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Matt was on tenterhooks, waiting by the digital time clock to sign in. He impatiently punched his pale blue card, the time stamp next to the perforation reading 7:45. Just on time for morning shift. He checked his wing assignment: Men’s Wing, odd beds. He grinned and hurried off, whistling jauntily through his teeth.

Someone had beaten him to the punch, judging by the female laughter of the morning shift LVN, Natalie Summers. His shoulders slumped in disappointment at first, knowing he’d have to move on to the next room, but when he paused at the door, she leaned her head toward the corridor and smiled, waving him in.

“Come on in, Matt, join the party!” she chuckled. “Mr. Howlett’s all ready for you. We just needed to remove his IV. He had a bit of a rough night,” she explained, “but he’s ready and rearing to go.” Matt peered at him with concern; Logan’s cheeks were slightly florid, standing out sharply against the rest of his wan face. Those intense eyes swung his way and softened for a moment before he offered his rusty greeting.

“Thought ya’d never show up, bub. Took ya long enough.” He scratched idly at the itchy gauze pad covering the crease of his elbow. “Gonna look like Swiss cheese by the time yer friggin’ finished pokin’ me full of holes.”

“I’ll get out of the way. You need me, Mr. Howlett, you can just turn on your light, all right?”

“Shake a leg, missy,” he grumbled goodnaturedly, watching her stroll outside.

“You didn’t sleep well?” Matt murmured, sidling up to the bed and preparing Logan’s chair for him.

“Eh. No need ta coddle me, Junior. I lost more damned sleep with them takin’ care of me than I did if they’d have just let me be. Nurse Laura got all in a dither and said I was too dehydrated. Apparently there’s a rule against giving ‘em too little piss…” Matt’s shoulders were shaking as he turned away to fish Logan’s bathrobe out of the armoire.

“You didn’t have that great a start to your day, I take it?”

“Bingo,” Logan deadpanned. “Let’s hustle, youngster. I need my smoke.”

“I’ll tell Natalie to have Dietary hold your tray til you get back.” Matt wheeled him into the hallway and slid the “Not Occupied” wall plate open beside his door. Breakfast was nothing to write home about, but at least now it wouldn’t be cold.

The shower was the usual. Mr. Howlett was still a stickler about taking care of his own shave, but Matt noticed his hair was longer in the back and wasn’t easily tamed with his tiny plastic comb.

“Bout time for a trim, sir,” Matt mused.

“Book me fer a haircut downstairs in that excuse fer a barber shop downstairs.” The facility retained students from the beauty school in the lower wing for the residents to enjoy comforts like pedicures and haircuts for a reduced price. “Do me good ta get out of that room fer a while.” Matt didn’t argue.

“So you were telling me about when you went to the island?” He hated to pry, but Matt was practically dancing on tenterhooks wanting him to continue his story. It had become habit-forming. His mother had grown used to him mentioning Mr. Howlett most nights at dinner, and she’d already offered to make him something nice, like a little tissue box cozy or a lap quilt. Matt didn’t object.

“Eh. Guess I was. Hmmmm…” He peered thoughtfully at his face before giving the edge of his jaw one final scrap with the razor, whacking it sharply against the porcelain as he rinsed it. “These ain’t like the razors ‘Ro used ta keep for me at home. Stores’ll sell ya any kind of crap these days.” He idly chucked it into his shaving kit and wheeled himself backward before Matt could grasp the handles. Matt didn’t want to nag him, but he was restless for more of the intriguing tale. He sighed and accompanied him back to his room for breakfast.

The tray was waiting on the rolling bedside table right on schedule, and the drone of ESPN greeted them as Logan was wheeled back to his favorite spot by the window.

“I shoulda had more important things on my mind back when we were tryin’ ta get off that island,” Logan muttered as he lifted the lid off his hot cereal and drizzled the packet of honey over it. “But all I could think about when we were in that temple was how nice it would’ve been ta be back at the school, enjoyin’ one of Moira’s sandwiches. I wanted my Cubans and a walk out in the back. Charley had shitloads of money and a huge piece of land. Five acres of those woods were his, and there was a tiny lake a mile back from the carriage house. But we had ta focus on getting back. We had five people that were dependin’ on us ta bring ‘em back from that hellhole, or they might not make it…”


~0~


Once Bobby broke the relative silence, all of the captives began to show signs of life, albeit faint. Ororo’s chest seized in horror. All of them looked positively drained, perspiration pooling on their cheeks and unearthly pale.

“Shit,” Logan muttered. “How the fuck did they end up like this?”

“Better question, genius. How’re we supposed ta get ‘em out?” John approached the wall and touched it, beginning to dig his fingers into the stone before leaping back. It turned viscous, like quicksand, and he felt the substance suck and pull at his hand. He’d been ready to slam it with his fists, and he paled with relief that he hadn’t.

“I can blast it,” Scott offered.

“No,” Jean rasped. “Don’t provoke it.”

“Listen to her,” a ragged baritone warned them. The source was a young man roughly Ororo’s age. His dark blonde hair was filthy and barely visible, and he looked doubled up within his prison, not stretched as supine as his neighbors.

“Don’t provoke it. Jean, I don’t understand.” Scott sounded frustrated and helpless, and he kept flexing his fists. Every time he reached for her, he drew back, knowing from John’s example that it was sheer folly.

“There was…no mutant,” Jean explained in a choked cry. “It’s all alive. Everything. You... fought it.”

“We were attacked,” Sean admitted. “And we had a devil of a time getting here, lass.”

“Whole island,” she attempted again. “Felt you. Saw you,” she gasped. “Heard you…”

“How?” Kurt inquired politely.

“Powers. Read minds.”

“Her powers are like the Professor’s. When we got here, Jean, I felt you! I didn’t know how.”

“Only you, Scott. Always…you.” Her voice held a deep regard that went beyond that between old friends or schoolmates. This was the girlfriend, Logan thought. He was moved by the relieved, soft look in her green eyes despite their current predicament.

He watched Ororo approach the wall and reach out purposefully for Jean’s hand, her fingers barely breaking through the surface. They twitched the closer she came.

“Storm…” Logan began, wanting to pull her away, but she reached back to wave away his objections. She wouldn’t be swayed.

“Sister,” she choked, and tears tracked through the grime on her cheeks as she laced her gloved fingers through Jean’s wizened, slender ones. “I felt you, too!”

“Knew you’d come.”

“Help us.” This voice was also female and strained. Her body wasn’t as deeply submerged; her shoulders writhed desperately and she limply twisted her neck around to speak. “Can’t break free. Powers…drained. Not…rocks.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of,” Sean sighed. “Me scream might help.”

“Standing around won’t,” Shiro declared, and his body glowed, seeming to go up in flame as he activated his mutation, powering up to full strength. “Stand back.”

“And get ready fer a royal headache,” Sean added, drawing a deep breath and expelling waves of sonar that would have normally cut through a mountain like soft butter. He was joined by Shiro, channeling energy through his fists. Focused beams of flame seared the ooze, beginning to penetrate it and heating it until it glowed red-hot.

“AAAANNNGGH!” Bobby cried, his face reflecting agony.

“You’re hurting him!” The young woman with limpid blue eyes beseeched them to stop.

“They won’t,” Jean insisted, and she wore a look of concentration, her struggle showing in her reddening cheeks and veins popping out along her neck. “I have him!”

“You have your TK?” Scott was incredulous.

“Not…all of it. Cut them free,” she ordered weakly. The words had no sooner left her lips than the entire chamber began to tremble, the quake’s rumble nearly drowning out Sean’s scream.

Maintaining their footing was impossible, and they found themselves flung wildly around the chamber, making bruising contact with the shuddering walls. They seemed to pulse and moisten, becoming slick as they tried to get a grip. Logan finally decided to use his claws to his advantage and plunged them inside.

What could only be described as an outraged roar echoed through the room, making their bones rattle and ears ring. John whipped around to glare at him accusingly.

“What the fuck did you do!”

“Think I made it mad,” he snapped. Sean and Shiro remained steady and determined, channeling everything into their efforts to free the captives. Scott’s heart leapt when he saw the muck holding them immobile begin to recede back into the wall. He tugged firmly on Jean’s hand, drawing her arm free. The coagulated ooze sleeted off and dripped to the floor. She wasn’t budging any further despite his efforts and her telekinesis giving him a helping hand.

“Not letting you go!” he grated out through clenched teeth. Her face pleaded with him.

“Scott…”

“Won’t let you go, Jean!” He barked out orders to whomever was closest. “LOGAN! Grab on and pull!” He didn’t specify who. He lunged forward and captured the hand of the blond man seemingly trapped in the most unwieldy position. His body burned as Sean’s scream seemed to tear into him in rippling currents, and the chamber became unbearably hot beneath Shiro’s onslaught.

“Trying…to crush…me,” Logan’s charge insisted hoarsely.

“Hold yer horses, bub!” SNIKT! He sliced into the portion of the wall over his head to give himself a better center of gravity and pulled mightily, feeling a modicum of satisfaction when he slid part of the way from the muck. Another piercing roar assailed them, and he knew he was stirring the pot.

John’s blows against the wall met with little resistance, thanks to Sean’s sonar, which seemed to disrupt it. Bobby’s shoulders were finally exposed enough for John to grasp him beneath his armpits and haul him free. The wall made a sucking sound as it released him, covered in murky pink goo. John tumbled backward with the momentum, and Bobby landed on top of him with a thud.

“Ow,” Bobby groaned. It was like smacking into a boulder.

“Ecccchhh,” John sneered, shaking gobs of plasm off of his large hands before helping Bobby to his feet.

“Alex,” Ororo cried. “Help me get you out!”

“Hurts,” he groaned. “Weak. Sucked…life outta me. Worse’n the others.”

“Try,” she pleaded helplessly. “Jean!’

“I hear you,” she answered as she reactivated her TK and took hold of Alex. Ororo concentrated, and Alex watched as her eyes burned a searing white. She channeled lightning in a focused charge, coaxing the currents away from Alex’s body in order to paralyze the room’s “tissue” and stun it long enough for Jean to pull him out. His face twisted as he began to slowly move.

“AAAAAHHHHH!” His voice was guttural as he leaned forward, inching his way free. Ororo increased her charge, and Jean fought to maintain her telekinetic grip, shielding him from the electricity.

“Come on, Alex, COME OUT!”

“Take it easy, sweetheart,” John growled. “I ain’t finished.” He reached into the plasm and groped for Alex’s hand, grasping it and pulling as hard as he could. Piotr followed his example, and successfully located his other arm. He feared dislocating his shoulder but it beat suffocating and being drained into a lifeless husk. Ororo moaned with the effort; it was harder to generate lightning when she wasn’t outside, with the earth and air sustaining her and feeding her power. Alex gave one more hollow cry and stumbled forward on boneless legs, falling limp in John’s grip.

“L-Lorna,” he stammered, reaching for her. She was nearly free, but her strength was flagging. Kurt pried at her, nearly losing purchase on her where he had his arms wrapped around her ribcage, doing his part.

“Hold on as tight as you can, Fraulein!” BAMF! In a puff of noxious smoke, they both miraculously disappeared.

“Holy shit!” John struggled in his attempt to shoulder Alex and maintain his balance in the quaking room. Three seconds later, they reappeared. Lorna was all in one piece.

“That was harder than it looked,” Kurt groaned.

“It’s your turn, Jean! You can do it! They’re out! Come with me!”

“So tired…” Her eyes rolled shut, and her breathing was shallow. Sean’s voice began to falter in his attempt to buy them more time to release her.

“JEAN!” He desperately reached out and slapped her cheeks to revive her, and they snapped open again. “Help me get you out! Damn you, COME OUT!”

“Scott…” It was excruciating, taxing all of her reserves and creating a telekinetic barrier around her body, exerting pressure to repel herself out from the murky prison. Each ragged cry from her throat wounded Scott, despising having to cause the woman he loved more than his life pain.

“It’s time to go home,” he cried, nearly sobbing. “I’m taking you home, Jean!” Her arms stretched themselves free and clung to him, and they worked in tandem to extract her, the goop thick and elastic, stretching like taffy as she emerged, triumphant and spent. Sean’s sonar died down to its final wail, and he fell limply to his knees. Shiro extinguished his flames and caught him, dragging him to his feet. Chaos surrounded them as the walls began to cave, compressing ominously around them.

“Too close,” Ororo cried. “Out. Need to get out, NOW!”

“I hear ya, darlin’!”

“Ain’t gonna argue that!” John hoisted Bobby and Alex like sacks of potatoes over his shoulders and barreled toward the entryway. Sean led the blond man after him while Kurt escorted Lorna, ‘porting her at risk of weakening her further.

“Don’t let me go,” Jean moaned, and Scott felt the familiar, comforting buffer around him as she surrounded them in her TK field as he dragged her outside. She felt too light in his arms, and she was physically depleted.

They fled, not looking back as they dodged falling debris and the gradual shuddering and narrowing of the corridors. The walls glowed red and oozed slime and muck, losing their dark, stony appearance. Ororo shivered at the keening cry around her, the sound of a grievously wounded animal. Blessed light beckoned to her as they emerged from the tunnel.

“GODDESS!” She filled her lungs with the sharp, cold air and she scanned their surroundings. The precipice yawned beneath them, and she knew they had to abandon the temple and make their way down. Everyone was far too weak, she mourned…

“Can’t stay here,” Lorna panted. “Need…t’fly us down!”

“How?” Bobby looked up from his perch, leaning against Piotr for support. “Not enough of us can fly!”

“Just grab someone!” Scott bellowed, and he grabbed Bobby’s wrist with his free hand. “Take us down, Jean!”

“I’m on it.” She enveloped them again in her TK bubble, this time including Bobby, and she floated them off the ground. She strained, petrified that she’d falter.

“Let me help you, sister,” Ororo declared, and she stirred up a gusting wind to buoy Jean as she reached for Piotr’s hand and turned to search for Logan. “Coming?”

“Ain’t flyin’ with Irish this time around, woman!”

“I can port you down,” Kurt offered to the man slumped and trying to get his bearings. He was shocked when he stood fully erect with some effort and shook himself, large protrusions on his back unfurling themselves and rattling off the sticky goo. Vast white wings were soiled from his vigil inside, but they made him an imposing figure nevertheless.

“I can manage.” He, too, looked revived once he was exposed to the open air, free from the walls that fed off of him like a leech.

“Then off we go,” Kurt announced crisply, teleporting to the ground in two jaunts. He was followed by sweeping wings, hearing them rustle and flap behind him before we winked out. Shiro, Sean, Alex and Lorna followed, and John grunted at the shift in gravity as he was tugged into open air. He didn’t favor flying again by the seat of his pants, if he could avoid it…

They hit the ground running.

“We need to find the jet,” Scott huffed raggedly.

“We lost it, or did ya forget?” John reminded him. “Any time ya wanna whistle it back up’s fine by me!”

“You lost the jet?” Bobby shouted. “How do you lose a jet? What happened to the GPS?”

“Too much interference. It cut out on us as soon as we got here.”

A haunting voice rich with the rustling of leaves and the cries of ocean birds stopped them in their tracks. It seemed to come from all around them.

“YOOOUUUUUU WIIILLLL NOTTTT ESSSSSSSSSSSSCAPE, MUTANTS!” The ground once again began to tremble.

“I knew we weren’t alone in this hell hole!” A mixture of anger and fear colored John’s words.

“I WILL TAKE FROMMM YOOOOUUUU WHAT I CALLLLLED YOUUUU HEEERE FORRRRRR,” the voice intoned. The trees swayed from the force of the tremors, and the sky overhead darkened with clouds that Ororo did not summon. Her eyes glowed with the effort to keep the gale winds at bay and to rein in the building storm.

“What the hell’s goin’ on!” Logan croaked. “Called us here? Cyke, what the hell did ya get us into!”

“What do you want with us?” Scott called out, unsure of who was listening.

“TOOOOO FEEEEEDDD!”

“Holy crap,” Bobby muttered as several flocks of birds seemed to take flight from the trees and chime in their screams above the clamor. Shiro stepped aside, shocked as he watched his suddenly encase himself in sheer, durable layers of glittering ice.

“How the hell do we get out of this bedlam?” Sean saw the ground shift, and the backlash threatened to knock them off of their feet. He saw movement throughout the brush, and it seemed to look back at him with piercing, slitted yellow eyes.

“THERE ISSSSSSS NOOOOO ESSSSSSCAPE! YIEEEEEEEELLDD!” The voice was close, surrounding them. Piotr was bracing himself against the base of a towering palm, and his heart nearly stopped at the sudden, tangling grip of something wrapped around his wrist.

“BOSZHE MOI!” It shackled his other wrist above his head, and he struggled while the voice taunted him, relishing his pain.

The bark of the palm twisted and transmuted, shapes protruding out and becoming more distinctive. Jagged teeth warped and materialized, and amber eyes carved themselves out of the tree’s substance, staring at them wickedly from around Piotr’s writhing bulk.

“YOOUUU HAVE NOOOOWHERRREE TOOO GOOOO!”

“Who are you?” Scott demanded, his hand flying to his visor.

“I AMMMMM KRAKOA!” The being grinned evilly, and its eyes murkily swam and glowed blood-red as Piotr seemed to stagger and lose strength, agony written on his face.

“Swallowing…me!”

“NO!” Storm was about to attack it with her lightning, her hand crackling until Shiro stopped her.

“Foolish woman! You’ll fry him! He’s made out of metal!” he snapped, effectively wounding her and shoving her out of the way. “He won’t melt!” He sounded confident and stern as flames poured from his hands, licking up the tree’s hull.

“HAAAAAAHHHAAAAHAAAAAAAA!” Demonic laughter greeted his attempts!” Piotr’s steel body reflected blinding fire and turned red-hot, but he succeeded in pulling himself free, pulverizing the bark in the process.

“YESSSSSSSSSSS…FEEEEEEEEED MEEE MOOOOOOOOOOORRRE!” The visage was gone, leaving behind only charred bark.

“HELP!” Lorna screamed, and Alex stumbled to pull her out of the crater that seemed to swallow her. The ground was scarred in the same eerie face, eyes mocking him.

“I WILLLL FEEEDDD,” it spoke.

“No you won’t!” Bobby bent down and plunged his hands into the soil, freezing it into a crusty, brittle layer. John took the opportunity it afforded and stamped his booted foot, the vibrations shattering the ice. Alex pulled her to safety.

“Can’t catch a break,” he rasped, and he held her, cheek pressed against her hair, her pale green locks still plastered down by the murky pink slime.

“RUN!” Scott ordered, and no one argued with him, merely following in the direction that he pointed. “Go to the beach! Hurry!” If they could make it to the shore, they could figure out a way to get off the island…

Piercing laughter dogged their footsteps. Flyers assumed the burdens of those too tired to run. Ororo flew low and ahead of her peers, wanting to offer surveillance of oncoming obstacles -

The wind was knocked from her lungs as an enormous, exotic flower with gaping crimson petals opened up beneath her and shot out a long, snakelike stamen and snared her around the ankle. Her shriek was cut off as it sucked her inside, trapping her in a cramped, tight ball.

“STORM!” Logan saw her eyes, watched her hands trying to claw her way free. Smelled her fear. She was petrified, desperate, and mired in whatever nightmare that slowed her steps in the temple. That was enough.

He got cracking, raising gleaming claws and slashing into the base of the flower, cleaving through its bulky, milky stem, It lurched and swayed, and black sap oozed from it like gore. “Let her go if ya know what’s good for ya!”

“She can’t breathe!” Jean shrieked. “It’s killing her!”

“Not if I have any thing ta say about it!” He cut and stabbed it while the whole island seemed to laugh at him. He could feel her slender form struggling, see its petals bulge as she tried to push out against its hold. “That’ll shut yer lyin’ mouth!” he swore, kicking the flower off its base. Its stem began to wither.

“Move back if ya can hear me, darlin’!” His claws punched through the petal, and it squirted sap like ichor into his face, blinding him, but he reached out and clutched the petals, peeling them back and listening to the pithy fibers tear apart.

“RO!” he growled, Her face was pale, and she crouched, choking on the plant’s sap and clawing her way out of the sticky fibers, and she clung to him. Her entire body shook, and her eyes were dilated, but he read gratitude in their depths. Her fingers brushed his face, and he drew tangible comfort from her touch.

“I’m all right,” she insisted. If nothing else tries to eat me today…

“No yer not,” he argued, but he never let her go as they stormed through the thicket.

“I can see the beach.” Jean’s face was furrowed. “It’s coming after us. It won’t stop until it consumes us! I can feel it, Scott.”

Scott…

“Professor!”

I’m doing what I can to block its ability to manipulate your surroundings. I can buy you time to find the jet…

“We can’t!” he insisted.

It’s sentient. It’s in sync with the earth’s core, Scott. You have to break its connection and force it to release its anchor that keeps it from breaking away and drifting out into the atmosphere.

“HOW!”

You’ll need to work as a team…give me a moment to scan its thoughts, I need more clues…LOOK OUT! His words preceded a rumbling of rolling rocks that was bearing down on them, and the dodged falling trees. John and Piotr caught and bolstered two enormous palms that threatened to crush them, then acted as one, tearing them up by the roots, battering at the landslide and swatting the boulders away. The beach was just ahead of them in the clearing, if only they could reach it.

“I’m with you, Professor,” Jean replied, seemingly to no one, but Scott caught the dumbstruck expression on her face that he’d grown familiar with back at the school, whenever she communicated telepathically with Charles.

Lorna’s the key… She absorbed this information and catalogued his instructions quickly, her lungs pounding from their run.

“LORNA! We need you! I’m bringing you in,” Jean announced, and Lorna felt her gentle mind touch and the feel of her mind being transported into the telepathic link. Jean and Charles flanked her, their faces grave.

What now, Professor?

Jean and I will be working in sync with you, expanding your awareness of the island’s core and its minerals. Every last stone and bit of ore, Lorna. Harness it. Weaken its grip. Jean will guide you and help you.

I understand. She planted her feet in the shifting sand and opened her link with the metals, feeling the surge of power filling her being. It was a rush. The island was enveloped in a maelstrom of magnetic energy, and she dwelled within its core.

“Lorna needs me,” Ororo grated out, gently removing herself from Logan’s supporting hold, and she missed the frustrated and worried look he shot her retreating back. She spread her arms and looked up toward the sky, feeling the wind whip through her sodden hair.

“Bright Lady, guide me!” She glided aloft smoothly, her cloak whipping in the gale. She soared, up, up high, and the patterns of energy danced before her eyes, beckoning to her and divulging their secrets. She hovered directly above Lorna, feeling the pulse of her magnetic field, nearly buffeted by it, but she held steady. Lorna’s face was determined, beseeching her to do what she must.

The waves…Currents. Ororo’s gift gave her precision control of currents not only in the air, but of the tides. The ocean’s song resonated through her, bending to her commands as she exerted pressure against the island’s very crust, thrusting at it. The seismic affects threatened a tidal wave, but the shoreline never changed.

Below her, all hell broke loose on the beach. The sand whirled in towering cyclones, lashing out at her friends’ flesh like shrapnel. They flung up their arms to shield their eyes and keep it from smothering them.

“DOOOO NOT RESSSSSSSIISSSSST!” The voice seemed to wrap around them like the buzzing of a hive. Phantom, leering faces appeared in the sand, and stony fists took substance and pummeled them relentlessly. “I AM KRAKOA! YOU BELONG TO MEEEEEEEE!” Warren attempted to stay aloft, but he was tossed and flung through the sky and fell victim to the sand devils, crying out as they tried to erode his flesh from his bones. Piotr flung himself Warren’s prone body, making himself a bulwark to shield his fragile wings. Jean fought to maintain her telekinesis, all the while syncing with the Professor via her telepathy.

“STRONGERRRRRR!” The voices were defiant, rising in pitch and volume, and before their disbelieving eyes the sand gathered itself, growing and warping in a jagged basilisk. Lorna strained to focus her power on it as Ororo flew up above, manipulating the tides in an attempt to push the isle from its axis. Behind them, the wooded thicket seemed to ripple and shudder.

“It’s comin’ for us!” Sean cried.

“The whole damn island!” John roared.

Long, winding furrows of soil and vegetation tunneled beneath the sand and over land toward the shore, combining itself with the sand and taking form. Craggy brows and glowering eyes pinned them, and it opened its mouth, leaking moss and leaves. Savage birds swarmed around it in a deafening chorus.

“GIVE MEEEEEEE MOOOOOOOOORRRRE POWER, MUTANTSSS!”

“It’s not working,” Scott groaned. “It’s GROWING!”

“How’re we gonna cut it down ta size, Cyke?” Logan stood tall within the gale, his adamantium-plated frame giving him more leverage. His claws were extended, but he was at a loss.

“Banshee!” Jean shouted. “We need your voice!” Without any further urging, he flung himself aloft, until he was mere meters away from Ororo. His voice carried down to them in an even hum. “Close the circuit!” she cried to him, and he waved in understanding. He forced more air from his lungs and pushed his voice to the limit, aiming it toward Lorna. Her magnetic field absorbed the sound, but it resonated throughout the island, pulsing through everything within its circumference. His voice had disrupted its hold on them in the temple, Sean knew. It had to work. His companions were counting on it.

The behemoth seemed to stumble slightly, its voice wavering and less confident. “YOU WON’T STOP KRAKOA! WE ARE MANY! YOU HAVE SEALED YOUR DOOM, MUTANTS! KRAKOA WILL PREVAIL!”

Tell Alex he’s needed.

“HAVOK!” Lorna’s voice shook. “Give me everything you’ve got!” It dawned on him what she was asking him and he balked.

“No! I won’t! What if I hurt you?” His voice was ripped from his lips by the gale. Using his powers, potentially harming the woman that he loved was a sacrifice he wouldn’t make. She was his everything.

“Alex, please!” He shook his head, adamant until his brother’s hand clapped his shoulder, squeezing it til he ached.

“We need you, and we need her! We can’t wait, and you can’t have second thoughts about this, Alex! We have to take this thing down! Think about them,” he emphasized, sweeping his arm toward the team, all of them battling against the deadly sands and shifting ground. “What you want can’t get in the way of what we need to get out of here!”

“What if it were Jean, huh? What if she were the one being ripped apart, you sonofabitch!” Scott swallowed but stood firm.

“She’s giving Lorna all she’s got, Alex!” His face was mutinous, but Alex turned toward the shore with a sense of purpose. He felt as though he were being stabbed in the heart as he harnessed energy from the atmosphere, charged like a solar battery and aimed it toward the woman he loved.

Krakoa reveled in the burst of power sustaining and nourishing it. It crowed its triumph to the darkening sky, knowing it would be over soon. It would feast on their bones once they were all used up. Perhaps he’d release one of them to send more help, bringing him more choice morsels to devour…

It screamed. It grew sickened and disoriented, losing cohesion as the power that fed it turned on him. It was overloaded, bloated with power…

It couldn’t process thought.

It couldn’t form speech.

It couldn’t maintain its form.

Sinking…it was sinking…

The towering beast began to discorporate and crumble apart like a punctured beanbag.

Suddenly the rolling surf sucked at their feet. The island was thrashing in the throes of death, sending up its final rattle, even as Lorna still glowed with power, like a grounded star.

“She’s done it!” Scott cried. “We’re stopping it!”

“LORNA!” Alex ceased firing and ran, crying out to the others, “Storm! Banshee! NO! ENOUGH!” Ororo’s lightning ceased, dying down to crackling sparks from her fingertips. Sean’s cry held him aloft, but he too dampened his powers and focused them away from the woman trembling below as Alex scooped her into his arms.

“Iceman, we need you!”

“I’m on it,” he replied, already creating a huge sheet of ice, increasing its density until it was as solid as stone and a foot thick. “Climb on!” They all scrabbled aboard the makeshift raft.

“There ain’t any life jackets on this thing!” He and Piotr were shielding the weakened members of their party, searching for anything to hold on in a panic.

“Don’t worry,” Jean advised. “Just hang on!” She nodded to Bobby, who wore a look of fierce concentration as he built up the side of the raft, encasing them in an airtight dome.

They had three minutes. Three heart-stopping minutes.

It was true, Logan mused, as his blood tripped through his veins and caused his heart to jackhammer. Your life really did pass before your eyes…

He heard their voices crying out as they were pitched out to sea, bobbing and crashing in the interior. Seaweed and foam smacked the glassy walls and disoriented him. Air became scarce, and he fought to hold his breath. Ororo’s terrified face filled his vision, and she cried out prayers as she slid and lost her balance…

She landed against his solid bulk, and she held onto him for dear life. He tucked her head against his neck, allowing her to feel the solid, racing thrum of his pulse, and cords of muscle wrapped around her, offering her shelter and what could end up being the last, solid comfort he could muster…

She smelled like sandalwood and almonds.

Everything went black.

They spiraled down into the murky depths, where everything was silent.

~0~


“You’re kidding.”

“Nope.”

“THEN WHAT HAPPENED?” Matt realized that his voice had risen, and the other residents in the hallway lounge craned their necks toward the commotion.

“The only thing that could happen, after we tried everything else.” Logan slapped down another hand of solitaire cards, drawing the ace of spades and moving it up.


~0~


The morning sun was blinding.

Logan stirred awake, wincing at the piercing light and the faint tang of blood he tasted on his dried, cracked lips. A soft moan escaped from the soft form pressed against him, radiating heat that seemed to blanket him, even though his uniform. His arm convulsed around it, reflexively embracing it, not wanting the presence to escape him. A low wind ruffled his hair, and he smelled saltwater.

“Nnnngggh…hurts,” murmured a voice beside him. “Light hurts.” The lightly accented English told him it was Piotr.

“Head’s throbbing,” John groaned. “Someone turn off the jackhammers, already.” Logan let the sounds around him sink in so he could process them, taking them in slowly. The presence stirred against him again, and this time, fine tangled coils of hair brushed his cheek. The surface below him was freezing, chilling him to the bone, except for the side of him lying flush against that source of warmth.

“Mmmmmmmmm…” Another low, soft moan. The scent of sandalwood. Long fingers uncurling from beneath a dainty chin to scrabble and paw at him as she stretched.

Ororo.

“We made it!” A hoarse voice roused them all awake. “WE MADE IT!” Bobby clung to the edge of the dome where it was blasted away, allowing in precious air and sunshine.

“Barely,” Jean muttered weakly. “Bobby, thank you. You came through.”

“So did you, Red. We felt it. All of us felt it. That was the only way I could have held it together.”

“How long were we under?” Piotr wanted to know.

“Not long.” Scott was helping Jean sit upright and stroking back her filthy long hair. “Any longer and we wouldn’t be here.”

“How in heaven’s name did we come back up? Ice floats, but not easily enough that we’d all survive!” Sean was dumbstruck.

“It was Ororo,” Jean explained. She peered over toward Logan with worry. “Is she okay?” He scowled and followed her eyes.

She was resting against him, every inch of her body flush with his, and as if on cue, drowsy blue eyes fluttered open and pinned him in her gaze.

“Hullo,” she murmured.

“She’s fine,” he replied, not looking at Jean. “Ain’t ya, darlin’?” The endearment sounded foreign to her ears and spurred her to struggle up from him, feeling awkward with such proximity and familiarity.

“I am all right,” she announced crisply, scraping her hair back from her cheek. The impression of how it felt brushing his cheek lingered with him.

“Ororo can control air currents, including waves,” Jean said. “She held us afloat after we got sucked under.”

“Where’s the island?” Kurt inquired.

“See for yourself,” Alex told him. They followed the path of his pointing hand. All they could see was the blue horizon and unspoiled surface of the sea.

“Question,” Bobby piped up. “How the heck are we gonna get home?”

The waves stirred ominously, and Ororo sensed the pull of undertow threatening to drag them down again. “Jean!”

“Bobby, get ready -“ Her voice was interrupted as something dark erupted through the water’s surface.

The hull of the Blackbird rose from the sea like a bar of Ivory soap.

“Valet parking,” John quipped over the mingled shouts of joy and relief.


~0~

Moira’s sharp shriek and frantic brogue was the first sound that assailed their ears as soon as they tumbled down from the ramp into the hangar.

“OCH! Holy Mary, Mother of God! Look at the lot of ye, staggering in and looking like death warmed over! Yuir a sweet, bloomin’ mess! What the bluidy hell happened!” She flung herself at Scott in a barreling embrace, and he managed a weak grin, grunting beneath the impact. One by one, Charles’ former students drifted up to offer themselves for her inspection, fierce hugs and affectionate verbal abuse.

“I was worried sick,” she accused, biting back tears as she enveloped Alex and Lorna next. They took it gratefully, thankful for her strength and familiar voice, still too stunned to believe they were home. Her fingers scrabbled through Alex’s damp, mussed blond waves. She hugged them until her arms were about to fall off.

“Missed you,” Lorna blurted. “Didn’t think we’d see you again.”

“Thank God I knew better, lass,” she murmured, her voice muffled in the shoulder of her uniform. She drew back and laid her palm against Lorna’s cheek. “Yuir filthy,” she pointed out. “And haggard, dragging in here as weak as kittens! Go,” she ordered. ‘Get to the infirmary, and that’s that!” She spun on Logan, who had broken free from the huddle and was making his way toward the exit. “Dinna think yuir off the hook, lad!”

“M’fine,” he protested.

“I’ll be the one t’tell ye if yuir fine or not, laddie, now GIT!” She swept down on him and swatted him sharply on his rump. Ororo’s smile was wan, but her eyes twinkled with mirth, wholly at his expense.

All he wanted was a shower and a smoke, and maybe a spot to clear his thoughts. Every time he closed his eyes, all he heard was the thundering roar of water closing in on him and screams.

The vision of Ororo’s eyes pleading with him not to let her go remained. That was the most disconcerting of all.





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