"What?" Rimmer pried his eyes open to find some kid leaning over him. "Who are you?"
"I'm asking the questions here!" The boy stamped his foot petulantly.
"I don't think we're supposed to be interrogating him." This from a tall, blond boy.
"Then what are we doing here?" the dark-haired one asked.
"Kurt just said to guard him."
"Guard him? From what? Who cares what happens to him?"
"Maybe he has a family ..."
*
"As much as I would love to make this guy squirm," Kurt said, "I know he won't have anything to say to me."
"I doubt he'll be interested in talking to any of us 'muties'," Amara said.
"Storm is good at this sort of thing," Kurt mused. "But right now, we need her in the infirmary."
"I'll do it," Nicole said, joining their semi-private discussion. "I have some things to say to him ..."
*
Jamie peeped through the doorway. "Brought you some ice cream."
"For me?" Pietro propped himself up on his elbows. "Thanks, kid."
"Nothing for you to do upstairs?" Ororo asked.
"Nah," Jamie sighed. "Ricky's trying to find Jubilee with his powers, but so far, no luck. Bobby and Sam a- mmf!"
In a fit of sympathy for the young mutant, Pietro had shoved a heaping spoonful of chocolate into Jamie's open mouth.
"Mmm..." The cloner's eyes rolled back as the sweet dessert melted around his tongue.
*
Rimmer recognized the next person to enter the room. She was (Norm+Norm) Phaser + (Norm+Norm) Toad. Full second-gen mutie, powers suppressed. Unaccounted for since the Smash incident.
"You are a lucky man," she said to him. "You are lucky that there is nothing in this room I can pick up. And you are lucky that my powers have not manifested, because rest assured that if I had any mutant abilities, any at all, I would kill you with them."
"You don't scare me," he snarled.
"I should," she said levelly. "Don't you remember me? I was trained in hand-to-hand combat. I'm quite good at it." She paused, seeming to notice the two boys for the first time. "They say to keep your friends close and your enemies closer," she continued, approaching him by two steps. "Count me among your enemies. I've waited a long time to hurt you. Do you know why?"
Rimmer glared at the ceiling, offering no answer.
"You don't know," the mutie crossed her arms. "You don't even care that you killed my brother. Do you remember him? His name was Joshua. He was five years old. Do you remember? You killed him!"
Her hands flew to his throat, banging his head back against the table he was strapped to.
"He was the only family I had!" she screamed. "And you *killed* him!"
The two boys rushed forward then, seizing the girl's arms and dragging her off him.
"Know me!" the girl cried, tears streaming down her cheeks. "I am Nicole Pryde-Tolensky! You forced my beginning, and I will bring your end!"
Nicole was pulled out, struggling in the arms of the two boys.
"You cunt!" she screamed. "I'll kill you, if it's the last thing I do, I'll fucking kill you!"
Still struggling, the boys led her to the infirmary. She calmed down at last, and they released her arms.
"Sorry," she grunted. "I ... I'll try to control myself in future."
"What happened?" asked Pietro.
"She went nuts," explained Sam. "Tried to kill the guy, claimed he had murdered her brother or something."
Pietro's eyes went dark, he put two and two together, and he looked at Nicole, the obvious question painted on his face.
"No," she said. "No, it's my business, I was there, I'll do it."
*
A beeping sound from the communications system indicated that somone was trying to contact the Institute. Kurt answered, and was relieved to hear the rough tones of Logan coming through.
"Hey," he growled over the static. "Anyone listening?"
"I'm here!" called Kurt.
"Right, we're just a mile from the Institute, open the hangar doors ready, we'll be there soon. And we got two new passengers, some telepathic-telekinetic boy named David. Pretty shaken up."
There was a groan from the background.
"Seems like Wanda's also woken up, keep the Speedster out of the way, keeping her calm may be difficult enough anyway. See you soon, Elf. Logan out."
As the connection fizzled out, Kurt adopted a slightly crouched stance as he prepared to teleport to the hangar. At the point where he should have leapt into the other dimension, however, absolutely nothing happened. He waited expectantly a few seconds more, then straightened to scan for the problem. Only then did it occur to him that he was starving, a direct result of not having eaten anything since his interrupted breakfast that morning.
Well, sometimes there were things more important than food. Anyway, elevators were invented to solve such problems. Kurt headed for the stair-alternative.
*
Logan slowed the Velocity down, hovering over the hidden hangar. The enormous doors slid open a moment later, and he eased the aircraft down to the marked landing area.
As the noise of the rotors died, Kitty came out of her half-sleep, yawning and stretching.
"Red," Logan instructed, "take Wanda up to your room for a while."
"What if I don't want to go?" Wanda glared at him.
"Then Jean has permission to 'persuade' you," he said.
"I am *so* going to jail," Jean groaned.
Todd hopped out the open door, glancing around the big empty room. "You people got any grub in this place? I'm starving."
"I'll make dinner," Kitty said, passing him on her way to the inner entrance.
"No!" Evan shouted.
"You don't have to eat if you're not hungry," Lance said, disembarking onto the metal floor.
"You don't understand." Evan looked panic-stricken. "Kitty's cooking is bad. *Really* bad. *Beyond* bad."
"I'll go help." Fred traced Kitty's path across the hangar.
"Is it safe to let him in our kitchen?" Evan asked.
"Very safe," Todd nodded. "Fred's some kind of cooking genius. It's unbelievable."
Margretha was the last out of the Velocity, and the first to notice Kurt leaning against the far wall.
"Dad?"
Kurt looked up and blinked. "Huh?"
"Sorry, Nightcrawler." The younger, female version of himself jogged up, tail lashing anxiously. "You OK?"
"Fein," Kurt waved her away with one hand, but didn't relinquish the hand propping him up on the wall. "Just having a rest for a second."
Margretha regarded him critically, and of its own accord her tail-tip jabbed the floor. "You know," she said at length, watching through the corner of her eyes as the last of the other mutants filed through the hangar door, "it's a really bad idea to try and lie to someone with the same metabolism as yourself. When was the last time you ate something?"
"Hmmm, breakfast." Kurt scratched behind his ear. "I think."
Mags nodded, satisfied with the answer. "Come on," she said, taking his arm. "I think I can remember where the kitchen is in this place. Let me whip up a sandwich or twelve for you."
He tried to push her off, but Mags was nothing if not just as stubborn as her father when she wanted to be. "'M fine, really," he argued, but allowed himself to be led away, even going so far as to let her wrap her tail around his waist to support his rapidly-getting-more-tottery steps.
*
"What should we make?" Kitty asked, looking around the kitchen as if expecting to find a menu printed on the wall.
"You have ingredients," Fred sighed happily.
"Uh ... this *is* a kitchen."
"It's a *stocked* kitchen," Fred said. "We don't have so much at the boarding house." He rubbed his hands together, surveying the cabinets. "How do you feel about Italian?"
"It's good," Kitty shrugged.
"Okay," the massive mutant closed his eyes, seeming to enter some kind of culinary meditative zone. "I'm thinking Chicken Parmesan, Penne a la Vodka, some garlic bread, and ... tiramisu."
"We don't have vodka," Kitty said. "There's lots of beer, though."
"Fettucine Alfredo, then," Fred shrugged. He opened the refrigerator, seeking ingredients and laying them on the counter. "Chicken, parmesan cheese, find a big pan and a couple cans of tomato sauce and put that together for me, would you?"
"No way," Kitty wrinkled her nose. "I am *not* going to be an accessory to animal-eating."
"Okay ... are you going to tell me where the stuff is?"
Kitty frowned. "I hate you. You're horrible. Murderer." She jabbed a finger towards the corner cabinet and the pantry. "I can't stay in this torture house." And she walked out.
Fred switched on the tiny TV on the counter, picked up a tune, and started cooking.
Kurt and Margretha came in then, talking quietly and gallantly ignoring Fred's unfortunate habit of singing off-key.
"You know," Mags said as she placed the salami on top of the peanut butter (which was on top of the jelly which was on top of the cheese which was on top of the onion, which was on top of the mayonnaise, which was on top of the lettuce which was on top of the butter which was on top of the large slice of brown bread), "I've always wished I could have met you more."
"Ja?"
"Yeah, I mean you, ah, don't talk much, least not when I'm there and ... well, you weren't around when I was growing up, obviously, 'cos I was lucky and got rescued when I was little, way before you were rescued."
"Ja," said Kurt again, not really knowing where this conversation was leading (except to an enormous sandwich which was impressing even him).
Evidently, Mags didn't know where it was heading either. She floundered for something to say. She was finally, after so many years, getting a one-to-one talk with her own dad, and she had nothing to say! How dumb was that!
"Uh, so," she said at last. "What do you think of the future, any questions?" _Dummkopf,_ she chided her self mentally. _Of all the stupid, stupid questions to ask ..._
"Let's just say," Kurt replied, "that I won't be taking any holidays there in the near future."
Mags laughed despite herself. He seemed so ... innocent, so lively, not like him in the future, from the brief time she had seen him, at any rate.
"But I do have one question," he continued, still keeping that wide, innocent smile. "Who is your mother?"
Mags felt the blood rushing from her face; her hands, currently chopping some frankfurters, shook; and she had to put down the knife. She was obliged to answer him, of course, she had to. What right had she to keep the truth from her own dad? One thing they had all promised each other, when they went back in time, was that there should be no lies, that the past should know of the furture so, even if their mission failed, there was still a chance of changing things. So it was that Mags slowly answered.
"In the breeding pens," she began slowly, "they seek to ... reinforce the gene, to try to ... breed in the best qualities, come up with the purest breed, keep the mutant gene strong. It's like dog breeding, and you know about that, it's nothing to do with love, or want, or anything human at all. I don't know my mom's first or second name, I haven't had a chance to talk to her yet, but she is known to you as Rogue."
*
"Got it," Ricky whispered.
"What?" Kelly looked up from a very dull coffee table book.
"I see Jubilee."
"About time," Amara said, rising from the recliner she'd claimed. "Keep ... an eye ... on her ..." Blinking over her statement, she departed in search of Kurt.
*
"Rogue?" Kurt grimaced. "Are you sure?"
"I have it from a reliable source," Margretha nodded, finally deciding the sandwich was done and pressing a second slice of bread on top.
Kurt accepted the proffered snack, saying nothing.
"I lived with a foster family," she said after a while. "Very brave people. Bribed a guard to get my records. The papers said I had another half-brother on the inside. My parents paid the guard very well to deliver a message to him. A while later we got a note back from him, saying that I had to come into the compound right away."
Kurt's mouth was full, but he furrowed his brow in askance.
"It didn't say why," Margretha continued, "but it was full of code phrases that we mutants used. So I went. My brother was waiting for me with -"
"Kurt!" Amara interrupted. "Ricky's got something."
Apologizing with his eyes, Kurt hastily swallowed the rest of his sandwich and went to see what was going on.
*
It was with a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach that Charles greeted the windswept, scowling teenager who disembarked along with his erstwhile absent X-Men.
"Hello, you must be Betsy."
"Well I'm not the Queen of Sheba," she said, without extending her own arm to shake his proffered hand. Charles could feel Moira's eyes glaring into the back of his head, and his gut promptly fell to around toe level.
Betsy must have sensed his discomfort, for her expression promptly switched to one of slight embarrassment, and she readjusted her dark glasses and said in a lighter voice, "Sorry. Difficult trip. Yes, I'm Betsy Braddock. You must be Professor Xavier. Scott, Rogue and Victoria told me all about you on the way over. Tabby spent the whole trip listening to her Walkman." There was a grouchiness to her tone, and it was easy to tell from the way Tabby immediately stuck her tongue out that there was no love lost between the two girls.
"Yes, er, quite." Charles straightened up a little and went through the round of introductions to the other members of his team on Muir, but paused when both Rahne and Susan appeared to be absent.
It was Moira who answered. "Rahne's off with Manny someplace. They didn't say where, but as soon as she came to fetch me he appeared and spirited her off." She shook her head. "I used to wonder about those two, but Manny's power is so ambiguous ..."
"Yes, well, be that as it may, I was sure Susan was right here only a few minutes ago." Charles looked around, thoroughly nonplussed.
His question was abruptly answered when Susan materialised in the doorway of the Centre, and egressed swiftly toward the landing pad with what looked like a hunk of metal in her hands. She nodded her greetings with short breaths, and spent a few seconds recomposing herself from her swift dash.
"Sorry," she said at last, "I was doing some ... er, research."
Rogue and Scott exchanged pointed glances, but said nothing, and made to introduce Betsy to Susan poste haste. However, it seemed there was no need, for when confronted with the blonde Betsy merely wrinkled her nose and said, "I know who she is."
"You do?"
"Sure. Susan Walkingbird, brains behind the Neo-X-Men. Otherwise known as Mainframe." She gave her the equivalent of a sidelong glance, the effect of which was greatly diminished by her shades, and then threw her head back with a sigh. "Look, I've already been briefed about this whole caboodle, so can we stop with the niceties and get moving? I don't know if anybody else has noticed, but it's the wee hours of the morning and I personally have had no sleep to speak of. I presume that you'll want us all working on full cylinders when we face this Smash person, and sleep-deprivation isn't the way to go if that's the case."
Once again, Charles felt Moira's gaze hard on his back, and dearly wished he didn't have to turn around and face her.
Betsy faltered, glancing between him and the good doctor. Her brow puckered in the same way his always did whenever he caught surface thoughts, and without warning she stalked up to Moira and stood, balefully, not three inches from her nose. Or rather, she would've been from her nose, if there hadn't been quite a substantial difference in height between them. Betsy was by no means a tall girl. In fact, she barely pushed five feet, but her blank stare somehow managed to deprive Moira of all the psychological advantage her height granted her.
"You don't want to let him go," Betsy said in a low voice, quite unlike her usual sarcastic one. "And I can respect that. You're his mother, and you want to protect him, and people *from* him. But you haven't seen what I've seen. What they've seen. You don't know what life's like where they come from. *When* they come from. Please, at least let me try to help him here. You don't have to make any promises now, but at least let me *try*."
Moira stared. Her gaze flickered briefly over Betsy's head, and she seemed caught like a rabbit in the headlights of an oncoming car. Then, finally, she let out a long breath and muttered, "You can try. Here. But don't expect miracles. Kevin's my son, and even with all this technology, all this funding, all this ... I can't help him."
"But I have something you never did."
"We have several telepaths here, girlie. None of them made any progress apart from sealing his powers in when they flare out of control."
Betsy shook her head. "Not that. I have something else."
"What?"
But instead of answering, she simply brushed past Moira and started off towards the Centre. Her course was so true that, had one not known of her disability, it would've been dubious whether she was blind after all. Moira gulped to herself, griping about the 'rude English', and followed, Xavier, Beast and the rest of their entourage close behind her.
Rogue paused a second upon realising that Victoria wasn't at her side. Turning back, she saw the tall mutant standing stock still by the jet, eyes fixed on the retreating figures.
"What's up?"
"She knows."
Rogue frowned. "Say what?"
"She saw into my memories. Didn't you hear her when she was talking about Susan? Her voice ... changed."
Rogue looked back, and then shook her head. "Look, even if Betsy does know about your relationship, she'll also have seen how you wanna keep it to yourself for the time being. Trust her."
"I thought that was what we were doing."
*
"So, lobocita ..."
"What?"
Rahne and Manuel were sitting on the edge of a cliff on Muir. The land beneath them plunged breathlessly into the Atlantic, about a hundred feet below. "Just so."
"So what?"
"So ... so I don't think your new friends like me very much."
"Ah, Manny, you don't know that."
"A de la Rocha always knows. More to the point, an empath always knows."
"Oh."
"Oh what?" A snickering tone to the voice, this time, followed by a fleshy thud, and a contrite "Ow."
"Don't be like that, Manny. You just ... take some time to get used to, is all."
"Ah, do not be ridiculous. I am an anathema to all that they stand for. Mutant and human solidarity. What worthless garbage."
"I see Mum's given you a better dictionary."
"Heh."
"Why don't you think we can live together, Manuel?"
"Oh, I'd be more than happy to live with you, loboci - OW! What was that for?"
"Don't be vulgar, Manny. You know what I mean."
"Humans and mutants? Well, it's just that ... just that ... we *are* better than humans."
"Oh, no ... you don't believe that ..."
"Hey, who's the psychic one here? I know what I believe. I know what I know. Look at how easy it was for me to make your pretty friend -"
"Susan."
" - Susan, right, look at how easy it was for me to make her do what I wanted. If I wanted, she could be at my feet just now, begging me to make her my wife."
"If she was at your feet just now, she'd be falling to a horrible death."
"OK, perhaps not my feet. But the principle is sound."
"It's not sound at all, Manny! You know that would be wrong!"
"What makes it wrong, lobocita? Hey, tell me that?"
"I ... I ... well, it's Susan's mind, is what's wrong! You shouldn't make her think things she doesn't want to think."
"But she *does* want to think them. All I do is nudge her a little."
"You're just lying, now, Manuel."
"I don't think so, Rahne. Minds are not as clear-cut as you think they are."
"If it's like that, then, why don't you just go out and do what you want?"
"Your Professor, for a start."
"Professor Xavier wouldn't interfere with your life. Don't be silly."
"Oh no? You don't think he would regard a mutant using their powers as they see fit as a threat? I suppose that explains why he and Magneto get along so well."
"He's not like that."
"Yes he is, lobocita. You just can't see it."
"You're just being vindictive, Manny. Don't fight against the Professor and Mum, please? Not again."
"Mmmph. OK, lobocita. But only 'cause you ask so nicely." Manuel put his arm around Rahne's neck in a brotherly gesture, and hissed as his hand touched the bare skin of her jaw. "You're freezing! Why didn't you say something? Come on, let's go inside."
"You're freezing, too," Rahne said petulantly.
"I'm a manly man, I can take it ..."
"Ha!"
"I can stand the cold! Really! Or my name isn't Manuel Alfonso Rodrigo de la Rocha de Guzman!"
"I'm amazed you can say that in one breath, really, I am. And what would you know about cold, like? Bloody Spaniard."
"I'll have you know that Castile gets very cold in the ... freezers ... "
"Oh, quiet, you. And don't argue with the Professor, please?"
"I already said I wouldn't. Don't you trust me, lobocita?"
Rahne just looked at him.
"Silly question, I suppose. Alright, I won't. Seriously, I won't!"