Chapter Nine: Mother
Bishop’s condition slowly improved throughout the day following the Brotherhood’s brutality. Logan entered the med-lab after his altercation with Storm, spitting mad and ready to scream. The woman was absolutely cold, nothing beneath her beautifully placid surface but ice. He hated that he still wanted her, that he could vividly recall every moment of their night spent together. If he could forget about it, maybe that would make her easier to move on from.
Keep dreamin’, bub, Logan thought as he sipped his coffee.
He took the stool beside his future son’s bed and glanced at the monitors. His heart rate was stronger, his breathing back to normal. Apparently Bishop was as much a fighter as his parents; there was some measure of comfort in that.
Logan couldn’t understand his own actions. From the instant Bishop’s parentage was revealed, he felt a deep, unbreakable bond with the younger mutant. Logan could feel something for him, an echo of the future this man represented. He didn’t know exactly how to handle it, so he figured waiting patiently for Bishop to recover was a step in the right direction.
Bishop saw his father when he looked at Wolverine. Something in that trust, that intimate knowledge humbled him. He had a million questions for Bishop, most of them revolving around one simple issue. Why had he let his son do this?
The dark man’s breathing shortened, drawing Logan from his thoughts. Ebony eyes blinked before he winced in pain. The feral watching over him stood, taking the needle Hank had left him and removing the protective covering.
“Hey, kid,” Logan said quietly. “Hurt?”
“Y-Yes.”
“Hang on.” Placing the needle at the top of the IV, Logan quickly injected the morphine, watching as the pain medication snaked through tubing before reaching Bishop’s body.
The other man sighed, coughing slightly. Logan pressed the foot pedal beside the bed, helping him sit up. He’d woken enough times in this damn med-lab to know how things worked, even without Hank’s crash course in medical training.
“Better?”
“Yes, thank you,” Bishop coughed. Logan took the nasal oxygen apparatus and pulled it over his son’s head.
Bishop was staring at him as he tightened the nasal tubes, adjusting them so they would remain in place. Unable to think of anything to say, Logan cleared his throat, meeting the dark eyes that he so suddenly realized were his.
“You know.”
Two words said it all. He nodded curtly, urging his son to lie back down. Busying himself with changing bandages, Logan took several deep breaths, trying in vain to think of something -- anything -- to say.
“Your mother always gonna be such a bitch?”
That wasn’t exactly what he’d had in mind, but it slipped from his lips before he could stop it. Logan winced, surprised when Bishop chuckled slightly.
“No, actually,” he said gruffly. “She loves you to distraction in my timeline. I can’t figure it out why, you’re an asshole in this time.”
Logan grunted, peeling back a soaking gauze bandage and nodding at how quickly Bishop was healing. “You’ve got a point.”
They lapsed into silence while Bishop was re-bandaged. His son muttered a thank you under his breath while Logan cleaned up the mess they had made. Dark eyes followed his every movement and when he looked back up, Logan caught the unguarded pain in those familiar eyes.
“I’m sorry,” Bishop whispered. “I just…”
“Its ok,” Logan grasped his shoulder, not knowing how to kill the impulse. “You couldn’t tell us.”
“I wanted to,” Bishop answered. “And we’ve already changed the timeline so much…but you hate each other. You’re not the people I know.”
Logan took a seat on the edge of the bed, shushing an obviously distraught young man. He wondered again why his future self had allowed his son to leave, to go back to a time when his parents were at one another’s throats. What was he thinking? No child deserved this shit.
“We don’t hate each other,” Logan sighed. “We’re just…well, we…Hell, I don’t know. She gets under my damn skin.”
Bishop grinned, shaking his head. “Uh-huh, you say that now…just wait twenty years.”
Both men chuckled quietly. Logan found himself cataloguing everything the future mutant was doing, saying. Oh, there were a million tells in his manner and voice. Hundreds of things told of the man’s parentage. He was a perfect blend of Storm and Wolverine, if you looked hard enough. The kid might as well have been wearing a neon sign.
“Are we close?” Logan asked suddenly, gesturing between them. “You and me?”
Bishop nodded. “Yes. Mother and I are very close as well.”
“I teach you how to fight?” He continued, his throat tight.
“You taught me how to play baseball first.”
That did it. Logan stood, turning away from his son as tears stung at his eyes as emotion rolled over him. Mental images of him tossing a ball to a child in the sunlight, laughing when he missed, cheering when he caught it…it was too much.
One tear was all he would give the image, the emotional gesture wiped away instantly. How could he be this man? How would he grow into that kind of father? It was unreal. It couldn’t be true, no matter what his heart was telling him.
The med-lab doors hissed open a moment later and as though in slow motion, Logan saw Ororo enter. She tossed one lock of shocking white from her eyes, her pressed blue suit seeming a little out of place on someone so wild, so untamed.
Logan halted those thoughts the moment their eyes met. She had let some of her guard down before coming down here. What was she looking for?
“Is he awake?”
Logan nodded with a grunt, stepping to the side to allow her unfettered access to the man on the bed. Bishop shifted restlessly, looking somewhat like a child about to be taken to task by a ferocious mother.
“Bishop,” she said, striding toward him with a toss of her head. “How are you feeling?”
The dark man shot Logan a questioning look to which he nodded. Yes, she definitely knew. Poor kid.
Her heels made soft clicking noises on the polished tile. She stopped at his bedside, crossing her arms over her chest and glaring at the young man for all she was worth. Logan had to fight an amused smile, wondering how many times Bishop had seen that exact look on her face in his younger years.
He heard the darker man gulp. That was hilarious.
“You disobeyed a direct order,” Storm said bluntly. “You took on the Brotherhood single-handedly and nearly died in the effort.”
Bishop nodded. “They’re having the mansion watched. Didn’t happen in the other timeline.”
“Right.” She inhaled and exhaled slowly, obviously trying to control her temper. “Are you somehow slow? Eat paint chips as a child? Is there some reason for your utter stupidity?”
He paused, shrugging one shoulder. “My mother dropped me once.”
Storm gasped. Logan slapped a hand over his mouth, trying to control his laughter. She whirled on him, glaring. That only made the entire scene that much more hysterical. Logan erupted into laughter, clapping the counter as he howled with mirth.
“Bishop.” Storm said over Logan’s laughter. “That is not funny.”
“Course it wasn’t,” he said dryly. “My father caught me though, so no harm done.”
Logan grinned at him.
“You don’t understand,” Bishop continued. “Pyro is a direct threat. Piotr’s death started a massive downhill slope for the X-Men, which opened up room for the Brotherhood to step in. The X-Men lost so much ground, they nearly handed them the war, Mother.”
She had obviously caught Bishop’s slip up. Logan tasted saline on the air mixed with ozone. Storm was about two seconds from all out crying. Without thinking about it, he stepped up behind her, placing a hand on her lower back. The gesture at once familiar and foreign.
“This is insanity,” she whispered. “How can you possibly be our son?”
Bishop’s eyes reflected hurt, which made Logan’s heart ache. “I don’t know. All I know is that I was born, you were married, and you’ve never left one another’s sides in twenty years. That’s all I ever needed to know.”
Storm turned to Logan, her eyes pleading. “It’s not true. It’s genetic manipulation.”
Before Logan could speak, Bishop was singing. A slow, haunting melody filled the med-lab in a language Logan did not recognize. The young man had his head down; eyes closed as his rich baritone lovingly caressed each syllable.
Ororo had tears splashing down her cheeks. Unsure what was happening here, he touched her chin, one eyebrow cocked in question. She shook her head, mouthing the words their son was singing. Oh, he mused, he just proved something to her.
“The Goddess’ Lullaby.” He said when he was through. “N’Dare’s final words to you.”
Storm whirled about, sitting on the edge of the bed and reaching for Bishop. She cupped his cheeks with her palms, really looking at him as though for the first time. One of her long, dark fingers traced the marking over his eye and Bishop allowed a tear to slide down his cheek.
“No child of mine deserves to be so marked,” Ororo whispered. She leaned forward, pressing a tender kiss to his forehead. “We will fix it, my son, I promise you.”
Bishop wrapped his arms around her, burying his face in his mother’s shoulder.
“Lucas,” he said so softly even Logan nearly missed it. “My name is Lucas.”
~**~
Ok, so they were a bunch of geeks.
Ali looked around the expansive game room, her cue gripped between fingers whose tips were painted shocking blue. She tilted her head, allowing one long, blonde pigtail to drape over her shoulder. A few of the students were staring at her, many of them with obvious interest or open curiosity.
That was a new one.
It wasn’t as though she’d ever been around mutants. From her earliest memory, her mother and stepfather had drilled into her head that normal was good. Anything other than that was to be avoided, shunned, and destroyed. They had an image to uphold, of course. There were clients to entertain, office parties to smooze.
God, they made her fucking sick.
Dressed in her black knee hi socks, heavy combat boots, short plaid skirt and mid-riff baring white tee, she would have shocked her parents into stroke. Ali’s creamy flesh showed off by revealing clothing bore several tattoos, each of them her pride and joy. She liked to think of herself as unique, but part of her knew she was still trying to shed the box her parents had so easily shoved her into.
The moment she’d punched a hole in her boyfriend’s truck, she knew she was lost. Peeling the upper crust from her soul was more painless than she’d thought it would be. She just let the designer clothing and careful manicures fall away. She took her trust fund, found a second hand clothing store and reinvented herself. Mutant, musician…free.
“Eight ball, center pocket.”
Smiling brightly at Kitty’s ease around a pool table, she cast another swift glance around. When the bright brunette had first suggested Xavier’s, Ali was just looking for a pit stop, a place to spend the night. She assumed they would try to force her into another box, label it, and call it a day.
Imagine her surprise when she realized she wasn’t the biggest freak at the breakfast table. There was the big blue doctor. He was fun. Kids with weird physical mutations, those like her who could hide it but refused to. They laughed here, played, were kids. There was something about this place, something that felt terrifying like home.
Kitty did a little victory dance as she won their game. Ali rolled her eyes.
“Ok, hot shit, rack ‘em.”
The other girl was still dancing when adorable Bobby and that uber-hot Pete came waltzing into the room. Ali felt the weird swooping sensation “ like a punch to the gut “ when Pete smiled at her in greeting. They were both wincing as though sore and Bobby limped with every step.
“Mornin’!” She said brightly to cover the fact that she wanted to drool. “You guys look beat.”
Bobby threw himself into the sofa, turning on the X-Box and grabbing a controller. “Just got our butts handed to us by Beast. That guy is fast.”
“He’s such a cutie,” Ali countered as Kitty giggled. “If he were ten years younger, I’d snap him up like the last slice of pizza at a hockey game.”
Pete raised a brow, amusement playing about his perfectly shaped mouth. Damn, he was just delicious. “Is that so?”
“What’s the matter, Petey?” Ali teased, leaning over the table to break the racked balls. “”Would you be jealous?”
He laughed, the sound warm and rich. Ali nearly swooned. Damn, that might get annoying.
“I would pine away, miserable and alone while writing bad poetry.”
Feeling her feminine pride perk up, though she knew he was teasing, Ali smacked the cue into the balls and straightened. She deftly slid between the huge, hunky Russian and the table, rubbing her barely-covered backside against his crotch in open invitation.
“I doubt you could do anything badly, Petey.”
The boy blushed, really and truly blushed, as she moved away. He cleared his throat, excusing himself before he joined Bobby at the X-Box. Ali turned to Kitty with a triumphant grin.
“You’re so bad,” the other girl grinned, shaking her head. “So, so bad.”
“Oh, I know,” Ali said bright. She made another shot, coming around the table and crooking a finger at Kitty.
“What’s up?” Kitty asked, waggling her eyebrows. The girl was so cheerful, so open, Ali thought she might have found her soul mate.
“So, what’s the deal with Mother Russia?” Ali questioned quietly.
Kitty’s brows came together in a thoughtful furrow. “Huh?”
“Tall, dark, tightest ass on the planet…” Ali pointed. “Is he taken? If you tell me he’s gay, I’ll lose all faith in humanity.”
The other girl clapped a hand over her mouth to stifle a giggle. “Come on, let’s grab a snack.”
They put the cues back into the holder, Ali tossing Bobby and Peter a smile as the girls exited the game room. Kitty pulled Ali closer, tucking their arms together so they could whisper conspiratorially. Ali’s heart clenched. No one had ever wanted to whisper secrets with her or just talk about boys. It was so damn sweet the blonde nearly sniffled.
“Well, Pete’s a complicated guy,” Kitty was saying as they entered the bright, cheerful kitchen. “He’s not gay though, so breathe.”
“Oh, thank God,” Ali crossed herself with a cheeky grin. She slid onto the barstool, tossing the lone occupant of the kitchen a hello. He ignored her.
Kitty was inside the fridge, digging for something. “He’s got some emotional issues, though.”
“Like what?” Ali asked as Kitty handed her a bottle of water.
“He’s still weird about being a mutant, about people accepting him,” Kitty offered, leaning on the counter across from Ali. “He wasn’t treated well the first time he…”
The brunette made a gesture that Ali frowned at. “What?”
“His mutation makes him turn into metal. He’s like bullet proof and twice as hunky.”
“Is that humanly possible, Kit? I mean…holyhell the man’s a god.”
Kitty chuckled. “I’m just sayin’, for all his superstrength and unbreakable steel, inside he’s a turtle without a shell. Its one reason he’s not taken, hot as he is, he doesn’t trust easily.”
Ali cracked open her water bottle, biting on the inside of her cheek. “I can understand that, trust me.”
“If you two are done, I’d like to keep my lunch down, thanks.”
Kitty and Ali jumped, both turning to look at the man lounging at the kitchen table. He was handsome, Ali surmised. Piercing dark eyes, whiskered face, hard body. But there was something primal about him, something like a barely-caged beast.
“Oh, Wolverine,” Kitty said brightly. “This is Dazzler. Daz, Wolvie.”
The man known as Wolverine stood nodding to both young girls. He gave Ali a long look, one eyebrow creeping up to touch his hairline.
“Anyone ever tell you to put some clothes on?”
Ali smirked wickedly. “Like what you see, Old Man?”
He snorted. Ali beamed.
“Logan.”
“Ali.”
He put his plate into the sink, tugging on a lock of Kitty’s hair as he passed them, leaving the room. Kitty smiled at him, but Ali instantly recognized the gesture as friendly, almost parental. Ok, Ali mused, so he was one of the teachers.
“So,” she said absently. “Is this place just a breeding ground for hot guys? Cause where have they been all my life?”
Kitty laughed, hopping off the stool. “Come on, we’ve got training with the blue guy.”
“Oh yay!” Ali leapt from her stool. “My other favorite hunk.”
“So bad,” Kitty laughed as they headed for the mansion’s lower levels.
~**~
Piotr watched Ali and Kitty leave the Danger Room, triumphant smiles on their exuberant faces. The blonde was doing some kind of silly victory dance, which made Katya laugh hysterically.
She was pretty, he thought, tilting his head to study her unobserved. He peered into the monitor, zooming in on her face without thinking about it. Dark makeup covered her eyelids, making the deep green of her eyes sparkle. Vibrant, funny, cheerful.
He shook his head, knowing he shouldn’t be dwelling on her. It was hard, though. She always looked at him as though she would rather look at nothing else. In her thirty-six hours at the mansion, she’d made him blush a dozen times. She was always smiling, attached to Kitty’s hip. Her revealing clothing and tattooed flesh only made her seem rebellious and desirable.
“Stop it,” he ordered himself, sitting back. He moved to zoom the camera out again, but paused. “Leave it alone Piotr.”
She was singing to Beast, making the older mutant roll his eyes as Kitty laughed. Piotr smiled. Something about that girl got under his skin. He had the chilling sensation creeping down his spine, as though he knew she would impact his life in some way.
He couldn’t let that happen. Bishop had already told him his fate. The second attack from the Brotherhood would be his final battle. Piotr was comfortable with this, with the knowledge of his own demise. He had been trained to accept things, this was no different.
There were no great loves to leave behind. Only his sister, and Storm had assured him years ago that she would be taken care of. His friends would move on, his name someday forgotten. If he were taken, there would be no shaking of the earth, no un-mendable broken heart. He doubted his loss would be taken very hard by anyone, save perhaps Storm. She had known him the longest, after all.
The others all had someone, in some form. Kitty would have Alison. Bobby had Rogue and Artie. The adults had one another. Piotr had ever kept himself apart, afraid of hurting someone with his mutation. Only Kitten and Bobby had ever gotten close and that was simply because he could not get rid of them to save his life.
As he continued to stare at the image of Dazzler, his normally emotionless thoughts made his chest ache. She turned her impish face toward the camera, as though she sensed someone was watching her. A slight frown creased her brows and she moved away.
Piotr sighed, zooming the camera out and turning his attention to the rest of his watch. Storm would have his hide if she knew he was using the mansion’s equipment to stare at pretty girls.
It would be better for her if he kept the impish Alison away until after the battle. That way, his death wouldn’t hurt her.
He almost believed that. He almost wanted to.
~**~
Bishop pulled his jacket on, frowning at his mother as she spoke in a low tone with Hank. From the stiffness of her back and the frown on her beautiful face, there was some bad news.
“Hey,” his father greeted as he entered the med-lab. “What crawled up your mother’s ass?”
He smiled, shrugging one shoulder. “I’m not sure. Did she call for you?”
“Yep,” Logan lit a cigar, inhaling from it quickly. “Broke up my Danger Room session.”
“Delta Zulu?” Bishop asked curiously.
Logan’s brows shot up to take residence in his hairline. “Yeah.”
“Ha,” Bishop smirked. “I beat that one when I was fifteen.”
“Good for you,” Logan shot back almost affectionately. “Shut up.”
The darker mutant laughed. “Sorry.”
“You meet the new kid?” Logan paused, laughing at himself. “Never mind.”
Bishop frowned. New kid? No one had ever said that a new mutant joined the X-Men just before the second Brotherhood attack. In fact, he was relatively certain all the players were on the board, ready for action.
When he mentioned this, Logan scowled. “You’ve got no memory of anyone mentioning Dazzler?”
Completely confuse, Bishop frowned. “Dazzler? The singer? She was supposed to be killed two nights ago.”
“Fuck. Storm!”
Mother rushed from Hank’s office, a startled expression on her face. She listened intently as Bishop and Wolverine explained their findings to her. Both she and Hank sat on the edge of the medical bed, Storm’s eyes boring into her son’s.
Bishop’s heart clenched. She really was the woman that would become his mother, at least a version of her. He wondered if her pregnancy with him had calmed her or if giving her heart to Father had done it. Perhaps he would see the start of it, because Father was right, she could really be a bitch in this timeline.
Must be where Shard gets it from, he thought with a pang.
“What do you think?” Logan asked, snubbing his cigar out in a bedpan, much to Hank’s dismay.
“Lucas already changed the timeline,” Storm mused, making her son’s heart skip again. “By saving Jimmy’s life.”
“And for every action, there are infinite possibilities.”
“If Jimmy had died, no way Kitten and Popsicle woulda gone to the concert,” Logan grunted while crossing his arms over his chest. “Pyro woulda have Dazzler all to himself.”
“So what does this mean?” Storm continued, tapping her lips with her forefinger. “The balance seems to have tipped in our favor; we have an extra X-Man.”
“And my knowledge of the future is shaky,” Lucas added. “We can’t depend on my memory anymore.”
“I suggest we play it by ear,” Beast chimed in thoughtfully. “When is the second Brotherhood attack?”
Bishop glanced at his parents. “Tomorrow or the day after, I’m not sure.”
“We’ll keep the mansion on high alert,” Storm commanded quickly. “Someone needs to be with Piotr at all times. I will not lose him.”
“You heard the boss,” Wolverine snapped. “Lets get our shit straight.”
Storm rolled her eyes at him.
“Mother?” Bishop sighed inwardly, noting the way her eyes lit up at the name. “What were you and Beast talking about?”
She became suddenly, deathly serious. Glancing at Logan, she took Lucas’ hand and squeezed it. Swallowing hard, knowing the slight tremble in her familiar hand couldn’t be a good sign, he straightened his back, ready for anything.
“There’s a problem,” she said quietly.
“What?” Father interrupted, looking nervous.
Storm looked away from them both before meeting Lucas’ eyes.
“For all intents and purposes, Lucas…the tests I had Henry run on me…”
“For fuck’s sake, woman!” Logan exploded. “Spit it out!”
Her eyes, however, remained on her son. “Lucas, it should be physically impossible for me to have children.”
Bishop’s world came crashing down around his ears.
