"  Binde screamed into the air.

" Oh shut up!" the accused shot back viciously.

"Silencio" Minerva cast at the collective lot.

Instantly there was silence. "Much better" the witch muttered to
herself as the group approached the doors of the bark prison.

Minerva had a feeling that the haglets would have quieted down by
themselves naturally when they got closer to the prison.  They were
half dementor themselves, but even so Azkaban had an effect of great
power and incorporated fear into the hearts of all who entered.
Tightening the hold on the rope, which no longer worked as a port
key as security settings forbade it, Professor McGonagall rapped her
fist on the wooden doors of the prison.  A rush of cold washed over
them as three dementors glided forward.  Minerva made her case, and
informed them the haglets were too be held in the prison until it
was time for  the trial to proceed.

The hooded figure nearest the haglets eagerly took the rope and led
them into the prison. Minerva, cast the counter curse to the spell
she had placed on them, and immediately regretted it.  High pitched
screams could be heard from every single haglet as they were taken
into the prison.  Her duty done, McGonagall walked briskly to the
edge of the prison grounds.  Once outside, she immediately apparated
and appeared within the walls of Xavier's institution.  As the
mostly cheerful people spilled out of the office, Minerva noticed
Snape stalking back off to his quarters.

"I don't suppose you're going to give up until, I turn around and
speak with you." Snape said, in a tone that spoke of annoyance.

"Indeed Severus, nobody can accuse you of being slow.  Well done."

"Minerva, do come in for a spot of tea." He said, voice dripping
with sarcasam getting the distinct feeling Minerva wanted a mother-
to-son chat, which he didn't particularly feel up too.

The two wizards entered the room and Snape conjured up two steaming
mugs of tea. "It's okay to be happy Severus."  Minerva began.

"Minerva, do we really need to talk about this?"

"Yes.  Albus and I have long felt that certain elements of your own
personality, and Miss Granger's are very compatable."

"She's my student, and 20 years my junior."  he protested.

"Hermione will be graduating in a few short months.  And you know
that 20 years difference to wizards is nothing.  Albus is 70 years
older than myself."

Snape sighed, but remained quiet.

"Just keep it in mind Severus."  Minerva said before they fell into
a companionable silence.  The only sound  was the occasional sipping
of tea.

Severus neglected to ask her how the trip to Azkaban had been.  He
knew she hated that place and the dementors just slightly less than
Dumbledore.  Snape himself had been there and had no intention to
ever go back.  He admitted deep down that he deserved to be there
for his time as a death eater.  All the same he was glad his
experience there amounted to nothing more than a few days in a
holding cell during a questioning involving his days in Lord
Voldemort's service.  Dumbledore had cleared his name, and for that
he had eternal gratitude for the man.  It was one of the reasons
that he would at least consider doing anything Albus asked of him.
He wanted to get back on Minerva's good side as well, so in
addition, he took into consideration how Minerva would feel about
something. Between the two of them, he had finally felt parental
love as he'd never known with his own parents.  So, as with
everything else, he decided to take their advice and consider
Hermione more closely.



Meanwhile in the room next door, Hermione, unaware that she was
being considered in a new light by a certain dark haired man  was
carefully packing her things.  It had been agreed upon that tomorrow
morning, following breakfast the young wizards would return to
England and resume their usual studies without the aid of a time
turner.  Despite all the danger and late night study sessions for a
concoction that hadn't even been needed due to the haglets
staggering stupidity, Hermione had felt free here.  Free to joke
around, without being looked at oddly, free to stand up defiantly to
Snape as she had never attempted before, and free to talk about the
trivial and meaningless things in life with another girl.

Back at Hogwarts she had Ginny Weasley, and Lavender Brown, but none
of them were like Rogue.  She'd enjoyed an adventure independently
from Harry and Ron with Rogue, shared a prison cell and more than
one session of  'girl talk.'  It was safe to say she would miss her
new American friend.  It helped to know that Rogue would be in
England for a few days in the next month of so to give testimony at
the trial of the haglets.  McGonagall and Dumbledore had already
invited those who would be testifying accommodations at Hogwarts if
they didn't want to settle with the dull and stuffy Ministry
arrangements. A light knock on the door interrupted her thoughts.
Before she could answer, Harry and Ron came stumbling into the
room.  "Come in" she answered sardonicly.

"Bit strange to be going home isn't it?" Harry asked, voicing the
thought that had just been running through Hermione's head.

"So, you and Rogue took your shirts off, covered yourselves in
oatmeal, and broke out of prison.  Why didn't you let us know you
were going to do that?" Ron asked in indignation.

"Right Ron, the next time I plan to break out of a prison, I'll be
sure to let you know beforehand."  Hermione said, rolling her eyes.

"Just kidding you.  But seriously, what was it like having to save
Snape?"

"How did you get away with making him and Logan come back together
on the same broom and live to talk about it?" Harry asked, clearly
awed.

Her mind on other matters, Hermione eagerly told the boys the full
story of how she and Rogue had escaped from the prison, rescued
Logan and Snape and force some bonding time on them.  The three were
rolling in laughter by the time she was done speaking.


((((((((((((((((


The X-Men, wizards and students were gathered together for the last
time. When breakfast was coming to an end, Charles Xavier stood
up.  "If I may have your attention please everyone" he began waiting
the few seconds till the hall died down to continue speaking.  "I'm
afraid that we are loosing four fine people that have been with us
for the past few weeks. Certainly you have all heard what went on
last night, and are aware that our four guests are not who they
appeared to be.  Hermione Granger, Ronald Weasley, Harry Potter and
Severus Snape, are wizards from England and will be leaving us this
morning.  They helped us in unimaginable ways last night, and we owe
them a debt of gratitude.  Please give them a solid round of
applause."


The cafeteria broke into loud whistles and cheers from the mutants,
and the three young wizards were beaming.  Snape of course, always
aloof, merely nodded his head in reciprocation to the attention.
His eyes scanned the room, and caught Logan glaring heavily at him
from his place at Rogue's side, who was also flanked by Hermione.
He scowled at the trio, and was greeted by two tongues sticking out
at him.  "Ten points from Gryffindor" he mouthed to Hermione, who
simply rolled her eyes.  Clearly he had lost his intimidating status
while abroad, which he intended to rectify as soon as they returned
to England.  He wouldn't take cheek from students, even if they were
cute.

Rogue and Hermione grinned at one another from the look they
received from the English wizard.  "He likes you.  Give him hell"
Logan said directly at Hermione.  "Practically cried when he found
out you were missing."

"I heard you were pretty calm yourself Logan" Rogue teased.

"That's different.  Eat your breakfast, see you later." He said
before rising, and squeezing her shoulders as he walked away.

"Men are such babies" Hermione laughed.

"I know, it's terrible.  Just think what it would be like if they
ran the world." Rogue snickered.

"Well we know that periods would be reason enough for sick leave."
Hermione continued.

"Disturbing as that thought is, Miss Granger we must be going."
Snape said silkily.

Hermione's cheeks went pink and Rogue began laughing
uncontrollably.

"Come out to the yard when you're finished.  I've taken the liberty
of moving your trunk out there already." he said gruffly before
slinking off.

"It's been…" Hermione trailed off, looking at Rogue.

"It really has.  It was great to meet you Hermione."

"Same yourself.  I really wish you could come back with us. I think
you'll like it."  Hermione told her.

"I'll be there for the testimony." She said brightly.

"Yeah. Let's keep in touch shall we?"

"Sure, write me when you get back. Or do you have an e-mail?"

"No. We don't use electricity, you'll have to see it too believe
it."  Hermione said, grinning at Rogue's astonished look.

"I'll write you though, I think you'll find it, interesting" she
said, thinking of Rogue's reaction to an owl delivering her letter
at breakfast."

Hermione reached over and hugged Rogue, with no hesitation.  Logan
smiled to himself by the look of surprise and joy that crossed her
face at such a simple act.  He kinda wished the girl could stay
here, she was good for Marie.  But on the upside, he was getting rid
of the black bat.  He'd dubbed him that since  their little flying
adventure.  He had to admit that Snape did seem to know what he was
doing on a broomstick, but his likeness to the night creature was
uncanny.

Logan walked away from the hall, and finally towards his classroom.
The cafeteria cleared, the bell rang and life went on as usual as it
ever did in a school full of mutants.  Outside the four, wizards
gathered together and prepared to leave.  "Finally, free of
muggles." Snape said in what was a cheerful voice from him.

"We'll be seeing them soon" Hermione reminded him.

"What a treat that will be." Snape said as he put the following
touches on the port key.  The four wizards grabbed ahold of the
trunk and vanished into thin air.



-   Fin

( Disclaimer in part one )
The sequel to this: The Dark Heart can be found at
www.autumnpenguins.com  and Fanfiction.net  under `PearlyJammer'
The third instalment of this series will be written when I return
from Merry England ,: )
* * * * * *


Come up  to meet you, tell you I'm sorry
You don't know how lovely you are
I had to find you
Tell you I need you
Tell you I set you apart

Tell me your secrets
And ask me your questions
Oh let's go back to the start
	 Rogue ran as fast as she possibly could.  A mile away she
finally stopped to think about all that had happened.  She had left
him there,  to die.  Logan would never have done that too her, it
was wrong.  It was something Erik would do, or Victor.  It was
wrong, she had disappointed him.  It didn't matter that she was
scared. It didn't matter that she had just killed a man.  What
mattered was Logan.  He had got her through everything.  He kept her
alive, he saved her life, he was everything.  And she had paid him
back by running like a fucking coward.
	 Pissed at herself, she set her determination to set off
after him.  She still had the blood claw clutched tightly in her
hand.  It wasn't much, but it was a chance.  She could kill again if
she had too, she knew that.  Logan, she had to think of Logan.
Surely there was somebody else at the compound.  As that thought
crossed her mind, she heard the distinct roar of an engine.  From
behind came a grey SUV, speeding madly towards the complex.  She
dove out of site and watched it speed by.  Rogue waited for another
few minutes before she was certain that there was nothing else
coming.
	 Her blood pounded in her ears and her skin felt on fire.
She was thinking clearly.  It was cold and calculated, she'd learned
a great deal from Logan and Erik on how to deal with tough
situations.  Detachment, she could be detached.  It was the right
thing to do that she was going back there.  Logan told her not too,
but he would die if she stayed where she was.  It was a tough call
either way.  One that she had to think through carefully.  Erik
would walk away. Logan would defy orders.  It took her a split
second before she put her foot down and ran back towards the
complex.
	 100 meters away she slowed to a walk.  Her body was shaking,
muscles protesting at more exercise than they'd had in many, many
months.  But the adrenaline was stronger. It gave her fuel, it
pushed her to the edge.  Exactly where she needed to be.  She
stopped dead 20 feet from the perimeter.  There was something wrong,
she'd made a mistake.

It was a trap.



Running in circles
Coming up tails
Heads on a silence apart

Nobody said it was easy
It's such a shame for us to part
Nobody said it was easy
No one ever said it would be this hard

Oh take me back to the start

	 Mystique smiled cruely.  All the players were in place.
Logan was strapped down to the table, her assistants were on their
way, and best of all, the little girl was running right where she
wanted her.  The little bitch had killed Erik.  She didn't love him
by any stretch of the word.  She didn't love anybody, but that
didn't mean she wasn't flat out pissed about it.  The girl would pay
and it would be wonderful.  Mystique watched with a purely malicious
smile on her face as the girl realized she was in trouble.  But it
was too late for her, before she knew what was happening two men
were on top of her, dragging her back into the complex.

	 On Mystique's orders,  the girl was brought into the studio
and tied into a chair.  Mystique watched her face as she saw Logan
being rolled into the room, 10 feet from where she was.  The gurney
rolled in after him made her pale.  An assortment of knives, saws
and other surgical equipment was on the gurney.  She got no reaction
out of the Wolverine.  He knew what was coming.  The girl's face was
enough for both of them.  She screwed her eyes closed, openly
sobbing, whispering prayers for forgiveness.
	 "Logan, I'm sorry.  Oh God let him go." She pleaded through
body wrenching sobs.
	 "You shouldn't have come back Marie"  his voice hard and
clipped.
	 Marie could only imagine the horror of what lay in front of
him. He knew he was about to die, and it would be an excrutiatingly
painful death.  "I don't want her to see this." Logan said firmly.
	 "I didn't want the little bitch to kill Erik.  I didn't even
want Vic to die, useless as he was" Mystique spoke as she glided
forward.
	 "You're little girlie is going to watch you die, and there's
nothing you can do about it." the scaly mutant said coldly.
	 "Open your eyes," she told Rogue.
	 "No." Rogue remained defiant.
	 "Open them, or I will see to it that he takes hours to die."
Mystique said impatiently.
	 Rogue's eyes immediately opened.  "This is why you never
become attached to anybody.  It leaves you weak, and vulnerable.
Nobody else looks after you. It's your job." She said softly as she
pulled on a double pair of surgical gloves.  She forced Rogue's
eyelids up and taped them open.  She repeated the process with the
lower lids until it was impossible to close her eyes.
	 "You'll remember this forever." Mystique said cruely before
nodding to the men to begin.



I was just guessing
At numbers and figures
Pulling your puzzles apart
Questions of science
Science and progress
Do not speak as loud as my heart

Tell me you love me
Come back and haunt me
Oh and I rush to the start
Running in circles
Chasing our tails
Coming back as we are

	 The screams that resonated in the room  that day were all
things.  Pain, fear, horror, hatred, terror, and the unimaginable.
Mystique had trained two video cameras onto the two earlier.  One
was above Logan, to give her an exact picture of what was
happening.  Every cut, every incision, every puncture was recorded
for her viewing pleasure.  The second camera was trained on Rogue,
and in a way this was in Mystique's opinion even better.  She
watched the emotions play across the girl's face.  Hate chasing
terror, fear replaced by anguish.  Tears spilled from her open eyes
and her horse screams filled the error until she tore her voice into
silence.
	 Logan's death was long and drawn out.  The pain of the
knife, the saw, and every other tool used on him was magnified by
the fact that Marie was witnessing this. He was in the most intesnt
pain a human being can experience, and a 17 year old girl was forced
to watch all of it.  He was helpless, and unable to keep his mind
straight for the burning of his muscles, tendons, and flesh.  The
healing factor was over taxed.  There was no way it could cope with
the torture being inflicted upon him.  Wounds weren't healing, blood
was spilling from his body, and there seemed to be no end.  A knife
jabbed at him until it's jagged cutting had no effect, muscles and
bones were sewn through, and he could see a sea of red dribbling
everywhere.
	 Marie's pleas for them to stop filled his ears until the
only thing he heard was the rise and fall of her shrill notes.  As
it grew more distant, the pain lessened.  He felt it ending, his
body was giving up.  There was too much damage, too little blood,
and he felt increasingly drowsy.  His head rolled to the right, and
he took in her face.  Eyes open in terror, blotches from tears, and
terror etched into every line. He wanted to speak, tell her it was
going to be okay, but he couldn't.  It was getting easier to just
drift away from her face.  It faded to a dull blur until there was
nothing.
	 Marie saw the light drain out of his eyes.  He was gone.
The pain was finally over for him.  The sadists threw down their
instruments.  She saw one take out what looked like a hand held
voice recorder, and give dictation.  One began collecting the
instruments, and the third walked over towards her.  She sat there,
not knowing what to do.  Her claw was gone, she had no defence,
nowhere to go, nowhere to run, and now nobody to turn too.  It was
her, versus him.  She would be next.  They were going to take the
tools away and clean them, and use them on her.
	 Instead, he just cut her loose, and ripped off the tape.
Logan's blood was on his hands, and now it was on her face.  Logan's
blood.  He was dead.  They had killer him.  Logan's blood was on
their hands, but they never saw it coming.

She saw red.


Nobody said it was easy
Oh it's such a shame for us to part
Nobody said it was easy
No one ever said it would be so hard

I'm going back to the start

-Fin-

The Night Grows Ever Colder        By Nadja Lee 07/12/02
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. After the movie. AU

Universe: Set in the movie universe; NOT the book which goes with it.

Romance: Logan/Rogue

Summary: The death of a dream, the bittersweet illusion of love. Poemlike.

Archiving: Want, ASK, take,  have.

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

Rating: PG-13/R

Author’s notes: A dark poem because I’m depressed. For Autumn because she
encouraged me to try writing poetry.

*                                          *
*

Logan, come to me

I can’t walk any further

Shh, don’t speak

Not a word, my love



All will be all right

You’re strong

You will live on

Your cheek is so wet

Is it raining?



Can you hear?

Music and singing

Can you see?

Darkness is coming

Closer and closer



We have fought for so long

I can fight no longer

Don’t ask it of me

Don’t ask what I can’t give



I have lost so much

But you have always been there

To guide me

To protect me



Hold me now

Please, stay with me

Keep me warm

The night feels so cold



My love, this is what was meant to be

Don’t fight what can’t be changed

I’m a peace now

I don’t feel any pain anymore



I hear music

Do you hear it?

Soft and gentle

It grows stronger



I feel the night move in

I feel the darkness grow closer

Are you still with me?

I can’t see you anymore



Your words die in the air

I can’t hear them

The singing is so loud

It’s such a sweet sound



I feel so cold

Is it cold?

I feel so tired

So tired



Tell me, tell me

Where are we?

Where are we going?

I seem to have forgotten



That’s nice

We’re in a flowery field

It’s summer and warm

It’s peaceful and birds sing

Yes, that does sound nice



I’m not afraid anymore

I can’t feel the cold

Are your arms around me?

Holder me closer

I can’t feel you



I feel the darkness grow

Ever closer

Ever darker

Ever stronger



I have no regrets

I have no words to say to you

But this you’ll always know

I loved you till the end



The light is dimming now

I feel my eyelids grow ever heavier

I’ll rest now

Just for a while



Stay with me till I fall asleep

Hold me close

I just need to rest for a little while

I just need to close my eyes

Just for a moment



Her eyes closed

She lay still in his arms

She looked happier

More at peace

Than she had in years



He lifted her up

Carried her in his arms

He fought down the pain

In his heart

As he cradled her close to his chest



She had been the last

The last link

His last hope

Everyone else where gone



She had never recovered

From the massacre

Where they had lost so many

Yet somehow her maddened mind

Had kept him sane



He had never wanted to believe

Human intolerance

Human stupidity

Could be so devastating and cruel



He had learned the hard way

That hope was dying

Light was fading

A dream was dead and buried



He turned with her in his arms

And heard what she had thought was music

They came closer

Yet he couldn’t leave her

She was all he had left



Scott faced the tanks

As they rolled towards him

Through the shoot down town

Marie still in his arms



He would not leave her

He could not

He had given a friend a promise

And he intended to honour it



The words he had spoken then

The promise given to a friend

To a brother in arms

Made it clear what he had to do



“I promised her…. I would always take care of her. Don’t let me break my word.
Keep that promise for me.”



And he intended to

He intended to







The End

A Very Merry Crimbo :

Author: Alana

Feedback: Sure, to alana_helbling@...

Disclaimer: not mine, I’m just borrowing them, although I’m more than willing to
kiss the boo-boos that I inflict better before I return them.

Category: Humour, with R/L overtones.

Summary: Logan, Christmas Eve and a rebellious turkey – or turkeys depending on
how you look at it.

Warning: Silly fic, sorry, the fact that my frightens-the-shit-out-of-me form
tutor is wearing a Santa hat on her head is getting to me.

Author’s Notes: Thanks very much for all the feedback for ‘Misunderstandings’ –
it was kinda overwhelming! Someone asked for a sequel involving Remy and Jubes,
but I have to confess I don’t feel secure enough in these characters to do one,
so I guess there’s a plot bunny going free to a good home, for anyone that wants
it. This is dedicated to my sis’, whose bad mood due to mock exams has been
throwing bunnies at me from right, left and centre. I’m not sure if I love or
hate her for that.







Logan was worried. Very worried. As a matter of fact, he was terrified, but he
was damned if he would show it.

Everyone knew Christmas this year would have to be rather quiet when the
professor got ill. Nothing life threatening, but enough that he required around
the clock attendance from Jean. Then Scott came down with the same thing. And
finally, a young alpha mutant had been discovered who had powers with more than
a passing similarity to Marie’s, so she had had to go with the remaining adults
to pick him up. Their promises that they’d only be gone a few hours soon became
void when a giant snowstorm swept into their area and left them stranded. As
Storm had informed them at midday on Christmas eve, to interfere with this
particular storm, which was annoying although not life threatening, would
undoubtedly cause floods elsewhere in the world which would have fatalities, and
therefore there was nothing that could be done but wait it out. It ought to
clear out in time for them to arrive back very early Christmas morning. So it
soon became clear that Logan would be spending Christmas Eve, alone, in a house
full of children, with only a handful of adolescents to help him.

Yeah, terrified just about covered it.

*It should not be too arduous, Logan* the professor’s mental voice sounded
rather reedy, despite the fact that his illness shouldn’t be affecting it. *A
list of what has to be done and when is stuck to the refrigerator, along with
book and page references in the cases of cooking. Most of the work should
consist of amusing the children. Oh and by the way, don’t forget the Yule log
needs to be arranged.* Logan could have sworn he heard the telepath chuckle at
his loud cussing as he realised exactly what that would entail. Fire and
children should never mix, was his firm belief. Bellowing at the top of his
lungs, he summoned what would be his help for the weekend. Within a few minutes,
Jubilee, Kitty, Bobby, Johnny and Remy had assembled in the kitchen. He glared
at them, aware that none of this was their fault, but not really being able to
stop himself from taking it out on them.

"Right, we’re the only ones left so we gotta take care of the kids. You ‘amuse’
them, and I’ll take care of whatever is on the list. If either of us needs any
help, yell." Upon receiving nods from all concerned parties, he menacingly
looked first at them, and then the door, and they scuttled out of the kitchen.
Still scowling, he stalked over to the refrigerator and looked at the first
item.

1) Feed the turkey.

When the vegetarians at the mansion had loudly protested at the fact they would
be having a traditional Christmas dinner, the professor had reached a compromise
by promising that not only would there be a vegetarian alternative, but that a
live turkey would be bought and ‘saved from slaughter’ as Auroro had shouted, as
repayment for the one they would eat. And so, a run with a heated floor and
hutch was duly built, and the bird, christened ‘Waffles’ installed inside.

But this was no ordinary turkey. This bird had homicidal tendencies. It was well
known for charging at whoever came near it. When the professor held a small
informal ‘opening and welcoming ceremony’ for Waffles, it’s attempts to remove
his eye had been unforeseen, and thus, nearly successful. Bobby still bore a
bruised collar bone from when it’s last assassination attempt consisted of
trying to jump off the hutch roof onto him, and when that had only caused a
glancing blow, chasing him around the run, until he was forced to admit defeat,
drop the entire bag of feed and scramble for the door. But this didn’t worry
Logan. Grabbing the bag of feed and a bucket of water, he headed outside.
Trudging through the slush until he reached the run, he opened the door, stepped
inside and closed it again. He picked up the feed in one hand, bucket in the
other, and walked towards the trough. He never had a chance as the large, and
fairly heavy fowl, launched itself at him and grabbed hold of the easiest part
to reach – his groin. Logan did the first thing that came to mind – and hit it
with the bucket in his hand. The resultant was that the previously flightless
bird now found itself airborne, still with a large amount of Logan’s jeans and
boxers clamped in it’s beak (although his more important parts had thankfully
escaped amputation). Hurriedly, he dumped the food and water in the appropriate
places and ran for the door, slamming it shut, and locking it before heading
back inside. Deciding he’d better change his trousers before he attempted
anything else, he rounded the corner of the corridor, to run slap bang into the
still healthy population of the school, most of whom were about waist – and
other places – high. Ignoring the dropped jaws of Kitty and Jubilee, and the
envious glares of the boys, he slammed his hands over the offending exposed
flesh, and then the Wolverine did something he’d never before done in his life
and ran to his room.

Changed into new jeans, and trying to forget about Jubilee’s waggled eyebrows
and audible comments about how unfair it was that Marie got to open her package
early, Logan inspected the list again.

2) Help the children with their Christmas lists.

3) Set up the fire and prepare the Yule log.

Logan sighed, and headed into the lounge where the children were sitting in a
glorious mess of felt tip pens, brightly coloured paper, glue and scissors.
Ignoring the still grinning Jubilee, he walked up to Kitty and asked if they
were handling the kids all right. Blushing and unable to look him in the face,
kitty replied that they were doing fine.

"Good. Well, in that case, I’m gonna go set up the fire, OK?" He didn’t wait for
her nod before going into the next room to complete his assigned task. Finishing
up, he banked the fire so it would last a good couple more hours and headed back
into the kitchen to read the list one more time.

4) Make glaze for turkey.

5) Glaze turkey.

6) Put turkey in oven.

Wrinkling his nose in disgust, Logan opened every window in the kitchen and it’s
nearby vicinity. Cooking was never easy to a nose as sensitive as his, and any
extra ventilation would come in handy. Pulling down the recipe book, he turned
to the appropriate page, and inspected it. It seemed pretty straightforward
compared to some of the dishes he’d been privy to watching Marie whip up over
the time they’d been together. He was living with someone who’d spent one and
half-hours lecturing him on the importance of the food to the continuation of
Christmas tradition, especially the turkey. If he couldn’t do this, what sort of
a pansy was he?

Grabbing a mixing bowl, and the ingredients, he soon learnt that appearances
were deceiving. Half an hour later, he heaved a silent sigh of relief as he
managed to produce something that matched the description in the book. The
kitchen was a mess, with half full bowls lying over the counter at random
points, and one of his failed attempts had ended up spilt on the floor, but he
had done it.

And a good thing too – if this one had gone wrong, he’d have had to run out to
the store to get some more ingredients. Carefully applying the glaze, he studied
the advice on cooking times – 5 hours now, and a final two tomorrow morning to
finish it off, he read.

‘OK’, he thought, ‘5 hours it will be’, and with infinite care bent down to
slide the turkey into the oven. One problem became immediately apparent – it
wasn’t going to fit. A tentative shove did no good at all. Neither did a more
determined one. Logan snarled, put his weight behind it and pushed. His feet
slipped in the glaze still lying on the floor and he fell forwards, taking the
turkey with him. He and the tray hit the floor with a moments difference between
them, but that was sufficient for him to land on the edge of tray, tipping it
up, and sending the turkey flying out of the open window behind him, through the
thin sheet of ice covering the pond in courtyard, where it sank out of sight.
Logan could do nothing but stare in disbelief.

Which he did.

Then he swore.

A lot.

Then he tried to suppress the beserker rage in order to think.

He still had another glaze to do another bird, but what other bird was a
problem. Marie had impressed upon him the importance of having a turkey at
Christmas, but where the hell was he going to find another one? With grim
realisation, his gaze slowly fell on Waffles’ run, where the unfortunate fowl
was amusing himself. His expression set, Logan unsheathed his claws and walked
outside.

"Bogan, bot are you doing?" came a rather stuffed up voice from the outside
door, carrying to Logan’s sensitive ears as he stood in the wreckage that had
been the turkey run. He was covered from head to foot in mud, plant debris and
patches of feed, with the occasional feather here and there – including one that
was sticking out of his ear. His facial expression rivalled the one Hank had
worn when he had discovered that the report he’d been working on for six months
had accidently been deleted when Remy had tried to download porn on Hank’s
computer.

"Our damn lunch met when an accident, so I’m tryin’ to rustle up an understudy,
and what are you doing up Slim?" Marie’d kill him if Scooter got even worse,
reflected Logan ruefully.

"Jean’s asleeb, so I had to get my owd drink, and deres and emergency turkey in
duh freezer. Duh professor always buys one, just in case, but don’t tell Storm."

"Oh. Thanks."

Having gotten his point across, Scott nodded sleepily and headed back upstairs.
Logan began to trudge into the house. As the door closed, Waffles emerged,
crossed the courtyard unseen, and disappeared into the woods at the back of the
house.

Eventually the turkey went in the oven – defrosted, thanks to Johnny, and
glazed, hacked into pieces (and some would say it was done with unnecessary
vigour) and wrapped in tinfoil by Logan. Cleaning up the mess he’d made with the
glaze, Logan carefully prepared the rest of the food, and left it covered at the
back of the counter to go into the oven when it was needed. Thankfully, All of
the children were settled down quietly in the lounge, so lighting the Yule log
and placing all the carefully decorated into ‘Santa’s post box’ went without
incident. Kitty and Jubilee had used the small staff kitchen to mass-produce
chicken nuggets, fish fingers and chips for their dinner, and then the sleepily
excited children were put to bed. As the dormitory doors closed, a look of
mutual understanding passed between the babysitters, and without a word, they
retreated to their own rooms, and as one, fell on their beds and fell asleep.
Logan never really slipped into a deep sleep until the sun began to peek over
the horizon, having risen a total of three times during the night – once to take
out the turkey, and twice to deal with kid/bathroom related incidents. He did,
however, stir as an exhausted Marie slipped into bed with him. Barely able to
keep his eyes open, he somewhere found the energy to turn to her and say

"Marie, new ground rule. We’ll be having kids someday, but we’re waiting a while
first." Marie, all too aware of what Logan had finally realised, nodded
sleepily, and slid into his arms, and they both fell asleep, blissfully unaware
of the shrieks of excited children coming from downstairs.








---------------------------------
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Check out The Fast & Loose Title Challenge: Write a fic - any pairing, any
fandom, slash or het or slash *and* het - based on pulp fiction titles. Here's
the website: http://www.fandomnation.com/fastloose.html

And check out those titles graphics... all the pinups and hot, naughty babes
you could desire.

So come on. Join in.

Everybody's doing it.

Just write a fic and send DD the link.

victoria

Title: Lucky Lolly
Author: Natalia Melissa Vronsky
Web-Page:  <A HREF="www.geocities.com/blackqueenphoenix">blackqueenphoenix</A>
Rating: Hummm... PG-15 or R for heavy innuendo. :)
Summary: I think it could fit in any of the X-Men verses. Short Gambit POV
fic. If I give a summary it'll give the plot away. But the title does kinda
give it away. Gambit/Rogue-ness. :)
Notes: I'd been thinking about this for a while, so it only took me about a
fifteen minutes to write up. Any errors will eventually be fixed... I just
wanted to post it and my betas weren't online when I needed them.
Disclaimer: Marvel owns all. I own very little. Please don't sue me, I'm not
making anything off this.
Archive: If you've archived my stuff before, then you can archive this.
Otherwise, if you wanna archive it, just lemme know where its headed, 'kay?
Reviews: Reviews makes nice Christmas presents. :D

Bon Dieu, above. Does dis femme even know dat she's gonna be de death of me?
Maybe it's a rightful punishment for all de femmes I've ever been wit'.

Her pink tongue keeps dartin' out from between does beautiful lips of hers.
Running ever so slowly over de slightly ridged surface... makes me wanna
moan. I shut my eyes tightly as her head moves on my lap. Dieu, Dieu, Dieu.

I grab a handful of her silky hair. I open my eyes t'see her continue
lickin'... up an' down. Up an' down. Her lips glossy, covered with sweet
juices. She stops what she's doin' for a second and licks her lips. "Mmmmm."
She purrs. My Rogue, she purrs like a little kitty-cat sometimes. I'm almost
'fraid to bring it up to her. She has so many adorable traits dat she hides
if pointed out to her.

After she finished lickin' her lips clean, she goes back to lickin'... only
now she was alternatin' with licks and sucks. My eyes cross an' I stop my
hips from buckin' after she sucks long an' hard.

She stops to giggle. Her attention completely focused on de TV. Dat's
probably de only reason she'd been usin' my lap for a pillow all dis time.

I'm not sure if I should be glad or not dat she seemed to forget de lolly-pop
she'd been eatin'. On de one hand... it's not fair dat anything gets to have
her lips on it when I can't. On de other hand... dat was more arousin' den
anything I've ever seen in my life. Considerin' de things I've seen... dat's
really sayin' something.

Though it's kinda sad I may be very seriously envious of a lolly-pop. I let
out a long, gusty sigh.

Rogue stiffens on my lap. She rolls from her side, away from de TV an' onto
her back an' looks up at me. "Somethin' wrong, Sugah?"

Oui. You shouldn't lay on my lap doin' dat. "No, Cherie, nothin's wrong."

"What was the sigh for then?" She seems a little concerned. An' maybe just a
little worried. Roguie... she's always worried dat she's doin' something
wrong when it comes to "us". She always seems t'worry when dere's nothin' to
worry 'bout. Sure I have a ragin' hard-on, mais, I'd suffer dat kind of
physical pain to have her so close t'me without her pushin' me 'way.

"Nothin' ma amour, honest."

She gets up. My jeans hot where her head had been rested. After a second she
curls up at my side... head resting on my shoulder. I turn my head and kiss
de top of her hair. I love dis femme more den life itself...

Now dat is jus' not fair.

Damn girl's back at sucking and lickin' dat lolly-pop for all it's worth.
Mais... I can' help but think dat may be a good thing pour moi come de day
when she gets control of her powers, neh?

Fini.

Be kind... review. :)

"I'm ... you know what? Honestly don't think there's a human name fabulous
enough for me. Oh, my name will be on everyone's lips ... assuming their lips
haven't been torn off." "Glory" - Lessons - BTVS

<A
HREF="http://groups.yahoo.com/group/blackqueenphoenix">http://groups.yahoo.com/g\
roup/blackqueenphoenix</A> (owner)
<A
HREF="http://www.geocities.com/blackqueenphoenix">http://www.geocities.com/black\
queenphoenix</A> (owner)


[Non-text portions of this message have been removed]

I'm planning a major archive update as of this New Year's.

Normally I track down all the stories I want and ask people
separately for them, but in this case there's so damn many of them I
don't think I can. So I'm putting out an all-call, instead.

If you have written stories featuring any of the following as main
characters:

Magneto
Mystique
Charles Xavier
a significant AU to comics fic of an Elseworlds nature (ie, what if
Rogue were a princess in a fantasy world, not what if Scott went
blind)
Doug Ramsey (he's a comics character, and he's dead, so I'm not
expecting any of him in movieverse, but if anyone has adapted him for
movieverse I would like to see the story)

and would like to see them on my archives, please email me at
alara@... . (Don't post here! Keep the mods happy,
please!) Let me know the story name, and if you have an HTML copy you
can email it to me (or better yet email me a link to it if you
already have it online), but if you posted it here I can get it from
the back logs if you prefer, as long as I have a name.

I will note that I'm being more selective now. Stories where Charles
Xavier behaves in a villainous manner will have to be exceptionally
well written (Khaki, I did ask you for those two where Xavier gets
Logan injured so he can walk again, didn't I? If not that's exactly
the sort of thing I mean by well written, and I'd like them); stories
where Magneto is a villain are fine, since he is one, but stories
where he is nothing but a ranting psycho lunatic are not likely to
interest me unless very well written. Pretty much anything about
Mystique is still ok.

My archives are housed at http://www.alara.net/crossx.html , if you
want to check them out.

AN ACCIDENTAL INTERCEPTION
Of Fate: Like Agamemnon
Minisinoo
http://www.themedicinewheel.net/accidental/aiof12.html


Notes: Not a pleasant chapter; apologies if any details of Fort Tryon
Park are askew.  Yes, the eye is from the upcoming Hulk film, though
my Banner is obviously quite different from that one (beyond being a
geneticist there, too).  Unfortunately, images of the cgi-Hulk are
being strictly guarded, so it was the eye or Lou Ferrigno.  No, at
this point in time, the X-Jet does not yet have jumpjet capabilities.

----------------------

Henry McCoy knew that something was seriously wrong as soon as he
awoke in his own bed and saw Frank half-dozing in the chair at his
desk.  It wasn’t the presence of Frank that alarmed him, but the
decidedly different feel of his own body that extended beyond any
cotton-fuzzy effect of pain meds.  He felt larger, stuffed like a
teddy bear, and a spinning-dizzy chill flashed through his limbs as
he stared at the ceiling a moment, watching the ripple of evening
shadows from the dancing limbs of the black hickory beyond his
bedroom window.  Finally, he said, “Fff--  Fffanses . . . sssses . .
. co?”  He could make neither an “r” nor a “ch” sound.

Jerking awake, Frank uncrossed his legs and arms, then smiled.  But
it was sad.  Frank’s smiles were often sad.  “Welcome back.”  Rising,
he came over to perch on the edge of Hank’s bed.  “Are you in pain?”

“No.  But, I fffeeel odd.  Cannntalk.”  In point of fact, his tongue
felt too large for his mouth, or his teeth were . . . different.
That was it -- his teeth were different.  Was he missing some?  But
no, running his tongue over them, he met a full wall of slick enamel,
but very sharp.  My God, he thought, I have incisors.

Well, everyone had incisors.  But not like these.

What on earth had happened?  He started to struggle up, but Frank’s
hand on his shoulder pushed him back.  “Lie still.  You are wounded.
The doctors sewed you back together from the pieces.”  Abruptly he
grinned.  “Well, not so quite.  I am Italian; I am allowed to
exaggerate.  But you must not begin new bleeding, no?”

“Wwwhat happ--happen’d?”

“An accident.  You remember the explosions, yes?”  Hank nodded and
Frank sighed.  Here came the difficult part.  Your own fault, he
thought.  He’d had the power to stop it, and hadn’t.  But everyone
had to make choices.

Before he could go on, however, Henry asked, “Shhheen?  Buce?”

“Jean is fine.  Bruce . . . we do not know.”  Well, he knew, but he
would keep that to himself yet.

“What ten?  Tell me.  And how long out?”

Already Henry was adjusting to the changes in his mouth.  It would
take time, but he’d relearn how to talk.

“We do not know what happened, not past the obvious.  You haven’t
been unconscious so long, not two hours since we came back.”  There
was no putting it off, so he reached down to raise one of Hank’s
hands into his friend’s field of vision.  “There are changes, Henri.”

And the expressions that chased across Hank’s face pierced Francesco.
  Confusion, horror, pain, fear -- disgust.  He started to rise again
but Frank pushed him down once more, and weak still, he didn’t fight.
  But his eyes were terrified.  “Mihah, mihoh, mi . . .”

“Mirror,” Frank said for him.  “Lie still.  I will find one.”

In fact, he’d brought one along from the room that he shared with
Ororo, an antique tooled, brass-backed hand mirror, small enough to
avoid a whole-body effect.  It was sometimes better, he reflected, if
shocks came in digestible bites.  He handed the mirror to Hank, who
stared into it a long while, then dropped it reflective side down on
the bed’s blanket and turned his face away.

“You are still Henri McCoy,” Frank told him.  “This” -- he indicated
Henry’s new form -- “changes nothing of the you that matters.”

“Why?” Hank asked.  “Why did it happen?”

“It was the machine, I am thinking.”

And Hank pondered that because knowledge was Henry McCoy’s god, the
solace he’d always sought for the differences that had set him apart
from the very beginning.  He could recall seeing the gravimagnetic
field escape the GFG containment cylinder and spread outward,
enveloping Ted Roberts and moving beyond even as the machine itself
had cracked apart under pressure.  He’d leapt over the table to knock
Jean and Bruce to the floor, but that had been to save them from the
shrapnel of a disintegrating machine, not from the field.

“Sheen -- ?” Then in frustration, he shook his head and mimed
writing.  Frank nodded and fetched a yellow pad and pen from the desk
while Hank studied his hands, now covered with very short, dense,
pale-lapis-blue fur everywhere except the palms, the skin of which
had thickened and turned a darker royal shade.  But otherwise, their
shape hadn’t changed; they were as outsized as they’d always been.

You were born a freak, Henry McCoy, he thought bitterly as he took
the paper from Frank to scribble, “Has Jean changed?”

Frank shook his head, and Hank breathed out in relief, then wrote,
“My mutation must never have completed itself.  That’s what the GFG
was supposed to do:  trigger recessive or incomplete mutations.  I
was born with a physical mutation, but it must never have reached its
intended conclusion.”  He stopped, twisted the pen a moment, then
added, “This is what I’m supposed to be.”

He remembered the face in the mirror. “What beast haff I become?” he
muttered.

“Yourself,” Frank told him softly.  Reaching out, he took the writing
tools from Henry and laid them down on the bedside, then took Hank’s
hand and held it up, placing his own against it, palm-to-palm.  Not
only was Henry’s hand larger, but the fingers were longer, more
apelike.  “You are our friend,” Frank said.  “We will find the way
through this, and we shall not forsake you.”

“My caheeah?”

Frank held up the pad with his free hand.  “Words.  You still have
your words, mi amico.  You have still published more articles this
year than anyone else in your specialization.  You are still Henri
McCoy.”  He released Hank’s hand and eyed him.  “You are not a beast.
  Unless it is the Cookie Monster.”

And despite himself, Hank laughed.  Then he cried.  Frank sat with
him for a long time, saying nothing else as shadows lengthened and
the sun went down in watercolor streaks of blood red, obscene orange,
and the deep purple of a bruise.





“Something terrible has happened to Bruce!”

Jean was shouting it almost before she got in the main foyer door,
Warren right on her heels.  Caught in rush-hour traffic, it had taken
them almost two hours to get back to Westchester from midtown, and
the grandfather clock in the hallway was about to chime seven.

“Professor!” Jean called.  “Professor!  Something has happened to
Bruce!”

Everyone on the first floor came running, Xavier in his chair the
last to arrive, and right there on the grey-veined foyer marble, Jean
laid down a selection of papers that she’d printed out earlier and
had been studying in the car on the drive back.  “Here, here and
here!” she said, pointing to three lines of numbers that, of course,
meant absolutely nothing to anyone else present.

“Begin at the beginning, Jean,” the professor suggested.

Looking up from where she knelt, she met his eyes.  “What happened to
Hank.  It happened to Bruce, too.  I’m almost sure of it.  That wave
mutated them.  I wouldn’t have thought of it, if I hadn’t seen Hank
in the hospital but -- ”  Abruptly, she interrupted herself to ask,
“How is Hank?”

“Hank is fine,” said a new voice on the main spiral staircase.
Having heard the shouting below, Francesco and Henry had come to
investigate and now Frank was helping him down the stairs.

“Hank!” Jean yelled, darting up the stairs to throw her arms around
him with great enthusiasm, if no little care.  It wasn’t the
reception he’d expected, but it was the one he’d needed, and he put
an arm around her, too, hugging her back.

“What papeas?” he asked, still adjusting to the new teeth.

“Copies of the printouts that Bruce was showing us earlier.”

“Let me see.”

So Jean and Frank helped him to descend the rest of the way, then sat
him down on the final step so that Jean could move the papers closer,
pointing out the crucial results.  “What haffened to Buce?” he asked,
almost idly, as he picked up and shuffled through the printouts.
Focus, focus, he thought.  The papers gave him something on which to
focus the one thing that hadn’t changed -- his mind.

“I’m not sure exactly,” Jean explained, glancing back at Warren.  “I
didn’t see him.  I’m not entirely sure it was him but --” she
gestured silently at Hank, who just stared at her a moment.  “He’s
green.”

“Green?” the rest echoed.

“Big and green,” Warren added, “or that’s how one of the Hammer
Center secretaries described him.  Apparently, he was hiding in a
supply closet and when she opened it, he ran out.  We -- Jean and I
and some other students -- heard a growl and then her scream all the
way up on the floor above.  By the time we got there, he was gone.
But whatever happened, he scared the daylights out of her.  She
called him a ‘big green thing.’”

“And what makes you think this was Bruce Banner?” the professor
asked.

“Bruce’s body wasn’t found,” Jean said.  “A cop came to take my
statement before I left ER.  He admitted that Ted Roberts had been
found -- ” she choked, then went on, “had been found dead at the
scene.  But apparently Hank and I were the only other people in the
room.  No Bruce.  And” -- she indicated Hank again -- “the wave
changed Hank.  I think it changed Bruce, too.”

“But it didn’t change you, Jean.  And Bruce Banner is not a mutant,”
the professor pointed out.

“Maybe he was,” Hank said, and they all turned to stare at him.
Pulling out the pad he’d grabbed, he wrote, One impact of the wave is
to complete mutations in partially mutated individuals.  That is the
only explanation I can think of for my own state.  My mutation at
birth was partial, and for whatever reason, never finished.  But the
other impact of the wave is to bring about mutations in latent
mutants.  Bruce hadn’t yet told Jean this, but his son is a mutant.
It’s part of what spurred his original interest in mutations.  While
running some DNA scans, he discovered that Brian carries the X-gene;
he’s simply not old enough yet to manifest.  Yet that means either
Bruce or Betty carry a recessive, and I think we know now which of
them it is.

“It’s got to be Bruce,” Jean agreed.  “He must have woken before the
paramedics arrived, or he was never knocked out at all.  He saw
what’d happened and panicked -- went to hide in that closet.”

Hank nodded. “Could be.”

Neither voiced their private thoughts:  it was very unlike Bruce to
run.  He’d never before ducked his responsibilities, or a fight -- at
least not an academic fight -- but waking up green might have been
more than he’d been prepared to face.

Jean glanced back at Hank.  “Why didn’t he ever tell me about Brian?”

This time, Hank shook his head.  “Phivat.”  He wrote, I think he
would have eventually, but not while you were a student of his.

Jean pondered that.  Bruce had always been old-fashioned about some
things. “We have to find him,” Jean said, “before he gets hurt.”  She
turned to the professor.  “If he’s a mutant now, can you find him
with Cerebro?”

The professor nodded.  “I can certainly try.”





“Hey, Slim -- phone!”

Scott wandered out of his bedroom where he’d been studying for an
exam.  This was the first summer that EJ hadn’t returned to LA,
supposedly because he wanted to get some gen ed classes out of the
way, but Scott thought the real reason had more to do with the fact
that Diane had elected to spend the summer in Berkeley.

Scott took the receiver to the kitchen phone.  Its long cord had been
twisted into impossible pretzels.  “Hello?”

“Scott?  It is Ro.  There was an accident in the Hammer Building -- ”

“What?  Is Jean okay?” Scott interrupted.

On the other end of the line, Ororo smiled to herself.  In small
gestures were the hearts of men revealed.  “Jean is fine.  Hank is .
. . going to be fine.”  She hoped.  “Sadly, Ted Roberts was killed,
and we are uncertain what became of Bruce -- though Jean and Hank
have a theory.”

“Something happened in the lab?” he demanded.

“Yes.  The new machine exploded.  The cause is not known.”

“Shit.”  He turned around to look at EJ, who was chopping broccoli on
a cutting board as he listened with a concerned frown.  Scott
mouthed, Jean’s all right and EJ nodded.  “So what’s their theory?”

“That Bruce underwent a mutation himself.”

“What?”

Ororo explained in brief what Jean and Warren had seen at the Hammer
Building, Hank’s theory, and also Hank’s own transformation.  Scott
just listened until she got to the part about Hank.  “He’s blue?”

“Who’s blue?” EJ asked.

“Hank’s blue!  Ro says that Hank’s turned blue!”

“Whoa -- ”

“It seems,” Ororo interrupted over the phone line to drag back
Scott’s attention, “that Henry’s mutation was unfinished.  Scott, we
must try to find Bruce Banner, if that was, indeed, the doctor.”

“I’m flying back there,” Scott said.  He had no idea how fast he
could get a ticket, but renting a plane for himself was out of the
question at such short notice.

“Do not bother.  Warren is already on the way out to get you.  That
is why I am calling.  You will need to drive to the San Pablo
Reservoir picnic grounds.”

“Why?”  He was baffled.  “It’s closed at night, Ro.”

“We know.  That is why we are using it.  I do not think they will let
this plane enter the local airport.”

“Huh?”  But the reason for t hat hit him before she could reply.
“Wait a minute!  He’s not bringing the Blackbird?  I didn’t know it
was ready!  Or that you’d tested it!”

“It is ready, but this is the first flight it has taken.”

“No fucking way!  Crippled Christ on a crutch!  Don’t let him off the
ground – ”

“He has left already.”

“He’s crazy!”  Scott Summers, son of an air force test pilot, was
nearly livid.  “You don’t take up a newly refitted plane at night and
fly it all the way across the goddamn country!”  Especially not that
plane.  “He’s not trying to fly it at mach speed, is he?”

“It is an emergency,” was Ororo’s simple answer.

Scott sighed; there was no use crying over spilled milk.  He just
hoped to God that Warren and the Habu made it out to California in
one piece.  “When did he leave?”

“Two hours ago.  So you have slightly less than two hours to travel
to meet him.”

“Fine.  I’ll be waiting.”

Scott hung up and turned to face EJ.  “I need a favor, man.  I need
you to drive me up to San Pablo Reservoir State Park.”

EJ looked out the window at the setting sun.  “Slim, it’s almost
dark.  It’ll be closed soon.”

“Yeah, I know.  That’s the idea.”





Scott and EJ arrived with time and to spare, which was a good thing;
with the park closed, they had to hide the car and climb the fence to
get in.  “What are we waiting on, man?”

Scott didn’t want to spoil the surprise.  “You wouldn’t believe me if
I told you.”  EJ’s answering expression was disgusted, and Scott felt
guilty.  “Sorry.  It’s an SR-71.  Rebuilt and remodeled.”

“A what?”

Scott had to laugh.  Of course EJ wouldn’t know.  Planes were Scott’s
obsession.  “It’s a Blackbird.”

“Never heard of it.”

“You won’t see it, either, until it’s on top of you.  Fastest plane
the air force ever built and the second highest-flying plane in the
world.  A Russian MIG goes higher, but the Blackbird’s a beauty.”

That won a smile from EJ.  “You’re plane-drunk, Slim.”

“Runs in the family.”

“I guess.”

Twenty minutes later, the ’bird was there, coming in low and slow
from the north, a darker shadow on a dark sky until the landing spots
came on.  Warren set it down in an open field and Scott held his
breath as the landing gear descended for the first time since its
refit.  His father had told him more than once that every Habu had a
temper of her own and that her pilot had better learn to finesse her.
  Landing a plane this powerful was like courting a fickle girl --
make the wrong move and one was dead.

Though her descent was rough, the plane remained in one piece as she
touched down and tore up  dirt.  “How long he been flying, man?” EJ
asked as the ‘bird came to a final tail-wagging stop.

“It’s a field, not a runway, Eeeej.  And that plane’s not like any
other.”  Scott shook his head.  “I can’t believe he brought her down
for the first time here.  I just hope we can get up again.”

EJ eyed him, expression genuinely concerned.  “You sure about this?”

Scott shrugged, repeating the same thing Ororo had said on the phone.
  “It’s an emergency.”  But when he boarded the bay-gutted, revamped
cockpit to take the newly installed co-pilot’s seat, his hands were
shaking.  “How’d she fly?” he asked his friend, deliberately casual.
It was better than, ‘Are we gonna die in a bright, fiery ball?’

“She’s cantankerous,” Warren replied, strapping back in, “But the
daf-ek Hank reinstalled has worked great.  No unstarts and the APW
didn’t shake the stick once.”

“Terrific,” Scott muttered sotto voce.  “How many times have you
practiced in a sim, War?”

“Enough.  And with all the scenarios.”

Nonetheless, lift-off wasn’t much better than the landing had been,
and Scott gripped his armrests as they barely cleared the tops of the
tall cedars.  “Jesus, Mary and Joseph,” he muttered.

“Can it.  Unless you want to fly her.”  Warren was tight-lipped and
as white in the face as Scott.

“Yeah, actually, I would.”

“What?”  Surprised, Warren glanced around.

“I’d like to fly her.”  And Scott did want it.  Desperately.  His
fingers stroked the slick inner skin of her hull.

“When was the last time you did a simulation, hotshot?”

Scott thought about it.  “On the computer?  Day before yesterday.”
He had not, in fact, been in the sim machine itself since Christmas,
but he was rather embarrassed to admit how often he ran the adapted
simulator that Hank had sent him.

Silence reigned for a minute, then Warren said, “Okay, you can fly
her a little.  But let me get us to cruising altitude, and I’m going
to land her.”

“That’s fine.”

They flew at 45,000 feet, but below the subsonic range when Warren
carefully let Scott slip into the pilot’s seat and turned over the
plane to him.  As Scott’s hands closed on the control stick, he felt
a shiver go through him.  He was in the pilot seat of a Habu.  A
modified Habu, but a Habu all the same.  “Hey, baby,” he whispered.
She trembled under his hands, her AB engines roaring so hot they
turned their own interiors translucent and shook his teeth.  But she
trembled because this was too slow for her.  She wasn’t made for
tortoise speeds.  Free me, she sang to him through the metal.  He
raised her nose, advanced the throttle and opened her up.

“Whoa!” Warren said, plopping down into the other chair as she leapt
forward.  “What the fuck are you doing?”

“Taking her to a speed she wants to go.”

“Scott -- !”

“I was born for this, War.”  And he was -- a combination of his
father’s genetics, his lesser-sung mutant abilities, and an instinct
for the stratosphere.  He watched the plane’s speed pass the sonic
barrier and then approach the critical 1.6 as inlet spikes unlocked
and moved aft of their forward position.  This was it, he thought.
They’d either unstart the engines and be knocked all over the sky, or
she’d straighten out like a greyhound.

She straightened out, vibrating with a cat’s purr of pure power.
Take me home, baby, he thought to her.

They flew through the night, very high, her engines making
quartz-blue flames in the darkness.





On the long flight, Warren filled in Scott more thoroughly on
everything that had transpired since the accident.  By the time they
touched down on the little private landing strip by the lake, it was
the wee hours of morning, but the lights were still on in the
mansion.  They entered through the rear kitchen door and Scott was
met with a bear hug first from Ororo, then from Jean.  Scott held
onto Jean a bit longer than he might have normally, then asked, “You
okay?  I’m sorry about -- ”

“I’m all right,” she interrupted, pushing him away.  She didn’t want
to discuss Ted Roberts and knew that was what he’d ask about.  How
she knew it, she didn’t pause to consider.  “Come see Hank.”  She
took him by the hand and led him out of the kitchen.  “And whatever
you do, don’t wince.”

“I won’t.”

The dark-wood hall between kitchen and den was dim and haunted with
uncertainties as the four of them made their way down to where a
still-weak Henry McCoy was propped on the den couch with pillows and
blankets and warm tea.  The professor was with him, and Frank and
Bobby, and all the room’s lights were on.  He was both more and less
shocking than Scott had expected, though in truth, Scott’s
expectations had been indistinct, like a child’s fear of monsters in
the closet.

Hank was no monster at all.  He’d gained significant body mass but
his facial features were still familiar -- all but the mouth.  That
looked slightly stretched.  The greatest change was the color of the
new fur; it appeared purple to Scott, though Ororo and Warren had
both said it was blue.   The skin beneath also seemed to have changed
as his lips were purple, too, though the hair on his head was the
same dark shade it’d always been.  Then again, Scott thought, if his
own beard could be auburn while his hair was brown, maybe the
contrast of Hank’s body fur to his scalp hair was the same.

Face blank by force of will, Scott walked over to seat himself on the
edge of the coffee table that fronted the sofa. “How are you?” he
asked -- a foolish question, but the only one he could think of to
express his concern.

Hank didn’t quite look at him, glancing somewhere indefinite over his
left shoulder instead.  “I suppose I sssall be seeking a new address
on Sesame Street.”

Unsure how to reply to that, and embarrassed and half-guilty, Scott
looked away.  The rest of the room was silent.  Abruptly, Hank
sighed.  It was loud.  “I know, I know.  Self-pity is so unbecoming.”

It was Frank who dared to reply.  “But understandable.”

And no one immediately replied to that, either.  After a space of ten
breaths, Scott asked, “So if this big, green . . . person . . . is
Dr. Banner, how do we find him?  He may be big, but New York is
bigger.”

“I believe I can help, on that score,” the professor said.

----

Concluded in to part 12b

__________________________________________________
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AN ACCIDENTAL INTERCEPTION
Of Fate: Like Agamemnon
Minisinoo
http://www.themedicinewheel.net/accidental/aiof12.html

IGNORE THE PREVIOUS (I forgot to add italics)

Notes: Not a pleasant chapter; apologies if any details of Fort Tryon
Park are askew.  Yes, the eye is from the upcoming Hulk film, though
my Banner is obviously quite different from that one (beyond being a
geneticist there, too).  Unfortunately, images of the cgi-Hulk are
being strictly guarded, so it was the eye or Lou Ferrigno.  No, at
this point in time, the X-Jet does not yet have jumpjet capabilities.

----------------------

Henry McCoy knew that something was seriously wrong as soon as he
awoke in his own bed and saw Frank half-dozing in the chair at his
desk.  It wasn’t the presence of Frank that alarmed him, but the
decidedly different feel of his own body that extended beyond any
cotton-fuzzy effect of pain meds.  He felt larger, stuffed like a
teddy bear, and a spinning-dizzy chill flashed through his limbs as
he stared at the ceiling a moment, watching the ripple of evening
shadows from the dancing limbs of the black hickory beyond his
bedroom window.  Finally, he said, “Fff--  Fffanses . . . sssses . .
. co?”  He could make neither an “r” nor a “ch” sound.

Jerking awake, Frank uncrossed his legs and arms, then smiled.  But
it was sad.  Frank’s smiles were often sad.  “Welcome back.”  Rising,
he came over to perch on the edge of Hank’s bed.  “Are you in pain?”

“No.  But, I fffeeel odd.  Cannntalk.”  In point of fact, his tongue
felt too large for his mouth, or his teeth were . . . different.
That was it -- his teeth were different.  Was he missing some?  But
no, running his tongue over them, he met a full wall of slick enamel,
but very sharp.  My God, he thought, I have incisors.

Well, everyone had incisors.  But not like these.

What on earth had happened?  He started to struggle up, but Frank’s
hand on his shoulder pushed him back.  “Lie still.  You are wounded.
The doctors sewed you back together from the pieces.”  Abruptly he
grinned.  “Well, not so quite.  I am Italian; I am allowed to
exaggerate.  But you must not begin new bleeding, no?”

“Wwwhat happ--happen’d?”

“An accident.  You remember the explosions, yes?”  Hank nodded and
Frank sighed.  Here came the difficult part.  Your own fault, he
thought.  He’d had the power to stop it, and hadn’t.  But everyone
had to make choices.

Before he could go on, however, Henry asked, “Shhheen?  Buce?”

“Jean is fine.  Bruce . . . we do not know.”  Well, he knew, but he
would keep that to himself yet.

“What ten?  Tell me.  And how long out?”

Already Henry was adjusting to the changes in his mouth.  It would
take time, but he’d relearn how to talk.

“We do not know what happened, not past the obvious.  You haven’t
been unconscious so long, not two hours since we came back.”  There
was no putting it off, so he reached down to raise one of Hank’s
hands into his friend’s field of vision.  “There are changes, Henri.”

And the expressions that chased across Hank’s face pierced Francesco.
  Confusion, horror, pain, fear -- disgust.  He started to rise again
but Frank pushed him down once more, and weak still, he didn’t fight.
  But his eyes were terrified.  “Mihah, mihoh, mi . . .”

“Mirror,” Frank said for him.  “Lie still.  I will find one.”

In fact, he’d brought one along from the room that he shared with
Ororo, an antique tooled, brass-backed hand mirror, small enough to
avoid a whole-body effect.  It was sometimes better, he reflected, if
shocks came in digestible bites.  He handed the mirror to Hank, who
stared into it a long while, then dropped it reflective side down on
the bed’s blanket and turned his face away.

“You are still Henri McCoy,” Frank told him.  “This” -- he indicated
Henry’s new form -- “changes nothing of the you that matters.”

“Why?” Hank asked.  “Why did it happen?”

“It was the machine, I am thinking.”

And Hank pondered that because knowledge was Henry McCoy’s god, the
solace he’d always sought for the differences that had set him apart
from the very beginning.  He could recall seeing the gravimagnetic
field escape the GFG containment cylinder and spread outward,
enveloping Ted Roberts and moving beyond even as the machine itself
had cracked apart under pressure.  He’d leapt over the table to knock
Jean and Bruce to the floor, but that had been to save them from the
shrapnel of a disintegrating machine, not from the field.

“Sheen -- ?” Then in frustration, he shook his head and mimed
writing.  Frank nodded and fetched a yellow pad and pen from the desk
while Hank studied his hands, now covered with very short, dense,
pale-lapis-blue fur everywhere except the palms, the skin of which
had thickened and turned a darker royal shade.  But otherwise, their
shape hadn’t changed; they were as outsized as they’d always been.

*You were born a freak, Henry McCoy*, he thought bitterly as he took
the paper from Frank to scribble, “Has Jean changed?”

Frank shook his head, and Hank breathed out in relief, then wrote,
**My mutation must never have completed itself.  That’s what the GFG
was supposed to do:  trigger recessive or incomplete mutations.  I
was born with a physical mutation, but it must never have reached its
intended conclusion.**  He stopped, twisted the pen a moment, then
added, **This is what I’m supposed to be.**

He remembered the face in the mirror. “What beast haff I become?” he
muttered.

“Yourself,” Frank told him softly.  Reaching out, he took the writing
tools from Henry and laid them down on the bedside, then took Hank’s
hand and held it up, placing his own against it, palm-to-palm.  Not
only was Henry’s hand larger, but the fingers were longer, more
apelike.  “You are our friend,” Frank said.  “We will find the way
through this, and we shall not forsake you.”

“My caheeah?”

Frank held up the pad with his free hand.  “Words.  You still have
your words, mi amico.  You have still published more articles this
year than anyone else in your specialization.  You are still Henri
McCoy.”  He released Hank’s hand and eyed him.  “You are not a beast.
  Unless it is the Cookie Monster.”

And despite himself, Hank laughed.  Then he cried.  Frank sat with
him for a long time, saying nothing else as shadows lengthened and
the sun went down in watercolor streaks of blood red, obscene orange,
and the deep purple of a bruise.





“Something terrible has happened to Bruce!”

Jean was shouting it almost before she got in the main foyer door,
Warren right on her heels.  Caught in rush-hour traffic, it had taken
them almost two hours to get back to Westchester from midtown, and
the grandfather clock in the hallway was about to chime seven.

“Professor!” Jean called.  “Professor!  Something has happened to
Bruce!”

Everyone on the first floor came running, Xavier in his chair the
last to arrive, and right there on the grey-veined foyer marble, Jean
laid down a selection of papers that she’d printed out earlier and
had been studying in the car on the drive back.  “Here, here and
here!” she said, pointing to three lines of numbers that, of course,
meant absolutely nothing to anyone else present.

“Begin at the beginning, Jean,” the professor suggested.

Looking up from where she knelt, she met his eyes.  “What happened to
Hank.  It happened to Bruce, too.  I’m almost sure of it.  That wave
mutated them.  I wouldn’t have thought of it, if I hadn’t seen Hank
in the hospital but -- ”  Abruptly, she interrupted herself to ask,
“How is Hank?”

“Hank is fine,” said a new voice on the main spiral staircase.
Having heard the shouting below, Francesco and Henry had come to
investigate and now Frank was helping him down the stairs.

“Hank!” Jean yelled, darting up the stairs to throw her arms around
him with great enthusiasm, if no little care.  It wasn’t the
reception he’d expected, but it was the one he’d needed, and he put
an arm around her, too, hugging her back.

“What papeas?” he asked, still adjusting to the new teeth.

“Copies of the printouts that Bruce was showing us earlier.”

“Let me see.”

So Jean and Frank helped him to descend the rest of the way, then sat
him down on the final step so that Jean could move the papers closer,
pointing out the crucial results.  “What haffened to Buce?” he asked,
almost idly, as he picked up and shuffled through the printouts.
*Focus, focus,* he thought.  The papers gave him something on which
to focus the one thing that hadn’t changed -- his mind.

“I’m not sure exactly,” Jean explained, glancing back at Warren.  “I
didn’t see him.  I’m not entirely sure it was him but --” she
gestured silently at Hank, who just stared at her a moment.  “He’s
*green*.”

“Green?” the rest echoed.

“Big and green,” Warren added, “or that’s how one of the Hammer
Center secretaries described him.  Apparently, he was hiding in a
supply closet and when she opened it, he ran out.  We -- Jean and I
and some other students -- heard a growl and then her scream all the
way up on the floor above.  By the time we got there, he was gone.
But whatever happened, he scared the daylights out of her.  She
called him a ‘big green thing.’”

“And what makes you think this was Bruce Banner?” the professor
asked.

“Bruce’s body wasn’t found,” Jean said.  “A cop came to take my
statement before I left ER.  He admitted that Ted Roberts had been
found -- ” she choked, then went on, “had been found dead at the
scene.  But apparently Hank and I were the only other people in the
room.  No Bruce.  And” -- she indicated Hank again -- “the wave
changed Hank.  I think it changed Bruce, too.”

“But it didn’t change you, Jean.  And Bruce Banner is not a mutant,”
the professor pointed out.

“Maybe he was,” Hank said, and they all turned to stare at him.
Pulling out the pad he’d grabbed, he wrote, **One impact of the wave
is to complete mutations in partially mutated individuals.  That is
the only explanation I can think of for my own state.  My mutation at
birth was partial, and for whatever reason, never finished.  But the
other impact of the wave is to bring about mutations in latent
mutants.  Bruce hadn’t yet told Jean this, but his son is a mutant.
It’s part of what spurred his original interest in mutations.  While
running some DNA scans, he discovered that Brian carries the X-gene;
he’s simply not old enough yet to manifest.  Yet that means either
Bruce or Betty carry a recessive, and I think we know now which of
them it is.**

“It’s got to be Bruce,” Jean agreed.  “He must have woken before the
paramedics arrived, or he was never knocked out at all.  He saw
what’d happened and panicked -- went to hide in that closet.”

Hank nodded. “Could be.”

Neither voiced their private thoughts:  it was very unlike Bruce to
run.  He’d never before ducked his responsibilities, or a fight -- at
least not an academic fight -- but waking up green might have been
more than he’d been prepared to face.

Jean glanced back at Hank.  “Why didn’t he ever tell me about Brian?”

This time, Hank shook his head.  “Phivat.”  He wrote, **I think he
would have eventually, but not while you were a student of his.**

Jean pondered that.  Bruce had always been old-fashioned about some
things. “We have to find him,” Jean said, “before he gets hurt.”  She
turned to the professor.  “If he’s a mutant now, can you find him
with Cerebro?”

The professor nodded.  “I can certainly try.”





“Hey, Slim -- phone!”

Scott wandered out of his bedroom where he’d been studying for an
exam.  This was the first summer that EJ hadn’t returned to LA,
supposedly because he wanted to get some gen ed classes out of the
way, but Scott thought the real reason had more to do with the fact
that Diane had elected to spend the summer in Berkeley.

Scott took the receiver to the kitchen phone.  Its long cord had been
twisted into impossible pretzels.  “Hello?”

“Scott?  It is Ro.  There was an accident in the Hammer Building -- ”

“*What?*  Is Jean okay?” Scott interrupted.

On the other end of the line, Ororo smiled to herself.  In small
gestures were the hearts of men revealed.  “Jean is fine.  Hank is .
. . going to be fine.”  She hoped.  “Sadly, Ted Roberts was killed,
and we are uncertain what became of Bruce -- though Jean and Hank
have a theory.”

“Something happened in the lab?” he demanded.

“Yes.  The new machine exploded.  The cause is not known.”

“Shit.”  He turned around to look at EJ, who was chopping broccoli on
a cutting board as he listened with a concerned frown.  Scott
mouthed, Jean’s all right and EJ nodded.  “So what’s their theory?”

“That Bruce underwent a mutation himself.”

“*What?*”

Ororo explained in brief what Jean and Warren had seen at the Hammer
Building, Hank’s theory, and also Hank’s own transformation.  Scott
just listened until she got to the part about Hank.  “He’s *blue*?”

“Who’s blue?” EJ asked.

“Hank’s blue!  Ro says that Hank’s turned blue!”

“Whoa -- ”

“*It seems*,” Ororo interrupted over the phone line to drag back
Scott’s attention, “that Henry’s mutation was unfinished.  Scott, we
must try to find Bruce Banner, if that was, indeed, the doctor.”

“I’m flying back there,” Scott said.  He had no idea how fast he
could get a ticket, but renting a plane for himself was out of the
question at such short notice.

“Do not bother.  Warren is already on the way out to get you.  That
is why I am calling.  You will need to drive to the San Pablo
Reservoir picnic grounds.”

“Why?”  He was baffled.  “It’s closed at night, Ro.”

“We know.  That is why we are using it.  I do not think they will let
this plane enter the local airport.”

“Huh?”  But the reason for that hit him before she could reply.
“Wait a minute!  He’s not bringing the *Blackbird*?  I didn’t know it
was ready!  Or that you’d tested it!”

“It is ready, but this is the first flight it has taken.”

“No fucking way!  Crippled Christ on a crutch!  Don’t let him off the
ground – ”

“He has left already.”

“He’s crazy!”  Scott Summers, son of an air force test pilot, was
nearly livid.  “You don’t take up a newly refitted plane at night and
fly it all the way across the goddamn country!”  Especially not that
plane.  “He’s not trying to fly it at mach speed, is he?”

“It is an emergency,” was Ororo’s simple answer.

Scott sighed; there was no use crying over spilled milk.  He just
hoped to God that Warren and the Habu made it out to California in
one piece.  “When did he leave?”

“Two hours ago.  So you have slightly less than two hours to travel
to meet him.”

“Fine.  I’ll be waiting.”

Scott hung up and turned to face EJ.  “I need a favor, man.  I need
you to drive me up to San Pablo Reservoir State Park.”

EJ looked out the window at the setting sun.  “Slim, it’s almost
dark.  It’ll be closed soon.”

“Yeah, I know.  That’s the idea.”





Scott and EJ arrived with time and to spare, which was a good thing;
with the park closed, they had to hide the car and climb the fence to
get in.  “What are we waiting on, man?”

Scott didn’t want to spoil the surprise.  “You wouldn’t believe me if
I told you.”  EJ’s answering expression was disgusted, and Scott felt
guilty.  “Sorry.  It’s an SR-71.  Rebuilt and remodeled.”

“A what?”

Scott had to laugh.  Of course EJ wouldn’t know.  Planes were Scott’s
obsession.  “It’s a Blackbird.”

“Never heard of it.”

“You won’t see it, either, until it’s on top of you.  Fastest plane
the air force ever built and the second highest-flying plane in the
world.  A Russian MIG goes higher, but the Blackbird’s a beauty.”

That won a smile from EJ.  “You’re plane-drunk, Slim.”

“Runs in the family.”

“I guess.”

Twenty minutes later, the ’bird was there, coming in low and slow
from the north, a darker shadow on a dark sky until the landing spots
came on.  Warren set it down in an open field and Scott held his
breath as the landing gear descended for the first time since its
refit.  His father had told him more than once that every Habu had a
temper of her own and that her pilot had better learn to finesse her.
  Landing a plane this powerful was like courting a fickle girl --
make the wrong move and one was dead.

Though her descent was rough, the plane remained in one piece as she
touched down and tore up  dirt.  “How long he been flying, man?” EJ
asked as the ‘bird came to a final tail-wagging stop.

“It’s a field, not a runway, Eeeej.  And that plane’s not like any
other.”  Scott shook his head.  “I can’t believe he brought her down
for the first time *here*.  I just hope we can get up again.”

EJ eyed him, expression genuinely concerned.  “You sure about this?”

Scott shrugged, repeating the same thing Ororo had said on the phone.
  “It’s an emergency.”  But when he boarded the bay-gutted, revamped
cockpit to take the newly installed co-pilot’s seat, his hands were
shaking.  “How’d she fly?” he asked his friend, deliberately casual.
It was better than, ‘Are we gonna die in a bright, fiery ball?’

“She’s cantankerous,” Warren replied, strapping back in, “But the
daf-ek Hank reinstalled has worked great.  No unstarts and the APW
didn’t shake the stick once.”

“Terrific,” Scott muttered sotto voce.  “How many times have you
practiced in a sim, War?”

“Enough.  And with all the scenarios.”

Nonetheless, lift-off wasn’t much better than the landing had been,
and Scott gripped his armrests as they barely cleared the tops of the
tall cedars.  “Jesus, Mary and Joseph,” he muttered.

“Can it.  Unless you want to fly her.”  Warren was tight-lipped and
as white in the face as Scott.

“Yeah, actually, I would.”

“What?”  Surprised, Warren glanced around.

“I’d like to fly her.”  And Scott did want it.  Desperately.  His
fingers stroked the slick inner skin of her hull.

“When was the last time *you* did a simulation, hotshot?”

Scott thought about it.  “On the computer?  Day before yesterday.”
He had not, in fact, been in the sim machine itself since Christmas,
but he was rather embarrassed to admit how often he ran the adapted
simulator that Hank had sent him.

Silence reigned for a minute, then Warren said, “Okay, you can fly
her a little.  But let me get us to cruising altitude, and I’m going
to land her.”

“That’s fine.”

They flew at 45,000 feet, but below the subsonic range when Warren
carefully let Scott slip into the pilot’s seat and turned over the
plane to him.  As Scott’s hands closed on the control stick, he felt
a shiver go through him.  He was in the pilot seat of a Habu.  A
modified Habu, but a Habu all the same.  “Hey, baby,” he whispered.
She trembled under his hands, her AB engines roaring so hot they
turned their own interiors translucent and shook his teeth.  But she
trembled because this was too slow for her.  She wasn’t made for
tortoise speeds.  *Free me,* she sang to him through the metal.  He
raised her nose, advanced the throttle and opened her up.

“Whoa!” Warren said, plopping down into the other chair as she leapt
forward.  “What the fuck are you doing?”

“Taking her to a speed she wants to go.”

“Scott -- !”

“I was born for this, War.”  And he was -- a combination of his
father’s genetics, his lesser-sung mutant abilities, and an instinct
for the stratosphere.  He watched the plane’s speed pass the sonic
barrier and then approach the critical 1.6 as inlet spikes unlocked
and moved aft of their forward position.  This was it, he thought.
They’d either unstart the engines and be knocked all over the sky, or
she’d straighten out like a greyhound.

She straightened out, vibrating with a cat’s purr of pure power.
*Take me home, baby,* he thought to her.

They flew through the night, very high, her engines making
quartz-blue flames in the darkness.





On the long flight, Warren filled in Scott more thoroughly on
everything that had transpired since the accident.  By the time they
touched down on the little private landing strip by the lake, it was
the wee hours of morning, but the lights were still on in the
mansion.  They entered through the rear kitchen door and Scott was
met with a bear hug first from Ororo, then from Jean.  Scott held
onto Jean a bit longer than he might have normally, then asked, “You
okay?  I’m sorry about -- ”

“I’m all right,” she interrupted, pushing him away.  She didn’t want
to discuss Ted Roberts and knew that was what he’d ask about.  How
she knew it, she didn’t pause to consider.  “Come see Hank.”  She
took him by the hand and led him out of the kitchen.  “And whatever
you do, don’t wince.”

“I won’t.”

The dark-wood hall between kitchen and den was dim and haunted with
uncertainties as the four of them made their way down to where a
still-weak Henry McCoy was propped on the den couch with pillows and
blankets and warm tea.  The professor was with him, and Frank and
Bobby, and all the room’s lights were on.  He was both more and less
shocking than Scott had expected, though in truth, Scott’s
expectations had been indistinct, like a child’s fear of monsters in
the closet.

Hank was no monster at all.  He’d gained significant body mass but
his facial features were still familiar -- all but the mouth.  That
looked slightly stretched.  The greatest change was the color of the
new fur; it appeared purple to Scott, though Ororo and Warren had
both said it was blue.   The skin beneath also seemed to have changed
as his lips were purple, too, though the hair on his head was the
same dark shade it’d always been.  Then again, Scott thought, if his
own beard could be auburn while his hair was brown, maybe the
contrast of Hank’s body fur to his scalp hair was the same.

Face blank by force of will, Scott walked over to seat himself on the
edge of the coffee table that fronted the sofa. “How are you?” he
asked -- a foolish question, but the only one he could think of to
express his concern.

Hank didn’t quite look at him, glancing somewhere indefinite over his
left shoulder instead.  “I suppose I sssall be seeking a new address
on Sesame Street.”

Unsure how to reply to that, and embarrassed and half-guilty, Scott
looked away.  The rest of the room was silent.  Abruptly, Hank
sighed.  It was loud.  “I know, I know.  Self-pity is so unbecoming.”

It was Frank who dared to reply.  “But understandable.”

And no one immediately replied to that, either.  After a space of ten
breaths, Scott asked, “So if this big, green . . . person . . . is
Dr. Banner, how do we find him?  He may be big, but New York is
bigger.”

“I believe I can help, on that score,” the professor said.

----

Concluded in to part 12b

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Concluding direction from part 12a....
------

Fort Tryon itself, built on Manhattan’s highest point, dated back to
the Revolutionary war, but only the ruined foundations remained on
the banks of the Hudson across the river from the New Jersey
Palisades.  Even that might have been swallowed by the burgeoning New
York metropolis but for the sixty-two acres surrounding the fort that
had been purchased by John D. Rockefeller in 1909, and given to the
city in 1930 for a park; the landscaping had been done by Frederick
Law Olmsted, the same man who’d designed Central Park.  Yet the
public draw of Ft. Tryon wasn’t the historic ruins, but The
Cloisters, a mammoth sub-branch of the Metropolitan Museum of Art
built in the chunky, forbidding style of medieval French monasteries,
and housing (appropriately) art and artifacts of the Middle Ages.
The Cloisters was located centrally at the park top, while numerous
paths led up and down hills, some of them so steep that walkways had
to be bordered by stone walls.  There was a rock garden at the south
entrance near the old fort, a stone gazebo, a café, a terrace, and a
pair of sizable playgrounds, all in addition to the lawns, groves,
chasms, and gardens one would expect to find.  Here at the height of
summer, the trees and bushes were leafy and verdant, providing
extensive cover so that, after dark and even with a half moon, it was
pitch black in areas.

It was also closed, so getting inside had been an adventure, but this
was where Cerebro had pinpointed Bruce Banner, so this was where
they’d come, hoping to find and fetch him back to the mansion at a
time of night when he wouldn’t attract too much unwanted attention.
Jean was armed with an oversized coat and a hat.  It wasn’t perfect,
but after dark, it might be sufficient to conceal someone big, and
green.  Only Hank and Bobby hadn’t come, Hank because he was too
wounded -- never mind blue -- and Bobby because he was too young.
Scott led Ororo, Frank, Jean and Warren into the park while the
professor drove the handicap-modified Bentley about the neighborhood,
waiting.  Dawn was only an hour and a half away, so they had to find
Bruce quickly.  They split up into two groups, but even so, the park
would have been too large for them to canvas in that time, so the
professor helped them better narrow the area of their search.  They
knew that Banner was on the western, or elevated side of the park,
near the museum.  At Scott’s suggestion, they were wearing the
protective gear that had been designed for them -- dark clothes to
cover most of their exposed skin, and the kevlar vests.  Jean had
protested, “Scott, it’s Bruce, not some strange and dangerous
mutant.”

But Scott had shaken his head.  “It’s not Bruce I’m worried about;
it’s the other crazies.”  Scott was still amazed that Banner had
managed to make it from the medical center to Ft. Tryon Park at rush
hour without attracting attention.

In fact, the big, green man *had* attracted attention, but New
Yorkers being New Yorkers, they’d assumed him involved in filming a
movie or some sort of publicity campaign, so he’d traveled two blocks
west to Ft. Washington Park without anyone calling the police, then
moved north through the park grounds until he’d been able to cross
into the much larger, more densely landscaped Ft. Tryon Park where
his own panicked suspicion had made him avoid joggers and tourists
until sunset had emptied the paths.  Now, hunger had driven him out
to prowl and he made a midnight snack of unfinished popcorn,
half-eaten granola bars, and abandoned chili dogs, leaving a trail of
plundered trash cans that Scott and Jean picked up near Linden
Terrace and followed like a reversal of Hansel and Gretel.  “I can’t
believe he’s eating trash,” Jean said, after the third overturned
bin.

Scott was more concerned by the fact that Bruce was casually upending
concrete containers than by the fact he was eating someone’s
half-finished dinner.  Fists on hips, he studied one of the displaced
canisters lying on its side not far from a sign that read
(ironically), **Let no one say, and say it to your shame, that all
was beauty here, until you came.**  “He’s probably really hungry.
When was the last time he ate?  Noon?”

“No doubt, but Scott, it’s *garbage*.  He’s a doctor.  He knows how
unsanitary that is.”  And she fastidiously wrinkled her pretty nose.
“I’d think he’d have to be a good deal hungrier than a missed supper
before he’d eat out of the trash!”

It was yet another clue in the case Jean was reluctantly building
that more was wrong with her old advisor than a change in skin tone.
The Bruce she knew would never have threatened a secretary, no matter
how frightened he was.  And the Bruce she knew wouldn’t be eating out
of the trash unless he were a good deal more hungry and desperate.
Moreover, the Bruce she knew would’ve made some effort to contact
someone, not hole up in a park for hours on end.  Perhaps he didn’t
have his cell, but she’d seen a few scattered pay phones since
entering the grounds.  Why hadn’t he at least tried to call his wife
collect?  Jean had phoned Betty Ross-Banner from the mansion only to
find her frantic, with no idea about what had happened to her
husband.

Standing on one of the many paths, Jean squinted off through the
trees.  They made a black wall all around them and the beam of her
flashlight barely pierced the foliage.  Crickets sang their night
songs and she could smell the heavy perfume of summer jasmine.
Dressed in a long-sleeved shirt, pants and the heavy kevlar, she was
hot, and pushed up her shirt sleeves as she followed Scott.  The
white X on the back of his vest glowed faintly in the moonlight.  It
really did look like a big target mark.

Scott had raised his little wrist communicator and now spoke into it.
  “Anything?”

“Nothing,” came back Warren’s voice in a static-distorted warble.

“We’ve found some emptied trash bins between the terrace and the rock
garden but no further sign of Dr. Banner.”

“Why do you assume emptied trash bins have anything to do with
Banner?  Might be dogs.”

“They’re a couple hundred pounds of concrete turned upside down, War.
  Find me the dog who can do that.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, ‘oh.’  Let’s converge on the trail headed up towards The
Cloisters.”  He hesitated, then added, “Be careful,” before closing
the connection.  He and Jean turned back and followed the Promenade
north towards the looming complex of buildings above them, the
yellow-white beams of their flashlights dancing across the landscape
around them.

“Shall we call to him?” Jean asked after a while.  “He might not know
who we are otherwise.”

It was a good suggestion, and Scott might have agreed, but before he
could reply something large and hulking crashed through the bushes to
their right and leapt onto the path in front of them, pounding his
chest Tarzan-style and snarling.  Already on edge, Jean squeaked and
stumbled backwards, falling onto her ass on the sidewalk, her
flashlight rolling away and the overcoat falling from her grasp.
Scott jumped in front of her, hand on his visor trigger,  “Dr.
Banner!  We’re not here to hurt you.”  He could only hope that the
seven-foot, snarling, man-shaped creature was, in fact, the mutated
Bruce Banner, but when he swung up his flashlight into the other’s
eyes to blind him temporarily, the beam did reveal skin a brilliant
grass green.

“Bruce, it’s Jean!”  She’d recovered her equilibrium and her feet
rapidly enough.  “We want to help!”

Between the light in his eyes and the use of his name, Banner
hesitated.  “Who you?” he asked.

The childlike puzzlement in his face, the poor grammar, and the fact
-- just registering with them both -- that he wore not a stitch of
clothing on his body, sealed Jean’s suspicion that more than his
physical form had altered.  “Bruce, it’s Jean,” she repeated, hands
spread in a placating way as she moved a few steps past Scott.  Scott
grabbed for her but she shook him off.  “It’s Jean Grey.  Your former
student, Jean Grey?  Do you remember me?  We want to help you.  We
want to take you someplace safe.”

Bruce Banner was wary, but he did recognize his own name, and the
young woman seemed familiar, though he understood less than half of
what she’d said.  He understood ‘safe,’ at least, and as she held
nothing dangerous in her outstretched hands, he took a step towards
her.  Smiling, she continued, “Betty asked us to find you.  Betty and
Brian are really worried, Bruce.  They want you to come home.”

Betty.  He remembered Betty.  Soft hair, soft breasts, pretty smile.
Betty.  And for the first time in hours, both fear and hostility
drained out of Banner.  Pretty Betty.  But she wouldn’t like to see
him like this.  She wouldn’t love him anymore like this.  He sat down
heavily on the grass verge, knees up and forearms on them, giving
Jean a clearer view of his privates than she’d ever wanted.  “Betty,”
he whispered, great sorrow in his voice.  “Betty no see me like
this.”

Whatever he’d lost intellectually, he clearly still understood shame
of one kind, if not another.  Jean moved closer yet, squatting down
to put herself on his level, close enough to touch.  “Bruce, Betty
loves you.  She just wants to know that you’re safe.”

“No see me like this!”  Banner’s sorrow was transforming back into
fear, and anger

“Jean -- ” Scott warned.

She waved him silent and tried again, thinking that they had to get
Banner out of this park, back to the mansion -- and the lab -- where
she and Hank could find some way to restore his memories, and his
intellect.  “Betty won’t be angry.  We want to help you.  We want to
take you someplace safe where we can feed you” -- Banner’s expression
perked up at that -- “and then we can call Betty and Brian and -- ”

She got no further.  In an instant, Banner’s mood shifting from
interest into rage and he leapt at Jean, knocking her onto her back
even as Ororo, Frank and Warren came hurrying up the path from the
opposite direction, having been called by the commotion.  “Jean!”
Scott shouted, stepping back to get off a shot even while the other
three stared in confusion.

But though Banner was holding Jean by the throat, he didn’t seem to
be hurting her beyond that and Scott hesitated.  Banner, however --
hearing the others approaching and realizing that he was hemmed in --
shouted, “Trick me!  You trick me!”

“No, Bruce,” Jean managed to choke out, “They won’t hurt you,” even
as Scott said, “Let her go, Dr. Banner.”

Warren had spread his hands in an unconscious imitation of Jean
earlier, “We’re not your enemies.”

“Sneaky!” Banner retorted, and lifting Jean a few inches by the neck,
he slammed her down against the sidewalk.  Scott heard her skull
connect with the asphalt and fear squeezed his heart.

“No, Scott!” Frank called.  “If you shoot -- ”

But Scott had already triggered his visor.  A low-impact beam struck
Banner to knock him off Jean, but Scott hadn’t counted on Banner’s
grip, and both Banner and Jean were blown across the path onto the
grass and almost down into a ditch.  Furious now, Banner stood up
yowling and charged Scott, who shot again, a little harder, knocking
Banner back against a tree.  Ororo began to whip up a wind; it pulled
at branches and rustled leaves.  Frank stood beside her while Warren
hurried over to kneel by Jean, helping her to sit up.  She was
rubbing at her throat.

Ororo’s winds were getting stronger, pushing Banner back as he tried
to push forward, yelling furiously, “You trick!   Me smash!”  But the
winds were safer than Scott’s blasts.  Scott wasn’t sure what to do
now.

“Dr. Banner,” he called.  “You’ve got to stop.  We won’t call Betty
if you don’t want, but you’ve got to let us help you!”

“You no help!  You sneaky!  You sneaky up on Bruce and hurt him!  Me
smash!”

“No, Bruce!  You were strangling Jean!  I had to get you off her.  I
didn’t hit you as hard as I could and I wasn’t trying to hurt you.
Stop fighting us and we’ll take you somewhere you can eat, somewhere
you’ll be safe -- ”

A shot interrupted.  Nothing mutant -- quite a normal gun blast,
followed by a second, then a third.  The body of Bruce Banner jerked
three times as dark blood bloomed on the bare skin of his left arm,
upper chest, and shoulder.  It would have felled a normal man.
Banner merely screamed louder and leapt at the one who’d fired -- a
security guard who’d been on duty up at The Cloisters and, hearing
their shouts, had feared gangs and called the police, then come to
investigate.  In the darkness of the trees, and focused as they were
on Banner, none of them had seen him approach.

Now, Banner grabbed him by the neck before he could get off a fourth
shot and raised him high, closing the fist.  Bones crunched as the
man’s neck was pulverized; it was the most sickening sound Scott had
ever heard.  Then Banner threw the body sideways into the bushes
before turning to face the five of them, growling like a furious
grizzly.  “Tricky!  Tricky!”  Blood was dripping down his skin and
caught by their flashlight beams, it made an obscene Christmas-toned
contrast.  “Hurt me!”

“He wasn’t with us!” Scott called, knowing it was futile, even while
he became aware of sirens in the distance.

Banner could hear the sirens, too, and they panicked him.  Despite
his wounds and belying his new size, he sprinted up the path towards
The Cloisters.  “Get out of the way!” Scott bellowed at Ororo and
Frank.  Ororo leapt.  Frank didn’t.  Face undecided, he stood rooted
to the ground for three precious seconds.  A great, green arm swept
out and Banner knocked him flying; his body crashed into the bushes
to the side of the path and rolled down the incline.  “Frank!” Ororo
cried, racing after him as Banner disappeared around a corner.

“Should I see where Banner went?” Warren asked.

Scott made a sharp negating gesture and trotted over to where Warren
still sat with Jean.  “What a fucking mess,” he snarled, though he
was angry with himself, not them.  “War, go help Ororo with Frank.
Get him back up to the path, then we’ll decide what to do next.”

Warren hurried off as Scott directed his flashlight beam so he could
see without blinding Jean, and peered into her face.  “How are you?”

“Can’t talk,” she whispered, fingering her bruised neck.  “Sorry.  He
might have listened to me.”

Scott just shook his head.  “Not after that idiot shot him.”

“He killed that man.”  Jean’s dark eyes were tearing.  “He was a
doctor, Scott.  He saved lives.”  It struck them both at the same
moment that she’d just spoken of Banner in the past tense.  “Oh, God.
  That’s not Bruce.  That . . . *thing* isn’t Bruce.”

Scott shook his head and helped her to stand even as Warren and Ororo
returned, Frank in Warren’s arms.  “He broke his leg, I think,”
Warren said.  “And he’s out cold.”

“Shit!”  Scott wanted to hit something.  They’d lost Banner, the
sirens sounded right outside the park now, and one of their own was
wounded.  “Warren -- in the air.  Get out of the park and back to the
professor with Frank.  Tell him what’s happened so far if he doesn’t
know already.”  He’d been monitoring them mentally.  “Ororo, Jean,
you’re with me.  I don’t know what we can do about Banner, but we’ve
got to do something.  That guy shot him three times and it didn’t
even slow him down.”

The others all nodded, unconsciously submitting to Scott’s command
even though no one had put him in charge.  Warren rose up into the
night sky with Frank still in his grip while Jean and Ororo watched
him expectantly.  “I’m not sure what to do aside from going after
him,” Scott said.  “Well, that and trying to stay away from the
police.  This time, we’re sticking together.”  And he led them up the
path.  Jean left behind the hat and overcoat; they seemed a futile
gesture now.

The police arrived within minutes, converging on The Cloisters and
hoping for a report from the hapless security guard.  Finding him
missing, they began a search of the area while Scott, Jean and Ororo
stayed well away, hoping that Banner had turned in some other
direction and that they’d find him before the police did.  But
surprised shouts and a sharp interruption of gunshot told them luck
wasn’t on their side.  Crouching in the shadow of Linden Terrace,
Scott studied the remnants of his team -- Jean who could barely
speak, and Ororo whose concentration was now divided between  their
mission and worry for Frank.  Dawn was approaching.  “Ro, can you
raise a fog from the river?  Give some cover for as long as
possible?”  She nodded and did as instructed, an unseasonal and eerie
white creeping over the Henry Hudson Parkway below and then up the
steep bank to curl across the ground into the park trees.  Scott
could hear more sirens on the way, and there were shouts in the
distance as police called to one another.  Banner must have run
again.

“Which way will he go?” Scott muttered.  Banner wouldn’t flee like
Scott or any other adult would.  He apparently had the mind of a
child and would run like a child -- which meant a straight line
directly away from the threat, probably through the park towards the
exit.  Perhaps their luck was turning and they could get him outside
to the professor . . . or so he thought until he heard the whup-whup
of approaching helicopter blades.  “Fuck!”  Grabbing both girls by
the wrist, he dragged them after him, saying, “Stay under cover of
the trees!  They’re bringing in a chopper with a searchlight!”  The
three of them might not do Banner much good by hiding, he knew, but
getting caught themselves would make them even more useless.

Within minutes, a bright white light sliced across the open grass and
the tops of trees, and the three of them could hear the sounds of a
chase approaching as bodies crashed through brush and feet pounded
down paths, one set quite close to their hiding place.  They could
hear the men call to one another, “He was headed southwest to the
river, through the pine grove!”

Scott exchanged a glance with Jean and Ororo, then pointed wordlessly
in the same direction the cops were headed.  The three of them set
out after the cops.  The men were making so much noise trying to keep
up with Banner, they’d never realize they were being trailed.

“And what shall we do when we find them all?” Ororo whispered to
Scott.

“I haven’t got a clue, but I’m open to suggestions.”

“We have to keep Bruce from killing anyone else,” Jean said, voice
cracking.

“Shhh,” Scott scolded.  “Quit straining your voice.”

Jean shook her head and stopped, forcing the other two to stop as
well; they came back to see what she wanted, peering at her through
the darkness.  “We can’t let him kill again,” she said, voice barely
ghosting out.  “Bruce wouldn’t want that.  I know he wouldn’t.  We
have to stop this . . . creature.”

“And assuming we can stop him, what if the police *catch* him then?”
Scott asked.  “No telling what they’ll do to him!”

She nodded and waved, swallowing painfully.  “Then they catch him.
It’s what he’d want, Scott.  No more killing.”

*So be it,* Scott thought, but remembering the upended concrete trash
bins, he doubted the police had anything here that could hold Banner.
  A pair of steel handcuffs?  The idea was laughable.

They went on.

The cops had Banner cornered on Billings Lawn not far from a high
bank above the Hudson and just west of the old fort.  The chopper
circled overhead, two searchlights focused down, reflecting off the
fog as a good dozen police officers ringed the furious and protesting
green creature.  One of the police used a bullhorn to urge Banner to
surrender.

“Yeah, like he’s going to give up and go meekly,” Scott muttered from
where he, Ororo and Jean peered out from the shadow cover of the pine
grove.

But if the megaphone demands weren’t eliciting any positive response,
Banner also hadn’t attacked anyone yet, and he wasn’t, Scott thought,
inherently dangerous.  He was just confused and frustrated and angry.
  He’d killed the security guard because the man had hurt him, not
because he was mean.  “If they’d just quit harassing him,” Scott
said, “they might get somewhere.  He’s like a four-year-old having a
tantrum.”

“A very big four-year-old,” Ororo added.  “They are scared of him,
and he is scared of them.  It is not a good situation.”

“And we’re stuck here where we can’t do a damn thing.”  There was no
Warren to drop down and effect another angelic rescue, even if Warren
had been able to lift a seven-foot green giant who was quite a long
way from jolly.  “I have no tricks up my sleeve.”

Ororo clasped his arm gently.  “You are not a magician, Scott
Summers.”

“We came in unprepared!  We didn’t know what we’d be facing!” he
hissed.

“Exactly,” she said.  “We did not know what we would be facing.”  She
shook her head.  “Even Frank could not see.  Or he saw too many
things.  He will blame himself as badly as you.”

She was right; Frank would, and Scott subsided, though his fingers
continued to pick at the ground beneath his feet, digging nervous
furrows in the dirt.  “Too bad his wife isn’t here -- Dr. Banner’s
wife, I mean.  She’s probably the only one who could calm him down
right now.”

Beside Scott, Jean whispered, “That’s it!” and rose up from where
they were crouched.  “I’ll go tell them to call Betty.”

“Jean, no!”

“Scott, you just said it yourself, we need Betty to calm him down.”

“Yeah, but there’s theoretical and then there’s doable!”

“We have to try!  Getting Betty is a good idea!”

And Scott might have let her go if the question hadn’t been made moot
by the arrival of new reinforcements.  These had dogs who barked and
snarled and leapt at the ends of their leashes, enraging Banner
further.  Grabbing an ornamental bench from the edge of a path,
Banner laid about him with it so that dogs and handlers scattered.
Then he flung the bench at one edge of the encircling noose of cops
and they scattered as well.  He escaped through the gap, racing
almost due west towards the river.

“No!” Jean cried out -- fortunately at nothing louder than a croak as
Scott and Ororo both grabbed her to keep her from rushing out where
she’d be seen, even as police opened fire on the fleeing figure of
Banner and the dogs were released to give chase.

But only a handful of police were shooting; the rest were in mild
disarray.  The police chopper was another matter.  It circled out and
down to hover off the edge of the park embankment above the parkway
below, keeping its spots on Banner as he ran.  Behind Banner, the
police regrouped and followed.  Scott would have followed as well,
but there was little cover between the pine grove and the park edge.

The chopper’s placement proved strategic, but not for the police.
Dogs at his very heels, Banner leapt straight out from at the grassy
embankment of the park edge that overlook the Henry Hudson Parkway
below, and the river beyond that.  His burly arms sought and found
the landing gear of the helicopter, clinging like a leech and making
it swing wildly in the air as the pilot struggled to compensate.  It
might have been a spectacular getaway, except the police were right
behind and what a few shots from a security guard’s .45 couldn’t
manage, a barrage of fire from high-powered rifles could.  Bullet
spray struck Banner’s naked torso, causing him to jerk convulsively
where he clung to the landing gear.  For a moment, he hung on, but
then his grip slipped as his consciousness failed and his body
plummeted downward, missing the parkway to splash into the gray
waters of the Hudson itself.

Watching from even a hundred feet back, horror struck Scott mute as
Jean broke into croaking sobs beside him.  Meanwhile, the police had
rushed to the edge of the cliff to look down, and streetwise Ororo
recognized their chance.  Tapping Scott’s shoulder and getting hold
of Jean’s arm, she led them back inside the grove’s concealment, out
the other side, and then down paths until they spied a dark overhang
of rock screened well by vines and boxwood.  There, they hunkered
down to wait for full dawn, and Jean cried helplessly in Scott’s lap.

There were a few close calls as searchers passed near their hiding
place while looking for the body of the missing security guard.
Scott wasn’t sure why they didn’t stop to check the hollow.  Did they
not realize it was there, or had the professor somehow gently
‘redirected’ their attention?  Xavier was still out there, keeping
tabs on them, waiting the same as they were.  Finally, the guard’s
body was found, the police reopened the park to visitors, and Scott,
Jean and Ororo crept from their hiding place, doffing the kevlar
vests and folding them over to hide the X-target, then making their
way to the nearest exit.  They said little to one another -- had said
little all morning, their faces pulled somber by defeat.  Scott held
Jean’s hand the whole way but Ororo remained aloof, resisting his
touch.  “It is not the first time I have seen a man shot,” she told
him once, harshly, then apologized a few minutes later when they
reached the sidewalk outside.

“It’s okay,” Scott told her.

The professor had arrived with the Bentley in any case, pulling up to
the curb so they could pile into the back and sprawl in overheated
exhaustion.  “Where is Frank?” Ororo asked.

“Warren took him back to the mansion.”

Ororo nodded and stared out one tinted window as Jean laid her head
on Scott’s shoulder, short hair hiding her tear-stained face.  Xavier
studied them all in the rearview mirror.  “You did your best,” he
told them as he put the car in gear.  “That is all that we can ever
expect of ourselves, children.  And even so, sometimes, we fail.”

“A man’s dead, Professor,” Scott said, not in the mood for
platitudes.

“Yes,” Xavier replied.  “But you neither killed him nor caused him to
die.  And you did try to save his life.  Learn to recognize the
limits of your responsibility, son, or like Agamemnon, you’ll be
guilty of *hubris*.”

----

(Running for the hills before I'm sacked....)



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Rating: I really hate ratings... I guess around PG-13
Archive: Ask please!
Feedback: No thanks. Um, YES!!!
Summary: Jubilee gets fed-up.
Notes: This is all Natalia's fault. I made a comment about a picture of the
new Jubilee looking like a Power Ranger, and Nate challenged me and offered
me money, so, that's why this fic exists. Forgive me.

I Quit:
          After the mission everyone gathered in the Blackbird hangar to
debrief. Scott and Jean nuzzled lovingly, Bobby and Kitty were cuddling,
Remy held Rogue, even Ororo and Logan were exchanging meaningful glances.
         "That's it!" Jubilee exclaimed. "I can't take it anymore! Will they?
Won't they? Are they, aren't they? Did they? Didn't they? Are they? Aren't
they? WHO THE FUCK CARES?!" She waited for a reaction and got none. She
threw her yellow towel down. "I quit!"
          Jubilee wandered the Fox back-lot. A cold wind blowing encouraged
her to wrap her yellow jacket even closer around her.
          "Excuse me, miss? Would you like to star on a hit tv series?" A
woman asked her stepping out of a doorway.
          "Sure." Jubilee followed the woman onto a soundstage. Five
monochrome actors stood around.
          "Hi. Welcome to the Power Rangers!" They greeted her.
          "Power Rangers? Oh, what the hell?" Jubilee agreed to join the
show.
          "You can't say the h-word," the girl in pink scolded her, "we're a
family-friendly show."
          "My bad."
          "Come on guys. Let's show the new Yellow Ranger around." A guy in
red suggested. He handed Jubilee a comunicator and they all teleported to
headquarters.
          "I wonder if Kurt feels this dizzy after he teleports?" Jubilee
mussed.
          "What was your question?" A head suspended in a green tube asked.
Jubilee jumped.
          "Oh, um, nothing."
          The talking head looked kind of like the Professor when Jubilee
thought about it. And what's with crippled, bald, white guys being in charge
anyway?
          "The bad guy has sent a giant pus monster who is now destroying the
city," The giant head announced.
          "Ai ai ai yes!" A robot came scurrying out of the shadows and
turned on a crystal ball.
          "Ew that's disgusting!" Jubilee announced as she found herself
standing in front of the monster. "A few plasma blasts will take care of
this bad boy," She aimed to blast him, but nothing happened. "Damn alternate
universe!" The moster lunged at her. Jubilee promptly rolled into a ball and
hid until the fighting was over.
          After the mission everyone gathered in the Power Rangers
Headquarters to debrief. The Pink Ranger and Green Ranger nuzzled lovingly,
the Red Ranger and Black Ranger were cuddling, The Blue Ranger held the
robot, even the floating head and crystal ball were exchanging meaningful
glances.
         "That's it!" Jubilee exclaimed. "I can't take it anymore! Will they?
Won't they? Are they, aren't they? Did they? Didn't they? Are they? Aren't
they? WHO THE FUCK CARES?!" She waited for a reaction and got none. She
threw her yellow towel down. "I quit! I quit, I quit, I quit!"
          "Jubilee? Jubilee wake up!" Jubilee saw a fuzzy version of Kitty's
face when she opened her eyes.
          "Kitty?" She asked softly, "why does my head hurt?"
          Bobby helped Jubilee sit up, "One of Magneto's minions beat the
hell out of you. How are you feeling?"
          "Fine, I think. Where am I?" Jubilee asked.
          "The Medlab. Jean gave you some drugs to help you sleep," Kitty
explained.
          "That explains the crazy dream I just had."
          "About what?" Kitty wondered.
          "Me, joining the Power Rangers."
          "Ai ai ai!"






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Notes: this is from Rogues POV, and really just an exercise in
boredome. Enjoy.
TITLE: Alone
AUTHOR: Redd
RATING: PG.. Maybe.. for the word Breast
ARCHIVE: Lists, All others Ask and ye shall receive.
DISCLAIMER: I don't own Rogue, but these words are mine.
FEEDBACK: Please.


I am alone here in this place.
Yet people surround me.
I am in a bubble of cautious space,
The sense of touch taken from me.

Will I never hold a lover in these arms?
Or an infant to this breast?
Although this package has its charms
There is no one unafraid of the test.

So ever the outsider looking in,
I watch these couples touch.
I think that wishing should be a sin,
When it begins to hurt this much.

I can only accept quietly,
What I long to rage against,
And every day it weighs mightily,
This power that makes no sense.


side note: the above poem is Copyright 2002 C. Kennedy please don't
use without author's permission.

Title: Tag You're It
Author: cschoolgirl
Email: cschoolgirl70@...
Rating: PG (no pairing) 1/1
Summary: He really hated this game.
Disclaimer: Fox and Marvel have all the real power.
Archive: Lists.  Ask, I'll say yes.
Feedback: That would be nice, I will even read
criticism.
Author's Notes: Thanks to Jamie for the beta.  Khaki
is responsible for this being finished, without her
there would be no ending.
FYI: This is from Bobby's POV and is more of a trailer
fic than anything else.  If your curious it went with
the following pictures on Diebin's site
(http://www.tapfer.org/xmen/trailer/index.html):7, 27,
35, & 58 of the first trailer.


He really hated this game, but he did care what the
prize was.  This was the second time they had played
at night.  At least this time Logan wasn't 'it.'
Bobby was the first one at the rendezvous point; all
he could do was stay hidden and wait.

The game was a weird variation of tag.  The students
were divided into teams and assigned to one of the
teachers.  Once everyone knew their teammates, they
were separated and dispatched to far flung areas of
the mansion.  When the Professor, referee and
telepathic monitor, sent the message, everyone was to
make it back to the team rendezvous point.  After the
team was reassembled, they were to make their way to
base.  Tonight's base happened to be the rec room.

It sounded easy, but there were a couple of rules.
First, no powers.  Second, after meeting up you had to
work as a team.  Third, unless you were tagged you
couldn't interfere with the other teams.  Finally, the
teacher without a team was 'it,' and this time Mr.
Summers had that honor.

He was to tag as many students as possible.  When
someone was 'dead' the Professor would announce it to
everyone.  The tagged students joined the 'it' team,
and they didn't have to stay together.  That meant
that the first team reaching base with the most
surviving members won.

Jubilee came in from the hall, and he waved her over.
"We're waiting for Logan, Krista, and Michael."

She nodded.  "I swear Piotr lets himself get tagged
every time.  He likes..."

He clamped a hand on her mouth and signaled to a
barely audible noise behind them.  Damn, he didn't
want to 'die' this early in the game.  Unlike Piotr,
he didn't like playing 'it'.  He learned that the
first time he played the day version a year ago.   He
had been 'it' only one time since then.

"If you two are finished giving yourselves away, let's
go."  Bobby peered up from their hiding place to see
Logan standing above him.

They scrambled out from behind the bookcase.  Logan
was already at the doorway listening for movement in
the hall.  Cradled in his arms was Michael with Krista
in tow.

Michael and Krista were the youngest of the students
that had stayed during vacation.  Although the other
teachers had reservations at their inclusion, Xavier
was sure that the two younger students could handle
the game.  Bobby thought it odd that Logan had been
assigned the youngest students.

Logan motioned them over and Bobby decided to bring up
the rules.  He couldn't understand why Michael was
being carried.  "That's cheating.  Everyone has to
make it to base on their own two feet."

Krista gestured to Michael's leg, smiling broadly up
at Logan.  "Wounded."

Bobby looked down and for the first time noticed that
Michael was holding the sock and shoe from his left
foot.  His ankle looked slightly puffy.  Well, in that
case, he guessed the Professor made a ruling.  Nobody
was disqualified unless they were seriously injured,
and Michael was smiling.  Probably just a twisted
ankle.

His conclusion drawn, he felt a sharp pain on the back
of his head.  He stumbled forward a step from the
force of the impact.  Turning around he watched
Jubilee lower her hand after smacking him.

"Did you eat a bowl of stupid for lunch?  Wolvie would
never be caught cheating."  Narrowing his eyes, he
started to comment, but was interrupted by Logan.

"Bobby, take point."

He wanted to protest, but decided he didn't need to
get popped again.

Checking both directions, he snuck into the hall,
followed by Jubilee and Krista.  Logan brought up the
rear with Michael still firmly in his grasp.  Their
team needed to get to the end of the hall, past four
classrooms down the right corridor, then past the
foyer to the rec room.

Quietly making their way toward safety, there was one
room left.  Peeking in the door, Bobby saw Mr. Summers
surveying the room.  He held up a hand to halt the
team.  Drawing two fingers horizontally across his
eyes, he pointed into the room.  He hoped the others
understood what he was trying to tell them.

Logan nodded and indicated for everyone to cross one
at a time.  Tip-toeing down the hall to make as little
noise as possible, Bobby looked back when he heard
Logan swear.

"Haul ass you three."  Logan started running as Mr.
Summers rushed out of the room in hot pursuit.

Bobby ran past the foyer.  Entering the rec room,
Jubilee slid past him into the couch like it was home
plate.  Krista tripped and stumbled through the door
right behind them.  They all turned around to see
Logan barely slip in the room before being grabbed by
his shoulder.  Mr. Summers ran squarely into his back
as Logan came to a dead stop.  Without saying a word,
Mr. Summers straightened up and jogged back down the
hall in search of the other teams.

Ms. Monroe looked up from her place on the couch.
"What took you so long?"

Logan carefully set Michael down next to her before
stretching out on the far end.  "We had casualties."

"We lost one also," she commented, beginning to
examine Michael's ankle.

Krista and Jubilee settled down with Ms. Monroe's team
to watch TV.  Bobby choose to remain near the
entrance, where he could easily catch sight of the
other teams make their dash for base.

~~~~~

"Another team coming in," Bobby announced from the
archway ten minutes later.  Both Logan and Ms. Monroe
turned around to watch Dr. Grey's team make their way
down the hall.

Bobby counted the students.  "She didn't lose anyone."

At that same instant Kitty charged from one of the
rooms, tackling the last student to pass by.  The
others began running.   Dr. Grey jumped over the
tangle of limbs on the floor that was Kitty and Remy.
Piotr stepped out from the foyer effectively blocking
the end of the hall.  The entire team went down in a
big heap on top of him.  Only one of the smaller girls
was able to wiggle free and make it to safety.  Ms.
Monroe and Logan began laughing as the lone survivor
made her way over to watch TV.

As the other students left in search of the remaining
team, Dr. Grey headed to the couch.  "The Professor
tells me that there is a young man in need of
assistance."  She smiled warmly down at Michael
sitting beside Ms. Monroe.  "Do you think you can
walk, or do you need carried?"

Michael looked over to Logan, who raised an eyebrow
and shrugged at him.   Michael looked back up at Dr.
Grey and squared his shoulders.  "I think I can walk."
  They left hand in hand for the elevator.

Logan looked over at Bobby.  "Hank's got his work cut
out for him now; seven to five ain't good odds."

Bobby took the bait.  "Hank's smart.  He won't ..." he
trailed off as Logan began chuckling.

Moments later all eyes were drawn to the opposite end
of the room.  On the far wall a window seemed to be
opening on its own.  The bottom sash of the window
carefully inched its way up until two blue, furry
hands grabbed the bottom, pulling it completely open.
A pair of feet landed on the sill.  Dropping through
the window, John turned around to help the rest as
Hank lowered them from above.  After Rogue came
through the window, they stepped out of the way
letting Hank struggle to get his shoulders through.

"Oh my stars, I didn't anticipate this quandary."
Twisting and turning he unceremoniously landed on the
floor.  Several students giggled at the scene as Hank
got up and brushed himself off.

As soon as Hank recovered and gathered his team, the
Professor wheeled into the room followed by the 'it'
team.  "Well done, Dr. McCoy.  Your team wins
tonight's challenge.  If they would go clean up, we
will meet in the foyer in twenty minutes.  I will call
ahead to make sure the pizza is ready."

Hank's team began to slap him on the back and dance
around him.  Bobby almost laughed when they started
singing; he really hated to bring the rules up again.
"Umm...Professor, we weren't allowed outside of the
mansion."

Everyone stopped what they were doing and looked at
the Professor expectantly.  Bobby looked at Hank's
faltering smile and wished he hadn't said anything.

"Quite right, Bobby.  Technically they did leave the
mansion; however, they did not touch the ground.  I
will have to keep that in mind for future challenges."

The Professor maneuvered his wheelchair to leave.
"Nevertheless, Dr. McCoy's team is tonight's winner."
Everyone watched as he went down the hall.  ~I hope
everyone else enjoys their meatloaf.~

A loud shout came from Hank's team as they all ran off
toward the dorms.  Those students left simply looked
around at each other.  Bobby watched as Logan got up
and grabbed is jacket from a chair.

"Well, I'm headed out for the evening."  Logan smiled
at the others, put on his jacket and walked out the
front door.

Jubilee was the only one not able to hide her
disappointment as Mr. Summers and Ms. Monroe began
herding everyone to the dinning hall.  "No way dude,
this is so not right!"  Jubilee's eyes focused in on a
tall figure at the front of the group.  "Piotr!"

Bobby watched Piotr freeze like a deer caught in
headlights at Jubilee's high pitched yell.  Jubilee
raised her sparkling hands in the air and Piotr took
off like a shot down the hall with Jubilee in hot
pursuit.  Bobby continued into the dining area with a
smile on his face.  In the background he heard the
snap, crackle, pop of an irritated Jubilee.  He was
glad he didn't set off that firecracker.


~*~ end ~*~




=====
http://www.angelfire.com/comics/cschoolgirl/index.html

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DISCLAIMERS:  YOU KNOW HOW IT GOES...SABRETOOTH AND TOAD DO NOT
BELONG TO ME, THEY WON'T BE MAKING ME ANY MONEY. THAT PRETTY MUCH
SUMS IF UP.
FEEDBACK: YES!! ABSOLUTELY adnilnosnhoj@...
RATING: NC-17 (SEX, VIOLENCE, LANGUAGE)

SUMMERY: SEQUEL TO GOD BLESS THE CHILD WHO CAN HOLD HER OWN.
'TOOTH AND TOAD GO LOOKING FOR THE ONE RESPONSIBLE FOR BOMBING THE
CHURCH LAST SPRING.

THE OPENING POEM WAS WRITTEN BY ICEMANOFKS -THANKS SPARKIE!

GOD BLESS YE FERAL GENTLEMEN
                                                          By Linda J.
       Sequel to God Bless the Child that Can Hold Her Own

  God Bless Ye Feral Gentlemen
Let Fly Your Bloody Claws;
Creating Pain and Mayhem
Let Nothing Give You Pause;
To Slash and Kill and Main and Rip
All for Your Evil Cause;
Bringing Tidings of Misery and Gore,
Misery and Gore
Bringing Tiding of Misery and Gore!

                -icemanofks
The bed creaked with every thrust of Victor's powerful hips as the
slim and curvaceous woman willingly lay underneath him. Their bodies
moving in sync as he repeatedly plunged his eleven inches of meaty
masculinity into her tight, wet, pink blossom again and again as she
moaned with sheer ecstasy. Her long and lovely legs wrapped tight
around his waist as she dug and scratched her beautifully manicured
nails passionately into his broad muscular back only to have each
wound heal as quickly as it was made.
Then suddenly for no apparent reason, he stopped and slapped her
thigh. He lifted himself off of her as rolled over onto his back,
changing positions.
"I wanna finish this with you on top." He sensuously growled as he
grabbed for her and lifted her up and over his mid section allowing
her straddle his groin.
"That sounds good t' me too." The young buxom blonde brushed the long
strands of hair away from his face and kissed his full and pouty
lips. All the while she carefully avoided staring into his strange
demonic black eyes.
"You want me to go fast or slow?" she added as she fearlessly grabbed
his manhood holding it upright as she covered it with her warm and
moist femininity.
"Mmmm…" Vic expressed his pleasure. "Go fast, baby. I wanna see them
double D's bounce like basketballs."
She willing complied with his instructions and a few minutes later he
exploded inside her. Sabretooth roared in victorious delight, lightly
scrapping his claws across her silky smooth thighs as his precious
liquid came gushing out from his manhood, leaving a trail of blood to
trickle down her legs.
For a moment or two the girl's body stiffened from extreme intense
pleasure; then as she began to relax she felt the warmth of her own
blood making its way toward the sheets. She winced as her mood
quickly changed. "Oh shit." She then looked at the marks on her legs
and huffed. "You know these gashes will cost you extra!" She demanded
as she quickly dismounted and reached for the box of tissues that the
hotel had provided and began wiping the blood from her legs.
"Just for those little love scratches?" He argued as he grabbed his
bottle of Wild Turkey off the night stand and took a swig. "I got you
to cum twice before I came even once. I think you oughta pay me
instead ya lil' hooch!"
"Look, mister, I need to pay my bills just like everybody else you
know." She asserted herself. "Besides," She then added pitifully, "I
still need to buy Christmas presents for my baby."
Victor could tell she was lying but he didn't know which part of her
story was the lie. He didn't care to know either. What difference did
it make to him?
As the whore got her self dressed, Sabretooth reached over the edge
of the bed and found his pants. He sat up with his wallet in hand and
pulled out three hundred dollars. He didn't notice the folded up
piece of paper fall out of his wallet and land on the floor.
She reached down and picked it up as Sabretooth counted the money in
his hand. "Oh how sweet." She cooed. "God Loves You." She read the
caption from the paper as she unfolded it.
Sabretooth looked up at her to see what she was talking
about. "What?"
"Did one of your kids make this for you?" She sweetly asked as she
handed him the paper.
He looked at it for a moment before even remembering where it came
from.
"Oh that. Give it here." He coldly said as he handed her the money.
Sabretooth then laid the paper down next to him on the bed, picture
facing upward. He didn't give it another thought.
She cheerfully accepted the three Benjamins he offered. "Nice tip hot
stuff." She then colleted the rest of her things and put on her coat
before heading out the door.
"Be sure to look me up next time your in town OK?"  Then, just before
she closed the door behind her she said, "Oh…and merry Christmas!"
He grunted her a casual goodbye but said nothing else. He was still
sitting on the bed naked with the sheets wrinkled up covering his
lower torso.
He then reached for the remote and turned on the TV. He stopped at
the classic movie channel to see what was playing. He recognized the
movie instantly. It was "It's a Wonderful Life" with James Stewart
wishing he had never been born.
He was only half interested in watching it though; his mind kept
drifting off to reflect his own not so wonderful life.
Even though Magneto was still inside his plastic prison cell he was
still giving the orders; and as long as "Senator Kelly" kept
interrogating him on a regular basis, through Mystique, Magneto would
never lose control of the brotherhood or its cause.
The last order Magneto had for Sabretooth was simple and straight to
the point:
"STAY OUT OF TROUBLE!"
`Gee, Guess Mags figures even I can manage to follow that little
piece of advice.' Victor thought to himself as he took another swig
from his bottle and lit his cigar. He knew perfectly well what the
great and powerful leader of the brotherhood thought of him. And no
matter how hard he tried to prove otherwise, Sabretooth never could
break free from being stereo typed "great big dumb blond guy" that
has lots of muscle but very little gray matter.
He glanced down at the picture that some mutant girl had made for him
the day he went into some church last spring.
He tried to think of the girl's name but was having trouble even
remembering it. `It started with an M…I think. Mindy? No, that's not
it; wait…her name began with an M but I called her something else
that began with a T. Yeah…Tilly! That was it. That's what I called
the kid.' He felt satisfied now that he recalled the girl's name.
He picked up the picture Tilly had made for him and looked at it more
closely. This was the first time he had looked at it sense the day
she gave it to him. He recalled how uncomfortable it made him feel to
receive her little note. It made him feel just as happy as it made
him sad.
Then for what ever reason Sabretooth wondered if Tilly had really
made it for him in the first place; or did she just copy something
down and hand it to him to show off her work. `Christ! I'm so screwed
up in the head I can't even get a little note from a retarded child
without suspicion.' He grimaced to himself.
  He took another long hard chug or two from the bottle and puffed on
his cigar. He folded up the paper and returned it to his wallet.
He then remembered all the events of that strange and bizarre day
last May.
`Wonder if they ever replaced those stained glass windows?' He
recalled the one window that he especially liked and smiled as he was
able to recall its every detail. He never had an image impress him so
much before as the scene of that widow did. He still had no clue what
the picture was about but it made him feel something every time he
thought of it.
Reluctantly, he started to realize it had been ages sense he had felt
much of anything at all. With the exception of intense surges of
anger and hate, he was "feeling" less and less, and becoming more and
more empty every day.
About that time Sabretooth heard someone from the movie say, "Every
time a bell rings, an angel gets its wings." It was enough to make
him laugh out loud.
He then recalled the woman preacher going on about something
like "everyone is an angel at some point in their lives"…or something
like that.
`Guess if I hadn't decided to step in that day, things would have
gone pretty bad for them frails.' He proudly thought to
himself. `Wonder what they would think if they knew who really saved
their sorry asses.' He leaned back on the motel head-board and
chuckled; he was feeling pretty good about himself for a change.
He remembered thinking about visiting the preacher and her little one
Tilly around Christmas but now that the time was here, he was having
second thoughts. His mind had swung back to its more animalistic
nature and he was no longer in a soul searching mood like he was
earlier in the year. For the rest of the evening he puffed on his
cigar and took gulps from his bottle watching TV in peace without
giving the idea of going back to that town or the church another
thought.
Later that night he tried to sleep, but mostly he just tossed and
turned.
`Staying out of trouble ain't all that hard but damn it sure is
boring!' He kept thinking to himself.
The woman's scent was still all over the sheets, pillows and even on
him.
It made him yearn for her again but so much to fuck. He just thought
of how nice it would be to reach out in the middle of the night and
find another being sleeping beside him.
He sat up and reached for the bottle of whiskey only to find it
empty. `Damn healin' factor.' He cursed to himself. Even though his
healing factor was the only reason for him being alive that night;
it's what kept him from being able to dull the pain of living for so
long.  He got out of bed and on his way to the toilet, he looked into
the vanity mirror. `I even scare myself some times!' he joked as he
stared back into his own reflection.
He recalled the time soon after joining the brotherhood, Magneto made
him wear a pair of contact lenses so that he could pass more easily
as normal and therefore be more useful to the brotherhood's cause.
But his healing factor prevented his eyeballs from conforming and
adjusting to having a foreign object sitting on them. The constant
dull irritating itching and low grade pain was enough to put Vic into
one of his more violent "moods". In the end the only thing that was
accomplished by the event was it convinced Eric that it was pointless
to change Sabretooth.
Victor then noticed how close to the ceiling his head was. `Well
somebody don't hafta be a mutant if they're 7ft tall do they?' Then
he also took notice to how ALL his body was so out proportioned to
everything around him.
The vanity sink, the towels, even the plastic glasses the motel
provided were entirely too tiny for a man his size. `And what's with
these bars of soap?' He curiously wondered as he lightly pinched the
tiny bar of soap between the tip his index finger and thumb like it
was an after diner mint. `When Mags does take over this damn planet,
I'm gonna make every single hotel in the world put extra-large bars
of soap in their bathrooms.' He thought proudly to himself with a
pleasant smile on his face.
Then suddenly to his surprise he heard someone walking towards to the
door.
He didn't take long to detect the man's scent. Instantly he was as
much relieved as infuriated once he recognized the man's peculiar
odor. Sabretooth grabbed the sheet off the bed, and held it to his
groin. Before there was even a knock at the door, Victor swung it
open and glared at the muscular green man standing so smugly in front
of him.
"Waddya want Toad?" Victor growled.
"Now, now mate; is that `ow you greet your young and `andsome
brother?" Mortimer teased in his British accent. His posture may be
slumped over just slightly, but even so, he was a very proud and
confident man.
"I ain't got a brother, Wart!" The felinoid flatly declared. He knew
that Toad was only trying to get a rise out of him but damn if that
little green man didn't know what buttons to push.
"Tisk, tisk, tisk. An' I was about to give you a Christmas present."
Toad put his hand in his pocket as if he was reaching for
something. "Think I just might keep it for me self then."
Sabretooth cocked his head. Toad was a lot of things but a lair
wasn't one of them.
"What kinda present you got fer me any way, Wart? It better not be
any thing dumb!"
"Well aren't you at least going to invite me in? Maybe offer me a
splash of eggnog?" Toad not only enjoyed teasing the larger more
aggressive mutant, he down right relished every chance.
"No." Sabretooth huffed as he stepped back to allow his quasi-brother
in. Toad then strolled in but not without taking another verbal shot
at the felinoid. "You know a toga is supposed to cover more than just
your package mate. You're supposed to `ang it o'er your shoulder."
"Blow me Toad. I know how to wear a damn toga." Sabretooth growled
and walked back over to the bed to sit.
"I thought the sight a REAL man's cock would scare you." Victor may
not always be the quickest with the come backs but occasionally he
had one or two up his sleeve.
"Please, Bloat…" Toad chortled with a sly grin. "I've seen that twig
you've got dangling b'tween your `airy legs once or twice. Or did you
forget that cute little pigeon we shared last Christmas?
Victor grinned. "Gang rapes; gee I miss them good ol' days." He spoke
dreamily and licked his lips.
"Well, friend you can be as proud of that dick as you like, it's
still no match for this tongue o' mine!"
"That ain't what your mother said to me last night." Sabretooth
grinned.
"So what's this present ya got fer me?"
Toad then handed him a small piece of paper. "A name."
"Oh gee, what I've ALWAYS wanted!" Sabretooth's sarcasm made Toad
chuckle to himself.
"Yeah well, I'll let sis know you liked her gift."
Sabretooth looked somewhat confused. "From Mystique huh? Sense when
did she become Santa Claus?" He flipped the paper from one side to
the other to see if there was anything else besides the name.
"Alvin Payne; don't ring a bell." He looked at Toad not really
understanding what he was supposed to do next.
"Um…you know this is a lot like giving a kid a toy and forgetting to
add the damn batteries Wart! Did Blue even bother to mention what I'm
supposed to do with this?"
"Well Mystique thought you might be getting a lazy just sitting on
your `airy arse all this bloody time. So she's giving you this
bastard for a scratching post."
Victor slowly grinned as the amphibinoid continued to explain. "This
Alvin Payne chap is the leader of an anti-mutant organization that
makes the *FoH* look like a bunch o' grannies in a knitting club.
This band o' bullies call themselves, *Pure Pride*. Mystique learned
that `e's the wangker responsible for that church bombing you were
accused of committing last spring."
"No shit?" Victor was getting more and more intrigued in Mystique's
gift every minute.
"Say mate, you NEVER told us what you were doing at that church in
the first place." Toad asked with a twisted grin on his greenish face.
"Nunya Wart, so just drop it." He flatly warned. "Mystique wouldn't
happen to have this dead meat's address would she?"
"Her sources say that `e's plannin' to lead a demonstration on the
weekend b'fore Christmas against that very church. So we've got to
haul our arses that way ASAP if we're gonna make it in time."
"Great." Sabretooth said under his breath. His mind was beginning to
fill with strange and curious thoughts. Tilly's picture falling out
of his wallet that night was just a coincidence wasn't it?
Then suddenly…"What?" Sabretooth scrunched his face hoping he
misunderstood what he was sure Toad had said. "You didn't just
say "we" did you?"
By the expression on Toad's face, it was as unpleasant to give the
news as it was for Sabretooth to hear it. "Look mate, I would love to
turn `round and spend the `olidays with this lil bird who's livin'
with me now, but there's a bleedin' problem. This order comes
directly from Erik. From the way Mystique was carrying on, `e's more
than just pissed at us both right now and `e isn't going to tolerate
any more fuck-ups. Mystique says the ol' man was ready to drop us for
good, you especially." He couldn't resist stressing that fact. "You
can thank sis for coming up with this lil job as a sort of test to
see if we can do a job right and do it on our own. So, like it or
not, you and I just `ave to bare each other's company until we put
this bloody Alvin Payne on a cold `ard slab."
Sabretooth sighed. `First Christmas present I ever get in my whole
damn life…and I gotta share!'

The two mutants tolerated each other's company for the day and a half
it took them to get back to the little New England town he had met
Joyce and Tilly in the bringing of the year. They arrived on the
Saturday before Christmas; it was well after one o'clock.
Sabretooth blankly stared at the empty lot where the church once sat.
Now all that was there was a "Lot for Sale" sign and the old oak tree
where he had perched himself last spring.
A huge pile of dirty snow that the street crews had shoveled with
their plows covered over what had once been the drive way to the
church's parking lot. It was as if the town wanted to pretend the
church was never there.
The bleak and gray sky only enhanced the drab mood he was in. He sat
quietly on the passenger's side of an old beat up red FORD pick up
truck he and Toad had stolen from several states away. For a moment
or so, Vic thought to ask Toad to pull over; but his pride choked the
words before they could come out of his mouth. As soon as the traffic
light turned green Toad continued down the street heading towards a
mini-mart where they could buy a local newspaper. Perhaps it would
tell them more about where and when the demonstration would be held.
When they pulled into the mini-mart's parking lot and parked the
truck, Victor eagerly jumped out and stretched to his full height. He
yawned a lazy roar as he stretched his arms up over his head and bent
backwards relieving his broad and strong muscles from the tension of
being cramped up for so long. His usual leather attire and trench
coat was almost appropriate for the day's chilly wintry weather.
"I've done most of the bloody driving mate, so you can deal with the
normies!" Toad flatly asserted himself.
Sabretooth nodded his head. "Sure thing Wart; my people skills are
better than yers any way."
Just as he walked into the store he heard a young boy arguing with
the store clerk. "But I really gotta pee mister!" To which the child
was answered by a very rude and angry clerk. "Just go behind the
dumpster; our bathroom's for payin' customers only. Now beat it!" the
clerk yelled at the boy.
Victor casually strolled over to the counter behaving as if he hadn't
heard or cared in the least what had just happened. "Hey, bub…"
Sabretooth asked in his deep manly voice. "Need a copy of today's
paper and tell me where's the john."
As the boy left in a hurry, the clerk took Victor's money for the
paper, and told him the bathroom was outside around the side of the
building. "You'll need the key if you want to use it."
Sabretooth shook his head. "Don't need to use it, just want to know
where it is." He then went outside and with the newspaper under his
arm and then walked around where the metal bathroom door was and
kicked it in, tearing it clean from its hinges as if it had been hit
by a wrecking ball. "If you expect kids to stand outside and piss
where everyone can watch- then you can too." Victor said under his
breath as he walked back to the truck.
Then suddenly from behind, he heard "Woah!" Immediately he recognized
the boy's voice from last spring. He turned around and saw it was the
same kid who had found his leaping from the top branches of the oak
tree onto the ground so amazing.
"You don't get out often do ya?" Sabretooth asked sarcastically but
still the boy answered. "Um…I do, I just don't see many guys like you
around." The boy's voice was still choked up with awestruck
wonder. "Larry's gonna be pissed when he sees you kicked the bathroom
door in."
For a moment all Sabretooth wanted to do was say `So?' and walk away,
but he had a better idea. "Hey kid, help me out here." Sabretooth
squatted down to get closer to eye level with the boy leaving Toad to
wait and watch in the truck as he began to ask the kid a few
important questions. "You know anybody named Alvin Payne?"
The child shook his head. "No."
"You know anything about *Pure Pride*?"
The boy thought hard for a moment. "Well kinda. A lot of kids at
school have parents who belong to it and someone told me they were
having a meeting in town today."
"You know where it is?" Sabretooth allowed the boy to fidget and look
around. No point in pulling out any of his intimidation tactics on
this frail.
The boy shrugged his shoulders. "Not really. But I've heard some guys
saying that after tonight, Pastor Joyce won't be causing trouble any
more." The boy sounded both nervous and concerned.
Sabretooth unconsciously reached up and gently stroked his right
eyebrow as his mind went to work.
"I see the old church building is gone." He thought to ask. "Where's
the new one?"
For a moment the boy acted almost scared to continue talking to the
felinoid.
"Um…I think Joyce preaches inside the Lawson elementary gymnasium
now."
Sabretooth seemed genuinely interested in learning what had
happened.
"Well how come she didn't just repair the damages done to the old
church building?"
The boy shrugged his shoulders. "I don't know. We don't go to church
there any more. My parents got all freaked out and stopped going when
some guy started calling our house all the time. I don't know what he
would tell them, but it scared my mom real bad, mister. More than you
scare me I think!"
Sabretooth smiled at the boy's response a bit. "That's what sucks
with this world, kid. Even when you're mindin' yer own damn business,
there's always somebody itchin' to stop you in yer tracks." After
giving out his pearls of worldly wisdom, Victor stood up and walked
back to the truck.
"What the `ell was that all about?" Toad asked as he fired up the
truck and began to pull out of the driveway. "All you were supposed
to do was walk into the store and buy a bloody newspaper! Instead you
kick in door to the lavatory and then you start talking to some pint
sized punk!"
Victor completely ignored Toad as he opened the newspaper with a
brisk shake. He only glanced at it for a few moments when he abruptly
looked up from the paper as if a light had just come on over his
head.
"We need ta find Lawson Elementary School, Wart. That's where Payne's
gonna be."

The two mutants found the school quickly enough it was just off of
one of the town's busier streets. But to their surprise the
demonstration was apparently well under way. It was loud and unruly
as the normal people paraded up and down the street across from the
elementary school. Some carried signs while others yelled their hate
cries meant to intimidate the mutants in the area.
"I thought you said this bleedin' demonstration was at 7:30!" Toad
nervously eyed the crowd as he turned the truck into a parking lot
that was a block away.
"That's when Joyce starts the church service." Sabretooth coolly said
expecting Toad to automatically understand his logic. Toad simply
rolled his eyes in degust. "I don't believe you. A Church service?
Here? And what's the demonstration be for mate? The infringements on
the separation of church and state?"
Sabretooth softly growled at Toad for a moment as he parked the truck
in the lot. "Look, Wart I know my fuckin' job! You said this Payne
guy was demonstrating against that church he bombed last spring
right?" Sabretooth paused for a moment to see if Toad was at least
listening to him. Toad turned off the ignition and slowly
acknowledged Victor by nodding his head. "Well Joyce is having her
church services here in the school's gym now; she's even puttin' on a
Christmas play here- at seven fuckin' thirty! It said so here in the
paper!" He then slapped the news paper with his hand for
effect. "Now…" Sabretooth trailed off as he sat back and started to
concentrate. "Payne started this lil war-party nice and early to get
everybody charged up. What time is it anyway?" He asked out loud
looking at his watch. It was just about 3 o'clock. "If she and her
followers dare to show up here later this evening, I bet Payne's got
somethin' unpleasant planned for `em. We even know what this asshole
looks like?" He finally thought to ask.
Toad smirked. "Joyce? Who's Joyce? And no, we don't know what `e
looks like. But sense you've gone and turned yourself into Sherlock
Holmes that shouldn't present any problem."
Sabretooth softly growled once more at Toad's sarcasm. "Look Wart,
I've been trackin' and rackin', slicing and dicing low life sons of
bitches like Alvin long before you were a tadpole. I know what I'm
doing." He then sat back and started looking out into the parking
lot. Finally Sabretooth spotted what he had been looking for. A young
man had come into the parking lot and parked his car on the other
side of the same lot and was opening his trunk. Victor opened his
door and got out of the truck. "Com'on Wart."
Toad didn't much like Sabretooth playing the General but if it would
just get this job done and over with maybe he wouldn't have to worry
about going out on any more missions with this good for nothing alley
cat ever again. Reluctantly however he admitted there were a few
talents `Tooth had that he would love to adopt, one hell of a great
stalking technique was one of them, and when it came to sheer brutal
violence Sabretooth was simply the best. Still all and all Toad
preferred to do things in his own style and manner. He was a solo act
and a pretty damn good one or so he thought he had proven to
everyone. `Guess I can stand this asshole bossing me around for a
little longer' he thought to himself before joining the felinoid
outside in the parking lot.
Toad still felt very uneasy about all this wide open space, but
decided to deal with it as best as he could. It wasn't like he didn't
know how to take care of himself in such situations, its just he
didn't see the point in being so obvious.
They walked together side by side; not as friends but as soldiers on
a mission. Both mutants walked arrogantly up to the young man who was
leaning over his trunk, just as he pulled out his picket sign which
read, *Mutant scum pollutes the gene pool.*
  He was closing his trunk when he turned and saw them coming his
way.  Before he could run however, they encircled him. Immediately
Sabretooth began to growl menacingly while Toad asked the
questions. "Tell us where we can find Alvin Payne?"
The man sneered at them. "Eat me mutie!"
Toad shook his head mocking sympathy. "Poor choice of words me
friend." Sabretooth grabbed the man up by the neck and threw him onto
the asphalt. Victor then knelt down next to the man never releasing
his throat from his merciless grip.
"Now normie, care to give us the answer or does me mate `ere bite off
one of your fingers?"
The man winced in pain as Sabretooth squeezed his throat even
tighter. "Alright, alright." He gasped for air. "I don't think
Payne's coming here this afternoon. But he's officiating over a
special meeting here at the school tonight."
"Let me guess…" Sabretooth gave Toad a smirk. "This meeting's at 7:30
right?"
The man shook his head as best as he could with Sabretooth's large
thick and heavy fingers wrapped tightly around his neck. "Ugh-huh."
"Now bloat…tell us what `e looks like."
"He's in his thirties…about 5'10" and around 230lbs. He's got redish-
blond hair and its cut to the collar. Now please let me go. I won't
tell any one about this I promise." The man pleaded for his life.
Sabretooth coldly looked up at Toad. "You care to do the honors
Wart?" Mortimer said nothing but he spat out a thick and gooey glob
of his toxic mucus covering the man's mouth and nostrils completely.
Uncontrollably he screamed silent screams and thrashed wildly as he
quickly began to suffocate. Sabretooth still held the man's head in
place with is one hand, while pinning the man's one shoulder with his
knee and grabbed his other with his free hand. Toad's tongue shot out
from his mouth and wrapped itself tightly around the dieing man's
legs forcing him to lie almost sill.
The two mutants casually watched his face turn red, then blue and
finally black as he died from lack of oxygen.
They went through his pockets and stole what money they found before
Toad opened the trunk and Sabretooth stuffed his body inside, making
sure no one was watching.
"I guess we'll just come back later. Say are you hungry Wart?" He
asked as they closed the trunk on their most recent victim.
"Oh don't forget this." Sabretooth handed the sign the man had
intended to carry
to Toad.
"Yeah I could go for some food." Toad put the sign in the man's back
seat. He then quickly searched through the car taking the CDs and
cleaning out the change box.
He then found a carton of cigarettes under the driver's seat. "What
sounds good? I'm sick of hamburgers." He handed Vic the carton as
they started walking back to the truck. "You smoke right?"
"Mmmm…I was thinking of a slab of ribs with a side of potato salad
and a couple of beers." Sabretooth tried to say without drooling over
himself. "Newports…cool."
Toad thought about the idea for a moment and agreed. "Ribs it is
then. But I think I want cold-slaw for my side dish."
They drove away from the site without giving the murder another
thought.

It was almost 6 o'clock before the two mutants returned to the
school. The demonstrators were gone and it appeared that no one was
in the building.
Toad parked the truck much closer to the school this time, but still
out of plain view.
They had come back early enough to get a good idea of where
everything was and most important where the quickest exits would be.
The school's security system was located by the main entrance doorway
to the school. It was a very plain and unimpressive model that even a
new-be burglar could disarm. Toad kept watch while Sabretooth popped
the alarm's control panel casing with one snap of his clawed index
finger.
" `ow's it lookin' mate?"  Toad whispered while keeping his eye open
for any suspicious persons looking at them suspiciously. "Easier than
your sister after she's had a couple of beers."
Toad smiled. "I'll be sure to tell Mystique that when I see her
again."
Sabretooth studied the wiring for a second with a wild gleam in his
eyes. "Watch this!" He strangely grinned at Toad before he bent his
face down close to the wires and grabbed the red one with his teeth.
Suddenly there was a slight *zzzsht* sound followed by the distinct
odor of electricity burning. Sabretooth stood up. His nostrils flared
and he beamed with perverted glee. "The door should open now."
Toad glared at him for a moment and shuddered. "Ever sense that awful
night, I can't stand that retched smell much less think of willing
electrifying me self, you bloody fool!"
Victor licked his lips. "I like it now! Sometimes I even stick a
knife into outlets just for a little zing!"
Toad's eye widened even more than their already unusually large
size. "You really creep me out you know that right?"
Sabretooth shrugged his shoulders and returned the casing. For all
outward appearances, it looked as if the alarm was still active.
He quietly went inside as Toad followed behind.
"What time is it?" Sabretooth spoke in a low quiet voice as they
continued down the hall.
"Just a touch after six; so we `ave more than enough time for a quick
look-see." Toad's voice was equally low and quiet.
Both mutants had night vision that was far superior to that of any
ordinary human's so they were able to walk around the school in the
darkness with great ease.
First they went to the main office and rummaged through desks looking
for something that may tell them where this `special meeting' was
being held. They looked especially for anything that had *Pure Pride*
written on it. Unfortunately however they found nothing that would
help their search.
They then strolled through the corridors one at a time, glancing into
the classrooms that all closed up for Winter break without saying a
word to each other. Again looking for signs of where this evening's
meeting would take place.
Then, just as they turned the corner, they heard voices coming from
the far end of the hall. Immediately the two mutants went dashing for
a place to hide.
The boy's bathroom was the only door close by that was not locked and
so they practically leaped inside hopping they were not seen.
Sabretooth and Toad stood on the other side of the closed door
listening carefully to the voices down the hall.
Within moments Sabretooth recognized one of the voices and he sighed
in relief. "It's just the church lady; she's harmless." He calmly
told Toad as he opened the door to see what he could see.
Toad suddenly had a good idea. "Say, Victor do you think this lady
friend of yours could `elp us out `ere? Per'aps she can tell us where
this bloody meetin's supposed to be."
Sabretooth winced at the thought of dragging Joyce into the middle of
this; but a good idea is a good idea. "Alright; But let me do the
talking."
"Oh of course I'll let you do the talking Victor! It's your reunion,
not mine."
The two mutants boldly made their way toward the gym and stood in its
doorway watching those inside feverishly working to set the stage up
for the Christmas play.
For a minute or two they stood there quietly watching before an old
lady carrying a box of Christmas tree ornaments saw them. The instant
she saw them, the box dropped from her hands with a crash as the
ornaments inside broke into pieces. An angry scowl covered the
woman's face. "He's back!" she yelled. "Joyce, come out here right
now!"
Up until that time, Sabretooth had been looking forward to seeing the
middle-aged plump woman again, but now he wasn't so sure.
"Maybe this wasn't such a good idea after all." Toad whispered under
his breath just as Sabretooth felt a low fearsome growl rise up from
his belly and escape from his lips. Both men considered turning
around and avoiding the situation all together, but that would be the
coward's way out.
Suddenly from behind the stage curtain Joyce came out to see what was
the old woman carrying on about. The angry older woman pointed her
finger at Sabretooth and Toad as if she was tattling on them.
"Didn't I tell you there would be trouble tonight? I heard there was
going to be trouble tonight; I told you there would be trouble. And
look there he is…trouble! " She ranted on and on though Joyce
apparently ignored her and started walking toward Sabretooth with a
warm and welcoming look on her face.
When Joyce was close enough, she reached out her hand to
him. "Welcome back, Sabretooth. I'm really glad you made it back this
way."
At that moment Sabretooth let himself relax but only slightly. In
spite their spiritual leader's willingness to welcome him back,
obviously not everyone here was glad to see him again. Sabretooth
paused for a moment before holding his hand out to take hers. His
marveled at how she didn't even flinch when he took her regular sized
hand into his own enormous clawed hand and gave it a gentle
shake. "Hey." He softly, even some what humbly spoke to the woman he
was subconsciously beginning to recognize as a mother figure.
"So, um…where's the kid?" Sabretooth seemed to forget the Toad was
standing right next to him.
"Tilly? Oh she's in back getting her costume on. They're just about
to start rehearsal. You and your friend are both welcome to sit and
watch if you like."
Sabretooth looked at his watch. 6:30. "You might welcome us here but
what about them frails? Seems like some of yer flock here don't
remember it was me who through the damn bomb out the window." Victor
said seeming to be a bit offended.
"Let me explain." Joyce tried to sound a compassionate as she
could. "When the police and firefighters arrived, they asked us what
had happened; some mentioned that a visitor by the name of Sabretooth
had been in the service and next thing I knew the police were telling
everyone that you are some kind of terrorist or something and you
were there- then you must have had something to do with it. I'm
sorry."
Sabretooth tilted his head suspiciously. "So why are you apologizing
for them?"
"Because I know you're being wrongfully accused and that you deserve
to be treated with honor and respect. You tried to save us…not harm
us."
Sabretooth felt himself beginning to blush. "Well, um…say Joyce maybe
can you help us out here." Victor eagerly tried to change the
subject. "You know anything about a *Pure Pride* meeting here at the
church tonight?"
Joyce's looked at him confused. "No that can't be right. We're the
only ones here tonight."
"You sure about that?" Sabretooth was beginning to feel like a police
detective on a case.
"Absolutely." Joyce affirmed herself.
"Well preacher, one thing you can count on is that son of a bitch is
gonna to be here t'night." Sabretooth growled. "One more question. Do
you think any of these idiots would call the cops on us?"
"No. I won't allow it." Joyce grimaced a bit at him for calling her
flock `idiots' but realized this was not the man to argue politeness
with. She also knew she was sticking her neck out for him, something
to the effect of aiding and abiding a known felon, but in her heart
she knew she was right in doing so.
Sabretooth nodded his head. "Good; `Cause if someone makes any
trouble for us," His voice was low and threatening. "Then we'll make
trouble for them."
  He then nudged Toad on the arm. "Com'on, let's watch the rehearsal."
The mutants walked over to the bleachers and both leaped upward
landing safely on the top row.  From there they watched the group of
people trying to put together a manger scene and decorate a Christmas
tree all on the same stage.
"Just tell me somethin' mate." Toad spoke quietly even though
Sabretooth was the only other one around to hear him talking. "Why in
hell are we sitting on these hard word benches watching some stupid
Christmas play?"
Sabretooth chuckled a bit to himself. "Well it's just as easy to hang
out here as anywhere else. Besides, I ain't been to one of these
before. It might be fun to watch." He mused as he kept a watchful eye
on those who appeared to be keeping a watchful eye on them.
"I don't get you Victor." Mortimer found old gum wrapper and picked
it up. He began tearing it into tiny pieces and rolled the pieces in
between his fingers, making them small balls to throw aimlessly into
the air. "What `ave you in common with any of these wangkers? Are you
and the vicker aren't lovers are you?" He teased to see Sabretooth's
reaction.
"No! Hell, no!" Sabretooth protested. "She's just as delusional as
Xavier. Besides, Wart, you know she ain't my type." He then cupped
his hands to his chest to emphasis large bouncing breasts.
"Delusional…is that today's big word?"
Sabretooth glared at Toad and growled loud enough for some on the
floor to hear.
"Don't push me, Wart. Rippin you up while we're on this mission may
not be a smart idea, but I got a real long memory."
"Calm down, calm down." Toad tried to appease the felinoid. "I'm
just `avin some fun mate. Didn't mean to piss you off."
For the next few moments the two just sat quietly on the bleachers,
watching at the activity on the floor.
Sabretooth finally broke the ice once more. "Waddya think Wart?
Should we take the direct approach with this asshole or keep it low
profile?"
"It's up to you mate, I just want to get the job done and be on my
way `ome before the end of the night." Toad seemed to be somewhat
worried. "I didn't much like being dragged away from Melissa and miss
our first Christmas together."
Sabretooth glanced at him for a moment, gently nodding his head and
offered him an approving smile. "You got yerself a lil' house-mouse
huh? Good to see you finding a life outside of that damn cave!" He
tried not to sound jealous.
"That ain't all, Vic…" Toad blushed shyly. "She's got a bun in `er
oven."
Sabretooth's jaw nearly hit the floor. "You got a kid on the way too?
Good for you!" It was a lot harder to hide the jealousy this
time. "You gonna marry her ain't ya?"
Toad picked at one of his leather straps that dangled from his black
leather jacket. "Mmmm…I don't know if I'm ready for that kind of
commitment `Tooth. That's a seriously big step, I just don't know if
we're ready for that kind of…"
"Ya don't want yer kid growin' up a bastard do ya?" Sabretooth felt
the volume of his voice increase and tried hard to lower it to a
whisper.
Toad then began to remind himself this is why he didn't like
discussing personal matters with anyone. "Look bloat, it's been very
interesting to learn that even a black heated mother fucker such as
yourself has a soul too, but I don't think your qualified to tell me
how to run my life!"
Feeling dejected, Sabretooth grunted and turned away. "I didn't mean
to piss ya off Toad. Hell, do what ever you like. See if I care."
"I plan to do just that!" Toad then gave him a cheeky grin.
The play was about to begin. The old lady who first spotted `Tooth
and Toad, started pecking away at the keys of an out of tune upright
piano. The lights dimmed just slightly and the first to come out was
a young girl who looked to be ten maybe eleven. She wore an angelic
robe and held a scroll in her hands. She went over to the far side of
the stage and from there she narrated the story.
The first scene was Mary and Joseph making their way to Bethlehem of
coarse. And even though the kids remembered their lines, the director
had to remind them over and over to speak up so that the people in
back could hear.
Next came the scene at the inn and so on. All the while both `Tooth
and Toad glanced around the room looking for anything suspicious.
Then for the finale all the little angels came out to sing "Hark the
Herald Angels Sing". Tilly was dressed up as angel and was being led
on stage by the hand, to sing with the other angels. However when it
came time to sing she only wanted to run around the stage instead.
One of the older girls dressed up as an angel tried to put her back
in her assigned spot. Immediately Tilly screamed angrily and bit the
girl on the hand. The older angel then screamed in pain and yanked
her hand away- hitting the cardboard camel with her elbow, knocking
it down. As the camel tumbled downward a little boy dressed up as a
wise man jumped out of its way. But as the wise man scurried away
from the falling camel, he accidentally stomped on Mary's foot making
her howl in pain and throw the baby Jesus doll up in the air.
Sabretooth and Toad both bust out laughing and even began
applauding. "Bravo! Don't change a thing!" Toad yelled and Sabretooth
whistled.
Tilly was immediately escorted off the stage and was made to sit next
to her mother. But just as the commotion was over, and all the props
were back in place, several men came barging into the gymnasium. They
were each carrying scores of anti-mutant propaganda leaflets. It was
clear that no one in the room was glad to see them. An outraged Joyce
stood up and raced over to the doorway just as Alvin Payne made his
entrance.
"What do you think you're doing Al?" Joyce didn't waste any time
beating around the bush.
"Why Joyce, what on earth are you doing here?" His surprised act
didn't fool her for a minute. "Oh my, my, my, the school secretary
really should look at her calendar more closely. Well its Christmas
time and we want to show everyone that we mean you no ill will. We'll
gladly wait back here by the exit doors until you are through."
"Oh I'm sure you will." Joyce's olive complexion face was turning a
dark shade of red as she confronted Payne. "And you and your goons
will be taking names down as soon as you see who comes to the play
won't you."
"Joyce, you paranoid, hypocritical, mutant loving, cow." Payne saw
there was no real point in pretending to be nice any longer. "That's
assuming anyone would bother to show up to this freak show in the
first place."
Sabretooth and Toad watched the two arguing as they began discussing
there next move.
"Well, there `e is, mate. `e's all yours." Toad whispered quietly and
Sabretooth began growled softly at his prey.
Sabretooth stood up slowly and for the first few moments it was as if
he was in some kind of time wrap machine that slowed his body
movements to a crawl. He went from almost standing to getting on all
fours; resembling a cat stalking its prey. As he inched his way
towards Payne, his movements were silent and went completely
unnoticed. With the lights already dimmed down Sabretooth was able to
close in on Payne and wait for the perfect moment to strike.
Sabretooth patiently waited for Joyce to move out of the way before
striking.
Then just as Joyce stepped back for a moment, he leaped off the
bleachers and soared in the air heading straight for Payne. In his
mind he had already decided to plunge his claws deep into the middle
of Payne's chest, when suddenly from the corner of his eye,
Sabretooth saw Tilly standing close by her mother who was less than a
foot away. Instantly his momentum changed. He wiggled his body in mid
air so that his legs came around and kicked Payne in the chest rather
than his claws. Sabretooth landed on his hands and hand-sprung him
self upright as Payne's body went sailing out the doorway and flew
several feet into the hallway landing with a loud thud.
Toad too was soon leaping onto the floor and he went out the door
after Payne. Payne's goons had no idea what to do; follow after Toad,
try to take on this 7ft maniac or run out another exit. Most of the
men were nothing more than cowards who ran for the exit. Only one was
foolish enough to take on Sabretooth who merely roared harshly at him
causing him to soil his pants on the spot. Immediately the man ran
out the exit as well. Oddly, none of Pure Pride members felt that
Payne's life was worth risking their own and so he was left to fate.
Toad came upon Payne who had managed to sit up who was nearly halfway
down the hall and gasping for his breath; he had the wind completely
knocked out of him. "For the life of me I don't understand why that
dim-witted dumb animal didn't finish you off back there, but…oh
well." Toad spoke irritably as the weakened and dazed man looked
innocently up at him just before Toad slung his powerful leg across
Payne's jaw, causing the man's neck to twist hard enough for it to
snap in two. Instantly the man's upper-body fell back to the floor
making another thud.
Then from behind, Sabretooth stormed passed Toad and the body without
giving either of them a glance and headed out the door in a huff.
It didn't take Toad much effort to catch up with him and both mutants
chose not to speak until they reached the truck.
Mortimer wasn't really sure how to react to what had just happened.
They were sent out to prove they could complete a job successfully
and yet Sabretooth failed. On purpose for all he could tell. It was
crazy.
"Vic, it's not like I'm a fan of yours but com'on brother…what in the
fucking `ell was that all about?"
Sabretooth never stopped staring at the road ahead of him. "I ain't
gotta a brother." Was all he said in a quiet low tone.
Sabretooth's unusual silence was strange and eerie. For a moment or
two Toad would have liked to hear at least one of `Tooth's
spontaneous grunts. This was not the Sabretooth he had learned to
tease and torment. `Perhaps it's for the best.' Toad sadly thought to
himself.
They were almost twenty miles out of town on a dark county road, when
Sabretooth demanded that Toad pull over. He turned to speak to
Mortimer before getting out of the truck. "Take care of that kid
Toad. She's gonna need you around so take care of yourself too." He
grabbed the cartoon of cigarettes they stole from the dead man's car
and closed the door. The lights from the head beams only partially
lit his face as he stood along side the truck.
Toad was almost afraid to ask. "Are you leaving the
brotherhood, `Tooth?"
Sabretooth wouldn't look him in the face, but shook his head
firmly. "No it's not like that. Tell `em I'll be back. I just need to
clear my head first."
"Alright then." Toad was beginning to feel a bit uncomfortable saying
good-bye to someone he didn't particularly like, nor particularly
hate. "Where are you headed if you don't mind me asking?"
"Back there." Was all Victor said before he began walking back toward
the town they had just left.
Toad watched him in the rear-view mirror for a few minutes to see if
he may change his mind and turn around. But soon after, it seemed
obvious that Victor was determined to walk away from the brotherhood
for a while at least.  As Toad put the truck in gear and resumed
driving, he thought about all that had happened to him and Victor
that day. `Poor bloody fool; he knows Mags will cook `is goose once
the ol' man finds out about t'night.'

Victor made it to one of the main roads that led back into town and
caught a ride with someone on their way to work.
With a lot of skillful tracking and a little luck, he was able to
find Joyce and Tilly's home by sunrise. It was especially
advantageous that they lived about five miles out of town in an old
farm house on a dirt road off the main highway.
`Peace and quiet; No neighbors to meddle in yer business. They sure
know how to live.' He mused to himself as he bravely walked through
the snow onto the back porch.
It was the morning of Christmas eve.
He looked in the window to see if anyone was awake. `Everyone's
sleepin, good.'
Sabretooth he opened the screen door trying hard to keep it from
creaking then   tried the old wooden door to see if they even
bothered locking it. `Well things wouldn't go that easy for me now
would they.' He grossed upon finding out the door was locked up.
He then went looking for a conveniently located window crawl through.
Over on the left side there was a single pained window. `Bingo!'
He wiggled the window frame a bit and to his surprise he found it un-
locked. Carefully he inched the window upward until he was able to
climb through.
He quietly began roaming through the old fashion country styled home
looking curiously at everything he saw. The furniture was old but
cozy and the house was full of Christian themed pictures, paintings,
and nik-naks. There were also scores of pictures of family and
friends every where.
The Christmas tree in the living room was short and full. It only
stood maybe 4-41/2ft tall but its diameter was twice that size.
It was covered in a variety of colored ornaments and lights. It was a
hodge-podge of Christmas tree ornaments and collectibles spread out
over the branches with no specific theme in its color or design. He
walked over to the tree to get a closer look; occasionally reaching
out with his index claw and touching some of the ornaments hearing
them clink and tink from hitting his hard black claw.
Then from behind he heard small foot steps coming down the stairs. He
turned around to see Tilly sleepily making her way toward him. She
was wearing a pair of pink pajamas. Her slippers were pink fuzzy
furry looking things that even Sabretooth had to think was cute.
Her white hair still a mess. He felt his heart jump into his throat
as he began asking himself why the hell did he think of this dumb
idea in the first place.
"Hey, sleepy head." He gently called out to her.
Much to his surprise, she behaved as if she was expecting to see him
there. She rubbed her eyes as she walked up next to him and leaned on
him for a moment as if she was hugging him. She then picked up a
children's bible from the coffee table and sat on the couch. She
began flipping through the pages as if she was reading. Not once did
she say a single word.
`Weird.' He couldn't help but think.
He then sat next to her and began reading along with her, trying to
keep his voice as low as possible. It was about twenty minutes later
when Joyce made her was down the stairs. She came down wearing maroon
colored sweat pants and shirt. By the reaction on her face she was
NOT expecting to see Sabretooth in her living room.
Victor saw her fear and tried to reassure her he meant her and Tilly
no harm.
"I didn't come here to hurt nobody." Victor spoke in a low deep voice.
For a moment Joyce just calmly stared at him not sure what to do or
say in response.
"I know you didn't." She softly said in a firm but polite manner. "Um…
Sabretooth I was about to make breakfast would you like some?"
At first he shook his head. "No. I'm fine."
"Would you please come with me into the kitchen anyways? I would like
a word with you." Joyce's tone definitely reminded him of Magneto. He
stood up and followed her into the kitchen, watching to see if she
was planning on pulling out a weapon of some kind on him.
Instead she went to the frig and took out a cartoon of eggs and a lbs
of beacon. "Are you sure you don't want anything?"
He was beginning to recall how long it had been since he last had a
home cooked meal.
"Um…" He pretended to not care much one way of the other. "Yeah,
alright; I'll take mine scrambled."
Joyce smiled. "Good. Say would you mind making the coffee?" She then
began telling him where to find everything. Within a few minutes,
Sabretooth was feeling pretty much like one of the family and he
began believing that they too saw him s part of the family.
The beacon was sizzling when Joyce finally asked him, "Why are you
here?" again there was very little difference between her voice and
Magneto's
For a moment he really didn't know what to say. He'd been asking that
very questioned to himself all night.
"I want you to know that Payne's the son of a bitch who bombed yer
church."
"I know." She calmly said as she started cracking the eggs into a
large bowl and scrambling them with a fork. "But even still, I can't
condone killing him. That puts us on the very same low level he is;
not to mention it's a sin. A very serious sin." She chastised `Tooth
but in a gentle even motherly manner.
Victor chortled aloud. "Oh yeah, I forgot what yer job was; church
lady."
He then went to change the subject. "Say, how come the old church
ain't there no more."
Joyce's face seemed very sad all of a sudden. She sighed a bit before
explaining. "Well an awful lot happened after you left…and to make
the story short…after the bombing, the church building was wrongfully
labeled an "un-safe" building, and it was condemned. For one reason
after another, people were either too frightened or fed up with the
harassment of belonging to our congregation. We ended up in the
school's gym as a last resort."
"So why do you bother with this anyway?" Victor wondered.
"Because it's the right thing to do." Joyce insisted as she removed
the cooked beacon from the frying pan and poured out the grease.
"Would you get the butter out of the frig and put it on the table?"
She asked as she started preparing everyone's plate.
As everyone took their seats, Sabretooth dove into his scrambled eggs
and beacon while Joyce and Tilly took time to say grace.
Tilly put her hands quietly together while Joyce prayed aloud. "God
is great, God is good; lets us thank him for our food. Amen."
Sabretooth ignored them entirely and just continued to chew his food
and gulp his coffee.
"I don't wanna be rude, preacher but…what's up with your daughter?"
Sabretooth tried as hard as he could to be tactful and failed.
Joyce looked up at him and smiled politely. "Tilly's autistic."
"Well I know she can draw but what artistic got to do with her not
talking?"
Joyce chuckled a bit. "No AU-tistic; not artistic. It's a disorder in
the brain and there is no cure for it."
Sabretooth shook his head. "But she ain't retarded is she?"
"No. It's something completely different from retardation."
"Will she ever talk?" He bluntly asked.
"I'm praying she will." Joyce smiled as she took a bite of her toast.
"Prayer;" Sabretooth chuckled. "Does that ever work?"
"Yes." She proudly said. "I prayed you would come back and here you
are."
Sabretooth suddenly felt extremely awkward. "Why would you pray for
that?"
"Because…" Joyce openly admitted. "Tilly likes you, and if Tilly
likes someone, than that means God has a plan for them."
"Oh." He said and blushed a bit. "That's good ta know." He half-
hearted said.
He finished his breakfast with nothing else to say and then awkwardly
tried to excuse himself out the door. "Well thanks for the grub,
preacher, I need to be on my way, just wanted to see if you and the
kid were OK after everything that happened last night."
Joyce nodded her head. "We'll be heading back into town in a little
while. This IS Sunday morning and we still have a church service this
morning...I hope." She added. "Can we give you a ride?"
"Nah." Was all he said before opening the front door. He then stooped
down to give Tilly a warm hug as she wrapped her frail arms around
his broad neck. "Take care Munchkin."
"Well Sabretooth, you're always welcome here. Just remember that."
Joyce reminded him as he stepped out onto the front porch.
He looked back at her "Victor…My name is Victor Creed."
"Merry Christmas Victor." She kindly said as she closed the door
behind him.
`Yeah, I think I might have one at that.' He grinned as he headed
toward the highway. –THE END

Looking for fic about a groups of OCs that is set during the movie.
One of the stories has the OCs tracking Rogue until they can get a
fix on her location and call in the X-Men.  In another, the group has
to protect the school and the Professor while the X-Men are rescuing
Rogue.  I think one of them might be Caliban.

Sound familar?

Indy

Cease The Moment
By Nadja Lee                                     31/08/02

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. After movie

Universe: Set in the movie universe; NOT the book which goes with it.

Romance: Logan/Rogue, Scott/Kitty

Summary: A lazy Sunday the X-men take an online test to figure out which decade
they should have been born in and it makes Kitty think of something she always
meant to say to Scott….

Archiving: Want, ASK, take,  have.

Feedback: Yes, please. My e-mail address is nadjalee2000@...

Rating: PG

Sequel/series: None

Author’s notes: Should there be a warning for silly, romantic little fics like
this one? Probably. Thanks as always to Estelle for Beta and so much more.



*                    *                      *

“What are you doing?” Xavier asked mystified as he saw Kitty sitting in front of
the computer, Logan standing beside her with his arm around Rogue’s shoulders.
Jubilee leaned over to see the screen, Bobby close to her while Scott and Jean
stood on either side. So this was where everyone went on Sundays, Xavier
figured. Well, save Ororo who was out watering her beloved plants.

Logan had been back for three years now but it was still hard for him to get
used to the now twenty year old Rogue, Kitty, Jubilee and Bobby fighting with
the X-men.

“Professor, we…” Scott began as he turned to face him, trying for a sober tone.

“We’re just foolin’ around,” Jubilee said and ruined Scott’s excuse even before
he could say it.

“Oh, with what?” Xavier wheeled over to them and looked at the screen. It was
some sort of question sheet from the Internet.

“It’s an online test. You answer some questions and you’ll then be told in which
decade or age you should have lived,” Kitty explained.

“Doesn’t sound very scientific,” Xavier remarked but was intrigued all the same.

“It isn’t. The possibility of this test to…” Scott began to explain, having
already calculated the exact figure in his head.

“Shut up, Scooter,” Logan bummed good naturally, his half smile softening his
words as he tightened his grip on Rogue.

“Okay, so who should go first?” Xavier asked.

“Why don’t you try and let’s see,” Rogue suggested. Xavier nodded and with
Kitty’s help answered the questions.

“Okay, here it is,” she said as the result came up and all had to restrain
themselves from laughing as they saw the picture matching the answer text. It
was of a man with long wild hair in hippy clothes, flowers in his hair,
sunglasses, a t-shirt with the anti-nuke symbol and giving the ‘V’ sign with one
hand while holding a joint in the other.

“That’s me?!” Xavier didn’t know what to say.

“It’s an improvement,” Logan grinned.

“You mean to say he once had that much hair?” Bobby mumbled doubtful.

“I heard that,” Xavier bummed and Bobby blushed.

“Okay. It says; ‘you’re the late 1960’s. You dream of the dawning of an age
controlled by love, a time when peace controls the planet and we’re free from
oppression and wars. Make love, not war is your motto and you love nature and
flowers. Oh, and legalise hash...yeah, man.’”

Everyone burst out laughing.

“Very funny. Next one,” Xavier insisted but a smile tug at the corners of his
mouth.

“Anyone brave enough to try?” Kitty grinned. Her eyes found Scott’s and she
flashed a brilliant smile at him he couldn’t resist. “Scott?”

“Very well,” Scott smiled at her and came forth to stand beside her chair, his
hand just exactly brushing against her bare shoulder and she smiled. She ran the
questions over with him and they all waited for the result….and when they saw
the image they all broke out laughing again. It was of a young man with long
hair, dark sunglasses, one earring, black t-shirt, long black leather coat,
black boots and blue very tight fitting cowboy pants.

“Wow! I would pay to see you in that!” Jubilee said and grinned as a small blush
went over Scott’s face.

“Me too,” Kitty mumbled and blushed at where her thoughts were heading.

“What does it say?” Bobby asked.

“Oh, yes. It says; ‘you’re the 1980s. You have a tendency towards brooding and
doomsday thoughts. You always expect the worst to happen and are torn between
trying to save a dying world and giving up on it all. You’re confident and
strong but underneath are pain and doubt. Play it cool.’”

“Very fitting,” Bobby grinned.
”Funny,” Scott laughed and muffled Bobby’s hair.

“Hey, watch the hair,” Bobby protested. “My turn now,” he insisted and Scott
stepped back to let him come forth. Kitty again ran the questions over with him
and they waited for the result. This time everyone smiled when they saw the
matching image. It was of a knight dressed for battle kneeling before a lady,
offering her a flower.

“Very like you,” Jubilee grinned and kissed Bobby’s cheek.

“Yes, he even gave me an ice rose when I started here,” Rogue remembered fondly.

“What does it say?” Scott asked.

“Okay. It says; ’you’re the age of chivalry. You help others, battle for your
right and your love. When you fall in love you give it all. You’re very genius
and kind. God be with thee, good sir’,” Kitty read.

“Maybe we should make you the new leader of the X-men. We could use a knight on
our side,” Scott smiled.

  “I’m a knight! How cool is that?” Bobby grinned happily.

“At least some are happy for their image,” Xavier joked offence and they all
smiled.

“Let me try,” Jubilee asked and Kitty ran the questions with her and went to the
result. Everyone laughed when they saw the image. It was of a woman dancing
disco, wearing a big and glittering dress.

“Nice moves, Jubes,” Bobby teased.

“Shut up,” Jubilee gave back and playfully hit him over the head.

“Okay, here it says ‘You’re the 1970s’…” Kitty began.

“I think we all got that one down,” Scott smiled while still looking at the
picture, imagining Jubilee dancing like that.

“UGH. Men!” Jubilee complained and playfully hit him over the arm.

“You love dancing, shopping….,” Kitty continued.

“No, really?” Logan mumbled, remembering all the times Scott had somehow gotten
him to drive her to the mall instead of himself.

“…and wearing unusual clothes. Life is a game and a feast. Go enjoy it’,” Kitty
finished reading.

“Okay, try the two lovebirds then,” Bobby nodded towards Logan and Rogue.

“Okay,” Kitty nodded to Rogue and ran the questions over with her. The resulting
image was of a woman in a nurse uniform.

“Very fitting,” Scott smiled warmly and Rogue nodded to him.

“Thanks.”

Logan saw it in his right to cast Scott a warning look but Scott just grinned at
him.

“It says; ’you’re the 1940s. You’re a woman of strength yet valuable, you can
seem untouchable but someone is waiting for you. You care a lot for others and
want them to heal; you fear hurting others and would do anything to prevent it.
Find that loved one and never let him go’,” Kitty finished and Rogue nodded,
liking the answer.

“Logan?”  Kitty questioned. Logan bummed a yes and she ran the questions with
him. The resulting image was of a soldier, gun in hand.

“Now, this is getting creepy. That was right on target,” Bobby said and Scott
nodded.

“Very good indeed,” he added.

“Okay, it says here; ‘you’re the 1940s. A man of unique strength and abilities.
You fight for your country and your loved one. Two words can summon it up;
warrior and protector. Be the first in battle and the latter to your family’,”
Kitty read.

“It’s very telling indeed,” Jean nodded, saying something for the first time
since Xavier had arrived.

“And you match. You got the same decade; a match made in Heaven,” Jubilee
insisted and everyone smiled.

“Okay, Jean. Your turn,” Scot said and the others nodded.

“Very well,” she agreed and ran the questions over with Kitty. The resulting
image made them all laugh. It was of a woman dressed in a spacesuit with
Princess Leia look-alike hair.

“I think you should always wear your hair like that,” Jubilee grinned.

“What does it say?” Jean asked with a smile.

“Let me see……’You’re the future. You’re strong and independent; you’re modern
and go where time takes you. You have a playful side that you barely let shine
unless it’s to achieve your goals. You’ll go far in this word but remember the
people you meet along the way; success when finally reached may not be worth the
sacrifices’,” Kitty ended and a strange silence settled over the earlier so
playful group. Jean and Scott avoided each other’s eyes. Her work had been one
of several reasons to their break-up two years ago.

“Okay…now, it’s your turn, Kitty,” Bobby insisted, putting on a playful tone to
try and ease the sudden grim mood.

“Okay,” she made the test quickly as she had read all the questions so many
times before. The result image came up. It was of a young woman in a beautiful
dress, her hair long and sat in a fancy coiffure. She had a fan in one hand and
smiled at them.

“Beautiful,” Scott and Bobby said at the same time and Kitty blushed while
Jubilee grinned. A hard look from Jean made Scott blush even though he had no
reason to.

“Hey, a man has a right to dream,” Logan defended Scott but Rogue elbowed him in
the stomach.

“Not you, mister,” she insisted.
”I would never dream of anyone but you,” Logan promised and kissed the top of
her head.

“What does it say?” Scott asked Kitty, leaning in closer to look at the computer
screen. Kitty licked suddenly dry lips.

“It says; ‘you’re Victoria’s England. You’re beautiful, kind and pure. You would
never hurt anyone and you’re still waiting for your knight to arrive. You dream
a lot but while you can dream anything you need to do something about it
yourself if you really want it. Cease the moment’,” Kitty ended, her voice soft.

“Very beautiful,” Scott mumbled.

“Yes, they write very nice on this page,” Kitty answered, her thoughts far away.

“I meant you,” Scott said softly and kissed the top of her head. Cease the
moment…..

“That was fun,” Jubilee said and went towards the door. “Bobby, coming or what?”

“Sure thing. Thanks, Kitty,” he yelled over his shoulder and they went out.

“See you, Kitty,” Rogue said as she and Logan left.

“Very…….interesting,” Xavier mumbled as he wheeled out.

“Oh, I got an appointment now,” Jean said, looking at her clock and went out.
There was silence in the room.

“Thanks, Kitty,” Scott said softly and went to the door, deep in thought.

Cease the moment………….

“Scott, wait!” Kitty yelled. He stopped and turned towards her.

“Yes?” was that hope in his voice or was she imagining things?
Cease the moment……..

“I need to tell you something,” she said and ran across the room and towards
him.

Cease the moment…….

She closed her eyes as she neared him and threw herself into his arms.

Cease the moment……..

  Scott lifted her up and spun her around, reminding her of the dance lessons he
had given her before her prom.

Cease the moment……

She opened her eyes and looked into his shaded ones. He smiled a warm smile at
her and she smiled back as she put her lips over his. He responded and deepened
the kiss before they finally drew back.

“Care to say that again?” he grinned at her.

“With pleasure,” she laughed and their lips met again. She felt like she was
flying until she remembered that he was still carrying her, her feet a few
inches from the floor, so she really was flying.

Cease the moment…..



The End

--- In xmenmoviefanfic@yahoogroups.com, "indigocat28645
<Indigocat@H...>" <Indigocat@H...> wrote:
> Looking for fic about a groups of OCs that is set during the
movie.
> One of the stories has the OCs tracking Rogue until they can get a
> fix on her location and call in the X-Men.  In another, the group
has
> to protect the school and the Professor while the X-Men are
rescuing
> Rogue.  I think one of them might be Caliban.
>
> Sound familar?
>
> Indy

Got it! The Finders Inc. Set by Somer Rhane. Archived at
www.xmmff.com/movieverse.htm

Searching - How did they knew where to find Rogue, Logan, &
Sabretooth?

Homecoming - What the "kids" did to help the X-Men rescue Rogue.

Looking For Roberto Da Costa - Finders Inc. hit Brazil to recruit the
future Sunspot.

What's In A Name? - What should they call themselves? It gets
ridiculous...

Pick A Card, Any Card - The kids play for high stakes: doing each
others' chores!

Family Ties - The Brotherhood have kidnapped a young girl -- named
Darkholme!

Remembrance - Mystique thinks back on her bond to her sister Robin.

Kel

Just a gentle reminder that due to our size, the original FAQ for
this list permits only the posting of fanfic itself and fic-related
announcements, not fic discussion, or general discussion.  I'm
inclined to see an occasional query for assistance in finding a story
to be "fic-related" -- but please reply to the person via email
off-list.

Grazie!

--Minisinoo
co-mod, xmmff

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Hi all,

You need not read the other parts of this AU series but if you wish to do so you
can find it here:
http://www.dreamwater.org/scottsummers/fanfiction/DarkerDestiny.html
Enjoy:

Darker Destiny: No Worth; No Life
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 desires…

Archiving: Want, ASK, take,  have.

Feedback: Yes, please. My e-mail address is nadjalee2000@...

Rating: R

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 Beta



Have you ever wondered what it is like to have everything and it’s still not
enough ……..



I’m bored. Bored of games, bored of life in general. I’ve been everywhere, seen
everything. There is nothing new to do or try.

I’ve been the good boy, I’ve been the bad boy. I’ve built hospitals; I’ve made
weapon deals with tyrants. I’ve built shelters to the homeless; I’ve tried
drugs; doing and selling. I’ve given millions to charity; I’ve paid millions to
anticipate in a game on human life; kill or be killed. I’ve travelled the world;
I’ve done it all.

Everything bores me. I’ve been everywhere yet why aren’t I satisfied? What do I
want? I own half the bloody world for crying out loud. And maybe that’s the
problem. The reality of it all. Everything seems unreal. I can buy everything;
immunity for the law, life, death and love. Yet, it’s never real. None of it
seems real to me. It’s like a giant videogame where I rule supreme. No one has
any feelings or any thoughts of their own.

I’ve never had any real friends or any real lovers. I can never tell who loves
me for me or who loves me for my money. As time has passed I’ve come to
understand that everything is about money; no one does anything for free. I can
trust no one and no one here likes me for me; they like my money. I’m surrounded
by people all day and night should I wish it so yet I’m always alone. No one
understands me and no one wants to.

I’ve so often heard that I have everything and that people wish they were me.
Well, be my guest. It’s Hell in my mind even if I live in a golden cage. It’s
like I’m trapped in the world’s greatest prison and I can’t break free.

Yet sometimes late at night I dream. I dream of a mother’s sweet embrace, of a
father who actually remembers my name, I dream of a woman who’ll truly love me
and who’ll stay with me forever….and I dream I’m alone with her, flying high
above the ground……..just like an Angel. Just like an Angel.

   But that’s just that; dreams. My parents were always too busy to see me, I was
raised by nannies. Touch and showing emotions was forbidden and now I don’t know
if I would even be able to feel anything should I meet this dream woman of mine.
Can I even feel at all? I don’t know for so far the only feelings I’ve had have
been negative; nothing has touched me or made me feel. Maybe that was why I did
so many extreme things from bad business deals to trying daring stunts that
could have cost me my life…..maybe I was hoping I could feel. Something,
anything. But I didn’t.

At night, in dreams, I have hope. I’m so sure she is out there somewhere,
waiting for me. But as I reach for her she’s always gone. At day I know better;
there is no such woman and even if there was I’ll never find her. No one could
ever know my darkness and the conflict in my soul and understand. No one.



~Warren

Darker Destiny: Red As Blood…and Roses
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 tells of her life and desires…

Archiving: Want, ASK, take,  have.

Feedback: Yes, please. My e-mail address is nadjalee2000@...

Rating: R

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 to long for something yet you can’t even
explain what it is……..



Don’t feel. Don’t think, just act; just do. How many times haven’t I thought
that? How often haven’t I heard that? Don’t think; don’t feel……….just don’t….

Some people are born in the sun; others have to fight to get out of the
darkness. I’m not complaining, I learned from an early age that complaints only
lead to sorrow. Don’t think……don’t wonder……don’t long.

I’ve worked so hard to do that and I’ve almost succeeded. When most people talk
about having a talent it’s something like cooking or riding or swimming. Me; I’m
good at killing people. That’s what I do. People hire me for a job and I do it.
It sounds simple and it should be simple…..yet why isn’t it? Why do their faces,
their pleas and their blood hunt me so much?

I have no choice, I don’t. I have to live, I have to get by. No matter how often
I say that to myself it never works. I tell myself that I set the rules; I only
kill men. It was supposed to make it better but it doesn’t. It’s still
somebody’s father, brother, friend……….

I guess it’s a line to cross like anything else. At first the very thought of
taking a life was repulsing to me and the first kill was the hardest; I threw up
for hours afterwards. But then it got easier. My tears stopped, my hands didn’t
shake…….my heart didn’t bleed. Every time the light left their eyes a piece of
me died with them. Each time I stand over another man, on his knees pleading for
his life I see my soul in his eyes and I know I’m killing it with him. Soon,
there’ll be nothing left to save. Soon, I won’t be able to care or to love even
if I wanted to.

I’m killing myself ever so softly; I know this. I’m killing my soul, my
coincidence and my humanity yet I can’t stop. I pray for someone to give me a
reason to stop but the truth is I like being the best at something, I like the
respect. This is all I know, this is all I know how to do. What would I be
without it? A nobody? Then rather a dead somebody than a living nobody.

Morals and principles are for the rich, born with a silver spoon in their
mouths…….yet why do I sometimes, not often but still at times, see it in the
faces of people that life should have broken? How come some people can stand by
their principles even in the face of death and others can’t? In the light of day
I tell myself I’m the strong one; I survived and I’ve become someone. But in the
stillness of the night I hear a whispering voice, fading more and more, saying
that I’m wrong. That I’m the weak one for going back on my principles. At
daytime I have to believe what I do is necessary and even right but at
night……..at night I know better.

I long, somewhere deep inside me, a part of myself still live, a light still
shines and struggles for breath. My own darkness is strangling it but it’s still
there. In that light, hidden deep in my soul, I long for someone to hold me,
someone to tell me to stop, someone to love me and ask for my love in return.
Someone………someone but who? An angel. Only an angel could ever redeem me, could
ever look past the façade and find the woman I once was.

Who am I kidding? An Angel? Who should that be? I was born to darkness, this is
my destiny. Nothing can change that.

Yet the light still fights. It’s fainter now, it’s slowly dying yet it still
struggles. It hopes to hold out for a hero; for an Angel.

The light is dimming now, the darkness grows stronger and the night colder. I no
longer look myself in the eyes when I pass the mirror.

The light shines so faintly. Angel…………..help me

The light fades.



~Betsy