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Ororo’s skin was still smarting and nearly raw, now caressed by the cool night air.

She’d nearly scrubbed it off. She still didn’t feel clean.

Jean had made herself scarce, bidding her a telepathic goodnight. She did Ororo the favor of heading Moira off at the pass, but the stubborn doctor sent up a tea tray to Ororo’s loft, with the stiff injunctive that she expected her downstairs in the morning. She was worried sick. Ororo sighed.

~0~


Carmen Pryde couldn’t remember the last time he’d genuinely wanted to kill someone. His wife Terry stood behind him slightly, still weak-kneed and stunned. Kitty held her hand tightly, nearly wincing at her mother’s grip. She’d nearly lost her baby.

“I let you take my daughter from this house, with the understanding that she’d be safe with you.” When Piotr approached the door this time, allowing Charles to knock, Carmen nearly pulled it from the hinges. His breathless joy at seeing his daughter safe and sound was brief; his hug was nearly crushing, squeezing tears from her eyes.

“I’m sorry, Dad. I’m all right, really. It’s okay.” It was a lie. Kitty still didn’t feel okay, herself.

“My baby,” he whispered into her hair. Tears dripped from his eyes and wet her jersey. Jean repaired the damage done to her original outfit. The sleek uniform was nowhere in sight.

He reluctantly let Kitty go to her mother, who was already sobbing and shaking in the living room. His voice boomed over the sound of her hoarse cry.

“How dare you. How DARE you.”

“Mr. Pryde, I’m truly sorry this happened ““

“I could have you sued, and no court would argue with me. You show up here as easy as you please after I watched the restaurant where you took my daughter going up in flames on live news last night. My heart nearly stopped! No bodies, no signs of you people anywhere, except for three men whose identities they couldn’t even find. Their faces were burned off and couldn’t even be matched for dental records! Did you know those men? Onlookers said they attacked people who matched your description before they escaped from the building!”

“Please, Mr. Pryde, we’re all right! We didn’t know those men, they had no rational reason to have attacked us! They were…terrorists,” he offered, even though there was no way he could explain this. Nothing sounded plausible to him. Behind him, Piotr sighed under his breath. Charles swore he felt the giant cringe, keeping a tight grip on his wheelchair handles.

Ororo was strangely silent, barely standing inside the door of the foyer. Logan never took his eyes from her on the front porch, chewing his cigar. He wanted to be near her, but her body language and scent were sending signals for him to back off. In the meantime, Jean was offering to fetch Terry a glass of water and pulling up one of her dining room chairs for her to sit. She was overwrought, while her husband was about to lose it.

“Why couldn’t you have phoned? Were they holding you for ransom? I would have paid anything, do you hear me? Anything to get my daughter back, if I had to! Or was that it? Is this school of yours some kind of scam to get my money? Lure me in, kidnap my daughter until I pay?” His nostrils were flared; Carmen’s broad chest was heaving with each word, and his face was florid with rage.

“Never. Never, Mr. Pryde!”

“You’re staying right here. You can stay at your school right here in Deerfield,” Terry pronounced. Her tears hadn’t dried yet, but her face was hard. “I wanted an opportunity to expand Kitty’s horizons. Nearly dying wasn’t what we had in mind, Professor Xavier. Give us one reason why we shouldn’t have you arrested.”

“Mom, it’s not his fault! It’s Miss Frost’s!” Kitty blurted out. Her father spun on her, agape.

“What!”

“Dad ““ He stared open-mouthed, jaw working. Jean gathered her wits and concentrated on him. Scott felt the shift in the room, a tingling awareness that Jean was using her powers. He assumed she merely meant to calm Kitty’s mother, seeing how she was already trying to soothe her with a cool drink.

Like that, Carmen’s shoulders relaxed. A brief look of surprise crossed his features before he brightened.

“Who wants a mimosa? Terry just made some. Here, sit, sit.” He herded Piotr toward the dining room table, relieving him of his charge. Carmen wheeled the professor toward the table, moving aside one of the chairs to make room.

Logan, Ororo and Scott stood bewildered across the room.

“What the fuck?” Logan whispered under his breath. He felt just as unsettled when neither of his teammates made any effort to scold him.

“Goddess…”

“Wow…”

Jean simply offered to help Terry with the dishes she had neglected in the sink that morning while they waited for word from the hospital. They’d been calling all day and night to see if a girl matching Kitty’s description had ever been admitted to the ER.

Ororo gradually made her way into the kitchen. Carmen was asking questions of the Professor, enthusiastically grilling him about the school and when the semester started. Ororo watched Jean’s smile toying with the corners of her mouth as she set plates and cups dripping into the rack.

Tell me that wasn’t you.

Then I’d be lying.

You manipulated them.

They were worried sick and apoplectic. Their daughter’s home safe. Jean paused a moment, catching her own reflection briefly in a large silver serving spoon. Her eyes held a note of gold radiance, nearly imperceptible, as she gently nudged the Prydes. Ororo watched her, transfixed.

This isn’t like you. The Professor wouldn’t approve.

Charles will be fine. He’s already fine! They’re already easing up on him. We don’t have to stay long.

You know what I’m talking about. Don’t play games with me, sister. Jean jerked her eyes from her task, staring at Ororo.

“I won’t,” she whispered. “Everything’s fine.” She took Ororo’s hand in her damp one and squeezed it. “We’ll all be fine now. Promise.”

Ororo silently began to dry and puttered around in the cupboards, finding where everything went until Terry bade them both to sit. The scent of frying bacon filled the kitchen minutes later, and soon all the adults in the room except for Piotr were laughing over anecdotes from Kitty’s childhood that turned her red as a beet.

“Geez.”

“You’re mother’s headed for the photo albums.”

“Can I just die now?”

“Nyet.”

“Can I at least sink into the floor?”

“Not until you tell your parents.”

“Aw, man…”



~0~


Every now and again, Ororo needed to be alone. On this particular night, she didn’t fill her solitude with a walk in the woods or time in the greenhouse.

She was frozen. It was futile to try to clear her head.

Emma dug up her nightmares and revealed them for all to see.

It was like being raped all over again, except she was defenseless.

Ororo took touch seriously. Her gift was a blessing and a curse. Those who witnessed her putting them to use were awed by her fierce beauty and control. Yet they wouldn’t draw close in the wake of such force and power, at risk of being struck down. Thorns of a rose.

Her haughty demeanor kept strangers at bay at the same time that it fascinated them. Her beauty was fascinating and striking; men and women alike gave Ororo a second look, reluctant to avert their eyes. Many were still intimidated, too intimidated to approach.

Her friends “ her family “ knew her bright, gentle soul, but they didn’t know the full scope of her heartbreak.

To touch Ororo was to be trusted, even cherished. It was sacrosanct.

The psychic attack left her more devastated than a physical one.

Jean swept in like an avenging angel, nearly harnessing fire at her fingertips. Ororo shivered. That wasn’t the Jean she knew, even though she praised the Bright Lady that she arrived when she did.

Moreover, it scared her, that heady feeling of standing by her side, feeling that same abandon and freedom of unleashing her powers. She nearly killed Emma.

It shouldn’t have given her a rush. Whatever wild impulses that had a hold on Jean were beginning to infect Ororo, too. She still felt too vulnerable…

Her musings were interrupted by a knock on the door.

“I wish to be alone, thank you.” The door creaked open despite her low, civil warning.

Wolverine.

Or Logan. Ororo realized that this was the man standing in her doorway, not the soldier. His body was broad, taking up most of the space in the doorframe as he leaned against it. His eyes were onyx chips, studying her with intensity. His gaze pinned her; she longed to turn her back on him, but she couldn’t.

“Please go back downstairs. I don’t want company.”

“I wanna talk.”

“I’m in no mood to listen.”

“Then I want ya ta talk ta me. Somethin’ awful happened in that damned call, ‘Ro. We got ya back in one piece, on the outside.”

“And?”

“But yer still bleedin’.”

“That’s ridiculous. I just need time to gather my thoughts. We had a difficult ordeal. You can recover from it your way, and I will do it in mine.” This time she did turn from him, but she felt his eyes burning into her back.

She didn’t know how vulnerable and beautiful she looked, with her silhouette outlined in the faint light shining in from the balcony. The rich, earthy fragrance of her myriad plants tickled Logan’s nostrils and mingled with her own scent. The two were nearly indistinguishable, except for the hint of warm flesh and her hair, washed in rain water every day. Her spine was stiff and straight, but her head was slightly bowed as she stared at the floor. With her back to him, she worried her lower lip with her teeth.

Don’t go. “Isn’t there a stripper bar waiting for its best customer somewhere?”

“Already paid my tab,” he grunted, but there was little humor in his voice. “That Frost bitch did somethin’ to ya, besides just lockin’ ya up in the dark. Didn’t she.”

“It’s none of your affair.”

“The hell it ain’t. Look at ya, darlin’. Ya didn’t know when ya were gonna get out. Ya hate dark, closed-up spaces. I know that about ya by now.”

“You know nothing.”

“Wrong. I felt yer heartbeat and heard yer pulse back in that cave, on the island. That wasn’t the only time ya reacted like that since we met. She locked ya up, and ya couldn’t use yer powers. She did that ta all of us, ‘Ro, but we’re here. Yer alive, and we’re home an’ safe. Part of ya’s still stuck in that cell, relivin’ it. Ya gotta let go.”

“No. You have to leave.”

“Uh-uh. Yer up here, pent up in the dark. That don’t make a helluva lotta sense. Speakin’ of which, it’s gettin’ stuffy in here, darlin’.” He walked right past her, close enough for the sleeve of his flannel shirt to brush her arm.

He was like a bothersome little boy, stubborn and unflappable.

“If you’re not comfortable, then feel free to ““

“I’ll be fine in a minute.” He threw open her balcony doors, letting in a cool draft of autumn air. He stepped out and reached into the pocket of his snug, faded jeans. He took out his pearl-handled Zippo and a Cuban cigar, tearing off the end with his teeth.

“Don’t light that. I won’t abide smoking in my loft, Wolverine!”

“I ain’t in yer loft. I’m outside, princess.” That blasted man! She watched him cavalierly lighting the stogie, puffing on it and sending tiny clouds of acrid smoke into the air, but he was correct. The wind was currently sweeping the smell downwind. Ororo helped it along, kicking up a slight breeze. She hoped the chill would discourage him, and perhaps send him back inside.

And yet, wouldn’t that defeat the purpose?

“Nice moon tonight.”

“You didn’t come up to tell me about the sky.” She contemplated it. It was huge and full, flanked by glittering stars. He turned his face slightly so she could see his profile nearly looking over his shoulder toward the sound of her voice.

“Bein’ up there instead of here might take yer mind off of what happened.”

“Nothing will take my mind off of what happened.” Her voice became hard. “That’s not something you forget.” She joined him on the balcony reluctantly. If you couldn’t beat ‘em, join ‘em.

“Ya don’t hafta tell me twice about not bein’ able ta take yer mind off the stuff that tears ya apart, but bottlin’ it up ain’t gonna help.”

“You think you just know it all.” Ororo folded her arms beneath her breasts.

“Ya. I do. I know plenty about pain, ‘Ro. Don’t think ya have the monopoly on people walkin’ into yer mind and doin’ as much damage as they can and tryin’ ta break ya.” There was a crack in his veneer. He chewed roughly on the cigar and leaned over the rail, mastering his thoughts. “Back when I was processed, darlin’, some mean men did some mean things t’my mind.”

“Processed?”

“I wasn’t born with metal bones, ‘Ro, or hadn’t ya guessed?”

“Be snippy elsewhere, Wolverine. I didn’t ask you to come up here.” Then she sighed. “How?”

“Eh?”

“How did they…process you?”

“They put me through hell.” He held out his cigar. “Ya sure ya couldn’t use one of these?”

“No thanks.” She wrinkled her nose. He was stalling.

“Puts hair on yer chest.”

“That explains a lot…” Silently she perused him with her eyes. His had tiny crinkles at the corners. Fine bristles of hair covered his forearms and the backs of his hands, and a sprinkle of it peeked over the collar of his undershirt. Logan was very, very masculine, from his scent to his stance.

“Don’t know what yer missin’.”

“I’ll leave it up to my imagination.” She was sorely tempted to summon a brief rain shower to extinguish it…and him.

“It’s funny. I can’t remember the first time I had a smoke. Then there’s some things that I remember like I’m still livin’ the moment, darlin’. Have ya ever been scalded? By hot metal?”

“No.” Her stomach clenched nervously, unsure of what he about to tell her. Pity churned inside of her, as well as revulsion for what one human being could do to another.

“Eh. Then ya don’t have much of a point of reference. They plunged me into a big tank of fluids. They gave me a mask ta breathe through, but the stuff was full of narcotics. Dulled my senses. Deprived me of my scent and touch, and my hearing, except fer what they whispered into my ear through their little microphones. Know what they told me?”

“Tell me.” She’d gradually leaned beside him against the balcony railing. Their elbows were touching. There was something vaguely soothing about touching him.

“Yer about ta become a new man.” He took a long drag and blew it out through pursed lips. “That ain’t the first time in my life someone’s lied ta me, darlin’, but that was the worst, fuckin’ hands down. They pumped me full of metal. Adamantium. Imagine someone pourin’ the fire of the sun straight into yer veins. I woke up in hell. Screamin’. Beggin’ ‘em ta let me die. I was practically drownin’ in that tank.” His face was stoic.

Beside him, hers filled with sorrow. The wind picked up, chilling him through his shirt, but he didn’t care.

“I wanted ta tear my skin off. Anything ta take away the pain. I remember the sound of shattering glass, just this big, hollow explosion. First thing I heard as I got out. I smelled my own blood, tons of it. Then I saw these.” He slowly extended his claws, palm down, so she could see them break through his firm flesh and heal around the punctures, encasing his talons neatly and snugly. It was gruesome, yet breaktaking. “I wasn’t any fuckin’ new man. They made me a monster. I was a science project. And they weren’t done with me. I saw ‘em starin’ in through this big window, just watchin’ me ta see what I’d do. Know what they said next?”

“No.” She swallowed around a huge lump.”

“It’s a success.” He shrugged, sheathing his claws and throwing his hands wide. He bumped her in the process, stunning her out of her horror.

“That’s…inhuman.”

“So’m I now, darlin’. So’m I.” His voice was soft but full of pain. “I killed ‘em, Killed ‘em all. Because they killed an important part of me. They took my mercy. They took my soul. Ya only get one in this lifetime.” He peered askance at her. “I heard ya. Ya were screamin’ when Jeannie and I found ya. And then I saw what everything that happened did to ya. Ya had that look in yer eye, like a woman that had nothin’ left ta lose. Like someone stole yer soul.”

“Because she did.” The words tripped out of her mouth before she could stop them.

“No she didn’t. Cuz ya didn’t let her. Ya didn’t back down. I felt yer body’s rhythms as soon as I ran inside. Caught yer scent. Heard yer pulse. She didn’t break ya, even if she tried.” The clouds drifted across the moon, obscuring its face and extinguishing the stars. A low rumble of thunder raised the hairs on the back of Logan’s neck. “If ya hide away like this and hole up in the dark, she’ll win. It’ll be like she broke ya.”

“The hell you say!”

“What did she do to ya, darlin’?”

“You wouldn’t understand!”

“I’m the only one here that’ll understand it better than you even do! You’ve got pain, darlin’? I’m all about pain! And I’ll be damned if I’m gonna let it eat you up like it did me!” He caught her hand when she tried to flee, backing away from the railing. She refused to turn her back on him, unwilling to weaken herself even to get away.

“Don’t. Let go of me.”

“I can’t. Not til ya tell me what she did to ya.”

“Why, blast you, WHY?” The thunder found its voice. It rolled through the sky and suddenly blossomed, almost shaking the balcony beneath his feet. His eyes dilated and his nostrils flared. He could feel it racing through his veins.

She owned the storm. She was brandishing it over his head.

“Because I wanna take away yer pain!”

“Then LET GO!” Her eyes flared bluish white, crackling with electricity. She called lightning down from the sky, using her own body as a lightning rod. The force knocked him back, smacking him against the balcony door. He bit his tongue with the impact, tasting blood, and the back of his head throbbed as she pinned him with her wind.

She was in control now. “Don’t ever dare to hold me back! I won’t tolerate it from you, or anyone else. Not the White Queen, or anyone who tries to use me for ““ She hesitated. The lightning danced overhead, as though beckoning for her to come play.

“Someone tried ta use you.” He could barely hear his own voice over the thunder and wind.

“I’m not some helpless girl anymore, Logan! No one touches me unless I allow it! I’m the one in control! No one can lock me up and bury me in the ground! I’m not powerless! I’m not weak! I still have a soul. I still have a soul…” Her voice shook and broke right before she emitted a scream that he felt all the way in his bones and gut.

Downstairs in the kitchen, Jean looked up from her tea, fright blooming on her face. Scott froze as he was about to take his next shot at the pool table while Piotr and Kurt craned their heads toward the ceiling.

“By the saints!” Sean cried, staring out the window at the storm that had whipped itself up out of nowhere. The trees on the property tossed as easily as wind chimes.

“I know yer not helpless. Yer strong, darlin’. Yer cool hand Luke and a lot less hardheaded than me, but ya can’t do this alone.”

“I’ve always done it alone. I have no one. No family. No roots. No one to hear me when I…I ““

“I hear you.”

She stood staring at him, shaking her head in denial. Her hands clenched, reaching for something intangible. Wind whipped and tore at their clothing. Her hair blew around her face, which was filled with agony.

“I was buried. I was five.” The lightning still sliced through the darkness, illuminating her face. Logan was no longer held against the unyielding brick once she realized the threat of his grip had passed. “The ceiling came down on top of us, and I felt my mother…I felt her wrap herself around me and hold onto to me so…tight.”

He pictured her. Young and innocent and unaware.

“Fuck,” he hissed miserably. “Darlin’, I’m sor ““

“She was beside me. I tried to wake her up, but I couldn’t. I wanted my mother. I wanted her to hold me. She wouldn’t wake up and take me out of the dark.” His skin stung from the rain lashing against him, so cold it burned. He’d lost his Cuban a while ago. “I was all alone. And I ran away.”

“Then what? How did ya end up here?”

“I almost died again before Charles found me. I was in the desert. I don’t know where I was going. You’re right. Some memories are harder to bring back. All I remember was the pain. My feet burned and I was so hungry I was about to pass out. A man stopped his truck and offered me water. He smiled at me. He said he wanted to give me a ride.”

“How old were ya?”

“Twelve. I don’t even really know. I don’t know how many days or weeks or months it had been since she was gone. I had nothing left to lose. But he still stole my soul. That man tried to rape me. His hands were rough, and he smelled bad and he hurt me when he knocked me down. His hands bruised me, and scratched me when he tried to pull off my clothes. I cried. I told him to please stop. I had to make him stop.”

“Of course ya did.”

“He had a knife under the seat. It must have slid free when he pulled to a stop.” She was shivering, but not from the cold or the beating rain. “I know you know what it feels like.”

“What, darlin’?”

“When you pierce someone’s flesh. When you stick it in them and watch them fall. I know. I know how that feels.” There was no pride in the knowledge, nor acceptance. Her chest heaved, “Go. Please.” He wasn’t supposed to her so raw and exposed and out of control. He wasn’t supposed to know her weakness.

“Know what else I know? Every day that I wake up, that’s one more time that I survived. Ya made it out, ‘Ro. Not only that, but ya saved the day fer that kid. She made it home ta her family after we brought that building down, and I know ya gotta take cold comfort in that. YOU were the first one she asked fer help. She knew she could rely on you. Yer the coolest head in this place, darlin’. Yer strong and steady, not weak. Yer not helpless, but ya protect the ones who are.”

“I almost failed. I couldn’t fail.”

“Ya didn’t. Ya saved her life. Ain’t anything ta sneeze at, darlin’.”

“She was depending on me.”

“That’s because she knew she could. That’s high praise. I know why she feels that way. I depend on ya, too.” He stood before her, close enough for her to feel the heat from his body and to watch the faint outline of his pupils as his eyes flicked over her. “I know ya can take care of yerself just fine, ‘Ro, but I can’t see ya suffer. Out of all the memories I have stuck in my head and wakin’ me up at night, those are the ones that give me the most hell.”

Blue eyes probed black. They were locked on each other. His fingers lightly brushed hers before she collected them in her grasp and squeezed. She opened her mouth to speak.

Holding him took higher priority. When she reached for him he caught her and felt her heart pound and skip.

The embrace was crushing and vital, and it wrung tears from her eyes, pouring down her cheeks. He felt the inadvertent, sharp scrape of her fingernails in his hair as she clutched it, craving his comfort. There was so much strength in her slender arms and willowy body, and so much need in her voice.

“Don’t let go.”

“I won’t.”

His arms never loosened their grip. Her low sobs were broken and robbed her breath. He smelled her salty tears, almost tasting them until he realized they were his, forced from him by her anguish.

“I thought about you. Locked up in that cage.” Her admission surprised him. “I couldn’t bear it.”

“I managed.” It was a lie. He’d hated it as much as she had, for different reasons.

They’d made him feel like an animal again.

“I don’t like you very much.”

“I got that. Ya put out my smoke.”

“I can’t watch you be hurt. Or watch you hurt yourself.”

“Ditto.”

“You’re rude, arrogant and hardheaded.” She buried her face in his damp shirt, inhaling his scent. Her hands stroked his back, kneading the knots of solid muscle. “You think you can just barge in anywhere you please, any time.”

“So what’s yer point?” He rubbed his cheek against the satiny smoothness of her throat. “Yer uppity, uptight and ya have a stick up yer butt. And yer high-falutin’ an’ bossy, too.”

“You’re some piece of work.”

“Look who’s talkin’.”

BAMF!

“I heard you scream, fraulein, is anything the matter? Ach!” Logan and Ororo sprang apart and choked on the noxious cloud of brimstone. “Why is it every time I see you two lately, you’re both soaking wet?”

“Everything’s fine, Kurt.”

“Ya know it smells like ya cut one when ya do that, right ‘Elf?” Logan wrinkled his nose and coughed, fanning the air.

“Can I go down and tell the others not to panic?”

“It wouldn’t hurt,” Ororo agreed.

“Are you all right?”

“I feel…better.” She heard Logan clear his throat behind her.

“Gut.” She caught the look of relief on his face before he ‘ported away.

Logan.

She turned to him. Confusion made her bite her lip.

“What…”

“Ya don’t hafta say anything if ya don’t want, ‘Ro.”

“Thank-“

“I got it, I got it.” He flipped the words over his shoulder as he retreated. “See ya downstairs.”

He was gone, just like that.

“Drat him. Blast that man…that MAN!”

But the sky subsided to a dim rumble, and the stars drifted out once again.

She did feel better.


~0~


“Mister Howlett? Time for your pills.”

“I hate pills,” Logan grumbled. “Can swear yer all just tryin’ ta embalm me before I’m even dead with all this shit.” He stared balefully at the tiny white paper cup holding two tablets. Matt sighed.

“Bottoms up.” He handed him a second cup of room temperature water. Logan tossed back the pills and grabbed the other cup, making a face before he downed it.

“There. Ya happy?”

“Yup.”

“Yer a pip, kid.”

“You know what I’m gonna ask today, right?”

“Whaddya wanna know?”

“Did you ever talk with Ororo again about what happened? And what about that Proudstar dude? Did he step off?”

“Naw. He kept pokin’ his nose around just ta piss me off. It ain’t like I blamed him. Everyone was worried about ‘Ro after what happened. But things changed a lot when the kid came ta the school.”

“I can’t believe her parents just let her go.”

“Jeannie had somethin’ ta do with that. And the kid was still so crazy about Petey an’ ‘Ro, even if most of the rest of us scared her ta death.

Problem is, I don’t think she was even there at the school fer a week before we ended up in another pickle. Poor kid. Bless her little heart.” Logan was already taking the brake off his wheelchair and started to turn it toward the bedroom door before Matt obliged him. When a man needed his smoke, he needed his smoke.

“All we wanted ta do was help her learn more about her gifts an’ protect her. Her parents trusted us with her safety. Thing is, she spent more time saving us. Again an’ again. This time, though, she brought help none of us expected.”


~0~

“Ororo…this place is HUGE.” So were Kitty’s eyes, two brown saucers of awe.

“Do you like it, Kitten? I can show you to your room, if you like. You’ll have a chance to freshen up before I give you the tou-“

“You said there was a pool? And a gym? And a lake? Where am I sleeping? What’ve you got to eat? Can I still take dance lessons? Are there any other kids my age?” She fired question after question without taking a breath. Ororo’s grin widened with each word, and she shook her snowy head.

“Take it easy. Let’s go see your room first. Moira doesn’t like things left in the hall.” Kitty grabbed her duffle and jacket eagerly while Piotr easily hefted her trunk behind them. Kitty peered back behind them and gave him a shy wave. He smiled and winked back.

They climbed the first flight of stairs and turned right, heading halfway down the hall. Kitty’s shoes clicked against the polished hardwood floors.

“Who cleans this place?”

“We all pitch in, but Dr. MacTaggart is the housekeeper. She runs a tight ship,” Ororo explained. She turned the knob and let the door swing open into a sunlit, spacious bedroom. “Here it is. Do you like it?”

“Wow. Oh, wow!” Kitty tossed her duffle into the corner and turned in a slow circle.

The room showed elements of Ororo’s impeccable taste, but it was a teenaged girl’s paradise. There were little throw pillows and a fuzzy pink rug setting off a bookcase full of bestselling action and science fiction novels. The bed was a four-post canopy done in soft pastel colors. Sheer curtains filtered the light but still revealed a perfect view of the grounds. The room included a desk, leather chair and computer that had Kitty salivating.

“Somebody pinch me,” she squealed.

“Is it all right “ OOF!” Kitty spun and caught Ororo in a tight hug. Her arms drifted up and gently embraced her back.

“I love it. Thank you so much.” She drew back and grinned. “I’m gonna call my parents and ask them to send my posters!” She peered around the room. “Where’s the phone?”

“There’s one downstairs. We can get one for in here later if you like.” Ororo watched her poke around the room. “We want you to feel at home here, Kitten.”

Kitty turned to face her and noticed something wistful in Ororo’s face and stance. She was serene, but sad. “Can we do something today?”

“Do something? What did you have in mind?”

“I dunno. Go to the movies, or something? Just us girls?”

“Would you like me to invite Jean?”

“She’s always with Scott.” Kitty wrinkled her nose.

“She loves a good chick flick as much as the next person. She’s also an ice cream addict. You two will get along fine.”

“I guess. I know. It’s just…she’s nice, and everything. She scared me, though. It was weird having her in my head.”

“How about the professor? He’s also a telepath, you know. Not telekinetic like Jean, but he has a powerful mind.”

“My chemistry teacher says I do, too,” Kitty quipped. Ororo tsked under her breath but smiled.

“Smarty pants. If you like, we can take in a matinee. I’ll let Moira know we’ll be home for dinner.”

“Are Moira and that Sean guy going out?”

“They haven’t mentioned as much.” But Ororo had pondered that lately, too. There were unresolved feelings and tensions afoot in the mansion between the good doctor and the retired Interpol operative. Ororo wasn’t blind to the way Charles seemed to watch them intently whenever they occupied the same room.

“They’d make a cute couple.” Kitty dug into her duffle for her denim jacket. “He kinda looks at her the same way that Logan guy looks at you.” Ororo felt her cheeks flush.

“Do you like butter on your popcorn, Kitty? I’ll go knock on Jean’s door! Go ahead downstairs!” Ororo nearly dashed from the room. Kitty huffed.

“Was it something I said?”


~0~


“What’s going on? Where are you headed, mein freund?” Kurt flicked his tail back and forth as he watched John cram a stack of folded shirts into a suitcase.

“Home. My mom’s not feeling all that great, and it’s making Jimmy fret. He needs some time with his big bro. And I need some time away from this joint.”

“That’s fine, I suppose, but I thought you were getting settled here. What’s wrong?”

“It’s a big house, ‘Elf. But it’s crowded. And this whole ‘team’ thing’s crampin’ my style. I’m all for fightin’ the good fight, but I need a vacation.”

“Does the Professor know your agenda?”

“I’ll tell him on my way out. All he needs to know if that I’m gonna be gone, when I’m gone. If he needs any more details than that, he’ll hafta fish around inside my head for ‘em.”

“It wouldn’t hurt to tell everyone goodbye.”

“They’ll quit blubberin’ eventually.” Kurt chuckled.

“Call us to let us know when you make it there.”

“I won’t talk to strangers or take any wooden nickels.” He punctuated his promise with a sharp zip of the suitcase, fastening it. “On second thought, I got one goodbye I wouldn’t mind makin’ before I blow this joint.”

*

“Come to the movie with us,” Jean nagged. Her arms wound themselves around Scott’s waist as he eyed his reflection. He deftly whacked the razor against the edge of the sink, dislodging a blob of stubble and foam.

“Can’t. I’m meeting the Professor later today at the studio. I want to be there to escort him home.”

“Ororo’s going.”

“Ororo’s on point to meet us there. I briefed her already; and the cinema’s not far from the TV station.” Jean pouted as Scott scraped another patch of skin clean. The bathroom was thick with the scent of steam and shaving lotion as he got ready. Jean was already fresh and pert in jeans and a white sweater. She’d woven her hair into a French braid, using her telekinesis. Scott complimented the look, but he felt more unsettled that she was flaunting her powers so much more frequently than before.

“I guess I can’t blame you,” Jean admitted. “I almost wish he would’ve canceled his slot on that show. Stryker’s audience is almost as bad as Springer’s.”

“Tell me about it.” He sighed as he wiped his face dry. Jean’s fingertips ran down the smooth, warm line of his back. He gripped her wrist to make her stop, then wrapped her arms around his own waist, letting her spoon against him. “Don’t be a brat, Jean. Let me finish getting ready.”

“You are ready,” she argued. She rubbed her cheek against the crest of his shoulder. “Mmmmmm…” She nipped at his flesh, making sounds of approval in her throat. Scott’s abdomen jumped beneath her touch.

“Jean…!”

“I can help you pick out your outfit. You have plenty of time.”

“Quit it! Geez…Jean!” he yelped. He batted away her hands as she tried to untie his towel from around his waist. Her eyes were mischievous and sexy peering over his shoulder at him.

She wouldn’t concede defeat. That was where her TK came in handy.

The traitorous towel unwound itself from his waist and flew across the room, landing on the bed. He whipped around to face her, jaw tight and skin flushed.

“JEAN!”

“All I need is a few minutes. You won’t be sorry, Scott.”

“No. I’ll be late!” He felt the fuzzy texture of her angora sweater tickling his bare skin, pebbling his nipples. She was grinning like a Cheshire cat as she backed him up against the edge of the sink.

His protests died on his lips as her fingers crept over his hips, clutching them as she stepped between his feet. Jean kissed him long and hard and felt keen satisfaction as he began to respond.

One piece at a time, her clothing landed on the bathroom rug.

Ororo?

Yes, sister?

You two go on without me. I’ll send Scott to meet you at the TV station.

What happened? Did he get tied up?

In a way…yes.

Downstairs, Ororo flushed at the emotions transmitting themselves over their psi-link and heard a note of husky, seductive laughter in Jean’s thoughts.

“Kitten, why don’t we just go on by ourselves?” Kitty beamed in relief and went to get her jacket.

Ororo waited in the foyer, absently sorting through the mail on one of the side tables. She heard heavy footsteps thudding toward her and turned to face John. She eyed him curiously, noticing his suitcase. Her brow wrinkled in concern.

“John? You’re leaving?”

“I’m takin’ a little trip home, babe. Don’t worry yer pretty little head.” His smile was lazy and sly, and she sighed in amusement.

“I know better than to worry about you. You seem to thrive on it, anyway.” She reached for his arm, gently rubbing it. “You miss your family.”

“They need ta see me. They ain’t gonna believe any of the stuff I’ve seen, just hearin’ me tell ‘em about it on the phone or in an email. And I need ta whip my kid brother Jimmy into shape.”

“Fair enough. Keep in touch.”

“Keep on bein’ sexy.” As usual, her stomach felt fluttery when he stared at her that way, like he wanted to eat her up. He removed her hand from his arm and raised it to his lips, steaming her knuckles with his kiss.

“Unhand yon fair maiden,” Kurt warned.

“What’re you gonna do about it, Elf?”

“Save all the fraulein’s attentions for myself,” he answered simply. “And you have a plane to catch.”

“Spoilsport,” he grumbled. He dipped his lips to Ororo’s knuckles once more. “Bye, beautiful.”

“Be safe.” She felt wistful as he closed the door behind him.

Logan’s hard embrace and how safe it made her feel lingered in the back of her mind.

*

Downtown Manhattan:

“Let us know how we can make you more comfortable, Professor Xavier. We go live in ten.”

“Thank you,” he replied fondly, smiling at the young production assistant as she adjusted the mic on his lapel.

Despite his tranquil demeanor, Charles’ gut was tied in knots. The audience members slowly filled the enormous studio, milling like ants and coveting the seats up front. He spied two teenagers, roughly Kitty’s age, unrolling what looked like an enormous poster.

Fuck off, Muties!

An usher wearing a tee shirt that said “Security” hurried over and warned them to put it away. Charles still felt discomfited.

His appearance today had to be worth the risk.

Across the stage, Stryker was being prepped by the makeup artist in front of a narrow vanity while he sipped bottled water. Briefly Charles caught his gaze and offered him a perfunctory smile.

William Stryker was spry and lean for a man in his sixties. He wore his expensive black suit impeccably and silver hair well groomed. His face was unlined, save for creases in his forehead, the sign of a man who frequently scowled.

His expression as he met Charles’ gaze was guarded. His nod was brief before he ignored him. Charles was uneasy.

Moments later, Neal Conan followed the camera man’s cue that they were ready. The lights in the studio rose, illuminating the stage.

“Good afternoon, and welcome to the Eyes on the World segment of our program today. I have two esteemed guests today in our discussion on mutants, and their place in our society. I’d like to first introduce Reverend William Stryker, founder of the Friends of Humanity, a nondenominational church right here in our own fair city with a congregation of…” he checked his note cards, “fifty thousand members strong! That’s amazing, Mr. Stryker!”

“Call me William,” he offered, nodding and waving to the audience to a round of applause that rippled through the studio.

“My other guest is Professor Charles Xavier, author of several books on the subject of mutants, a proprietor of an academy for gifted students ““

“The School for Gifted Youngsters, yes,” Charles interjected.

“And an expert in the field of human genetics.” The applause was less vigorous as the audience assessed the wheelchair-bound man in his expensive gray wool suit. Charles drummed his fingers against his knee.

“William, I have to ask you the question in everyone’s mouth: What’s your position on people that our society labels as mutants?”

“That answer’s very simple, Neal, and I’d be glad to share it with you.” He drew himself up proudly. “Mutants aren’t people. Period.”

*


Later:


“One of my friends gave me spoilers on what happened a week ago, so I saw that ending coming,” Kitty complained.

“It was still fun to get out and do something,” Ororo soothed as they filed out of the packed theater. Her lips still tasted salty from the bucket of popcorn they shared. Absently she wondered what Logan was doing. He was nowhere to be found when they left the house.

“Oh, I had fun going with you,” Kitty agreed, beaming. She tugged Ororo’s sleeve and nodded toward the small arcade by the exit. “Can we play a few rounds of Tekken before we take off?”

Goddess, please, no… “Ooo. Probably not,” Ororo pouted. “I have to meet Scott at the studio. I wanted to see the last of the taping and ask them if we can have a copy for posterity. It’s not every day the Professor gets to be on TV.”

“You guys sure do,” Kitty pointed out.

“Not on purpose.”

“Still, it’s crazy how scared everybody is of you guys. Of mutants.”

“If the public was better informed, they wouldn’t find us so scary.”

“Miss Frost was scary.”

“No, Kitten, she was just cruel. And you’ve learned something very important from what happened when she held us prisoner. People can wear a beautiful, benign face but may have bad intentions underneath. It’s important not to be swayed by their influence until you know where they stand.” Kitty sighed, feeling like she was in the middle of an afterschool special.

“Okay.”

“Let’s run. I want to beat the rush out of the parking garage.”

They walked briskly toward the elevator once they were outside. Ororo was just muttering about forgetting where they parked when they heard raised voices behind them.

“Did you see the new kid in tenth period math? Bet he’s a mutie!”

“Call the cops! Maybe they’ll put his mutie ass in jail!”

“Shut up, Connor!”

“What’re you gonna do, use your mutie powers against me? I’m sooo scared!”

“My mom’s been thinking about joining that new church. That Stryker guy says muties are going to hell.”

Ororo’s cheeks flamed. “Let’s go, Kitten.” She no sooner turned to nudge Kitty along before she saw her young companion’s back walking away from her, toward three teens about her age. “Uh-oh…”

“Hey! HEY! What’d you just say about mutants?”

“No one told you to butt in!”

“I make it my business to butt in when a bunch of jerks talk a bunch of shit!”

“KITTY!”

“What makes you guys think you’re any better than mutants? They just have powers. It’s no big deal. It’s not any different than having freckles or red hair.”

“Or being a flat-chested, mouthy little bitch like you!”

Flat-chested?!

POW! Ororo’s heart skipped when Kitty’s fist connected to the tallest boy’s jaw.


*

“Chuck’s gettin’ murdered up there,” Logan muttered around his cigar.

“What else could we expect? Even from a man of the Professor’s intellectual background, with his vast education and experience and humanitarian acts, the public sees him as a fraud because of his stance on mutants.”

“Don’t even matter that they don’t know he’s a mutant. This is a bunch of bullshit. I don’t know why he even bothered goin’ on this crap.”

“He’s a voice for those of us who can’t speak for ourselves, without fear of persecution.”

“Ya can teleport and fight just fine, ‘Elf. Ya that scared of bein’ persecuted?”

“The Professor found me outrunning an angry mob.” Kurt cracked open a bottle of Heineken and took a long pull.

“Ah.”

“They’re hardly letting him speak.”

“So what else is new?” Logan brooded as he watched the discussion, chewing on his cigar.

“What’s happening?” Piotr brought in a bowl of popcorn and set it on the coffee table. “How is the Professor managing?”

“Badly,” Kurt mused.

After several minutes of watching the heated debate, Piotr shook his head. “I’m glad Katya isn’t watching this right now. I think she’d find it very upsetting.”


Meanwhile:

“Kitten! Break it up! I said stop it, NOW!” Ororo fought to hold herself in check. She felt a current of electricity sparking in her veins as she suppressed her lightning. Overhead, the clouds moved more quickly, darkening to pewter gray. “This is a public place! I won’t let you engage in a brawl! What would your parents think?”

“But he said-“

“I know. That’s enough.” Ororo’s look chastened her.

“Yeah, go home, mutie bitch!”

“I said, that’s enough.” Ororo’s voice was hard and chilly. She wrapped an arm protectively around Kitty. “Would you like me to go and tell the security guard you started this? His booth’s right around the corner.” All three teens were mussed and petulant from their scrap. The tallest boy sported a cut above his lip. He sneered at Ororo and shrugged.

“Whatever. Tell ‘em whatever the fuck you want.” His friends followed him as they sauntered away.

“Assholes!” Kitty hissed under her breath. Ororo turned her by the shoulders and probed her eye.

“I can’t take you into the studio like this. I’m sending you home. We’ll call a cab.”

“But -!”

“No. I know you’re upset, but look at your face. It’s already swelling, and I’d rather not have to explain to Charles how it happened when he’s already got a lot on his mind. Let’s let him come home and settle down with a cup of tea first and unwind before he sees what you did to yourself.”

“It wasn’t my fault. They were talking out of their asses.”

“Language, Kitten.”

“Sorry…sheesh.”

“I know.”

“You can’t take me back?”

“You’ll be fine. I want to be on time to meet Scott and make it to the studio before the taping’s over.”

“Fine,” she grumbled back. Ororo let her into the passenger side of the comfortable sedan and backed out of their space. Ororo gave her enough for cab fare and an ice cream cone on the way back.

*

“…I’d like to read a few passages I’ve highlights from a report by Senator Robert Kelly,” Stryker intoned smoothly. “Twenty new mutant identification signatures were found last year. Three of them were determined to be hostile.”

“By intent or by nature of their abilities?” Charles argued.

“Does it matter? Mutants are dangerous. Their powers make them a weapon as well as a threat. Mutants don’t just discover they have these incredible abilities and then not use them!”

I think you’d be surprised. Charles raised one dark brow.

“I won’t completely disagree. Imagine if Beethoven discovered he could play the piano but refrained from ever writing a symphony because he was afraid of what the people around him thought.”

“Would that these mutants were only playing the piano and making pretty music.” Neal suppressed a chuckle and carefully turned his mic off. Behind the camera, Manoli Wetherell smirked and rolled her eyes. She wondered how her news partner and regular co-anchor would wrap up this episode. She wished that Stryker’s crappy views would end up on the editing floor.

Backstage, Scott watched the dialogue warily, feeling relieved as Ororo came up beside him.

“You smell like popcorn.”

“What did I miss?”

“Nothing you’d want to hear. Charles is getting slaughtered out there.” Ororo frowned. “And if Stryker had his way, we’d be next.”

“This concludes our discussion on mutants in our society, their contributions to the gene pool and the risks involved to those who fear them. I’m Neal Conan! Good night!” he called cheerfully. The audience roared, whistling and stomping their feet. Scott wasted no time in hurrying over to Charles’ side.

“Ororo’s got the car out front. Let’s go.”

“That’s the first sane suggestion I’ve had all day. I’m exhausted, Scott.”

“I don’t blame you. That was awful.”

“He’s not subtle. But he’s very powerful and very popular.”

“People at large fear us,” Ororo murmured. “But they should really fear him.”

They settled Charles comfortably in the car, specially equipped to allow him to buckle his chair safely into place without having to be transferred into the passenger seat. Ororo took the wheel with a sigh.

“How is Kitty doing? How does she like her new room?”

“She loves it. We had a bit of a difficult afternoon, though.”

“Oh?”

“We can talk when we get home.” Ororo expertly steered the car toward the on-ramp for the freeway.

“I have to admit, sometimes reading minds can be such a crutch. I don’t have to guess someone’s intentions when I deal with them face to face.”

“Meaning?”

“I couldn’t read Stryker’s mind, Scott.”

“Whoa.”

“I sensed a barrier of some kind blocking me.”

“You can’t read everyone’s minds. Like some other telepaths.”

“I don’t feel this was an organic block. I suspect he was using a device of some kind to keep me out. Leading me to wonder, does he know about my ability?” Ororo and Scott felt a cold flush at his words. Ororo pressed the brake hastily as the car in front of her stopped short.

“Odd. The brakes are sluggish. We just had a tune-up.”

“Be careful, Ororo.”

“What’s the bigger threat, Ororo, your power over lightning or your driving?”

“You could always get out and walk. Your blasts wouldn’t help you much then. Maybe you’d wish you could fly.”

“Don’t make me give you two a time out,” Charles joked fondly. His smile faded a moment later. “Oh, no.”

“What, Professor?”

“Stop the car! Pull over. Now.”

“Why?”

“We’re being watched. Cut off the engine before ““

THOOM! Ororo heard the faint, shrill beeps under the backseat of the car before tail of the sedan exploded, knocking them off the road.

Several cars behind them, a woman watched from the driver’s seat through a pair of binoculars. She clicked open a small cell phone and speed-dialed her contact.

“We’ve taken care of it, Reverend.”

“Good work. Bring them to me.” Then, “You’re a shining example of one of God’s servants, Anne.”

“I try.”





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