"Where is she?" she asked. "I want to finish this."
For a momm=ent the occupants of the room looked baffled, then Storm understood.
"Wanda is in her room with Lance," she explained. "Keeping her ... calm and controlled has been ... dificult."
"Yeah, well, get her," ordered Betsy.
"Please," Kevin added.
Storm bristled a little under the English girl's tone, but did as she was asked, bringing down a surly-looking Wanda Maximoff.
"So," she said. "You're the one who's supposed to work some magic miracle on me. What do you have planned, exactly?"
Okay, Wanda was short-tempered, straight-talking and as bristly as a cactus. Betsy liked her already.
"I, or rather we, are going to use a mind-link to you. Our mental essences shall be linked together to form a triad. This will enable you and Kevin to use your powers with out fear of control, as I shall be providing that control for you."
"So basically," growled Wanda, "you're going to jump in my mind, force me to your will, and use me as some sort of puppet to kill this ... this Bash thing? Sorry luv, but I won't be anyone's tool, and I won't let anyone control me again."
"No!" cried Kevin. "It's not like that at all! Betsy ... she forms a link with you, a tie. It's like ... it's like it gives you more freedom than you've ever imagined, because you don't have to be afraid or anything! And ... and it gives you friendship, it's like ... like ... like you've spent your life only half there, and then there's another half and you feel whole again. A sort of spiritual bond, like having a sibling, or ... or a lover, even. You know what I mean?"
Wanda was silent for a few moments, and Betsy could not help but feel a flash of pain cross her psyche.
"Yeah," she said at last. "But all bonds can be broken, kid. And you're always alone in the end. Always."
"Wanda ..." murmured Betsy, speaking slowly and softly. "Please, let us try. Let me come into your mind and show you what I offer. If you don't want it, then I promise I won't do anything. But at least let me show you ..."
Wanda bit her lip. "OK," she said at last. "OK, but if I want you to get out, you get out. Got it?"
"Got it," responded Betsy and, taking hold of Kevin's hand, allowed herself to tumble into Wanda's consciousness.
When they had passed the chaotic flashes of random consciousness, the bright images of shattered memmories, and the surreal complexities of the subconscious, they found themselves on a desolate plane.
The ground was smooth and dark, around them darkness stretched. All was bare and barren. Only one figure graced the forbidding landscape.
A titanic woman, dressed from head to toe in black armor, streaked with chrimson. A huge helmet covered her face. In her hands she carried a mighty sword, its pommel was of rubies, and its blade was like red-hot metal, or molten fire.
From behind the slits in her helmet, eyes glowed a brilliant scarlet.
"Wanda?" asked Betsy.
"I am she," boomed the voice, hollow from inside its dark covering.
"Why do you wear that armor, Wanda?"
"Because of them ..."
She gestured to the barren land, and from within the shadows dark shifted. Strange, deformed monsters slunk, teeth gnashing, claws dripping ichor. Kevin and Betsy could not help but notice that many of them wore the tattared remains of security guard uniforms and lab outfits.
"What about the sword?" asked Kevin.
Again Wanda gestured, and from the deepest, darkest shadows slunk a dreadful monster. Huge, robed in purple and red, and also wearing a helmet, it hissed at them. It was as if the very devil himself had come to pay them a visit. Fear shook them all, but the creature was only one of Wanda's imaginings, and it soon crept back into the darkness.
"What ... who ...?"
"That was the fiend that put me here," Wanda explained. "He tore out my heart and my soul and sent me to Hell. My only dream is to stand atop his corpse, and revel in his death. He is my archenemy."
"Then what?"
"Excuse me?" Wanda had obviously been caught off guard by Betsy's blunt question.
"Well," the English girl replied. "What do you do after you've killed him? It won't improve things much, believe me. And by that time you'll have grown so used to your armor of hate that you won't be able to take it off. You'll be stuck here, a Hell of your own creation, until you become a mirror of him, I expect."
Although neither Kevin nor Betsy could see Wanda's face, they could see that she was concerned.
"But ... what should I do?"
"Take it off," said Betsy. "Take off all that armor and throw away that sword. This is your life, Wanda, your mind. You can't be controlled by anger forever. That'd probably be what that monster wants. He obviously did some dreadful things to you, but you can't let those control your life. Take that stuff off and come with us."
"If I take it off then people can hurt me," said Wanda slowly, stuttering a little. "*He* hurt me like that. I don't want to feel that pain again. And if I take this armor off then ..."
"Then you will feel pain, yes," replied Betsy, "but you will also feel pleasure."
"Listen," added Kevin. "Until a few hours ago I ... I was frightened too, frightened of myself, frightened of the pain. But ... well, I'd rather live with all the pain and all the pleasure, than never live at all ..."
Wanda paused, and made her decision.
There was a brief flash, and where once a mighty warrior stood there was a little girl of no more than ten or eleven. She wore hospital garb and Betsy could not help but notice that in one hand she clutched a strange, glowing cord, which had been cut.
"Please ..." whispered little Wanda. "Please, I don't want to be hurt any more ..."
"We won't hurt you, I promise. That cord ... it looks like a ... a sibling bond. Do you have sibling? A twin?"
The little girl's face became unreadable. "No," she replied. "Not any more."
"Is he dead?"
"I ... yes, he is."
"I'm sorry. Will you let me and Kevin be your new siblings? We'll look after you, I promise."
Wanda gave it some further thought; she glanced around her. It wasn't as if all this rage and vengeance gave her much. Just a load of strength, passion, and an empty future. It did for a while, but it wasn't enough for the long-term. She made her decision.
"OK," she said. "Make me whole again."
Betsy rose up. She didn't think about it; it just happened. Kevin and the mini-Wanda watched her, and she spread her arms like wings to hover above them both. For a moment she hung, suspended in the empty air. Her blind eyes meant nothing in mindscapes, whether they were her own or those of other people. So she closed them, concentrating instead on the *feeling* of the pair below her.
She sensed their minds, their souls, questioning and curious. Kevin radiated childlike innocence about the world, whilst Wanda's immature form was cagey and untrusting. She didn't understand what was going on, and in her universe not understanding always meant something bad.
Betsy drew a breath and splayed her fingers, allowing shreds of herself to flow free. They tore from her psyche, leaving behind glowing trails as they sped through the air and attacked the monsters writhing on the edges of the shadows. Howls resounded, accompanied by grunts and growls as the predatory shades fought against her. They were only waiting for this new presence to leave so as to retake Wanda's mind, fill it with anger and force her to reclaim her armour.
No.
Betsy forced a little more of herself out, blocking their questing claws. Her strength formed a dome around and over Wanda and Kevin, shielding them. Protecting them.
The dark creatures screeched, raking against her defenses. High above them Betsy remained firm, driving them back. Yet they were just as strong as she, and sprouted wings to fly up and pluck her from the sky. With her gone, Wanda would be ripe for the picking, and their jaws slavered at the prospect.
No.
Kevin's resolve rose up to join Betsy, wrapping itself around her like a mantle. He hugged her close, hissing at the monsters advancing towards them. Betsy wouldn't stand alone here. Not while he was around to help.
He lent her his strength, and she took it, weaving it into her own powers and sending it like a shining lasso that ensnared the creatures. They shrieked, but the rope drew tight, binding and burning wherever it touched. Kevin's immense power seeped into the bonds, and Betsy directed it along its way with a gentle, yet firm, guiding hand.
Together, they swept the hideous beings from both plain and air, sending forth light to take their place so they could never return. Gradually the tension around them eased, as one by one the beasts gave their last gurgling screams and vanished.
Betsy could feel herself tiring, but Kevin held her up, willing her on. He believed they could do it - *she* could do it - and she fought on for his sake. If she'd been on her own she may have succumbed to the intensity of the task, such was the strain it brought upon her mind. Yet with him at her side, she knew she could never, and would never give up. Corny as it was, Kevin depended on her, and she felt as protective of him as a mother would a child, or sister a brother.
With a final dying wail, the last monster fizzled away into a blackish plume of smoke. Only then did the duo turn to the small figure below.
Wanda was frightened, but she saw what they'd done. What they'd done for her. They hadn't been forced into it, nor threatened. They'd done it ... why? Because they had to? Because they *wanted* to?
She swallowed, still held down by her physical form. A small part of her ached to join them up there, to float and fly and be free like she used to be, before the monsters came. But her suspicion was too much. They wanted her trust, and she wasn't sure if she could give it.
Wanda.
The thought seeped into her mind, there but not. She heard nothing, but looked up all the same.
We can't do any more for you. Not unless you help as well.
She gulped. _What do you want in return?_ The mind-to-mind speech came easily, surprisingly so, and she blinked.
A quiet laugh, kind and un-mocking. She wasn't sure who answered. Perhaps they both did. Their movements mirrored each other, and their words sounded out in perfect harmony.
Nothing you aren't prepared to give. It doesn't work that way.
_So what do I give?_
A chance. You give us a chance.
_That's all?_
That's all.
No more, no less.
Not unless you want to.
Not unless she wanted to? Wanda considered. The frayed cord in her hand smouldered, reminding her of the last time she'd given herself over to someone so completely. Her fingers itched to drop it, but some distant part of her didn't want to. She wanted to retain the memory, at least, so she could compare it to the new memories she'd make some day.
_I want to make new memories. Things I can remember years from now and be happy about._
We can't change old ones, but we can help with that.
_Promise?_ she asked, even though she knew that promises could so easily be broken.
Promise.
Wanda sighed once, and then let herself melt away. Her feet merged together, and she jerkily rose to meet them. In turn, Betsy and Kevin descended to greet her halfway, and with one hand took hers.
Their essences flowed together, twisting and shaping as one and then speeding back into their own minds with thoughts, hopes, dreams of the others. Wanda felt Kevin's joy at the world, and he saw her recollections of a dusky cell. Betsy recalled white-coated orderlies, and soothed them with visions of riding a bike unaided for the first time, brothers crowing with delight behind her.
Wanda saw, smelt, felt, touched; she lived their memories, and wondered that they let her into their minds so freely. They had no qualms about showing her the most intimate things of their lives, from the highest peaks to the most soul-crushing of lows. She relived Kevin's sorrow and anger at being locked away, and his happiness at being let go again to see the world with new eyes. She immersed herself in the jibes Betsy endured at school, and stood in Mrs. Braddock's bedroom with a warm glowy feeling that she was making a difference in the lonely woman's life. She saw faces, heard voices, and knew things she'd never known before.
Her suspicion slowly dissolved, and the door to her own memories creaked open. Betsy and Kevin waited for her to allow them passage, not pushing, and looked only at what she showed them until she finally let go of herself and pushed the aperture wide.
They caught at her hands, holding her up, and for the first time in her life since Magneto locked her away she felt whole and complete. She didn't need armour against him anymore. He couldn't touch her now. Betsy's presence wrapped itself around her, an almost motherly warmth; and Kevin stood by her side, holding her astral hand. These two strangers, whom she'd never met before today, settled themselves into her rhythm, attuning themselves to her. They were her family, her life, and she let herself be absorbed into them until their heartbeats matched and they thought almost as one, gestalt being.
They were one.
And they were happy.
*
"So, what exactly does a Nullifier do?" Jean asked as she and the rest of their team scudded through the network of metallic grey halls.
Nicole's voice was flinty, like she had neither time nor patience to answer. "They allow us to remain in this timestream unchanged by the events we've incurred in the future. Essentially, thanks to our actions in the here and now, we're from another dimension, as our future no longer exists in the form we knew it. Sort of a diversion of time and space that the Nullifiers keep open."
"Uh, OK. So what happens if you take them off?" Jean was no fool. The attack on Ricky's device had alerted her to its importance, and she was curious about them and their significance.
Nicole grunted, pressing herself to the side of the corridor as they neared its end. "If a Nullifier is removed, then either the subject wearing it is instantly reabsorbed back into the timestream and altered into a new form according to how future events affect them."
"Oh." A pause. "Or?" Jean prompted after a second.
"Or what?"
"You said 'either', and that's generally accompanied by an 'or'. So spill, what else would happen if you took that little thingummyjigger off?"
Nicole gave her a look that could easily cut diamonds. "If events are changed in certain ways, then the subject would cease to exist entirely. For example, it's a certainty that if our mission is successful, myself, Mags and Smash will never be born, due to the nature of our births and parents' relationships in this time period. Without the breeding pens, a whole generation of mutants will be lost, ourselves among them."
Jean's face opened up in shock, the thought never having crossed her mind before now. She couldn't have known that Kurt had been considering exactly the same thing not so long ago.
Nicole's eyes flickered to the side even as her words sank into the brains of those around her, becoming mere slits in her face. "Someone's coming. I can feel the vibrations of their feet through the metal."
Logan moved into place, lip rippling. As the proven best fighters, it seemed only natural that they two should make up the front line of defence, and nobody questioned the action. "Already way ahead of ya, kid."
"Less of the kid," she snapped, just as a trio of armed guards rounded the corner with guns cocked and at the ready.
Logan barrelled into the leader with a feral yell and sent him flying backwards. The man brought his gun up to shield his chest, and they went flying back to crash against the opposite wall.
Nicole wasn't far behind, dropping into a roll that came up inches away from the second's feet. She swung her leg around, aiming to take his from under him, but he anticipated the move and darted backwards.
{TSEW! TSEW!}
Nicole dropped, laserfire singeing her hair. She pressed her hands flat against the floor and flipped backwards, bringing a boot up to clip one of the guards under his chin. Out of the corner of her eye she noted Logan grappling with the leader, who was miraculously holding his own against the rather pissed-off Wolverine. No easy feat at the best of times, and this was certainly not the best of times.
{TSEW!}
The laser meant for her jolted backwards along with the guard and disintegrated the ceiling as his head snapped back. Shards of metal arced downwards, and his face showed brief terror before the sharp missiles engulfed him.
When the smoke cleared his body lay amongst the rubble, speared through in several different places. Nicole showed no remorse, only a clinical coldness as she checked about for his weapon in the hope it would serve more than one master and wasn't too badly damaged. Her own gun was still with her, but having more firepower was never a bad thing in her opinion.
His laser turned up several feet away, caught between two pieces of metal. For a second Nicole played with the idea of trying to reach it, but an urgent shout quickly silenced the idea.
"Nicole! Get down!"
Not even bothering to turn around she dived to the floor. A strange whistling noise reached her ears, followed in short order by a cry of alarm and several 'whumps' in quick succession. When she raised her head again she saw the third soldier pinned squarely against the wall, a dozen or so spikes of brown-hued bone keeping his body suspended above the floor and his finger securely away from the trigger.
Thudding footsteps signalled Evan's arrival on the scene, and Nicole didn't dispute him when he hooked his hands under her armpits and hauled her to her feet.
"You OK?"
"If we get out of this," she growled, "remind me to thank you."
Evan arched an eyebrow and did a passable impression of Beast. "High praise indeed from the lady."
"Can it, Spike-boy. We're not in the clear yet." She nodded to where Logan was still dealing with the first guard.
The elder mutant had decided enough was enough, and threw his assailant off with a surge of strength and adrenaline. The man staggered backwards, but was far from out of the fight. He took another bracing step and levelled his gun at Logan's chest. Along the side the dots of red light signalled the power was maximum and ready to fire. He made to squeeze the trigger ... and got the shock of his life when Logan put a swift end to the action by neatly slicing off the end of the barrel.
For a moment the soldier just stared at his disembowelled weapon blankly. Then, when it started making a bleeping sound that meant nothing good, he loosed a yell and proceeded to hurl it down the corridor towards where Evan and Nicole were advancing to help their teammate.
Evan didn't even think about what he was doing. He saw the weapon coming and, on impulse, grabbed Nicole and whirled her around. Milliseconds later the gun exploded, pent-up energy with no place to go colouring the hall a brilliant orange.
Nicole heard Evan grunt once in obvious pain, and his grip on her arms tightened until she thought her tendons would spontaneously burst out from the pressure. Then a familiar hum started up as Jean's telekinetic shield swept around them and blocked the waves of heat and debris headed their way.
When the smoke cleared there was no sign of the soldier, but Logan staggered from the wreckage, his wounds already healing but his uniform looking much the worse for wear. He looked up, expression inscrutable as he peered through the rapidly dissolving fog.
"Porcupine?"
"Evan!" Jean cried, darting forward and letting her shield drop.
Nicole lay beneath where Evan had fallen, unwilling to move either herself or him for fear of causing further damage. His body was heavy, and smelled of burnt meat. It was a relief when Jean's telekinesis shifted him gently aside and she could sit up again.
Taking a moment to check that her Nullifier had survived the blast, Nicole transferred her gaze to the prone X-Man. The back of Evan's uniform was all burnt off, and the skin beneath it was covered in angry red splotches and swelling welts. In places the fabric of his costume had stuck to him, and a curiously unpleasant smell pervaded the air.
He didn't appear to be breathing.
Logan knelt by his side as Jean et al drew up anxiously. Forge and Jubilee were still vaguely groggy, but even they had enough wits about them to realise the severity of the situation.
"Is he ...?" Nicole started, eyes trained on the unmoving chest.
Suddenly Evan coughed, groaned, and tried to push himself up. "No, I'm not dead," he said in a dry croak, coughing again. "But I *really* wouldn't recommend doing that."
"Well, like, duh," Kitty drawled, relief making her tongue sharp. "Like, tell us something we *don't* know?"
Shrugging off all attempts to help him, Evan got shakily to his feet and stood, quivering. His face was drawn in pain, but his trademark grin was still fixed in place as if with industrial-style Superglue.
"I can still walk, and that's the main thng. No being carried for me ... nnnnngh." He tottered, slipping sideways and nearly falling off his feet until Forge - who was closest - jutted out an arm to save him.
"Oh great. Just great," Logan muttered, surveying the way before them and the terrible state of their 'rescue party' gone wrong. Three team members taken out of action, two still suffering from the effects of whatever the freaks in this place had done to them, him, Red and Smoky.
He turned, and Jubilee skittered out of the way. He paused long enough to make her cheeks stain crimson, and she managed to stutter something that could've been an apology for running off and starting this whole mess in the first place.
"Hold onto that thought, kid," he said, espying a small path through the rubble they could perhaps use to get to the transporters still. "I'll chew you out when we get home. Hey, Porcupine, can you travel?"
"As far as we need to go," Evan replied, slightly breathless. Jubilee moved to his other side and helped Forge prop him up so that they could stagger as a trio along the corridors.
Logan's lip rippled again, and he led them off with a harassed gesture.
_Oh, faboo._
*
Jamie creaked back the door and peeped in, eyes wide and blinking.
Ororo looked up, as did Pietro. The other three figures on the beds didn't stir, and their breathing remained deep and even as if in sleep. What was curious was how their chests moved up and down in perfect synchronisation, and how, when a muscle twitched on the boy's arm, the two girls immediatly scratched at their own.
"Have they ...?" Jamie asked, not for the first time wishing he wasn't the smallest X-Man, and thus easiest to bully into jobs like this.
Ororo sighed and shook her head. "No, they haven't woken yet, and I'm of no mind to disturb their rest, either. Betsy and Kevin's body clocks are working on a completely different timeset to ours, and I get the impression that Wanda's shifted to it as well thanks to their link."
"Oh." Jamie scuffed his foot, staring solidly at the floor.
"Either come in or go out," Pietro snapped, an edge to his tone. "Pick one, but don't stand there dithering in the door all day."
Jamie squeaked and slipped inside. Once in, though, he had absolutely no idea what to say or do, and so stood awkwardly, wishing he'd chosen to go back out into the corridor instead.
Ororo, seeing his discomfort, gestured the small boy should come and sit next to her. Gratefully he did so, and was a little surprised when the exotic woman put an arm around his shoulders and drew him close. She smelled of incense and green things, and the faint scent of rain hung about her person like perfume. Jamie inhaled despite himself, and decided that he liked her smell. She was also warm, and when she leaned her cheek onto the crown of his head he didn't shake her off as he might've done his mother or any of the multitude of aunties back at home.
Ororo, for her part, was equally grateful to Jamie for just sitting still and allowing her to draw comfort from his presence. This day had started out strange, and just kept getting weirder. More dangerous too, and with each new hour and event, the mantle of responsibility grew heavier about her shoulders. Once she'd chafed at the bit of being a Goddess and all the tasks it entailed, but that was nothing compared to caring for an entire household of mutant teenagers. To say nothing of their future children and enemies.
Ororo wasn't inhuman, no matter what people had or still believed. She was just better at hiding her stress. Right now she suspected she'd never felt so much so in her entire life. Even the drought of her eighteenth year hadn't made her feel this drained. She supposed it was because, back then, she'd had family to turn to and draw strength from. Now, though, her sister was so far away, and even Evan was off somewhere, facing who knew what dangers without her.
She sniffed, blinking back sudden, inexplicable tears, and Jamie's eyes travelled heavenwards as far as they could to try to look at her. "Miss Munroe?"
"Wha - oh, sorry Jamie. Am I too heavy?" She raised her head, drawing a sleeve surreptitiously across her eyes and passing it off as an itch on her temple.
Jamie wasn't fooled, but didn't say anything. Instead, he reached out and laid a comforting hand on those she held cupped in her lap. Ororo seemed startled at the gesture, and even more so at the mature look in Jamie's eyes. They didn't say a word; they didn't have to. They just took comfort in each other in place of the families they both missed in this time of crisis. Jamie wished for his mother, and Ororo longed to know that her nephew was safe and well; so for the moment they let themselves be substitutes.
Pietro's disparaging snort drew them back to themselves. "Lovey dovey crap," he mumbled, eyes fixed on the opposite wall and studiously avoiding the bed that held his twin. "Loada hooey. No, don't stop on my account."
Jamie slid off the bed. "I'd ... better go see what Kurt's up to," he said, thinking he'd have to call in on the other mutants, both X-Men past and present and Brotherhood, plus Principal Kelly, and fill them all in on what was going on vis-a-vis 'The Triad', as Betsy, Kevin and Wanda had quickly become known as. Nicknames, it seemed, were a part of the Institute now whether Logan was around or not. Whether his mannerisms rubbing off on the others was a good thing or not remained to be seen, of course.
Ororo nodded, keeping her own counsel, and he slipped out with only a faint hiss of the door to mark his passing.
And then silence reigned again.
*
Kurt had developed a rather unsettling habit. He was glaring at the clock, then at Kelly, then at the clock again. This had been going on for some twenty minutes.
The principal finally snapped. "What are you doing?" he demanded.
"I'm watching the time," Kurt responded. "It's 11:42."
"I can see that," Kelly said testily.
"In eighteen minutes it will be tomorrow," Amara stated.
"Your point being?"
"You're still slated to die tomorrow," Rogue said bluntly. "After midnight, you better watch your step."
"I am watching," Jamie said. Indeed, his eyes did scan the floor as he walked, only coming up when he was safely seated beside the coffee table.
"What's happening, little man?" Roberto asked.
"Wanda linked with the others," the young mutant reported. "They're all sleeping off the jet lag now."
"Sehr gut." David made a small noise and snuggled further against Kurt's side. "Why don't you find Rahne and Scott and take Herr Kelly down to the Cave? Put in a movie or something."
*
The small group of mutants hobbled their way through the base, hoping desperately that they'd avoid the bands of roving guards that were looking for them. They couldn't stand another fight.
Where the teleporter pads were was more guess work than anything, but their guesses were good.
Soon they could hear the hum of the generators. They were nearing the center of the ship, and the location of the teleporter pads.
Only two things blocked their way. One was a large, heavy-duty, adamantium door. The other was about 15 guards.
"Great," swore Logan. "How the Hell do we get past that?"
Jean sighed. "Shadowcat," she said, "is there any way you could phase us all past the guards and through that door?"
Kitty looked downcast. "Sorry Jean," she said, "but I don't think I'm strong enough, not for phasing so long, with so many people ..."
"Hey!" called Forge, suddenly. "I have an idea!"
"Well," Logan instructed. "Let's hear it."
"Uh, hold that thought," said Forge. "I saved these inhibitor collars, see, now if I can just find the right eqipment ..." He turned to one of the consoles near them, looked at it carefully, then smashed it, tearing out wires and chips. Logan winced at the noise, but no one seemed to have heard. "This'll do nicely," continued Forge, ignoring Wolverine's wince. "Now ..."
The boy seemed to be concentrating, studying the collar and the random wiring and bits he had picked up. Then his hands became a blur of action, dancing round the collar and the electrical pieces. Before the others knew it, the collar had changed, its smooth form gone and replaced by something more bulky, new parts attatched on it, strange bits sticking out.
"Congratulations," said Jubilee bitterly. "You've made the ugliest-looking necklace in history."
"More than that," said Forge, so caught up in the wonder of his creation that he was oblivous to Jubilee's sarcasm. "I've made an ... exhibitor collar!"
"A what?"
"So the name's lousy, I couldn't think of a better word at the moment. I just modified the inhibitor collar so that it does the opposite of what it's supposed to do. This baby should strengthen your powers, not weaken them."
Spyke frowned. "Isn't that dangerous?" he asked.
"Yeah, a little," agreed Forge. "If you used it too much, or for too long, it can burn out your body, or even become addictive. But I'm thinking ... we can use this with Kitty, so that she has the extra power to phase us past the guards and past the door. It would only be for a few seconds."
"I don't know ..." said Wolverine, pondering the situation a little, and also pondering how powerful a weapon that collar would be if it got into the wrong hands. Imagine how mighty Magneto would be with almost limitless power? He also didn't particularly like putting Half-Pint in such danger ... on the other hand, he could hardly think of a more dangerous situation than the one they were already in. They had to get out, and this option, no matter how distasteful it might appear, seemed to be the only one.
"Yo, Fixit. Any side effects?"
For a moment Forge looked blank. "Well ... I, uh, don't know. I've noodled with ideas like this before, but nothing concrete. There may be ..."
"What sort? Spill now, or I'll spill you." He brandished the back of one hand threateningly under his nose, and the young genius gulped, Adam's apple bobbing. "All over the floor."
Forge's brow creased as he searched through an inward bank of knowledge and stats from various experiments and tests he'd performed or meant to at some point. "There's the possibility of later power blips. Surges, so to speak."
Logan grunted. "Like Jean had a while back?"
Having been briefed by Kurt about that particular episode, Forge nodded. "Something like that, but it'd probably be only temporary."
"Probably?"
"Hey, give me a break, OK? I'm working completely in theory here."
Logan grunted again, folding his arms. He didn't like this idea. Not one little bit, and when someone lay a hand on his arm he all but cut it off in irritation. God, he hated being team leader. Now he remembered why he liked flying solo so much.
Kitty gazed up at him with wide blue eyes. He looked at her, scrutinising. "Mr. Logan, I'd like to try it," she said softly, voice barely above a whisper.
"It ain't safe, Half-pint - "
"And standing around here waiting to be found is?" She shook her head. "No, Logan. This is our best chance of survival, so we have to take it. I'll be fine." She gave him a lopsided grin. "Really."
Logan stared at her a moment longer, then turned roughly away. "Fixit, slap that thing on her and be quick about it. I don't want her wearing it longer than she has to."
"On it," said Forge, snapping the collar around Kitty's neck and tapping a few buttons. There was an electrical hum, and several small lights blurred into life around her throat. Kitty drew a sharp breath, but doggedly kept her feet.
"Just, give me a second to adjust to this ... this influx."
Someone took her hand, and she was surprised to see Nicole. The girl wasn't exactly renowned for being touchy-feely, but there was a stranmge light in her eyes as she laced strong fingers through hers.
"I'm only gonna say this once, and now seems as good a time as any. I'm sorry about what I said earlier; about you just being a place I got my freaky genes and nothing more. I was wrong. I - " She paused, then let out a long breath between her teeth. "I guess you could say ... I'm ... proud to know that you're my mother. There, I said it." She pulled away again, face slammed closed. "So let's move it, shall we?"
Kitty allowed herself a small, strained smile, before schooling her features into a mask of determination. "Yes, let's."
*
While it was true that the recliner in the above-ground den was overlarge, it had not been designed to contain two growing teenage girls. Of course, Victoria and Susan had chosen it specifically for the slightly claustrophobic feelings it provoked.
Victoria's long legs hung over the arm as she sat across Susan's lap. Leaning her head into the corner where the chair's back met the plush wing, she sighed.
Susan hummed in response. Sometimes she wished she could communicate with people as easily as she did with machines. At the moment, she was particularly envious of the instant bond Kevin and Betsy had forged.
Forge. The name had been mentioned, but she had yet to meet the man.
"My dad," Victoria said, as if reading her friend's thoughts. "What is going to happen to him to make him so different?"
"Maybe this," Susan replied. "Just seeing that his actions really do matter in the grand scheme of things. Kinda makes a person stop and think."
Victoria scooched backwards, bending her neck forward to rest her forehead above Susan's ear. In turn, the blonde girl rubbed her companion's back.
"What really scares me?" Victoria said after a while. "My mother doesn't seem to be here. At all."
"I know," Susan murmured. Perhaps she could have been more sympathetic, but in truth she was caught up in her own worries. Weirdly enough, one of the few holes in her mental records concerned the identity of her own mother. Besides the blow to her pride, the absence of any females in this time who bore much resemblance to her made her existence in the new future uncertain.
"I don't want to disappear," Victoria said, her tone of voice betraying her true age.
Susan turned her face to meet Victoria's. Before she could open her mouth to speak, a tiny bulb of water fell onto her lips.
"Su?" Victoria's features knitted together. "Su, you're ... crying."
"Am I?" Absently, Susan dragged the back of one hand across her face. It came away wet. "So I am."
"But ... but you never cry."
"Just because I like machines more than most people doesn't mean I'm completely devoid of emotions, y'know." There was a slight undercurrent of annoyance to her tone. One that didn't go unnoticed. Victoria's face slammed shut, and a bubble of sorrow shone in each of her eyes.
"Su, I'm sorry." She reached up and fumbled for her hand. "There's me going on about my problems, while you ..."
"Yeah, yeah, cry me a river." Susan sniffed, trying for a smile and failing. She settled for a sigh, closing her eyes and leaning back to sink into the plush chair. Victoria interlaced her fingers, and they sat that way for a moment until Susan broke the quiescence again. "It's just ... I don't even know what she looks like. Not really, anyway."
"Who?"
"My mother. I've seen pictures of her before the surgery, but it's not the same. At least yours is still alive in our time, but mine ..."
Victoria could've kicked herself. It was a well-documented fact that Susan's mother had been an active member of the resistance, and took a great many risks despite her father, Forge, begging her on many different occasions to stop. As a result she'd been so heavily scarred by various skirmishes that her face had to be almost completely remodelled until she looked nothing like she used to when she was younger.
It was a twist of supreme irony that, when she finally met her end at the barrel of a rooftop laser when motivating a jailbreak at a breeding facility, it had aimed for her head. Spyke had been the one to rescue her body, and the memories of Susan refusing to even look at it were painfully fresh. It'd been over three months since it happened, but the mental wounds were still very deep.
Then there was the added problem that, just perhaps, Forge and Susan's mother would never meet at all as a result of the Neos' meddling in the timestream. The possibility that, when the power for their Nullifiers finally ran out and they were reabsorbed into the fabric of time and space, Susan would simply cease to be. Of course, if that happened Victoria would never know, since she'd return to a time when she never knew her. But the prospect was a frightening and unpleasant one for both girls.
"Su?"
"Yeah?"
"We'll find her. When we've finished the mission, we'll use the last of the Nullifier's power to go find her, so at least you know what she looks like."
Susan laughed, and began playing with her girlfriend's hair. "Idiot. Where exactly are we supposed to look?"
"I dunno, but we will. And we won't stop until you've either seen her, or else the Nullifiers conk out on us. Agreed?"
"I - "
"You know, I could get offended if you say no."
A sigh. "Alrighty then. Agreed."
*
The Cave was, in fact, merely a room in a sub-basement level. It was a popular hangout among the teens, furnished like a den but with a wild overabundance of large fluffy pillows. It also featured a rather impressive entertainment system. The room next door was stocked with more video games and DVDs than could possibly fit in any other home in Bayville.
Edward Kelly was, he liked to think, an open-minded individual. But even he had his limits. Casually sitting down to watch 'Runaway Bride' with a boy who could spontaneously multiply himself and a girl who shot flames from her fingers was pushing the boundaries *just* a smidge.
Rogue passed by and flopped into a beanbag in the corner, a book in her hands. She flipped it open and glanced at the first page, eyes scanning the words. But it was clear she wasn't really reading. Every so often she'd look at her watch. She was subtle about it, obviously not wanting to let people know what she was doing, but Kelly was on tenterhooks enough to notice the small action. Hell, he'd been doing it enough himself, until finally he snapped and leaned forward, dislodging Jamie with a squeak.
"What on earth - " began Amara, but Rogue shushed her.
"Countdown," she mouthed.
Kelly, oblivious to their brief exchange, stared fixedly at his timepiece. Just thirty seconds to go until it was tomorrow. His deathday. Everything was in place, the pawns had been moved to protect him, but still he had doubts. Well, you would if some egomaniacal superbeing had decided to kill you and bring down civilisation as you knew it.
Fifteen seconds to go.
Sweat beaded Kelly's brow, running down his temple.
Ten seconds.
Oh jeez, why him? All he'd ever wanted to do was teach. He'd never asked to be some kind of martyr. He was a goddamn high school principal, not a politician.
Seven seconds.
Oh jeez!
Six seconds.
Oh jeez, oh jeez, oh jeez, oh jeez, oh jeez, oh jeez, oh jeez, oh *jeez*!
Five seconds.
Four.
Three.
Two.
"... one."
*
{KABOOM!}
The guards rammed against the door again, but it held fast, helped immensely by the telekinetic pressure Jean was levying against it from the other side.
"Forge! Hurry!" she yelled, wincing as the party of soldiers on the other side alternately tried blasting and barreling into the entranceway with some large object they'd managed to procure and use as a makeshift battering ram.
From somewhere inside a sizable hole in the wall where wires and electrical spurts zipped out, Forge's disembodied voice shouted back, "I'm doing the best I can! Try to hold them off just a little longer!"
Logan, Nicole and Jubilee each braced their backs against the door, helping Jean as best they could. Evan and Ricky lay in the corner closest to the teleporter pads, partially propped up by Kitty. None of them were of any help to their teammates, being either exhausted or too injured to fight. That didn't mean Evan's mouth wasn't in perfect working order though.
"Come on, Forge! Faster, dude!"
"I'm *going* as fast as I can. This thing's full of security lockdowns. If we try to teleport with them still in place then we'll most likely blow ourselves up!"
Kitty raised her head. Next to her foot the exhibitor crackled and fizzed where Logan had all but torn it from her neck the moment they were safely through the door. Just beyond it, the two guards that had greeted their entrance lay prone, blood leaking from one of their heads. They were alive, but nobody had paid them much heed since Nicole dispatched them.
"Forge," Kitty croaked, voice barely above a whisper. She could hardly move, and her mind was a mixture of warm fuzz and lead.
"Stop picking on him!" Jubilee surprised them all by snapping vehemently, eyes flashing as much as her fingers. "He's doing the best he fucking can!"