Title: Ember
Author: Jordanna Morgan (librarie@...)
Archive Rights: Please request the author's consent.
Rating/Warnings: PG for somewhat mature subject matter.
Characters: Kurt, Xavier, Logan.
Setting: General.
Summary: Kurt Wagner receives a surprising confirmation of his beliefs.
Disclaimer: Marvel and Fox create the characters that sell. Not me.
Notes: I'm going to say this up front: this story takes a pro-life perspective.
If you have a problem with that, stop reading now.

= = = = = = = = = =

Being a teacher did not come easily to me.

Until I came to the school, the borders of my world were always small... and
strange. My life had been the circus. How could I, who knew so little, teach
anything to others? Yet Professor Xavier told me that my aid was much needed, as
more students came. He said that I would learn as I taught, and that he and the
other teachers would help me.

Sometimes, at first, I felt I was more a burden than a help. The others spent so
much time preparing lessons for me, it might have been easier to teach the
classes themselves--but slowly, I did learn. Soon I began to have ideas of my
own about what I wanted to teach, and how.

One day, at breakfast, I was speaking of such things to the Professor.

He was always a man who listened very closely, but this morning, his attention
wandered many times. His eyes would become distant and he would turn his head,
as if drawn to another conversation in the dining room. This was not like him.
He did not need his ears to tell him if something was unwell; he would have
known in his mind if his concern was needed anywhere else in the school.

When I asked a question and he did not answer, I spoke of this at last.
"Professor? Is something wrong?"

He raised a hand to quiet me. "I'm not sure..."

His gaze passed slowly over the entire room, falling at last upon a
blonde-haired girl of seventeen whose name was Lydia. She had come to the school
not long after myself. I had never seen her smile, and I came to understand that
she resented being a mutant. She rebelled against the teachers, drove away the
students who tried to befriend her, and often went away by herself for a day or
more. Whatever was her power, I did not know, for she never used it.

Puzzled by the Professor's scrutiny, I looked at Lydia. She was eating her
breakfast alone, as she did each day. Her loneliness saddened me as always, but
I saw nothing out of the ordinary.

"This is going to be trouble," the Professor murmured.

With that he shook his head, and turned back to the lesson plan I had written.
He did not explain his words, and I did not ask.

= = = = = = = = = =

My mind was soon filled with my own plans for the day, and the matter slipped
out of my mind--until that evening, after supper. While I was looking for Ororo,
to invite her to play a game of chess with me, I passed by the Professor's
office. As I drew close, I could hear a girl's angry voice raised within, and I
recognized it as Lydia's. I did not wish to pry, so I hurried past the door,
without listening.

The next morning, the crisis came very suddenly.

Lydia left the school. It happened quickly and noisily, with much stomping on
the stairs and slamming of doors. She carried her bags to a waiting taxi, got
in, and drove away.

Everyone saw the spectacle, but no one seemed curious as I was. The way Lydia
always behaved, perhaps it was not to be wondered at that she should leave. Yet
I remembered the things I had seen and heard the day before, and I was troubled.

In the afternoon, I found Logan sitting on the low garden wall by the basketball
court, smoking a cigar and watching the children play. He was "coaching". This
was as close as he came to teaching, besides fighting lessons for a few older
students who were training to be X-Men, but no one minded this so much. He did a
great deal of work in other ways, and we all knew he would protect us in times
of danger.

Logan was my friend, and he spared me a faint smile as I sprang up onto the
wall. I sat beside him, and for a long time, we both watched the game.

It was boys against girls, and the girls were winning.

"Some day, huh?" Logan murmured at last.

He was not skilled at beginning a conversation--but he knew when someone was
troubled and wished to talk. I smiled slightly and shook my head. "I don't think
it was the best of days."

"Yeah." Logan shrugged. "Just a matter of time, though."

He said this as if he knew more about what happened than I did. I frowned. "Why
did Lydia leave?"

Logan let out a smoky snort, as if he was amused that I had not seen something
obvious. "She left because she's pregnant, Blue."

Astonished, I stared at him. "How do you know this?"

He shrugged. "I could smell it." Seeing my look of puzzled surprise, he made a
slight face and explained, "When a woman gets pregnant, her body chemistry
changes. I can tell."

"Ah," I replied dumbly, but my thoughts were racing on to what it all meant. Was
it possible that one of the boys at the school was the father? I watched Bobby
and Peter and the other boys chasing the ball across the basketball court, and
dismissed this idea at once. Our students were much too well behaved for such a
thing--and besides, Lydia had disdained them all, earning their dislike in
return. Perhaps in all the times she had vanished into the city, it was to be
with some unknown lover.

It was obvious that the Professor had also sensed Lydia's condition. He would
surely have been angry, but I knew he would not have driven her away because of
her foolish mistake, with all its consequences. Why then had she fled the one
place where she knew she would be taken care of? Where would she go now, and
what would become of her child?

After a long silence, I slid down from my perch on the wall. "Excuse me."

Logan waved a hand, and there I left him, as I teleported back to the mansion.

= = = = = = = = = =

A short series of teleportations brought me to the hallway outside the
Professor's study, and I knocked on the door. His voice promptly commanded me to
come, and I stepped in. He was at his desk, and a book lay open before him, but
somehow I felt that he had been thinking instead of reading.

"Good afternoon, Kurt," he said, not smiling, but kindly. "Please, sit down.
What can I do for you?"

Perhaps he knew what was on my mind, and was waiting for me to speak out of
politeness; perhaps he had not read my thoughts and feelings at all, and wished
to hear me in my own chosen words. I had not known him long enough to be certain
how these matters worked. In any case, I answered the question.

"I wanted to ask you--about Lydia," I began, hesitating slightly. "I have been
worried for her. Logan told me that she is going to have a child."

The Professor smiled sadly. "I'm afraid it's quite true. Lydia has become
pregnant, by a young man she's been visiting illicitly. One who is not a
mutant."

With this final confirmation, my concerns rushed out. "Why has she left? Has she
any family? Who will take care of her and the child?"

"She has a mother. Her father left some years ago. I'm afraid her home was never
a happy one, so whether she will return there, I'm not certain." The Professor
sighed deeply. "As for the reason she left, it's because I told her that as long
as she lived under this roof... I would not permit her to have an abortion."

A shock of horror passed through me. "She doesn't want to have the child?"

"It's hardly a surprise." The Professor shook his head regretfully. "Of course,
now that she's gone, I have no right to stop her. I'm truly sorry that she has
refused our help... but I cannot condone the killing of an unborn child."

I was startled and amazed by the Professor's words. I had never given thought to
his feelings on the matter of abortion, but if I had, I would not have expected
this. My faith was strongly against the taking of unborn life--but he had no
religion that I knew of. I wondered how the moral and scientific beliefs that
governed him had aligned to form this view.

Perhaps he sensed my curiosity, or perhaps he merely read it in my face. In
either case, he smiled faintly and spoke to the unasked question. "You didn't
expect me to be pro-life."

I felt a blush upon my cheeks as I shook my head.

"Do you remember our conversation at breakfast yesterday?" he asked. I nodded,
and he went on, "You wondered what was troubling me then. Why I was distracted.
I can tell you now that it was because I had first begun to sense Lydia's
child."

As the magnitude of these words slowly dawned upon me, the Professor nodded.
"Yes. Many telepaths can sense an unborn child as early as one week after
conception. We understand, better than anyone, that the fetus is a unique and
separate life."

His words were stunning. They were a powerful confirmation of my own beliefs. I
sat in silent amazement for several moments, pondering this telepathy that could
recognize the unborn as an individual. If society could be made to understand
that, how many lives yet unlived could be saved?
I looked up at the Professor.

"One thing I do not understand," I said. "If you know this, why don't you fight
to save these lives? Why don't you speak out against abortion?"

Again, he smiled sadly. "I've often wanted to. However, my first concern must be
for the children already born who are under my care. You know very well the
dangers that exist for us and for our students. I can't take the risk of
attracting public attention to this school."

Realizing the truth of this, I nodded solemnly. "I understand."

"But there are others, Kurt," the Professor added firmly. "I know several
telepaths who have worked very hard to lobby against abortion--and at
considerable risk, having identified themselves publicly as mutants.
Unfortunately, much of society has been so far unwilling to listen, and the
common view of mutants is an added hindrance to their case. But in time..." He
paused, and smiled thoughtfully. "I believe the truth will be known. For all of
us."

As I saw the light of hope in his eyes, I felt it too, and smiled in return.

"So do I."

= = = = = = = = = =

(c) 2004 Jordanna Morgan - send feedback

I have but one word for you - beautiful

Good job - write more

Sunshine


-----Original Message-----
From: xmenmoviefanfic@yahoogroups.com
[mailto:xmenmoviefanfic@yahoogroups.com]
Sent: Thursday, October 14, 2004 7:18 PM
To: xmenmoviefanfic@yahoogroups.com
Subject: [xmmff] Digest Number 1216



There is 1 message in this issue.

Topics in this digest:

       1. FIC: Ember (1/1, PG; Kurt, Xavier)
            From: jordi@...


________________________________________________________________________
________________________________________________________________________

Message: 1
    Date: Wed, 13 Oct 2004 22:40:58 -0400 (GMT-04:00)
    From: jordi@...
Subject: FIC: Ember (1/1, PG; Kurt, Xavier)

Title: Ember
Author: Jordanna Morgan (librarie@...)
Archive Rights: Please request the author's consent.
Rating/Warnings: PG for somewhat mature subject matter.
Characters: Kurt, Xavier, Logan.
Setting: General.
Summary: Kurt Wagner receives a surprising confirmation of his beliefs.
Disclaimer: Marvel and Fox create the characters that sell. Not me.
Notes: I'm going to say this up front: this story takes a pro-life
perspective. If you have a problem with that, stop reading now.

= = = = = = = = = =

Being a teacher did not come easily to me.

Until I came to the school, the borders of my world were always small... and
strange. My life had been the circus. How could I, who knew so little, teach
anything to others? Yet Professor Xavier told me that my aid was much
needed, as more students came. He said that I would learn as I taught, and
that he and the other teachers would help me.

Sometimes, at first, I felt I was more a burden than a help. The others
spent so much time preparing lessons for me, it might have been easier to
teach the classes themselves--but slowly, I did learn. Soon I began to have
ideas of my own about what I wanted to teach, and how.

One day, at breakfast, I was speaking of such things to the Professor.

He was always a man who listened very closely, but this morning, his
attention wandered many times. His eyes would become distant and he would
turn his head, as if drawn to another conversation in the dining room. This
was not like him. He did not need his ears to tell him if something was
unwell; he would have known in his mind if his concern was needed anywhere
else in the school.

When I asked a question and he did not answer, I spoke of this at last.
"Professor? Is something wrong?"

He raised a hand to quiet me. "I'm not sure..."

His gaze passed slowly over the entire room, falling at last upon a
blonde-haired girl of seventeen whose name was Lydia. She had come to the
school not long after myself. I had never seen her smile, and I came to
understand that she resented being a mutant. She rebelled against the
teachers, drove away the students who tried to befriend her, and often went
away by herself for a day or more. Whatever was her power, I did not know,
for she never used it.

Puzzled by the Professor's scrutiny, I looked at Lydia. She was eating her
breakfast alone, as she did each day. Her loneliness saddened me as always,
but I saw nothing out of the ordinary.

"This is going to be trouble," the Professor murmured.

With that he shook his head, and turned back to the lesson plan I had
written. He did not explain his words, and I did not ask.

= = = = = = = = = =

My mind was soon filled with my own plans for the day, and the matter
slipped out of my mind--until that evening, after supper. While I was
looking for Ororo, to invite her to play a game of chess with me, I passed
by the Professor's office. As I drew close, I could hear a girl's angry
voice raised within, and I recognized it as Lydia's. I did not wish to pry,
so I hurried past the door, without listening.

The next morning, the crisis came very suddenly.

Lydia left the school. It happened quickly and noisily, with much stomping
on the stairs and slamming of doors. She carried her bags to a waiting taxi,
got in, and drove away.

Everyone saw the spectacle, but no one seemed curious as I was. The way
Lydia always behaved, perhaps it was not to be wondered at that she should
leave. Yet I remembered the things I had seen and heard the day before, and
I was troubled.

In the afternoon, I found Logan sitting on the low garden wall by the
basketball court, smoking a cigar and watching the children play. He was
"coaching". This was as close as he came to teaching, besides fighting
lessons for a few older students who were training to be X-Men, but no one
minded this so much. He did a great deal of work in other ways, and we all
knew he would protect us in times of danger.

Logan was my friend, and he spared me a faint smile as I sprang up onto the
wall. I sat beside him, and for a long time, we both watched the game.

It was boys against girls, and the girls were winning.

"Some day, huh?" Logan murmured at last.

He was not skilled at beginning a conversation--but he knew when someone was
troubled and wished to talk. I smiled slightly and shook my head. "I don't
think it was the best of days."

"Yeah." Logan shrugged. "Just a matter of time, though."

He said this as if he knew more about what happened than I did. I frowned.
"Why did Lydia leave?"

Logan let out a smoky snort, as if he was amused that I had not seen
something obvious. "She left because she's pregnant, Blue."

Astonished, I stared at him. "How do you know this?"

He shrugged. "I could smell it." Seeing my look of puzzled surprise, he made
a slight face and explained, "When a woman gets pregnant, her body chemistry
changes. I can tell."

"Ah," I replied dumbly, but my thoughts were racing on to what it all meant.
Was it possible that one of the boys at the school was the father? I watched
Bobby and Peter and the other boys chasing the ball across the basketball
court, and dismissed this idea at once. Our students were much too well
behaved for such a thing--and besides, Lydia had disdained them all, earning
their dislike in return. Perhaps in all the times she had vanished into the
city, it was to be with some unknown lover.

It was obvious that the Professor had also sensed Lydia's condition. He
would surely have been angry, but I knew he would not have driven her away
because of her foolish mistake, with all its consequences. Why then had she
fled the one place where she knew she would be taken care of? Where would
she go now, and what would become of her child?

After a long silence, I slid down from my perch on the wall. "Excuse me."

Logan waved a hand, and there I left him, as I teleported back to the
mansion.

= = = = = = = = = =

A short series of teleportations brought me to the hallway outside the
Professor's study, and I knocked on the door. His voice promptly commanded
me to come, and I stepped in. He was at his desk, and a book lay open before
him, but somehow I felt that he had been thinking instead of reading.

"Good afternoon, Kurt," he said, not smiling, but kindly. "Please, sit down.
What can I do for you?"

Perhaps he knew what was on my mind, and was waiting for me to speak out of
politeness; perhaps he had not read my thoughts and feelings at all, and
wished to hear me in my own chosen words. I had not known him long enough to
be certain how these matters worked. In any case, I answered the question.

"I wanted to ask you--about Lydia," I began, hesitating slightly. "I have
been worried for her. Logan told me that she is going to have a child."

The Professor smiled sadly. "I'm afraid it's quite true. Lydia has become
pregnant, by a young man she's been visiting illicitly. One who is not a
mutant."

With this final confirmation, my concerns rushed out. "Why has she left? Has
she any family? Who will take care of her and the child?"

"She has a mother. Her father left some years ago. I'm afraid her home was
never a happy one, so whether she will return there, I'm not certain." The
Professor sighed deeply. "As for the reason she left, it's because I told
her that as long as she lived under this roof... I would not permit her to
have an abortion."

A shock of horror passed through me. "She doesn't want to have the child?"

"It's hardly a surprise." The Professor shook his head regretfully. "Of
course, now that she's gone, I have no right to stop her. I'm truly sorry
that she has refused our help... but I cannot condone the killing of an
unborn child."

I was startled and amazed by the Professor's words. I had never given
thought to his feelings on the matter of abortion, but if I had, I would not
have expected this. My faith was strongly against the taking of unborn
life--but he had no religion that I knew of. I wondered how the moral and
scientific beliefs that governed him had aligned to form this view.

Perhaps he sensed my curiosity, or perhaps he merely read it in my face. In
either case, he smiled faintly and spoke to the unasked question. "You
didn't expect me to be pro-life."

I felt a blush upon my cheeks as I shook my head.

"Do you remember our conversation at breakfast yesterday?" he asked. I
nodded, and he went on, "You wondered what was troubling me then. Why I was
distracted. I can tell you now that it was because I had first begun to
sense Lydia's child."

As the magnitude of these words slowly dawned upon me, the Professor nodded.
"Yes. Many telepaths can sense an unborn child as early as one week after
conception. We understand, better than anyone, that the fetus is a unique
and separate life."

His words were stunning. They were a powerful confirmation of my own
beliefs. I sat in silent amazement for several moments, pondering this
telepathy that could recognize the unborn as an individual. If society could
be made to understand that, how many lives yet unlived could be saved?
I looked up at the Professor.

"One thing I do not understand," I said. "If you know this, why don't you
fight to save these lives? Why don't you speak out against abortion?"

Again, he smiled sadly. "I've often wanted to. However, my first concern
must be for the children already born who are under my care. You know very
well the dangers that exist for us and for our students. I can't take the
risk of attracting public attention to this school."

Realizing the truth of this, I nodded solemnly. "I understand."

"But there are others, Kurt," the Professor added firmly. "I know several
telepaths who have worked very hard to lobby against abortion--and at
considerable risk, having identified themselves publicly as mutants.
Unfortunately, much of society has been so far unwilling to listen, and the
common view of mutants is an added hindrance to their case. But in time..."
He paused, and smiled thoughtfully. "I believe the truth will be known. For
all of us."

As I saw the light of hope in his eyes, I felt it too, and smiled in return.

"So do I."

= = = = = = = = = =

(c) 2004 Jordanna Morgan - send feedback



________________________________________________________________________
________________________________________________________________________


"A man lives not only his personal life, as an individual, but also,
consciously or unconsciously, the life of his epoch and his contemporaries."
------------------------------------------------------------------------
Yahoo! Groups Links




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

First up, I hope that no one minds my posting this here. If I have
stepped on any list rules please let me know.

Hi everyone.

Well, first up, the archive is not dead. I am in the process of
doing a MAJOR change to the site layout to hopefully make it easier
for people to find the fics they are looking for.

A co-worker (not same one who gave us hosting space) has been helping
to design a datebase for the site. It will allow for users to find
stories by rating, genre, author, series and 'ships (if we can get
that section working *G*) I also hope to add a search feature so
that if you know a part of the story you will be able to find stories
that match your search criteria.

I will admit that inspiration for this change has come from the
wonderful layout that Devil Doll and Diebin of wr.com have managed
for the archive there. I find it so easy to navigate and I wanted to
enable those that come to Keepers to have just as easy a time to find
things on our archive.

Now here comes the part where I beg. I need HELP! I have to move
all the current stories over. And there is just too many for me to
get moved over quickly on my own. So, if there is anyone out there
who would be willing to help, please send me an email at
webmistress@f...

Tanya

Consonance (Special 15)
Minisinoo

Summary: A marriage of tones that brings stability to discord.
(unofficial summary: Scott joins Warren at Yale.)

Warning: This whole series is ADULT.

URL:
http://www.themedicinewheel.net/special/consonance.html

Series Page:
http://www.themedicinewheel.net/special/special.html


=====
--Min
The Medicine Wheel: X-Men Fanfic
http://www.themedicinewheel.net/



_______________________________
Do you Yahoo!?
Declare Yourself - Register online to vote today!
http://vote.yahoo.com

I am looking for a writting partner. I'm a 24 year old woman who
loves to write but finds it easier with a partner.  I have written
several pieces of non fanfic erotica alone and a few fanfic erotica
with friends.  If you're interested please email me at
morganna_shaw@...

Thank you for your time.

Morganna

Title: A Haunting in Westchester (part 1 of 3)
Author: Jordanna Morgan
Website: http://www.jordanna.net/librarie/xmen
Archive Rights: Please request the author's consent.
Rating/Warnings: G.
Characters: Ensemble.
Setting: General.
Summary: Chaos ensues when Xavier permits the students to take part in a haunted
house.
Disclaimer: Marvel and Fox own the characters you know; others are from my own
toybox. See notes at the end of Part 3.
Credit: To WabbitSeason, SpaniardX, Oryon, and Anonymous, for contributing
costume ideas.
Notes: A look at my favorite holiday, Mutant High style. If you know where the
name of the house comes from, consider yourself an expert in classic B-horror
films.



"Maybe you could go as, like, a vampire," said Jubilation Lee, idly twirling her
strawberry lollipop between her fingers. "'Cause it'd fit. You know, with the
whole life-sucking thing and all."

Without looking away from "The Bride of Frankenstein" on the television screen,
Marie "Rogue" D'Ancanto made a pouting face. "Not funny, Jubes."

Scott Summers rolled his eyes behind his ruby-quartz glasses.

At that moment, he was sitting on the couch in the darkened TV room with his
fiancée, Jean Grey. Sprawled across the floor in front of them were nearly a
dozen students of Xavier's School, most of them engrossed in the latest creature
feature on Turner Classic Movies. It was two weeks before Halloween, which meant
the house rules limiting the kids' intake of horror movies had gone out the
window for the remainder of the month. Ordinarily Scott would have disapproved,
but even he had to admit to a certain soft spot for the old Universal monster
flicks the kids had discovered this year.

Some of the students had decided on their Halloween costumes months ago. Others
had still not made up their minds, and among these was Rogue--hence Jubilee's
helpful suggestion.

"Well, maybe you could do a "Gone With the Wind", Southern belle kind of thing,"
offered Kitty Pryde.

"Like Ah haven't heard *that* one before!" Rogue drawled.

"Hey," Bobby Drake murmured, uncoiling from his chiropractically unsound tangle
on the floor. "You know what? I think I'd like to go as *him*." He pointed to
the menacing image of Boris Karloff stalking across the TV screen as
Frankenstein's Monster.

"You've got the brain for it," Jubilee sniffed.

Rogue stared at Bobby for a moment, then giggled and ruffled his hair with her
gloved fingers, as if he were a toddler who had done something adorably
precocious. "You're so cute."

"Wait a minute!" Kitty broke in. "Rogue, if he goes as Frankenstein, I know what
you can be!"

"Frankenstein's *Monster*," Scott corrected quietly. He couldn't help himself.

When a dozen pairs of eyes stared back at him, in a silence broken only by the
growling of said Monster, he squirmed and cleared his throat.

"Well, what's your idea?" Rogue asked, turning back to Kitty and incidentally
letting their math teacher off the hook.

With a devious grin Kitty pointed to the television, where the hissing,
tottering Bride of Frankenstein had just been unveiled. "You could go as
Frankenstein's Mate!"

Rogue's eyes widened. "Aw, no. No way."

"Hey, that would be kinda neat!" Bobby exclaimed, with a fawning grin at Rogue.

"After all," Kitty urged, "you've already got those white streaks in your hair.
All we'd have to do is frizz it out and make it stand up."

Jubilee snickered. "Maybe we could get Miss Munroe to kick up a lightning bolt
for that."

"Okay, that does it!" Rogue snapped, and shoving Bobby aside, she pounced on her
squealing friend.

Scott braced to separate the two, aware that Jean had raised a hand to reach out
telekinetically and do the same. However, their concerns proved unfounded; both
girls began laughing as they play-wrestled over Jubilee's bag of Dum-Dums. The
two adults exchanged a glance and a shake of the head, and Scott smiled at Jean,
receiving the same in return. They would have to remind Rogue, as they did every
now and then, to be careful with herself--but for now, there was no harm done.

Jean started to turn back to the kids, but then her head swiveled in the other
direction, taking note of a new presence she had sensed. Scott followed her
gaze, and as he recognized the silhouette in the doorway, he mentally let out a
sigh.

Logan strode into the room, his eyes taking in every inch of it from beneath
lowered brows. He had been gone for most of the day--and, as usual, no one knew
where or why. Now he was carrying a folded piece of neon-orange paper, and as he
approached the back of the couch, he held it out to Jean.

"I just got back. Found this on the gate."

Her lips quirked in curiosity, Jean took the paper and unfolded it, tilting it
and squinting to read it in the dim light of the television. Some of the kids
instinctively sensed a mystery, and as the movie credits were rolling anyway,
they crowded around the couch to investigate. They blinked in the sudden
brightness as Logan helpfully switched on a lamp in the corner.

"So what is it?" Peter Rasputin asked.

Jean frowned thoughtfully. "It's an invitation to a haunted house someone's
having on Halloween. I think this address is the Old Willows Place down the
road."

"Isn't that the house some retired actress moved into about six months ago?"
Scott asked.

"I think it is."

"Can I see?" Kitty begged, holding out a hand for the paper. Jean absently
handed it over, and Kitty began to read with eager intensity.

"*Heeeey...*"

From the tone of Kitty's voice, Scott instantly knew they were in trouble.

"What?" Rogue asked, sitting up on her knees and jostling Kitty in an effort to
read over her elbow.

Ignoring the shoving, Kitty replied, "It says here they're looking for
volunteers to help set up the haunted house--and to play the characters in it."
She looked up excitedly. "Maybe I could, like, play a ghost!"

Across the room, Logan scowled--and for once, Scott was in total agreement.

"Wait a minute, Kitty," Scott cut in. "You're not thinking about using your
power, are you?"

Kitty blanched slightly, but managed to retain an even, reasoning tone. "Well,
why not? If anyone asked, we could just tell them it was special effects or
something." She glanced around at the other teens, looking for moral support.
"Can't you just imagine me popping out of a wall and freaking people out?"

"Hey, maybe I could juggle knives..." Peter mused.

And that set off the rest of the kids.

Amidst a sudden, excited babble of young voices chattering about the haunted
house, Scott reached up to massage his temples. It was some comfort to him that
Logan was doing much the same thing--but Jean was smiling slightly, with a
calculating look in her eyes.

"Oh, no, Jean. Don't look like that." Logan's tone was as close to a whine as
Scott had ever heard from him.
Jean blinked, looking back and forth between the two men. "Well... maybe it
*would* work. It depends on the person running the haunted house, of course,
but..." She drifted again.

"Can't we at least find out more?" Kitty asked pleadingly, backed up by a chorus
of "Yeah!" and "Please?" from the rest of the kids.

Jean did not answer, but glanced up at Scott, with the sort of cheerfully
expectant look that a grown man would be well justified in fearing.

That was the *coup de grace*, and Scott let out a prodigiously long and heavy
sigh. "Alright. I'll talk to the Professor about it in the morning--*if* you all
agree that what he says about it is *final*."

With reluctantly murmured agreements, the kids stampeded out of the room and up
the stairs, all talking at once. Scott closed his eyes and slid his fingers
under his glasses to rub his eyelids. He looked up in time to see Logan step
forward, wearing an ominous expression.

"Please tell me you're joking."

Scott gave a shrug that was more like a wince. "It's up to the Professor now."

"Cop-out," Jean retorted, but she was still smiling.

"Why do you look so happy about this?" Logan demanded. "You *can't* be serious
about letting those kids use their powers in public."

"Actually, this might be a great opportunity to let them do just that. Like
Kitty said, if the conditions are right, we could pass it off as special
effects," Jean replied. When Logan's frown deepened, she pressed on, "Think
about it. We try to teach the kids to take pride in their abilities--yet they
always have to hide them from the rest of the world. This is one day out of the
year when they just might be able to have some fun with their powers."

"Yeah, it's *always* fun 'til somebody gets hurt," Logan grumbled, and with a
shake of his head, he stalked toward the door.

He was almost there when he paused, then took a step closer to the shelf beside
the doorway. He leaned over to scrutinize something amidst the stray odds and
ends scattered upon it. When he spoke, his voice was entirely lacking its
habitual growl; in fact, it had acquired a slight quiver of unease.

"Uh... Jean?"

"What?"

"There's an eyeball sitting on the shelf, and it ain't made of glass."

With a groan, Jean shot up off the couch. "Norbie's at it again..." She snatched
a tissue from the box on an end table, used it to pick up the disturbing object
in question, then disappeared into the hall.

Logan stared after her, then looked back at Scott, one eyebrow raised. "Do I
wanna know?"

"Probably not," Scott replied. When Logan continued to stare at him, he went on,
"Norbert Smith. Sleuth. His eyeballs function independently outside of his
skull, and he's always leaving one of them lying around. Usually aimed at the TV
when he's elsewhere, supposedly studying."

The Wolverine stood still, absorbing that information, for a full ten seconds
before he spoke--in language that suggested a bit too much time spent in the
vicinity of Jubilation Lee.

"Okay. That's officially the grossest mutation in the house."



Kurt Wagner felt a certain amount of tension in Professor Xavier's office the
following morning, when the adults were called together to discuss the haunted
house and the students' interest in it. The blue-skinned German crouched on his
haunches in a chair beside the window, listening in attentive silence as his
friends debated the issue.

"I don't like it," grumbled Logan, who was slouching near the door. "I thought
it was risky enough that you let the kids go begging for candy. Besides, isn't
it--*exploitation* or something, to let 'em put their tricks on display?"

"Not if they're volunteering," Ororo Munroe replied earnestly. Fun-loving at
heart, she had taken her friend Jean's side of the issue, and was in favor of
having a romp on the Eve of All Saints.

"Personally, I think Logan's right," Scott muttered.

Ororo grinned at him. "Hey, wait a minute. You mean you two actually *agree*
about something? This is a Kodak moment."

Logan growled. Scott grimaced. Jean stifled a chuckle behind her fist.

"Alright," Xavier interrupted from behind the desk, hands raised in a
conciliatory gesture. "I am aware of the risks. I also think that Jean is
right--it's difficult for the children to live their lives with the secret of
their gifts. As much as I disapprove of showing off, with the proper
precautions, the chance to share those gifts for once could do a great deal to
relieve some of that pressure."

Kurt was slightly startled to hear himself say, "I agree."

All eyes turned to him, and he fidgeted, his pointed tail swishing nervously.

"I was a performer," he reminded them softly. "The circus was a place outside of
the ordinary world, where people could see me as I am, and feel wonder instead
of fear. It was nice to have those times, when I didn't need to hide myself." He
cast a shy glance around the room. "Even if no one knows that the children are
mutants, I think it would be good for them to have that, just once."

A long moment of silence followed, as his friends considered his words. He
shifted uncomfortably on his chair, only relaxing somewhat when Ororo smiled at
him.

"So what would you do?" Scott finally asked Xavier. "Tell the woman setting all
this up that our students want to rig their own 'special effects' in her house?"

"No... not exactly," Xavier replied, thoughtfully rubbing his chin. He
considered for a moment, then looked up with a steady resolve in his eyes. "I
want to go to Old Willows Place, and meet the lady in question. If I can
determine that she would respond well to the truth, that is precisely what I'll
tell her. If not..." he let the statement trail off meaningfully.

"I *still* don't like it," Logan muttered. Then his glance passed over Jean,
Kurt, and Xavier, and he shrugged. "But I'll go along with it... until things
get out of hand."

"They won't," Xavier replied calmly. "Of that I can assure you."



Old Willows Place, named for the family that had built it in the mid-nineteenth
century, stood roughly a mile down Graymalkin Lane--making it one of the closest
neighbors to Xavier's School. An elegant, three-story Victorian mansion, with a
broad front porch and three gabled attic windows, it stood upon several acres of
wooded property. It looked ideal for the role of the stereotypical haunted
house. In fact, it outwardly did a respectable imitation of the Addams Family
residence.

Evening was approaching when Scott drove Professor Xavier through the open
wrought-iron gate and into the long driveway. As they pulled up in front of the
house, a woman stepped out onto the porch.

Helen Conover looked much younger than her sixty-two years. She was still
beautiful, perhaps all the more so because she seemed to make no special effort
to be; her gold-and-silver hair was uncolored, her makeup was light, and her
only jewelry was a wedding ring and a gold locket necklace. Her slender figure,
clothed in a modest blue dress, had the grace and carriage of more than thirty
years as a stage actress.

"Good evening," Xavier said, as the lift lowered his wheelchair from the van.
"I'm Charles Xavier; we spoke on the telephone this morning. And this is Scott
Summers."

"It's a pleasure to meet you," Helen said, with a warm smile and a trace of
Georgia in her accent. She shook both men's hands with a firm, confident grip.
"I want to tell you again how delighted I was by your call. I haven't had any
other volunteers for the haunted house yet, and I was hoping some of the
students at your school might be interested."

"Yes they are, very."

"Wonderful." Helen's smile faded a bit as she glanced at Charles' wheelchair,
then back toward her porch. "I just hope this won't be too much trouble for you.
It's an old house, not terribly accessible..."

"We'll manage," Charles assured her with a smile. "Thank you for inviting us."

Presently, with some maneuvering, the Professor and his chair were installed in
the front sitting room of the house. This was a pleasant, comfortable space,
with a bay window, a fireplace, and shelves filled with the trinkets and
mementos of a life lived to its fullest. On the walls hung photographs
affectionately signed by past costars, and framed playbills from the shows in
which Helen had performed.

"So you played Queen Gertrude in 'Hamlet'," Charles noted, admiring the
testament to Helen's work which surrounded them. "I believe I would have very
much enjoyed seeing that."

"Thank you. It was my last role before I retired," Helen replied, with a slight
blush. "Critics said it was some of my best work, but after my husband Arthur
passed away... my heart just wasn't in my performances any longer." She smiled
ruefully, then stepped over to the table, where a polished silver tea service
was laid out. "Would you like some tea?"

"Yes, please." Charles rolled his wheelchair up to the table, accepting the cup
Helen poured for him. At the Professor's side, Scott politely declined the tea,
but took the seat Helen motioned him to. If she was curious as to why he wore
sunglasses indoors, she had the grace not to ask.

Helen sat down herself, stirring sugar into her tea. "So, you teach at the
school down the road. Are you the principal, Professor?"

"Something like that," Charles replied, with a small smile.

In a friendly conversation such as this, he disliked intruding on a person's
thoughts. Even now, when his goal was to determine how Helen Conover felt about
mutants, he was loathe to pry into the mind of such an obviously good-willed
woman. He compromised by examining only the general perceptions and feelings he
sensed from her. What he found was precisely what he had expected: enthusiasm,
kindness, and more than a little curiosity.

He decided to take a direct approach.

"When our students heard of your plans for a haunted house, they were very
excited," he went on. "Many of them are interested in taking part in it.
However, in all fairness, I want you to understand that the talents they have to
offer are... rather beyond the ordinary."

The actress shrugged slightly. "Well, coming from a school for the gifted, I
would imagine..."

"Yes, they *are* gifted." Charles paused, then concluded softly, "The children
at our school are mutants."

Helen gasped and fumbled her teacup, splashing the hot amber liquid into her
saucer. She was radiating surprise, but beneath it Charles found a wave of much
more troubled emotions. Fear and alarm he could well have understood--but
instead, Helen felt a powerful sorrow and regret, the echoes of something past
and terribly painful.

Exchanging a glance with Scott, Charles readied himself to reach out with his
mind, and erase his revelation from Helen's memory.

"I'm--I'm sorry, Professor." Helen looked away, focusing on her nervous hands as
she mopped up the spilled tea. Charles did not need his telepathy to see that
her mind was racing. He remained silent, allowing her to collect her thoughts.

When at last she raised her head to face the two men, her eyes were brimming,
but she spoke in a quiet, steady voice.

"When my grandson was twelve... we learned he was a mutant. He could never have
hurt anyone, but my daughter and son-in-law were *afraid* of him--so they sent
him off to some kind of institution, to try to make him 'better'. All they did
in that place was pump him full of drugs, until there was nothing left of the
Kenny I knew."

She paused then, taking in a deep breath that shuddered with emotion.

"After three years, when he was almost gone already... he committed suicide. I
haven't seen or spoken to my daughter since his funeral."

Charles had heard such stories before, but he felt the same fierce hurt in his
soul each time. With a sigh he lowered his gaze, giving Helen some measure of
privacy as she regained her composure.

"I'm deeply sorry, Mrs. Conover. The losses you've suffered are truly undeserved
by a woman as caring and generous as you. My life has been devoted to preventing
such tragedies as that of your grandson, so I understand your pain... and I
apologize for having opened old wounds."

To Scott he said quietly, "I think we should leave."

"No. Please don't go." Helen managed a broken smile, shaking her head. "Don't
you see? If I'd only known there was a place like your school... and people like
you... then maybe Kenny would be alive today."

"I wish I could have helped him," Charles said gently, and meant it with every
fiber of his being.

Slowly, Helen straightened in her chair, the mist clearing from her eyes. Her
sad smile gradually warmed into something stronger, compassionate and resolute.

"Professor Xavier, I would be glad and honored to have the help of your
students."



In the days that followed, the X-Men found in Helen Conover a better neighbor
and friend than they could ever have expected.

The day after their first meeting, she reciprocated Charles' visit, and he gave
her a tour of the school. The children were taken with her at once--especially
when she told them that as an actress, she had created her own makeup effects,
and would be glad to help them with their Halloween costumes. As for the adults,
she quickly gained the friendship of Jean and Ororo, and delighted Kurt by her
unhesitating acceptance of him. Even Logan lost his distrustful scowl after a
short time in her presence.

When she was among the students, Helen's love of youth became evident. After the
school day was over, she sat with them in one of the classrooms, seeming like a
teenager herself as she talked eagerly about the haunted house and collected
their suggestions. Once they had warmed to her, a few of them demonstrated how
they could use their mutations for their roles, and she responded to their
sometimes-startling gifts with the same pleased admiration she might have felt
for a young musical prodigy.

As he watched her through the day, Charles' heart was warmed by the vision of
what could have been, and should have been. People like this kind and gracious
woman were the reason the X-Men fought to protect humanity.

By that evening, with the children's help and some technical advice from Scott,
Helen had drawn up a plan for the arrangement of the haunted house. The
elaborate layout would span the front rooms of the lower two stories of Old
Willows Place, with a different theme for each room. She left after dinner with
a copious bundle of notes, and a long list of supplies to purchase the following
day.

The work--and the chaos--began that weekend.

Great idea, I can't wait to see how this story
develops! Love Wolvie's part in this, and for some
reason his first line struck me as just so typical
Wolvie, "I just got back. Found this on the gate."
HeeHee, to the point, just like a man. ;)
Thanks for sharing,
Emily

=====
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Fanfiction by Black_Wingedbird:
www.angelfire.com/falcon/black_wingedbird
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------\
-------------------------------------------------
'When I think of heaven (Deliver me in a black-winged bird)
I think of flying down into a sea of pens and feathers...'
-Counting Crows, Rain King









__________________________________________________
Do You Yahoo!?
Tired of spam?  Yahoo! Mail has the best spam protection around
http://mail.yahoo.com

IN RESPONSE TO GOTH KITTY'S CHALLENGE
RATED: PG
DISCLAIMER:They ain't mine, I went be making any money on this.
Seven-Eleven Will Never Be the Same
by Linda J.


It wasn't very often when the brotherhood went out as a group, but
even Erik understood a little time away from the lair was a good
thing. So everyone piled into the van and headed into town. Along
the way they stopped for some gas and to stretch their legs. This
time, Pyro got the honors of staying outside and filling the tank,
while everyone went inside the store.
It was several minutes when the other members of the brotherhood
returned to the van. Pyro noticed how strangely quiet they were but
was afraid to ask why. Then out of the blue Toad spoke up.
"Sabretooth," he spoke calmly. "The `wet floor' sign you saw in the
middle of the walkway was to let you know they had just moped. It
was NOT an instruction for you to follow, dumb ass!"

*giggle* That's kinda like 'Well the sign said
drive-thru window, but I didn't, did I?'
Funny, thanks for sharing,
Emily


=====
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------\
-------------------------------------------------
Fanfiction by Black_Wingedbird:
www.angelfire.com/falcon/black_wingedbird
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------\
-------------------------------------------------
'When I think of heaven (Deliver me in a black-winged bird)
I think of flying down into a sea of pens and feathers...'
-Counting Crows, Rain King











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Do you Yahoo!?
Yahoo! Mail Address AutoComplete - You start. We finish.
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Title: Love Me? (Part 0 of 3 AM) - Just a Little Teaser
Author: KhaosX aka Chris
Pairings: Logan/Rogue
Universe: Movie (Naturally!)
Disclaimer: If I owned them, Rogue would be naked alot more.. In my
bed.. Without the whole soul-sucking thing. Stan Lee, Bryan Singer
and nameless others own them. I just do twisted things with them. And
even though this ain't a songfic, the song 3 AM belongs to Matchbox
20.
Rating: PG-13 - Language.
POV: Rogue
Spoilers: X-Men Movies

Love Me?
Part 0 of 3 AM
By Chris


He's stuck in my head. Along with the numerous other personalities I
have up there, the man I love more then anything is stuck in my head.

Twice.

He touched me twice.

The first time, I had to touch him to heal myself, after he impaled
me with his claws, when I tried waking him up from a nightmare.

The second time, he touched me without a care in the world after
saving my life when Erik.. No, Magneto. Tried sucking the life out of
me with that blasted machine.

Ah am stuck with his memories, his feelings. His fucking lust for
Jean Grey. Perfect Jean Grey, with her perfect fucking life.

I light a cigar, something left over from the remnants of Logan's
memories. I smoke cigars now. I even crave the occasional beer.

It's 3 AM now. I'm very lonely. I close my eyes, and will the
memories to the back of my mind, but they don't leave. I wish Logan
could love me, like I love him. But as always, Logan lusts after the
one woman who will never love him back. *Could* never love him back.
Jean Grey. She's with Scott. They'll be married soon, maybe.

I haven't been able to sleep in weeks. Maybe even months. I keep
expecting Logan to return. To tell me he loves me. But he never does.
I still have his dogtags. A token of the promise he made almost 2
years ago that he'd protect me. 'I'll be back for these' he said. But
he hasn't returned. I want to go look for him, but I know that
without the Professor's help by Cerebro, I'll never find the man who
holds my heart.

That's right Logan. You stole my heart. I love you, but will you ever
love me?

End Part One

Hi everybody,

I wanted to let you know that JJ Blazer's interview has been
completed and is now up at the Wolverine and Rogue Fanfiction Archive
(http://www.wolverineandrogue.com/fic/authiv/index.php) for your
reading pleasure. Elizabeth Wilde's will be following shortly.  So,
swing by, take a look and enjoy!

Diane

Title: A Killer in Me (3 AM #1)
Author: KhaosX aka Chris
Author's Email: KhaosXTeam@...
Pairings: Logan/Rogue
Universe: Movie (Naturally!)
Disclaimer: If I owned them, Rogue would be naked alot more.. In my
bed.. Without the whole soul-sucking thing. Stan Lee, Bryan Singer
and nameless others own them. I just do twisted things with them. And
even though this ain't a songfic, the song 3 AM belongs to Matchbox
20.
Rating: PG-13 - Language.
Summary: Logan's thoughts on his 'relationship' with Rogue. POV.
Movieverse. Angst.
POV: Logan
Spoilers: X-Men Movies
Archiving: Anyone, but please let me know so I can visit!
Feedback: Craved almost as much as naked Rogue and Wolvie. Yes, I'm
bi. Best of both worlds. Send to above email address. Flames can get
sent to the basement, we need to roast marshmallows.

A Killer In Me
Part One of 3 AM
By Chris

How can I tell her?

How can I tell Rogue that I love her?

That what I feel for Jean is just fucking lust?

It's been two years. Two fucking years since I've seen Rogue. Two
years since I've seen Jean. Jean. The object of my fantasies. Well,
she used to be. Then she told me that she loved Scott and chose him.

I do love Rogue, but how can I tell her?

I've loved her since I got stuck in my head. But she can't tell.

Because above it all, are my feelings for Jean Grey.

I just wish I knew how to tell her what I feel.

But the killer in me just won't let me. That's right, the Wolverine
is in love with a woman. One that can kill with a touch.

Ironic, huh?

I'm a killer. An assassin created by the Weapon X program. A killer
designed to feel *nothing*, but I feel love for Marie.

If I didn't love her, I would have just let her die after
accidentally impaling her on my claws.

Why?

Because that is who I am.

A cold hearted killer. A fucking killer. I kill for a living, never
to survive. I make cash by murdering sometimes helpless victims.
Usually people who deserve to die.

Title: A Haunting in Westchester (part 2 of 3)
Author: Jordanna Morgan
Disclaimers, etc. located in Part 1



"Tell me again why I'm doing this."

It was a Saturday afternoon. A very nice Saturday afternoon at that, cool and
breezy, with a bright sun that was not too warm. A perfectly lovely autumn
day...

Except, perhaps, for the cranky Wolverine sitting on the roof of Old Willows
Place.

With a screwdriver in hand and a disgruntled expression on his face, Logan was
helping Scott and Kurt to install colored spotlights. These would be used to
highlight the attic windows and several points of interest on the front lawn,
which Jean, Ororo, and several of the kids were currently turning into a mock
graveyard. Other students were inside with Helen, working on the interior of the
house, or taking a break to enjoy the seemingly endless supply of lemonade and
sugar cookies on the porch.

Ingenuous as always, Kurt smiled as he answered Logan's plaintive question.
"We're doing this because the Professor decided it was not safe for the
children."

Logan thought about that for a long moment, the shook his head sagely. "No,
that's not it."

Rolling his eyes behind his red glasses, Scott heaved an impatient sigh and
ground out, "You're doing this because Jean told you to, hoser."

Logan frowned. "Oh. Yeah." Then before Scott could get a word in, he changed the
subject, surveying with exaggerated interest the tools and equipment scattered
around them. "We're missing the nail gun. Kurt, see if it's down on the porch."

"*Ja*," Kurt replied pleasantly, and vanished in a puff of indigo vapor before
the word had even died away.

For a moment as he stared at the spot where Kurt had been, Logan allowed a faint
smile to cross his face. He would never have said it in so many words, but he
liked Nightcrawler tremendously. The German was kindhearted and cheerful in
spite of the difficulties in his past. His serene presence had a calming effect
on Logan, and he was unerringly patient with the older man's often bossy
demeanor toward him. The roles of superior and subordinate were a peculiar
hallmark of their friendship, an arrangement with which they were both content.

Besides, the blue elf was the one creature in all of Westchester who was even
stranger than Logan.

Shrugging to himself, Logan glanced over at Scott. "I thought this was the kids'
project."

"It is," Scott replied earnestly. "They just need a little help."

"Yeah, that's what they always say. Only a pushover like you would believe 'em.
Hand me the pliers."

Wordlessly, Scott picked up the pliers and held them out to Logan--but as the
Canadian was reaching over to take them, disaster struck.

Kurt suddenly rematerialized--and Logan, having moved slightly in the interim,
was just a bit too close for comfort. Startled by the *bamf* and the puff of
displaced air, he recoiled, lost his balance... and tumbled over the edge of the
roof.

Since he'd taken up residence at Xavier's School, Logan had become used to a lot
of things: black leather uniforms, random explosions at all hours, patches of
ice on the floors--even the sight of Jean and Scott kissing. However, in spite
of entirely too much unintentional practice at it, free falling was not on the
list of things he had learned to shrug off. He popped his claws on instinct,
flailing frantically in an effort to catch himself on the side of the house,
regardless of any damage he might cause. When that failed, all he could do was
brace for an impact with the ground; not likely to do him any permanent damage,
but no picnic, either.

The denouement to his three-story plunge never came. Some eight feet from the
ground, he felt a hard jerk on his entire body, and found himself neatly
suspended in midair--upside-down.

As his senses caught up with him, he heard giggling from the porch, and
sincerely wished he was dead.

Jean stepped gracefully into his inverted view, right hand extended, lips
twisting in suppressed humor. She stopped almost directly beneath him, regarding
him with the same sort of clinical interest she might have for an unusual insect
caught in a net.

"You know, you're really heavy," she remarked, somewhat anticlimactically.

Trapped in Jean's telekinetic grip, Logan grunted and retracted his claws. "It's
the adamantium, okay? Now put me down. I've had enough of this. I'm going back
to the school."

Jean's amused smile turned into a frown. "You can't quit now."

"Just watch me." Logan made vague swimming motions in the air, a futile attempt
to right himself.

"Oh no you don't." Jean twitched her fingers, and Logan felt an invisible
*something* crawl up his ribs... or down them, according to his current
perspective. "Remember, I'm your doctor, and I know *exactly* where you're
ticklish."

Logan choked off his involuntary laugh, resulting in a very ignominious whimper.
"No, stop it. C'mon, Jean, you're gonna make Cyke jealous."

*That* got a reaction, albeit not the one Logan had been looking for. Jean's
expression went flat, she twisted her wrist sharply, and his stomach lurched as
he suddenly snapped right-side-up--still eight feet above the ground.

At least now he was in a better position to appreciate the full measure of his
humiliation. Ororo and a dozen kids including Rogue and Bobby were standing
around, watching Jean make an idiot of him, and Scott and Kurt were looking down
from the roof above. Logan ground his teeth together and mentally ran through
the gamut of swear words.

"Oh, shut up. You're going to stay here and finish," Jean reiterated.

Logan stifled a groan, embarrassed by the note of desperation in his voice.
"Look, we can argue about it all you want--just put me down. 'Cause if you
don't, I think I'm gonna throw up."

"For all that regenerative power, you've really got a weak stomach." Jean looked
around at their audience, smiling wickedly. "Think I should put him down?"

Several heads nodded, and it was even money whether they wanted to avoid seeing
the Wolverine have a berzerker fit or lose his lunch.

In the next instant, Logan let out a yelp as he shot straight up in the air,
only to be deposited gracelessly on the roof once more. He dropped flat against
the shingles, sucked in several deep breaths to put his stomach back where it
belonged, then gingerly sat up to give Scott and Kurt a defiant glare. The dork
was smirking, and the blue demon was trying his best to look angelic.

"I found the nail gun," Kurt said rather sheepishly, holding up said piece of
equipment.

Heaving a sigh, Logan snatched it and held it out to Scott. "Do me a favor. Put
this to my head and pull the trigger."

The corners of Scott's mouth turned up in surprised amusement. "Gladly, but with
that hard head of yours, I don't think it would do you much good."

"*Hmph*," Logan grumbled, not really listening. He leaned over the eaves to
glare down at Jean, but she was once again innocently preoccupied with fake
cobwebs and plastic spiders.

"You know, Cyke... sometimes I wonder if you're the luckier guy, after all."



On Sunday morning, Ororo Munroe woke bright and early. She threw on a pair of
slacks and an old pink T-shirt, stopped off in the kitchen to grab an apple, and
headed out to water her garden with some localized rain clouds.

Neither students nor teachers were stirring yet on the ground floor of the
school. Everyone was sleeping in after their hard work of the previous day--so
Ororo was taken by surprise when she stepped onto the back porch and nearly
tripped over Logan.

Fortunately for her, he must have heard her coming, because it would have been a
very bad time to startle him. Not that any time was a *good* time, of course...
but at that particular moment, he just happened to be packing claws. He was
sitting at the top of the steps with a cigar between his teeth, his legs
stretched out, and his back resting against the edge of the porch railing. His
right foreclaw was extended and gleaming in the morning brightness.

And he had a pumpkin on his lap.

Ororo did a double-take and almost dropped her apple, trying to rationalize the
odd sight, while still working through the fact that she may have narrowly
escaped an accidental skewering. "Uh... hi, Logan."

Without even glancing at her, he murmured a casual "Hey, 'Ro," in the quiet
voice which suggested one of his more approachable moods. His attention was
taken up by the pumpkin. Shifting the cigar in his mouth, he frowned critically
at the orange gourd, then executed a short, swift stroke of his claw on its
surface with almost surgical precision.

It was now clear what he was up to. Curiosity got the better of Ororo, and she
stepped to one side, gaining a better view of Logan's jack-o'-lantern. It was
unfinished, but the face was startlingly recognizable, with its catlike eyes,
shaggy whiskers, and vicious teeth.

"That looks like Sabretooth."

Logan's lips drew back slightly from around the cigar, baring his teeth in a
savage little smile. Unless Ororo was mistaken, there was a tone of grim humor
in the rumble that came from somewhere in his chest.

"It's... really good." Ororo sat down on the wooden rocking chair close by,
feeling surprised, amused, and just a little bit unsettled by Logan's subject
matter. "I think Rogue and Bobby were onto something when they started calling
you our 'art professor'."

"Hey, don't start that up again. Took 'em months to stop callin' me that." Logan
glanced up at her, grinning slightly, but there was something odd about his
expression. He looked down thoughtfully at his handiwork, then with his left
hand took the cigar from his mouth and made a small, futile gesture. "It's just
one of those things that comes out of all that empty space in my head,
sometimes."

The admission was strange and unexpected, and Ororo wasn't sure what to say. She
remembered that none of them knew just how long Logan had lived. The rough
simplicity of his ways was deceptive; perhaps he'd had decades to acquire many
diverse skills, of which he had only just scratched the surface.

A smile slowly worked its way across Ororo's lips, and she held out her apple to
him.

He glanced up at her with one eyebrow raised in amusement, but passed on any of
the obvious jokes as he stubbed out his cigar and took the apple from her. A
sweep of his claw sliced it neatly in two. Retracting the claw, he handed over
one half of the fruit, then leaned back and chewed contentedly on the other. For
a few minutes they ate in comfortable silence, enjoying the crisp beauty of the
October morning.

"So what are you going to do with it?" Ororo asked at length, nodding to the
jack-o'-lantern.

"Hmm..." Logan swallowed a mouthful of apple, turning the carved pumpkin in his
hands. "Well, I figured for now I'd let the kids put it with the ones they're
doing for the haunted house. But *after* Halloween..." He paused, grinning
deviously. "I think I'm gonna have Jubilee put on a little light show for me,
with ol' Sabes here as the centerpiece."

Ororo's lips twitched. "I see your therapy is coming along just fine."

"Heck yeah. I haven't beaten the tar out of anyone in almost two weeks." Logan
grinned as Ororo rolled her eyes and folded her arms. For a few humorous
moments, they stared each other down.

"Oh, fine," Logan surrendered at last. "You can have the first shot at it. *One*
lightning bolt. No more."

As Ororo thought of her own acquaintance with Sabretooth, she couldn't resist a
sly grin.



Charles Xavier smiled as his wheelchair rolled up the flagstone path to the
front steps of Old Willows Place. His students--and their teachers--had been
incredibly industrious for the last two weeks, coming over to work on the
haunted house after class and on the weekends. Now, the day before Halloween,
was his first chance to see their handiwork, and he was impressed.

The oak-shaded lawn had been transformed into a mock graveyard that would be
genuinely eerie at night, with painted headstones sprouting unevenly from the
broken sod. Unlit jack-o'-lanterns grinned between the railings of the
cobweb-shrouded porch, while plastic bats and spiders hung from the eaves. A
menacing scarecrow loomed over the hedge, and ghostly apparitions peeked from
the attic windows high above.

Then Charles noticed another change, entirely unrelated to ghosts and ghouls: a
plywood ramp had been built and fitted over the porch steps. He understood its
purpose, and his smile deepened as he maneuvered his chair up it with ease.

As he reached the top of the ramp, Helen stepped out onto the porch, wearing a
pale yellow sundress and a welcoming smile. "Good afternoon, Professor! How do
you like your students' work?"

"It's extraordinary." Charles took her hand and shook it, giving it the lightest
of grateful squeezes before he let go. He gestured to the ramp. "Especially
this. You've made me feel very welcome here."

"Well, you *are*," Helen replied, with a small laugh--and a slight blush.
"Anyway, the credit goes to Bobby and Peter. They built it; all I did was ask
them to."

"I'll be certain to thank them as well," Charles replied, his eyes twinkling.

Helen blushed a little more deeply and lowered her gaze, fidgeting with the
ruffles on her sundress. "The outside of the house has been done for a few days.
We're just giving some finishing touches to the rooms. Come on in and have a
tour. There's lemonade right now, but I have some tea brewing."

She turned to hold open the screen door for Charles and his wheelchair. He
smiled, thanked her, and went in.

Once tastefully decorated with soft colors and elegant antiques, the rooms at
the front of the house had taken on a diverse range of characters, from a
haunted Egyptian tomb to a space station invaded by aliens. Charles followed
Helen from one room to another, greeting the students they found hard at work,
and with a smile he imagined the roles they would play in these fantastic
settings.

He had been right to allow this. They were already having the time of their
lives with it.

In one room, Charles received a preview of what the haunted house's visitors
would experience, when Kurt Wagner suddenly appeared. The teleporter
materialized on a high shelf that would be safely out of the way of straying
hands.

"Oh... *Entschuldigung*," he said politely, peering down from his perch like a
friendly gargoyle. "*Guten Tag*, Professor."

"Good afternoon, Kurt," Charles replied mildly. "I see you're looking forward to
performing again."

"Yes. I have often missed it." With a catlike grace Kurt leaped down from the
shelf, landing lightly on the floor. "Tomorrow night I will be moving back and
forth between most of the rooms, so I wanted to practice them now."

"Well, this one certainly appears to suit you," Charles replied, glancing about
him at the room they were in. Already possessing a large, beautifully wrought
stained glass window, it had been made up to resemble an abandoned church. "Was
this your idea?"

Kurt smiled and ducked his head.

Since the sitting room had been transformed into a haunted Victorian parlor,
Charles and Helen ended up in the breakfast nook at the rear of the house for
tea. Logan and Peter were standing in the adjoining kitchen, munching on Helen's
endless supply of junk food as they discussed something to do with the wiring.
For a moment the Professor listened to them with a smile. Logan had grumbled,
complained, and barked orders for the entire two weeks--a clear sign that he was
enjoying himself immensely.

"When I was helping the kids work on the attic windows, I came across some
things the original owners of the house had left up there," Helen recalled,
stirring her tea. "I found this beautiful white nightdress--a real Victorian
heirloom. It's still in good condition. Kitty absolutely fell in love with it,
so we decided to use it for her ghost costume."

Charles smiled. "What are you planning to dress as?"

"Oh, I have a few options. I also found a box of old costumes from my
off-Broadway days." Helen laughed. "I even found out my flapper dress from
'Capone' still fits. That musical was a spectacular flop, but I have to admit,
Minnie Malloy was one of my favorite characters."

"You were in 'Capone'?" Charles queried. "I saw that show, but I don't remember
seeing your name on the playbill."

Helen smiled. "You wouldn't have. I used a psuedonym. Partly because I knew the
show was going to be a disaster, but more because it was my first time starring
in a musical, and I wasn't sure I wanted to own up to my singing voice."

"You gave yourself too little credit, then. I distinctly recall that I enjoyed
Minnie's solos very much. What was that one song... 'Love or Money'?"

"'The cops want to put their cuffs on my honey, but I won't give him up for love
or money...'" Helen sang lustily, then laughed and shook her head. "Not quite a
masterpiece of verse, but it was *so* much fun while it lasted. I'm amazed you
remember that. It was more than thirty years ago."

"I have always been an avid fan of theater," Charles replied with a smile.

"Oh, yes. *Bad* theater, apparently." Helen grinned at him, resting her chin on
her interlaced fingers. "That's the costume I'll wear tomorrow night, then."

"I'll look forward to seeing it."

"Good. And what can I expect to see you dressed as?"

"Ah. Well." It was Charles' turn to blush slightly. "I really hadn't given the
matter any thought. To tell the truth... I wasn't planning to wear a costume."

"That's too bad." Helen's smile became rather impish. "But we'll let you into
the party anyway."

"Madam, you are too kind."



"I can't believe I let you talk me into this."

As sunset approached on Halloween, Rogue stood before a full-length mirror in
the parlor of Old Willows Place, fidgeting and tugging at the long, straight
white gown she was wearing. She had remained indecisive about her choice of
costume until the last minute, leaving little time for alterations. It would be
a miracle if she got through the night without tripping on the hem and falling
flat on her face, but at least it covered her skin thoroughly, complete with
bandages wrapping her arms and hands.

In fact, she was more worried about damaging her intricate makeup than herself.
Protected from her power by latex surgical gloves, Helen had spent nearly an
hour on her, applying lines of fake stitches and styling her hair.

The result of that cosmetic expertise, and several cans of hairspray, was that
Rogue now looked every bit The Bride of Frankenstein--right down to the bolts on
her neck.

She was not the only one on whom Helen had worked a bit of stage magic. The
former actress spent much of the afternoon meticulously making up first the
haunted-house cast, then the kids who were going trick-or-treating. The room was
now full of Xavier's students, eager to watch each other's transformations into
ghosts, zombies, pirates, and vampires.

Bobby, costumed to match Rogue as Frankenstein's Monster, lurched to her side in
a very bad imitation of Karloff. "*Woman... good*," he grunted, attempting to
put an arm around her waist.

She giggled and pushed him away. "Aw, stop it. Ya sound like Logan."

Seated in a wicker chair across the room, Logan choked on his cigar smoke, and a
grinning Jean leaned over to thump him on the back. Costumed as a princess in a
long, glittering, pale-blue dress, with an elegant tiara on her head, she had
indeed prompted a less-than-articulate reaction from him when she first glided
into the parlor.

Scott stepped through the doorway, wearing the khakis and bomber jacket of a
World War II Navy pilot. He scrupulously ignored the sight of his fiancée's
hand resting on Logan's back, and turned instead to their hostess. "Helen, are
you about ready to open up the house? It looks like you've got your first guests
lining up outside the gate."

Helen, who had not yet put on her own costume, was touching up a student's
makeup. She smiled at Scott and then glanced at the antique clock on the wall.
"They're a few minutes early, but I'm almost done here." To the room in general
she asked, "Could one of you please go hand out some candy to those people, and
thank them for being patient?"

"I'll do it," offered Jubilee, as she bounced to her feet and trotted out of the
room.

Of course, Jubilee *would* volunteer for anything that had to do with candy. She
was colorfully dressed as a gypsy in layered skirts and bead necklaces, with a
kerchief tied around her head. It was an idea Logan had offhandedly given her,
distracted by her swaying hoop earrings when she cornered him to ask for costume
suggestions.

Watching Jubilee's retreat, Rogue shook her head. "There goes the only person I
know who can eat candy and chew gum at the same time."

"Speaking of Jubes..." Bobby turned to an aloof teenage boy in pirate costume
who was sitting in a corner. "Tommy, isn't *that* one of her earrings?"

Tommy "Crash" Krieger grinned slightly and tugged at his left ear, where a gold
hoop hung in place of the stud he usually wore. "I bribed her. First pick of my
candy haul tonight."

Rogue grimaced. "I hope she disinfects that thing when ya give it back to her."

Throughout this exchange, Kristen Mayhew--a tiny blonde dressed as a Powerpuff
Girl--had been looking with an eight-year-old's earnest scrutiny at Logan. Now
she arrested all attention in the room by asking him in a small voice, "How come
you're not wearing a costume?"

Dressed in nothing more than his usual jeans and flannel shirt, Logan squirmed
and uttered a growl so soft, it was practically a whimper.

"Yeah, how come?" Rogue echoed with a grin, always happy to tease her friend.
She poked a finger at her towering Bride of Frankenstein hairdo. "If I've gotta
wear *this* getup, the least you could do is suffer along with me."

"He doesn't need a costume," Scott put in. "People are going to mistake him for
a werewolf as it is."

Logan snorted. "Yeah, just wait until the next full moon, Phaserface."

The students erupted into laughter. Jean rolled her eyes with an exasperated
sound. She, Scott, and Logan had been elected to escort the trick-or-treating
contingent of the student body--which meant she not only had to shepherd a dozen
teenagers and children, but referee two unruly male egos. She expected to last
for about half an hour before she wrapped a lamppost around somebody's neck.

Someone yelped as Kitty abruptly popped through the wall, made up as a ghost in
the Victorian nightgown Helen had given her. Along with Peter, Kurt, and other
members of the "cast", she had been going over her act in the sitting room, and
she was breathless from running through the house--in a very literal sense.
"Miss Grey, Norbie just got sick!"

Amidst sighs from the adults and disgusted faces from the kids, Jean rose with
more grace than her duties as a nursemaid deserved. "He hasn't been into the
candy *already*, has he?"

"Um... not exactly."

"Then what made him sick?"

"Well... he was letting Peter try to juggle his eyeballs... and it kinda made
him dizzy."

The entire room collectively gagged.



Seated on a corner of the porch railing, Ororo Munroe closed her eyes, enjoying
a moment of calm before the excitement to come. A sweet aroma of roasting
pumpkin, rising from the jack-o'-lanterns now lighted and flickering, mingled
with the earthy scents of cut grass and recently turned soil. The air had become
still as the sun went down, and carried clearly the shrieks and laughter of
visitors gathering outside the gates, far off down the long gravel driveway.

She made a spectacular ghost. Her close-fitting costume, in shades of gray,
black, and pale blue, was veiled by diaphanous streamers that could flow and
swirl around her slim figure in a breeze of her own creation. Her makeup, pale
and haunting, was accented with glitter and luminous highlights.

Having long since grown accustomed to the *bamf* of Kurt's teleportation, Ororo
did not flinch at hearing it two yards to her left. She smiled and opened her
eyes. Kurt had appeared on the porch, dressed simply in black garments which, in
the deepening twilight, almost blended with his indigo skin. His demonic looks,
as he had not hesitated to point out himself, had no need for a costume.

"Are the kids ready?" Ororo asked as he approached her.

"Almost. Norbert was... ill." Kurt smiled wanly, his sharp teeth showing a
bright white against the shadowy shades of his face. "Jean is taking care of
him. She asked me to tell you we should watch him carefully once she leaves.
They will be taking the rest of the children in a few minutes--and Frau Conover
says we will then open the gates."

"Great." Ororo returned Kurt's smile, feeling herself blush slightly. "I think
I'm a little nervous. Except for a few plays at the school, I've never really
acted a part like this before." She glanced down at herself, taking in her
splendid spectral costume. "Then again, I feel like I could scare *anyone* in
this."

Kurt frowned in the flickering light of the jack-o'-lanterns, and hopped up onto
the porch railing beside her. Except at the corner where she leaned against a
beam, the rail was hardly wide enough for a human being to sit securely, but he
crouched on his haunches as comfortably as a squirrel with his long tail coiled
around a banister. His amber gaze was filled with puzzlement and curiosity.

"I have never understood this," he said quietly. "When I was in the circus, I
learned that those who came to see me perform *liked* it when I frightened
them--even though they would have run from me if they met me in the street. Now,
here, all these people have come to this house to be frightened the same way."
He shrugged, perplexed. "Why should anyone *want* to feel afraid?"

It was a surprising and difficult question. Ororo frowned and shifted her
weight, pondering how to put her thoughts about so complex and mysterious a
quirk of human nature into words.

"I suppose it's pretty strange, when there's already enough in this world to be
afraid of," she said softly. "I guess most people just like to face their fears,
when they know that nothing is really going to hurt them. Sometimes it's a way
to conquer those fears. Sometimes, it's just a thrill."

Kurt tilted his head. "A thrill?"

"Yes. It's a way of giving ourselves up to something just beyond our
control--the part of us deep down that reacts to what feels like danger, even
when we know we're safe." Ororo paused. "Maybe the real thrill is knowing we can
let those feelings out... but we might not be able to shut them down again."

"I think I understand," Kurt mused. "It is like what I felt on the trapeze. I
knew that I could teleport to safety if I fell--but sometimes, I still thought
about falling. Simply the thought that I *could* was..." he smiled. "A thrill."

Ororo shrugged. "So did you ever fall?"

Kurt's smile deepened. His gaze held hers steadily, a merry twinkle in his eyes.

"Once," he said softly.

The screen door abruptly banged open, disgorging a happy crowd of kids in
costume. They were followed by Jean, Scott, and a visibly reluctant Logan. Only
Jean appeared to notice the shadowy pair sitting on the corner of the porch
railing; she turned to give Ororo and Kurt a small wave.

Then she extended her hand toward the front gates, reaching out with her
telekinesis to open them. To the waiting visitors, it would appear as though
they had opened by themselves.

As the party of trick-or-treating mutants headed toward the side gate of Helen's
property, a stream of eager haunted-house-goers began to make their way up the
driveway. Ororo stood up, grinning at Kurt. "I guess it's showtime."

Returning the grin, Kurt gave her a small salute, then vanished.

Smiling to herself, Ororo spread her hands, her eyes misting into luminous
whiteness. Mentally she reached up to the heavens, summoning the wind, sculpting
the water vapor into eerie dark clouds. Lightning flashed harmlessly between
them, a peal of thunder drifting to earth. Dead leaves whirled and scattered in
a sudden, chilling gust that swayed the darkened trees.

With a nod of satisfaction, Ororo hurried inside to take her place in the
haunted house, as a storm without rain filled the sky above Old Willows Place.

The next interview will be with SJ Smith, author of the
stories "Tantalus," "Triptych," "Thirty Reasons," and "Sunlight" among
others. The stories can be read at the WRFA archive
(http://www.wolverineandrogue.com/fic/dbauthor.php?author_id=286). I
will be conducting the interview around the middle of November. Thus,
if you would like to suggest a question, please contact me by Nov.
13th at the address below. Another announcement will be made when the
completed interview has been posted.

Thanks for your interst and participation.

Diane
deh@...

Title: A Haunting in Westchester (part 3 of 3)
Author: Jordanna Morgan
Disclaimers, etc. located in Part 1



Logan had never been out and about on Halloween before, and after half an hour,
he was firmly convinced that he never wanted to be again.

The streets of the well-to-do neighborhood were crawling with people--and
seemingly all were in costume, from infants in the arms of their parents to
adults headed for one of the local parties. Children ran up and down strangers'
lawns with their bags of candy, or squealed and laughed and tussled with each
other on the sidewalk. On occasion, groups of teenagers could be seen clustered
at a corner or under a tree, perhaps plotting a prank... and hopefully nothing
more ominous.

In the midst of this garish confusion, it was at least a blessing that the
students of Xavier's School were comfortably unremarkable. For once they were
just children, and the only looks they received were admiring glances at their
excellent costumes and makeup.

As for Logan, he neither knew nor cared what anyone thought when they saw him...
as long as they stayed out of his way.

He trailed at the rear of the group, where he could watch the students and make
certain no one strayed. It was Scott who led the way--which, Logan thought, was
extremely typical. Jean was constantly moving in and out amongst their charges,
reminding them to say "thank you", accompanying the younger ones to the doors of
the houses. Her energy was extraordinary.

After some time, she fell back to Logan's side, giving him a bright smile. "Are
we having fun yet?"

Logan stared flatly at her.

"That's what I thought." She shook her head. "Don't worry. It won't be much
longer before the kids start to tire out."

"Wanna bet?"

Jean rolled her eyes. "I thought grinches only came out on Christmas."

Before Logan could reply, Jubilee flounced back to them through the knot of
students, her gaudy necklaces jingling. "Miss Grey, Artie tripped and skinned
his elbow."

With a sigh, Jean delved into a hidden pocket somewhere within the folds of her
full skirt, in which she had secreted half the contents of a first-aid kit.
Producing a Band-aid and a tube of disinfectant gel, she strode forward in
search of a young boy dressed as Harry Potter.

Jubilee grinned at Logan. He frowned in response.

"*Riiiight*," Jubilee murmured uncomfortably, and bounced ahead once more.



The haunted house was surpassing Helen Conover's wildest expectations.

A steady stream of guests were winding their way through the Old Willows Place.
In the foyer, they were greeted by their hostess, who directed them on through
the frights and thrills of the varied rooms. In one, a hulking silver man
menaced the curious with an axe; in another, the ghost of a Victorian girl
seemed to float through the wall. In yet another, a small but menacing alien
creature yanked out his eyeball and held it up to get a better look at the
guests--and in many rooms, particularly that which resembled a desecrated church
sanctuary, a snarling blue-black demon would appear and vanish like a shadow.

Finally, amazed and delighted by these terrifying wonders and many others, the
guests would emerge from a side door onto the veranda. Here, in a milder
environment of benign jack-o'-lanterns and paper streamers, they were welcomed
with refreshments and candy. Buzzing with excited conversation, no one seemed to
notice that the veranda was untouched by the cold, gusty winds that set such a
macabre mood at the front of the house.

Helen was able to spare a moment, now and then, to creep back to the side door
and listen to the visitors' remarks. Without exception, she heard enthusiastic
praise of what she and the students and teachers from Xavier's School had done.

As she had promised Charles, she was dressed as a Roaring Twenties flapper, in a
sequined copper-orange dress and a matching brimless hat. A long, knotted rope
of faux pearls hung around her neck, and she had applied her makeup in the style
of the era, complete with a beauty mark on her cheek. Although she also wore an
elegant fringed shawl of black silk over her shoulders, the halter-top dress was
bold for a woman of her age--but she was pleased with the way she looked.

She only hoped Charles would have a chance to see it.

The Professor had not yet made an appearance. When the others had arrived
earlier in the day, Scott told Helen that he was doing some important work and
expected to be late, but she had now begun to wonder if he would come at all. He
seemed, quite understandably, to be a rather reticent man. However much he had
approved of it as an activity for the students, perhaps this extraordinary
display was not to his own taste, after all.

There came another lull in the arrival of visitors. Picking up the half-empty
candy bowl from the table beside the door, Helen stepped toward the hall,
intending to refill it in the kitchen.

"Why, if it isn't Miss Minnie Malloy."

Helen stopped, a smile spreading over her face. It was Charles' voice,
approaching from the front porch. She turned to face him--and received a
surprise that caused her to clap her hands together, laughing with delight.

There in the open doorway sat the Professor in his wheelchair--dressed in the
perfectly pressed pinstripe suit of an old-fashioned gangster. A gray fedora sat
rakishly on his head, and a white carnation was pinned to his lapel.

"I'm sorry I'm late," he said with a smile, "but I had a devil of a time finding
something to wear."



The trick-or-treaters were slowly making their way back toward Old Willows
Place, and Logan was relieved. Some of the younger children had begun to tire of
walking. Jean and Scott now carried a few of their candy-laden bags--but
everyone knew better than to ask Logan to perform such a chore.

Doubling back on their tracks, they found parts of the neighborhood now growing
dark and quiet, as the residents went to bed or settled in with their horror
movie marathon of choice. The hour for trick-or-treating was coming to a close,
and of the kids still on the streets, many were of an older, perhaps more
mischievous variety. Feeling his alertness heighten, Logan did not question his
instincts, but watched and listened to their surroundings with a renewed
intensity.

Then he heard it.

"Sh-shh," he hissed sharply to the students parading ahead of him, as he stopped
in his tracks.

This effectively silenced their noisy chatter about candy, horror movies, and
the costumes they had seen other people wearing that evening--for when the
Wolverine spoke, they knew it was in their best interest to obey. The group
closed in automatically, looking around in uncertainty and concern, as Jean and
Scott drifted back to where Logan stood motionless and alert.

He heard it again: a scraping, a scuffling, a burst of laughter that did not
sound at all kind. It was too far off for the others to hear, but to Logan, it
was distinct. He glanced at the other two adults.

"Something going on a ways down that street," he murmured, pointing down the
intersection to their left. "I don't like the sound of it."

At this slightest hint of trouble, Scott reached smoothly beneath his bomber
jacket and produced his visor, slipping it on in place of his ruby-quartz
glasses. "Let's have a look. Jean, you'd better stay here with the kids."

"Aw, Mister Summers--" several young voices began to protest.

"Let 'em come," Logan grunted, already on the move toward the suspect sounds.
"I'd like to see the idiots that'd try to mess with this bunch."

Over his shoulder, he heard Scott sigh and relent, no doubt reasoning that the
best safety was in numbers. "Fine. But *stay close*, you guys," he warned the
students sternly.

With that, the entire group quietly followed Logan, who was moving quickly down
the street. Tall old oaks provided plenty of shadows from the streetlamps, and
he instinctively kept to them as he sought the source of the laughter and
taunting cries. Within a few moments they were close enough for the others to
hear it, and Scott sprang forward, matching Logan's stride.

The street dead-ended at an abandoned lot, where a house had burned down some
years before. There was a fence, but it was in disrepair, and Logan easily
slipped through a gap between the wooden slats. Across an expanse of overgrown
weeds and brush, the crumbling remains of the house's walls rose from the bare
foundation. It was from behind this cover that the voices came.

"Come on, ya little minx, drop the bag!"

The speaker was young, male, and threatening. He was also not alone; his demand
was backed up by a few grunts and sniggers of approval. Logan shot a quick frown
at Scott, then slithered into the shadows and quietly leaned around the wall.

What he saw set his blood to a slow boil.

A small figure--a girl of perhaps nine or ten--was perched precariously on top
of what had been an interior wall. How she might have gotten up there was, for
the moment, a mystery--but her reason for doing so was more than clear, for half
a dozen teenage boys were gathered beneath the wall, staring up at her. One was
shining the beam of a large and heavy flashlight on her, while another stretched
upward, trying to prod her with a stick that was fortunately a few inches too
short. Their objective was clearly the full trick-or-treat bag clutched in the
little girl's arms.

Logan glanced over his shoulder, noting that Jean had gathered the kids close
against the outer wall, where they were keeping admirably quiet. Then he looked
at Scott, who had also taken a glimpse around the wall, and he knew from the
younger man's hard-set face that he too was angry.

Just as Logan was about to gesture for action, the most athletic-looking of the
young hoodlums jumped up and managed to catch the top of the wall, holding on
with one hand as with the other he flailed for the girl's bag of candy. A
graceless backhand not only succeeded in knocking the bag to the ground, it
connected with the crouching child's leg, and she let out a small shriek.

That was when it happened.

The little girl's arm shot out with lightning speed, swatting the teenager's
groping hand. He let out a howl of pain and dropped to the ground, wringing his
fist wildly. "She *scratched* me!"

At this, one of his companions went for a broken piece of wooden beam that lay
in the corner.

Cruel mischief and thievery now threatened to turn to violence, and without a
thought, Logan stepped from the cover of the wall into the moonlight. He was
aware that Scott followed him. Their movement instantly drew the attention of
the young thugs, who froze as they were confronted by the two older men.

"I think you boys better find somebody else to play with," Logan remarked, his
stance and tone of voice deceptively casual.

For a moment, there was silence. Then the boy who had reached for the broken
beam finished the act of picking it up, and the one with the flashlight slapped
the heavy cylinder against his palm. The six drew into a tighter, more menacing
pack.

With a bored expression, Logan held up his fist, and the boys suddenly found
themselves staring at three adamantium claws that gleamed ferociously in the
moonlight.

The motley gang shifted nervously as Logan's gaze passed over each one of them,
lingering upon the one who had picked up the little girl's fallen bag. He
appeared to be the youngest, and as he stared at the blade-wielding terror which
confronted them, a weak exclamation of "*Dude*!" escaped his lips.

Logan bared his teeth in a savage smile. "Drop the candy... and start runnin'."

If these boys had been even slightly more intelligent than slugs, they would
have listened to this piece of advice. Unfortunately, their response proved
otherwise, as the ringleader with the flashlight lunged forward and took a
swing.

Logan met the blow with his claws. There was a dull *clink*, and the beam of the
flashlight died, as the bulk of it scattered on the ground in three perfectly
cleaved pieces.

Then all hell broke loose.

A shower of sparks exploded behind the other boys--and Logan recognized the
pyrotechnics as Jubilee's handiwork. He would have shouted at her over his
shoulder to stay out of it, but the display only further alarmed and provoked
the hoodlums. It was all Logan could do to avoid seriously hurting the leader,
who charged at him with what was left of the flashlight's heavy handle.

The ensuing chaos was worthy of any military battlefield. The scarlet beams of
Scott's optic blasts lit up the darkness, and more plasma bursts chased after
the panicked thugs, who found themselves slipping on a layer of ice as they
scrambled to get away. Logan ducked just in time as one of the boys sailed
through the air--under the telekinetic power of either Jean or Tommy, it was
impossible to say which--and crashed bodily into the ringleader.

It was all over within seconds, as the six howling and no doubt thoroughly
bruised boys scattered and fled into the night.

Retracting his claws, Logan looked toward Jean and the older students, most of
whom had emerged from behind the wall to gleefully take part in the mayhem. At
least Rogue had herded the younger children into a more sheltered spot, for
which Logan was proud of her. Leaving Scott to double-check that everyone was
alright, he turned to look for the subject of the altercation.

The little girl was no longer on top of the wall. Arching an eyebrow, Logan
sniffed the air. His nose and his searching gaze led him to a pine tree where,
incredibly, the girl was clinging to the rough trunk a dozen feet above the
ground. She was wearing a witch's costume, a black dress with a pointed hat that
had somehow managed to remain on her head.

As she stared down at him in a mixture of fear and awe, he realized there was
something not quite ordinary about the widely dilated pupils of her green eyes.
His gaze shifted to her hands, confirming his suspicion: the child was a mutant.
Her fingers were tipped with long, curved, feline claws that dug securely into
the bark of the tree. No wonder one of her tormentors had screamed bloody murder
when she scratched him.

"You can come down now, darlin'," he said gently. "Nobody's gonna hurt you now."

Slowly, cautiously, the girl inched a few feet down the tree. Then she paused,
looking gravely at the other children who stood watching her, at Jean and Scott,
and finally back at Logan.

"Are you mutants?" she asked, in a small voice.

With a rueful smile, Logan nodded. "That's right."

Curiously enough, this confirmation seemed to reassure the girl. She scooted
down the tree with no further hesitation, and when Logan reached out to help
her, she shifted easily into his arms. Her sharp claws folded back into her
fingertips as she wrapped her arms firmly around his neck. To his surprise, he
realized she had no intention of letting go; he shot a helpless look at Jean,
but she simply smiled.

Slowly, Logan returned the smile. As he gently shifted the child's weight
against his hip, she let out a small sigh and laid her head on his shoulder. The
movement pushed her hat slightly askew, giving him a glimpse of a pointed,
catlike ear.

"What's your name?" he asked her.

"Emily Reeve."

"How'd you get all the way out here?"

"I was trick-or-treating with my cousins, and I got lost on the way back to my
aunt's house." Emily turned her head slightly, giving Logan a guileless gaze.
"It's on Meadowfield Drive. Can you help me get back?"

Logan smiled at her. "Sure we can. Come on."

With that, holding her securely with one arm around her waist, he carried her
back to the others. Bobby had retrieved the bag of candy which the fleeing thugs
had dropped, and held it out to Emily, but she continued to cling to Logan's
neck. It was he who took the bag in his free hand, ignoring the smiles and
chuckles of Jean, Scott, and the students as they followed him down to the
sidewalk.

The long night had just gotten longer... but somehow, Logan didn't mind.



By midnight, the gates of Old Willows Place were closed to visitors, and the
cast of the haunted house had retired to enjoy an after-party in the mansion's
old ballroom. The trick-or-treaters had straggled back not long before, bursting
with a tale to tell about a young damsel in distress. Emily's aunt and uncle had
been beside themselves with worry, and overwhelmed with relief and gratitude at
her return, they had detained her rescuers to enjoy their hospitality for nearly
an hour.

Still dressed in his gangster regalia, Charles Xavier contentedly watched the
activity in the ballroom. A few students in costume, including Kitty, Peter,
Rogue, and Bobby, were dancing--and Jean was pulling Scott across the floor to
join in. Some of the trick-or-treaters were sorting their candy haul, as others
regaled their friends with the story of their eventful night. Ororo and Kurt
were seated upon folding chairs by the buffet table, enjoying a bite of late
dinner. Logan sat with them, quietly indulging in a cigar.

And then there was Helen, a busy and happy hostess, inspecting the buffet to
ensure that it remained well-stocked. As she looked up, her eyes met Charles',
and with a smile she wound her way toward him through the maze of party games
and dancing couples.

"I heard them talking about the scrape the kids got into out there," she said,
kneeling beside his wheelchair to converse over the sounds of music and revelry.
"I'm sorry that had to happen."

"In spite of their recklessness, I'm proud of them," Charles replied warmly.
"They're learning to use their gifts to help others. One day, if they choose to
take their place as X-Men, they're going to be fine additions to the team."

"They've got a good example to follow," Helen replied softly, her hand touching
his.

Charles looked into Helen's blue eyes, bright with tender kindness. Her cheeks
colored beneath the heavy costume makeup, but she did not look away as he leaned
slightly closer, drawing a deep breath.

Jubilee abruptly jangled up to them in her gypsy garb.

"Hey, Professor, can I get you anything from the buffet?"

For a brief moment, Charles' eyes held Helen's as he sighed. Then he turned to
Jubilee, smiling gracefully, and shook his head. "No, thank you."

With a whimsical shrug, Jubilee jingled away. Charles glanced at Helen with a
long-suffering look, and she burst into laughter, leaning her head against his
shoulder.

Across the room, Logan scowled around his cigar. "That little brat cheated."

"What?" queried a baffled Kurt.

"I had a bet with Jubilee that the Professor and Mrs. Conover were gonna lock
lips before this Halloween stuff was over with. They were just about to do it,
until she burst their bubble."

Ororo sighed and rolled her eyes. "You're impossible, Logan."

"Hey, I win by default. Sparky's gotta cough up ten bucks now. 'Scuse me." Logan
stood up and stalked toward Jubilee, who had ducked into the cover of a group of
students bobbing for apples. Eyes widening at his approach, she took a deep
breath and plunged her face into the tub of floating fruit, heedless of her
makeup.

Fortunately for Jubilee, Logan was intercepted by little Kristen, who was one of
several younger children taking turns swinging at a piñata in the shape of a
jack-o'-lantern. As he passed by the group, she caught his sleeve and tugged at
it.

"We can't get the piñata to break. Could you help us?"

Logan looked from Kristen to the papier-mâché pumpkin and back again. She
smiled gamely and offered him the plastic baseball bat they had been using. He
brushed it aside with a grunt, and raised his fist.

Out came the claws, and down went the piñata in shreds, spilling its contents
across the floor.

"Thanks!" Kristen chirped brightly, as the children pounced on the scattered
candy. Logan retracted his claws and shook his head, stifling a faint smile.

As the stereo switched from a slow song to the ghoulish strains of Bobby
Pickett, Jean and Scott retreated from the dance floor, leaving the Monster Mash
to the kids. Holding hands, the couple sat down close to Kurt and Ororo, who
were deep in their own conversation.

"You see?" Jean said to Scott with a smile. "Everything worked out just fine."

"Yeah," Scott murmured, but there were troubled frown lines at the corners of
his mouth.

"What's wrong now?"

Scott shook his head and shrugged. "I was just wondering how we're going to top
this *next* year."



~FINIS~


Additional Notes: Two of the original characters here are drawn from my previous
stories. Tommy "Crash" Krieger appeared in "Persona Non Grata", and Kristen
Mayhew appeared in "Big Bad Wolf". Helen Conover, Norbert "Sleuth" Smith, and
Emily Reeve are all new creations of mine. (Emily's surname was chosen as a
tribute to actor Christopher Reeve, who passed away just prior to this story's
completion.)
For those who couldn't guess what movie the name of Old Willows Place comes
from, it was the name of the house in the Ed Wood, Jr. shlock classic "Bride of
the Monster".


(c) 2004 Jordanna Morgan - send feedback

Perfect ending to a great story. Did I mention that I
love Wolvie's role in this? Loved how he froze, 'on
point' upon hearing the noise in the alley. And of
course, great use of his claws. :)
Thanks for sharing,
Emily


=====
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Fanfiction by Black_Wingedbird:
www.angelfire.com/falcon/black_wingedbird
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------\
-------------------------------------------------
'When I think of heaven (Deliver me in a black-winged bird)
I think of flying down into a sea of pens and feathers...'
-Counting Crows, Rain King









__________________________________________________
Do You Yahoo!?
Tired of spam?  Yahoo! Mail has the best spam protection around
http://mail.yahoo.com

Greetings all, in my current story I have been calling
Colossus 'Peter' and now I see that it is really
'Piotr'.  I'm basing my story off of movieverse, but I
also want to be correct. Has it ever been Peter, or is
that just spawned from misinterpretation from the
movie?
Thanks ahead,
Emily

=====
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------\
-------------------------------------------------
Fanfiction by Black_Wingedbird:
www.angelfire.com/falcon/black_wingedbird
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------\
-------------------------------------------------
'When I think of heaven (Deliver me in a black-winged bird)
I think of flying down into a sea of pens and feathers...'
-Counting Crows, Rain King











__________________________________
Do you Yahoo!?
Check out the new Yahoo! Front Page.
www.yahoo.com

Hey all,

I finally finished my third X-Men story.  I'm submitting it all
today, but because it is so long I have broken it up into chapters.
Hopefully it won't feel totally unmanageable when you sit down to
read it that way!

***

Title: Capture and Release
Author: Crisis Kris
Rating: PG-13
Summary: When a day out goes horribly awry, Logan finds himself once
again in the hands of the military.  Will he be able to put the
pieces of his past together?
Notes:  This story follows from my last one, Bad Blood.  There are a
few references to this story here that won't make sense if you
haven't read Bad Blood, but not enough that they will seriously
detract from the plot if you choose to read this one alone.
Thanks: To the amazing Gaaak, who once again has done a phenomenal
job of turning my rough drafts into something coherent.


Charles Xavier looked up from the book he was reading and
frowned.  "Something's wrong with Logan," he said, concentrating.

"What's wrong with Logan is you sent him to the mall with three
teenage girls," Ororo Munroe replied absently, flipping through a
magazine with her feet up by the fire.  Kurt Wagner smiled slightly
from across the room.

"They needed to go do something and he needed to feel useful,"
Charles replied absently, "and this has nothing to do with the
mall."  His frown deepened, and the two mutants enjoying the night
with him sobered up immediately.

"I'll go get Scott," Kurt offered, slipping out of his chair.  Ororo
nodded her thanks, worry furrowing her brow.  Sympathetically, the
wind picked up outside.  Charles ignored it; trying to focus.
Logan's mind was, at best, difficult to read.  The children, on the
other hand, Charles could pick up loud and clear – they were
terrified.

***

"Thanks, Wolvie," Jubilee sing-songed for what seemed to be the
hundredth time as she scampered past him into some god-awful girls'
store, chattering away with Kitty as they picked through the sales
rack.  Logan grunted at her, but couldn't find it in him to get mad
about the pet name.  Next to him, Marie smiled slightly.

"She likes you," the southern girl stated.  He snorted.

"Mmm, yeah.  I get that from the `wolvie'."  He replied, "But it's
only `cause no one else is crazy enough to take her out here."  He
watched as the excitable young woman accidentally let fly a few
sparks, nearly setting a pantsuit on fire.  "Hey, watch it!" He
called to her.  "You burn, you buy!" Jubilee just grinned and
dragged Kitty further into the store.  Marie laughed.  Logan looked
at her sideways.  "And you?  Why aren't you in there tryin' stuff
on?  You know you all got enough money for back-to-school clothes."

Marie shrugged.  "I'd rather hang out with you," she replied shyly.
Logan looked away, uncomfortable.

"You mean, you feel bad that I've got to deal with the mall rats,
and you're trying to keep me company," he rephrased.  Jean's words
came back to him – `I think she's a little taken with you' - and he
ducked his head, a bit embarrassed.  Then he started remembering the
rest of the conversation, and Jean, and how Scott had wept in his
arms the entire way back from Alkali Lake to Westchester, and he
swallowed hard against the lump that had suddenly formed in his
throat.  It had been eight months since her death, and the grief
still took him by surprise sometimes.  ~Damn, Jeannie, ~ he thought,
and then Marie's gloved hand touched his arm and he jerked back up,
clearing his throat.  "Hmmm?"

"You haven't heard a word I said, have you?" Marie replied,
annoyed.  "Look, Jubilee and Kitty have moved on to The Gap, and I'm
starving…" Suddenly, a strange scent filled the air – a bad one.
Logan shushed the young woman at his side with one hand, sniffing
deeply.  "What is it?" she whispered, stiffening.  He shook his
head.

"Go get the others," he replied, slowly turning around.  The smell
was vaguely familiar, masculine and metallic at the same time, like…
like soldiers.  Guns.  That's what he smelled.  Men with guns.  He
growled under his breath, startling a couple of shoppers walking
by.  Their presence reminded him – just in time – to keep his claws
sheathed until he was certain there was a threat.

"What's going on?  There's this really cool shirt I just want to try
on before we do anything else – it's a bit more than I know we're
allowed to spend, but I think it's totally worth it and maybe you
could lend me the money? Logan?" Jubilee and Kitty had returned with
Marie, and as always, the young Asian was talking non stop.

"Shut up," he replied, and Jubilee scowled, hands on her hips.  She
was about to reply something very rude when Marie let out a scream.

"Logan, behind you!" Logan whirled and saw soldiers pouring out into
the mall from a nearby stairwell.  Shouts and exclamations were
heard all around them as shoppers took notice of the action and some
of the soldiers moved off to keep the growing crowd away, but Logan
kept his eyes focused on the half dozen men approaching him.  He put
the girls behind him and unsheathed his claws, oblivious to the
gasps of shock that came from the onlookers.  "Back off!" he
shouted.  The soldiers didn't comply, but pressed steadily closer.
Logan took a few experimental swipes and they stopped their offense,
but didn't back away.

  "Kitty," he called, "I want you to get going – get back to the car,
and drive back to the mansion." Kitty was the oldest of the three,
and had been out to town a few times on her own.  She had a good
sense of direction.  "Go now." Something in his voice made her obey
without question, and turning, she ran right through the wall behind
them, leading to another swell of voices from those watching. One of
the soldiers swore and muttered something into his radio.  Logan
prayed that the girl would make it to the car before whatever backup
the man was calling for came.

He took a deep breath.  One kid out of danger, hopefully.  Two more
to go.  Just then, Jubilee let out a terrified squawk.  He turned in
time to see a soldier put a gun to the girl's head.  Her hands were
immobilized at her side; they crackled, but she couldn't lift them
to set off her fireworks.  Beside her, Rogue had been captured in a
similar fashion.  Logan growled and stepped nearer to them.

"I wouldn't, if I were you," A voice behind him cautioned.  He
whirled around.  A man with a long, thin face stood before him,
hands clasped behind his back.  He was wiry, but Logan could sense
certain strength about him.  Career military, he decided.

"What do you want?" he ground out, eyes narrowing.

The military man smiled.  "I want you," he replied.  "Come with me,
without protest, and the two girls live.  Cause trouble, and they
die.  It's as simple as that."  There was a distinct clack-clacking
sound behind him as two guns cocked.  The soldiers stood ready to
shoot at their commander's orders.  The crowd fell silent for a
moment at the ominous sound before the frightened – and excited –
buzz of conversation picked up again.

"Let the girls go and we'll talk," Logan promised.

The commander shook his head.  "No, I think not," he replied.  "I've
seen you in action.  I have no intention of trusting you, not even
for a minute.  I think we will all take a walk outside, calmly and
quietly."  He gestured for Logan to proceed ahead of him, following
the soldiers who held the two girls.

Logan complied reluctantly, his eyes darting left and right, trying
to find a way out of the situation.  For now though, it seemed
impossible.  He was fast, but he couldn't run faster than a bullet,
and neither Jubilee nor Marie would survive one to the head.  Behind
him, he could hear one of the other soldiers reassuring the
crowd: "It's okay, folks, the mutants have been apprehended."
Murmurs rose amongst the spectators and Logan tensed in anger, but
he kept his mouth shut.

"Good boy," the commander said in a quiet voice, directly behind the
other man.  Logan growled but did not otherwise respond.  The
military man was so close that Wolverine could have taken him out
with a casual flick of his wrist, but he had no doubt that the men
in front of him had orders to shoot to kill if something ever
happened to their commander.  He continued to walk, his eyes glued
to the two frightened teens, seething in helpless fury.

"If you hurt them," he finally replied, lowly.  "I *will* kill you."

"We'll see," the other man replied.

They walked out to the parkade, where a covered truck and a jeep
were waiting for them.  Logan glanced around surreptitiously,
pleased to see that the car he'd taken into town was gone.  That
meant Kitty had gotten away, at least.

"Get in." The voice behind him brooked no argument, but Logan
hesitated anyway.

"Let the girls go," he countered.

"Not yet.  Get in."  He watched as the two girls were loaded into
the jeep, grudgingly admiring the planning that had gone into this
little operation.  The two vehicles appeared to be in constant radio
contact; he couldn't attack his captors without potentially putting
Jubilee and Rogue's lives in danger.  Reigning in his temper, he got
in the truck.  ~Chuck, if you can hear me, ~ he projected silently,
~send help now! ~

***

Note: For intro and info, please see Teaser
Also, if I posted this chapter twice, please accept my apologies (my
computer crashed).

***

Scott pulled the car up onto a side road about half a mile from the
location that Charles had pinpointed using Cerebro.   They had no
idea what they were heading into, and they needed a plan.

  "Kurt, can you do a little reconnaissance for us?" Scott spoke in a
hushed tone, as though he was afraid someone would overhear, even
from this distance.  Taking his cue from their leader, Kurt nodded
silently and padded away. Scott and Hank checked their surroundings
and made sure that there was no one on the perimeter, before
relaxing against the car.

After a moment, Hank picked up on their prior conversation. "I
appreciate that you see a difference between my research and Colonel
Stryker's.  As a scientist, I have always believed in the primacy of
objective knowledge, based on rigorous experimentation.  The subject
of that experimentation has never been a concern of mine before.
However, I am beginning to see that the experiences of experimental
subjects might in and of themselves be an important area of
consideration."  He sighed. "I would very much like to turn my
attention toward helping people such as Logan recover from the
traumas they've suffered."

Scott looked at the other man, a bit surprised.  Hank was the newest
addition to the team, and he'd been quite reserved thus far.  He was
unfailingly polite, an excellent doctor, and a passable – if a *bit*
boring – teacher, but the depth of emotion the bestial man could
feel suggested that there was much more to this man than his self-
identification as a scientist would imply.  "I think that's an
incredible idea, Hank," Scott replied finally.  "God knows there's a
need for it."  Hank offered him a smile.

They sat in silence for a moment more, and then Kurt appeared at
their side in a halo of blue smoke.   "There is a warehouse, just
over that rise," he said, indicating the direction with his
hand.  "It has some very sophisticated technology, but it appears to
be abandoned."

"Abandoned?"  Scott was surprised.  Why would they go to the trouble
of taking Rogue and Jubilee all the way out here, only to
leave?  "Well, let's check it out anyway.  We might be able to find
something.  Kurt – do you think you could get inside?"  Kurt had
been practicing teleporting into spaces that he had not seen, trying
to hone his natural sixth sense for spaces.  He thought for a
moment, and then nodded.  "Okay," Scott said, straightening
up.  "Let's go – Hank and I will keep a lookout while you try to
infiltrate the building.  Hopefully, you can find a way to bypass
their security and we can get some clues as to what's going on
here."  The others nodded in agreement, and they headed out.

***

Rogue would definitely not be her first pick for a driving
instructor, Jubilee decided, watching the other girl racing down the
highway, but you had to admit she was determined.  Jubilee still
wasn't convinced that heading back towards a military base where
people had threatened to kill them was a good idea, but she could
understand why Rogue would want to be a part of the action.  It was
a lot better than sitting around the school wondering if everyone
was going to come home in one piece.

She looked out the window as the trees whipped past them, thinking
back to five months ago, when the Brotherhood had attempted to
attack the school.   Professor Xavier had asked all the students to
go to the gymnasium and stay there until one of the teachers came
and told them otherwise.   They'd sat and waited, bored and
confused, for almost two hours before Storm appeared to tell them
they could go back to their dorm rooms.  None of the teachers were
anywhere to be seen; they, and Rogue and Bobby with them, were all
down in the medical lab.  A couple of the students had tried to get
in there, but Storm had quickly ushered them out.  After a while,
Logan had come out, looking a little more grim than usual.  Jubilee
really liked the older man, but she was a bit afraid of him; she
hadn't approached, and he'd disappeared toward the garage without
saying a word.

After that, well… Professor Xavier only let as much information
trickle down to the students as he thought they needed to know.
They were told that Logan had run into some trouble, and the X-Men
were going to help him out.  They were told that Professor Xavier
needed to concentrate in Cerebro and that he was not to be
disturbed.  And, of course, they were told to behave themselves.
But no one had told them what had happened – Jubilee had resorted to
grilling Rogue for details later, after they'd all returned.  She
had to admit she had been more than a little bit jealous – she'd
wanted to be an X-Man ever since she'd arrived at the Institute.
But now that she was actually *doing* it – actually going into some
messed up situation to help save somebody – she wasn't so sure she
was up to it.

"So let's go over this one more time, okay?" she asked
anxiously.  "We're going to drive back to the warehouse, and we're
going to do what?"

"We're going to help Scott."  Rogue kept her eyes on the road as the
wound around a somewhat sharp curve.

Beside her, Jubilee nodded in understanding.  "Right – and what if
Scott's not there anymore?"

"Uh…" to tell the truth, Rogue really didn't have a plan.  She had
courage and, after a few missions, enough confidence to believe that
she could hold her own, but she'd always left the strategizing to
the older members.  Part of her agreed with Jubilee that they should
have stuck to the original idea and gotten back to the mansion as
quickly as possible.  But another part of her was burning with fury
at the thought of Logan in the hands of the military.  When he had
given her his healing powers, some of his memories had also been
transferred.  She'd seen clearly what lay just beneath his
consciousness.  The things he could only access in dreams, the
fleeting images that haunted him, she had seen in living color.  The
thought of him facing something like that again filled her with a
rage she couldn't explain.

"Uh, Rogue?" a small voice shook her from her thoughts.  She spared
a glance for the young woman beside her.  Jubilee's face had gone a
little green.  "Could we please just slow down, just a little?"
Rogue glanced down at the speedometer, surprised.  Without knowing
it, she'd been stamping down on the gas pedal, lost in thought.

"Sorry," she backed off, willing herself to calm down.  ~You can't
help Logan if you kill yourself in a car crash, ~ she reminded
herself sternly, surreptitiously checking to make sure Jubilee was
wearing her seatbelt.  She took a deep breath, and planted her eyes
back on the road.

***

Logan had plenty of experience with pain.  Despite not having any
recollection of his previous life, however long that had been, he
was pretty sure he'd been in pain more than the average guy was –
and definitely more than anyone should have been.  He'd been
stabbed, shot, poisoned… but nothing was quite like what he was
experiencing now.  He gasped for air, feeling like he might get sick
at any moment.  Sabretooth watched him impassively from across the
room.

After what seemed like an eternity, Logan found the strength to lift
his head.  "What – what's happening to me?" he whispered
hoarsely.  "What are they doing?"  The soldiers had returned to
their cell very briefly, and had injected something into Logan's
spinal column.  At first it hadn't really done anything, and then
suddenly it felt like he was burning from the inside out.

The other man's eyes glittered dangerously.  "They are hoping to
salvage some scrap metal," he replied.

"What the hell does that mean?"

"The metal on your bones, Logan," Sabretooth spoke slowly, as if to
a child.  "They want it back. Since they can't remove it in its
solid state, they're trying to return it to its liquid form. "

Logan gasped against the pain, which did, indeed, seem to radiate
through his muscles from his skeleton.  "Why?" He ground the word
out, hoping that talking with Sabretooth would help keep him from
focusing too much on what was happening in his body.

"Because Adamantium is incredibly difficult to collect," Sabretooth
replied.  "They want Adamantium, and the largest known source, now
that the Alkali Lake base is underwater, is you."

Logan panted, twisting in his chains in agony.  "But why - why take
it from me?  I thought I was their weapon."

Sabretooth laughed loudly.  "You were," he replied.  "But did you
really think you were Stryker's only weapon?  Ha.  You were the
first one.  After the experiment with you failed, Stryker decided
not to try putting Adamantium into anyone for a little while.  He
conducted other experiments instead."  There was a creaking noise
and the large man shifted in his chains. "Obviously, someone has
decided that it's time to bring the team back together."

"What team?" Logan's vision was blurring. He felt something dripping
down from his hands and he looked up, fully expecting to see blood
seeping through his skin.  He was shocked to find that the fluid
seeping out of him, sliding out from under his fingernails, was
silver.  He hissed in pain.

Sabretooth quirked an eyebrow.  "Looks like it's working."

***

Charles looked at the expectant young faces surrounding him and felt
a wave of sadness.  He sometimes forgot that these were just
children; they loved and trusted their teachers in the innocent way
that children do.  There was no fear on the faces before him, no
recognition – except in Kitty's eyes – of how serious their
situation might be.  There was only trust that whatever it was,
Professor Xavier would make it all right.  He would keep them safe.
Charles cleared his throat.  "I realize that you are confused about
why I called us all together like this," he started, half-surprised
at the calm, steady voice that came out of his mouth.  "I hope that
I will be able to answer all your questions."  He picked his way
through the day's events carefully, not telling the children any
more than they needed to know.   He could not, however, avoid
telling them that Logan, Rogue, and Jubilee had been apprehended,
and that they were likely now in prison.

"We have to go get them!" Bobby exclaimed from the back, standing
up.  "We can't just leave them there!"  His agitation poured off him
like sweat.  Charles stayed quiet a moment as he sorted through the
jumble of emotions the younger man was projecting – fear, anger and
love – as he thought about Rogue in the hands of the military.

Charles held up a hand for calm.  "Scott, Kurt, and Hank are already
on their way to find the girls," he replied.  "This is a very
dangerous situation, Bobby, and it's important that we all stay
calm.  Please believe me, I will not let them come to harm."

"What about Professor Logan?" A young voice piped up from the front
row.  Charles shifted to look down on William, the young boy who
never slept.  "He's – he's been in a military prison before.  They
weren't very nice to him."

Charles was surprised.  "Did Logan tell you that?" he asked.  He'd
had no idea that Logan had been forthcoming with any of the children
about his past.

William nodded.  "Yeah, when I asked him why he had so many
nightmares.  We're not going to leave him there, are we?  He'll get
scared."  William's words were echoed by a number of other voices.

Charles shook his head.  "We're not going to leave anybody behind,"
he replied, "But getting our friends back is only one part of what
we need to do."  He sighed, scanning the room.  There were nearly
forty children at the mansion now.  Was he about to ask the
impossible?  "Because of what happened at the mall today, the
Ministry of Education has decided that they need to do an inspection
of the school.  Now, I know we have always told you that this is a
safe place to use your powers, but just for this visit, I need each
and every one of you to be very careful and not use your powers at
all while the Ministry officials are here."

Puzzled faces met his.  "But why?" asked one student.  "You always
told us that mutants shouldn't have to hide who they are from other
people."

"Yeah, but sometimes you have to be careful," another student
answered before Charles could even open his mouth.

"Well, that's not fair!" A third one exclaimed, and suddenly the
room filled with noise as the students bickered back and forth with
each other.

"Children, please," Charles said, but they took no notice of
him.  "Children."  He sighed.  "Be quiet!" he finally exclaimed, and
the room quieted immediately.  No one there could ever recall a time
when Professor Xavier had raised his voice before.  They looked at
him, a little shocked.  "I'm sorry," he apologized, "but these are
very special circumstances.  You must do as I tell you, and not ask
questions.  You must not use your powers while the Ministry
officials are here.  You must not tell them that Logan is a teacher
here.  If they ask about him, say that he only stayed for a few
days, when he dropped Rogue off.  If they ask about Rogue, Jubilee
or Kitty, you must tell them that you didn't know they were
mutants.  You thought they were merely gifted students like
yourselves.  It is very important.  Do you understand?"

"Yes, Professor," meek voices rang out around the room, and Charles
saw that all the students were nodding back at him.  All but one,
that is. Bobby was glaring at him, and if he'd had the ability to
freeze people simply with his eyes, Charles was certain he'd be a
block of ice by now.

"Then you're dismissed," he told the rest of the room.  As he
expected, Bobby stayed behind as the other children filtered out and
once the last was gone, the young man strode up to the professor,
his hands clenched at his side.

"Your plan sucks," he seethed.  Charles said nothing, letting the
young man speak his piece.  "Basically, you're letting the
government know that Rogue is a mutant.  You're selling her out!"

Charles gazed at him steadily, his eyes full of compassion.  "Bobby,
I'm very sorry," he said quietly.  "But at this point, I do not
believe that Rogue was able to evade capture.  If she's been taken
then they already know that she's a mutant."

"But we should be protecting her!" Bobby's voice wavered between a
shout and a wail.  "And that's another thing, am I an X-Man or not?
Because you act like I am, but then when there's trouble, everyone
else gets sent off, and you leave me here like one of the kids.
What's up with that?"  His face betrayed his emotions, tinged red
with anger.

Charles took a moment to consider the boy's comments.  He hadn't
even considered contacting Bobby when he realized something had gone
wrong at the mall – he'd just operated out of habit, working with
Storm and Scott and letting them coordinate the team.  "You're
right" he apologized.  Bobby looked surprised.  "I should have let
you know.  I'm not saying that you would have necessarily gone on
this mission, but you had the right to be made aware of what was
happening.  I won't do it again."

"Thanks," Mollified, Bobby sat down.  "So… now what do we do?"

Charles thought about it a moment.  "Well, as a matter of fact,
there is something that I need done, and you may be just the man to
do it…"

***

Kurt took a deep breath, concentrating.  He had successfully
teleported into rooms he couldn't see a few times, back at the
mansion, but they'd always been places he'd at least seen before,
which made it easier.  This time, however, he had nothing to go on
but his instincts.  He tried to visualize what the inside of the
warehouse must look like.  It was a fairly large building, so he
guessed it must have a main room of substantial size.  Picturing
other warehouses he had seen, he created the image of a warehouse
floor in his mind.  "Okay, I'm going in," he whispered into the
microphone he wore.

"Good luck."  Scott's voice came back to him, tinny over the radio.

Kurt closed his eyes, muttered a quick prayer, and teleported.

Bamf!  He reappeared in the middle of a large room, all right – but
about six feet off the floor!  With a strangled cry, he crashed to
the ground.  Before he had a chance to get to his feet again, he
found himself face to face with the barrel of an automatic
weapon.  "Get up!"  A voice demanded, and Kurt looked up to see two
soldiers with their guns trained on him.  It was the nearer of the
two that had spoken.

Kurt nodded, holding his hands up disarmingly.  "Lord, help me," he
intoned in quiet, prayer-like fashion, hoping Scott would
understand.

"What the hell is this?" the soldier exclaimed at nearly the same
time, ripping the microphone away from Kurt's head.  The blue mutant
blanched.  This was not going to be good…

Just then there was the sound of wrenching metal.  "Someone's
breached the perimeter fence!" Kurt looked up to see a third soldier
stationed behind a series of video screens.  In grainy black and
white, Kurt could see Scott and Hank hurrying through a hole Scott
had obviously just blasted through the fence.  Then there was a loud
crashing sound, and one of the exterior walls came tumbling down.
Kurt scrambled to get out of the way as debris flew all around him.

"Scott, look out!  There are guards…"  Kurt's cry of warning was cut
off as one of the soldiers grabbed him, jamming the barrel of his
gun against Kurt's head.

"You move and I'll kill the elf," he growled.  Scott, who had
stormed through the hole he'd created, ready to blast the hell out
of everything and everyone, stopped dead in his tracks.  Hank pulled
up short behind him.

"Okay, take it easy," Scott help up his hands.  The soldier who held
Kurt nodded to his compatriots and they trained their weapons on the
other two mutants.

"Let's put them in the holding cell, come on," one of them indicated
the way with a sharp nod.  The others agreed.

"Move," Kurt's captor ordered, tapping his weapon against Kurt's
temple for emphasis.  Kurt started walking, trying to determine
whether he could teleport fast enough to disarm both the guard
watching Scott and the one watching Hank before either of them could
pull off a shot.  He'd done such a thing in the White House, when
Stryker had been controlling him, but he'd never pulled something
like that off on his own power.  He prayed silently for a sign.

Just then, screeching tires announced the arrival of a vehicle, and
seconds later, an army jeep careened into the building through the
hole Scott had created.  Jubilee jumped out of the passenger side,
sparks flying from her fingers.

"Argh!" The man holding Scott cried out, throwing his hands up to
his face.  Jubilee had skidded to a stop only a few feet away from
him, and he'd been blinded.  Kurt saw his opportunity and took it.
He teleported quickly to Hank's side, knocking the soldier guarding
the blue man aside with his tail, even as Scott raised his hand to
his visor and took out the man that had been guarding Kurt.  The
blinded soldier had already been dispatched by Jubilee, who'd
followed her pyrotechnic display with a well-aimed kick to the
crotch.

"Ta-da!" she announced, grinning, when it was all over.  Kurt
grinned back.

Scott scowled.  "What the hell do you think you're doing?" he
shouted.  Jubilee's smile disappeared and she took a step back,
uncertain.  "You could have been killed!  This is a dangerous
situation!"

"It was my idea," Rogue had stepped out of the jeep and now stood
beside her friend.  "I couldn't just drive home and hide like a
little girl, when Logan needs my help."

"That's precisely what you should have done," Scott countered, still
flushed with anger.  "When you act impulsively like that, you're a
liability to the whole team."  Jubilee's lip was trembling now, and
even Rogue looked a little uncertain.  They'd never seen Scott so
mad before.

"Why don't you take a walk, my friend," Kurt suggested, coming over
to diffuse the situation.  "It is done now.  Besides, while it may
have been impulsive, Ms. Jubilee here may have saved our lives."

Scott took a deep breath.  "You're right.  I'm sorry."  He nodded
his head at the two girls and walked away.  Hank drifted over to his
side.

Kurt turned his attention back to the two girls.  "It's all right.
You did well.  Scott's just worried about Logan.  It's his job to
protect all of us; he's the team leader."  Rogue nodded in
understanding, and Jubilee offered him a little smile.

"Hey, what's that?" she asked, looking over his shoulder.  He turned
to see that she was pointing at the video screens the third guard
had been watching.

"It's a security station," he replied.

Jubilee tsked at him.  "I know that, doofus," she replied.  "I mean,
what's that?" She jabbed one finger at the screen furthest on the
left.  "I wonder where that tunnel goes."

Kurt regarded it thoughtfully.  "Indeed," he replied.  "Scott?
Hank?"  The other two men came and joined them, and soon all five of
them were contemplating the image.

"I don't know," Hank finally said.  "It's just a tunnel."

Scott nodded absently. "Yes.  But here we have a warehouse – where
we know Rogue and Jubilee taken – that seems to have very little in
it, aside from this station and a holding cell.  So where is the
military base that these guys operate out of?"

"At the end of that tunnel," Kurt replied, catching on.

"Exactly.  How much do you want to bet that wherever that goes is
where they've got Logan?"

***

Note: for info on the fic, please see the Teaser.

***

Charles Xavier looked up at his X-Men as they gathered their radio
equipment.  They had no idea what to expect and wanted to make sure
they were prepared.  "You must hurry," he said.  "I've just received
a message from Logan."

Storm and Kurt looked at each other.  Logan's dislike of telepathy
was well known; he made a point of speaking in front of Charles,
sometimes even over-articulating to get his point across.  While
many of the students took advantage of Charles' ability, often
projecting things to him when they were out, Logan always spent a
quarter on a phone call.  For him to be intentionally reaching out
to Charles could only mean one thing: he was in real trouble, and he
couldn't get out of it on his own.  They rushed to finish prepping
the car.

Scott came bounding into the room, followed by Hank, and together
they loaded medical supplies into the trunk.  Ever since Logan had
been kidnapped by Magneto, they'd made it a habit of bringing Hank
along on missions, just in case.  They finished loading the
equipment and Scott was just reaching over to close the hatch when
Charles stopped them again.  "You'll have to make a quick stop along
the way," he said.  A small smile graced his features.  "It seems
young Kitty has managed to get away, but she's gotten herself a
little lost."

***

Kitty banged her hand against the steering wheel in frustration.
She had absolutely no idea where she was.  She'd been in a panic
when she'd left the mall at Logan's bidding, running straight
through walls into the parking lot.  Her adrenaline had been pumping
so much that she'd lost control of her powers for a moment, and
she'd had to stand beside the car, frustrated and scared, willing
herself to calm down enough so that she could sit down in the
driver's seat instead of automatically phasing through it.

Finally, however, she'd regained her balance, gotten in and sped
away.  Her plan had been to get back to the highway and return
immediately to the mansion.  Unfortunately, in her haste, she'd
chosen a different ramp off the parkade than the one they'd come up
on, and ended up on an entirely different street.  Not really paying
attention, she'd continued as if she was heading in the right
direction and now she was completely turned around.  Kitty sighed.
Great, just great.  Logan, Jubilee and Rogue were probably getting
killed in the mall, and she had to call on Professor Xavier's
telepathic abilities to let him know she'd gotten *lost*.  Kitty
allowed herself one more good steering-wheel-pounding before she
drew in a deep breath and focused her attention inward, willing her
mind to settle so she could reach Xavier.

~Um, professor? ~

***

Logan was ushered into the truck, and the back hatch was immediately
covered again, so he couldn't see where he was being taken, or
whether the two girls were being taken to the same place.  He
concentrated on listening instead, memorizing the sounds around him
as they rushed by – train tracks, bumps of concrete slabs, maybe a
bridge?  A tunnel.  Other cars whizzing by at high speed – probably
the highway.   After a while, the sounds dwindled until all he could
hear was the vehicle he was in.  A deserted road then, which meant
that the other car had gone in a different direction.  Logan sighed,
turning his attention to his immediate surroundings instead.

His legs were chained to the truck bench, and he had to admit that
it was a good piece of work.  His arms were chained behind his back,
his hands twisted up towards his neck.  The chains were so tight
that the circulation was being cut off, and his fingers had gone a
little numb.  Most importantly, if he chose to extend his claws in
this position, he'd send six sharp pieces of Adamantium through the
base of his skull and into his brain.  Logan suspected he could heal
even from an injury such as that, but he knew it would take a damn
long time.

Across from him, two soldiers sat pointing their weapons directly at
his heart – again, good planning on their part.  They knew exactly
what to do to slow him down.  The commander sat up front with the
driver, and no one had said a damn thing the entire trip, which had
so far lasted the better part of an hour.  Logan wished he could
catch a glimpse outside, so he could at least figure out which
direction they were going.   He'd already projected as much
information as he had to Charles, but he knew it wasn't enough.
That was assuming the other mutant had even received the
information; Logan knew that Xavier had a hard time reading him, and
not being a telepath, Logan had no way of confirming that the
message had gotten through.

He sighed again.  He was starting to feel antsy, especially now that
he knew the girls weren't with them.  Finally, he could take it no
more, and spoke up.  "So, not exactly a man of his word, your
commander, eh?" The soldiers did not respond.  "I mean, here he
promises that if I come quietly, without protest, he'll let the
girls go.  And did I protest?  Did I resist?  Not one whit.  So
where are the girls?  Where's my proof, hmmm?  I think your
commander's gone and screwed me."

One of the soldiers spared him a dirty look.  "Commander Lyons is a
good man," he replied shortly.

Logan nodded, satisfied.  Having gotten a name out of the man, he
decided to test a theory he was working on.  "Ah, Leeson," he
replied, leaning over so he could read the dog tags sticking out of
the other man's shirt.   "That the same commander who served under
William Stryker?  And what about you?  Were you also at Alkali
Lake?"  Logan had no idea who Commander Lyons was, but he figured
that if it involved soldiers and people who didn't like mutants,
then it was probably connected to Stryker's little experiments
somewhere down the line.

The soldier nodded.  "Yes.  That's how we knew how to take you," he
sounded proud.

"Shut up," his compatriot hissed.  "You're giving away
information."  The other soldier reddened, embarrassed, and glared
at Logan.

Logan shrugged, smiling.  "Can't blame a guy for trying," he
commented lightly.  At least he had an idea of what he was up
against.  He leaned his head back against the wall of the truck and
relaxed his muscles as much as he was able.  His arms were beginning
to ache, and he really couldn't feel his fingers anymore.  Sighing
for a third time, Logan closed his eyes and focused on the road
again.  He hoped, at least, that the trip wouldn't be much longer.

***

About fifteen minutes into their trip, Jubilee had snuck her hand
into Rogue's gloved one, squeezing hard.  The Asian girl's face was
pale and her eyes were wide and frightened.  Rogue squeezed back,
suddenly realizing that she was the experienced one in this
situation.  After the Alkali Lake incident, Bobby and Rogue had both
begun training for combat, while their friends remained just
students at the school.  Ordinarily she didn't think about the
difference in their statuses too much, but now it seemed
particularly relevant.  She closed her eyes for a moment and tried
to concentrate.  What could she do now?

Mentally, she ran through her list of options.  She had already
tried to contact the Professor, but she didn't feel that whisper
against her consciousness that suggested he had heard her.  That
meant they were probably out of range – Xavier could usually
communicate with the students while they were in New York, but
beyond the city, things got a little bit fuzzy.  He had definitely
picked up on their fright in the mall, so at least he knew that
there was something going on.  Okay, that meant there would be
people looking for them.  That was good.

The back of the jeep was completely covered, so she hadn't been able
to track where they were going.  She had managed a glance out the
window as they pulled out of the parkade, and knew that they had
started off going west.  They had around so many curves since then,
however, that she really had no idea where they were going.  So much
for being able to track their movements.

Her thoughts turned to the possibility of immobilizing their
captors.  Obviously, the soldiers didn't consider two teenage girls
a big threat; they hadn't been restrained in any way.  Rogue let her
eyes wander around the jeep, strategizing.  There were two men in
the back with them, and two were riding up front.  Jubilee's
fireworks packed quite a punch, and could definitely knock out the
two guys in front of her.  That might give them enough time to jump
out the back…

Rogue sighed.  It was a good idea, except that the car was going
more than 50 miles an hour, and there was nothing to prevent the
other two men from turning around and shooting them both.  Besides,
who knew what consequences her actions might have for Logan?

Just then, the jeep whipped around a corner, slowed, and lurched to
a stop.  The passenger jumped out, and Rogue could hear his boots
crunching in the gravel as he came around the vehicle to open the
back flap.  "Get out," he commanded, and the two girls were pushed
roughly out of the jeep, landing hard on the dirt road.

Rogue blinked in the surprisingly bright afternoon sun, taking in
the sight before her.  It looked like an old warehouse, but she
recognized some very hi-tech security cameras gracing its entrance.
With a grunt, the soldiers indicated that they should walk forward.
Rogue noticed that the one walking closest to her had the keys to
the jeep dangling from his hand.  Suddenly, she saw her chance.

Subtly, she knocked Jubilee to the ground.  "Hey!" the other girl
started to protest, but Rogue shushed her.  Under the pretense of
helping the other girl back to her feet, she leaned in close to
Jubilee's ear.

"I need you to create some sparks, take out those three guards," she
whispered, moving her eyes toward the ones flanking them on the left
side.  "Don't ask, just do, okay?"  Jubilee nodded, accepting
Rogue's gloved hand to help her up.

They stood and started walking again.  Rogue was relieved to see
that none of the soldiers looked suspicious.  ~Good, ~ she thought.
~ Let them think we're just scared little girls. ~ She waited until
the one with the keys was right next to her, then pulled off her
glove and reached for his bare arm, shouting to Jubilee, "now!"

Jubilee's hands went off like…well, firecrackers.  Blinded and
burnt, the three soldiers went down.  Rogue, in the meantime, had
gotten a firm grip on the soldier beside her with one hand, and was
pulling the keys away from him with the other.   Over the last year
at the Xavier Institute, she'd learned a lot about controlling her
powers, and she was able to drain the soldier to the point of making
him pass out without letting things get out of control.  Once he was
disabled, the two girls high-tailed it back to the jeep.

Rogue jumped in the driver's seat and turned the engine over as
Jubilee slammed the passenger door.  Soldiers were beginning to pour
out of the compound now, but they were too late – Rogue hit the gas
and they peeled out of there, racing back down the road.  Beside
her, Jubilee let out a whoop of joy.  "Oh my god!" she
shouted.   "We were amazing!"   Rogue nodded in reply.  She was
pleased with their escape, of course, but she couldn't help
wondering, what was happening to Logan?

***

  Logan got his wish, because less than ten minutes after he'd gotten
the soldier to talk, the truck pulled to a stop.  "Are we there
yet?" he asked jokingly.  The soldiers glared at him in response.

"One wrong move and the girls get it," one growled at him, holding
up a portable radio.  Logan rustled his chains, indicating with a
disparaging look that he wasn't going anywhere, regardless.  The
soldier glared back, leaning forward to undo the chains around
Logan's ankles.  "Get up," he replied.

Logan stood, relishing the chance to stretch his legs, wishing they
would undo his arms as well.  At the soldier's prodding, he allowed
himself to be led outside.  The sun was very bright, just starting
to sink in the sky behind him.  He turned slowly, taking in his
surroundings and trying to orient himself.  They appeared to be in
the middle of nowhere, out in the country.  All Logan could see was
a series of rolling hills.   "Move," a voice behind him commanded,
and a push from a gun barrel reinforced the command.  Logan bit back
a growl and started walking.

***

Storm pulled up neatly behind Kitty, who had parallel-parked her car
the minute she'd realized she had no idea where she was.  The young
woman, seeing the X-Men behind her, immediately got out and rushed
over in relief.  "It's all over the news!" she exclaimed by way of
greeting.  "They're calling Logan a dangerous criminal!"  Storm
looked at her, not understanding.  With an impatient sigh, Kitty
just reached around her, leaning into the car and turning the radio
on.

It buzzed to life in the middle of a recap.  "Once again, today's
breaking news: three suspects were apprehended at Hillside Mall
today.  Officials said the three suspects were wanted in connection
to a terrorist attack against a military base in Canada eight months
ago, and were considered dangerous.  Witnesses have confirmed the
rumor that at least one of the terrorists in custody was a mutant,
and others say a fourth suspect, also a mutant, evaded capture,
apparently by running through the building's walls.  National
Security forces are searching for the fourth suspect, described as a
Caucasian woman, eighteen to twenty years old, approximately 5 foot
4 inches tall, with short brown hair.  Anyone with information on
her whereabouts is warned not to approach her, but to notify police
immediately…"  Storm flicked the radio off.

"Get back in the car, Kitty.  Drive back to the Institute, and don't
break any laws.  In fact…" she turned to the others.  "I better take
her.  That way she can keep her head down if she has to.  The last
thing we want is someone calling the police." Scott nodded, moving
up to the driver's seat.

"Be safe," he told her.  "We'll get the others back."

Storm and Kitty walked back to the other car as the X-Men sped away.

***

Logan figured he'd walked over a mile before the first building came
in sight.  It was a squat, ugly looking thing, a square cement block
surrounded by razor wire fence.  For something that didn't look like
much, though, it certainly had some pretty sophisticated security.
As they approached, Logan took in the multi-angle cameras, the
electric gates and the guard towers.  Someone had gone to a lot of
trouble to make this place impenetrable.

They led him inside and the smell of blood and dirt assaulted him
immediately.  There were so many different people in the building
that he couldn't distinguish between them.  There was no way he
could tell if Rogue and Jubilee were there, for example.  He did
smell fear though, and the stench of pain.  They marched him passed
a number of closed doors, which he quickly realized were cells.  One
of them reeked of death.  He paused beside it for a moment,
sniffing, trying to figure out if the occupant was still alive.  One
of his captors prodded him forward, and Logan couldn't contain the
growl of anger that welled up within him in response.

"Shut up, dog," the armed man muttered, pushing him inside one of
the rooms.  Instantly he was assaulted by a very familiar animal
smell.  Despite the guard's warning, Logan could not contain another
deep growl, his eyes blazing with fury.  The noise was met by a
growl in response, and Logan raised his head to see the room's other
occupant.

Sabretooth was staring at him from the corner of the room, where he
was chained to the wall.

***

Note: for intro and info, see Teaser.

***

Storm drove as quickly as she dared, Kitty slouching in the seat
beside her, and fortunately they arrived at the Xavier Institute
without incident.  Charles met them at the door.  "We may have a
serious problem," he said by way of greeting.

Storm quirked an eyebrow at him.  "You mean, beyond the fact that
Logan has been captured by people who obviously mean him harm –
again?" She replied.  Charles didn't even grant her a ghost of a
smile, and she immediately sobered up. "What's happened?"

"Do you remember the incident at Bobby Drake's home in Boston?"

"Of course.  Pyro blew up four police cars.  How could I forget?"

"Well, unfortunately, there were other consequences aside from the
loss of vehicles that day.   When the police questioned Bobby's
parents, they said that he'd identified Logan as a teacher at this
school. Somehow some reporter got wind of this, and after what
happened in the mall today, he put two and two together…" Charles'
voice trailed away at the implication.

Storm's hand flew to her mouth.  "Oh my god.  What's going to happen
to the school?"

Charles looked at her somberly.  "I've just received a phone call
from the Ministry of Education.  They will be conducting a thorough
investigation.  Storm – if they find out what kind of school this
*really* is… they could do a lot worse than shut us down."

Kitty had been observing the conversation quietly, but at the last
statement she finally spoke up.  "What?  How could they?  There's no
law against having a school for mutants!"  Her face flushed with
indignation.

"No," Storm replied gently.  "But there is a law against harboring
criminals.  And in the eyes of the officials, that's exactly what
Logan is."

Kitty swallowed against the heavy realization.  "And me," she
replied, her eyes wide.

Storm's eyes filled with compassion, but she wouldn't deny the
truth.  "And you," she affirmed.

***

"I think that we've lost them.  You can probably slow down now,"
Jubilee commented after quite some time had passed.  Wherever they
had been, they were now back on the highway, rushing back toward
Westchester at breakneck speed.

"We have to get back to the professor," Rogue replied distractedly,
her eyes on the road.  "Logan is in serious trouble."

"He seems to have a knack for it," Jubilee replied.  Rogue looked at
her sharply.

"He saved my life!" she exclaimed.  "And he was there for *everyone*
after Dr. Grey died, and he helped rebuild the school.  He's only
gotten into trouble once where he needed help.  He's even doing
better than you."

Jubilee flushed, both angry and guilty.  Although it had been nearly
a year, she still clearly remembered the helplessness and fear that
had overwhelmed her when Stryker's men had kidnapped her and five
other children, taking them to Alkali Lake and imprisoning them deep
beneath the dam.  "I'm sorry," she replied after a moment.

"Me too." Rogue spared her a quick smile before returning her eyes
to the highway.  A glint of metal caught her eye, speeding past them
in the other direction.  "Hey," she said, sitting up a little
straighter, and even risking a quick glance behind her.  "Wasn't
that Scott's car?"

***

Scott, Hank and Kurt headed down the highway, operating on the best
information they had.  Charles had managed to get a lock on Rogue
and Jubilee, and pinpointed their location.  They had driven east
for nearly 100 miles and then stopped briefly, before turning
directly around and driving back west.  They had no idea what was
going on, but they figured that whatever the soldier had planned,
they had to have stopped for something.  The three men were
therefore heading toward the location where the girls had turned
around.

Scott glanced over at his fellow X-Men.  Kurt had fallen asleep in
the back seat, as he always did.  Car travel seemed to do that to
him.  Hank was awake, but he had been sitting very quietly for the
duration of the ride.  "What's on your mind?" he asked.

Hank started, as though he'd forgotten he wasn't alone.  "Oh!" he
exclaimed, placing one hand to his heart.  "I was lost in thought."

"I see that.  What were you thinking about?"

"Scientific experiments."  Hank's voice was very soft, and tinged
with remorse.   Scott took a longer look at his friend.

"Hank?" he queried.  The big man sighed.

"Before I came to the school, I was a scientist," he
said.  "Primarily, I was engaged in the study of human genes.  I
wanted to understand how mutations worked – why is it that there are
so many mutants, but such little repetition of mutant abilities?
Nature works by repetition, generally.  Every cell contains all of
our DNA.  Our genetic make up is thus repeated over and over again,
thousands of cells, exactly the same.  But how many other big furry
blue beasts do you know?  Or men who shoot death rays out of their
eyes?"

"It's a puzzling question," Scott agreed, not entirely sure where
the conversation was going.

"But that's precisely the point – I approach it as a puzzle,
something to figure out.  How am I any different from the men who
experimented on Logan?"

Scott was shocked.  "How could you even compare yourself to them?"
he exclaimed.  "They – they were butchers.  They cut him up and
tried to turn him into a machine.  That's not science, Hank.  It's
sadism."

"But I would have done the same, if Kurt had not pointed out to me
that Logan was uncomfortable with the idea.  Before I came to the
Institute, I never even thought twice about the consequences of my
research."

"The Institute has that effect on people," Kurt offered from the
back seat.  He sat up, yawning, having woken up from his doze when
he heard his name.

Hank twisted to look back at the blue man.  "What do you mean?"

Kurt shrugged.  "Before I came to the Institute, it never occurred
to me that I shouldn't spend my whole life hiding away from all
people.  Now I couldn't imagine living without my friends, but only
a few short years ago I believed I needed no one."  He gazed out the
window, lost in thought.  "It is a place that changes you, my
friend – huh?"

"What is it?" Scott had been nodding along with Kurt's commentary,
but kept his eyes on the road.

"I must be more tired than I realized," Kurt replied.  "I could have
sworn I just saw young Rogue drive by us in an army jeep."

***

Finally his hands had been released, but Logan only had a brief
respite in which to restore his circulation before the soldiers were
securing them against the wall by his sides and he was trussed up
just like Sabretooth.  The other mutant snarled at him from a few
feet away.  "Should have figured they'd catch you, runt.  You're too
short to get away."

"Yeah, well, obviously your height advantage was counterbalanced by
your stupidity, Bub," Logan shot back.

Sabretooth pulled his lips back in a snarl, revealing his fang-like
teeth.  "They caught me by surprise," he defended, eyes narrowed.

Logan just shook his head.  There was just something about
Sabretooth that made his blood boil, but he couldn't put his finger
on it, and he couldn't afford to lose his temper.  Right now,
Sabretooth was the closest thing to an ally that he had, and he had
to get out of wherever they were so he could make sure the girls
were safe.  Logan took a deep breath to calm himself, and then
asked, "How long have you been here?"

Sabretooth regarded him suspiciously.  "Why do you want to know?"

Logan bit his tongue to keep from lashing out.  "I'm only trying to
find out what you know about this place, so we can start figurin' a
way outta here."

The other man let out a short, mirthless laugh.  "Ha!  Don't you
think that if there was a way out of here, I'd have found it
already?"

Logan sighed.  "I'm just saying that maybe between the two of us,
we'll be able to figure it out."  Sabretooth offered no
reply.  "Look, Bub," Logan finally snapped, "*I* will be leaving,
and you can either help – and come – or stay chained to this wall
until they decide how they want to kill you."

There was silence from the other end of the room, and then
Sabretooth replied, very quietly, "That's not what they're planning
to do, Logan."

Logan felt a sudden chill wash over him.  "What do you mean?"

"You really don't remember."  It was a statement, not a question.

The words hit Logan like sledgehammers. "What are you talking
about?"  Logan twisted in his bonds, trying to get a better look at
Sabretooth's face, desperate for information.  "What do you know
about me?"

Sabretooth let out a dark little laugh.  "More than you could
imagine."

***

Storm sank into a chair in the staff room, feeling wrung out.  Kitty
had gone up to her room to rest and Charles had suggested a cup of
tea, but Storm's mug sat unattended in front of her.  "Charles."
She picked up her tea, stared at it mindlessly and put it back down
again.  "What are we going to do?  You know as well as I do what
will happen if they send someone out here to investigate.  Mutant
schools might not be against the law, but they're hardly going to
tolerate it.  Once they know what we're doing here, they'll use any
excuse to shut us down!"

Charles had regained some of his usual calm, but his eyes were
fiercely determined.  "Then we will have to ensure that we give them
absolutely no reason to find our establishment suspect," he replied.

"But what about Logan?" She exclaimed.  "Just his presence makes us
suspect."

"I'm aware of that, Ororo."

The use of her given name gave Storm pause.  She looked up at
Charles with shocked eyes as the implication of his statement sunk
in.  "You're suggesting we kick Logan out of the mansion?  He has
nowhere to go.  We'd be condemning him to the life of a fugitive."

"I'm merely saying that it is important that it appear that Logan
never taught here – indeed, that he only stayed here for a very
short while, when Rogue first joined us.  I believe that the
incident at Bobby's house can be smoothed over, especially if he is
willing to say that he lied to his parents about Logan's status at
the school."

"And what about the girls?" Storm pressed.  She didn't like the
direction this was going at all.

Charles sighed.  "Rogue and Jubilee are out of our hands now.  If by
some grace they are returned to us, then hopefully they have not
revealed their powers, and we can convince the authorities that they
were simply in the wrong place at the wrong time.  Kitty, however…"
he trailed off.

"They saw her walk through walls," Storm finished grimly.  "We can't
just send her on her way, Charles.  Logan can take care of himself;
he's done it for years.  But Kitty's just a girl!"

"We won't be sending anyone on their way, Storm.  I promise you
that.  But we do need to consider how we are going to handle this
inspection visit.  We have to be very careful.  And Kitty is going
to have to go somewhere else – somewhere safe – until we are no
longer under suspicion."

"But where?"

"I think I know a place.  First things first, though – you and I are
currently the only teachers here, and we need to have a school
meeting."  Charles rolled toward the door.  Storm squared her
shoulders and followed.

***

Rogue and Jubilee managed to get about eight miles further along
before Rogue suddenly pulled over to the side of the road, slamming
on the brakes.  "Uh, everything okay?" Jubilee asked, eyeing the
other girl as though she'd grown a new head.

Rogue threw her hands up in frustration.  "No!" she exclaimed.  "No,
everything is not okay!  Logan is there, with those soldiers, going
through God-knows-what because he thinks that we're in danger – and
we're not!  And I swear that was Scott speeding past us… heading
right to where we just got out of!"

Jubilee nodded.  "Uh-huh.  And?"

"And?!" Rogue's voice jumped a notch and Jubilee winced.  "They're
headed that way because they're looking for us!  Professor Xavier
must have been able to locate us using Cerebro.  But we're not there
anymore!"

"Um… but the Professor would know that, Rogue.  You said we had to
get back to the mansion."

Jubilee's logic only stopped Rogue for a moment.  "Well, it doesn't
matter.  The point is that Logan's in trouble, and he needs our
help.  We're going back there."  She wrenched the jeep around
furiously, laying rubber as she sped across the lanes over to the
other side of the highway.  Jubilee clutched at the armrest and
tried not to fly into the dashboard.

"Umm… do I get a say in this?" she asked.   Rogue whipped around her
in her seat to glare at the other girl with a ferocity Jubilee had
never seen in her friend.  At the same time, the jeep weaved
dangerously in the lane.  "Never mind," she finished in a small
voice.  "Just please – watch the road."

***

Note: for intro and info, please see Teaser

***

Scott and Hank led the last of the prisoners back to the mouth of
the tunnel, where they found Rogue and Jubilee waiting for them.  "I
ran into Mr. Wagner and Rogue in the hallway," Jubilee
explained.  "He told us to stay here to wait for you.  He's bringing
all the people we found back to the other building."

"Good, my thoughts exactly," Scott replied.  "Hank, you and the
girls take the rest of these folks back as well.  I'm going back to
help Logan."

"Right." Hank gestured at Rogue and Jubilee to lead the way,
following once all the prisoners were in the tunnel.  He paused at
the entrance and looked back.  "Scott," he said quietly, "be
careful."

***

"Put him down," Logan growled, his eyes fixed on Bobby's thrashing
form.  The young man was running out of air and Logan knew it.

"Make me," Sabretooth replied.  He held Bobby between himself and
Logan like a shield.  No matter which way Logan tried to approach
the other man, Bobby ended up in the way.

Behind him, Kitty was crying softly, still kneeling on the ground
where she had fallen.  "I'm so sorry," she whispered.  "I didn't
realize the wall was so thick.  It took so much effort to get us
both through…oh god, we were only trying to help…"

The sound of her weeping coupled with Bobby gasping for breath
overpowered Logan's hearing.  He could smell their fear; he could
practically taste it.  These were children in his care and they were
terrified and in danger, and he had to do something to protect
them.  Unbidden, Logan felt a deep rage stirring in his belly.  "Put
him down," he reiterated through clenched teeth.  Sabretooth only
laughed.

With a roar, Wolverine launched himself at the other man, ducking
low at the last instant and swiping between Bobby's dangling legs at
Sabretooth's knees.  The large man went down with a roar, dropping
Bobby in the process.  Wolverine picked the boy up by his jacket and
threw him backwards towards Kitty.  His claws were already red with
his enemy's blood.  Cold-eyed, he advanced on the wounded man.
Sabretooth was struggling to get to his feet; his left knee torn to
shreds and unable to support his weight. Snarling, the big cat
lashed out at Wolverine, drawing blood of his own.  The smaller man
ignored it; he could barely even feel the pain.  Letting loose
another roar, he leapt upon Sabretooth, his claws bearing down with
impossible speed, again and again and again…

At last, Logan sat back, panting.  He gradually became aware of his
surroundings, hearing once more Kitty's soft cries.  He stumbled
back from the body of his enemy, now limp and lifeless, and sat down
hard on the cement floor.  Bringing his hands in front of him, he
stared at the silver claws, dripping with blood, that protruded from
his hands.

"Is – is he dead?" Bobby asked, voice quavering.  This was the
second time that Bobby had seen Logan in full rage mode.  When
Stryker's soldiers had attacked the school, he'd been petrified of
Logan's reaction, despite the fact that the older man had saved his
life.   It wasn't any easier to accept this time around.

Logan's head snapped back at the sound of the younger man's voice.
He stared soullessly at the two teens for a moment before his eyes
showed any hint that he'd understood what Bobby was asking.  Moving
in slow motion, he retracted his claws and stood up, leaning over
the body.

Well, leaning over what was left of the body.  Sabretooth was little
more than a mass of blood and fur now, hacked to pieces, practically
unrecognizable.  Logan used his body to shield the children from the
sight.  "Yeah," he replied in a low voice.  "He's dead."  He turned,
still careful to stay between the kids and the dead man.  "Let's
go."  He ushered Kitty and Bobby out before him.

In the doorway, he paused and took one last glance
back.  `Sabretooth isn't getting up from this fight', he thought
grimly.  For a moment, he contemplated thinking about the
implications of that – the knowledge that Sabretooth had taken to
his death – but it was too much.  Grimacing, he turned away for
good.

***

Scott caught up to them as they rounded a corner.  "Is everything
all right?"  he asked, a bit breathless.

"It's fine," Logan replied shortly, not even slowing down.  "Where's
Hank?"

"Hank, Rogue, and Jubilee took the last of the prisoners down –
there's a tunnel that connects to another building.  It's secure."

"You found Rogue and Jubilee?" Logan sounded relieved.

"Well… more like they found us.  Long story.  What are Kitty and
Bobby doing here?"

"I don't know.  Why don't you ask them?"  Without a backward glance,
Logan stalked off in the direction Scott had indicated.  Kitty and
Bobby trailed in his wake.

"Hold it."  Scott's voice brooked no argument.  "What the hell
happened here?  What are you doing here?"  Kitty looked at the
floor, her face pale, and refused to speak.  "That isn't a
rhetorical question," Scott continued angrily.

Finally Bobby spoke up.  "We came to help.  We came to find Rogue."

"You're trying to tell me that Professor Xavier just let you come
out here?"

"The Professor thinks I'm driving Kitty to Boston." Bobby shrugged
at Scott's bewildered look.  "Apparently there's some investigation
by the Ministry of Education because of the big scene at the mall."
He gestured vaguely at the girl beside him.  "People saw Kitty walk
through walls, so she has to hide at the church where Mr. Wagner
used to live until it's all figured out.  Rogue, Jubilee and Logan
have to go, too."

Scott stared at Bobby wordlessly, his mind racing.  Something had
obviously happened with Logan and he probably needed to get back to
the mansion, where he would be safe.  And these people needed help.
But if the school was under investigation, it was the last place a
man with laser eyes, a furry blue doctor and a teleporter with a
tail should be showing up, especially with thirty-odd freed mutant
prisoners in tow.

"We're all going to Boston," he decided out loud.  "We've got to
stay as far away from the school as possible.  Let's go."

***

Charles Xavier suddenly looked up from his tea, his eyes somewhat
unfocused.

"What is it?  Is it Logan?" Storm half stood from her seat, her eyes
locked on the man across from her.

"No," he replied and she sat back down disappointed.  "It's the
Ministry of Education.  They're on their way."

***

Storm smoothed her skirt across her knees nervously.  In the thirty-
five minutes that had passed between the moment Charles had first
sensed the Ministry investigators on their way and now, she'd been
caught in a whirlwind of activity.  First, she'd had to find a safe
place for all the students whose mutations couldn't be hidden.  Then
there was the matter of ensuring that the Danger Room, the jet
hangar and Cerebro were inaccessible to even the most snoopy of
visitors.  Additionally,  she'd done a sweep of every room in the
house to make sure no one had left anything incriminating lying
about.  Finally, she'd lectured the kids one last time on the
importance of acting normally.

Now she was sitting in the staff room pretending to read a magazine,
her cup of coffee sitting untouched on the table beside her.  Storm
sighed.  She'd grown up in a small African village, where once her
power had manifested she'd been worshipped as a goddess.  When she
came to America, she'd been homeless, living as a thief, until
Charles had found her.  Then she became a mutant student, and then
an X Man.  What did she know about being normal?  She straightened
her skirt again.  How could she possibly pull this off?

Storm was so lost in her own fears and worries that the doorbell
made her jump.  Above the sound of her heart suddenly pounding, she
heard one of the students get up to answer it.  Muted voices
exchanged words in the foyer and William appeared at the staff room
doorway, saying, "Ms. Munroe?  Some people from the Ministry of
Education are here."

"Thank you, William," she replied, standing up and smoothing her
skirt down one last time.  She walked toward the main entrance as
though on automatic.  William had sounded so natural.  He hadn't
slipped up and said `they're here' as though the investigators had
been expected.  He hadn't looked frightened or nervous at all.
Storm, on the other hand, felt as though she might faint or throw up
at any moment.

Turning the corner and entering the foyer, she plastered a smile on
her face.  "Good afternoon," she said, injecting her voice with as
much surprised pleasantness as she could muster.  "My name is Ororo
Munroe. I'm the History teacher here at Xavier's School for the
Gifted.  How can I help you?"

***

The first half of the visit seemed to go very well.  Storm
introduced the four solemn Ministry investigators to the students
who were lounging in the recreation room, sending William off to get
Professor Xavier while she made small talk about the mansion's
history and architecture.  Charles arrived in record time,
apologizing that their other teachers were absent.  "They've taken a
few of the older students to Boston for the day," he explained as he
wheeled in front of the small group, taking over as tour guide.  "We
do try to give our students as many opportunities as possible for
unique educational experiences."

Together, Storm and Charles showed the investigators the different
classrooms, describing the curriculum and assessments they
used.  "Everything is state approved, of course," Storm added as
they left her classroom, "but we do adapt the assessment tools.  We
give the students a bit more freedom to write essays and the like
instead of responding to standardized tests.  Because we have so few
students, we find the extra marking isn't a burden to us."

The students were as good as you please, polite and out of the way.
One of the investigators wandered away from the group and back to
recreation room, where she began chatting informally with the
students gathered there.  Charles listened in with his telepathic
powers and was pleased to hear his children acting like regular
children – they were happy, chatty and enthusiastic, but not
abnormal.  He listened as one girl, Claire, gushed about going to
see the movie Troy, and how, yeah, sure it was cool to see because
of the story but also did you see Brad Pitt?  He was wearing
practically nothing the whole time!  The Ministry investigator
laughed genuinely, and Charles smiled.  Beside him, Storm noticed
his smile and visibly relaxed.

After the tour and the informal interviews with the students, the
investigators retired with Charles to his office, where he reviewed
the school policies and financial situation with them.  They emerged
half an hour later looking generally satisfied.  "Professors," one
of them said, shaking their hands one after the other, "thank you
for your time.  We are greatly impressed with your facilities, and I
have no doubt that our report will lay to rest any questions that
the Ministry might have."

"Thank you very much for coming," Charles responded in kind.

They were almost clear, with no accidents, and they would have made
it, too, if Candace, one of the students, hadn't chosen that exact
moment to come running down the stairs shouting, "Ms. Munroe! Ms.
Munroe!  Ryan said that he was going to put frogs in my gym clothes
and he meant it…" her rant trailed off into a wordless shriek as the
girl lost her footing and went tumbling down the stairs.

Storm felt as though she might shriek also.  Her gasp of shock at
the possibility of a student falling and cracking her head open was
replaced by a sudden stillness as Candace thrust her arms out to her
sides, flipped over the in the air and hovered for a moment before
gracefully floating to the bottom of the stairs.  Just as she was
putting her feet back on the ground, she looked up – and met the
eyes of one of the investigators.  He cocked his head to one side
and looked pointedly at the six inches of empty space between
Candace's feet and the ground.

Storm felt her heart pounding as the moment of stillness ended and
the reality of what she'd just witnessed came crashing into her.  It
was over, oh God, it was all over.  They knew that they were all
mutants – how could they not, after such a display? They'd shut down
the school for sure.   Beside her, she felt Charles stiffen, and she
could tell that he was debating whether to use his telepathic powers
to manipulate the man into believing he hadn't seen what Candace had
done.  Candace herself looked as though she was going to cry.  She
slowly set herself down and stared at her now firmly planted feet.

Storm looked anxiously up at the man, who had turned from Candace to
regard the teachers with that same piercing stare.  Just as she was
about to open her mouth to plead, he winked at her.

"Well," he said, "gifted or not, it sounds like boys will be boys."
He looked back to Candace and smiled conspiratorially.  "You know, I
bet if Ryan ever found frogs in his gym shorts, he'd never, ever do
it again."  Candace looked up at him in shock, barely able to
smile.  He winked at her, too, then raised a hand in farewell as he
hurried to catch up with his work colleagues, who had already exited
the building.  Just as he was slipping through the door, his lifted
hand began to shimmer.  It turned a pearly white color for just a
moment, and then disappeared.  It was as though his hand never
existed.  After a moment, it rematerialized, settling back into its
natural color as he lowered it and left the building, catching up to
the others as they approached the car.

Everyone in the room sighed and visibly relaxed.  Storm hurried over
to Candace's side and engulfed her in a big hug, too relieved to
even think about scolding her.  "That was a lucky break!" she
exclaimed to no one in particular.

"Does that mean everything's okay, then, Ms. Munroe?" Candace asked
as the teacher released her.

"Yes, I think things will be all right," she replied, smiling.

"So that means that Logan and the others can come home now?"

Storm's smile faded.  She looked over at Charles and saw him shaking
his head mournfully.

"No," he replied softly.  "It's far too dangerous.  We might have
passed the inspection, but I have no doubt that the Ministry of
Education will keep us under closer scrutiny than we have had to
endure before.  We simply can't risk them being spotted by anyone."

A low protest rose around the room, as the students voiced their
opinion about how unfair the situation was.  Storm raised a hand to
silence them.  "I know, I know," she sympathized, "but this is the
safest way.  It's only temporary."  That seemed to pacify the
students, and they gradually drifted off to their own affairs.  When
the room had cleared, Storm looked over at Charles, anxiety obvious
in her face.  "It will be temporary, right?  This anti-mutant
sentiment will die down again?"

Charles didn't smile reassuringly at her, which was troubling.  "I
hope so," he replied in his soft tone.  "I pray it's so."

***

Note: For intro and info, please see Teaser

***

The pain was easing off, thankfully.  Logan felt it lessen by
degrees, until he was able to breath again.  Soon he found he could
straighten up with very little pain at all.  He glanced down and saw
a small, circular piece of metal at his feet – the Adamantium that
had dripped out of him had hardened as soon as it cooled.  There was
less than a pound there, for all that pain.  "Hmm," he said,
regarding it.  "Doesn't look like it's working that great after
all."  Sabretooth said nothing in reply.  Logan raised his eyebrows
at the other man.  "So, you were saying about a team?"

Sabretooth opened his mouth to reply, but whether it was to tell him
to go screw himself, or to give up the information he so desperately
wanted, Logan would never know.   Just then, a stream of guards came
pouring into the room.  Sergeant Leeson was among them.

"Hey, Leeson, old buddy, how's it going?" Logan was feeling quite
jovial now.  Pain was just pain; it was over and he was still
alive.

The soldier came over to him and regarded the metal at his feet.
After a moment, he reached down and picked it up.  "Well, it's a
start, anyway," he murmured, ignoring Logan's question.  Leeson
turned to the men behind him.  "Take that one," he ordered,
indicating Sabretooth, "to the Programming Centre.  You, take this
to Commander Lyons."  He handed one of the guards the shard of
Adamantium.  "You – tell Dr. White that we're going to need more of
the serum.  The mutant's healing factors seem to be counteracting
its effects – we may need to try a larger dose."  With that, he
turned on his heel.  Sabretooth was neatly trustled up and forced
out of the room behind him.

"What, I don't even get a goodbye kiss?" Logan called
sarcastically.  The last soldier to leave was the one with the
Adamantium in his hand.  He stopped at the door and walked back to
Logan at the smart remark.

The man raised the metal in his hand and brought it crashing down
against Logan's nose.  It broke with a wet crunch.  "Goodbye," the
soldier replied, smiling as he walked out the door.

Logan was left there, chained to the wall, with blood running down
his chin.  "God damn," he said to nobody.   The room seemed awfully
quiet without Sabretooth around.  Logan suppressed a shudder at the
though of what might be coming; the memory of silver dripping out of
his hands hadn't quite let him go yet.  He twisted in his chains,
but was still locked up too tight to move.  Finally, he surrendered
and leaned his head against the wall.  ~Please, Chuck, ~ he thought,
~tell me the Calvary's coming. ~

***

"The Calvary's coming," Charles said suddenly.

Storm looked at him like he'd just grown another head.  "Pardon me?"
she replied.

Charles shook his head as though trying to clear it.  He looked up
at her and smiled faintly.  "I'm sorry, my dear.  I didn't mean to
startle you.  I think I just picked up a projection from Logan."

Storm leaned forward, excited.  "Really? Is he all right?  Can you
pinpoint his location?"

Charles shook his head again.  "It was just a passing thought," he
said, somewhat apologetic.  "Logan is incredibly difficult for me to
read.  But I'm certain it was him, which means that he is alive, at
least."

Storm nodded, thinking. "The Calvary's coming," she
repeated.  "Maybe Scott and the others have found him."

"I don't think so.  I can read Scott fairly well, and I think I'd
pick up on that.  But I should check Cerebro, to see how they're
making out."  Just then Bobby and Kitty walked into the room.

"Okay, I think we're all set," Bobby announced.  He was to take
Kitty into Boston, to the church where Kurt had once taken refuge.
It was all but abandoned; only one old priest remained in residence
and he was quite sympathetic.  He had told Kurt that if they ever
needed a place of refuge, `God's doors were always open to them.'
Bobby just hoped that Professor Xavier wouldn't track them right
away from Cerebro, because he'd be caught out if the Professor did.

Charles looked up at Bobby sharply, and the young man realized that
the telepath must have caught a glimpse of what he was planning.  He
felt a gentle tugging in his mind and knew that Xavier was trying to
get more information, so he took a deep breath and concentrated as
hard as he could on Ms. Munroe's tits.  Professor Xavier's eyes
widened slightly and he looked away.  Bobby suppressed a little
smile.

"Good," Professor Xavier replied at length.  "Drive straight there,
no detours."  Bobby nodded, and the two youths left the room.

"What was all that about?" Storm asked as soon as they were gone.

To her surprise, Charles wouldn't meet her eyes.  "Don't ask," he
replied.  "You don't want to know."

***

"Bobby, where are we going?" Kitty asked as Bobby turned off the
highway onto a secondary road.  "This isn't the way to Boston."

"I know that," Bobby replied.  He stopped the car and pulled
over.  "Look, Kitty, if you really want me to drive you to Boston,
I'll drive you to Boston.  But Rogue is out there and she needs our
help - and Jubilee too.  These are our friends, Kitty.  We need to
help them."

Kitty regarded him carefully.  "Professor Xavier said to go straight
to Boston," she replied.  "And right now, you're not a wanted
criminal.  I am.  What if we get stopped by the police?"

"I'll be really careful.  I'll do the speed limit the whole way,"
Bobby promised.  "Kitty, please.  We aren't little kids anymore.  I
have to go find Rogue."

Kitty tapped her fingers against the arm rest indecisively.  "What
makes you think you can even find them?" she asked.

Bobby grinned.  "You know how Logan's been showing us a few tricks
of the trade?" he asked.  She nodded and he continued.  "Well, one
day I caught him sneaking into Professor Xavier's files.  He never
told me what he was doing, but I told him I'd tell the Professor
unless he taught me how to pick locks like he could."

"Logan taught you that?" Kitty was scandalized.

"Yeah, well, don't get him in trouble, okay?  Anyway, I snuck into
Professor Xavier's office while you were packing, and I found
this."  He handed her a map of New York, with a red circle drawn
around a patch of empty space about two hours North of where they
currently were.

"That could be anything," she pointed out.

Bobby sighed.  "I know.  But I have a gut feeling about this, okay?
Kitty, we're powerful people – we can help them.  Whaddya say?"

Kitty sighed again.  She knew that she should say no and make Bobby
drive her to Boston like he was supposed to.  She knew she should
also contact the professor and let him know what Bobby was
planning.  At the same time, though, she felt guilty as sin because
she'd been able to escape at the mall and none of the others had.
Plus she was worried sick about her friends.  ~Ah, to hell with it,
~ she thought.  "All right," she said out loud, "let's go."

Bobby let out a war whoop.  "Now that's what I'm talking about!" he
exclaimed.  He put the pedal to the metal, and they were off.

***

The tunnel was narrow but fairly well lit.  With the exception of a
few twists and turns, it went pretty much straight East, cutting a
swath through the countryside.  Scott kept one hand on his visor,
fully expecting a hoard of guards to cut them off at every corner,
but no one appeared.  "It doesn't feel right," he said for the third
time. "They had state of the art cameras all around that warehouse.
They *must* be watching this tunnel."

Kurt smiled sympathetically.  Scott took his duties as team leader
very seriously and he'd yet to see the younger man take risks
willingly, especially when other people's lives were at stake.
However, there was a point at which his caution crossed a line into
worrying.  "You are probably right, my friend, but it does not make
sense for them to try to attack us in the tunnel.  The quarters are
too close, and if they are watching us, they know what we are able
to do."

"No, they'll be waiting for us on the other side instead," Hank
agreed grimly.

"So what do we do?" Rogue spoke up from behind the three men, where
she and Jubilee had been following.

Scott shrugged.  "Classic attack formation, I guess," he
replied.  "Jubilee, get up here in the front with Hank and myself.
Kurt, your job is to grab people strategically and teleport them
back to Rogue.  The rest of us will go on the offensive.  Once we're
in, we'll split into teams and try to locate Logan.  Kurt and Rogue,
Jubilee and Hank, and myself.  Questions?"  No one had any.  "Good,
let's stay sharp."

They arranged themselves as Scott had ordered and crept forward.  A
different kind of light was beginning to fill the hallway; looking
up, they could see that the tunnel ended in a set of double-planed
glass doors, behind which were a half a dozen soldiers, guns cocked
and ready.

"Ready?" Scott murmured.  The others nodded.  "Go!" With a single
blast, he demolished the doors.  In a flash, Kurt had teleported to
the soldiers' sides, grabbing the two closest to the X-Men and
teleporting them back to Rogue.  Jubilee set off some impressive
sparks, forcing the others backwards, and Hank followed closely
behind her, bashing heads and throwing bodies with all his bestial
strength.

For a while, the soldiers kept coming, and they kept taking them out
according to their strategy.  After a while, there were no more
soldiers.  "See, that's just not right," Scott said again, shaking
his head.  "That just seems too easy."

"Maybe we're just that good," Jubilee replied, emboldened by her
success.

"Or maybe we're being set up," Kurt replied, looking around slowly.

Beside him, Hank tested the air.  "There are a lot of people here,"
he observed.  "We should proceed with caution."

"I agree.  Stay out of sight as much as possible.  Do not engage
with the enemy unless you're forced to.  The minute you find Logan,
signal the rest of us your radios and stay put until we get to you.
Let's move."  They split into their teams and slipped away.

***

Logan knew what to expect this time and was better able to brace
himself for the pain, but it was still a shock to see the Adamantium
begin to leak out of him, dripping down to form a pool by his feet.
He felt like he was burning up from the inside and he was pretty
sure that his mutant healing powers were having trouble keeping up
this time.  They'd given him a bigger dose of whatever nasty
chemical was heating his bones to the point that the metal melted,
and the process seemed to be working faster, which meant he'd lose
more metal before his healing powers kicked in than he did before.

Still, he didn't think he would lose enough to make much of a
difference to his overall functioning, even with the larger dose.
If they intended to get all the metal out of his body, he figured it
was going to take a few more treatments than he'd received so far.
What he didn't understand is why they didn't just kill him, cut him
open, and boil the Adamantium off his bones then.  Obviously they
wanted him alive for something.

His mind drifted off, pondering the vague comments Sabretooth had
made regarding Logan's past.  It had of course occurred to him that
there might be more mutants out there that Stryker had manipulated,
but he'd continue to hold on to the idea that he was somehow
special – the ultimate weapon.  Sabretooth, however, had mentioned
something about a team.  The idea whispered inside his head the way
that almost-memories often did.  There was something lying just out
of reach in his subconscious - something that had once been
significant and meaningful in his life.

Logan sighed.  There was no point in trying to chase the thought
down; it would only disappear.  He brought his attention back to his
hands, and was pleased to see that he'd healed up once more.  A
chunk of metal about the size of his fist was hardening on the
ground beside him.  Idly, Logan wondered at what point the loss was
going to affect him.  He checked in with his body, scanning himself
from head to toe.  He felt the same, though he had no way to check
and see if his claws were okay except to release them, and the way
in which his hands were tied meant that to do so would be to stab
himself in the thighs.   He considered it – was it worth the
knowledge?

Immediately after thinking that, Logan cursed himself.  He'd been so
distracted by Sabretooth's presence that he hadn't even been
thinking about escape.  With his hands tied at his sides, he wasn't
in danger of stabbing any important organs if he released his
claws.  Sure, stabbing himself in the meaty muscle of his thighs
would hurt, but it would also heal – and he would be free.

Snarling against the expected pain, Logan let his claws come out.

***

"Uh, Bobby, don't you think you should slow down a little?" Kitty
asked, her eyes glued to the speedometer.  Bobby was putting the
speed limit to shame, racing down the road in the little black car
like he was on a race track instead of the highway.

He didn't take his eyes off the road.  "Nope," he replied, pushing a
little bit more speed out of the engine.

"It's just that we're going… really, really fast."

"Yep."

"Bobby…" Kitty sounded like she was somewhere between crying and
throwing up.

"Look, Kitty, it's like this.  They have *Rogue*.  Out of all the
people in the whole world, mutant or otherwise, that those bastards
could have got their hands on, they took Rogue.  I can't sit around
and do nothing and I can't spend two hours driving when she's in
trouble *now*.  I have to get there, okay?  Just, please, sit back
and shut - um, be quiet."  Bobby's face was dark and hard.

Kitty sat back and closed her mouth, shocked.  She'd never heard
Bobby talk like that, and especially not to her.  They'd been fairly
good friends before Rogue had come along, and even now they remained
pretty close, although Bobby spent most of his time with the other
girl.  She took a good look at him and saw the worry underneath the
machismo.  Bobby was terrified of losing his girl, she
realized.  "Okay," she said quietly.  She reached over and patted
Bobby's shoulder.  "Go on, then."

Wordlessly, Bobby pushed the gas pedal down as far as it would go,
and the car leapt forward even faster than before.

***

Hank crept up the dark hall, his superior eyes piercing the dim
light before him.  He could smell people all around him, their
scents tinged with fear, but there was almost no trace of the
metallic stench of guns.  Prisoners, then, not soldiers.  Hank
suppressed the growl that was building in his throat.

Up ahead, he could see a faint light shining from around a corner.
Cautiously, he worked his way up to it, sniffing the air as he slid
around the bend, trying to stay in the shadow.   Florescent lights
lit up a small station before him, a lonely desk surrounded by
security monitors.  One very bored looking soldier sat slumped with
his elbows on the desk, resting his head on his hands.

Hank smiled.  `Lucky me,' he thought, crouching low as he
approached.  The soldier glanced up as he heard Hank's approaching
footsteps, but before he had the time to react, Hank had lifted him
up and out of his chair and punched him hard enough to knock the
guard unconscious.  "Well, that was easy," he remarked, dusting off
his hands.  The chair creaked under his great weight as he sat down
to examine the monitors.  "So what do we have here?"

***

Scott's head shot up at the loud clanging noise.  Instinctively he
pushed Jubilee behind him, his hand flying to his visor.

"What?" the girl exclaimed, indignant at being shoved aside.

"Shush," he hissed back, scanning the hallway.  He could perceive no
immediate threat, but something in the periphery of his vision
caught his attention.  He whirled around, prepared to send a blast
of light toward the attacker, only to be caught completely off guard
by a child, no more than 14 years old, who upon seeing him fell back
against the wall and began sobbing.

"Please, I'll be good, I'll go back to my room, don't hurt me!" she
wailed.  Scott stared, shocked.

It was Jubilee that moved into action, pushing past her teacher to
kneel beside the younger girl.  "It's okay," she whispered.  "We're
friends.  Were you – were you a prisoner here?"  The girl nodded.

"They wanted to know what made me work," she replied.  "they did all
these tests on me…" she shuddered and collapsed against Jubilee,
sobbing.

"It's okay, you don't have to talk about it.  We'll get you out of
here, come on."  She helped the girl stand, looking up at Scott for
direction.

"All the cells are open," he said.  All around them, former
prisoners were tentatively stepping out, looking at the two X-Men
with fear and distrust.  "It's all right," he said, raising his
voice to address the crowd.  "We're here to help, please follow
us."  Grabbing Jubilee's arm, he whispered, "take them back to the
tunnel.  I'm going to go find Hank and the others, get them to help
us with all these people."

Jubilee nodded, assuming her best tour guide stance. "If you'll all
just follow me, please…"

***

Logan panted against the pain for a moment before struggling to his
feet from where he'd collapsed against the wall.  His next task was
to cut through the bars of his prison cell, but when he approached
them, he was shocked to find the door swung open all on its
own.  "Very odd," he muttered to himself, stepping cautiously into
the hall.  Then again, he'd never been one to look a gift horse in
the mouth.  Whatever the reason, he'd just been granted freedom, and
he intended to use it.

He stalked up the hallway, sniffing as he went.  All around him,
other mutants were stepping out of their cells, testing their
freedom.  He paid them no attention; he had one person in mind, and
he was damned if he was going to leave without tracking the bastard
down and getting some answers.

As he turned a corner, he smelled something familiar – but it wasn't
Sabretooth.  Instead it was –

"Hank!" he exclaimed.  The man turned around, breaking into a wide
grin.

"Logan, thank heavens you're all right!"

"What are you doing here?"

"Looking for you, of course.  I stopped by this station to see what
our fellow here was up to, and lo and behold, I discovered a way to
open up all the cell doors."  He smiled, pleased with himself.
Logan didn't smile back.  "Uh… is everything all right?"

"You opened all the cells?" Logan repeated.  Hank nodded
uncertainly, suddenly feeling as though he'd done something terribly
wrong.

"What is it, Logan?"  he asked at length.

"Sabretooth."

"He's here?  Oh.  Oh, dear."

Logan nodded.  "I have to find him."  He was about to say something
else when Scott came running up to the two of them.

"We have to get these people out of here," he shouted,
panting, "Logan!" he added as an afterthought, upon seeing the other
man.  "Thank god you're alive!"

"Scott.  Sabretooth's on the loose.  I have to go find him."  Logan
wasted no time.

Scott didn't either.  "Right.  Hank, help me get these people back
to the tunnel.  Logan, as soon as we've got these folks secured,
we'll come back to help." The other man nodded and disappeared into
the darkness.  Scott turned back to Hank.  "Let's go."

***

"Wait a minute!" Kitty grabbed Bobby's arm to get his attention, and
he slammed on the brakes, nearly sending them into the ditch.

"What?" he stared at her.  Kitty was pointing wildly to a side road
that wound away over a nearby hill.

"It's a back entrance," she said, indicating the map.  "Look.
Here's where Rogue and Jubilee were pinpointed when Professor Xavier
used Cerebro.  Here's this side road.  See how it winds up behind
the main road?  It looks shorter too.  We can't just drive up the
driveway and expect everything to be okay."

Bobby considered it.  "You're right," he replied at length.
Throwing the car into gear, he turned and sped up the hill.

***

Logan stalked through the halls, oblivious to the now gradually
decreasing chaos around him.  His mind was focused on one thing
only – picking up Sabretooth's scent, and beating the answers he
needed out of the other man.

`Obviously, someone thinks its time to bring the team back
together.'  That's what Sabretooth had said.  The team.  Logan
wracked his brains trying to figure out what that meant, but he came
up empty every time.  He was certain now, though, that he knew
Sabretooth from his past, and that the hatred he felt for the
overgrown cat was personal.  He didn't know if he'd been on this
team or not, but Sabretooth did.  Sabretooth knew all kinds of
things that he hadn't shared yet, and Logan needed to know.

He paused, sniffing the air.  He thought he'd caught a whiff… yes,
there it was.  The other man's scent was unmistakable.  Logan
growled, low in his throat, and plunged forward.

***

"Look, there!"  Bobby pointed across the field at an old
warehouse.  "That must be it, look at those cameras."

Kitty nodded.  "How can we get in there?" she asked.  "It looks
pretty impenetrable."

Bobby looked at her.  "You've got to be kidding me," he replied.
Kitty just looked at him, confused.  "Kitty," he said slowly, as
though she were a child, "tell me, wouldn't it be convenient if we
knew someone who could *walk* through *walls*?"

Kitty's mouth fell open for a moment, then she grinned
shamefacedly.  "Right," she replied, blushing.  "Let's go then."

***

"Wolverine," an answering growl came back to him from the
shadows.  "I was looking for you."

"I want answers, Bub," Logan replied.  "You got `em.  Tell me about
this team."

Sabretooth chuckled. "Why should I?" he replied.  "What's in it for
me?"

"Your life," Logan replied.  His claws came out with a sharp sound.

"You haven't killed me yet," Sabretooth was circling him now, like a
cat stalking its prey.  Logan stood still, letting the other man
move around him, tracking his movements with a keen eye.

"Tell me about the team."

"We were fantastic."  Sabretooth was teasing him, and Logan knew it,
but every little bit of information could help him, could give him a
clue about his past.

"You mean I was fantastic," Logan replied as Sabretooth feinted,
laughing.  Logan didn't take the bait.

"*We* were fantastic.  We made quite a team, you and I.  Don't you
remember?"

"Very funny."  Logan reached up and blocked Sabretooth's next blow
with ease.  "You know," he said, cocking his head to look at the
taller man.  "I may not remember much, but I have this strong sense
that I was the better fighter."

"You weren't the fighter, period," the big cat replied.  They were
trading blows now. "You were reconnaissance.  I did the fighting.
Wraith was transport, and Silver Fox was infiltration."

"Silver Fox."  Logan paused mid-punch at the name.  It was like a
cool breeze washing over him, a memory of such peace and joy that it
caught him completely off guard.  Forgetting that Sabretooth would
never tell him, forgetting that he needed to play it cool or he'd
get no information at all, he asked, "Who was she?"

The other man laughed uproariously.  "Wouldn't you like to know,
though?" he taunted.

Logan growled fiercely, suddenly understanding, from somewhere deep
in his gut, someplace without consciousness, that the reason for his
fury with Sabretooth was intimately connected to the love he felt
upon hearing Silver Fox's name.  With a strength he didn't realize
he had, he pushed the other man against the wall, his claws laid out
across Sabretooth's neck.  "Who is she?" he ground out between his
teeth.

Sabretooth sobered up, feeling the blade cutting into his
skin.  "I'll tell you," he promised.  "I'll tell you everything."
Logan let up the pressure ever so slightly.

"Tell me about Silver Fox," he reiterated.

Sabretooth opened his mouth, but before he could speak, two bodies
materialized into the room, crashing into the men and knocking them
apart.

"Logan!" cried one of the bodies, who stood up from the heap and
turned out to be Kitty.

Logan sat up, a bit dazed from hitting his head.  "Kitty?" he asked,
a sinking sensation in his gut.  Before he'd had a chance to say
anything further, let alone find his feet, Sabretooth found his, and
brought the other body up with him.  Bobby hung limply in the big
man's grip.

"Fantastic," Sabretooth purred.  "Look what I've caught."  He shook
Bobby a little, making the young man wince.

Bobby's eyes met Logan's.  "S-sorry," he whispered.  "Rogue…"  he
trailed off as Sabretooth shook him again, a little harder.

Logan shook his head, ignoring Bobby's platitudes.  When he spoke,
his voice was low and dangerous.  "Let him go, Sabretooth," he
growled.

The other man laughed.  "I don't think so, runt," he replied.  "I
think I'll kill him."  Sabretooth's hands closed around Bobby's
neck, squeezing the air out of him.  Bobby turned purple, hands
clawing uselessly at Sabretooth's grip, gasping for breath.

***

Notes: Intro and Info in teaser.  Thanks for sticking with me guys,
sorry about inundating you with posts (I thought it would be better
than one 43 page post!)

***

Logan was silent as they walked back through the tunnel.  Hank and
Kurt were waiting for them.  ¡§The guards are still locked up, safe
and sound,¡¨ Kurt reported.  ¡§But I can¡¦t imagine a place as
sophisticated as this operating in total isolation.¡¨

¡§I agree,¡¨ Hank added.  ¡§We may be in the clear for now, but with
all the destruction we¡¦ve caused in these facilities, we can expect
more soldiers to arrive sooner, rather than later.  Scott, we need
to get out of here.¡¨

¡§We¡¦re going to Boston,¡¨ Scott replied.  He called Rogue and Jubilee
over from where they¡¦d be attending to the mutants that had been
freed.  Quickly, he filled everyone in on what he¡¦d learned about
the investigation of the school.  ¡§We can¡¦t bring all these people
there now, and as far as we know, Kitty, Jubilee, Rogue and Logan
are still considered fugitives.¡¨

¡§How are we going to get all these people to Boston?¡¨ Rogue asked.
There were a few vehicles around, but nowhere near enough room to
fit 30 newly freed mutants.

¡§There¡¦s a cell phone in our car,¡¨ Scott replied, referring to the
one he¡¦d driven up in with Hank and Kurt. ¡§I¡¦ll call Storm and get
her to bring the jet as soon as she¡¦s able.¡¨

¡§With the school under investigation, won¡¦t it be dangerous to bring
the jet out?¡¨ Kurt queried.

¡§Yes, but I don¡¦t think we have any other choice,¡¨ Scott replied. He
looked around at the other mutants, finally finding the one he was
looking for.  ¡§Logan,¡¨ he called, ¡§It isn¡¦t safe for you and the
girls to stay here.  Take the car that Bobby brought and head for
Boston.  We¡¦ll meet you there.¡¨

Logan had been standing apart from the rest of the group, his face
shadowed in the dim light.  He hadn¡¦t yet spoken and didn¡¦t speak
now, merely nodding his head in acquiescence to Scott¡¦s command.
With a pointed look at Kitty, Jubilee and Rogue, he turned on his
heel and walked back toward the tunnel.  The girls hurried to follow
him.

Once they were out of sight, Kurt looked at Scott, troubled.  ¡§What
is wrong with Logan?¡¨ he asked quietly.

Scott shook his head.  ¡§I don¡¦t know,¡¨ he replied, at a loss.  ¡§He¡¦s
been like that ever since¡K¡¨

¡§Ever since he killed Sabretooth,¡¨ Bobby cut in.  He hadn¡¦t meant to
be listening in on the adults¡¦ conversation, but the group was
huddled together, so he couldn¡¦t help but overhear.

Scott turned to face the youth.  ¡§What happened?¡¨ he asked.

Bobby shrugged.  ¡§I don¡¦t know, exactly.  We ¡V we saw the base and
we pulled up to it in your car.  Kitty phased me through the walls
and we almost got stuck.  She kind of had to tug us through.  The
next thing I knew, we were all in a pile with Logan and Sabretooth.
I don¡¦t know what they were doing before that, but once we fell in,
Sabretooth grabbed me and Logan had to kill him.¡¨

¡§Logan hates Sabretooth,¡¨ Hank sounded as puzzled as Scott
felt.  ¡§Why on earth would he be upset about killing him?¡¨

Once again Scott was at a loss to answer.  He could only repeat what
he¡¦d said before: ¡§I don¡¦t know.¡¨

***

Logan stalked down the tunnel, his body a picture of barely
controlled fury.  The girls stumbled over their own feet behind him,
trying to keep up.

¡§Logan, slow down, please!¡¨ Rogue called, but it was no use.  He
wasn¡¦t listening.  He turned round a bend in the tunnel and climbed
up into the other building, leaving the girls no choice but to
follow in his wake.

Eventually they caught up to him.  He was leaning against the wall
near one of the exits.  ¡§The doors sealed automatically,¡¨ he said,
his tone much gruffer than usual.  ¡§We can¡¦t get out that way.
Kitty, you¡¦ll have to take us out, one at a time.  Can you do it?¡¨

¡§I ¡V yes,¡¨ she replied, resolving to do whatever she had to so that
Logan wouldn¡¦t stay mad at her for whatever he was angry about.  She
knew it had been wrong of them to come, but it was hardly the first
time a X-Man had made a reckless mistake, gone charging in where
they ought not to have been.  She couldn¡¦t quite understand what had
Logan so angry, but she was determined not to give him any more
reason for upset.  ¡§I¡¦ll take Jubilee first,¡¨ she continued.
Jubilee was the easiest; she could work her way up to Logan, whose
considerable weight would make him difficult to transport.

Logan didn¡¦t move from the wall as she disappeared with Jubilee,
reappearing less than a minute to take Rogue.  There was a bit of
careful organization between the two girls to ensure that Rogue¡¦s
skin didn¡¦t accidentally touch Kitty¡¦s, and they were gone again.
Rogue must have been harder to transport, or Kitty was getting
tired, because it was a few minutes before she reappeared again, and
she looked a little out of breath.  ¡§Take a minute,¡¨ he told her.
She nodded her thanks.

They stood in silence for a few minutes.  Kitty mostly studied her
feet while Logan seemed to stare right past her.  Finally, she found
the courage to open her mouth and speak.  ¡§Logan,¡¨ she said
hesitantly.  ¡§I¡¦m so sorry.¡¨

He looked up at her and flashed a mirthless smile.  Kitty was
relieved to see some of the anger gone from his countenance.  ¡§It
was a very stupid thing you did, coming here,¡¨ he said.  ¡§I¡¦m sure
Bobby talked you into it.  I would have done the same if I were in
his shoes.¡¨  He shook his head as though to clear it.  ¡§You couldn¡¦t
have known what would happen, Kitty.  Sabretooth ¡V he said some
things to me when we were held captive together, and I wanted to
know what he meant.  But it doesn¡¦t matter now.¡¨

For a moment, his face looked raw and vulnerable as he raked his
hands through his dirty hair.  Kitty saw how much it really did
matter, despite Logan¡¦s attempt at reassurance.  He looked lost and
haunted.  She opened her mouth to say something.  She wasn¡¦t sure
what, but she felt like something had to be said, but Logan cut her
off by pushing off of the wall and approaching her.

¡§Ready?¡¨ he asked, nodding toward the concrete behind her back.  She
nodded and took his hand, steeling herself for the job of phasing
the larger man into the world beyond.

***

The girls fell asleep almost instantly.  Jubilee was out before he¡¦d
got the car in gear, and Kitty was soon to follow.  Rogue stayed
awake a bit longer, sitting in the passenger seat next to Logan and
watching him with her big doe eyes.  After a few minutes on the
highway, however, the rhythm of the wheels on the road lulled her
eyes shut and Rogue fell away as well.  Logan spared a glance for
her before returning his eyes to the road.

He was tired, too.  God, he had never felt more tired.  His hands
ached from where the Adamantium had leaked out of him; for whatever
reason, the wounds caused by that poison were slow to heal.  He¡¦d
been chained up for god knows how long, and then forced to fight a
deadly enemy, all the while worrying about the girls that were
supposed to be safe in his protection.  To top it all off,
Sabretooth, his last source of information, was gone.

Logan took a deep breath.  He couldn¡¦t allow himself to think of
it.  He¡¦d break apart, he knew it.  Instead, he focused his eyes
back on the road, mentally calculating the miles between New York
and Boston, and forming a plan around what he would do when he got
there.

***

Scott had retrieved the other car after Logan and the girls had
left, and placed a quick call to the mansion.  Everyone shared a
relieved sigh at finding everyone else all right, and then Storm
hung up, promising to be there within the hour.  She arrived in
thirty-five minutes.  The freed prisoners were loaded onto the jet;
Kurt, Bobby and Hank went with them.  Scott returned to his car and
started the long drive.

He was the last to arrive at the old church.  The parish priest had
been expecting them; all the prisoners were safely ensconced in a
dormitory originally meant for resident nuns.  The younger X-Men
were in the church basement playing card games, and Hank was hanging
around the parish office waiting for him.  ¡§Kurt went back with
Storm,¡¨ he explained as Scott walked up the church steps.

Scott smiled; he hadn¡¦t said anything, but he had been watching the
teleporter slowly but surely work his way into Storm¡¦s normally
isolated life, becoming a good friend.  He suspected Kurt would like
to be something more, and the fact that both of them had left
suggested to him that perhaps Storm would too.  ¡§Good for them,¡¨ he
replied.  ¡§Where¡¦s Logan?¡¨

Hank shrugged.  ¡§He¡¦s outside.  He¡¦s been sitting there, smoking,
ever since they got in.¡¨

Scott followed Hank¡¦s gaze to the churchyard.  Logan sat hunkered on
a bench near the gates to the cemetery, staring off into space.  ¡§I
should go talk to him,¡¨ Scott said.

Just then, the priest appeared in the doorway.  ¡§Mr. Summers?¡¨ he
asked.  At Scott¡¦s nod, he continued, ¡§Professor Xavier is on the
telephone for you.¡¨

Scott sighed, casting another glance at Logan.  Hank touched his arm
gently.

¡§You go talk to the professor,¡¨ he said.  ¡§I¡¦ll go talk to Logan.¡¨

***

Logan was the only person Hank knew with more sensitive hearing than
he had, but he gave no sign that he¡¦d noticed Hank¡¦s approach. Logan
didn¡¦t appear startled when the blue man sat down beside him,
though.  He just continued to stare out at a space between two
branches of a willow tree. They sat in silence for a long time.

Finally, Hank couldn¡¦t take it anymore.  ¡§Logan,¡¨ he started.  He
never got a chance to finish, because the other man interrupted.

¡§He said there was a team,¡¨ Logan said.  Hank raised his eyebrows at
the abrupt statement, but made no reply.  Logan took a deep drag and
exhaled slowly before continuing.  ¡§Sabretooth said we were on a
team.  Him and me and a woman named Silver Fox.  And that name¡K the
memories¡K¡¨

¡§You remembered something?¡¨

Logan laughed bitterly.  ¡§Nothing that simple, of course,¡¨ he
replied.  ¡§But¡K I hated Sabretooth with a passion that was personal,
before I ever knew who he was.  And I have no memory of Silver Fox,
but I know that I love her with an equal passion.  I have to find
her.  I have to find out what happened to me ¡V to us.¡¨

For the first time, Hank noticed that Logan had a packed bag beside
him.  He¡¦d obviously pilfered through the supplies they regularly
carried on the jet; he had everything he needed.

¡§You¡¦re leaving tonight,¡¨ Hank said.  It wasn¡¦t a question.

Logan nodded.  ¡§I¡¦m taking the car,¡¨ he replied.

¡§Scott will be furious.¡¨  Hank wasn¡¦t just talking about the car,
and they knew it.

Logan sighed.  ¡§Please, explain it to him.  Explain it to all of
them.  I just can¡¦t not know.¡¨  His voice nearly shook with the
force behind the words, and his eyes were filled with the
desperation he expressed.

Hank nodded compassionately.  He could understand why Logan felt the
need to explore his past.  He could hardly imagine what it must be
like, not knowing who you were or where you came from, having only
fragments of nightmarish memories and the word of killers to go on.
Still, he felt he had an ethical responsibility to try to talk Logan
out of this foolish course of action.

¡§You know you are wanted here.  The children love you.  They need
you.¡¨

¡§I know.¡¨

¡§Can¡¦t you ¡V can¡¦t you search for this woman without leaving?
Charles could help you.  There has to be another way.¡¨

Logan stood and began pacing.  He hadn¡¦t expected to get away
easily, but his mind was made up.  ¡§I can¡¦t stay.  I can¡¦t stay and
be patient and kind and loving, sit around and wait while Charles
goes rooting for information.  I can¡¦t teach and interact with
children when I feel like I¡¦m being torn apart.  I¡¦m haunted by her,
do you understand?  I have to find her.¡¨  He squared his shoulders
and picked up his pack.  ¡§You¡¦ll explain to the others?¡¨

¡§Of course.  I haven¡¦t a choice, really, do I?¡¨  Hank couldn¡¦t keep
a note of bitterness from creeping into his voice.

¡§I¡¦m sorry.  Thank you.¡¨ Logan turned to leave.  He¡¦d nearly reached
the parking lot where the car sat waiting when Hank¡¦s voice made him
turn around.

¡§Logan!¡¨ the other man had followed him, calling to him across the
grass.  Logan met his eyes and waited patiently.  Hank held the
gaze.  ¡§Remember ¡V you will always be welcomed.  Whenever you want
to, you can come back home.¡¨

Logan smiled a genuine, sad smile.  He nodded, not trusting himself
to speak, and then turned to the car once more.  Stowing his bag, he
climbed into the driver¡¦s seat and the car roared to life.  A moment
later, he was gone.

Hank watched him speed away, the engine disrupting the peace of an
otherwise quiet evening. It faded, and suddenly everything was
still ¡V for a moment.  Then he heard the overlapping voices behind
him and Scott and the girls came hurrying to the doorway, spilling
out into the crisp night air.  He took a breath and turned back to
his compatriots.  He had a message to deliver.

***

The end ļ

TITLE: Fortunate Voyager
PERMISSION TO ARCHIVE: Please ask.
CONTINUITY: Set in the middle of season 3 of Enterprise and several
months after the events of X2. This story is an AU for the remainder of
Enterprise's S3.
DISCLAIMER: Enterprise and all its crew belong to Paramount, and the
X-Men characters and universe belong to Twentieth Century Fox, Marvel,
and many other people with expensive lawyers, not me.
NOTES: This fic has been a long time coming and there a great many
people to blame...I mean thank. ::deep breath:: Unanon put up a
crossover challenge, which made me write an X-Men/Ent drabble. Then
Medie and Unanon said squee (multiple times) and Minisinoo fed the bunny
a bag of industrial strength plot bunny chow. Daria, Ozchick, and
*especially* Stexgirl provided helpful comments on a partial draft, and
Kathy Rose gave me Enterprise episode help. The final beta was by
Stexgirl, Akire, and Illmantrim. This fic would be much less coherent
without all of their assistance. Lastly, I've stolen a few names from
the Treksoap RPG. Just because.

* * * * *

"...the best that we find in our travels is an honest friend. He is a
fortunate voyager who finds many. We travel, indeed, to find them. They
are the end and the reward of life."
-- Robert Louis Stevenson, from Travels with a Donkey in the Cevenne


Doubled over in pain, as exhausted as if he'd run a marathon, it took
Scott several long moments to focus on his surroundings. His head was
ringing and throbbing, but there were voices. He couldn't remember
exactly why, but he knew he had to focus.

"Who are you and what are you doing on my ship?" someone behind him asked.

Another voice, someone standing right in front of him, was yelling
"Security to the bridge" in an educated British accent.

Logan, trying to sound conciliatory. "I don't know how we got here.
Where are we? Who the hell are *you*?"

Scott checked his glasses were on his face and undamaged. It seemed safe
to open his eyes, so he did, but that didn't help his confusion. Instead
of the suburban park he remembered, he was in some kind of monochromatic
control center, standing a step below a bank of machinery. A uniformed
man, his chiseled features tightened into a scowl, leaned over the
machinery to point a weapon at him.

"Don't move," said the man with a British accent, the weapon unwavering
in a hand that didn't look likely to miss at this distance.

"We won't," Scott said. "X-Men, stand down."

"Cyke--"

"I said, stand *down*!"

Behind him, Scott heard the distinctive sound of Logan's claws
retracting and the man in front of him looked shocked, his eyes widening
for a moment.

Vision clearing further, Scott risked a glance around. What kind of
uniforms were these people wearing? He didn't want to be in another
military facility. To his left was some kind of giant television screen
and to the right, banks of equipment along the walls.

"Who are you?" the voice behind him repeated.

"Answer the captain," the man in front of him said.

"Can I turn around?" Scott asked.

"Yes," the voice behind him said, sounding amused.

Slowly turning, Scott saw the shocked faces of various uniformed people
and his own team: Logan just behind him standing next to a black man
sitting at a console, Kitty and Bobby behind Logan, beyond them an Asian
woman seated in the far corner.

Near the rear of the room there was a blond man with another weapon,
aimed at Kitty and Bobby, and a man who walked toward him, standing in
front of a seat in the center of the room--obviously the captain. Scott
sighed with relief at seeing the students: Kitty and Bobby looked
frightened but uninjured.

Tall, broad-shouldered, and in the same blue uniform as the others, the
captain had a look of good humor, even in this tense situation. He was
no Stryker, Scott decided, relaxing a fraction.

"I'm Captain Jonathan Archer of the Enterprise," the captain said,
sitting down in his chair, fingers tapping on the chair's arm his only
sign of impatience or tension. "And you are?"

Scott paused. "I'm not quite sure how to answer. Can I ask if we're on a
submarine? Is this a Navy ship?"

Archer exchanged a look with the blond man, who'd come to stand next to
him. "Submarine?" he asked. "Are you trying to say you don't know you're
in space?"

Logan stiffened and stared around him, and Kitty and Bobby gasped.
Scott's jaw dropped and he found himself at a loss for words. The
television screen...he risked a glance behind him and found the screen
was filled with tiny dots. Stars. He turned back, unable to form a
coherent response.

Archer's mouth twitched in a slight smile. "I take it that's a yes." He
sobered again. "But that's irrelevant. You still haven't told me who you
are or how you got here. And my armory officer is itching to shoot you
for appearing and scaring us like that."

"Captain!"

Archer went on. "Enterprise isn't near any planets and we haven't seen a
sign of any other ships in days, so I'm curious where you came from,
especially without realizing you were in space."

Scott cleared his throat, choosing his words carefully. Starting out
with 'Hi, we're the X-Men and we're dangerous mutants, please arrest
us,' might not be for the best.

"My name is Scott Summers. I'm a teacher at the Xavier School for Gifted
Youngsters and I have absolutely no idea how we got here. The last thing
I remember," he paused, "we were meeting with a prospective student and
someone attacked us." He frowned. "I think."

Logan started to say something, but was interrupted by a whooshing
sound, which heralded an opening door behind Archer, allowing two men
and a woman in the same uniforms and carrying guns to run into the room.
They fanned out, looking deadly serious, and aimed their weapons at the
X-Men. The blond-haired man shrugged and lowered his weapon.

Archer glanced at the new arrivals. "Everything is under control at the
moment." When none of them showed any signs of relaxing, he turned back
to Scott, seemingly content to wait all day for an explanation.

Scott sighed, considering the fact that everyone in the room had seen
Logan's claws. "Look, I'm sure it's no shock to you that we're mutants,
but we aren't here to attack you." He braced himself for the inevitable
uproar.

Archer's brow wrinkled. "Mutants? I'm not following you."

Scott spoke before Logan could say something stupid. "Mutants. The ones
Senator Kelly was trying to register? Mutants."

More confusion on all the unfamiliar faces. "Senator Kelly? Should we
know who that is?" the blond man asked, his accent as warm and
comfortingly southern as Rogue's.

Archer shook his head. "I don't understand."

Scott stared at his team for a moment, then looked around him at people
who had no idea who Senator Kelly was. Outer space. An unfamiliar ship
configuration. Voice cracking, he asked, "What year is it?"

Archer considered him for a long moment. "2153," he said finally.

Logan summed the situation up with his usual flair: "Well, fuck."

* * * * *

It took some time to quiet the room, but Archer managed it, pinning
Scott with a stare. "What year do *you* think it is?"

"Let's just say the number two at the beginning is only a few years old
for us."

The blond man grinned suddenly. "Geez, I can't wait to hear what T'Pol
has to say about this."

"Trip..." Archer said.

"Yes, Cap'n." Trip didn't look abashed or all that frightened and Scott
tried to decide if he was accustomed to people appearing on the ship or
didn't see any danger in them.

Archer's eyes narrowed. "Wait, early 21st century?"

"Yes."

There was a strangled noise from behind him and the captain looked over
Scott's shoulder. "Lieutenant?"

"Mutations, sir? From *that* time?"

Scott tensed. Just when things were going so well. He glanced over his
shoulder. The lieutenant had gone from looking pissed to looking
downright hostile, which was definitely not a good sign. He turned back
around.

"I was getting to that, Malcolm." Archer looked at Scott, mouth tight
now. "Are you followers of Khan Noonien Singh?"

The hairs on his arms stood up at the sudden increase in tension, and he
knew this was a momentous question. But...

"Who?" he asked.

Everyone stared at him. "You really mean that," Archer said, eyes wide.

It wasn't a question, but Scott answered anyway. "I do. We don't follow
him because we have no idea who he is. Or was."

"How can you not know Khan?" Trip asked.

"How can you not know Senator Kelly? Are you sure you haven't heard of
the Mutant Registration Act? Magneto?" More blank stares and Scott's
head throbbed harder. "You *have* to know who he is. He was already
making the history textbooks this fall."

Archer shook his head. "I'm not especially expert in the Eugenics War
period."

"Eugenics War?" Kitty flushed when everyone looked at her, but stood her
ground. "I'm sorry. I just..."

"What were you going to say?" Archer asked. Scott mentally thanked him
for the gentle tone.

"Well," Her face was still red, but embarrassment was fading back to
fear, and she looked to Scott for reassurance. When he nodded, she went
on in a tiny voice. "Does...does that mean all the mutants are dead? Did
you kill everybody?"

Trip looked away. "I'm sorry, kid. It's...it was complicated."

"Wait." Archer shook his head. "This doesn't make sense. The war took
place in the 1990s, so you'd have to know who Khan was. He set off
nuclear weapons, tried to destroy the planet. Either you're lying--"

"Or it's some alternate universe," the black man standing next to Logan
said suddenly.

"What?" Almost everyone asked the question, but the man responded to Archer.

"Well, sir, there have always been theories of alternate universes, time
as a branching tree. Perhaps we're in a future where things turned out
differently."

"It would explain things," Archer said. "An intriguing suggestion, Travis."

"If they're telling the truth," the lieutenant from security said behind
them. Scott could sympathize with the anguish of a security officer who
saw security going to hell in a handbasket, but he'd like to be believed.

Archer sighed, looking over the X-Men. Scott tried to look harmless,
which was easier than normal, because he felt like a wet dishrag.
Whatever had happened to them, he was worn out. Hopefully the kids
didn't feel this bad.

Archer's eyes rested on Logan, and Scott groaned internally. Out of the
corner of his eye, he saw Logan shifting uneasily, hands flexing.

Archer looked at the so-far silent Asian woman in the corner. "Hoshi,
get T'Pol up here as soon as possible and see if you can get Admiral
Forrest on the line. Meanwhile," he looked at the security guards, "take
them to the brig." Looking back at Scott, he said, "You won't be harmed,
but you understand I can't have you wandering around my ship until I
know what's going on."

Nodding, Scott could only agree with the caution. "I understand. But let
me assure you we mean you no harm and we came here accidentally."

Scott caught Logan's eyes, willing the man to stay calm. Weapons still
pointed at him, he moved slowly forward, putting a hand on Bobby's
shoulder and squeezing. Kitty was starting to look scared, so Scott
patted her back. "C'mon, Kitty. Have you ever been in a brig before? The
Professor *has* been saying we need to broaden the students' horizons."

Kitty giggled, as did Hoshi behind her. Hand still on Kitty's back,
Scott followed the security guards.

* * * * *

Since the elevator wasn't big enough for all of them *and* security,
Kitty and Scott went down first. The brig wasn't very large either, so
Scott let her sit on the bunk, while he propped himself against the
wall. His legs were starting to shake, but he stared fixedly through the
mesh wall at the door until Logan and Bobby were led through.

When the door shut behind the rest of his team, Scott took a deep breath
and tried to push away from the wall. To his surprise, his legs gave out
and he missed hitting the floor only because Logan caught him. "Shit,
Cyke, what's wrong?"

Trembling, Scott managed to push Logan away and stagger to the bunk,
sitting next to Kitty. He looked at the others. "The trip didn't affect
any of you this way?"

They shook their heads. "No," Bobby said. "I got a little dizzy, but
that went away almost immediately."

"Mr. Summers, are we really in an alternate future?" Kitty had her arms
wrapped around her stomach.

"I think so."

"If it's a trick," Logan said, "it's damn good. This place, it smells
different, it sounds wrong, there's this *humming* that's driving me
crazy. It's like a motorcycle engine in the back of my head. It doesn't
sound like any plane or boat I've been on."

Scott really looked at Logan for the first time since they'd arrived,
noting the tension in his muscles and the way his eyes were constantly
shifting. Damn it, he thought, I never considered what a shock this
might be to someone with enhanced senses.

"I don't think it's a trick," he said aloud. "What else can you tell me?"

Frowning, Logan considered the question. "They've got a lot of guns, but
most don't seem particularly aggressive. Except for during the confusion
about that Khan guy. Nobody reacted when you said mutants, but when they
thought we were with Khan, they were frightened."

"Huh." Scott blinked, trying to marshal fuzzy thoughts. "For the moment,
let's try not to volunteer any...excess information about how gifted we
are, hmm?" He wished for a telepath, so he wouldn't have to be so
elliptical.

Kitty and Bobby nodded and he had to be content with that. Logan started
to pace back and forth, which made Scott dizzy, so he closed his eyes.

Scott sighed, wondering what the guards would do if they knew Bobby
could cause many common materials to freeze and crack, Scott's eyes
could blast a hole through most things, Logan's claws could cut through
almost anything...and if all else failed, Kitty could walk them through
anything else. The only thing keeping them in this place was his desire
to do things the easy way. Just once.

* * * * *

Jon stood in the command center, staring at a display from the Xindi
database without really seeing it, as the bridge crew trickled in. T'Pol
was first, possibly annoyed at missing the grand arrival. At least
that's what he thought it meant when he got "Captain" as a greeting from
his first officer and she headed straight for a console to bring up all
the data they had.

Hoshi and Travis came in together, both ensigns still looking startled
by the whole thing. "Captain," Hoshi said, "I've left Baird trying to
track down Admiral Forrest, but the signal is very weak. I'm not certain
your initial report even made it through intact."

"Great." He shook his head in annoyance. Just when he *wanted*
Starfleet's input, they were out of reach.

Trip strode in and went to look over T'Pol's shoulder. He glanced at
Jon. "Oh, Phlox is fixing up Foster, who managed to hurt himself in the
gym when an anomaly buckled the floor under him."

"We'll get started when Malcolm gets here, then."

Right on cue, the door opened and Malcolm stalked in, lips tight. "I've
got the brig under constant surveillance, sir, but I'd like to get back
as soon as possible. If they can appear and disappear, who knows what
they might do."

"What do you think of their story?" Jon asked, avoiding Malcolm's eye.
T'Pol opened her mouth, but he beat her to it. "Don't say it."

"Say what, Captain?" She asked with her best bland Vulcan stare.

"About the Vulcan Science Directorate and time travel."

"In fact, I was about to say that the Vulcan Science Directorate has
never proven the existence of other dimensions or alternate realities
and thus--"

"Thank you, Sub-commander, I think we get the idea." Jon stared at her,
trying to decide if she was amused or annoyed, but gave it up as a
hopeless job.

"I find it all highly improbable," Malcolm said. "It concerns me that we
have no way to check their story. If they're from a different reality,
we can't check Earth records."

Frowning, Jon leaned against the console. "That's true."

"They brought kids, Cap'n," Trip threw in. "How many assault teams
include scared teenagers?"

Malcolm looked unconvinced. "One of them had claws in his hands, like
the Suliban enhancements. Perhaps they only *look* like frightened
adolescents?"

Trip threw his hands in the air. "What? You think they're midget Xindi
soldiers with really good plastic surgery?"

"We don't know, Commander. We've been fooled before."

"I think they're telling the truth, Captain." Travis looked a little
nervous to interrupt the senior officers squabbling, but the pilot was firm.

"I do too, sir," Hoshi added. "Their body language says they're confused
and worried, not belligerent. Besides, if they wanted to attack us, why
didn't they just do it?"

Jon tapped his fingers on the console. "They might be spies, not troops."

"So now they're midget Xindi *spies*?" Trip rolled his eyes. "Look, I
don't know if they're telling the truth, but if they're trying to spy,
that was the most inept approach I've ever seen."

T'Pol spoke up. "I believe the proper course of action would be to have
Dr. Phlox examine them. He can certainly determine if they are human."

"Thank you, that's the most sensible thing anyone has said. Malcolm,
arrange for Phlox to take a look at them."

"Yes, sir."

"T'Pol, you and Trip take a look at the readings from their arrival. See
if you can pinpoint how they got here. We'll meet again when we have
data, not speculation."

Everyone scattered, leaving Jon staring at the display, thoughts in a whirl.

What was going on? Was this some new attack from the Xindi? Or yet
another salvo in the damn Temporal Cold War that seemed mainly to be
dedicated to driving him insane?

Good lord, what could possibly be the benefit in taking four people from
an alternate past (if they could be believed) and dumping them on the
ship? Other than distracting Enterprise from its mission to save the
Earth, of course.

Where the hell was Daniels when he needed him? Jon thought, wishing the
former steward--and time traveler--would show up. Even one of his
typically confusing explanations would be welcome at this moment.

Of course, things would be greatly simplified if the intruders were
lying. Malcolm was right, they'd certainly been fooled before. He
thought with a pang of embarrassment and sadness of Raijin, her beauty
and duplicity. And they'd also been attacked plenty of times. Jon
remembered the pirate they'd captured months before, his boiling rage at
the alien. How he'd come close to suffocating him in an airlock.

Jon shivered. Maybe things *wouldn't* be simpler if they were lying.

* * * * *

When the door to the brig shussed open, Scott's eyes were still shut, as
he attempted to still the trembling that seemed to be getting worse.

A moment later, gasps from Kitty and Bobby and the sound of Logan moving
got his attention and he opened his eyes. The face peering through the
mesh of the prison was nightmarish and wrong, the skin color no shade
he'd ever seen on a human, pulled in all the wrong directions.

Scott fought an instinctive desire to climb up on the bunk and pull his
knees to his chest. This person had to be a mutant or a shapeshifter
like Mystique. But then why didn't they know what mutants were, except
in reference to this mysterious Eugenics War?

"Hello," the apparition said, "my name is Dr. Phlox, the chief medical
officer of this vessel. Lieutenant Reed says you claim to be from the
past, so I assume you have never seen a Denobulan before."

"A what?" Bobby asked.

"A Denobulan. From the planet Denobula."

"The planet..." Kitty sounded like she'd stopped breathing. "You mean
you're..."

"Not human? Quite correct, young lady." He beamed at her, a smile so big
it looked as if his face should split open. "Now, the captain has asked
me to examine you to see if we can verify what you said." Turning to the
security guard behind him, he gestured at the door. "Please let me in. I
certainly can't do anything from out here."

The guard frowned, but unlocked the door, eyeing them suspiciously the
entire time.

The Denobulan, Phlox, seemed to understand their unease and he moved
slowly, stopping just inside the door so it could be locked behind him.

Logan's nose twitched and he growled once, low in his chest, stepping
between the alien and the students. Scott thought about intervening, but
decided to let it play out. If Logan's instincts said there was trouble,
he wanted to know why.

Phlox stood still. "I will not harm you. I would like to run some scans
and draw blood to test your DNA."

Fascinated, Kitty and Bobby peered around Logan. "Not the kids," Logan
said, voice low. "No tests."

Phlox leaned his head to one side. "I will need to scan them, but we can
skip the blood for the moment. May I ask what is wrong?"

"You smell wrong," Logan said, not taking his eyes off him.

Ah, Scott thought, that made sense. "It's okay, Logan, he told us he's
an alien."

"But--"

"We're going to have to trust them if we want to get out of this. We're
in space. Were you planning to fly us back to Earth?" It took all his
strength to get the last sentence out, the trembling grown worse, almost
palsy now.

"Mr. Summers?" Kitty's voice was higher than normal, and he managed to
drag his head around to look at her, but the effort made his head swim.

"Cyke?"

Everything was grayer than it was supposed to be, and his vision
narrowed into a tunnel. Scott tried to say something, but couldn't find
the words or make his mouth form the right shapes. It was curiously like
drowning, struggling to breathe or move.

"Don't touch him!" Logan's growl was now a roar, cutting through the fog.

"This man needs medical attention!" The doctor's good humor had given
way to anger of his own. "You must allow me to examine him."

"Did you do something to him?"

Scott could feel he was lying on the bunk, but couldn't control his body
as it shook.

"How could I?"

"Logan, Mr. Summers was feeling bad already, remember?"

Good, Bobby, very good.

"Okay. Help him. Just don't touch the glasses unless you want a hole in
your ship."

Cool hands held Scott in place, the voice of the alien doctor shouted
for assistance. It was too much effort to keep concentrating and Scott
let go, sinking into the fog.

--continued in part 2--

TITLE: Fortunate Voyager
AUTHOR: Mara Greengrass

Other headings and disclaimers in part 1

* * * * *

Jon slammed through the door to sickbay, but skidded to a halt when he
nearly ran down an orderly carrying a piece of equipment. For a moment,
sickbay looked like the middle of a full-scale war, but after a few
moments, he realized it was only Phlox, several assistants, and what
seemed like half of security.

Summers lay on the biobed outside the main scanner and Phlox frowned at
the readings above the bed as if they'd personally insulted his
professional expertise.

"This man is unconscious," Phlox shouted as a guard bumped into him. "I
hardly believe he is in any condition to attack me."

"Lieutenant Reed said--"

"You are *in my way*," Phlox said. "I cannot properly treat my patient
with all of you hovering."

Jon decided it was time to intervene. "It's okay. Do as the doctor says."

"Yes, sir." The security guards all stepped out of the way, allowing
various orderlies to swoop in.

Phlox didn't even acknowledge the captain, muttering furiously to Liz
Cutler, who ran to the nearest console and started tapping away. Jon
wanted to ask questions, but contented himself with studying the man on
the biobed from the safe vantage point of the doorway.

Honestly, Summers looked terrible. He was so still, Jon might have
thought he was dead if Phlox wasn't still working, and his face was pale
and drawn. In fact, he looked underfed in general. Jon frowned. Why did
he still have those red sunglasses on?

Phlox whirled around. "I need to talk to one of the other visitors. Find
out if one of them knows anything about this man's medical history."

Everyone looked at Jon, who paused for a moment, indecisive. Then he
nodded at the nearest guard, Crewman Soong. "Do it. Bring someone here.
Fast."

She nodded and dashed out the door. It seemed an interminable wait, with
Phlox running tests and looking anxious, but finally the glass door
opened and Soong entered with the young woman.

Jon's heart went out to her, with her wide eyes and hands clenched by
her side. When she saw Summers lying on the biobed, she gasped and put a
hand to her mouth, and the crowd seemed to make her even more nervous.

"Thank you for coming," Jon said quietly, trying not to spook her. "My
doctor needs your help to help your friend."

"He's my teacher," she said firmly, looking up at him through a curtain
of long brown hair.

"Okay, your teacher. What's your name?"

"Katherine Pryde. But everybody calls me Kitty."

"Nice to meet you, Kitty." Now that she seemed less likely to have
hysterics, he glanced at the doctor, who looked ready to explode. "Now
let's see if you can tell Dr. Phlox what he needs to know."

"I'll try," she said. "I help Dr. McCoy sometimes."

As soon as she was in range, Phlox started firing questions at her.
Fortunately, she seemed to understand what he was asking, which was
good, because Jon was lost after she said something about "brain
damage." Within moments, the two were huddled over a console and she was
pointing to things and talking about "X factors" and "UV conversions".
Jon resumed staring at the stranger, hoping he wasn't going to die.

"That's it!" Phlox said. "We need a broad-spectrum UV emitter *now*."

"A...right." Jon turned and punched the comm button. "Archer to
Engineering."

"Go ahead, sir."

* * * * *

The bright light got Scott's attention first. No, he thought, I refuse
to believe in that bright light you're supposed to see when you're
dying. Anything but that.

"Mr. Summers?" a voice called. "Please open your eyes."

Open my eyes? he wondered. What if I don't *want* to see the tunnel?

"Maybe if you stopped shining the light in his face," another voice
responded.

Kitty? Maybe he wasn't dead after all.

The light dimmed and Scott experimented with his eyelids, finding--to
his great surprise--that they opened. He blinked a few times, pleased
with this sign of progress.

"He's moving!" Kitty said.

"Mr. Summers," the same unidentified voice said again, "how are you?"

"Like death warmed over," he croaked, squinting. Ah, it was the captain
talking to him.

"I am not surprised," the doctor said from behind him. Scott craned his
neck around and the doctor obligingly moved where he could be seen. "You
were in rather grave danger, until Ms. Pryde and I were able to
determine the difficulty."

"You ran out of gas," Kitty said.

"Ah."

Scott nodded sagely until Kitty recognized his sarcasm. "Dr. McCoy
explained to me once that you convert sunlight into energy and if you
went without sunlight, it might make you sick."

"Very sick, actually," Scott said. "Hank and I tested it once and it
wasn't pleasant. I'm surprised I didn't recognize the feeling."

"Well, you were probably busy," Archer said, with an engaging half grin
which Scott couldn't help but return.

"I suppose so. But in our test, it took me almost a week to get sick.
What would be different here?"

Phlox made an odd sound. "I suspect you used the energy you had stored
when you removed yourself and your companions to this ship."

"How the...how did I do that?" Scott stared at the doctor, the bottom
dropping out of his stomach. Bad enough he had the capacity to
accidentally blow a hole through a mountain, but now he needed to worry
about hopping through the multiverse if he wasn't paying attention?

"We are not entirely certain. Sub-commander T'Pol and Commander Tucker
were arguing about that when I last saw them."

"Great." A deep breath. "Is there any chance of my accidentally moving
anyone right now?"

"We do not think so. It seems to have used up a great deal of your
resources, which are not yet recharged. And from what Ms. Pryde
describes, you were under attack at the time. Perhaps that condition
might be required."

"Right." Scott resisted the urge to groan, put the whole question aside
to be dealt with later, and turned to Kitty. "Are Logan and Bobby okay?"

She smiled. "Other than worrying about you, I think so. I went down a
few minutes ago to let them know you were okay. Logan growled."

"We'll leave you to recover," the captain said, "although I'm afraid the
guards will have to remain over there."

Scott nodded. "I understand. And thank you for saving my life."

When the captain and doctor had moved away, Kitty looked worried. "I'm
sorry. I had to tell him about your powers and some of the stuff about
mutants. He needed to know."

"Don't be too sorry. You *did* save my life, after all."

She shuffled her feet. "Well, Ms. Grey wouldn't..." She gasped and
looked away. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean--"

"It's okay," he said, throat tight. "You can mention Jean."

Kitty's eyes filled with tears and Scott struggled to sit up. "I'm okay.
Really." He put his arms around her and she began to cry, huge tears
rolling down her cheeks.

Scott fought back his own tears, hating his weakness, the desire to go
fetal and let the universe sort itself out. But duty called as it always
did. And he would be strong for Bobby and Kitty, because now they'd seen
him break down twice. Today and the day that Jean had died. That was two
too many times.

* * * * *

Jon nodded to Phlox. "In your office?"

"Certainly, Captain."

Within moments, they were seated with the door closed. "I take it you
haven't had a chance to complete your study."

"Complete it, no. But I believe the data from Mr. Summers and Ms. Pryde
should be sufficient for a preliminary report. I can assure you our
visitors are human...with some variations."

"Variations? Are they genetically engineered? Are they Khan's superhumans?"

"I do not see any evidence of deliberate genetic manipulation, Captain.
As strange as they seem, these changes appear to have occurred naturally."

Jon leaned back in his chair. "Tell me about the changes."

"Apparently, Mr. Summers' body converts several parts of the ultraviolet
spectrum, those found in light from Earth's sun, into a physical beam
that shoots out of his eyes. Thus, the sunglasses, which restrain the
beams."

"You're kidding."

"No, I most certainly am not." Phlox pursed his lips. "The changes to
the human genome are fascinating, and nothing like this has ever been
reported. Not in our timeline, at least."

Jon swore quietly to himself and took a deep breath. "Malcolm's not
going to believe it. Let's go talk to them."

* * * * *

Jon leaned in the doorway, instincts at war, and watched Summers comfort
Kitty. Enterprise was all alone in the Expanse, surrounded by deadly
enemies, and practicality told him not to trust strange people who
appeared out of nowhere and could potentially shoot *energy* out of
their eyes. But Jon's heart went out to the young man who'd nearly died
a short while ago and now was trying to calm a frightened young woman.

When Phlox stepped up behind him, Jon took a few steps closer and saw
Summers stiffen and then relax. "Captain. Doctor."

Kitty swallowed her tears and stepped away. "Hi."

"Sorry to interrupt, but I think we need to talk. Perhaps Kitty would
like to be introduced to some of Dr. Phlox's menagerie."

Summers nodded once and Phlox smiled at Kitty, leading her away as he
chattered about Pyrithian bats and Andorian snails. Tilting his head to
one side, Summers waited for him to speak.

It was disconcerting, Jon thought, trying to judge a man wearing red
sunglasses. They seemed to cover more than just his eyes. Not to mention
that the man did a better blank face than Malcolm. He might as well be
made of stone, with those sharp edges.

"I don't know what to do with you," Jon said. "You're a living,
dangerous weapon and your friend has *claws*. Phlox says your mutation
seems to be natural."

"Logan's claws are...complicated, but if I'd done this to my eyes on
purpose, I'd be able to control it," Summers said, sounding tired. "I
would be able to take off my glasses."

"Hmm." Jon sighed, considering his (limited) options.

"I think it might be time for full disclosure about what we can do.
It'll either help you trust us or..."

"Or?"

"You'll try to kill us."

Jon shook his head, not sure what he was disagreeing with.

Summers looked around to find Kitty. "Kitty, could you come here?" She
started to walk around a biobed. "The short way, please."

Without slowing, she walked *through* the bed.

Jon felt his jaw drop and Phlox's eyes gleamed as he grabbed a medical
tricorder. Kitty looked puzzled. "But I thought--"

"I changed my mind. Thank you for the demonstration."

"Sure. Do you need me to phase through anything else?"

Summers waved at Phlox. "I think he'd like a few demonstrations. It's
okay, go on."

Light-headed, Jon watched Kitty put her hand through various solid
objects. "I've got to be careful," she said. "I short out electronics if
I phase through them."

"Fascinating!"

Summers was solemn when Jon turned back, waiting for a reaction.

"What else can you people do?"

"The military coated Logan's bones with the hardest metal known,
adamantium, and he naturally has enhanced senses as well as the ability
to heal from injuries incredibly fast. The claws can cut through nearly
anything. They're also a present from the military."

The last sentence contained more venom and bitterness than Jon had heard
from Summers since his precipitous arrival. He wondered what it was for.
"What about the young man?"

"Bobby draws heat out of the air, although we haven't figured out how.
But it lets him create, shape, and control ice. He can chill things to
an incredibly low temperature."

"Wow."

"If we'd wanted to fight you...we'd have done a great deal of damage. We
might even have won."

"I can see that." Jon's mind reeled. "But you didn't."

"No."

"I'm not sure you've made this any easier. I can't really put you back
in the brig when she can walk right out of it." Jon started to pace
across sickbay, hoping movement would jog his brain. Passing the comm
panel, he tapped it. "Archer to T'Pol."

"Go ahead, Captain."

"I need you and Trip in sickbay. And get Malcolm. Oh, have him get
someone to bring the other two up from the brig."

"Understood."

Summers was as still as a statue, jaw tense, waiting.

Jon glared at him, angered at the resignation, the implication that
Summers knew how he would react. "Damn it, I'm not going to kill you!"

Kitty and Phlox looked up.

"It's okay, Kitty," Summers said, not turning his head, watching Jon.

The tension built until it was nearly a palpable presence. What were
these people capable of, why were they here, were they telling the truth?

A whoosh and the door to sickbay opened and Jon finally turned to look.
Malcolm had a hand on his phase pistol as he entered, scanning the room
for danger. His eyes widened and his fingers closed on the weapon, so
Jon turned to see what he was looking at.

Kitty stood with her hand inside a biobed, watching the new arrivals.

"Cap'n, what the--" Trip and T'Pol stood just inside sickbay, the door
closing behind them.

"New developments, Trip."

Kitty looked down at her hand, pulled it out of the table and sidled
over next to Scott.

"Yeah, I can see that."

"Have you made any progress?"

"Well, we've matched up some of the particles with the ones off that
derelict and the cyborg ship on Earth. So, that's good evidence for time
travel." Trip grinned at T'Pol, who ignored him.

"What particles?" Summers asked.

"The ones you were leaking like a bucket full of holes. A couple of
bridge sensors nearly blew out when you arrived, but it's pretty certain
you were the source."

"I believe this eliminates an outside actor such as a transporter,"
T'Pol said.

The door opened and Trip and T'Pol stepped out of the way to allow Logan
and Bobby to enter, followed by two of the MACOs. Logan's eyes flicked
briefly to Scott and Kitty, then swept the room. Jon wondered what
branch of the military he'd been in, because only someone who'd seen
some kind of combat reacted like that.

Bobby looked at everyone and went to stand next to Kitty, who smiled
reassuringly at him. Jon was struck by the resilience of youth, moving
from tears to helping a classmate in a few minutes. Logan prowled over
to stand off to one side, eyeing Malcolm and his phase pistol.

"Well," Jon said, clearing his throat, "I thought it was time to lay
everything on the table. Phlox says our visitors don't seem to have
deliberate genetic manipulations. They've shown me they had the capacity
to do a great deal of damage--not to mention leave the brig--none of
which they chose to do."

"If we wanted you dead, you would be," Logan said, voice very cold and
brittle. Jon shivered, aware in a way he hadn't been before, that *this*
man was a killer.

"Logan." The one word from Summers seemed to be enough, although they
took a moment to glare at each other. But Logan subsided, not
responding--except to roll his head until his neck cracked.

That moment should have frightened Jon, should have made him say,
'Sedate them and put them back in the brig.' But it didn't. It was
something about the way Bobby was trying to look brave and Kitty had her
hands clenched by her side. And something about the way a killer with
claws took orders from a young man with dark sunglasses. That young
man--his instincts said--could be trusted.

"Until we figure out how to return you to your proper time and place,
I'm releasing you from the brig."

"Captain!" Malcolm's voice was anguished.

T'Pol didn't move except for a slight quirk of the lips. "Are you
certain that is wise?"

"Not at all. But I'm taking a chance." Malcolm opened his mouth, but Jon
shook his head and the armory officer subsided. "Yes, they'll be
restricted to nonessential portions of the ship."

"Thank you, sir." The tone was truculent, but Jon chose to ignore that.

"Thank you, Captain," Summers said. It was still impossible to tell what
he was thinking, Jon thought with no little annoyance.

"Let's just hope we can find a way to get you home or I'm going to have
to explain your continued presence to Starfleet. And I'd rather not do
that."

Phlox broke in. "Now that we have these preliminaries complete, I
believe my patient needs to eat."

Jon nodded. "Mr. Summers, if you'd care to join me for dinner in my
private mess? I think we have some things to discuss."

A calm nod. "Thank you, Captain."

"Malcolm, please escort the other three to the mess hall so they can get
something to eat as well." The armory officer, still scowling, led them
out. "T'Pol? Trip?"

"I would like to resume my investigations, Captain."

"Have fun, T'Pol, I need something to eat. I'll join ya, Captain."

* * * * *

The atmosphere in the captain's private dining hall was much more
relaxed once food had been consumed. Summers had spent every spare
moment staring out at the stars, which made Jon like him even more. They
made it through the salad and chicken and apple pie on innocuous
conversation.

"So, tell me about mutants," Jon said, leaning back in his seat, sipping
coffee.

Summers looked up from his cup. "As near as we can tell, mutants with
fantastic powers began to appear in limited numbers in the 1950s,
perhaps caused by experiments with radioactivity. By the end of the
century, our numbers were great enough to make people nervous." It
sounded like a speech he'd made many times, perhaps a museum tour.

"Some, like my mentor Charles Xavier, believe humans and mutants should
be able to live together. Others, like Magneto, see war between humans
and mutants as inevitable. He intends to be on the winning side, no
matter what."

Jon sighed. "Sounds familiar. What about this Senator Kelly you
mentioned when you arrived?"

Summers twirled his coffee cup, his jaw twitching once before he
answered. "He sponsored the Mutant Registration Act. All mutants would
have been required to register with the government. It was a 'license to
lynch mutants' law."

"Damn," Trip said.

"It's been difficult riding in the center of the road, trying to keep
mutants under control as well as the humans trying to kill us. There
have been...losses, mistakes."

He stopped abruptly, jaw clenched and hand nearly white on the cup. The
pain was so obvious, Jon almost called Phlox before he realized his pain
was mental, not physical. He and Trip looked away and waited for him to
regain control.

"That's our history in a nutshell," Summers said eventually. "Now, who
is Khan?"

"Well, around the same time your mutants were appearing spontaneously,"
Jon said, "people on Earth, our Earth, were trying to create
supermen--stronger, faster, smarter. Then the supermen grew up. It
started as isolated terrorist activities, but it was really Khan gaining
power.

"Near the end of the century, he and his supermen came out of the closet
and began their work in earnest--threats, near-destruction of the Earth,
it was a terrible time. It left us with strict laws against genetic
manipulation."

Summers shook his head slowly. "Khan probably spouted a lot of garbage
about how his people were the next step in evolution and survival of the
fittest, right?"

Trip snorted. "That's about right."

"Sounds like Khan and Magneto would have loved each other."

"Please, don't even think about that," Jon said, trying to lighten the
mood. "For all we know, you can wish them into the same universe."

"You never know." Summers stared out at the stars, looking
uncomfortable. "Did Khan suffer any particular persecution?"

"Not that I know of, why?"

"Magneto...Erik was a Jewish survivor of World War II, of the Holocaust.
He saw his parents dragged away to be killed."

"Oh."

"Mm-hmm. He sees the treatment of mutants and the calls for registration
as signs that mutants are going to be rounded up in concentration camps
to be murdered."

Jon studied Summers, intrigued. "You're afraid he's right."

"Yes." It was little more than a whisper.

Jon and Trip waited.

Rubbing his temple under the glasses, Summers went on. "A few months
ago, the school, our school for mutant children, was attacked by the US
military and some of the students were kidnapped. Experimented on. I was
drugged, brainwashed. I nearly killed...people, before I was stopped."

There was something else, Jon could tell, and it made his stomach roll
think there might be something worse than what Summers had already
described.

Summers took a few moments to calm down, but eventually he looked up.
"But we've moved on, tried to resume our mission of teaching the kids
how to control their powers, and monitoring the mutants with less noble
goals. It's been difficult." He stopped again.

"What about this Professor Xavier?" Jon asked. "Who is he?"

Summers brightened, an amused smile on his lips. "My mentor and my
teacher. He comes from old family money, which let him set up the school."

"Does he have powers too?" Trip asked.

"He's a telepath." Summers sighed. "Extremely powerful."

Trip sat up straight. "A telepath? He reads minds?"

"Yes."

Trip managed to draw back without moving--it was something in the look
on his face. "That's...how do you..."

Summers turned toward Trip, obviously wanting him to understand. "The
Professor does not read minds uninvited. That's part of why he started
the school, so we could develop the ethical aspect of our mutations."

Trip's face twisted. "You can't do that, can you?"

"Trip..."

Summers stayed focused on Trip. "No, I can't. I've told you everything
we can do."

Jon sighed. "Trip, cool it." Not for the first time, Jon wished Trip
wasn't so excitable. "Telepaths aren't completely unknown here, either."

"Yeah, but I don't want to be near any of them!"

Jon wanted to slam his hands on the table and shout 'You mean, like
T'Pol?' but now wasn't the time to deal with another in a long line of
Vulcan secrets. "We have enough problems, let's not ask for trouble, okay?"

"Yes, Cap'n." Trip crossed his arms, looking sulky.

Why the hell had becoming a starship captain seemed like a good idea?
Jon wanted desperately to roll his eyes, but settled for turning to
Summers. "So, he started a school."

"Yes, I was one of his first students." For a moment, a nostalgic smile
passed over the man's face, but it went dark. Again, Jon had the feeling
something terrible had happened that Summers wasn't ready to share, and
Summers shook his head. "We were in the middle of recruiting a new
student when we ended up here. We were attacked by members of the mutant
opposition and I suppose that must have somehow triggered this new
ability of mine. I can only hope the prospective student we left behind
was unharmed."

"What was his mutation?"

"Hers, actually. She projected illusions. I don't know what Magneto
wants with her."

"What kinds of things do you teach at your school?" Jon asked.

"The normal things, math, science, literature. We also help the students
learn about their abilities, how to control them, how to use them."
Summers hesitated. "We train a select few in more...martial arts.

"It's not what we would choose, but the Professor and I agree it will
become more necessary to have mutants who are willing and able to
protect humanity from mutant threats. We call ourselves," a slight
smile, "the X-Men."

"For Professor Xavier."

"Yes. So far most of the students have not been allowed to join the
team, but Bobby and his girlfriend Rogue are two who have. They proved
themselves level-headed in the time after the school was attacked."

"Kitty?"

"She's in training, but not yet on the team. The only reason she was on
this mission was that it was supposed to be easy."

Jon laughed, but not out of amusement. "I know about those missions."

"I'm sure you do." Summers crossed his arms, leaning back in his chair.
"I hate putting the kids in harm's way, but there are so few of us and
so many who hate mutants. The attacks are getting worse all the time,
the legal challenges stronger, our defenders fewer."

"So, why haven't you joined this Magneto, then?" Trip sounded
belligerent and Jon shot him a warning look.

Face set and grim, Summers turned the red glasses on him. "Because the
proper response to violence is not more violence."

Trip sneered at him. "Well, tell that to the Xindi."

Summers frowned. "Who are the Xindi?"

Jon shook his head. "They're the reason this ship is so far from Earth,
but we don't know much about them. We know there are five distinct
species of Xindi and they live in this area of space, which is called
the Expanse. Less than a year ago, they sent a probe to Earth." He
couldn't go on and took refuge in a sip of his coffee.

Summers looked at Trip, whose pleasant expression had gone cold and
hard. It wasn't a good look on him, Jon thought.

"The probe..." Summers prompted.

"Killed millions of people," Jon said bluntly. "It wiped out a swathe of
Earth."

"God," Summers said. "Why?"

Jon shook his head slowly. "It's complicated. From what we can tell,
they believe humans are going to destroy their homeworld."

"But if you've never met these Xindi--"

"It's all got to do with time travel. I *hate* time travel," Jon said.

"Why would humans do that? Have you asked the Xindi?" Summers was still
in shock, Jon thought, remembering how long it had taken him to grasp
the enormity of the loss.

"Who cares? They want to wipe us out. That's pretty clear," Trip said.

"But why?" Summers frowned.

Trip snorted. "Obviously, you don't care about the millions who died.
It's not *your* Earth, is it?"

"That's not--"

"My sister died, damn it!" Trip pushed his chair back, exploding out of
it, away from the table. Jon stared, surprised to see Trip talking about
it. "Those bastards vaporized my baby sister and you want me to talk?
You don't have the faintest idea--"

"My fiancée is dead." Summers swallowed hard.

Trip spun around to stare at him, jaw dropping. "What?"

"Jean. My fiancée. She," he swallowed again, "died. In the escape after
the school was attacked."

Long silence as the two men pondered each other. Jon held his breath.

Trip was the first to speak. "I'm sorry. For Jean. And for, well, for
what I said. It's been tough."

Nodding, Scott waved Trip back to his seat. "I'm sorry to hear about
your sister."

"How did Jean die?"

Scott's jaw twitched and when he spoke, it was in a monotone. "A senior
US military official created a weapon to kill all the mutants. We
stopped him, but Magneto tried to use it to kill the humans instead. We
managed to stop that as well, but in the escape our jet was damaged."

Scott fell silent, obviously lost in the memory. "Jean was a telekinetic
and a telepath. She stopped the water from a broken dam from drowning
us, lifted the jet...and she was gone." His voice was hoarse.

"She...whoa, that's amazing." Trip's eyes were wide. "Lizzie was sweet
and kind."

"I'm sure she was."

Jon sighed. "I think we could all use a drink."

The two other men nodded and Jon rang for the steward. "Please tell Chef
I'd like to break out bottle number 2."

Trip dropped back into his seat with a sigh, fiddling with his coffee
spoon, while Summers stood and, hands in his pockets, went to stare out
at the stars. It hurt to watch the two of them, Jon thought, wounded and
angry. And if he was honest, they weren't the only ones. His own
behavior since they'd entered the Expanse had been schizophrenic, to say
the least.

The steward brought in a bottle of Southern Comfort, which got him a
brief smile from Trip. Jon waved the steward away and poured each of
them a healthy shot.

Trip leaned his arms on the table, watching the liquid in his glass;
when Jon brought a glass over, Summers thanked him and took a sip, his
mind obviously still far away.

Finally turning away from the view, Summers returned to his seat. "Tell
me more about your mission." The pain they'd seen was buttoned-down,
hidden from view again.

"We're here to find the Xindi, find the weapon we know they're building
to destroy the Earth, and stop them." It sounded impossible when he put
it that way.

"Alone?"

Trip snorted. "Our so-called allies, the Vulcans, told us it was our
problem. T'Pol told 'em to go to hell, quit her job, and came along."

"Starfleet's working on other ships," Jon said, "but it'll be months
before they're launched. We don't know if we can wait that long."

"Sounds tough."

"It's been...difficult," Jon said, grimacing at the massive
understatement. "We're working with insufficient information in
unfamiliar and dangerous territory. I'm afraid you didn't walk into an
easy situation."

"We're used to that," Summers said. "I know Logan and I can handle it, I
just wish the kids hadn't come along. I wish I knew what I did to bring
us here."

Trip drained his glass and held it out for another splash. "We'll figure
it out, promise."

"Thank you." Summers didn't sound all that pleased about depending on
someone else.

"So," Trip said, "people don't like mutants much."

Summers snorted. "Considering how you reacted to my mention of
telepathy, are you really surprised?"

Trip had the good grace to look abashed at the reminder. "Yeah, you're
right."

"Humans seem to have three responses to mutants: apathy, blind hatred,
or a desire to control our powers, use them for one purpose or another."

"That's cynical," Trip said.

"That's my life," Summers responded, his voice sharp. "Students come to
our school in conditions ranging from bad to worse--beaten by their
parents because they grew wings, attacked by mobs because they can move
things with their minds, traumatized by rejection because of
circumstances beyond their control."

Trip and Jon were silent as Summers stood and went to look out at the
stars. "I'm sorry," he said finally. "These kids are my life. Especially
since..."

Since Jean's death. The words went unspoken but they hung in the air and
Summers leaned his forehead against the clear surface in front of him.

Control them, Jon thought, staring down into the dregs of his drink.
What a seductive thought it was. These four mutants were living,
intelligent weapons: Kitty, the perfect spy and saboteur; Logan, the
ultimate soldier; Bobby, elemental power over water and ice; and Scott,
a human-shaped laser.

When he looked up, Summers was watching him. Even with the red glasses,
Jon could feel the intensity of that regard, and he suspected Summers
knew exactly what he was thinking. "So long as you are on this ship,"
Jon said, choosing his words with care, "you are under my protection.
Nobody will make you do anything you don't wish to. You have my word."

He stared at Summers' glasses, trying to see the eyes behind them,
trying to show he meant it. Beside him, Trip shifted, obviously uneasy.

"Thank you, Captain," Summers said finally. "I appreciate that."

Jon nodded. "Well, Phlox will have my head if I keep you up all ship's
night talking. Shift's almost over, so we should get you bunked down."

"It's always best to follow doctor's orders." Summers' smile looked
exhausted.

"We don't have many extra beds," Jon said, frowning at a padd on the
table, "but we've found places for you to sleep as long as you don't
mind being separated."

"I'd prefer we were together, mainly for the kids, but I understand."

"If it helps, we've set up the comm system to recognize you and you can
contact each other anywhere on the ship. Computer access is restricted,
but you should be able to view historical and entertainment features."

Summers nodded. "Thank you. You're being remarkably kind to four intruders."

Jon didn't respond immediately, thinking about how young Summers was. It
was easy to forget since he was in charge, but he was so very very
young. "We put you in the brig. That's kind?"

A grin flashed across his face for an instant, lighting it. "*Everyone*
puts us in jail. Most don't intend to let us out."

Shaking his head, Jon waved at the door. "Let's gather the troops and
get everyone assigned to a room."

* * * * *

Kitty looked thrilled when informed she'd be bunking with Hoshi Sato,
and Scott was happy to see the ship's linguist appeared equally pleased
with the arrangement. The two disappeared out the door, words like "ice
cream" and "movie" wafting back before the door shut behind them.

One of the marines (MACOs, they called them) claimed Logan, insisting
there was a free bunk in their area, and some kind of sparring match was
already in the works from what Scott could hear. He shook his head,
hoping Logan wouldn't hurt anyone too badly.

A dark-haired crewman named Rostov grinned at Bobby. "You're stuck with
me. I'm not as good-looking as Ensign Sato, though."

Bobby blushed. "I've got a girlfriend anyway."

"Really? Okay, you get to tell me about her while we steal some of the
ladies' ice cream."

Scott was pleased--it seemed his team was settling in rather nicely. He
turned to say as much to the captain, but caught a scowl on Lt. Reed's
face. Reed noticed him watching and blanked the scowl to something more
neutral. They eyed each other and Scott wondered if he was supposed to
fight or roll over and expose his throat.

The moment was broken when the captain grinned at both of them. "Well,
now that we've got that settled, I've got to get down to engineering and
take a look at those upgrades Trip wants me to see." He was gone rather
faster than a human should be able to move.

"But..."

"You'll be staying with me," Reed said, the scowl back.

"Great." Scott scowled himself, realizing the captain had abandoned them
for a reason. The most annoying thing was that it was the kind of thing
*he* might have done in a similar circumstance.

"When I expressed my reservations about allowing you free rein of the
ship, Captain Archer said that if I was so concerned, I should put you
where I could keep an eye on you. He insisted. Ordered, in fact."

"Your captain's sense of humor--"

"Leaves a little to be desired. I know."

"Well, you don't trust me and I don't like you, so I'd say we understand
each other."

"True."

--continued in part 3--

TITLE: Fortunate Voyager
AUTHOR: Mara Greengrass

Other headings and disclaimers in part 1

* * * * *

Although he knew he should probably check on the others first, Scott lay
on the bunk Reed showed him, closing his eyes and wishing...wishing for
something he couldn't quite articulate. Maybe it was security. Or peace.
Or a leggy red-head who drank too much coffee.

He removed his glasses and put on his visor--not the most comfortable
thing to sleep in, but less likely to slip off and cause him to put a
hole in the ship. Too bad he hadn't been carrying his night goggles
along with glasses and visor.

Perhaps the engineers could make something...make something comfortable,
so he could sleep. Sleep.

Scott slept.

* * * * *

When the blaring alarm startled Scott out of restless sleep, his first
instinct was to reach for the visor on his nightstand. A flailing hand
met nothing but air and his eyes shot open when he realized he was
already wearing the visor.

"Jean, what's happ--" Like a kick to the groin, memories hit him,
leaving nausea in their wake. No Jean. No school. Outer space.

Reed wasn't there. The alarm obviously meant something serious was
happening, but Scott was reluctant to dash out without a better idea
what had gone wrong.

He tried the communication system, but it was shut down, and the
computer didn't allow him sufficient access, leaving reconnaissance the
only option.

Breathing deeply, he hit the button to open the door but nothing
happened. Curiouser and curiouser. He could blast through it, he was
certain, but that might be fatal to whoever was on the other side,
friend or foe.

Had the captain found some reason to distrust him? Were guards on their
way? Or was some outside force at work? He cursed the impulse that
allowed his team to separate. They should have slept in the brig if
necessary. How the hell was he supposed to protect them if he didn't
even know where they were?

A sound behind him and he whirled, hand to his visor. Kitty scrambled
through the wall, holding onto the comm officer, Ensign Sato, whose eyes
were wide. "Mr. Summers!"

"What's going on?"

"The ship's been boarded by Xindi," Sato said, breathing hard. "Captain
Archer managed to comm a few of us before the bridge was taken. He, the
first officer, and the chief engineer were all there. Lieutenant Reed is
somewhere down in the armory, but we got cut off when the intruders took
out the comms."

"Can you find Bobby and Logan and get us to the armory? We can't do much
good from here."

Sato nodded after a sharp glance at him, but she seemed willing to
accept his leadership. "Bobby's no problem since he's probably in
Michael's quarters, but Logan's with the MACOs and they could be any
number of places."

"Okay, only Bobby then. Logan can take care of himself anyway."

"Then let's go."

"Ready?" He looked and Kitty and she nodded, taking their hands. "Which
way?"

Sato thought for a second and pointed.

With a feeling that he could see the molecular structure of the ship's
walls, Scott followed the two women, trying to remember what little he'd
seen of the ship's layout and weaponry.

* * * * *

When they dropped through the ceiling into Rostov's quarters, they found
Bobby pacing back and forth. His face lit up. "There you are! Michael
left for engineering a few minutes ago, then the alarm went off."

"Grab hold," Scott said, and with that they were on their way again.

The sound of energy weapons was incredibly noisy in the confined
quarters of the ship--a whine like a million mosquitos and crickets
combined with the shouts of the ship's human defenders. With instincts
that Scott was pleased to see, Kitty dragged them sideways into a room.
The startled occupant looked up from an open panel. "Hoshi?"

Sato grinned. "Hey, Alison. Would you like a lift to the armory?"

Grinning fiercely in return, she jumped up and took Bobby's hand. "Hey,
even we engineers can shoot if we have to. I was getting ready to take a
chance on the conduits, but I think I like your way better."

They plunged through a dizzying series of walls, corridors, and floors.
Scott let his spatial sense map out their path while he kept an eye on
Kitty; he was worried she'd tire, but adrenaline kept her bright-eyed
and energetic.

Through another gray wall and Sato grinned. "Straight down, but be ready
for Malcolm to shoot at us." And they were sinking, dropping to the
floor of the armory, where ten weapons were instantly trained on them.

"Freeze," Reed shouted.

"We're here to help," Sato said.

"Them?" He stared.

"Yes, them."

Reed seemed about to refuse, but one of the marines stepped forward.
"Lieutenant, it'd be mighty handy to have a girl who can walk through
walls and a guy with laser eyes."

Scott decided this might not be the best time to correct misconceptions
about his mutation.

"Major Hawkins is right," another marine said. "After all, Logan's been
damn helpful so far."

"Logan? Where is he?" Scott looked around the room, but saw only
grim-faced marines and other members of the crew.

"He and a couple of the guys are doing a little scouting around
engineering. Lieutenant, he got hit by that Xindi weapon and got right
back up!"

A small access point at the far end of the room swung open and the
weapons turned that way, relaxing when Logan and several soldiers jumped
out.

"What's the situation?" Reed asked.

"Engineering's locked down. The bastards haven't gotten in yet, but
they're getting close." The soldier continued to give his report and
Logan trotted over to Scott.

"Ugly," he said, a snarl hovering on his lips. "But they die when you
cut them."

Scott nodded, already tuning in to the conversation. Reed had a map of
the ship up, pointing out where he wanted troops to go. Sighing at the
necessity, Scott called, "What about us?"

Reed twisted halfway around. "I want you to stay out of this."

Scott had already picked out his target and with a quick flick of his
visor, he blasted a stool halfway across the room, people leaping out of
its way. "I can do a lot more than that. Let me help."

"Let *us* help," Bobby said.

Scott shot him a look, and was about to tell him no, but from the look
on his face and Kitty's, that would be a struggle he'd lose, along with
valuable time.

He couldn't call Reed indecisive either. "Fine, you're all with me.
Gomez, Chen, join Hawkins. The rest of you know what to do. Go."

"What are *we* doing?" Kitty asked.

Reed looked at her and looked at Scott. "If you're sure..."

Bobby stood up straight and tried to look like an adult. "We're not
waiting here!"

Scott grinned quickly, a well of pride in his chest. "But I want the two
of you to stay intangible as much as possible, okay?" They nodded and he
looked at Reed. "They're with us."

"Good, then we're going to take back the bridge. I've spent a lot of
time training Captain Archer. I'd hate for it to go to waste."

* * * * *

The deck was cold under Jon's knees as he knelt, but not nearly as cold
as his anger at the reptilian Xindi who sat in his chair, his splotchy,
bumpy face contorted into an amused snarl. The Xindi who'd casually
backhanded Trip into a bulkhead when he'd refused to lock down the
ship's doors. The one who'd shot Ensign Tanner from the armory, who'd
tried to defend the bridge.

  From where he knelt, a hard hand against the back of his neck, Jon was
pretty sure he could see both Trip and Tanner breathing. Elsewhere, he
knew the crew was fighting, because the reports coming in to the Xindi
commander said so. His eyes widened at the reports of a man with claws.
Jon hoped the visitors from another Earth weren't going to get
themselves killed in *his* fight.

"I have not been able to break the final codes," the Xindi at the
science console said.

"Then perhaps," the commander said, "It is time we convinced these
humans to help." He stepped over to where Trip lay and lifted him up
like a rag doll. "Would you miss this one? Or perhaps that one over
there?" He pointed at T'Pol, whose face didn't change.

Breathing gone shallow, Jon couldn't respond, couldn't move. He had to
wait, to stall, but his mind was blank. Hurry, Malcolm, he thought.

* * * * *

Reed eyed the mutants as the rest of the security team dispersed. Scott
could detect a hint of amusement when all of them studied him back.

Reed tapped a few commands into a handheld device. "We'll use your
ability to go through walls to put us right behind the bridge. These are
the schematics."

Scott held the display so the other three could see.

"Here's what we're going to do..."

* * * * *

Trip's head lolled forward, a puppet held by a malevolent puppeteer.
Short sharp breaths escaped Jon as he stared at his friend. T'Pol was
silent, but he knew what she or Trip would be telling him.

There was no possible response to the Xindi, so he stared at the
commander, despair burning his heart. He wanted to close his eyes but
that would be a betrayal. He held his breath as the Xindi growled,
holding a weapon to Trip's head.

The bridge seemed to explode with simultaneous action. A thin, red beam
smashed into the weapon pointed at Trip's head, followed by one that
threw the Xindi and Trip against the wall. Before anyone could respond,
Malcolm was there, shooting Xindi with surgical precision.

Two hapless Xindi standing in front of the captain's chair were
practically skewered by Logan, claws out and a full-throated roar coming
from his chest.

Struggling upright, the Xindi commander reached for another weapon
strapped to his chest, but before it cleared its casing, it was covered
in a thick layer of ice.

Dazed, Jon watched Kitty blithely running through weapons aimed at her,
which then refused to fire. Streams of ice flew from Bobby's hand to
smash a Xindi who tried to attack with just his hands.

It was all over so fast he barely had time to catch his breath. While
Scott and Bobby kept an eye on the unconscious Xindi, Malcolm hurried
over to him, glancing down at the manacles that held his wrists. "Logan?"

The sound of metal grating on metal, and one claw came out of the man's
knuckles. More delicately than Jon might have imagined, Logan used the
claw to slice off his handcuffs.

Over Malcolm's shoulder, Jon could see Trip slowly sitting up with
Kitty's assistance. She dabbed at several wounds, but Jon saw none that
looked especially serious.

  From that point, retaking the ship was almost anticlimactic. Before Jon
was even standing upright, Malcolm and T'Pol were receiving reports from
all over the ship. "Sir, engineering has been secured by my team."

"Good."

"There's still a great deal of hand-to-hand combat in the corridors, but
we've got them on the run." Malcolm snapped several orders into a
communicator and Jon took the opportunity to turn toward the visitors,
who were standing guard over the Xindi that had been on the bridge.

"Thank you," he said to Summers.

"It's not done," Logan said. "They're still out there."

Summers looked at Jon, his expression long-suffering. "Captain, with
your permission, I think my associate here would like to go hit some
more Xindi."

Jon glanced at Malcolm, who nodded. "Far be it from me to prevent
someone from hitting Xindi on my ship."

Logan and Malcolm went into a huddle over a map and Jon turned to T'Pol.
"Sub-commander?"

"I am well, Captain. There is some damage to sensors, but I believe I am
detecting approximately 50 Xindi on Enterprise and another 100 on their
own ship."

"We've neutralized at least 40 of those that are here," Malcolm said as
Logan dropped into a Jeffries tube toward the lower decks.

"What next, Malcolm?"

"Sir, we should--" His eyes snapped back to the display in front of him.
"They're retreating."

Everyone looked up from their tasks.

"Good," Jon said, sighing. "Right now that's good enough. Get our people
out of their way. I don't want anyone killed while the enemy is leaving."

"Aye, sir."

Malcolm issued quiet orders and Jon turned to T'Pol. "Get me a damage
report as soon as possible. And get someone up here to guard these pris--"

A yelp from Kitty made Jon's heart jump as he whirled. She and the other
mutants stared in surprise at the empty space that had formerly held the
highest-ranking Xindi.

"Damn!" Malcolm growled. "Matter transporter. Figures their captain
would have an out."

Jon sank down in his chair, weary from head to toe.

"A message incoming from the Xindi ship," T'Pol said, her voice an oasis
of calm.

Looking automatically for Hoshi at her station, Jon caught himself.
"Let's see it."

"Audio only, Captain."

A hissing sound filled the bridge until T'Pol had compensated. "Humans.
You may think you have won, but you are wrong. We will be back again and
again until your entire species is destroyed."

Silence, punctured only by the sounds of a repair crew.

"Ah, that's what they always say," Scott said.

All eyes turned to stare at him, disbelief on every face until they saw
the small grin. Despite himself, Jon snorted out a laugh. Kitty and
Bobby laughed so hard they had to sit down, their humor tinged with
hysteria and adrenaline. Gradually, everyone else joined in, except
T'Pol who steadfastly ignored them.

* * * * *

Jon looked around the conference room table at his senior staff. "Concerns?"

"They're dangerous, Captain," Malcolm said with a frown. "More dangerous
than we'd guessed."

"They saved the ship!" Hoshi glared at Malcolm. "They risked their lives
to protect us."

T'Pol looked up from her padd. "They acted to protect themselves as
well, Ensign."

"Their actions don't necessarily prove anything," Trip said with a sigh.

With all due respect, sir, I must disagree." Travis lifted his chin.
"They could have taken our ship before this. They could have hidden and
waited for us to retake the ship. They put themselves in danger to save
the lives of our crew."

Jon nodded slowly. "I think they have redeemed the trust I placed in them."

"I agree," Malcolm said.

There was a long pause as every head turned to stare at him. Even
T'Pol's eyes widened slightly.

"What did you say?" Trip asked, each word distinct and the expression on
his face displaying a clear message: Who are you and what have you done
with Malcolm Reed?

Malcolm's eyebrows rose and he seemed puzzled as he looked around the
room. "I only said they were dangerous. I didn't say they couldn't be
trusted."

Jon felt his lips twitch and he tried not to laugh aloud. Trip shook his
head in disgust and T'Pol had her 'I will never understand humans' face on.

"Well, then," Jon said, "other concerns?" He looked at Trip and T'Pol.

Trip shrugged. "I think they're okay, Cap'n. They came by accident, far
as we can tell."

"T'Pol?"

"It would not be logical for me to overrule Mr. Reed's professional
opinion," she said.

"Not the most ringing endorsement I've ever heard," Jon said.

"Captain?"

"Never mind. Hoshi, any luck in contacting Admiral Forrest?"

"No, sir. Too much interference."

"Okay. They don't get total access to the ship, but we'll remove some of
the restrictions. Access to the armory and engineering should be under
supervision."

Nods around the table and Jon took a breath. "Back to work, everyone.
We've still got Xindi to track."

* * * * *

Jon found all four mutants in the mess hall. They looked up as he
approached, expressions revealing--Logan fiercely protective, Kitty
worried, Bobby frightened but trying to look tough, and Summers, even
his blank face had cracked slightly to show concern.

"Join me in the captain's dining room?"

The kids still looked worried, but Logan and Summers relaxed at the
phrasing of a question rather than an order. No question those two were
sharp.

Everyone settled around the table and Jon sat at the end, choosing his
words with care. "Let me begin by allaying any fears you might have. We
have not changed our minds about offering you safe harbor."

"Thank you," Summers said. "As you can imagine, we were concerned."

"I understand. Knowing what you four can do and seeing it, well, they're
too different things." Jon looked at the ceiling. "I think I also see
why people on your world are so worried."

Logan snorted and Summers shot him an indecipherable look.

"But we helped," Kitty said, looking at the adults for reassurance.

Jon sighed. "I know, but it's a question of human nature--no pun intended."

Bobby choked back a snort of laughter and Logan grinned at him.

"I don't get it." Kitty's voice was very small.

Jon looked at Summers and Logan, neither of whom looked inclined to
answer. "It's hard," he said, feeling his way, "for most people to
believe that you wouldn't use your abilities to do wrong."

"That's not fair!"

"I know," Jon said.

"How do we convince them?" Bobby asked.

Summers looked at the boy. "We keep doing what we've been doing. We set
an example. We fight the legislation as it comes. We stop Magneto."

The kids seemed satisfied with that, but Logan looked away. For that
matter, Jon thought, Summers didn't sound all that convinced by his own
words. Although, with the death of his fiancée and the events he'd
described, who would blame him?

"Captain?"

"Hmm?" He looked at Summers.

"How will your crew react to us? Should we be concerned?"

"Good question." Tapping his fingers on the table, Jon considered it
with the seriousness it deserved. "There may be a few who avoid you, but
my crew is unusual. We've been places and seen things most of humanity
can't even imagine yet. I think your defense of this ship should be good
enough for most. I think you'll find you're welcome here."

Logan looked about to say something, but Summers caught his attention.
They didn't speak, but an entire conversation seemed to flash by. Jon
glanced at Kitty and Bobby, but since they didn't look worried, he
assumed it was normal behavior.

"Thank you," Summers said after a moment.

"If you have no other questions, I still have repairs to supervise."

"That was the most important thing," Summers said.

Rising from the table, Jon nodded at all four visitors. "I'm sorry your
introduction to this century has been so stressful. I hope things calm
down."

* * * * *

Scott was frustrated he couldn't do anything to help repair the ship,
but one look at the innards of a bulkhead and he knew he was out of his
league. He gravitated to sickbay, where he found, to his pleasure, that
he could understand some of what went on there.

"Medical technology has evolved," Phlox said as he showed Scott how to
use a dermal regenerator, "but the basic principles remain the same.
You'll do fine."

Logan was off guarding the prisoners and trading war stories, and Hoshi
had taken the kids off to wind down. But Scott couldn't quite relax, so
he scanned and set bones and cleaned wounds. Finally, the last patient
was healed and either sent to their quarters or bedded down in sickbay.
Phlox cleaned his hands, looking pleased, and Scott leaned against a
wall, yawning.

"My fiancée was a doctor," he said, staring at the opposite wall with
its hypnotic display of twisting and twining DNA strands.

"Oh?"

"She was brilliant, she was learning all about mutations, but she was
always ready to stop and put a bandage on one of the kids." His face
felt like it was on fire and when he looked over, Phlox was waiting.
"Jean would have loved to talk to you about medicine, see your equipment."

Phlox smiled.

Why did he feel the need to talk about her now? Since her death, he'd
barely said her name, but there was something freeing about this place
where only his three teammates knew her, and the locals didn't feel any
guilt over her death.

"I miss Jean so much," he said quietly.

Phlox nodded. "If one of my wives died, I would be saddened. As it is,
being without them is the hardest thing about being on the Enterprise."

Distracted, Scott had to wonder if he'd heard correctly. "Wives?"

"Yes, I have three. Each of whom have other husbands, so at least they
are not lonely while I'm gone. It is really a most sensible system."

"I'm...sure." For a moment, Scott had a dizzying vision of being married
to Ororo and Jean and another woman, who were also married to Logan and...

That was when his brain imploded and he shook his head.

"But it's not for every species," Phlox added.

"Mmmm."

Silence fell again, broken only by the background hum of the machines
attached to each bed. Scott crossed his arms and watched the rise and
fall of the nearest crewman's chest. He felt close to Jean here, in this
place of healing she would have enjoyed so much.

* * * * *

Battle over and repairs underway, Jon indulged himself. Late in ship's
night, when the mess hall was mostly empty, he sipped a glass of
whiskey, staring at the stars streaming by. Certainly, he could have
done so in his quarters or the captain's mess, but he'd developed this
habit early on and kept on with it. Somehow, drinking in public wasn't
quite as depressing as drinking in private, even if nobody was drinking
with him.

Perhaps the logic was a bit circular, but it worked well enough.

Jon stared into his glass, trying to sort through everything that had
happened recently. The liquid held just as few answers as always.

Another Xindi attack. Thankfully, there'd been no new deaths, but there
were some serious injuries. Trip was alive, no thanks to anything he'd
done. If not for their visitors, there was no telling if Malcolm would
have arrived in time.

What the hell were they doing out here anyway? They were turning into
creatures just as bad as the Xindi. Hell, who was he kidding? *He* was
turning into someone just as bad as the Xindi. Could they ever return to
Earth? What would the rest of the world think of whatever they had to do
to make the mission succeed?

What was happening to them?

Behind him, the hiss of the opening door surprised him. He craned his
head, eyebrows going up when he saw Logan paused in the doorway, looking
hesitant.

"Captain."

"Logan." Jon glanced at his bottle. "Join me?"

That netted him a slight grin as Logan snagged a glass and sat down
across the small table from him. Jon poured a good-sized slosh in and
Logan nodded his thanks, leaning back.

"Good stuff," he said after tasting it.

"I figured if I was lugging it this far, it'd better be good."

Logan grunted and settled back in his chair, staring out at the stars,
his expression nearly as unreadable as his leader's.

Jon went back to sipping, watching Logan out of the corner of his eye.
It was odd to sit so comfortably with him, even as part of his brain
screamed that the man was incredibly dangerous.

Summers hadn't said that much about Logan, other than mentioning his
healing ability and how the government had coated his bones in some kind
of metal which had Trip and T'Pol spending hours poring over samples.
Malcolm agreed with Jon's assessment that Logan was ex-military and had
been trained as a killer, possibly even some kind of special forces. The
MACOs showed him the kind of deference that Malcolm would have
appreciated receiving, so presumably they knew something everyone else
didn't.

It was obvious to anyone with eyes or ears that Summers and Logan didn't
like each other one bit; nevertheless, Logan followed Summers, equally
obviously respecting him as a leader, and Summers trusted Logan on his
team, giving him assignments and assuming they'd be done.

Logan was a killer. Or at least he had been.

Summers had to know that. Professor Xavier, the telepath, had to know
that. But Logan was still a part of the team, and a trusted one if he'd
been sent as one of two adults to recruit a new student to the school.

Logan had found his place, even after doing...whatever it was he'd done.
For whatever reason, he'd dedicated himself to Xavier's attempts at
peaceful coexistence and he'd been accepted.

"Something wrong?" Logan glanced at him over the rim of the glass.

Jon shook his head. "Just thinking."

"I figured you were drinking in order to stop thinking for a while."

"Yeah." Jon poured himself another few fingers. "I guess I was."

Logan studied him for a second and then went back to staring out at the
stars. "Don't think, then."

"Is it that easy?"

"Sometimes."

"Then I'll try."

Jon sipped the whiskey and tried not to think about anything. Except
maybe that there was hope for Enterprise's crew after all.

* * * * *

The kids settled into shipboard routine with ease and Scott was amazed,
as always, by how adaptable his students were. Kitty became the darling
of the comm crew, who taught her linguistics and electronics. She could
nearly always be found with her head bent over a console while someone
showed her some new trick or technique.

Scott made a mental note to get her more computer training
if--when--they got home.

Bobby was nearly adopted by the engineering crew and spent much of his
time climbing through the maintenance tunnels. He wasn't picking up
quite as much engineering as Kitty was programming, but Scott was sure
he was learning something--if only the importance of education.

Logan, of course, was an honorary marine, MACO, whatever, before their
first full day was done. It had become a mutual admiration society down
there, cemented by their joint love of a good scrap and dislike of one
Malcolm Reed, chief armory officer.

The armory crew and the MACOs didn't seem to like each other very much,
apparently all part of a turf war set off when the Enterprise's mission
switched from peaceful exploration to near-war. And while Logan and Reed
had come to some sort of understanding while fending off the attack,
they hadn't precisely become best buddies.

Everyone else was settled in, but Scott found himself at a loss. What
was a math teacher and leader of a team of mutants supposed to do on a
Starfleet ship? He often ate with the captain and they had many an
illuminating conversation about the nature of leadership. Sometimes
Sub-commander T'Pol allowed him to observe her work, and that was
probably his favorite thing; he'd always enjoyed astronomy and now he
was seeing up close and personal things he'd only read about in Sky and
Telescope.

But he couldn't follow either of them around like a puppy, so he found
himself spending more and more time reading--Earth history, Vulcan
history, whatever he could dig up in the computer.

Leaning back in the seat in his temporary quarters, he glanced at the
time. Reed would be getting off duty soon, so it was probably a good
time to take off. Although their initial dislike had faded, they weren't
exactly comfortable with each other either. When was the last time he'd
eaten, anyway?

Not for the first time, Scott found himself uncomfortable with the total
separation from the natural cycles of day and night on Earth. He
shrugged. Probably a result of his mutation's connection to sunlight, he
supposed, and why he felt better when undergoing his doctor-mandated UV
therapy.

Closing down the latest article on Khan Noonien Singh, he stretched,
feeling his back pop, then wandered to the mess hall.

He sat in a corner, toying with a plate of spaghetti. Various
crewmembers nodded to him as they ducked in for a cup of coffee or a
sandwich, but seemed to sense his desire to be alone. They probably had
a great deal of practice at figuring that out about their crewmates.

Two figures came in, not paying attention to their surroundings, and
hovered over the desserts for several minutes before making their
selection. Kitty grinned up at Hoshi, saying something that Scott didn't
catch.

Plates in hand, they sat down, still oblivious, and talked. Scott smiled
as he watched them, happy to see Kitty with a female role model. Those
were in short supply at the school.

He only caught occasional words, but they seemed to be covering a wide
variety of topics, from boys to nanotechnology, best friends to
electronics. Other crewwomen stopped now and then to talk to them,
weighing in on the topic at hand.

So engrossed was Scott, he failed to notice the figure approaching
*him*, until someone spoke.

"Mr. Summers?"

"Hmm?" He looked up to find Sub-commander T'Pol, holding a cup of tea.
"Oh, hello. Would you care to join me?"

"Thank you." She sat, the steaming mug emitting a vaguely familiar scent.

Scott took a bite of his spaghetti, finding himself oddly comfortable
with this alien woman--probably because he knew she wasn't bothered by
silence. That was hard to find.

T'Pol surprised him. "May I ask you a question?"

"Certainly." Scott found himself intrigued what question she might have
that couldn't be asked while researching their arrival and his mutation.

"It is difficult to find the right phrasing." She sipped her tea, then
looked him in the eye. "I am curious about your shielding and where you
acquired it."

For a moment, Scott had a vision of body armor, before he realized what
she meant. "Oh! You mean my mental shields."

"Yes." T'Pol inclined her head. "It is not common knowledge, but Vulcans
have some telepathic abilities."

  From the way she said it, Scott got the idea 'not common knowledge'
meant something more like 'state secret.' "Not the kind of thing
everyone needs to know, I would think."

She nodded. "Yes. I have noticed that your students have rudimentary
shields better than many on Enterprise, your other teammate's shielding
is erratic but strong, and yours is...exemplary. This was unexpected."

Scott looked down at his plate, remembering hours spent training with
Jean and the Professor, games they would play to teach him to keep them
out when they weren't wanted. "Professor Xavier is an extremely strong
telepath and my fiancée was...a telepath and telekinetic."

"I was not aware of that."

"I've trained for years to keep up shields at all times, both to protect
from an enemy and also for their comfort. We teach the children the same."

"As we do on Vulcan. It is restful to encounter humans who do not
intrude upon my mind."

He smiled, stirring the spaghetti. "Jean--my fiancée--used to say
similar things. She loved coming back to the school because it might be
noisier to her ears, but it was quieter to her mind."

"I understand." T'Pol sipped her tea. "The noise can be overwhelming on
occasion, even through my own shields."

Scott nodded, wondering what Jean would have made of T'Pol. He rather
thought she'd have liked her.

--continued in part 4--

TITLE: Fortunate Voyager
AUTHOR: Mara Greengrass

Other headings and disclaimers in part 1

* * * * *

The ship seemed to take a breath and then red lights flashed and a
blaring siren wailed, feeling like nails piercing his skull. "Not
again!" Scott growled as he jumped out of the way of running crewmen.

Turning once in a circle, Scott found his direction and took off for the
armory, pausing only for a moment to step aside and replace his glasses
with the visor he'd taken to carrying. He had to hope that the other
three would think to go there as well.

A dive left through closing elevator doors caused him to nearly run into
two marines, who fortunately chose not to say anything about his
presence, simply nodding as one hit the emergency setting that overrode
the normal speed limitations and made it a very express elevator.

Scott swallowed sharply and held onto the wall as they dove downward to
the armory level. The doors opened and they jumped out, nearly mowing
down Bobby jogging down the hall.

The marines disappeared toward heavy weaponry as Bobby sighed in relief.
"Mr. Summers!"

"Good thinking to come here," Scott said. "Let's go--"

The whining sound of alien gunfire erupted and Scott shoved Bobby behind
him, swiveling, hand to his visor.

"Go!" Scott yelled.

"But I--"

A Xindi marched around the corner, bold and unafraid. Scott shot him
square in the chest, amused at his look of surprise as he flew back to
slam against the wall.

Two more leaned out, more cautious than their teammate and as Scott
blasted one's arm, he saw the other pinned by ice. "Get to the armory. Now!"

Finally hearing Bobby run, Scott put as much of himself behind a strut
as he could and shot anything that didn't look like Enterprise crew.
Shots whined over his head and skinned so close to his arm he felt their
passage.

Scott heard the elevator door open and he turned, in time to see the end
of a gun slam into his head.

Everything went pale, then black.

* * * * *

Scott drifted back to consciousness, dragged the last few yards by a
pounding headache. He tried to rub his forehead, but found his arms
bound to the hard surface he lay on. Not a good sign.

Eyes still closed, he strained for some clue to his whereabouts. It
neither sounded nor smelled like the Enterprise's sickbay.

My god. What if he'd somehow shifted himself again? What if he'd left
the others behind with no way to get home?

Scott tried to breathe deeply and calm his racing heart. Time enough to
panic when he knew the situation.

Voices. Definitely voices approaching.

"...bring me one?" A harsh voice growled.

"The others evaded us. We only caught this one because he was protecting
one of the young humans."

Scott let out a slow breath. So, same universe and the others were safe.
That was certainly good news. Of course, that left *him* in the clutches
of what were presumably reptilian Xindi. Not so good.

Nearby, there was a clanking sound that reminded Scott of bad prison
movies. He weighed mental odds before opening his eyes to see two Xindi
staring down at him, one tall and angry-looking, the other shorter and
carrying some kind of weapon. They were both the ugliest things he'd
ever seen, their faces looking more like a bad case of leprosy than
anything else.

"Human," the taller one said. It sounded like a curse.

"Yes, I am," Scott said, finding a speck of amusement in the irony.

The Xindi began to prowl while the other stood by the door. "What
happens if I take off your eyepieces?"

"Your ship develops a nasty leakage problem."

More pacing. "Fascinating."

Scott studied what he could of his prison. It looked pretty effective,
especially with no hands free. No control over his optic blasts left
very few options. Besides, even if he got out of the room, where was he
going to go?

"What is the source of your power?"

Scott recited the Pledge of Allegiance, "The Road Not Taken," and was
starting in on "Stairway to Heaven" when the Xindi slammed a fist into
his stomach. "Tell me!"

Choking and gasping for breath, Scott's body tried to curl into a
protective ball, but was prevented by his bonds. "No," he choked out
after a few moments.

"You will tell us. Then you will describe the human plan to attack the
Xindi homeworld."

"I don't know any plans," Scott said. "Even if I *wanted* to tell you, I
couldn't." No chance he'd be believed, of course, but one had to try.

"You lie. Just like all humans lie." The Xindi grabbed his chin, forcing
Scott to look at him. "You are alone here. And you *will* tell what we
need to know."

Behind his glasses, Scott closed his eyes.

* * * * *

Logan's pacing was starting to make Jon nervous--the man looked more
dangerous every minute.

"Sit *down*," Jon said, emulating the tone Summers had taken in Sickbay.

Logan stopped in his tracks and turned to look at him, face twisted in
the beginning of a snarl. The rest of the room's occupants held their
breath, except Malcolm, whose hand was on a phase pistol.

Logan held his eyes for a long moment, but finally his face relaxed and
he sat down next to Bobby around the conference table. Jon took a moment
to mentally thank the Vulcans for all those hours spent in diplomatic
staring matches.

"Now that I've heard your damage reports, what are our options?"

"Leave Mr. Summers where he is," T'Pol said.

All three visitors started to shout, but stopped when Jon held up a
hand. "Is that the option you plan to recommend, Sub-commander?"

"Unlikely, Captain. But it *is* an option."

"Thank you. Next?"

* * * * *

Scott opened and closed his jaws a few times, relieved to find nothing
broken, just sore. Actually, he was hard-pressed to find a part of
himself that didn't ache.

The Xindi doctor/scientist/chief torturer looked pleased with himself,
which Scott assumed was bad.

"I believe I begin to understand."

"Explain," the Xindi captain said.

"This one's genome is different than the other humans we've examined. It
appears to be some kind of genetic manipulation. If we had the others, I
could get a better idea which differences are important."

The doctor put down the electronic notepad he'd been studying and picked
up another piece of equipment.

It was involuntary--Scott winced. He'd become rather more intimate with
the tissue sampler than he'd have preferred. He suspected it was
intended to be used with an anesthetic.

The Xindi jammed it into his thigh and Scott threw his head back,
gritting his teeth at the pain, like someone scraping out his insides
with a dull spoon.

Blood oozed out when the sampler was removed, trickling down to join one
of several puddles on the table.

Scott took three slow breaths before he could unclench his jaw.
Struggling not to pant, he opened his eyes again.

"I must take this back to my lab for further testing." Picking up his
samples, the doctor turned. "Oh, Captain? Don't kill him yet. It's so
much harder to extract data from dying cells."

"Don't worry, I'm not done with him."

As the door swished shut behind the doctor, the captain squeezed Scott's
leg where the sampler had been. Scott gasped as the pain rocketed up his
leg.

"I don't know anything about Enterprise's plans," he managed to croak
out. "It doesn't matter how much you hurt me, I still won't know."

"Why don't I believe you?"

"Because you're a stubborn fool at war with humans even though we've
done nothing to harm you."

The captain's hand felt like a brick as it slammed his face to the right
and Scott felt more blood flow down his cheek.

"Where is your ship going?"

"I don't know."

"What weaponry does it carry?"

"Whatever they shot at you with, I'd imagine."

"Why do you want to destroy our homeworld?"

"We don't! Earth had never even heard of you before you attacked."

This time, the blow plunged Scott into blissful oblivion.

* * * * *

Vibration drew Scott from his unconscious state. For a moment, he
thought it was some new torture technique, until he realized the entire
room was shaking like a tilt-a-whirl.

He tried to develop a plan to use this to his advantage, but was
distracted by jostling, each movement drawing painfully on another
wound. Besides, almost any *good* escape plan required at least the use
of one hand. He'd prefer not blowing a hole in the vessel that was
providing his oxygen supply, although...

The table dropped out from under him, making his stomach roll. A hard
twist to the left stretched abused muscles and Scott groaned, his vision
whiting out. He could feel blood trickling from reopened wounds, warm
and sticky on his skin.

Eyes closed, he tried to focus through the pain. When the door to his
cell opened, he cursed under his breath.

"Bloody hell," a familiar British voice said softly.

Scott opened his eyes to see Captain Archer and Lt. Reed cutting away
his bonds. Speechless for a second, he finally managed to say, "What
took you so long?" as the captain helped him sit up.

"You know how it is," Archer said, smiling broadly, "places to go,
things to do."

"Mmm." Scott grinned, but choked when he tried to put pressure on his
left leg. "Down to one leg."

Archer sobered. "Okay." He threw Scott's arm over his shoulder. "We'll
do it the hard way, then. Malcolm, let's go."

They staggered out the door, where they found Logan and one of the
Marines. Hayes, Scott vaguely remembered the man's name was. Logan
looked relieved to see him, which gave Scott a moment of amusement
before he realized he was the man's ticket home. Oh well.

"Don't wander off again, Cyclops," Logan said, pacing alongside them as
they staggered down the lurching hallway. "I can't track you in space."

"I'll try to stay put." He bit back a curse as a sudden movement made
him lean on the injured left leg. "What did you do to this ship?"

Reed didn't turn, but in profile, Scott could see him looking smug.
"It's a little trick I've been saving up for such an occasion,
exploiting a flaw in the Xindi ship design. They're going to be busy
fixing their engine for a few hours yet."

"Nice."

"Thank you."

Hayes glared at all of them, and they shut up as he leaned around a
corner then motioned them forward. Scott found it required all his
energy to stay upright and he hoped fervently he wouldn't have to defend
himself in any way.

They staggered down another corridor and questions started to occur to
Scott. "You didn't dock with this ship, did you?" he whispered.

"Of course not." Reed looked offended at the very suggestion.

"Then how are we getting out?"

"You ever been through a matter transmitter?" Archer asked as he and
Scott limped up the step onto a platform.

"What?" Scott raised his head. Then everything dissolved into sparkles.
He had a vague memory of voices and he collapsed.

* * * * *

Scott decided he was incredibly tired of coming back to consciousness in
bizarre circumstances. Really, the novelty had completely worn off and
his life could go back to normal any day now. Whatever normal was. Never
mind.

A quick physical evaluation showed vast improvement over what he last
remembered and the smells were right this time, so he opened his eyes,
relieved.

"Mr. Summers!" Bobby looked up from a screen and grinned at him.

Phlox bustled over before Scott could marshal enough brainpower to
respond. "Ah, Mr. Summers, good to see you awake."

"Mmm. Good to be awake. Do I get a frequent visitor's card now?"

"Absolutely. But I really would prefer to see less of you, you know."

Bobby was busy at the communications system and Scott kept an eye on
him, amused by the teen's competence with the technology. "Everybody's
on their way," Bobby said as he came over to the bed. "We were worried
about you."

"Sorry, Bobby. Believe me, it wasn't my choice. You know, I don't
normally make such a habit of this," Scott said to Phlox. "Usually I'm
angry with someone else for getting hurt."

The frosted Sickbay door opened and Captain Archer strode in, followed
by Kitty and Logan. Kitty grinned with relief and Scott smiled at her.

"Good to have you back," the captain said.

"Thank you for coming to my rescue."

Kitty bounced up and down impatiently. "They wouldn't let us help!"

"We argued," Bobby said, "but Logan agreed with them."

"Glad to hear it." Scott looked at Logan, who inclined his head. He
might be a loose cannon about most things, but at least he could be
trusted to do his best to take care of the kids. That was oddly comforting.

"Somehow I was sure you'd approve." Archer grinned at the two kids, who
grinned back despite themselves.

Archer sobered as he turned back to Scott, who nodded in understanding.
"Kitty, Bobby, now that you've seen I'm safe, you can get back to what
you were doing. We'll talk later. This time I'm promise I'm not going
anywhere."

He didn't fool either of them and they looked mildly mutinous at being
dismissed, but obediently filed out the door.

Archer sighed. "Phlox tells me that beside the obvious signs of
interrogation, the Xindi also seem to have studied you. Possibly
experimented."

Behind the captain, Logan's entire body tensed, as if ready to spring.

"They took a great many samples of bone and blood, but you arrived
before they got past that." Scott took a moment to catch his breath.
"I'm not sure what they'll learn from that, but I doubt it'll be good."

Phlox spoke up. "I wouldn't worry, Mr. Summers. I suspect that whatever
they learn about humans from studying you will simply confuse them."

Logan smirked. "Confusion to our enemies."

"I'm inclined to agree with the doctor," Archer said. "I don't think you
need to concern yourself with that."

"I hope you're right. In any case, I'm grateful I didn't find out what
they had planned next."

Archer's expression darkened, eyebrows drawing together. "Agreed. Look
if you want to talk about--"

"I'm fine." Scott evaded Logan's gaze, unready to deal with what he
might see there, and he willed the man to stay quiet.

"If you're sure..."

"I am."

Archer looked unconvinced. "Well, if you change your mind, you know
where to find me."

"Thank you, Captain."

Archer strode out of the room and Logan turned to follow. Pausing, he
looked back. "Cyclops," he said, his shoulders tense.

"Wolverine." Scott nodded once, acknowledging him.

The other man relaxed and paced out, leaving behind an amused Scott.
That was almost an emotional display. Or something.

"And now I think it's time you get some rest," Phlox said.

Obediently, Scott closed his eyes, drifting off into half-sleep, where
shadowy figures made incomprehensible pronouncements about his fate. Not
quite a nightmare, but not bucolic dreams either. In the odd way of
dreams, Scott eventually decided he'd rather be awake and found his eyes
open and staring at the Sickbay ceiling.

He blinked a few times, then heard the faint rustling of someone sitting
nearby. Probably one of the kids, he thought, looking for reassurance
about his continued presence. But when he glanced to his left, to his
surprise, he found Lt. Reed seated in a chair with an electronic
notebook which he was studying.

Astounded, Scott tried to figure out why he might be under guard. The
captain certainly hadn't mentioned that earlier.

Reed glanced up, nodding when he met Scott's eyes. "Good morning," he said.

"Is it morning?"

"By the standards of alpha shift, yes."

"Well, good morning, then." Scott searched for a marginally subtle way
of asking 'Am I under arrest...again?'

"How are you feeling?"

The question seemed sincere. "Your doctor works wonders."

Reed nodded.

"Thank you for the rescue."

"You're welcome." Reed's eyebrows rose. "The least we could do for a
shipmate, even one who is temporary."

Shipmate? Scott relaxed, since that didn't sound like he was under arrest.

One corner of Reed's mouth twitched and Scott suspected the other man
knew exactly what he had been thinking. Bastard, he thought, the word
tinged with affection.

Scott closed his eyes again, savoring the lack of any real pain.
Excellent drugs in this century, that was certain.

Reed seemed content to sit quietly. When Scott looked at him again, he
was relaxed, but appeared to be waiting.

Looking at the faded bruises on his hands, Scott shrugged internally. It
was his ship. If he wanted to sit and watch one of the mutants recover
from...recover, the chief of security was welcome to do so. Presumably,
he had Phlox's permission, since Scott strongly doubted that *anything*
went on in this space unapproved by the mild-seeming doctor.

Scott tried to go back to sleep, but vague memories of his dreams,
combined with curiosity gnawed at his brain, keeping him awake. In his
imagination, Jean laughed. 'Never could resist a puzzle, could you?'

"Can I help you, Lieutenant?"

For the first time since they'd arrived on the ship, Scott saw Reed's
face split into a smile. "Blunt," he said. "But I think the question is
rather, can I help *you*?"

"In what way?"

Reed paused, looking uncertain--also unusual. "I thought, well, I and my
staff have specific training to deal with situations...such as you've
encountered."

"Being stranded in an alternate universe in the middle of a nearly
incomprehensible war?"

Frowning, Reed leaned forward. "No need to be flippant."

"I'm sorry." Scott stared at the ceiling. "Yes, I know what you mean.
And I appreciate your coming here."

"But?"

If you stare at a plain metal ceiling long enough, you start to see
patterns, swirls, tiny flaws in the surface. Scott traced a line from
the far corner of the room, watched it dip and twirl, ending up directly
over his bed. "But this is not my first experience of this nature.
Perhaps a bit more blood, but not unique."

"And how did you deal with the aftermath of those previous incidents?"

Jean's hand caressing his forehead, soothing his mind. A cool peppermint
smell from her favorite hand lotion. "Repress and deny. It's worked
fairly well so far." Reed didn't respond and Scott listened to the
scuffling and hissing of Dr. Phlox's menagerie, studying the ceiling
once again. Giving in, he looked at Reed. "Yes?"

"Have you thought about discussing your experiences with someone?"

"Not really."

Reed continued to wait, patient and silent, looking as if he was
prepared to wait forever. Maybe he was right. Talking to someone who
understood wasn't a bad idea.

"Losing control is the worst," he said, swallowing a knot in his throat.

Reed nodded. "Agreed."

Some time later, Phlox came to feed the animals, but he didn't interrupt
their low-voiced conversation, just smiled and went about his business.

* * * * *

The summons to sickbay two days after Phlox released him wasn't a great
shock for Scott. He'd been in and out while Phlox and T'Pol, ran various
tests. And if someone was hurt, they'd have said so--like the previous
week when Bobby broke his wrist doing hand-to-hand with Lt. Reed.

Scott ran into the captain coming down the wide hallway to sickbay. He
nodded. "Afternoon, Captain."

"Is it?" He looked surprised. "I forgot to eat lunch again."

"Don't tell Phlox."

Archer hit the button to open the door, grinning wryly. "No, I won't."

T'Pol and Phlox were waiting, both looking serious, and Scott glanced at
the other man as he realized they'd both been summoned.

"Captain, Mr. Summers, the doctor and I have made significant progress,
but it requires some consultation before we proceed further."

"Consultation?" Archer asked.

Phlox looked at Scott. "The Sub-commander believes she may be able to
help you reverse the events that brought you here. And I believe I can
repair the portion of your brain that controls your mutation."

Scott could only stare, utterly unable to form a coherent thought in
response to those two statements. He had lived with his broken mind for
so long it had not occurred to him in many years that someone might fix
it. A funny feeling in his chest and head reminded him that breathing
was probably a good idea.

His gasp was buried under the captain's words. "Good job."

But neither Phlox nor T'Pol was looking at the captain. "There is a
caveat," T'Pol said. "If we repair the damage, there is a chance you
might not be able to return home."

Phlox added, "And there is always the risk that I might damage your
vision further."

Scott swayed in place and the captain grabbed his arm, brow furrowed and
a question on his lips. For a moment, Scott didn't see T'Pol's calm
face, rather he saw Jean's somber one explaining that she and Hank would
keep looking for answers, but his glasses were probably permanent.

"As long as I can look at you," he'd said, smiling gently, "I'll survive."

Scott relaxed his clenched jaw when realized the Enterprise crew were
waiting for his response. "Are you sure?"

"No," Phlox said. "There is no way to be certain of either outcome."

Archer's face looked drawn, sad, understanding. Scott wondered how many
hard choices he'd had to make.

"I need to think about this," he said. "It's all very sudden."

"Certainly," Archer said, "take your time."

* * * * *

His feet started moving of their own accord, taking him down endless
gray corridors. Nodding politely to passing crew, he found himself at
the entrance to a place the ship's pilot had shown him.

Travis had grinned, his white teeth gleaming in the most infectious
smile. "How do you do in zero g?"

"I love it, why?"

"Then you're gonna love this." Travis launched himself into the room in
a leap, floating gently to the other side.

Scott's eyes went wide and he took a careful step, floating as his
stomach did two flip-flops and settled down. After some lessons on
moving in weightless conditions, Travis left him to enjoy the area
called 'the sweet spot.'

It had quickly become Scott's favorite place on the Enterprise and today
he rolled his way to the very top corner to hover and think about the
bombshells that were dropped on him before his capture by the Xindi.

It was mind-boggling, terrifying, and altogether almost impossible to
consider: the ability to control his mutation. What would it be like to
open his eyes and not be afraid of killing people? He vaguely remembered
the feeling.

It wouldn't happen overnight, certainly. There would be a period of
learning how to control it, during which the glasses would stay, but...

Curling in a ball and allowing his body to gently turn in circles, Scott
closed his eyes behind the glasses, concentrating solely on the mild
vertigo for a few moments. It sounded like he'd made up his mind, but
how could he do that without consulting the others? Their lives and
futures were at stake as well and what if they wanted to go home?

The silence was broken by a voice below him. Or was that above him?

"There you are," Trip said.

"Here I am," Scott agreed.

For a long moment, Scott floated, his mind locked in a cycle of
confusion. With a practiced grace, Trip bounced off the ceiling and came
to rest a few feet away, hands behind his head and a concerned
expression on his face.

"So," Trip said hesitantly, "T'Pol tells me you've got a bad decision to
make. Well," he paused, looking rueful, "she used a lot more words, but
that was the gist of it."

"Oh, the captain didn't send a shipwide memo?" His stomach churned,
thinking of everyone feeling sorry for him.

"Of course not. It's just T'Pol figured you might need somebody to talk
to. She's learned a heck of a lot about humans in the past few years.
And lemme tell you, when a *Vulcan* thinks you need to talk about your
feelings, that's a pretty sure sign. So, did you want to talk about it
or should I go to hell?"

Scott sighed, his mind still racing.

Trip did a lazy roll in place. "Maybe I'm not the best person, I don't
know why T'Pol came to me. Should I get Logan or the Cap'n?"

"No," Scott said. "No, I don't think I'm ready to talk to either of them."

Trip came to rest against the opposite wall and slowly pushed himself
back up, silent and patient.

They floated for a while, letting their own small movements push them
around the space.

"So, you and the Sub-commander think you can get us home."

"Yeah, I think we might be able to do it."

"And Dr. Phlox thinks he can repair my eyes, so I can see normally and
control my blasts."

Trip jerked in place, propelling himself into a wall with a thud. "Whoa!
But if he starts doing surgery then--"

"Who knows what effect it will have on my ability to warp space and time."

"Man, that's..." Trip trailed off, apparently at a loss for words.

"Mm-hmm."

Silence fell again as the two men contemplated the dilemma.

"A part of me," Scott said, "believes I deserve to have my vision fixed.
The universe took away Jean, so it owes me something. Except that I know
the universe doesn't work that way."

"No, I guess it doesn't."

"I miss her." His voice cracked on the last word.

"I can't imagine what it must be like," Trip said quietly.

"She was...she was my whole life, the reason I did this." Scott closed
his eyes, Jean's smiling face behind his eyelids, a ghost of her mental
touch in his mind. "I believed in Professor Xavier's dream, but Jean was
there for me and that's what kept me going."

"Believed?"

Scott opened his eyes and frowned. "I did use past tense, didn't I? I
guess since she died, it's been hard to stay on track."

"I know what you mean," Trip said, his voice low. Scott looked at him,
seeing the other man staring at his hands. "Since the Xindi probe hit
the Earth, I've had trouble focusing on anything but destroying the
Xindi, obliterating them for what they did to my sister. Well, everybody
wanted to do it, but..."

"It's hard not to hate when you've been hurt."

"Yeah." Trip's jaw twitched. "How've you done it?"

"By hating Stryker," Scott said, feeling the familiar rage well up.
"Hating the man who was in charge. My one consolation is that Stryker
died in the same flood that killed Jean." He took a gasping breath,
surprised at the venom in his voice.

Trip looked surprised as well. "Uh, did you..."

"Logan. Logan found Stryker where Magneto had tied him to the dam and he
left him there."

"Wow."

Whispering. "I wish it had been me."

"I know. Believe me, I know."

"Jean wouldn't want me to hate this much. I know that. She'd want me to
forgive, move on, but how can I?"

Trip was silent for a moment before heaving a sigh. "I think I'm going
to recommend more psychology coursework for officer candidates at the
academy when we get back."

That surprised a laugh out of Scott. "Good idea."

Silence fell again as Scott turned the options over in his mind for the
thousandth time. Slowly a picture formed in his mind, of the day Hank
and the professor figured out how to stop his eyes from destroying
everything in their path. Opening them to a disorienting wash of red
that gradually turned into shapes.

Jean's face against the backdrop of trees and wood paneling; Jean's
smile in the sunlight showing him around brick and stone and cement
pathways; her hair that he knew was red even without red glasses, lying
against an embroidered chair back.

Charles smiling, joy at his regained sight tempered by the knowledge it
was a halfway victory; Hank's uproarious laughter; Warren shaking his
hand so formally while Scott tried not to stare at the angelic wings
he'd only felt before.

Years passed in his memory.

Every inch of the mansion was familiar to him, every resident known,
every defense carefully designed. The kids--his responsibility--already
mourning Jean's loss. He hadn't been much help to them.

"I can't do the surgery, can I?" The words were heavy, difficult to form.

"I can't make that decision for you."

Scott closed his eyes and felt the room spin slowly around him. "But we
don't belong here. And I can't take the chance that fixing my eyes will
strand us here."

"It does sound like you've got unfinished business at home."

"Jean wouldn't have wanted me to give up on the dream." He opened his
eyes. "I know that as well as I know my own name."

Trip's smile was strained. "Lizzie wouldn't want to see me, see any of
us, acting like we have been. But I don't know what choice we have."

"Well, at least if you keep your eyes open for some chance to make
contact..."

"What do we say? 'Hi, we're not here to blow you up. Really. Scout's
honor.' Yeah, that'll work."

"Of course it's not that simple, but what's your other option? Destroy
their homeworld?"

"We'll destroy the weapon." Trip crossed his arms, momentum pushing him
back against the wall.

"They'll build another one."

"And we'll destroy that."

"How many ships and planets and people have they got? Eventually they'll
win and you know it."

Trip glared at him, then looked away.

Sighing, Scott scrubbed at his face. "Sorry."

Trip stared at a bulkhead. "They killed millions of people. They're not
going to stop until every single human being is dead. How the hell can
you expect us to talk to them?"

"It takes some faith, I'll admit. But sometimes just a few influential
contacts can make all the difference." Scott found he wanted so
desperately to convince this man that it wasn't entirely hopeless.

Trip shook his head and when he turned back, his face was set. "We've
got no choice but to follow this mission to the end. Talking isn't going
to help."

Scott felt a sick feeling in his stomach. "You could find a way. This
crew is smart and dedicated."

There was no answer as Trip floated back against the bulkhead, bracing
himself with one hand.

They floated a while longer, Scott thinking with longing of normal eyes.
He was jerked out of his daydream by a sudden movement from Trip, who
was focused on the bulkhead he was touching, a look of concentration on
his face. "Something wrong?"

Trip put up a hand, so Scott stopped, watching the other man tilt his
head and listen to something. "Huh," Trip finally said. "Just a funny
sound from the engines. I think that last warp core purge must've
knocked something off-kilter."

"Is that serious?"

"Nah. But I'd better go make sure my team's already on it."

Scott nodded. "Duty calls. But thank you for helping me see my decision."

"No problem. Glad I could help. I just wish, well, I wish we hadn't made
you decide between these two things. For all our fancy technology,
sometimes it seems like we only make things worse."

Scott nodded. "I feel the same way about mutations. Some people hate us,
others envy us, and it feels like maybe we really are nothing trouble.
I'm just a glorified blasting machine. Hell, the government made Logan
into the perfect weapon."

"But you choose what to do with your mutations, just like we do with our
tech. Sometimes we make the wrong decision, but we're only human. All of
us." Trip kicked off the wall he'd been resting against. "Now I'd better
get to my engines before Hess snags all the fun work."

"Thank you," Scott called.

Trip paused in the entryway, looking over his shoulder. "I'll think
about what you said. Maybe both of us can find a little peace."

"I hope so."

* * * * *

Jon was in his ready room, glaring at the latest batch of reports when
his door buzzed. Closing his eyes, he bade whoever it was enter, praying
for no more reports.

He smiled, relieved, when Summers entered. "Good, I was afraid you were
T'Pol with more work."

"No, but for a moment you reminded me of Professor Xavier." At Jon's
wave, Summers dropped into the seat.

"Me?"

Summers chuckled. "He gets that same look on his face when I bring him
more work, more problems, more bad news. Oh, he tries to hide it, but
he's an astoundingly bad liar."

"I wonder if it's harder for a telepath to lie," Jon said, thinking of
T'Pol and Vulcan culture. "Does it seem more unnatural?"

"Hmm." Summers frowned. "I hadn't thought of it quite that way. I know
that," his jaw twitched, "Jean was considered unusually blunt and
outspoken among her fellow med students. With her students, she was
quieter, but she tended to avoid even white lies."

Jon watched Summers as he talked, trying to imagine what it had been
like to see his fiancée die. "I still look for my father," he said.

Head lifting, Summers waited.

"On the ship," Jon went on. "It was his design, his legacy and I still
expect him to come around a corner and demand to know what I'm doing to
his engines." It was an old sorrow, but not painless by any means.

Summers nodded slowly. "It's hard to be in surroundings that remind you.
But..."

"I had to do it. I had to be here. For me as much as for him."

"Yes." Summers turned his head toward the stars streaming by and Jon
wondered what he saw. Finally, the corners of his mouth lifted. "The pep
talk was wasted, though, since I'd already decided to make the attempt
to go home."

"Ah." Jon grinned. "Needed to be said, though."

"I suppose so. Trip and I had a long talk. He was quite helpful."

"I suspect," Jon hesitated, "you helped him just as much. He's had a
hard time bouncing back and I didn't want to push."

"I think he'll recover. Eventually."

"Will you?" Out of sight behind the desk, Jon's hand clenched into a
fist. He hadn't meant to ask that.

Summers sighed and looked away. "You won't push Trip but you'll push me?"

"I've known Trip too long, I think." Jon shrugged. "I wrestled with that
before I brought him onboard. But the ship's nearly as much his
accomplishment as my father's."

"Well, to answer your question, yes, I think I'll recover as well.
Wherever...wherever Jean is, I think she'd be unhappy if I didn't."

"It certainly seems like you have a lot of work waiting for you at home.
And we'll do our best to get you there."

"Thank you, Captain."

"I'm sure that if you meet with Phlox, he'd be happy to pass on his
notes. I'm not certain you'll be able to use it..."

"But my doctor will be happy to have the information." Summers rose.
"I'd better go talk to the others. Let them know we're going home."

"You've a great deal of faith in my crew."

"Justified so far. It's an impressive team."

Faces ran through his mind and Jon found himself smiling. "They are damn
impressive, aren't they? They do me proud every day."

Summers paused. "If anyone can accomplish your impossible mission, it
will be the Enterprise. And believe me, I know something about the
impossible."

For a moment, Jon couldn't swallow or breathe. "Thank you."

Even through the red glasses, Summers held his gaze. "Thank *you*." He
left without saying anything else.

As the door swished shut behind Summers, Jon leaned back in his chair,
reports temporarily forgotten. No question, he was going to miss their
visitors. Besides their formidable abilities, they'd been a badly-needed
breath of fresh air for the whole crew, perspective on their situation.

They'd be missed. Jon just hoped their friends back on Earth appreciated
them.

* * * * *

It took several days for engineering and science to agree that they were
ready, but finally everyone convened in engineering, where the four
visitors were bundled into a small chamber festooned with wires and things.

Summers turned just in front of the door and looked at Jon. "It's
been...educational."

"On both sides." Jon studied him. "Good luck in your own mission. I wish
there was something we could do to help *you*."

"You have, Captain. Believe me, you have."

Jon hovered behind Trip, peering at the screens showing the chamber.
Vaguely comprehensible readings washed over him, but he concentrated on
his crew and the visitors. T'Pol was her usual unruffled self, which
didn't mean much, but Trip looked pleased, which had to be a good thing.

Between one blink and the next, Summers, Logan, Kitty, and Bobby
disappeared. Jon stared, and the crew around him cheered.

"Did it work?" he asked Trip.

Trip sobered, looking back at the empty chamber. "There's no way to be
certain, Cap'n. But yeah, I think so. I gotta have faith in something,
right?" He grinned at Jon.

"Right." Jon chuckled.

In a career that included long-lost colonies, slime monsters, and more
alien prisons than he could shake a stick at...the past few weeks still
qualified as monumentally strange.

Shaking his head, he left the crew to their celebration and left for the
bridge, feeling more hopeful than he had in months.

* * * * *

The walls of engineering faded abruptly, rather like what Scott
remembered of the matter transmitter. But this time *he* was powering
the transmission.

Vision graying, Scott thought fiercely of home, of Earth, of every loved
and hated feature of the place. It was there, not far, he reached his
hand out, feeling his companions at his back.

Earth retreated and Scott shouted in fury, throwing every erg he could
spare into the effort. They inched closer, but he knew it wouldn't be
enough. There was a tiny glowing coal within himself, everything that
was left of him, and Scott prepared to use it.

But he was surrounded by light (red-gold), warmth (a roaring fire on a
snowy day), emotion (love), power (unimaginable)...

And then it was gone. But he knew they'd made it home. And the
light...he put it aside to think about later.

Scott felt like he'd been run over by a truck, muscles trembling, vision
blurry, but he felt sun on the back of his neck, the warmth seeping in
like water onto parched soil. Each tendril felt healing, and it was only
a moment before he stood more or less upright.

"Looks like you did it, Cyke," Logan said.

Scott blinked away the sparkles in his vision. "Glad to hear it." He
cleared his throat. "Situation?"

"Everybody's gone, the kid, the Brotherhood."

His vision cleared. Kitty and Bobby were on alert, back-to-back scanning
the area, while Logan prowled the periphery. It was familiar--the same
deserted field where they'd arranged to meet their new student.

Logan sniffed. "They *were* here, though. You brought us back after all
the excitement."

"How long?" Scott could see a scar in the earth where his beams had
missed a target and gouged out the grass. It looked fairly fresh.

"A day. Two, maybe." Logan sniffed again. "I think two. Whatever
happened, it's done now."

"Let's check in with the Professor."

"If we've been gone two days," Bobby began.

Kitty finished his sentence. "Everybody's probably pretty worried."

Scott nodded. "Let's see if the car is where we left it, and we can call
in."

* * * * *

Kitty had underestimated. In fact, the entire school was *frantic* at
their two-day disappearance, and the four of them were welcomed back as
returning heroes.
The kids threw an impromptu party in the rec room, raiding the kitchen
for goodies and turning up the music. As a particularly insistent
backbeat made a window shake, Scott smiled and let Jubilee hand him a
soda. Normally, he'd sternly insist on quieter music, but just now they
deserved...no, they needed this. Ororo hugged him and shouted something
in his ear and he nodded absently.

After circulating through the crowd for a while, Scott slipped out the
door, partially to save his ears, but also so he could think. He felt
disconnected, wandering the halls, touching things to be certain he
wasn't dreaming, looking for people who weren't there.

"Let's talk," Charles said, rolling down the hall behind him, with that
look that meant he was only refraining from reading your mind by sheer
force of will.

Nodding, Scott followed him to his office, the warm wood strange as he
closed the door behind them. Charles watched Scott with a sympathetic
smile as he leaned against the window frame, staring at the familiar
landscape. Dead leaves stirred on the ground in a stray breeze and Scott
tried to imagine the golds, oranges, and browns he knew were there.

"Logan gave an...abbreviated report, and I overheard Kitty's explanation
to Rogue and Jubilee," Charles finally said. "It sounds amazing."

"It was." A squirrel ran up a tree with something in its mouth,
disappearing into the interior of the trunk.

"You've been to outer space, Scott. What did you find?"

Scott turned, a small smile twitching at his lips and the memory of
red-gold light warming his heart. "Peace. In the midst of a war, I found
peace."

--end--

Just wanted to thank everyone for the great feedback you've given for "A
Haunting in Westchester". I had a lot of fun with the story, and I hope you all
did too.

If anyone would mind sparing a moment more, I'd be very glad to hear what you
think about the character Helen Conover. She's still lurking in my imagination,
so if you'd like to see her again in my fiction, let me know!

Jordi
http://www.jordanna.net

I really liked this story. I was looking for some new good fic to take my
mind off the election results and was very happy to find this. Thank you. I
hope you'll archive it on Nadja Lee's Cyclops site.

I didn't need to know anything about the show Enterprise to enjoy this. It
did make me curious to watch an episode.

I don't believe I've read a fanfic about Scott having a secondary mutation
of being able to travel through time/space, and I'd like to read more
stories dealing with this.

Although I think somewhere I once read a post (by Min?) discussing this. It
is a really interesting idea, and would make sense since both his children
(in the comics) can time-travel.

And according to Marvel canon Scott's optic blasts come from some other
dimension (!)  So that must mean he is permanently able to access some other
space/time. Since he can't turn off his optic beams then he must be
permanently standing with one foot in another space/time, so to speak. You
would think this would cause all sorts of temporal disruptions around the
mansion.

Of mutants with secondary mutations -- well, there was Jean, both telepathic
and telekinetic. And then Emma is both telepathic and able to assume a
diamond-hard form (kind of like Peter's organic steel form). Other than
that, I can't remember other canon characters with distinctive secondary
mutations. Although every Mary Sue on ff.net has at least 3 different
incredible powers... And I found a male Mary Sue in one series who had the
powers of Jesus Christ. I am not kidding.

Oh, wait, Marvel turns Canon Rogue into a Mary Sue with 3 different
incredible undefeatable powers, right. Argh. I am not a fan of Invincible
Rogue, or Invincible Any Character.

I suppose you could separate out Logan's and Hank's abilities into secondary
and tertiary mutations, but they don't seem distinctly "separate" to me, but
all of one piece.

Anyway, thanks for a good story and a much-wanted diversion from
post-election gloom.