Fanfic Time: X-Wars, part 24

Continued from yesterday:

  Forge’s “mosquito” had returned with Rogue’s biosample. It was the work of an instant to cross-reference it with all known mutants in his database. Well, now, wasn’t that interesting. It seems Mystique had a daughter as well as a son. Forge considered for a moment, then went online. He did have a few online friends, though he knew that with the hoops he went through creating different screen names and profiles and the hoops he put his programs through so that any attempted trace would lead elsewhere, he was confident that Mystique did not know of these friends. She was no technomage.

  Rogue was one of the few individuals whose computer capabilities he actaully respected, and her figured he owed her some of the news about what he had found. Now how was he going to tell Rogue about her niece without any questions being turned his way?

~

  Stacy was pacing back and forth across the warehouses dirty floor, all six arms hugging Nightcrawler’s shoulder armour to her chest, an unfamiliar expression on her face. She looked worried…almost distraught.

  “He should have been here by now…” She muttered to herself. “He knew this was the fallback point…”

  Juliet was watching her, eyes wide and full of tears.

  “Broken…” She said to Stacy as the reptilian woman touched her shoulder.

  “Yeah…” She sighed. “I think you may be right…” She continued towards her pacing teammate. “Spiral…?” She frowned. “Rita…are you okay?” Spiral looked at her with eyes even wider than Juliet’s. Stacy could see tears brimming there. THAT frightened her. She hadn’t even been aware that she was capable of crying.

  “I never should have left him.” Spiral sighed, sitting down heavily on a discarded crate.

  “You really do care about him, don’t you?” Stacy said.

  Spiral considered this for a moment. She DID feel something for her charismatic leader, but it was nothing like the blond cutie with the mullet she’d known years ago. But then, that had been…before…

  She looked at four of her hands…

  “I don’t know…” She sighed. “It’s just, he’s so…”

  Stacy smiled. “Yeah…I know…it’s hard not to care about the guy on some level…” She put a reassuring hand on her first shoulder. “I wouldn’t worry…he can take care of himself…”

~

  Kurt “Nightcrawler” Wagner was curled up in a ball and weeping like a child in the dark.

  Jean cradled his head in her lap and carefully stroked his hair, murmuring soft, reassuring noises and sweet nothings designed to calm and reassure. It wasn’t that the sex was that bad - hell no. Quite the opposite.

  He’d reaffirmed her faith. Rather often. She’d been able to return the favour quite a few times, herself.

  And Jean personally doubted she could get up and walk even if she wanted to…

  What was happening now, she knew, was something referred to as an emotional watershed. Pent-up feelings and delayed mourning sought their way out in a time of weakness and vulnerability.

  Maybe this was why he had that peculiar rule of his[5] - a fear that such an outburts would permanently ruin his reputation amongst the troops. Or maybe he didn’t want his people to see the hurt and wounded side of him. The side that bled with every Legion member’s hurts. Privately. Inside.

  _When I get back topside, I’m going to have a chat to the Professor about terminology. ‘Emotive haemorrhaging’ just doesn’t sound right…_

  Kurt’s breathing shifted to shuddering, deep breaths. Regaining control.

  “Ach…” he said. “Es tut mir leid, fraulein… you must be thinking all sorts of things…”

  “I *do* have a doctorate in psychology,” said Jean. “Even if I wasn’t a telepath, I’d tell you that you need to vent more - in a healthy way, naturally.”

  Another shuddering sigh. “If it’s so healthy for me - why do I feel so verdammt *bad*?”

  “Part of the process,” she joked. “It’s a rule. If it just gets better, you’re doing something wrong. Sort of the codicil to the hippocratic oath.”

  That made him laugh.

  Ah, good, old-fashioned hysteria. Jean was almost compelled to join in. She had, after all, had lots of time to take stock.

  They were alone, naked and wet in an unknown area with an uncertain air supply and *nobody* knew they were alive.

  The X-Men didn’t even know she was there.

~

  She knew they’d be worried. But he needed her…he needed so much.

  During their recent…activity…it wasn’t hard for her to notice the condition of his body. He had muscle, that was true, but there was nothing underneath it but bone. She had felt the jagged points of his vertebra when she’d run her hand along his spine, the hollows between his ribs when she’d tightened her arms around him in her passion.

  She noticed a distinct change in his quiet sobs. She twisted slightly to look at him, and found him clutching the ring…she didn’t have to be a mind reader to know what he was thinking…

  'Oh shit…’

  “Kurt…” She held his face with both hands, tilting it upwards so she could see his golden eyes. So much pain, confusion, guilt. “You didn’t betray her…”

  His eyes darkened for a moment. “You are reading my mind again.” He said softly.

  “No.” She smiled sadly. “I don’t have to…after what we’ve shared… I think I know you fairly well now…”

  “Only she knew me better…” He whispered. He sounded so weary, as if he was totally exhausted, body and soul. He nestled into her shoulder again, no longer weeping, he was too tired, but he seemed content in her warmth and comfort.

  “You loved her…” Jean said softly, stroking his dark, dark hair. “And she loved you. What happened… well… it shouldn’t have. But she wouldn’t have wanted you to be alone…”

~

  **Interlude**

  High above the city streets, the Humane Foundation’s building gracing the city skyline a figure joined two others.

  “Hi, sorry I’m late, there’s always a mugging when you need to go somewhere huh?”

  “It’s ok hon, we’re just skyline watching, want a beer?”

  There was the sound of bottles opening and for a time the three sat in silence.

  “They won’t be able to do it on their own.”

  “Yeah, I know.” The newcomer sighed gustily before taking a long pull on his drink. “But I’ve spoken to Johnny and tin-butt and they’ve said they can help keep an eye on things.”

  “Tin butt?” there was a raised eyebrow.

  A grin was the only reply, adjusting his mask slightly the third figure pulled the second in for a kiss.

  “Peeterr! I just did my makeup!”

  “Sorry 'Cat”

  The first merely smiled at their antics, head turned in their general direction, the setting sun glinting off two small horns set on the forehead of his mask.

  “I get the feeling I’m playing gooseberry here. I will be including this area in my patrols Webhead and …”

  “Offering free legal advice?” the third cracked as the first got up to leave.

  “Trust me” said the Daredevil “I’m a lawyer…”

  The sun set on an empty rooftop, three figures swinging away on slender threads.[6]

~

  “She was my *one*,” Nightcrawler repeated. “How could there be another? What sort of betrayal is - looking?”

  “You’re asking the wrong person,” Jean admitted. “I’ve never been so - certain - about love. Telepathy lets you see every little dark motivation, y'know.”

  “Sounds like ignorance is bliss,” said Kurt. “Yet you - wanted me… not too long ago. Could it become something more?”

  This was not a time for lies. “I’m not right for you and you know it. Neither are you right for me.”

  “Was?”

  “Oil and water, Kurt. We’re on opposite teams. Opposite goals. It wouldn’t work.”

  “*How* opposite goals?” Kurt demanded. “We both want mutantkind to be free.”

  “True. But you blow stuff up to get there. And kidnap people. And - basically - create terror.”

  “Ja? People respect bees because they sting…”

  “They also *use* them.”

  “Hm! Point taken.” His eyes vanished from her sight as he looked away. “Are you certain we could not work something out?”

  “No. We’d be forcing each other into non-existant moulds of our perfect mates… No sex, no matter how vitalising, is worth that.”

  A moment of silence so profound that it almost shook the earth.

  “Ouch,” he said.

  “Sorry,” said Jean. “But it’s the truth.”

~

  Kurt was lost in his own thoughts for a moment, then he let out a loud sigh. “Yeah… you’re right… I guess it just goes against the grain…”

  “What does?” She frowned.

  “I’ve never been the type to… well… indulge in sex for sex’s sake…for me, it always means something…”

  Jean arched a brow, her lips quirked in a smile. “Jeez, Kurt… if I didn’t know better I’d swear you were a woman…” She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and rubbed her forehead against his cheek. 'God, I love the way he feels…’ She sighed. “Besides… what makes you think it didn’t mean something?”

  “Just not enough to build a relationship on…” He said, turning slightly towards her.

  “You ever see the movie Speed?” She asked.

  “Are you changing the subject?” He frowned.

  “No…” She chuckled. “Sandra Bullock said that relationships based on extreme experiences never work… or something like that… and this was definitely an extreme experience…”

  “Spur of the moment…” He nodded.

  “That doesn’t mean we can’t hold a little piece of each other in our hearts… that we can’t remember it fondly…”

  “Please don’t say we can still be friends…” Kurt laughed. She soon joined him.

  When they sobered, he looked about with his far superior night vision. “I guess we should see if there is some way out of here…” He said, disentangling himself from her arms and rising gracefully to his feet. He offered her his hand.

  She took it a little reluctantly, not sure if she could match his grace. She leaned on him rather heavily when she got to her feet. He frowned. “Are you all right?” He asked.

  “Yeah… I’m fine… just a little… stiff…” She smiled sheepishly.

  “Oh…” He arched a brow.

~

  Kaze stretched, but didn’t open her eyes. As per usual, her wings were loose for sleep, but still tucked neatly against her back minus the restraint belt. She twitched the joint, still with eyes closed, trying to loosen the stiffness therein and getting an ominous creaking noise for her troubles.

  Something soft brushed past her ear, tickling, and she reached up to scratch the pointed tip. An eye eased open against the brightness of oncoming morning, and she blinked in surprise to find herself looking into blue eyes instead of out her window as usual.

  “Hey,” the eyes greeted, and a hand flicked a stray feather from where it had been tickling her ear. White. Not one of hers, then. “How you feeling?”

  “Like I was run over by a truck. Did I really crash out on the coach. As in, voluntarily.” The eyes shut again, and she heard Warren chuckle.

  “Like a sack of potatoes. You were wiped. Suppose that’s what we get for burning the candle at both ends.”

  “You too?”

  “Armchair. Not the best place, but it does in a pinch. Coffee?”

  The smell wafted to her nose, rich and fruity, and she shovelled herself upright to take the proferred mug. Steam filled her senses, and she breathed deeply of it, marvelling at how good this particular brand was. Usually, she settled for whatever was on sale at the Kwik-E-Mart, but this expensive stuff Warren preferred was a little luxury she could really get used to.

  _If our funds stretch that far._ “How’re the kids?”

  “Still sleeping, for the most part.” Warren stayed on his feet, drinking coffee and staring out of the window. He wandered across to lean on the sill, balancing on his elbows with his chin pressed against the side of the mug.

  He hadn’t shaven yet, Kaze noticed, and looked rather more rugged than photographers liked him to. The sleek, slicked back, laquered over look was what graced every photo in every magazine since he began this venture, and the dichotomy of seeing him look so… well, tired next to his own image on the magazine at her feet, was something Kaze sighed at. She kicked the offending reading material under the coach, and sipped at her own beverage.

  “No crises last night, then?”

  “One or two, but they were taken care of. I get the feeling that Logan character is going to be invaluable.”

  “Which is odd, considering his press coverage.”

  Warren nodded. “Bad boy abandons his team to go on the road. Not a care for the city he’s abandoning. Pfft, Logan’s not quite the unwholesome fellah the National Enquirer likes to make out that he is. Personally,” he cut his eyes at Kaze, “I think he was smart to get out of the X-Men when he did.”

  She arched a brow. “Oh?”

  “They’re going to self-destruct somewhere down the line. I can see it, and so can they. But they keep on going regardless. Fighting the good fight and all that crap - uh, pardon my french.”

  Sip. “You’re pardoned. But what makes you say that. I met several of them yesterday, and they all seemed perfectly fine and together to me. Almost a familial set-up to them.”

  “Almost.” Warren looked at her crypitically, as if he could communicate his meaning through his eyes alone. When she made no reply, he shrugged and quaffed the last of his coffee, despite the temperature not having quite reached quaffing level, yet. “The problem’s not them as people, per se. It’s their situation. The people around them. You’ve heard about their PR guy, right?”

  “Bits and bobs. Wild rumours, mostly.”

  “He’s their driving force. It may seem like that bald guy, Professor Xavier, but it’s really all about the media, and that’s where Shawn Dann comes in. He’s the reason they do what they do the way they do it. He doesn’t care about them as individuals, and that’s why the X-Men are as unstable as anyone in Arkham.”

  Kaze ignored the reference to the mental institution, since it was pure speculation Arkham even existed anymore. Even so, the kudos lent to its name by the multitude of nefarious criminals and general insane people that had once passed through its doors made her frown.

  “What… exactly are you saying?” she asked, puckering her brow.

  Warren sighed. “I’m saying… I don’t know what I’m saying. It’s too early in the morning for any of this. Look, all I meant is that the X-Men we see, and the X-Men as real people are very different things. And that’s not neccessarily a workable combination. I hear that Rasputin guy once tried to *give away* his artwork to the Tate Gallery, but Dann wouldn’t let him. Why? Because it 'didn’t fit his image’. Images can be broken. As can people. And when you’re in the public eye a lot, they tend to break together, and in spectacular style.” He looked down, dangling his mug from one finger almost languidly. “Believe me, I know.”

  Kaze watched him for a second, then carefully set her mug down and rose to her feet. Warren flinched as she crossed the room in a few steps and enveloped him in a bear hug, using her wings to nestle his cheek on top of her skull. She said nothing, but simply held him for a moment, before letting go and taking a step backwards.

  “We should go check on the kids.”

  “Uh… yeah.” Warren rubbed at the back of his head, and followed her out with dragging footsteps, pausing once to look out of the window and sigh again.

~

  Each room they passed was a picture of pure serenity, the children sleeping the sleep of angels.

  They met up with Hank, who was finishing mopping up the soap and bubbles from earlier.

  'It’s all going well,’ the doctor said, 'with the help of Wolverine and Jamie, not to mention Sandra, we’ve just about cleared up most of the mess.’

  'And all of the kids?’

  'They’re resting peacefully, all except Spyke. He’s still wandering around somewhere. I think one of the Jamies said he saw him in the kitchen.’

  'We’d better check up on him,’ said Kaze, and Warren nodded.

  They soon came to the kitchen, or rather they came to ground zero. That would have been by far a better term.

  The place looked like it had been hit by a bomb.

  No, scratch that, the place looked like it had been hit by several hundred hungry, hyperactive, mutant children, and that was much worse.

  Both Kaze and Warren winced at the memmory. The puddings had been too large to take to the children individualy, so they had just called out 'grubs up’ and watch the chaos unfold. Even now vivid images of the hordes of children rampaging in that small space came back to them both, and they knew they’d have nightmares about it for weeks to come.

  'So,’ muttered Kaze, 'where’s Spyke, do you think?’

  Warren was just about to shrug when a slurping sound reached his keen ears. Following the noise, he crept his way to the source, which was the huge cooking pot they had put the custard in. It was easerly large enough to contain one, small, child.

  He peered over it’s edge to see Spyke, licking out the dregs of the custard.

  The bony boy looked up at the same time as Warren looked down, gave a growl, and leaped out of the pot. He landed on his feet on the floor, then rushed off, pushing past Kaze, down into the corridor. Warren had a feeling that he was probably going back to his own room.

  He straightened up and gazed at the splattered and battered kitchen once again.

  'One thing’s for sure,’ he sighed, 'we’ve got our work cut out for us.’

  'You can say that again,’ agreed Kaze.

~

  Kaze had brought several changes of clothes in preparation for the inevitable chaos with the kids, and all her bottoms except one was too dirty to be worn. All she had left was a skirt. Warren walked in to see a very ragged looking Kaze staring at the offending clothing.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked.

  “I can’t wear this.”

  “Why not?”

  “My wings are public now, and I’m flying. Skirts and flying, especially flying above people, don’t go together.”

  “I wouldn’t know. I think I still have something clean left. You’re welcome to borrow.”

  A few minutes later Kaze walked out in the only thing Warren had left. The ugliest, brightest pair of Hawiian shorts on the planet. Apparently the had been a gift from his mother, so he couldn’t throw them out and had brought them along in the hopes that one of the mutant children would stumble into his room and accidentally fire up their powers. That way, no matter how bad the damage was to his room, the offending shorts would be gone and something good would have come of the accident.

*

  When Kaze walked into the kid’s rooms, she was nearly tackled by a dozen kids who had never seem so many colors on one article of clothing and were intent on checking out the prettiest pair of shorts on the planet. 

~

  Jean clung tightly to Nightcrawler as they stumbled along the dark, litter strew tunnel. She did this for several reasons. Firstly, she didn’t have a clue where they were going, and somehow he did. Every now and then he’d pause, turning his head slightly and mumble just where they were, sometimes by location name, sometimes by longitude and latitude. She had no idea if he was right or not, but he knew the sewers far better than she did.

  She also clung to him because as well as not knowing where they were going, she couldn’t see where they were going. All she could see were his eyes, glowing like hot coals in the blackness. He could see everything he had assured her. She knew him well enough now to trust him.

  It was also freezing and his was the only warmth to be found. In fact, he was almost hot as a furnace. She had expressed her concern about that, fearing he was coming down with some kind of fever, just what they needed right now, but he had told her he was always warm, it was due to the fur and a hyper accelerated metabolism.

  Finally, she just liked touching him.

  Though, the feel of his ribs beneath her fingers and his mentioning his hyper accelerated metabolism had got her thinking.

  “How much do you eat?” She asked him.

  He stopped, turning to look at her. All she could see was a faint outline of his face and those glowing eyes.

  “You’re not going to start are you?” He said in a hissed whisper.

  “What?” She was a little taken aback by the simmering hostility in his response.

  “The others…they are always at me for not eating enough…”

  “Mutants burn a lot of energy using their powers.” She said, in full doctor mode. “The more explosive the power the more energy it requires. And yours is about as explosive as they come. And if you have the high metabolism that you say you do you have to eat even more.”

  “I’m well aware of that.” He grumbled.

  “Then take better care of yourself.” She said sternly. “If there’s no energy stores then your body’ll look for it else where. I don’t have to be a doctor to se it’s already eating into your muscle mass. I can see a dramatic weight loss in you and I haven’t known you all that long… your colleagues…”

  “It is all fine for you to argue the point…” He all but growled. “Living up there in the sun with plenty of money and plenty of food. We fight for every damn thing we can get…and yes…sometimes we go hungry…”

  “I get the feeling you go hungry a lot more than you have to…”

  “So I should let a child go hungry while I fill my belly?” He shot back. “Do you think I can live with that? Could you?” She lowered her head. “Do you have any idea how many kids I have to look out for?”

  “There are options…” She looked up. “Warren…”

  “Has his hands full as it is.” He countered. “Besides… my kids are not the adoptable type… they’re with me because no one wanted them.”

  “We have plenty of room…for you and the kids.” She began. “The Professor…”

  “Is going to give a home to a group of terrorists?” He finished for her. “I do not think so.”

  “Surely there’s someone who’ll help…” He cut her off by laying a think finger to her lips.

  “Don’t worry about us.” He said softly. “We have been surviving down here for a lot longer than you know…”

  “And you?” She queried.

  “I have survived far worse than going hungry.”

~

  “You shouldn’t *have* to,” argued Jean. “Life is more than just survival… And I’m sure homes can be found for at least *some* of the children, here…”

  “We’re the rejects, fraulein,” said Nightcrawler. “We’re used to it. Going up to the surface will only serve to rub it in our faces.”

  “…says the world’s 'most layable’ mutant,” Jean said, sarcasm thick in the air. “Maybe people didn’t reject you as badly as you say. Maybe you all decided to reject humanity before they could hurt you.”

  A moment of silence. A faint jingle indicated that one taloned, tridactyl hand was toying with his trophies. “Maybe we did. Maybe we didn’t. Maybe some of us have had enough pain, for now.”

  Jean could feel the sorrow and hurt he was reliving, and didn’t say a word about it further.

  “So. Um. Where *are* we going?”

  “Forward,” said Nightcrawler. “Until I find something I recognise.”

  Oh *swell*… They were lost.

~

  “Jean?” Piotr poked his head around the door of the library, but found it unoccupied.

  Well, almost, at any rate.

  Xavier looked up from his book of choise, something big and leather bound. Large enough to be spread on the table, but not enough to merit a higher stool in order to see the pages properly. “Not here, I’m afraid. What is it, Piotr? I sense you’re worried about something.”

  The hefty Russian bit his lip and slipped in as quietly as his bulk allowed. “Jean is missing,” he said simply, not giving the hows or wherefores. He knew Xavier would quickly pick them up from his surface thoughts, anyway.

  Sure enough, Charles squinted a moment as he concentrated, and then his trademark worry-lines appeared. “I *did* sense her going out early this morning, but she’d set up so many psychic barriers I lost track of her once she left the Institute. But why the fuss about her whereabouts? Surely she’s aquitted herself enough times that nobody need worry over her safety in broad daylight.”

  Piotr sighed. “I think you’d better come and look at this. An article came on the news in the kitchen. There’s been an… incident in the sewers. Gambit thinks Jean may have gone there and been caught in the crossfire.”

~

  Warren greeted the government executives at the door. Everyone was out of sorts and short on sleep. He was both the leader of the venture and the only one experienced at playing to the camera in the middle of a crisis, making him the logical choice to show the executives around.

  “Welcome. We’re more than happy to show you the children, but please keep in mind that many of these children were raised in a lab until about a week ago and are somewhat short on the social graces.”

  Warren noticed Logan trying to make an unseen exit. It wouldn’t be good for a man with his rep to be seen here. With the experience of many years in the spotlight Warren gave the executives a grin and appeared mildly nervous of something the opposite direction of Logan. Those vultures among the croud immediately began scanning that area, looking to see what Warren didn’t want them to see. Worked every time.

*

  Warren continued into the Foundation, saying, “We’re on our way to the common room. Most of the children are still wary of new faces, so please be careful.” They walked into the room to see that the children had made what looked like blanket fortresses at first glance. After a moment, though, one noticed that the bars made out of string, stackable markers, and anything else narrow and handy over the doors.

  Warren asked the girl in the nearest “cell”, “What are you doing, Annika?”

  Anikka whispered, “ Benny heard Jamie tell Mr. McCoy that there were government people coming to see us. The scientists always had government guys stopping by to see how we were doing, and we thought maybe if they saw us in cells they wouldn’t take us away. I don’t wanna be experimented on again.”

  Just then the government officials walked far enough into the room for the children to see the uniforms. Some ran and hid behind Warrem. Others cowered in the back of their “cells.” A few searched out hiding places. Most either fled the room or started crying.

*

  The most notable instance was when one of the little boys in the back ran up to one of the officials and jumped on him. He yelled, “You took my sister! What did you do to her, General Allistar?” It was particularly notable since none of the officials had nametags or saw fit to introduce themselves, yet the boy got his name right. The General cut and ran.

  Warren took off after him, intent on stopping the man and finding out what he knew. He stopped up short as he turned the corner and saw that obviously Jamie had heard the boy’s shouts. There were two dozen of him sitting on the general. with more being added every time the general managed to get a limb free enough to hit Jamie.

*

  From and unseen corner Logan watched. If the government ignored this, he would be sure to pay the man a midnight visit that would never be forgotten. His years in the Weapon X project had taught him how to get answers.

*

  From the unseen security camera Forge watched, then turned his attention to the man’s computer files. If the man had any of his plans on any computer, Forge would find them. He thought for an instant, found the man’s home address, then sent out some of his bugs to photograph any writing they found there. Best to get a look at any paper plans as well.

~