David made no move, he was huddled in the corner of the Velocity, his eyes wide with fright. Beautiful, phoenix Jean, and his songbird Wanda had left, as had bouncy Toad, large Freddy, airy Kitty and blue Mags, they all had left, except the feral Logan.
The wild man slouched by the door, trying to persuade David to leave. But David was frightened, he was going to be entering an entirely new space and all the others had left! He had lived in a small, cramped cell for the last five or six years, to go from there to a huge house with loads of minds...
"Don't worry," soothed the hairy man, with surprising tenderness. "I'll take care of you. I'll take you to the infirmary, OK? Give you a good checkup."
David gave a small nod, and slowly uncirled himself out of the huddled position he had been sitting in. He walked slowly, on matchstick thin legs, hobbling like an old man.
When he came closer, Logan put an arm round him, trying to help support the small boy.
They slowly walked through the mansion, David gazing in amazement at the beautiful and expensive furnishings. Eventually they reached the med-lab.
David cringed when he saw the white-washed walls, the strange instruments; he associated this kind of thing with badness, with ... things they did at the asylum.
He was guided to a small, flat table where a beautiful, white-haired woman was bandaging a silver-haired boy's hand.
The boy looked at him with an odd expression in his eyes. Almost without meaning to, he reached out with his mind.
The boy's thoughts were quick, super fast, David pulled out as soon as he could, not wanting to invade privacy, that was bad. But he did get a brief feel of the turbulent emotions, a feel of his personality. Something about it reminded him of Wanda.
"Hi," said the boy, nervously. "Uh, want some ice cream?"
He gestured to a large tub of it, almost empty, but still with some scrapings at the bottom.
David didn't need to be told twice, he had dreamt about this stuff back in the cell. Moving with surpising speed he grabbed the tub and, using just his fingers, began to devour it.
Logan glared at him. "It's customary to use a spoon," he growled.
David whimpered and dropped the tub. He fell into a crouched position, fear clamped his stomach, the delicious taste in his mouth turned sour. He was going to get it now. Bad David! Filthy David! Bad!Bad!Bad!David!
"Oh please don't! I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, please don't hurt me please don't hurt me!"
"Easy, my child," said the pale-haired woman, crouching down, and casting a scalding eye over Logan. "He didn't mean to scare you. Come, sit on the table by Pietro and I will give you a checkup."
"Thank you," squeaked David, as he raised himself and tentatively sat down next to the white-haired boy.
"Want some more ice cream?" asked Pietro, having retreived the tub.
*
"Forge?" Jubilee said after they'd been alone together for a while.
"Yeah?"
"I think ..." Pause. "I think that you're a real nice guy. I wish I'd known you better."
"We're not going to die," Forge said with as much conviction as he could manage.
"Who said we were going to die?" Jubilee snapped defensively.
"You were talking in the past tense, for one."
Monitors beeped in futuristic rhythm.
"What do you think was in that needle?"
"Don't know."
"I said, 'what do you *think*'," Jubilee repeated.
"Oh." Forge blinked at the ceiling. "I really have no idea."
*
"I think I found Jubilee," Ricky said.
"Where?" Kurt demanded.
"Hard to say ..." The newly-manifested mutant squinted. "Doesn't look like much."
Kurt's hands clenched and unclenched in agitation as Ricky stared blankly around the room.
"They're inside," he said at last. "I really can't tell where they are."
Kurt screamed then, causing Kelly to scramble over the arm of his chair and dive behind the Professor's desk. The scuffle reminded Kurt of the man's presence. "Herr Kelly!" he barked.
"Yes?" The man in question peered over the top of the heavy oak furniture.
"Do you have any training as a lawyer?"
"No?"
"Detective work? Policing?"
"I majored in Educational and Business Administration."
"Ever do any acting?"
"What? No. Why?"
Kurt growled in frustration. "I'll deal with you later," he said, walking out and muttering to himself in annoyance.
*
"I hate you," Wanda said.
"Likewise, I'm sure," Jean sighed.
"I don't have to take orders from you."
"No, you don't."
"I don't owe you anything."
"We did get you out of the asylum," Jean said.
Wanda had no answer to that, and merely continued glaring.
_Jean?_ A foreign thought strode into the telepath's mind.
_Yes?_
_I need you to scan for Jubilee._ Jean placed the psychic voice as belonging to Kurt.
_Why?_ she asked, already doing a quick mental search of the Institute.
_She went out earlier. Hasn't come back. May have been in a fight._
Jean extended her scan to greater Bayville. _Looking ..._
*
Betsy managed to navigate her way through the corridors of Muir Island Research Centre like she'd lived there all her life, traversing corners and making decisions that would lead her the most direct route to where Kevin was being held, based off the few fleeting thoughts she'd caught from Moira. The good doctor herself was never far behind, and though several times she made as if to call out directions, each and every time she found herself closing her jaws again when the help proved needless.
In her wake came Charles and his company, and he commented to Beast about fool's gold, as well as mildly grilling both Rogue and Scott for details concerning their trip to England. He suppressed a smirk as Tabby drew alongside them and proceeded to regale all with tales of their fearless leader's problems with the British road system, eliciting chuckles all round and lifting the tense atmosphere in a manner that Charles thoroughly appreciated.
Victoria trailed a little behind, adding a few words, but ultimately leaving the lion's share of explaining to the original X-Men. Xavier was, in her opinion, more comfortable with his own team still, and she herself was content to just watch and listen for the time being. To tell the truth, she was more than a little worried about this whole venture still, and the less she spoke, the more time she had to contemplate alternative plans and scenarios should the worst happen and Betsy prove incapable of helping Kevin, or Moira refuse point-blank to let her son leave the island at all. Had Nicole been here, she probably would've insisted they just take him and have done with the whole thing, but having parents herself, Victoria was more attuned to the pain this would cause Moira than her terminally-orphaned teammate was.
Thus it was, when someone suddenly grabbed her arm, and dragged her backwards through a door and into what appeared to be an empty classroom, nobody in the motley band of hurrying mutants noticed.
Victoria made as if to cry out, but was silenced by a voice in her ear.
"Shhhh! Button it."
"Su? What the heck are you *playing* at? We have to keep up with them or we'll never find Kevin - "
"Re*lax*," Susan waved a careless hand and grinned. "Whilst the good doctor wasn't looking, I found a computer terminal and hacked into her files. The system here's absolutely ancient, but I have plans of the place all up here." She tapped the side of her head.
Victoria frowned. "You hacked her files? Su, I thought we agreed on this mission - "
"Well, she asked for it." The shorter girl pouted slightly, jutting out her bottom lip. "Besides, there were a couple of other things I needed to know."
That raised an eyebrow. "Such as?"
"Oh, you know ... stuff."
"Susan." Victoria's tone was warning, and her brows knitted in typical leader fashion.
Susan sighed, and produced the small slab of thin metal from where it was tucked under her armpit. "I just made a few copies of files Dr. McCoy was loading up to fill in some blanks in our own research. It's not strictly stealing, just ... borrowing on a long-term basis. Besides, she still has the originals. Plus, I managed to get hold of some codes that helped me decrypt a couple more files from our time period on our friend Kevin."
Having long since, if not accepted, then at least come to terms with the technological mutant's powers and uses thereof, Victoria simply gave up the ghost on trying to moralize her, and asked instead, "So what did you find out? Anything we can use against Smash?"
The blonde girl shook her head ruefully. "No. I'd hoped there'd be a little more info on his powers, but Moira's as stumped as most people of this generation. His abilities aren't fully formed, and most of them are latent at the moment due to extensive exposure to psychics and severe emotional problems, which in turn stem from a neglectful father. The files from the future were a little more enlightening, but not in the way we wanted."
"How do you mean?"
"I got the data on how he died. Not pretty. Not pretty at *all*." Susan sighed. "I *did* find out a few other, though not exactly helpful, certainly interesting tidbits as well."
A pause. Then, "Like? Come on, don't keep me in suspense."
Susan shrugged, a playful light she rarely showed wisping about in her eyes. "Well, you were right about Raptor," she said, referring to the young mutant they'd recently liberated from a breeding complex in their own time, and subsequently placed with family in a 'safe' zone because of her young age. "I got a DNA readout from the Centre files, and both her parental strands match up perfectly. Alison Blaire and Everett Thomas, just like you suspected."
Victoria nodded, a little satisfied despite herself. "Hate to say I told you so, but - "
"No you don't."
"Um, you're right. I don't. I told you so." She smiled, and brushed a lock of dusty black hair from her face. "So why drag me in here to tell me that? The X-Men may not be entirely pleased with how you garner info, but they're not *that* bad."
Susan just grinned and scuffed her feet. "Hey, I live for subterfuge. Besides," she lowered her eyes, a little embarrassed, "I missed you."
Victoria's smile widened, and unbidden she reached out and drew the shorter girl into a warm embrace. "Idiot," she muttered, planting a kiss on her forehead. "But I missed you too."
She felt Susan's arms wrap themselves around her waist, and for a moment they just stood there, content in each other's company, and with no need for words.
"We really should follow the others, y'know," Victioria said at last, not moving an inch. "They'll be noticing our absence soon, and wonder where we are."
"Mmmm." Susan didn't budge either, and Victoria rested her chin on the top of the other girl's head, strands of blonde tickling her face.
"Su," she said after a while.
"Mmmm?"
"You know I love you, don't you?"
"What an odd question to ask."
"But you do realise it?"
"Idiot. 'Course I do. And I love you too." She tilted her head upwards a little, but not enough to dislodge the chin perched thereon. "Why d'ya ask?"
"Oh, I ... nothing. It's just ... I don't think I tell you that enough. If I were to ... you know, there's a very high chance that if all this succeeds we'll never meet. I just wanted to tell you I love you while I still can."
Susan was silent for a moment, and then sighed. "I get what you're saying, and I suppose I can see where you're coming from. God knows I've thought about it myself, often enough." More silence; then, "We really should go."
"Yeah." Unwillingly, they pulled apart, and Susan retrieved the copied files.
Halfway to the door she stopped, and turned to snag an arm around her girlfriend's neck, drawing her rather taller head down into a deep kiss. Startled, Victoria nonetheless fell into it, and came away a little breathless.
"What the - "
Susan wagged her finger. "Actions speak louder than words. Come on, let's go." She grabbed her hand, and together they sprinted off down the darkened, nighttime corridors.
*
"K-man," Evan greeted in the ultimately economical male way.
"Klappe." Kurt glared at him. "Can't you see I'm talking to Jean?"
Evan looked up and down the hallway, confirming his suspicions that it was empty save the two of them. "No, actually I can't."
"Well, I *am*," Kurt said petulantly, "and it's very important."
_Got a fix,_ Jean broke in. _Not even a mile from here. She's okay. You want to send a rescue party?_
_Me, you, Kitty ... and Logan,_ he replied. _Got any reading on the captors?_
_No ... but I wouldn't be at all surprised if they're in on this whole plot-of-the-day._
_Then we'll bring Ricky. Did you hear he manifested some kind of clairvoyance?_
_I have now,_ Jean said wryly.
_Front door, five minutes,_ Kurt said, and quit the conversation. "What are your standing orders?" he asked aloud.
"I'm just waiting for dinner," Evan shrugged.
"Which is?"
"Dunno. Fred and Kitty are cooking."
"Tell Kitty she's being reassigned." Even as he gave the order, Kurt was moving back towards the study.
"Kurt, what happened to you?" Evan hurried to keep up. "I go out for the day, and when I come back you're like Scott, only ... worse."
"I am not," Kurt snapped.
"Yes," the shorter boy said bluntly. "You are."
Kurt stopped, pressing his hands to his eyelids and breathing deeply. _What I Did Today, by Kurt Wagner ... Met people from future. Kidnapped Principal Kelly from his office. Helped person from future with manifesting powers. Defended mansion. Captured attacker. Nearly passed out from hunger. Yelled at people, ordered them around, acted like martyr ..._
"You're right," he sighed. "Es tut mir leid."
Jean appeared in the hallway then, with a report on events as she knew them. "David is hanging out in the medlab. Logan is looking for someone to babysit Wanda. Kitty's on her way."
"Ricky's still in the study," Kurt nodded towards the nearby doorway.
"Okay then," Jean clapped her hands once. "Plan?"
"Plan is for K-man to have a nap," Evan said.
"Excuse me?" Jean blinked, sure she had misheard.
"Uh-huh," Evan arranged an imaginary stethoscope around his neck. "I'm a doctor, and I say this patient needs rest and a good meal to ward off further symptoms of Scottitis, also known as Stick-in-Butt Disease."
Kurt smiled helplessly. "Who am I to argue with a medical professional?"
*
Kurt dragged his heavy feet towards his room, whilst Jean set about creating a new rescue team, probably with Evan instead of him. Not that he felt bad, he did need a rest, need a break from this ... frustration.
He'd been acting like such a ... such an idiot. Worse than Scott, even. Scott was rarely so grumpy.
He wondered why ... it was just the pressure. He felt like all these people were watching him, like everything was being piled on top of his shoulders. Worse, even, it was as if he had all these lives balancing on his decisions, and in many ways he did. After all, he had heard about the dreadfulness of the future should things turn out as predicted. For God's sake, if something wasn't done he would have a child by his own half-sister!
He wondered if Scott felt this way, if it was like this for Scott, having all these lives, all this responsibility piled up on top of his shoulders. Perhaps that's why he acted like he did, he just couldn't put up with seeing anyone die because of his actions.
Kurt didn't know how he could live that way; he was concerned enough with his own actions and repercussions without being in charge of so many people. Damn, he just wanted to be a teenager again, the fun guy, the one that joked around and made people smile. He'd never wanted all this ... responsibility.
"I wonder if I ever will ..." he mused, as he finally reached his own bedroom door. He'd just sleep for an hour or two, he decided, just to recharge his batteries, then he'd let someone else take over, Logan or Storm, perhaps. He'd had enough leadership experience to last him a lifetime. He also made a private mental note to, in the future, think about his experience now before he made fun of Scott's attitude. Sure, the guy may act like he had an acorn permanently clutched between his buttocks, but then he had a lot to stress over, more than Kurt ever wanted.
As he flopped down onto his soft, soft bed, he sighed and buried his face, willing sleep to come claim him. Mags' emergency sandwich had done wonders for his energy levels, but a good rest would perk his powers up no end. Sometimes it was hard being a fuzzy blue elf.
Turning over, he thought about his future daughter and her teammates. The fact that Mags was offspring to Rogue as well made him shudder slightly. It wasn't that she was a bad kid, but her lineage was just ... creepy. Him and Rogue? Rogue and him? It didn't bear thinking about.
_If this all goes according to plan, it'll never happen though,_ he thought, suppressing a yawn.
It would never happen.
He'd never have to breed with Rogue, and Mags would never ... never be born?
His drifting eyes snapped open. If Mags' mission was successful, she'd never be born. The simple realisation breathed new life into the term 'suicide mission'.
"Mein Gott," he whispered, thinking about the other Neo-X-Men. How many of them would 'survive'? How many of them had come here to the past, knowingly signing their own death warrants to create a better future for mutantkind? It was beyond self-sacrificial. They were ... they were just kids. Ricky couldn't be more than twelve years old, and even Victoria was, by her own admission, only technically five.
Could the original X-Men do what their children were doing if called upon? Could he?
He wasn't sure. They weren't just courting the possibility of negating their own existences, they were ensuring it. Could he go back to that day Mystique had wandered into Bavaria and stop her from meeting whomever his father was? Could he go back and make sure that little blue baby went floating off downriver without ever being spotted by Astrid and Johannes Wagner?
Maybe.
Maybe not.
He was still poring over the question when, at last, sleep overcame his weary eyes, and they drifted shut with a faint snore.
*
"Why's th' ceilin' spinnin'?" Forge slurred.
"Why you so cute alluva sudden?" Jubilee giggled.
"'M always cute," Forge said. "An' hot. Why's it so warm?"
"Who cares?" A feminine little hiccup. "I feel goooood ..."
A whirring noise stampeded far too loudly across their pleasantly hazy minds.
"Hello," said a vaguely familiar female voice.
"Cheers!" Forge attempted to accompany his greeting with an arm-lift, but didn't get far into the gesture, as his wrist was still attached to the table via a metal band.
"Where are the escapees?" the woman asked.
"The who?" Jubilee asked, annoyed at having her Forge-time interrupted.
"They're a band," Forge said.
"Five young mutants from the future," she said in a controlled voice. "Where are they?"
"No need t' yell." Jubilee's head was beginning to pound in a decidedly un-fun fashion. "They're ... around ..."
"You really from the future?" Forge looked up at the stern-faced woman hovering over him. "I wanna go there."
"Y'are goin' there," Jubilee said. "Always goin' there. Can't stop goin' there."
"Heeyyy ... tha'ss right," he rolled his head to the side. "You're real smart. An' pretty. I like you."
"I like me ... you ... too." Jubilee's eyes slid closed.
"You sleepin'?" Forge watched her through increasingly blurry eyes. "I wanna sleep wit' you."
"Where. Are. The escapees?" the woman demanded.
"You still lookin' fer them mutants?" Forge blinked so slowly that she thought she'd lost him too. "You ask ol' man Xavier. He knows all abou' dat."
*
In the Velocity a group of mutants, Jean, Kitty, Evan, Ricky, Nicole and Logan, flew towards where the combined powers of Jean and Ricky were directing them.
"We'd better hurry," said Jean. "Their mental signatures are becoming ... fuzzy, as if they're ... as if they're drugged."
Logan increased the speed, his sharp eyes scanning around for clues of where the base was.
"They could be using Alcoduce," said Nicole. "It's a drug, very powerful, quite addictive. It induces feelings of happiness and euphoria, like being constantly drunk. It's what they use ... used in the breeding camps. It makes the inmates, those with little willpower ... irresponsible, willing to do as ordered. And it makes them happy. Rows and rows of people in animal-like conditions, but so drugged up that they don't care ..."
Her last words were spoken dully, emptiness echoing in every syllable.
"Can't ... can't it be resisted?" asked Kitty, meekly.
"Huh? Oh, yes, those with enough willpower, or with enough practice can resist it. But it's better not to, they have other ways, much more unpleasent ways, of getting mutants to breed."
Again her words echoed hollowly, anger and sadness leaking from them.
"Kid," murmured Logan, not taking his eyes off the window. "You sure you want to be here? You ain't got any powers yet, and this is obviously painful for you."
"I am sure. I may not have powers, but I am not completely defenceless."
Nicole drew out a gun, small and silvery. Its tiny form bespoke of a quiet power.
"This," she continued, "will vaporize most things. It's top of the range. Stole it from an arms bank a few months ago ... or should I say a few years hence?"
"Uh ... doesn't it have a stun setting?" asked Evan, nervously.
"No, it's lethal at all times."
The other X-Men looked at her, wide-eyed. She was talking about killing people!
"You fight your battles your way," Nicole growled, seeing their looks. "Let us fight our battles our way."
Suddenly there was a beeping on the console of the Velocity. Logan, who had been momentarily distracted by Nicole, spun back to the controls.
"Kids," he breathed. "I think we found the base."
Looming out of the cloudbanks, like some fairy tale castle, was a huge ship. It glided though the air with a dark, sinister grace. The lights from thousands of windows lit it up, though the actual hull was black, and it remained deeply embedded within large cloudbanks, preventing it from being detected by the naked eye.
"By the hairs of Xavier," gasped Ricky. "How did they manage to bring something so ... so big through to this time? It couldn't be ... it couldn't be Smash, could it?"
Nicole shook her head. "Nah," she said. "Smash is powerful, but not even he could do that. There are rumors of a time-travelling project they were developing, a sort of portal. Perhaps this is the proof of its existence?"
"Either way," growled Wolverine, "we need to get into that place. Any ideas how?"
Kitty peered out the window, struggling to keep her jaw from flopping open.
"This is the kinda time I, like, *really* wish Kurt was here."
"Forget it," said Ricky, normal eyes closed, but with a faint gold glow coming from beneath his hair. "Nightcrawler's in no shape to teleport himself to the bathroom, let alone all of us into that thing. It's made of a special titanium alloy, and the struts holding it together are adamantium." Nobody asked from whence he got his information, but Logan grunted in reply. There was no need to tell *him* about adamantium.
"So, I'll say it again," he growled, circling around to keep a safe distance from their radars, should they have any. "Any ideas on how to get in?"
There was silence for a moment, and then Kitty cleared her throat. "I ... might have one. But you're not gonna like it."
"Try me."
"Well, Jean would have to do a lot of the work, so if it's OK by her ..." She looked expectantly at the redhead, who only sighed and nodded.
"If it'll get Forge and Jubilee out of there, then I'll do it. But once we get them home, I'm going to tan her hide right into next Tuesday."
Kitty bit her lip, and briefly outlined her plan. It was crude, to say the least, and most definately crazy. But then again, sometimes crazy was the best way to go.
Logan nodded, and turned the Velocity to swoop around and up, until it was hovering a hundred or so feet above the massive, gleaming back of the ship.
Ricky breathed a little for quiet strength, and concentrated. "Thirty feet ... left," he gritted at last, with obvious effort. Considering how recently he'd aquired his powers, his mastery over them was astonishing, but patently coming at quite a high price physically. "Ten feet forward, and ... there. We're directly above a cargo bay. As far as I can see, there's nobody about, but the walls are ... very thick."
"No problem," Kitty assured him, with more confidence than she felt. Gesturing to Jean, the two of them each took one of Evan's arms. Then they sank through the floor of the 'copter, and the telepath levitated them down through the open air until they likewise sank through the titanium.
A few seconds later they were back. "Spot on," Jean told Ricky, and they performed the same trick with Nicole, and then him, until finally, only Logan remained.
He waited until they were back on board, and then landed the Velocity on a rooftop, several hundred feet below. Exerting supreme effort, the two girls then somehow managed to carry him up, negating air turbulence and distance until they floated above the spot where several mental voices cried out to guide them. Then they dropped, slipping through the molecules of the metal and landing with a faint bump inside a huge, wide open space with no lights but plenty of room.
"You made it." Evan's voice was relieved, and he pattered through the darkness to help them up.
Both Jean and Kitty were gasping, though Jean slightly more so. She waved him away, telling him she'd be 'all right with a breather', only to be roughly informed by Logan they they didn't have time for such luxuries.
"We do," replied Nicole, appearing suddenly at his shoulder without so much as a footstep to betray her walking up. "Ricky needs time to pinpoint the location of your missing teammates. Until he does, we have to stay put and hope nobody needs to use this bay."
Thoroughly displeased, but able to see her point, Logan herded them all into a corner, then plopped down to sit and wait, growling all the while.
*
"We have *got* to stop underestimating the muties," Richards sighed, sliding into a seat.
"Were we?" Her cohort looked up.
"Of *course* they'd try to find Xavier," she went on, as if she had not even heard his comment. "No one expected they had the resources to actually pull it off."
"Did they?"
The high-ranking woman acknowledged her assistant now. "The male just suggested that they did."
"What happened to Rimmer?" The man, engaged in the conversation, turned away from the security monitors. "Wasn't he down looking for them?"
"I've not had any report from him," she said shortly. "The prisoners have no resistance to the drug. They will be useless to us for some time while they sleep it off."
*
Moira grumbled murderously to herself, arms folded and teeth all but gnashing. She had no love of the English at the best of times, but Betsy was taking the cake just a little. She hadn't stopped once in their zigzagging path across and through the Centre, but maintained her stony silence throughout. Moira wasn't sure which to be more peeved about. The fact that the girl still hadn't explained what made her so special for this job, or the fact that she was treating this place like she owned it.
Charles flipped a switch on his wheelchair and speeded up a little to draw alongside his old friend.
"Trust in her, Moira," he said in a soothing voice. She grunted, not looking at him. "Betsy's only doing what she thinks is best. She doesn't mean to annoy you, but from what I can tell she's not the most patient of people."
"I'd noticed. And stop picking inside my head, Charles."
At her tone, the students and Hank dropped back a little, allowing the two researchers to continue their conversation with as much privacy as the narrow warren of corridors would allow. Without them actually getting lost, that is.
Xavier let out a small sigh, and told himself she was only crotchety because this was her son they were talking about. If it were any of his own students, he was sure he'd be reacting in much the same way.
He opened his mouth to speak again, but Moira cut him off sharply.
"Charles, I'm not questioning the fact that these ... people, these Neo-X-Men of yours are telling the truth. I live twenty-four-seven in a place that houses much stranger folk than time-travellers. It's just ... their methods. Kevin's a volatile boy. The slightest thing can spark him off, and his powers have a shorter fuse than he does. I'm worried that, if I let him go with you, he'll hurt people. Maybe even kill 'em."
"Is that why you changed your mind about letting him go?"
"Partly."
"Only partly?"
"He's my son, Charles. I don't want him to die. If you'd ever had children, no doubt you'd feel the same way. Every day I live with the ... the *guilt* that *my* latent X-gene was what gave Kevin his powers. I gave them to him, but I couldn't help him with them. It's painful for him to use 'em, but sometimes he can't stop. I don't want to cause him more pain than he has to bear already."
Charles downcast his eyes, and when he spoke again his voice was soft but sober. "Moira, I don't doubt that you love your son, but please try to understand. If Smash succeeds, Kevin's going to hurt a great deal more than he does now. We all are, even humans. The guilt you feel now ... will be nothing compared to what we'll feel if we knowingly let this future come to pass when we know we have a chance to stop it."
"But ..." She turned to him at last, and Charles saw with only a tiny amount of surprise that tears glistened brightly in her eyes. "How is this girl any different to the rest? How can I be sure she *will* help Kevin without hurting him?"
"Nothing's one hundred percent certain, Moira. Ever." Charles sighed deeply. "You're a scientist. You know that. But I trust the word of the Neo-X-Men. Susan's convinced that Betsy's the key to helping Kevin, and I, for one, believe her."
"But how? How can this girl be the one when nobody else could? Charles, you're the most powerful telepath in the world, and even you couldn't help Kevin."
"It's simple really," said a voice from behind them. Both Charles and Moira turned to see Susan bobbing along, blonde hair flapping from its ponytail and sticking to the static on Victoria's suit. "It's all a matter of compatibility."
"Excuse me?" Moira blinked.
"Compatibility," Victoria repeated.
Susan went on, "We recently discovered that, despite common belief, not all telepaths are the same. There are actually different levels of telepathy, each slightly different to the rest. With the technology and knowledge available now, the differences are imperceptible, but believe me, they're there."
"Each type of telepath has a forte," Victoria supplied, taking one step for every three of her teammate's. "It's difficult to explain quite how it works without the relevant charts and diagrams, but basically Betsy's a second-generation mutant, which means she's powerful anyway, but her blindness has shaped her telepathy by forcing her to constantly use it. Most mutants manifest their abilities during the pubescent period in their lives, and even then, those with conscious control over them only use their powers when they need or want to. Betsy's been using them almost without stopping since the day she was born."
"So how does this apply to Kevin?" Moira asked.
"Kevin's a second-gen as well," Susan answered, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.
She smiled constantly, and Charles found himself bathed in warm happiness until he shored up his mental shielding to concentrate better. Something had put Susan in a very good mood indeed. Had he remained tuned into her surface emotions, he might have detected the flecks of sorrow embedded in her happiness, but as it was they went unnoticed.
"I could show you the schematics if I had a computer to connect to, but in layman's terms, Betsy and Kevin share certain similarities and attributes that make them psychically compatible. The same with Wanda Maximoff. It's rare to find a three-way compatibility like this, but it does happen occasionally. Betsy possesses the necessary powers to access both of their minds and keep *their* powers from running out of control, without any infringement on their free will. Like the pieces of a jigsaw slotting together, they just ... fit."
"The fact that they're powerful enough to defeat Smash is a side effect, essentially," said Victoria. "And one we're very grateful for. In our future, both Betsy and Wanda were taken off to the breeding pens before they could meet, and Betsy subsequently died of an Alcoduce overdose. Without her around, neither Wanda nor Kevin could control their powers, and both of them burned out. Wanda died trying to escape from the pens, and Kevin ..." she trailed off.
"Yes?" Moira demanded.
Susan glanced at the taller mutant's expression, and replied in her stead. "Kevin died protecting you, and this island. The authorities learned of the mutant breeding goldmine right under their noses and stormed the place. Somehow Kevin broke free and tried to fight them off, but he was inexperienced in using his powers. Recent records now show that he used up all his energy and was terminated whilst attempting to rescue his mother."
Moira's eyes went wide, and when she spoke, her voice was hoarse. "Me?"
The two girls only nodded.
The rest of the journey was completed in stunned silence, and when they came upon Betsy waiting, and tapping her foot impatiently up ahead, Moira found herself averting her gaze from the girl she'd just learned the future demise of.
If Betsy detected the older woman's thoughts, then she didn't show it. But then again, Charles had his own shielding up, and it's difficult to tell emotions when they're protected by sunglasses.
Besty waited for the small crowd to catch up, and then sighed. "Well? Shall we get this over with, then? We're not getting any younger."
*
Kevin was very confused when a group of strange people entered his room. It was a nice room, full of games and computers and comfy furniture, but it was reinforced with steel and power dampeners and various other, strange, contraptions.
Kevin looked nervously to his mother.
"Easy son," she cooed. "These people are good, competent friends." _I hope,_ she mentally added.
"Bu-but what if I hurt them?"
The fear in the boy's voice was heartbreaking.
"You don't need to worry about that, Kevin," said Betsy, her voice commanding. "I'm Betsy Braddock. I'm a telepath, like Xavier, only I think I can help you control your powers. Control is my speciality. Now, I want to try a quick test run, to see if we can do this."
Betsy gestured to a toy soldier.
"I want you to turn that into ... into a teddy bear ..."
"Why?" asked Kevin. "It'll just explode or go weird, like all my changes do. I mean, I tried changing mud into syrup once, and I turned it into fish instead!"
"One big fish or loads of little fish?"
"*Susan*!"
"Sorry, I was just curious."
"Just give it a go, luv," murmured Moira. "Please ... for me?"
"... OK."
Kevin concentrated on the toy soldier, and it seemed like Betsy was doing the same. Sweat ran down their faces, and the soldier began to change ...
It grew a little bit.
Fur appeared.
Its shape changed.
And there, where once there was a soldier, was a teddy bear.
"That's ... that's ..." Moira was quite suddenly overcome. "That's marvellous. Conscious usage on a molecular level without combustion!" She turned to look at the two of them, but immediately fell silent again.
Both Kevin and Betsy had their eyes closed, and their foreheads were slick with sweat. He was trembling, hands clenching and unclenching into fists in his lap and jaw twitching with obvious effort. Veins pulsed faintly in his forehead, and his skin had suddenly taken on a deathly pallor.
Betsy didn't look much better. Her hands were pressed to her temples in a typically telepathic stance, but the tips of her fingers had turned white with pressure, and her breathing was a little short and laboured, like she'd been running or doing some other such physical exercise. She still stood, but was swaying slightly from side to side, and it seemed that at any moment she might topple over completely.
At once, Beast moved towards her, but Victoria caught his arm. "Don't," she said, shaking her head.
Hank glanced back, turned questioning eyes on her. "Why?"
"They're connecting," Susan supplied, tapping the side of her own head. "Up here. If we disturb them now, the consequences could be disastrous."
*
Besty floated, unhampered by her physical form. All around her were lights and colours, twisting together and breaking apart in a pulsing dance without music. She reached out to touch a patch of green, and found a memory of grass, soft and ticklish against her back. She probed at a pool of deep blue, and at once feelings of hopelessness, of loss overcame her. A door shut, and she felt dull as the power dampeners came on for the first time. She wanted her mother, but she was gone, stuck behind plexiglass until it was safe enough to come back into the room.
_Kevin?_ The thought streamed free, unbidden. A reply was instantaneous, but wordless. More of a feeling that a thought.
Who are you?
Why are you here?
What do you want?
She sent out images of her own life: days in the schoolyard, playing alone; learning to read Braille; taking care of her mother; laughing with her brothers when they were young enough to play games still. She felt them absorbed by a presence, processed and digested. Pondered over for eons in the space of a second.
Betsy sensed the presence draw nearer, and in this strange surreal landscape a figure emerged from the colours. He was dark, swathed in desolate shadows, and hung like a puppet with a broken string.
She moved towards him, though how exactly she couldn't tell.
_Kevin?_
The figure raised its head, and she saw that he was covered in self-pitying warts, glitches and scars. Mental wounds. He hurt, and so his psychic form reflected these hurts and woes. Self-loathing radiated off him, and despite her lack of a stomach here Betsy felt herself reel with the desire to retch from it.
Go away. Leave me alone, or I'll hurt you.
_Kevin, I want to help you._
Nobody can help me. Not really. Not Mam, not the doctors, not nobody. They try, but it's no use.
She moved closer, and felt rather than saw him flinch.
Stay back. I'm dangerous. Everybody says so.
_Not to me._ She sent out waves of soothing kindness, the same way she always did when her mother was distressed. He relaxed just a little, but his guard remained up. _Kevin, please._
He turned away, revealing a humpback and legs withered beyond all use.
Don't wanna hurt nobody. Not anymore.
_That's why I'm here. To help you. Kevin, I know you can feel this ... this strangeness too. We're meant to help each other._
And it was true. The closer she got to him, the more she felt ... whole. Complete. Like he was a piece of herself she'd been waiting for all her life. He looked up, and in his puffy red eyes she saw that he felt it too. This odd calling, like a voice but not.
You're different than the rest. I don't feel alone with you. I always felt alone when the doctors tried to help. Under a microscope, like I wasn't a real person, just a test subject. You feel like ... like part of *me*.
The closer they got, the more coherent he became. Betsy reached out, knitting together enough of herself to form a hand for him to grasp. _Kevin, let me help you. I want to ease things, make them better. It's what I'm meant to do._
He looked at the proffered hand, and tentatively gave her his own.
I want to feel human again. I want to be free.
_You will be. We will be._
His fingers touched hers, and the world exploded around them. Light burst from Kevin, and Betsy clutched at him, refusing to let him go. She felt his fear, and he felt hers, but neither of them released the other. They wrapped together, like two souls merging as one, and Betsy felt the layers of darkness slowly strip away from him. His legs grew strong, his back grew straight, and all his blemishes faded away. She hugged him tighter, and as his strong arms encircled her she felt strangely safe.
But there was still a piece missing. A third part they needed to find. He knew it too, and in a moment they'd made a silent pact to find it together.
They merged, until neither knew one from the other. He was her eyes where she had none, and she was his strength. He was her support in the dark, and she was his guiding light.
Then, at the apex of this wondrous mixing of spirit, they fell. But they didn't let go. Even as they were sucked back into their own heads, they retained a silvery string of togetherness the likes of which only a few people ever know, and no matter how far apart they were, they knew it would always be there.
They were two, but they were one.
Forever.
*
The ice cream was all gone, much to David's disappointment.
The strange lady, who was called Storm, was busy running tests on them. But these tests didn't hurt like the ones the scientists did. Though she sometimes frowned when she saw the scars on his body, or the way he flinched at her touch.
Pietro was funny. He lived up to his name, David thought, he was Quicksilver, and he made David smile. But he was dangerous, he knew, not trustworthy.
Storm had just finished with the tests when Freddy came in, with plates piled high with food.
"I made some food," he declared. "Your kitchen's fantastic! I could work miracles in there, I'm telling ya! Here, try some of my latest cuisine!"
More food!
David grabbed it and eagerly gobbled it up.
"Amazing!" gasped Storm. "You make Kurt look like a slow eater!"
The strange boy gave a small smile through a mouthful of food.
He watched as Freddy passed Pietro and Storm their plates, then waltzed out of the room. He sensed that he was going to feed someone named 'Kurt'.
Things were good, David decided. They hadn't been so good since ... since ... well, since he could remember his mother.
He wished he could help, wished he could give something back ...
_How could you help, you filthy piece of gene trash?_
A familiar voice inside him grated, turned his stomach into ice, but it was true. Everyone said so.