Chapter Sixteen: Little Sister
Another Time, Another Place
It was her first time onto the battlefields. Father had held her back as long as possible. It had been the same for Bishop himself. Though they had been trained since childhood to fight, to protect themselves and all they believed in, their parents were overly strict about when one could prove his or her mettle on the bloodstained battlegrounds.
Bishop had heeded the call of war five years ago. Shard had champed at the bit for her chance, screamed and fought with their parents until thunder shook the heavens and claws unsheathed. They had contemplated sending her to the sanctuary of Muir Island, stopped only when Luke begged them to reconsider.
She walked toward him now, a leggy beauty of seventeen years clad in protective leathers. Her hair was colored blonde, distinguishing herself from their mother as her teenage glands demanded. Glowing eyes snapped with fire as she strode toward him.
He saw her, then, as a person rather than his little sister. She moved with a determined stride, literally oozing grace and primal splendor. Heavy combat boots pounded the packed earth beneath her feet. Her hands were smoothing the edges of her gloves, the line between her eyes betrayed nerves.
When she caught sight of him, her lips drew tightly together and she gave him a scowl worthy of their father.
“What in the name of hell are you doing here?”
Bishop regarded her coolly over the braids tossed carelessly over his shoulder.
“I’m with you, General’s orders.”
Shard shoved her hands onto her hips. “Mother put him up to this, I know she did.”
He merely arched a dark brow.
“I don’t need looking after! I’m trained, goddamnit.”
“Language,” Bishop barked. He drew himself up to full height and faced his sister. “I outrank you, Corporal, and you’d better remember that. When you’re in that uniform, you will follow orders and you will keep your mouth shut. Clear?”
Shard’s spine went ramrod straight at his harsh words. He knew his little sister, likely better than she knew herself. Years of having no other playmates had toughened them, strengthened the sibling bond present from her birth.
She would not be coddled. If Bishop wanted her to listen, he would pull rank on her. Telling her that she was his only sister, that he loved her, would only stroke that damned independent nature so strong in their DNA. She thirsted to prove herself worthy, to crawl out of the looming shadow of their parents.
Yes, he understood her very well.
“Yes, Sergeant,” she replied curtly. “What are your orders?”
Bishop turned on his heel and tossed her a sheet of paper almost negligently. She followed him, nearly running to keep up with his long stride.
“Our rear flank is weakening and the reinforcements were ambushed at Crystal River.” He spoke in the commanding tone he learned from Mother. “We are taking in a reserve unit to strengthen the line. Our main goal, however, is to bring them supplies and medical units.”
“Injuries?” Shard questioned as they pushed open the heavy steel door of the school turned headquarters.
“Several, though the death toll is remarkably low.”
“Ok,” Shard nodded as they strode down the corridor. It was filled with human and mutant soldiers, most awaiting orders. Sounds of the battle drifted in through broken windows.
He glanced at his sister as she straightened up even further. They pushed into the makeshift War Room, coming face to face with the force of nature that was their mother. She stood around a wide holo-map, indicating to the red dots that pinpointed the location of the enemy.
“You two are late,” she barked at her children as though they were grunt soldiers.
“My apologies,” Bishop answered as they took their places beside her.
Several other Rebellion leaders were gathered here. Some even believed Storm capable of complete nepotism. They had no idea she was harder on her own offspring, demanded more from them than she would any other.
Love insisted that she teach them to defend themselves, to survive when nature took her from them. Fate required that they use those skills in a war none of them had wanted.
“Bishop and Shard’s unit will move to strengthen the rear flank. Angel, I want your aerial team to provide some cover.”
“Yes, ma’am.” The blonde, winged mutant’s face was drawn seriously, though no amount of blood or battle could take the hope from his soft eyes.
“We have an hour to prep,” she continued. “Havok, Polaris, take your team and get Wolverine’s reinforcements back to base.”
Bishop shot a glance to his mother and then the girl standing beside him. He had not known that Father was leading the ambushed team. Worry pulled at his heart and from the slight tilt to his sister’s chin, she felt it as well.
Mother’s hands were steady when she turned to face them. The others were filing out of the room quickly, knowing their orders. When the family was left alone, their mother gifted them with a small, tense smile.
“I have not heard from him,” she said in a low tone. “There has been no contact at all.”
Neither Bishop nor Shard spoke. It was not often that the family was separated like this. Mother and Father usually ran missions together, to keep worry from distracting them. Bishop had taken to joining them some years ago. It was Shard’s turn now.
“He’ll be all right,” Bishop said softly.
“Course he will,” Shard piped up. She screwed her face into a mockery of their father’s scowl. “He’s the motherfuckin’ Wolverine, right?”
Neither scolded her for language. Mother’s hand rose, trembling slightly as her infamous guard came down. She hesitated for only a beat before giving in to the urge. Taking one of her children’s hands in each of hers, she threaded their fingers together, creating a tight circle of blood and love.
Bishop closed his eyes briefly, taking his sister’s free hand to complete the circle. She did not shy away or insist that she was too grown up for such things. Instead, she clung to him, each drawing strength from their center, their core.
Mother and Father had instilled in their children a deep need for family, had nurtured it even when the world began to fall down around their ears. If nothing else, Shard and Bishop were loved and that was more than many in this war torn world could claim.
“We have work to do,” Mother broke into his thoughts a moment later. She released their hands, stroking each cheek before wrapping them into a three-pronged embrace. “Be cautious, my children. You have already made me proud.”
Bishop, feeling emotion choke his throat, kissed his mother’s cheek. Shard followed suit, the two women sharing a trembling smile.
“Say hey to Pops for me, yeah?” Lizzie requested as she backed toward the door.
“Of course.”
Luke followed his sister, turning to look at his mother over his shoulder.
“She’ll do well.”
“I know,” Mother replied with a nod. “She is her father’s daughter.”
Bishop nodded, turned, and marched off to battle.
~**~
Now
She felt as though her body had been torn into shreds and tossed to scorching winds. Her stomach roiled even as she turned to face the assembled group. Her skin hurt from head to toe, muscles aching with the otherworldly trip she had submitted to so willingly.
There he was. Tall and proud, dark against the bright light, her brother stood as though to welcome her. She fought the need to overturn her stomach again, gloved fingers gripping the cool countertop to steady weak legs.
“Shard?”
At his soft call of her name, she smiled slightly.
“Bish.”
“What…” He was breathing erratically as he stepped to her.
In one moment, she was swept into the steady harbor of her beloved brother’s embrace. Uneasy from the travel, terrified of what she had come to do, she wrapped her weary arms about his neck, clinging for support to his hulking frame.
The others were of no matter to her. This man was her mission, to hell with his own. Forge had sent her back to him, to be his champion and support as she had been from the moment of her birth. They were two sides of the same coin, a matched set that seemed closer than the most intimate of twins.
“Lizzie,” he whispered, kissing her hair. “What are you doing here?”
Reality leaked through the hazy satisfaction of finding her brother again. Her mission loomed on the immediate horizon, forcing her to release him.
He stepped back, retreating and retracting that sanctuary she wondered if she would ever have again. Half-remembered memory sliced through her spinning mind. Mother’s tears, Father’s curses, Forge’s trembling shove into the portal.
Feeling the change in the light, knowing something else had come through, Shard grasped both of the plasma pistols holstered to her thighs.
“Nimrod.”
One word. Bishop turned, finding his rifle under the table. It was then that Shard caught sight of the others. A pretty blonde stood beside a protective young man. Mother reached for Father.
Oh, God, she thought with a private wince. They’re here.
“Where?”
Bishop’s commanding voice jarred her from sentiment. She had to complete her mission.
“I’m not sure,” she replied, charging her pistols. “Usually we just follow the screams.”
As if on cue, the terrible sound of frightened children pierced the tension. Mother and Father bolted from the kitchen, followed by the other two mutants she had no recollection of. They weren’t a part of her education, at least that she knew of. Everything was still somewhat foggy in her aching mind.
Bishop strode with her, the two locked in easy cadence as they readied their weapons and their hearts for battle. Children flooded the halls, lead by the elder among them to safety. Shard dismissed them without a thought. If she paused to think, she would succumb to the fear. If the fear took her, she would be useless to the battle, to the family she needed to protect.
As they rounded one corner of the mansion she had no memory of, they came upon a scene of horror.
Massive and evil, the white and red shrouded Nimrod floated easily in the front room. Several inches above the expensive Persian, the form of their most hated nemesis raised one deadly hand, pointing it to the blonde woman.
“NO!”
Bishop stepped forward, protecting the petite girl with his body. Shard easily flanked him, both pistols raised. In unison, the warriors fired lethal plasma charges at the mechanical heart of their foe, succeeding in pushing him back less than a foot.
“Move!” Shard ordered the young mutants behind her.
She tugged the girl out of the way, willing her body to phase into pure light. Mother was shouting to Father as Bishop continued plugging Nimrod with his rifle. The constant bombardment slowed the attacker’s movements, but not enough to even give the illusion that it was damaging the technological marvel.
“Hit me!”
Hearing Bishop’s call, Shard turned her hands to her brother, charging her body with a pulse of energy. It lashed out at her sibling, absorbed into his mutated body without pause. He converted it inside of him, striking back at Nimrod with more power than any weapon could muster.
“His armband!” Shard shouted as Nimrod was shoved outside. “Get his armband off! Stay clear of his hands!”
She didn’t know if they understood her, but the other mutants leapt into action. Given more space now, they encircled the malicious Nimrod, even as Storm and Shard took to the air.
Mother’s freezing winds seemed to pose a problem for Nimrod. Light burst forth from the blonde girl, dazzling even Shard’s mutated eyes. The dark man had shifted, becoming metallic before her eyes.
He managed to get close enough to Nimrod to grasp his arm, but the robotic menace was easily rid of him. Bishop continued his unrelenting barrage, charged with his sister’s unique mutation.
“Wolverine! Colossus!” Her brother was shouting in that tone she recalled from so many battlefields. “Distract him! Dazzler, Shard, blind him. Mother!”
“I understand,” Mother replied from her place beside her future daughter. The temperature dropped even more drastically. Had Shard been in her humanoid form, she might have been hindered by the cold.
Instead, she charged her body with light and flew down toward the battle. Darting in front of Nimrod, she blinded the robot, trailing light like a comet behind her. The one called Dazzler created what looked to be a torrent of multicolored light, following it up with a concussive charge that sent Bishop stumbling.
The confusion tactic was the only one that could work on the powerful Nimrod. As her father and the mutant known as Colossus crept closer, she brightened the nimbus surrounding her light-generated body. Nimrod swatted at her with a burning charge, but she avoided it easily.
Several seconds of silent battle ticked by, broken only by the sizzle of the air and a resounding clang of metal striking metal.
And then, all was quiet.
Shard shifted back into her humanoid form, landing gracefully beside her brother. Nimrod was gone and in her father’s hand lay the armband that was the key to their foe’s demise. He handed it to her silently, dark eyes watching her cautiously. Shard took it from him, shoving the broken contraption into her pocket as Bishop turned to her.
“Now,” he said on a soft sigh. “What the hell are you doing here?”
~**~
The girl was beautiful.
He watched her carefully, trying to keep his contemplation of this future child from being overt. Her skin was darker than his, though lighter than ‘Ro’s and Bishop’s. She had her mother’s hair, evidenced by the shocking white roots visible beneath the flaxen blonde.
Watching her, he could pick out the features that betrayed her parentage. ‘Ro’s nose, Logan’s lips, her father’s scowl, her mother’s smile. It was more evident in her, the mixture of her parents, or perhaps he was simple more adept at seeing it now.
The only mar to her beautiful face was the burned-black “M” branded into her left eye.
She accepted the cup of hot coffee gratefully, though she stayed close to her big brother. It was a defense, he thought with some surprise. She was nervous and afraid and therefore sought out the protector. Luke always protected his little sister, that much was written plain as day in the body language between them.
But, Logan amended his internal dialogue, he depended on her as well. Shard seemed to be Bishop’s softer side, the foil to his gruff warrior. The girl was just as tough, but they both softened in the downtime together.
He found himself proud that his children were so close. What was it like, he wondered, to depend on someone so wholly, to know they would be there come hell or high-water.
“It wasn’t pretty,” the girl was saying. Her rich, throaty voice was much like her mother’s. “Mother and I came into the room in time to see the Sentinels storm it. Bishop got through, but barely.”
“Sentinels?” Dazzler asked curiously as she toyed with the handle of her coffee mug.
“Robots,” Bishop explained. “Designed and deployed to round up and tag mutants.”
“That’s just nasty,” Dazzler commented with a grimace.
“Nimrod is the most deadly phase of Sentinels,” Shard continued. “He’s indestructible. Even if we do manage to blow him up, he just regenerates.”
“Amazing technology,” Beast murmured, looking interested and disgusted at the same time.
“Yeah,” Shard answered, sipping her coffee.
“When I was coming through the portal, Sentinels had located the base,” Bishop went on. “I left Father and Forge to fend for themselves.”
“Hey, Luke?” Shard interrupted almost conversationally. “What part of “need to know” didn’t you get during the briefings?”
He glared at his little sister in a gesture that looked more fitting to a seven year old. “I’ve had some issues.”
“You’ve always had issues,” she quipped. “I just didn’t realize they were this bad.”
Bishop sighed. “Shard.”
She mocked him. “Bishop.”
Logan turned his head to hide the amused smile. He shared a glance with Storm, enormously warmed and entertained by the easy relationship between their children.
“So, they know who we are?” She pressed.
“Yes.”
“Wonderful.”
Storm tilted her head at their daughter, regarding her openly. “Has anything changed in your timeline?”
Shard blinked owlishly, slowly lowering her coffee cup to the kitchen table. “What do you mean?”
A glance around followed by a quick sniff told Logan that everyone in the room had just tensed. Questions like that tended to herald bad news in this little crew.
“I left right after you did,” she told Bishop quickly. “How long have you been here?”
He shot Logan a look. “Two months.”
Shard’s lips formed a silent “o” of understanding. “OK, so you’re forgiven for spilling the beans.”
“Thanks,” her brother replied somewhat mockingly.
“Why would Forge have recalculated everything?” Bishop mused aloud.
His sister shook her head. “He didn’t. Nimrod did. We only figured out that he was coming through to kill you at the last second. They’d discovered our plans.”
“How?” Bishop demanded.
She shrugged. “I don’t know. All I know is bad guy came to kill big brother. Little sister take care of bad guy, save big brother. That’s all I needed to know.”
“Simpleton,” Bishop shot her half-heartedly.
“Nerd.”
“Children,” Ororo cut in wearily, the word and tone worn as though she had said it a million times.
“Sorry, Mother.” The children droned in unison.
“That’s almost creepy,” Dazzler chuckled. “They aren’t even born yet and she’s got ‘em whooped.”
Shard tossed the young girl a grin. “If she was your mother, you’d be whooped too.”
“I like her,” Dazzler said to no one in particular.
~**~
Magneto watched the footage carefully, pausing to restart it over and over again. They were a flawless team, he mused. Love bound them together, made them whole. A team as his Brotherhood was quickly proving they could not become.
He ruled them with fear and ideals. Storm commanded her troops with love and maternal affection. Was her way better than his? Perhaps. But he could not allow his children to become soft, not with what lay ahead for them all.
“She can’t be trusted.”
Turning from the screen, tucking away his silent contemplation, Magneto faced his darling Psylocke with a slightly paternal smile. Though he was tough, he was not heartless. He truly cared for many of his mutants.
“As I recall, Pyro said something eerily similar about you.”
“I didn’t defect from the other side,” she defended with a toss of her spiky, violet hair. Dark eyes reflected her concern, her unease.
“Yes, but she has given us useful information,” he muttered, gesturing to the laptop on which the video was playing. “Very useful.”
“Why?” Psylocke pressed. “She’s always been one of them. No boy on earth could shake a girl’s faith like that.”
“No?” Magneto questioned her, somewhat amused. “Either way, I am getting what I want. Bishop becomes more of a puzzle every day.”
Psylocke came around the edge of his metallic desk, grasping his aging hand in a manner quite unlike the distant psychic. Startled, he looked up into those unreadable eyes, wondering if her relationship with Pyro was to blame for this sudden change.
“Magneto, I’m begging you, leave him alone,” she pleaded, crouching low to look up at him. “No good can come from this.”
“You presume to tell the future now?”
“No,” she shook her glorious head, her beautiful face twisted with agony. “But I can have a hunch just as well as anyone. My hunch is telling me that this entire thing is bad news.”
Magneto took his hand from hers, looking toward the dirty window of his office.
“I know what must be done,” he said quietly. “And while you are my advisor and confidante, I will not be ordered.”
“Erik,” she pled again. “I’m only concerned for you.”
He smiled slightly, not bothering to look at her. “How remarkable. You actually believe that.”
As though he had physically struck her, the girl moved back. She stood, taking several steps from him and turning so that the smooth line of her back was facing him. Her survival after Alcatraz was nothing short of a miracle and she had sought him out in the aftermath.
Once the cure’s devastating effects began to fade, she had helped him regain his power, to build his legion of followers. She had done it all out of loyalty. Psylocke was Callisto’s steadfast companion, turning only to Magneto in the wake of her untimely death at the hands of Storm.
“You should get some rest, my dear,” he prodded, wanting his time alone.
She left without another word.
~**~
“He’s losing his mind, John,” she whispered as the light began to drift into darkness.
“I know,” he grunted from the bed, taking her hand weakly. Rogue had spent another evening borrowing powers, learning to master them so she could use them in battle. John did not have to wonder why she continually chose him.
Rogue had a taste for revenge and sought it again and again. Pyro, weak from her attentions, could feel the tension radiating from his lover. When she had shifted from easy fuck to companion was murky, but he was thankful for the ally given changing times.
“I can’t believe he keeps letting her do this to you.” Betsy came closer, placing her hand on his forehead. She telepathically scanned him, linking their minds briefly. John often called the gentle endearment a “psychic’s kiss”.
“She’s the favorite.” John answered, barely biting back the content sigh as she “kissed” him again.
“Doesn’t she realize he’ll betray her? Look at what he did to Mystique.”
He grasped her hand more tightly, feeling his strength coming back. It flooded in waves, swelling and ebbing, until he was returned to his pre-Rogue state. Things were unraveling fast for the Brotherhood. Several of their recent endeavors had ended badly, two deaths were on their heads now.
“Hey, Bets?”
“Mmm?” She hummed, her fingertips dancing over his brow.
John wanted to tell her that she could go to Storm for help, if anything happened to him. He needed her to understand that the X-Men could be allies, that they were not the villains he had wanted them to be. With aging came wisdom and the regrets for mistakes ate at him a little more every day.
Yes, he had hated the restraint Xavier put on them all, but…
“Come lay with me,” he whispered into the darkness.
If she was surprised, she never let on. Her long, lithe body slipped beneath the covered, curving into his with the knowledge of intimacy.
John curled her into his arm, kissed her hair tenderly. Maybe he could tell her, someday. Maybe after Magneto killed him, she would find sanctuary with them.
Maybe things wouldn’t be so bad after all.
