360 Degrees: A Family Reunion

by David J. Warner

Act IV of "The Bucktown Timeline": Manchild reunites his alternate world parents.

360 DEGREES

A Family Reunion

written by David J. Warner

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This story (C) Copyright 1995 David J. Warner. All X-Men and Generation X characters used within this story are the intellectual property of the Marvel Comics Company. All rights reserved.

This manuscript is freely distributable via print or electronic means. Sale for profit of this story without the expressed written consent of the author and the Marvel Comics Company is strictly prohibited.

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CHAPTER THE FIRST -- WHO AM I?

They float thousands of feet in the air over the Atlantic, thousands of miles away from land and civilization.

"Do you feel it, young Charles? Can you feel that energy coarsing through your entire body?"

At one point in his life, Erik Magnus Lehnscherr enjoyed being a teacher, helping the children around him develop their minds and their mutant abilities to their potential and beyond. He sees that potential in the young man floating before him -- a young man who, in another timeline, was his son.

"It's...so heavy...father," says Charles.

"That is the challenge for you, Charles," replies Magneto, using his powers to press down upon a large steel block, while Manchild stands next to him and tries to hold it aloft. "We must find the upper limits of your magnetic abilities, else we will not know how effective you might be in a confrontation."

"Confrontation?", asks Charles, a bit surprised by Magneto's choice of words. The block begins to drop from the sky.

"Careful, Charles," says Magneto, pointing at the falling mass of steel. "Your lack of concentration is causing your power to dissipate."

Charles quickly uses his inherited magnetic abilities to try to reverse the falling block's direction, only to watch the steel begin to glow brightly and drip tiny pieces of slag into the ocean. Magneto notices that Charles is on the verge of passing out.

"That should be enough for today," says Magneto. He releases his hold on the white-hot steel, which flies miles into the air and breaks into thousands of tiny pieces. Magneto quickly encases both himself and Charles in an electro-static bubble, protecting them from the downpour of thousands of small steel marbles.

"Your abilities continue to improve, Charles," Magneto says. "Just last week you could barely withstand half that much pressure. I am duly impressed."

Charles Xavier Lehnscherr inherited the memories of his parents, memories he carries with him in his mind. He can see and experience his father escaping the infamous Nazi concentration camp in Auschwitz. He has seen through his mother's eyes the pain of losing her first love to a kiss. He has watched them as X-Men fighting Apocalypse and his legions, and experienced their battles together from both his and her perspective. Charles has learned to keep these multiple memories under control with the help of his teachers at the Xavier School, as well as the help of his first love, Monet St. Croix.

As he looks at the man before him, however, Charles sees a different man than the Magneto in his mind. He sees a man who has been possessed by madness, a man who fought and killed untold numbers of people for the supremacy of homo superior, a man who stood at odds with the dream of Charles Xavier -- the dream of mutant-human cooperation that survived the demolition and rebirth of an entire universe, and ultimately led to the birth of Manchild. He looks at this world's Magneto, and he cannot help but feel that this man is but a stranger to him.

"Charles?", Magneto says. "Is everything okay?"

"Y-yes, father," replies Charles. "It's just that...your words had startled me, and I was afraid that...that..."

Magneto, too, knows the differences between himself and the man that fathered young Charles, and he fears those differences will drive them apart.

"I assure you, Charles," says Magneto, "that I have no intentions of leading you into a battle, but I want to be sure you can defend yourself in the event that we are attacked."

"Will we be attacked?", asks Charles.

Magneto sighs and looks away. "I do not know for certain. I know I have made numerous enemies in this lifetime, and I have no idea how they will react if our paths cross again. I suspect they would not be friendly." He looks back at Charles. "But I cannot in good faith let them hurt you."

Charles stands up in front of Magneto, looking into his eyes for some sign of the man he knew.

"I know, father, and it is foolish for me to think such a thing, but your personal history is so much different than the man I see in my memories--"

"And you fear I may become the monster I was before," Magneto replies. "I understand your concerns. I am more than aware that the extent of my power is capable of driving me to the brink of madness, as it has before, and I am constantly fighting that insanity away. I must fight it away, for your sake."

"For my sake?", says Charles.

He turns and looks out at the vast ocean around him. "Fatherhood is still a difficult mantle for me to accept, especially after the death of my daughter, Anya. I was never truly a father to Pietro and Wanda, which I still regret today. These last few months have shown me the errors of my ways, however. The look on Little Roberto's face still haunts me nearly every night, and I fear that you would see me with those same eyes. (-1-)

"Part of me hopes that you will help me follow the right path, Charles. Your presense here has been a stabilizing influence in my life, a constant tap on the shoulder that reminds me I must not be the man I have been in the past. My hope is that while I teach you more about your powers, you will be able to teach me how to be more responsible, and more...human."

Charles puts his hand on Magneto's shoulder. "I will do all I can, father."

"As will I, son."

They look back at the ocean through a web of marbles. Charles picks one out of the electro-static bubble in which they stand, examines it closely, then flicks it at another marble by his feet, which drops into the water. He looks up at Magneto and smiles.

"Shall we return to dry land?", he asks.

Magneto loosens all of the marbles surrounding them and lets them fall into the ocean, smiling back at Charles. "Let's," he replies.

---

He dons a mask to hide the truth from the world. He uses a forgotten basement filled with technological advances to bring those who have forsaken the law to justice. He does not hate mutants; of this he reminds himself constantly. He merely refuses to tolerate those who take life for no apparent reason.

Carl Denti looks at the readouts on the screen in front of him, reaches for his psi-lance and walks toward a teleportational platform. He has not forgotten his mission, nor has he ever lost track of his target. All that is left is the timing. For the X-cutioner, timing is everything.

"I have warned you before, Rogue," he says to himself. "The next time, you will not see me coming." (-2-)

With the press of a button on his wrist, he disappears in a cloud of light.

---

"That's how it was, so this is how it is..." (-3-)

Rayquan Morris joins in the chant on his mix tape as he walks down the hallway, each step synchronized with the beat booming from his headphones into his ears. He walks as if he is ready to start dancing at any time. His fellow students at the Xavier School for Gifted Youngsters sometimes wish they could be so loose.

"You got to keep it real when you deal with..."

*Rayquan.*

He hears the voice in his head, but he doesn't remember putting that voice on this tape, so he stops his walkman and turns around. Leaning against the door with her arms folded is his classmate, Monet St. Croix. Even in a simple blue sweater and black pants, she is impeccably dressed, though it is difficult to expect anything less from a girl who is thought by most to be perfect.

"I understand your enthusiasm for those beats of yours, Rayquan," she says aloud, "but at the present, they are distracting me from my work." He must have *something* in his wardrobe that doesn't have a sports team logo on it, she thinks to herself.

Rayquan grins. "Like you couldn't block me out if you wanted," he replies.

"I would appreciate it if you didn't mention that," she snaps back at him as she turns back through the door.

"Yo, that's a joke, M," he answers, following her into the computer lab. "Lighten up a little. I know you're all upset about missin' Chuck, but you ain't gotta bite my head off or nothin'."

Monet takes a seat in front of her PC and turns back to her teammate. "I do not *miss* Charles, Rayquan."

"Get off it, girl," he replies. "You've been all uptight since he's been gone. We all know you two got that mind hook-up goin' on, or whatever you call it."

"You mean our psionic rapport." (-4-)

"Yeah, the psionic rapport. But I know as well as anyone you still miss havin' him around here instead of out with his dad. Don't ya?"

Monet's eyes wander away from Rayquan and look down at the floor. "You're right," she replies. "I do miss his presence here, and all the things we've done together. I always believed that by being psi-linked, we would never really be apart, but now, there are so many things we did together that we cannot anymore. Even being able to talk to him whenever I want doesn't seem like it is...oh, dear."

"What's up?"

"Tell me, Rayquan, have you heard the name Bobby Cremins?"

---

"That ain't Bobby Cremins! His hair's too long!"

Erik and Charles Lehnscherr's search for the woman that would be Manchild's mother has brought them to this small diner in Atlanta, Georgia, that looks upon the construction of the new Olympic Stadium and thrives off of serving its builders. It is a city that is so enthralled with sports that the appearance of famed mutant terrorist is easily mistaken for that of a college basketball coach. (-5-)

Unfortunately, this fact is lost on both Magneto and Manchild.

"He ain't got the face, either," says the man behind the counter, his apron stained from various splatters grease in the kitchen. The word Bud is scribbled on a small plastic nametag. "This guy's got a chin you could chop wood with."

"Charles, please tell me you have some idea as to what this gentleman is talking about," whispers Magneto.

"Ummm..."

*Yo, Chuck.*

"Rayquan?", Charles thinks to himself. "Is that you?"

*Yeah, your girl's helpin' me out here. Check it -- just follow my lead here for a minute, a'ight?*

"Okay."

Listening to his teammate's instructions in his head, Charles points back at Magneto with his thumb and quips to the man behind the counter, "Yes, but this man is much better at handling a zone press than Bobby Cremins."

"Hell, Ah could handle that," replies Bud as Charles walks up to the counter. "Just get a bunch of big guys in there and throw over it."

"I know," replies Charles, who pulls up a stool and takes a seat. "I'm just playing with him. How is Georgia Tech this year?"

"They got another great backcourt this year," the man replies, "but anyone with a decent inside game will just tear 'em apart. They're coached well enough to have a good season, but it won't be 1990."

"How about the Hawks?", asks Charles.

"They ain't got the horses, period," says the man, gesturing negatively with his hand. "They need to make themselves some trades and get some bigger names in here, or they gonna be a five-hunnerd team for the next fifty years."

"Not quite the Braves, eh?"

"Not even close, kid, not even close."

---

"You realize, of course," Monet says to Rayquan, "that none of us have any idea what you're talking about."

"Yeah, but this redneck behind the counter sure does," says Rayquan. "Southern people are like that -- they wanna get all chatty wit' ya before they get down to business. I know a couple of people down south who talked about nothin' for three hours before they agreed to a six-figure advertising deal. That's the South, I guess."

"Interesting," replies Monet, "perhaps this strategy is a bit more sound than your grammatical skills."

Rayquan shrugs. "Hey, P.S. 72 representin'..."

---

"So what can I get for ya, son?", asks Bud.

"Actually," Magneto says as he steps behind Charles' seat toward the man at the counter, "we're looking for some information."

"What kind of infermation, mister?", says Bud.

"We are looking for a woman whom we believe to have spent some time here in Atlanta," replies Magneto, "perhaps assisting in the construction of this new Olympic venue."

"She in some kinda trouble?"

"Not really," replies Charles. "She's...family."

"I have a picture of her right here," says Magneto, who holds up a small photograph of the woman in question. Bud examines the photo closely, noticing instantly the small patch of white in her hair.

"Yeah, Ah remember her," he replies. "Name's Carol. She worked on one of the construction teams out there. She was a strong girl, too, saved ol' Chester Wilson from fallin' off a beam once. Guys say she lifted him up with one hand, and ol' Chester ain't no anorexic, if ya know what Ah mean."

"Is she still here?", asks Charles.

"Naw, Carol split town couple o' weeks ago," replies Bud. "They said she came on to this Mexican boy in her team, then when he got her alone, she decked him so hard that it broke his jaw and put him in a coma for three days. Some folks say that boy jumped her, but if ya asked me, she was just asking for it. Girls like that send out certain signals, ya know?"

Magneto slowly raises an eyebrow at the man.

"'Course Ah don't mean t'say that reflects on the family," says a retreating Bud.

"Don't worry about it," replies Charles. "Do you know where she may have gone?"

"Naw, she lit outta here and never looked back," replies Bud. "Didn' tell nobody, neither. A couple o' people hinted that she may be headed even further south, but she didn' leave trail nowhere."

"So you have no idea where she may be today," says Magneto, looking at the man suspiciously.

"Cain't reckon Ah do," he replies. "Sorry."

"Well, we do appreciate your help," replies Charles. "Could I get a root beer for the road?"

"You sure can," replies Bud. He draws the soda from a tap and gives the cup to Charles, who pays for it and thanks the man.

"And good luck findin' your sister," Bud tells him.

"Sister?", replies Charles.

"Well, Ah saw the similarities between you and Carol," Bud replies. "You both got the same eyes, and since you said she was family, I kinda figured as much."

"You have a keen eye, sir," replies Magneto, who quickly brushes a surprised Charles out the door. "Good day."

Bud watches them as they leave. "Hmmph. Peculiar folk. Sure don't act like they related to Carol."

---

The light to Rayquan's left momentarily distracts him.

"Mentor?", says Monet.

*Look to the south.*

"We are lookin' there," says Rayquan, "aren't we?"

*You must look as far as you can see.*

Rayquan sneers at the old man. "So she in Antarctica or what?"

Monet rubs her chin at those words, then deciphers his message.

---

Charles stands just outside the diner in mild shock. "How could he think she was..."

"Look at the picture, Charles," interrupts Magneto as he holds up the photo of Charles' mother. "I took this several years ago when we were together. She was still in her early twenties at the time, and since you're in your late teens, there would not be much of an age difference."

Charles examines the photo. "You told me you knew her for a short time," he says. "You never really told me how close the two of you were."

Magneto sighs as he searches for an answer. "We were...very close for a short time," he says finally. "Perhaps had I not lost myself in the struggle for...supremacy..."

*Charles.*

His head turns away from Magneto as he hears his favorite sound in the world. "Monet?", he says aloud, forgetting himself.

*The man behind the counter said that Rogue may be headed south, correct?*

"Yes," he replies. He listens for a moment to her theory. "Amazing."

"What is it, Charles?", asks Magneto.

"Monet tells me that the man said mother may have headed South after leaving Atlanta. We both know that she has never been comfortable with her mutant power, because it prevents her from touching another human being, and she wants desperately to find a place where she can forget about being a mutant and just be herself. If we go as far South as we can, without leaving the U.S., we may find just such a place, where she will be considered for who she is, rather than what she is."

"A place where they care not about your mutant abilities?", thinks Magneto aloud. "Remarkable. Where is this place?"

"The southernmost point in the United States," Charles answers, "is Key West, Florida. Let's go."

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CHAPTER THE SECOND -- A DIFFERENT WORLD

Cuba is officially 90 miles away from where she stands, her long brown hair flowing gently in the breeze, her shadow cut against the orange and purple hues of the setting sun on her right. She thinks about the Cuban people, how they yearn to escape the tyranny of a dictatorship, risking their lives to float on homemade rafts to a country founded on the beliefs of freedom and justice for all.

Freedom.

She calls herself Rogue, and she longs for a taste of freedom -- freedom from her mutant power to absorb other people's memories and powers with skin-to-skin contact, freedom from her past as both a terrorist and an X-Man, freedom from the past of her former love, Remy LeBeau, which she carries with her since their fateful kiss on the eve of the world's end.

As she looks out on the ocean, though, Rogue wonders if she is doomed to spend the rest of her life running away from her past and her mutant power, or watching others do the same. "Carol!"

Seeing this woman run toward her, however, helps ease the pain temporarily.

"Hey, Rasha," says Rogue, looking back at the woman. Rasha is a cheerful young college dropout of Pakistani descent, whose long, black curls cascade in tangles down her back. She never met a Southern Belle until a friend introduced her to this woman named Carol, and the two have been hanging out together ever since.

"Oh, wow," Rasha says, "that sunset just sets off the streak in your hair so perfectly. You never told me how you colored it like that."

"Ah didn't, really," Rogue replies. "It's sorta natural."

"God, I absolutely envy your hair," Rasha continues, holding Rogue's strands gently in her hands. "Would you mind if I put a white streak in mine like that?"

"Whatever floats your boat, sugah. I'd be happy to help you out if I could."

"Too cool. Thank you so much."

Rasha puts her arm around her friend's shoulder, but Rogue carefully moves it away.

"What's wrong, Carol?"

"Rasha," Rogue begins, "we've only known each other for a few days here, and Ah really like you, but..."

"But you don't walk that way."

"What?"

"Don't sweat it. I know all too well that ninety percent of all the women on the planet won't ever see me in some romantic light. I didn't expect you to, either."

"It's not that, Rasha. It's just that...well, you've been so open with me about what you are, and I've been...kinda keepin' a secret."

"What is it, Carol?"

She folds her arms and looks away, afraid of the response she will receive.

"I'm a mutant."

Rogue bows her head in embarassment, but Rasha walks up behind her and places a comforting hand on her back.

"That's it?", she replies. "That's your big secret?"

"Well, yeah," says Rogue. "Isn't that enough?"

"That's nothing!", returns Rasha. "I know half a dozen mutants on this island alone, and they get along just fine."

"You're kidding," replies Rogue.

"Of course not. We've got one guy who can breathe underwater, another who's got this enormous lung capacity and can hold his breath forever, and one of the local dental assistants has this X-Ray power that lets her get exposures of everyone's teeth without all that equipment.

"This is Key West, Carol. Nobody cares. Anyone with plans on taking over the world by starting here will end up on the beach within a month, sipping a pina colada and thinking they've succeeded."

"Sounds like all those folk all got useful powers, though," replies Rogue.

"Why? What's your power?"

"Ah absorb memories and other mutant abilities just by touching their skin. First boy Ah ever kissed ended up in a coma the rest of his life."

Rasha's wide smile narrows. "Oh, man, that's a TOTAL bummer," she says. "Can't you turn it off if you wanted?"

"If Ah could," Rogue replies, "I wouldn't be here tryin' to escape from the world."

Rasha begins to rub Rogue's shoulders, keeping her fingers on her friend's shirt. "Oh, wow," she says. "I am sooooo sorry. I'd been meaning to ask you about all those gloves you wear, but I would have never guessed that. If there's anything I can do to make you feel better, just say the word. I know I could never live without being able to touch someone else. I've always needed that."

Rasha's hands drop to her side as her mind wanders back to her younger days. "My parents never were big on contact. I used to hug everyone I knew, because I never got a lot of hugs from my dad. That bastard. He could never accept his little girl being a lesbian, thought I was some kind of a freak. He tossed me out the door, and I haven't looked back since."

Rogue turns around and stares back at Rasha. "Mah daddy did the same thing."

Immediately, the two women hug each other and sob softly for a few moments. Finally, Rasha pulls away and says, "What say we forget about all this depressing stuff and grab some poison at Cap'n Jack's?"

"If you're buyin', sugah."

"Hey, you bought last time, right?"

Rasha and her friend Carol skip arm in arm down the pier to the island, unaware of the shadow hiding in the palm trees, still seeking the right moment alone with its target.

---

The next day.

Locals and tourists alike smile at him as he walks by, his khaki vest blowing slightly in the warm breeze, his guitar slung over his back. He breathes deeply the salty ocean air, taking in the scenery around him with a sense of wonder. Charles Xavier Lehnscherr has seen many places in his young life, but few of these places have ever seemed as relaxed and care-free as this small island off the edge of Florida. As he watches life from a new perspective, he finds the atmosphere of Key West...

*Culturally depraved.*

"Come now, Monet," he thinks in reply to his psi-linked love. "You can find culture anywhere you look."

*Even in Apocalypse's world?*

Manchild pauses. "I suppose pathological Darwinism and violence could have certain cultural undertones."

*You spent too much time with Everett and Rayquan while you were here.*

"Perhaps, but just look at this place, all these people." He acknowledges a flirtatious stare from a bikini-clad young woman with a smile and a nod. "Nobody here worries about all the hatred in the world. They all co-exist and do business together as if none of them were any different from the other. Isn't that why we're all here in the first place?"

*...It would be nice, would it not?*

"I imagine Boston won't be quite as friendly."

*No, but we intend to enjoy ourselves regardless.*

"Who all is with you?"

*All but a few -- Penance and Emma stayed behind, and Rayquan is in New York this weekend visiting his family and friends.*

"Ah, New York City. We must go back there one day, Monet. There are so many sights and sounds I wish to see again..."

The song of an old bluesman catches his ear. He looks over to a small patch of green and yellow grass beneath a shady tree, seeing an elderly black man in a Hawaiian-print shirt, torn jeans and sunglasses sitting in a lawn chair, strumming a guitar and singing.

"As she's walkin'...through the clouds...with a circus man that's runnin' 'round..."

A passing tourist drops a quarter into the man's guitar case. The bluesman thanks him and continues singing, not minding that the rest of the world walks by and pays him little attention. Charles walks up to the tree and leans against it, fascinated by the music.

"When I'm saaaaad she comes to me...with a thousand smiles she gives to me free...It's alright, alright, she says...take anything you want from me..."

The bluesman pauses, turning just slightly to the right. "You enjoyin' the song, sir?"

Charles is startled. "Who, me?"

"Well, unless someone else is standin' over there. I kinda felt someone leanin' by the tree list'nin' to ol' Rufus play a lick or two. Come sit a spell here with an old man."

Charles takes a seat on the grass next to the bluesman. "That's a beautiful song," replies Charles. "I've never heard it before. What do you call it?"

"Oh, that's just an ol' Jimi Hendrix tune," Rufus replies. "Called 'Little Wing.'" He plays a few more riffs and smiles.

"Who is he singing about?", asks Charles.

"Well, knowin' how Jimi was, he was prob'ly singin' about his drug addiction."

*Oh, how repulsive,* thinks Monet. Charles is equally surprised.

"You mean he wrote such a beautiful song about such a thorougly degrading and abusive habit?", he says.

"Well, you could look at it like that," replies Rufus, "Jimi used ta do all sorts of stuff to himself, died doin' that stuff, too. But I tell you what -- Jimi woulda prolly been good if he stayed clean and sober, but he would'na been nearly as memorable. Jimi had a little somethin' somethin', ya know."

"It seems like such a shame," replies Charles. "When I first heard you sing those lyrics, they reminded me of a young woman."

Rufus' eyebrows perk up. "S'at so? What's her name, son?"

"Monet."

"Monet, huh? Sounds like a beautiful name for a beautiful girl. Is she beautiful, son?"

"Words can barely describe her beauty."

"Hoooo-whee!" Rufus shakes his head and chuckles. "Makes me wish I could still use these ol' eyes o' mine. I lost 'em a long time ago, back when I was still a military man. Looooong time ago. But I figured there wasn't no point in bein' down about it, so I came on down here to entertain the folks as they walk by. You learn a lot talkin' to people 'round here."

"I know," replies Charles. "Could you teach me 'Little Wing'?"

"You got a guitar there, son?", replies Rufus, his voice jumping several octaves in surprise.

"Sure do," Charles says, pulling the strap of the case off his shoulder.

"You been holdin' out on me," Rufus replies. "Pull that thing on out there and show me what kinda chops ya got."

Charles spends a few minutes fumbling through the complicated chords of the song until he figures out their pattern, then spends a few moments playing out the rhythm as Rufus plays an inspired solo. A small crowd gathers around them as the begin singing together, Rufus singing one line, Charles singing the same line a measure later. Rufus plays another solo part, encouraging Charles to try one as well, and the crowd is attracted to the emotion young man puts into his performance, throughout which only four words go through his mind.

"I love you, Monet."

Somewhere on a Massachusetts highway, a young woman looks out a van window into a gray sky, hears the music, and feels her heart soar above its clouds. "I miss you, Charles," she mouths silently.

The performance finally ends, and an impressed crowd gives the duo a rousing ovation. As Rufus acknowledges the crowd, a man steps forward toward Charles.

"You seem to have developed quite a following, Charles," says Magneto, the faintest hint of a smile on his lips. "I hope this doesn't deter you on our journey."

"Not at all, father," he replies. "Shall we be going?"

Rufus tilts his head at the father's voice. "Ya know," he says to the older man, "your voice sounds awful familiar to me. You ever in the MPs, mister? Maybe down at Cape Citadel?"

Magneto grows apprehensive at the sound of those words and abruptly walks away, motioning for Charles to come with him. Charles looks back at his suddenly fleeing father, then turns back to Rufus, giving him a firm handshake.

"Thank you for your time, Rufus," says Charles.

"Oh, anytime, son," Rufus replies, returning the boy's handshake. "You oughta head on down to The Alcove tonight. They gonna have themselves a blues show that'll knock your socks off."

"I will," he replies, finally letting go of the old bluesman's hand, "and thank you."

Most of the women sigh or applaud as he walks past, hoping to catch up to the man he called his father. None of them knew what just happened in front of them. Not even Rufus could feel Charles' presense in his mind, sifting through memories of days when Rufus was not blind, when he served his country with pride, and when his life took a devastating turn one fateful day when Magneto's battle with the newly- emerging X-Men left Rufus scarred for life. (-1-)

He catches up to the man whose long gray locks flow behind him, grabbing him forcefully on the shoulder.

"Tell me the truth, father," he says to him.

Magneto turns his head around slowly. "There is little I have not told you, son," he replies. "I am not proud of some of those presumed accomplishments."

"Part of me wants to believe you, father," Charles replies, "but I have to know the whole truth."

He takes Magneto's hand and puts it firmly in his. "And I need you to tell me."

Manchild looks for images that have defined this stranger that wants to call himself his father. As the events of Magneto's life swirl through his mind, Manchild notes three prominent images -- images of the deaths of three women.

The first death he knows -- Anya, Magneto's young daughter, killed in a fire, thanks to the prejudice of others. The second he does not know -- Isabelle, a young woman from South America who befriended Magneto, fell in love with him, then was murdered in his presence at the hands of his Nazi enemies, men who drove Magneto into his earliest madness. (-2-)

Then comes the third death. Her name was Zaladane, and she presumed to use her Magnetic powers -- power that rivaled Magneto himself -- to take over the Savage Land, then the rest of the planet with it. Magneto, Rogue and the forces of SHIELD somehow combined to prevent her plan from succeeding, yet for Magneto, this was not enough. He believed the only way to stop her was to kill her.

Rogue refused to believe that. She spoke with an eloquence that belied her heritage. In the end, though, it wasn't enough, for Magneto believed that his fate and his destiny had been secured, and Zaladane was murdered. (-3-)

Manchild slowly lets the hand loose, looking at the man before him for a moment in an entirely different light, until his knees finally buckle, and he falls to his side and begins to vomit nervously on the edge of a gravel walkway.

Magneto gets down on one knee to comfort the boy. "Now do you see?", he asks him. "Now do you know the burden I carry now that my memories have returned to me?"

As he balances himself precariously on his hands and knees, Manchild tries his hardest to catch his breath. "Why father?", he whispers. "Why did you kill Zaladane?"

Magneto fights the urge to recoil at the sound of her name. "I truly believed that her death would have saved the world from its destruction," he says. "Rogue tried to convince me otherwise, but it was my intention to safeguard all of mutantkind, and hers to destroy all. I was certain than I was right."

"What if Charles Xavier had thought the same of you, father?", returns Charles. "Would that have been right?"

As he bows his head, feeling shame at the boy's words, he searches long and hard for an answer both of them can live with. "It is said that the victim of a bully would himself become the bully if given the chance," he says finally. "Perhaps this is why I destroyed Zaladane. Had I not been treated as I was, I would have seen the world in a different light. Perhaps had Charles Xavier died to save my life, I would have seen the veracity behind his dreams of equality, as your father certainly did."

"Didn't you see that veracity once, though? Didn't you lead the next generation of mutants at one point in your life?"

Magneto sighs deeply. "But at what price, Charles? The blood of innocent lives rests on my hands. How will I be able to repay those debts?"

"You cannot spend your entire life regretting your mistakes. You have to forgive yourself for them, learn from them, accept them, and move forward with the knowledge that will prevent you from repeating those errors in the future. Otherwise, insanity will overcome you."

Magneto rises to his feet, knowing from experience that the boy speaks the truth. "You are right, son, and we cannot let that happen." He holds out his hand to the boy. "Come with me, Charles. Let us take a moment to learn together what the dreamers can accomplish."

Manchild rises and faces the man one last time. "Promise me before we continue," he says. "No more secrets. We could never have any kind of trust if I knew you would always hide the truth from me."

Magneto nods. "Agreed." And he walks down the road with him, for a moment feeling pride that, in any world, he would be the father of this noble youth.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

INTERLUDE

---

Rayquan Morris has seen many things since his birth thirteen years ago: poverty, drug use, gang violence, police brutality, his brother's funeral, racism toward both blacks and mutants, sentinel attacks, the genetic tinkering of Mr. Sinister, the return of Magneto, the manifestation of his own mutant abilities. He would gladly trade all of these things for the chance to spend some time with one man.

His father.

"What's up, Dad?"

The cold air blows across the face of the Generation X member known as Perkolater as he stands in front of the dust-covered tombstone, reading simply, "Raymond Morris, 1951-1982." He pays little attention to the grave to his left - "LaMont Morris, 1976-1992."

"Things have been pretty crazy around here lately," Rayquan says to the ghost he believes to be listening. "I'm goin' to a private school now, and a group of black mutants is cleanin' up your old neighborhood. They the good guys, too, gettin' hood-watches and small businesses on their feet and all that.

"I wonder what you'd say about that, about mutants. Mama says you wouldn't be as understanding as the rest of the block is. I wonder what you'd say if you knew I was a mutant, too. My power ain't too much, though, and I need a good cup of coffee just to use it. But I can slow down time. I can make everything move real slow around me. I can't really show you out here, but it comes in handy. I'm even down with a whole new crew of mutants at my school. They called 'Generation X.' One hella powerful crew, too. We all gonna be X-Men one day.

"I wonder what you'd think of that, your son bein' an X-man. I know Mariah's on that tip about shinin' down on me from heaven and all that, but I still wonder, ya know? What you'd think of me where I'm at right now. I wonder if you ever see my brother where you're at. He's right next to ya here. Mama says LaMont turned bad the moment you went away. I know I didn't like him that much the last few years before he got shot up. Maybe if you didn't have to go, things woulda been a'ight.

"I know, I know, things is a'ight for me now, and I shouldn't be thinkin' about that mess, but I still wonder, knowwhatI'msayin'?"

He hears the footsteps crush the frostbitten grass behind him, but doesn't bother to pay much attention to them until the voice joins in.

"It is difficult to lose loved ones, isn't it?"

Rayquan turns his head toward the figure of a large man now standing beside him, dressed in a heavy black trenchcoat and fedora, which obscures the most of his face.

"Yeah," replies Rayquan.

"Your father?", asks the man.

"Yeah," replies Rayquan, looking back at the tombstone. "He died a few months before I was born. He never got to see me, just my older brother."

"How come your older brother is not here with you?"

"He is," says Rayquan, pointing to LaMont's tombstone.

"My sincerest apologies."

"It's a'ight," replies Rayquan. "LaMont went out like the rest of the gangbangers. After seein' how he was livin' the last couple of years, I don't miss him that much."

"And your father?"

Rayquan sighs. "I dunno. I guess I just miss havin' a father, ya know? I made a promise to him, though, that I wouldn't turn out like LaMont, that I'd do something with myself. I intend to keep that promise, too."

The man nods. "That is a good promise to keep, my friend."

Rayquan turns his head back to the man. "Who'd you lose?"

"An old friend," the man replies, "a woman very near and dear to my heart."

"You love her?"

The man pauses. "In a sense, yes. I have taken up enough of your time, my friend. If you will excuse me."

"Yeah, no prob. Take it easy, mister."

The man wraps his collar more tightly around his neck as he walks back the way he came, stopping for a moment at the grave he visited earlier. He pulls a red rose from inside his trenchcoat and lays it in front of the tombstone.

"Jean Grey, 1956-1980."

END INTERLUDE

------------------------------------------------------------------------

CHAPTER THE THIRD -- A NIGHT ON THE TOWN

Rasha pulls her new long strands of dyed-white hair down in front of her face, admiring her new look in the mirror.

"Faboo," she says with a smirk, tossing the strip of white back with the rest of her jet black curls. "Carol, if you weren't a mutant, I think I'd just kiss you all over."

The woman that Rasha calls Carol is using an alias -- the only one that the former X-Man Rogue could think of on such short notice. More than once, Rogue has found herself running away from her past and praying that her mutant power would no longer haunt her. Being accepted by Rasha here in Key West has helped ease the pain. For now.

"Ah wouldn't worry about it, sugah," she says. "You'll find another girl out there somewhere."

"Maybe we could double-date tonight," Rasha replies. "I'm sure some unsuspecting hetero couple out there wouldn't mind two fun-lovin' gals like us getting them into separate hotel rooms for one night."

Rogue just shakes her head. "You're some piece o' work, Rasha."

"I do what I can," Rasha says as she walks out of the bathroom and into her bedroom, fumbling through the closet for something to wear. "Okay, Carol, you know the routine tonight at The Alcove?"

"Sneak in the back door, look like we know *exactly* what we're doin', carry some chairs out front and take a seat," she replies. "Are ya sure they won't say anythin'?"

"Are you kidding?", Rasha says. "I've done it *dozens* of times and not been told to scoot, as long as I pay for the alcohol. Besides, a lot of tourists drop by The Alcove, not to mention plenty of cute ones. You never know who you might meet."

---

"Where did you pick up this trade, Charles?"

"To be honest, I'm not sure. For some reason, it just seems natural to me."

For those of you keeping score: In the past two months, Charles Xavier Lehnscherr was captured by Apocalypse, snatched from a certain nuclear annihilation in a parallel universe, discovered in front of the Apollo Theater, captured by Sinister, transformed from a toddler into a powerful young mutant in his late teens, and taught how to control his powers by the teachers at the Xavier School for Gifted Youngsters. He has also fallen in deeply love with Monet St. Croix, and he has met, confronted, and travelled to Key West with the doppelganger of his father -- Magneto -- in this universe.

Somehow, in the midst of all this turmoil, the mutant who now calls himself Manchild calmly takes an ordinary pair of scissors and a comb and cuts this doppelganger's long white hair like a pro.

"Perhaps it is a sort of psychic residue," Charles theorizes. "I *have* had skin-to-skin contact with Willie, a barber on 118th Street in Harlem." (-1-)

"Definitely a plausible theory," replies Magneto, sitting on the edge of a bathtub in a run-down motel room somewhere on the island. While all of this was happening to Manchild, Magneto created a safe haven for mutants on the orbiting space station Avalon, fired a magnetic pulse over the globe that killed untold numbers of people, had his memories taken away from him by his closest friend and greatest rival -- Professor Charles Xavier, founder of the X-Men -- was nearly a vegetable when he was jutted from a crumbling Avalon in an escape pod, landed in a mission in Central America as an amnesiac, spent several weeks there seeing the world in a different light, then journeyed north, finding himself in Boston. There he met Manchild and the rest of Generation X, and finally had his memories returned to him by Professor Xavier.

Somehow, while in a vegetative state, his youth was restored, and as he looks in the mirror at his new, short haircut, he sees another image that surprises him.

"Good Lord!", he exclaims. "I look like...Pietro." (-2-)

"You do look good for your age, don't you?", replies Charles.

"Said the genetically-altered toddler from a parallel universe," retorts Magneto with a smirk.

"Touche," Charles returns.

Magneto and Charles quickly change into T-shirts and khakis and leave the motel. "Tell me, father, have you ever seen a Blues performance?"

"Aside from the one you gave today, no," replies Magneto.

"There is supposed to be an excellent show at The Alcove tonight. What say we check it out?"

"What about your mother?"

"We can put off our search for one evening. We've had little chance to relax lately."

"As you wish, Charles."

Charles walks with Magneto down the loosely paved road, watching as groups of people play tamborines and dance along the sidewalk. At that time, his only true love, hundreds of miles away, speaks to him through their psionic rapport.

*You were very courageous today, Charles,* says Monet.

"I did only what I had to do," he thinks in reply. "While we have gotten along well, I had always suspected he might be keeping secrets from me. Relationships cannot survive without trust, Monet. It's why you have not gotten along well with your teammates."

There is no reply. "Monet?"

*I cannot yet tell them about my brothers, Charles,* she says finally. *They could not understand all that has happened in my family.*

"If I could understand, love," replies Charles, "so can they."

*But you have seen all that has happened to me. You know the truth and are fully aware of the circumstances. They will believe what they want to believe, and I expect I would be further ostracized by several of them if I do tell them.*

"No matter how they react, I will always be here to defend you, love."

*Thank you, Charles.*

---

The Alcove is considered one of the best places for a show in Key West. Its thick wooden walls resonate with the sounds of various music groups that play on its well-lit soundstage on the back wall. A bar to the left of the stage runs along the corner of the wall and stops at the front entrance that faces the stage. Tables, chairs, stools, and the dance floor on the right are all strategically-placed so that nobody in the house has a bad seat.

Some nights, patrons get free admission simply by sneaking in the back room and setting up chairs with the rest of the workers. Two such women who call themselves Rasha and Carol are doing just that moments before showtime.

"See?", says Rasha, chair in hand, emerging with Carol from a back entrance between the bar and the stage. "Nothing to it."

"Don't the manager get all upset about losin' money from the front gate?" asks Carol.

"Honey, the manager makes enough money from the alcohol that he don't care," says one of the waiters. "Besides, it's not like we book Hootie & The Blowfish anymore."

"Y'all had Hootie & The Blowfish here?", says a surprised Carol.

"Three times a year for about four years," the waiter replies. "One of the best cover bands we ever had. We got mad when they hit it big, 'cause now we can't afford 'em anymore."

"Need any more help?", asks Rasha.

The waiter snaps his fingers and points at her with mock scorn. "You two sit down now, ya hear me? Not another peep about being productive outta you."

The women laugh as the crowd trickles into the bar behind them. Carol takes in the atmosphere around her, free of almost all her worries for once in her life, oblivious to the faint shadow that lurks to the right of the stage, watching her every move.

"Not yet, Rogue," it says to itself, "but soon, you shall be brought to justice."

---

Magneto and Manchild finally arrive at The Alcove, which is nearly filled to capacity as they walk in the door.

"This looks like an interesting place," says Manchild.

"In a vulgar, hedonistic sort of way," replies Magneto.

"Come on, father," Charles replies. "You promised me that you would keep an open mind about tonight's performance."

"The second-hand smoke is a rather large obstacle to that task."

Without warning, an attractive Haitian woman in a banana-yellow dress tosses a sombrero on Magneto's head.

"What in the name..."

"Ees a gift from me to you, sah," she says. "I made eet today for someone special, and I theenk that eet's you."

"That's really not necessary," Magneto replies, slowly taking it off. The woman takes her hands and holds the sombrero in place.

"No, no, I enseest. You wear hat tonight during show and have good time, okay?"

Magneto sighs. "As you wish, madam."

Charles chuckles. "You know, Magneto Lopez has a certain ring to it," he whispers.

Magneto cocks his brow in reply, only to be distracted by a strange fluctuation in the magnetic fields within the bar.

"Did you feel that?", he asks Charles.

"Feel what?"

Magneto looks around the room, trying to grasp where this disturbance is taking place. "Never mind," he says finally. "Why don't you get a seat up front by the stage?"

"You won't come with me?", asks Charles.

"Do not worry about that. I will join you momentarily."

Charles moves up to the front as Magneto hangs behind, close to the edge of the wall, still feeling strange movements in the magnetic fields within the bar. These movements do not disturb the stage they are near, but at the same time, they seem more than hostile.

"You still have far to go in developing your magnetic abilities, young Charles," he thinks to himself, "if you cannot sense these things I do. Perhaps your sombrero was a blessing in disguise, my Haitian friend. Now nobody will notice the Master of Magnetism among them, seeking out the danger that may await you all..."

He pulls down the brim and concentrates.

---

As Charles takes a seat at a table by the edge of the bar, the sight of a patch of white amidst a sea of dark hair grabs his attention.

"Two banana daquiries, please," she tells the bartender.

Charles freezes. The dark complexion of her skin reminds him that she is not the one he seeks, yet the sight of the woman's hair is enough to make him forget he is staring wide-eyed at her. Rasha looks back at him and waves.

"Hi," says Rasha.

"H-hi," stammers Manchild.

"You okay?"

"Oh...oh, I'm fine. It's just...your hair."

Rasha pulls a chunk of her hair around and lifts it in front of her, accentuating the white streak. "You like?"

"Y-yes. Yes, I do."

Rasha smiles. "Well. It's a damn shame I'm a lesbian, then. You are awful cute." She takes the drinks handed to her and walks back to her seat.

"See ya 'round."

Charles doesn't answer. He watches almost open-mouthed as Rasha walks back to her chair. Focus, Manchild, he thinks to himself. Just relax and enjoy the show.

"Excuse me, sir," he says to an older man at the table next to his.

"Yeah, son?"

"What's a lesbian?"

The man lifts his half-empty beer bottle. "A woman who won't go out with you," he slurringly replies, then takes a swig of his brew and pounds the bottle on the table. "God love 'em all."

---

"Carol, you will not believe this cute young guy who was looking at me over there."

She takes her daquiri from Rasha and looks around the bar. "Where, Rasha?"

"Over there at that last table," replies Rasha, who points him out to her. "If I were even remotely heterosexual, I'd be on him like a frog on a lilly pad."

"He is kinda cute," Carol replies, catching a quick glimpse of Charles sitting at his table.

"You ought to ask him to dance when the show starts."

"Oh, Rasha, he looks way to young for me."

"Please. You don't have more than six or seven years on that guy. Don't be afraid. What's the worst that could happen?"

Carol flashes Rasha a dirty look. "Okay, don't answer that," Rasha replies, "but you shouldn't let it scare you out of meeting someone. You're pretty well covered up here in case his hands start wandering. Besides, he told me he loved my hair."

"Really."

"Mmm-Hm, and if he likes this tangled mess, he'll flip over yours."

Carol looks back at the young man at the table. She knows that love has always eluded here because of her mutant powers. If nothing else, she could take just a few moments for a little fantasy.

"Ladies and gentlemen," begins the emcee on stage, "I bid you welcome, and good evening. And now, The Alcove proudly presents, all the way from Chicago, Illinois to entertain you here in Key West -- The Kinsey Report!" (-3-)

The band takes the stage and immediate launches into a bluesy, uptempo number that pulls all sorts of people on to the dance floor. As he stands in the back, Magneto pays close attention to his would-be son, who snaps his fingers and nods his head with the music. There is something of an art to what they play, Magneto thinks to himself, though I suppose I would still prefer a good Beethoven sonata. Again, he feels a flux in the magnetic field behind the stage, and he concentrates on what lurks there, discovering a heavily armed figure there, using radar sensors and preparing for a tactical strike.

Good, Magneto thinks. I know not who you are after, but I will be ready to defend them.

---

She's moving, the masked figure notes, perhaps to the dance floor eventually. There I can have a clean shot and not worry about injuring anyone else. At least, not severely.

Charles' eyes remain transfixed on the band on stage, at the lead guitarist's gutty, emotional performance. He can almost hear the guitar sing to him, when suddenly, another song hits his ears.

"Hey, sugah."

It is a voice that he remembers only from instinct -- a voice that sang to him, prayed with him, and genuinely wished it could do more for him than it did, though it did more than it ever knew. Now, he hears the voice in a whole new light, and seeing her face for the first time since his world was destroyed makes his whole body freeze in place.

"You kinda caught mah eye as Ah was sittin' over yonder, and Ah was wonderin' if you'd like ta dance."

------------------------------------------------------------------------

CHAPTER THE FOURTH -- TOUCH

She holds out a gloved hand and motions him to the dance floor. To her, he is a total stranger -- just a cute boy on the other side of the bar who looks like he's enjoying himself enough to dance with her. To him, she is the woman who, in another lifetime, would give birth to him. Were it not for the voice of reason in his head, Charles Xavier Lehnscherr might explode.

*Charles...*

"Monet," he thinks, "it's *her*."

*I know, Charles, and remember that she has no idea who you are. Just relax, and I'll help you through the steps.*

Slowly, Charles takes her hand, and they walk together to the floor.

"You don't have to stare, sugah," says Rogue. "Ah'm right here."

"I...I know," Charles replies. "I just can't help myself."

Rogue blushes as they begin dancing, her leading the way, him following through with the help of Monet's voice instructing him as he goes. Meanwhile, toward the back of the building, a man watches them -- the man who in another world was both his father and her husband -- his face hidden by the brim of a large sombrero given to him earlier this evening. He notes their combined grace, thinking back to days past, when he was first attracted to the girl from Caldecott, Mississippi.

"My dear, sweet Rogue," Magneto says to himself, "if you only knew who you were dancing with, you would never be the flirt you always have been."

The song ends, the people applaud, and Magneto slowly feels the magnetic flux he noted earlier behind the stage begin to move. He goes into a deep concentration, noting the position of the figure and its designated target.

"You're in perfect position, Rogue," the slow, deliberate, hidden figure of the X-Cutioner mutters under its breath, "just where I want you. No one will ever know what really hit you."

"Forgive me, Rogue," Magneto says beneath his sombrero, "for tonight, I must spoil your fun in order to save your life."

The band quickly launches into a much slower number as the lead guitarist lets his fingers sing upon the strings. Couples all around them get closer, and Rogue looks at Charles to do the same.

"Whatcha say, sugah?" Charles takes her right hand in his left and pulls her close, the nervousness showing on his face.

"The sky is crying," wails the lead guitarist. "Can't you see the tears fall down the street..." (-1-)

When Charles' mutant powers first manifested themselves, he discovered that he carried in his mind not only his own memories, but the memories of his parents as well. (-2-) As he gazes into Rogue's eyes, a moment from both his parents' memories suddenly pops into his mind. He sees them both together in the woods behind the X-Men's temporary headquarters in New Mexico, gazing into each other's eyes.

"Ah'm confused," Rogue says to the X-Men's leader. "Things have been goin' through mah head...crazy things...and ah just don't know what to do...what to say...what to feel anymore." (-3-)

Just a few inches more, thinks the shadow behind the stage. Just back away from him.

"Rogue, please don't say another word," Magneto says to her, taking off one of his gloves, then taking off one of hers. "Let me show you something. I've thought a great deal about your absorption powers... the way flesh-to-flesh contact triggers your mutant ability...If I could create a bio-magnetic shield around my body...then just perhaps..."

Charles looks even more deeply into Rogue's eyes, slowly and silently creating just such a shield around himself. Rogue sees his look, and she suddenly senses more than just a physical attraction -- perhaps something instead of physical attraction.

Just back away from the boy, thinks the figure. Just back away.

"Take my hand," Magneto says to Rogue. "Trust me."

"I do," Rogue replies. "With all mah heart, believe me...I do."

As that memory crosses his mind, Charles slowly takes his hand from her side and brushes it gently against her chin.

Rogue gasps in fear as he touches her. Her eyes then grow wide in shock when she doesn't feel herself absorbing his memories. She feels the hand against her face, brushing it back and forth slowly and deliberately. Finally, she takes his hand in hers, slowly pushing it away from her and taking two steps back from him, feeling the droplets coming from her eyes. Her voice cracks.

"Who are you?", she asks him.

The figure smiles beneath his mask. Now.

The firing of a laser cannon turns everyone's attention toward the corner of the room closest to the dance floor. Rogue watches in a split second as the laser beam flies toward her, then is suddenly deflected by a bright magnetic wall placed in front of her. It is deflected off of two other magnetic walls, then deposited harmlessly out an open window and into the ground.

"NO!", shouts the X-Cutioner. "You're supposed to be DEAD!"

"Is that so, assassin?", Magneto replies as he floats in the air above the crowd, waves of magnetic energy surrounding him, deflecting all shots fired at him by the X-Cutioner harmlessly out of the building.

"Erik!!!", shouts Rogue, "What in the hell do you think you're doing!?"

"If you will indulge me, my friend," he replies, "I'm trying to save your life!" He carefully bends and twists the magnetic fields around him to prevent the laser beams from touching anyone in the crowd.

"Interesting, Magneto," shouts the X-Cutioner. "I didn't think you would care so much about saving *humans* from harm."

"Then perhaps the Magneto you remember *is* dead, for I have seen evils of humanity far worse than you, sir, and I refuse to lower myself to that level!"

Rogue feels a strong tug on her arm, and turns to see Charles in front of her.

"I'm sorry, mother. It wasn't supposed to happen like this."

Rogue freezes at his words. "Mother?", she thinks, "My God...he called me..."

She flies into the air and out the front entrance of The Alcove, Charles watching her escape. "No! Wait!"

"You'd be better off staying here, kid," Rasha says to him. "I'll go after her -- and I wanna find out what you said to her, too."

As Rasha pushes through the crowd to find her friend, Charles turns in rage toward the X-Cutioner, who immediately senses the boy's anger and fires at him. Manchild winces. Then he recovers.

"What the..."

That is all he can think before Manchild flies into him, pushes him through a wall and drops him hard against a tree. The dazed X- Cutioner suddenly notices his instruments go bezerk.

"Good Lord, this kid's bio-signature is out of control!", he mutters. "Traces of Magneto...Rogue is here...the St. Croix family... even hints of...SINISTER???"

Manchild wraps a hand around the man's neck and lifts him off the ground. "Those hints are SCARS, you fool -- scars of what that animal has done to me, taking away my childhood, my innocence, my dreams of a normal life. It is only for the love of others that I survive today and lead as normal a life as possible for a mutant in a prejudiced world. Garbage like you doesn't make it any easier."

The X-Cutioner raises a forearm to Manchild's elbow to try and break free. Manchild does not budge an inch, except to tighten his grip around the man's neck, making him struggle to breathe.

"You will tell me now, assassin," says Manchild. "WHY DID YOU ATTEMPT TO MURDER MY MOTHER!?!??"

Waves of magnetic energy separate Manchilid from the X-Cutioner, and Magneto pulls the boy toward him, holding him back with one arm. "No, son," he says. "This man is not worth it."

"Son?", thinks the panic-stricken X-Cutioner. "Good Lord, I wasn't prepared for this..." He taps a few buttons on his wrist and disappears in a flash of light.

"We should have stopped him," says an angry, hyperventilating Manchild.

"Perhaps," replies Magneto, "but unlike this man, we are not murderers, son. We have no right to determine who lives or dies in this world." A hint of regret resonates in his voice. "A good woman taught me that only weeks ago, before I regained my memories. I only wish I could have learned that lesson so much sooner." (-4-)

---

90 miles north of Cuba, Rogue sits on the edge of a pier and sobs, her head buried in her hands. She remains at a loss for what to make of the last hour's events. Why did she let her guard down so close to the X-Cutioner? Why did Erik come back to save her, and why was he keeping everyone in the club from harm? More importantly, though, who was that boy, the one that touched her like...like Erik did? The one that said she was his mother?

The one that had eyes like *her* mother's?

"Wanna talk about it?"

Rasha knew her friend would be here. She also knew her friend would want a few moments alone. That didn't matter. She *needed* to talk.

"Just leave me alone, Rasha," says Rogue. "I'm more trouble than you know."

"Funny," Rasha replies. "I always thought the same thing about myself."

She sits next to Rogue on the pier, trying not to be serious. She never liked being too serious. "You know you never told me you could fly," says Rasha. "How come?"

"Because Ah'm tired," Rogue replies, "tired of being a mutant, tired of living with this every single day of mah life. Ah just wish this would go away."

"Why?", asks Rasha. "I mean, I can understand not wanting to put everyone you touch in a coma, but what about all the other stuff? I've always wished I could fly like tha--"

"Don't, Rasha. Don't ever wish for that. The only thing it ever brings you is pain. Too many of mah friends have suffered more than you could ever imagine, simply because they were mutants. This world hates us, Rasha -- hates us because we ain't like the rest of 'em. They'd rather see us wiped off the face of this planet than try to accept us."

Her voice begins to wander off. "Sometimes Ah wonder if it's worth it to keep goin'."

"Baht your tongue, sugah," replies Rasha, imitating her friend's Southern drawl. "Life is never worth giving up, period. You'll never know what could happen if you end it all. Say, you're a sports fan, and you kill yourself the year before the Cubs win it all. Wouldn't you be pissed off that you missed it?"

Rogue sighs, her eyes looking out into the star-filled night.

"It's worth it not to give up, girl," says Rasha. "There's more than just the hard parts."

"Your friend is right, Rogue."

She hears his familiar voice, the slightest touch of a German accent still clear to her ears. Turning to see him standing there, she sees a man looking younger than the one she knew, casually dressed in a plain tan shirt and slacks, reaching out a hand to her in friendship, just as he has done before.

"Clearly, there are...moments of joy," Magneto says, "that will always make our lives worth living."

All at once, it comes out of her.

"YOU BASTARD!!"

She flies at his chest with a force that would presumably shake the earth on which he stands. Yet he holds his ground, for her sake, for she does not realize what she has meant to him -- what she still means to him today. She was the voice of reason that he did not heed, the voice of compassion and conviction he ignored, and now, as her banging fists against his shoulders disintegrates into her weeping in his arms, he needs her now more than ever.

"Why did you come back, Erik?", she says to him, her voice breaking every so often. "After all that has happened, why? Why here? Why now?"

"There is so much I could tell you, Rogue," Magneto replies, "yet it is hard for me to find a place to start."

"Rogue?" Rasha's voice catches them both by surprise. "You mean your name isn't Carol, either?"

"Do not blame her for this, madam," Magneto replies. "I assure you she and I both would have reasons to hide our true identities."

"Well, with you, I'm not surprised, but..."

"Rasha, please," demands Rogue.

"Gee, sorry," Rasha replies. "I'll just be part of the scenery over here. Forget I'm around."

As Rasha steps away from them, Rogue looks into the eyes of the man that saved her life, genuinely surprised by what she sees there.

"Erik," she says, "what happened to you?"

Magneto releases his embrace and takes a few steps away from her. "I remember nothing of the time beyond that moment upon Avalon," he begins, "when my friend, my enemy, Charles Xavier took my memories away from me. Perhaps you know more of those later events than I do."

"Not as much as you think, Erik," she says. "Ah left the X-Men a while ago."

"I know", he answers, "yet I don't understand. You of all people had such faith in his dream."

"It wasn't the dream that drove me away," she answers. "It was the nightmares I've had since that night...that night I thought the world had ended."

"Tell me," says Magneto, turning back to her. "Tell me what happened."

Rogue sighs. She was hoping to escape these memories. "Wasn't too long after you were...taken away from us...that the Professor's son somehow went back in time. Turned out that he wanted to kill you then, so that you wouldn't have affected his daddy's X-Men now. The Shi'ar came down and told us that because of that, our universe was bein' destroyed." (-5-)

Rogue tries to maintain her composure. "Somehow, he succeeded, because we could see this M'Kraan wave comin' at us. Ah thought it was over. Ah looked back at Remy, and Ah...Ah..."

"You kissed him." Magneto completes the sentence for her. "I cannot blame you. Were I you, I would have done the same."

"Ah wouldn't have, Erik," she retorts. "Somehow, everything went back to normal, and what Ah saw in his memories..." Rogue pauses to catch her breath. "Whatever happened that night, it drove me away from him and from the X-Men, and Ah won't go back. Not until he's gone."

"Rogue," says Magneto, "you have no idea what really happened that night. The world became a different place that night -- for you, for me, for all of us -- a dark, Apocalyptic nightmare that never survived its own existence. But out of that darkness, one light survived, one shining light that is guiding me back to a path I should have followed long ago."

He motions out to the trees, and young Charles emerges from them, walking forward slowly and with trepidation at the sight of his parents together before him. He has dreamed of this moment since his world was destroyed. Now, he wonders how he be able to present himself in front of these strangers to him.

"This manchild you see before you, Rogue," says Magneto, "in that cold, dark world, was my son. He was *our* son."

Rogue gasps. "Our son?", she says softly. "Lord, have mercy...how is that possible?"

"Tonight...when I touched you," Charles says, "the biomagnetic field I used to protect myself was the same as the one...my father used, allowing him to touch my mother."

Rogue looks between the two, shocked at their story, but even more stunned at their resemblance. "B-but...that's impossible," Rogue stammers.

"I swear to you it's not," Charles continues. "My parents' memories are ingrained in my mind as part of my own mutant heritage." He looks into her eyes, trying his best to project sympathy for her. "I know about Cody, about Mystique, about things that you have never told anyone..."

Rogue turns her head away in shame. "What have you told him, Erik?", she says. "Why are you doing this to me?"

"It is what he has told me, Rogue," he says, explaining the few events that he remembers after his mind was taken away from him -- the small Christian mission in Central America, the fear in the children's eyes after his gruesome rescue attempt there, his travels since leaving that place, which led him to Boston, his first encounter with Manchild, and the return of his original memories.

"The lessons I have learned are hard ones," he says. "I had always believed my place in destiny had been secure -- that I would safeguard my fellow mutants from the world no matter what the cost in human life, immune to the fact that my actions would never make up for Anya's death, nor all the slaughter I have seen in my life. You tried to teach me as much a long time ago, when I held Zaladane's life in my hands."

"Ah tried to stop you," says Rogue. (-6-)

"Yes," Magneto continues, "and had I known then what I know now, you may have succeeded, but I was a harsh, stubborn man who refused to see another way, a way never shown to him in this world. My brief time in Central America, combined with my time with young Charles, has shown me this."

"You want me to believe you've changed, Erik," Rogue says, "but you're the same man with the same memories as before. What could this strange boy who claims to be our son have to do with any of this?"

Charles shudders at her words. She sees the boy's reaction and begins to wonder if he is telling the truth after all. "Take my hand, if you don't believe me," says Charles. "I would give my life to show you--"

"No, Charles," interrupts Magneto. "Please, give us a moment alone."

Charles looks back at Rogue, his eyes begging her to believe he speaks the truth. For an instant, she thinks that she sees. He turns away to give them some privacy.

"If you only knew, Rogue," Magneto says. "If you could only have seen this world through a new and different pair of eyes like I have, then maybe you would know. I know better than anyone the man I was, but young Charles has shown me the man I could have been, and that has led me to question everything I have done -- nay, everything I am -- in the course of my life.

"The voices of the dead once cried out for vengeance against their oppressors, vengeance which would bring nothing but more war, more deaths, more bloodshed. Now, those same voices are crying out for peace, to let the dead bury the dead, as a man once said. They brought me back to you, Rogue. You saw something in me a long time ago that I refused to see in myself. I need you to help me find that again, for my sake, for Charles' sake, for little Roberto's sake, perhaps for the sake of the world. Will you help me?"

She has tried before. Many times she has wanted to change this man holding out his hand to her, prevent his self-destruction. Now, the tables have turned, and now she is the one searching for a reason.

"Ah want to believe you, Erik," she says finally. "Ah want to believe you really do want to turn your life around, but part of me still thinks you're the same arrogant devil you've always been. The fact that you came here like this to find me only proves that I'm right about that, and that there's somethin' else you're here for."

She looks back at Charles. "The boy looks like he's tryin', though, so he must think you're still worth somethin' in this world, God only knows what."

Finally, she looks up at Magneto. "And you saved mah life tonight, too, on top o' everything else. Ah guess Ah owe it to ya to try an' save yours again."

And she takes off her gloves and takes his hand. There is no siphoning of memories and powers. There is no bitterness over the deadly endings of the past.

"But so help me, Erik, if you're lyin'..."

"You needn't fear that, Rogue. I swear to you that all these things are true, and I deserve whatever punishment I receive if they are not."

There is only the two of them, coming together once more underneath the clear ocean sky.

"They do make a cute couple, huh?", Rasha whispers to Charles. He pays little attention, watching the moment that they come together, two lost souls finding each other again along the way. In that moment, he wants to jump into the air and never come down. Against all odds, his family is together again. It is a moment Charles will never forget.

It is a moment that ends too soon.

*Charles...help me...*

Her voice cries out in silent fear. "What...what is it?"

*He's here...oh, God, not now...please...*

"Who, love? Tell me."

*...my brother.*

His eyes shut, fists clench, lips purse. The couple that would be his parents is no longer there. All he knows is that he was a fool to leave her. He was a fool. "No...Monet..."

"Charles," says Magneto, hearing Charles as he speaks aloud, "is everything okay?"

"Monet..." Charles' whispers turn to shouts. "Monet!"

The master of magnetism is all but forgotten as Charles takes off without warning into the night sky.

"Where's he goin', Erik?", asks Rogue.

"Where he is needed," replies Magneto, "where we are needed. Someone is in trouble, and we must help them."

As Charles bullets through the air, he prays he has not made the greatest mistake of his life.

"MONET!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

------------------------------------------------------------------------

CHAPTER THE FIFTH -- RETURN OF THE UNHOLY ONE

There is a shadow lurking in the woods of the Xavier School for Gifted Youngsters. Years of practice have helped this shadow fade into the darkness behind potentially explosive scenes -- scenes like the one unfolding before its eyes.

There are seven of them, five students and two teachers, wrapped in thick strips of leather and hanging by their feet from the long, barren branches of these oak trees. Another lies at the feet of a woman in a wheelchair, his body encased in some sort of metallic device. One more is being held in place off to the side by a villain's assistant.

The shadow pays close attention to this villain, the long grey spikes that make up his hair, the long, sharp claws of his hands, the blue smock that covers his breathing apparatus.

"No!", shouts the girl being held off to the side. "I can't believe you would do this!"

"Did you think I would not piece this puzzle together, little sister?", replies the villain, his voice raspy and grating. "Did you not think I was capable of finding you and and your friends and bringing them together for this great feast?"

The villain is her brother. The shadow is intrigued.

"It is a shame I did not arrive here sooner," the villian continues. "I would have loved to meet some of the friends you made. I was most intrigued by that captivating redhead..." (-1-)

"You dumbass!", shouts Jubilee. "She wasn't even a real mutant! You woulda gone hungry!"

"As if that matters now," replies the villian. "I have already dined on two of your friends here. In doing so, I have gained Husk's skin-shedding ability, as well as the diamond-like hardness of this girl you so quaintly call 'Penance.'"

"Oh, well isn't that a perfect combination?", retorts Jubilee. "How are you gonna shed that diamond-hard skin of yours, anyway?"

This shadow has friends. He could easily dial those friends' cellular phone numbers and bring them here to take care of this creature. Instead, he waits, letting the scene play out before him, looking for any clues that would allow him to help the others.

"Listen to me, brother!", shouts M. "You have to understand -- what happened to mother was NOT your fault! Nobody blames you for it."

"That doesn't matter now," says the villian. "What has happened has happened, and there is nothing left but the guilt, the shame...and the hunger."

He reaches his hand down to touch the student encased in metal. The shadow notes the sharp teeth and tongue upon the villain's hand.

"Hands off, Emplate!", shouts the girl in the wheelchair. "You said Jonothan was for me."

Emplate. The shadow has heard that name before, and the story behind his first meeting with these students. That was all he needed to hear.

Upon this shadow's hand is a ring, a cut stone of pure onyx set upon a silver face -- a present from a close friend of his. He lifts the ring to his face, silently sliding the onyx stone to the side, revealing a small white pill, which he pops into his mouth and carefully swallows.

"Uh, Sir," says the assistant, "it appears your sister has escaped my grasp. Will you want to punish me now?"

This shadow has friends, but he won't be needing them. As he walks silently back through the woods, he cannot hide the grin that stretches across his face.

---

M flies toward a computer lab, looking for a way to call for help. "Charles, where are you?"

*I am coming, love. I swear it.*

"I am going to contact the X-Men. I have to find a way to let them know what is happening. I need your help." Monet pulls network cards out of their sockets and looks for ways to connect the wires.

*What can I do?*

"Stay with me. I fear I will lapse into a catatonic state if I concentrate too hard on the task at hand."

The wall collapsing directly behind her does not give her the chance to try. She falls to the ground, covered with dust and debris, but otherwise unharmed. A large, muscular man with leather straps around his face and chest stares down at her, a large mortar brick in his hand.

"Who are you?", says M.

"Call me Bulwark," he replies with a think, German accent. "I work for Emplate, and I come for you to take you down."

"Big words for a big man, honey."

The southern drawl doesn't faze him as much as the touch of her hand on his shoulder. Before he realizes it, Bulwark is once again the hundred-pound weakling he had always been before his mutant powers developed. Now, bewildered by the sudden change in his body, he stares up in fear at the woman who just took his strength away.

"Now Ah got your mass in me," Rogue continues, "and Ah can convert it into raw energy. Want it back?"

"B-b-bitte?"

He is lucky to go unconscious as she hits him. All the better for Bulwark not to feel himself fly through the back wall of the lab and land tangled into the limbs of a weeping willow.

"That's for messin' with mah son's friends, you bastard." (-2-)

---

"Ya wanna hear somethin' amazing, Emplate?", says Jubilee.

"What is that, girl?"

"As big a loser as you are, as stupid as you are, and as dumb a mutant power as you got, I still don't hate you as much as your sister."

"Ignore her, sir," says Emplate's lackey as he squats in front of Jubilee. "She is merely trying to goad you into acting rashly."

"I am sure of it," replies Emplate, turning his back toward both, "and yet...it seems to be working."

A light breeze flows through the clearing.

"HRRK..."

And with it, the lackey disappears.

"Huh?", says Emplate. "What just happened here? Where is D.O.A.?"

"*tsk* Van Damme."

And the shadow emerges from the darkness.

"I can-NOT be-LIEVE that y'all let yourself get tied up in a tree by the UGLIEST nigga I've ever seen."

"Nice to see you, too, Rayquan," says Husk.

"Geez, why'd you have to show up?", says Jubilee. "I had a plan here."

"Sounded to me like you had a death wish, girl," he replies.

"Well, well," says Emplate. "Looks like I'll get to meet one of your new friends after all."

"Damn straight, baby," he replies. "Bet you were wonderin' when I'd show up, huh?"

"Indeed," replies Emplate, "I had thought that by not going to Boston with your classmates, you had symbolically decided to rejoin your former team. Nevertheless, this miscalculation will not change the final outcome..." (-3-)

Emplate reaches his hand out toward Jubilee. "Death!"

He does not get a chance to touch her. In the blink of an eye, he is slammed to the ground, and finds himself looking up at his new nemesis.

"I don't think so," Rayquan says. "'cause you're on my home court now, and there ain't no question..."

He runs up to Emplate, picks him up, punches him in the cheek, then, before Emplate falls, he slams him in the back with his shoulder.

"...It's time for the Perkolater!"

---

"Why did you do that!?"

Rogue expected M to be a little more grateful.

"Ah thought you could use a little help, Monet," she replies.

"Don't you know that these mutants are not in control of themselves?", yells M. "My brother has enthralled them to the extent that they cannot act on their own accord! We cannot let them be harmed!"

"Perhaps Monet has a point," says Magneto, now standing behind Rogue. "If these youngsters are only tools of Emplate, they should be protected while we deal with the toolmaker."

"Since when did *you* become such a pacifist?", says Rogue. "You saw what he was gonna do to her."

"And I'm positive a young woman of her power could have handled him just fine," Magneto replies, nodding briefly at Monet. "You of all people should know that my objective has always been to safeguard mutants from harm, especially in these situations."

"Regardless," says Monet, "we need to find out how many others may be under Emplate's control."

"You're about to find out, sweetie."

The purple mist that suddenly shrouds the room takes everyone by surprise. It slowly condenses and pushes itself into its victim. Unfortunately for this mist, it selects the wrong victim.

"HRRRKKKK!", Rogue shouts, falling to her knees and struggling to breathe, then suddenly feeling another's memories enter her mind.

"Concentrate, Rogue!", says Magneto. "The mist is sentient. Your power can help you expel it from your system."

"Nooooooo!" They all barely hear the voice fade as Rogue regurgitates huge gulps of purple fluid through her mouth and nose. Droplets of this liquid continue to fall from her mouth as she crumbles in a heap on the floor.

"Rogue," says Monet, rushing to her aid, "are you okay?"

"No, daddy," she murmurs. "Please don't hit me. I won't see her again. I promise. Wha...what's happening to me? Daddy, no..."

Monet listens closely to her words, looks upon the purple liquid beading on the floor and on the tables, and suddenly realizes her loss.

"No," she whispers, "Vicente..." (-4-)

She runs her hand through the puddles surrounding her, looking for some sign of her brother, whom she once thought to be dead.

"Vicente?", she says desperately, over and over until she finds erself slamming the puddles with her fist. "VICENTE!!!"

"Let go, Monet," says Magneto, struggling to pull her away from the wet floor. "Get a hold of yourself."

M pushes Magneto away forcefully, yet Magneto recovers quickly. Then, realizing what she has just done, she falls to her knees, ready to burst into tears at any moment at the sight of the liquid in front of her. "No...my brother..."

"Ah'm so sorry, sugah," says Rogue.

M takes several deep breaths to regain her composure. "Do not blame yourself, Rogue," she says finally. "There is only one to blame for this heinous act."

And in her mind, she turns to the one friend that can understand what has happened.

"Charles," she whispers.

*I'm here, Monet,* he replies psionically, *and I know already what to do.*

"Do it quickly," she replies. "I may not be able to contain myself."

---

Emplate jumps up to counter-attack, only to feel himself be tackled hard from behind.

"Yo, it's like this, gafugly," Perkolater continues, now lying casually on his stomach, propping his head up with his arms, looking straight into Emplate's eyes. "The rest of the crew here told me about you. Point blank, I'm too fast for you. No matter what happens, there ain't no way you gon' catch up to me."

Emplate slashes at him. Perkolater gets up and kicks him in the side before the claws come close. "You can't use my power against me, either," he continues, "because it's not a projectile power, which is all you could throw back at me, anyway."

Anger runs hot through Emplate's veins as he quickly rises to attack Perkolater, only to find himself slashing at thin air. "And even if you COULD use my power against me, you couldn't do it," says Perkolater, now standing behind Emplate, "because you need fuel to use it. I'm runnin' way up on full..."

He bodyslams Emplate to the ground and stands over him.

"...and you empty as a junkie's pockets."

Perkolater's right foot stomps Emplate in the stomach -- this time in real time, so that everyone can see it.

"Christian Laettner," he says to no one in particular, "eat your heart out."

Suddenly, a third voice emerges. "Well, looks like everyone forgot about me."

Again, Perkolater uses his ability to slow down time around him, turning to see a mummy-like creature covered with sharp-toothed mouths jumping at him head first. He is called Murmur now, and if he could see what he has become, he could never live with himself again. (-5-) Regardless, as soon as he enters the fray, he exits, as Perkolater steps out of his path, grabs his leg and swings him toward the tree, where he falls unconscious.

"Next," says Perkolater.

Emplate groans as he rolls over onto his stomach and tries to rise to his feet. He can only get to his knees when an image brighter than the moon suddenly appears in front him, shaking the monster to its soul.

"No," it whispers. "It can't be..."

"I always believed you were good at heart, son," the familiar white outlines before him say. "I never blamed you for my death, and no matter what happens, I will always love you."

"Mother?", Emplate whispers, his eyes visibly frightened, his hand trying to reach out and touch the image.

"But why, son?", the image asks him. "Why did you hurt Vicente? He has suffered enough at the hands of your father. Why?"

"I...I didn't mean..."

The fists against his back prevent him from finishing his sentence, and suddenly, he looks up to meet the angry eyes of his little sister.

"I had forgiven you, too, brother," she says. "I believed that what happened had happened for a reason and learned to move on. For Vicente, however, I cannot -- I *will* not -- forgive. You were once my brother, but now, that is no more."

"Perhaps, Monet," Emplate replies, "but in case you hadn't noticed, you pushed me right into your friend's magnetic field."

Monet's eyes widen at his revelation.

"And you've just given me a taste of his power!"

He raises his hand and fires a bolt of magnetic energy directly at her. He does not even notice her being pushed out of the way until he sees the bolt crash into a tree in the distance, loosening a branch from the trunk.

"And YOU just wasted it," says Perkolater, his arms around M's waist.

Magnetized knives slowly float toward the students and teachers hanging from branches, cutting them free from their bonds. Slowly they all surround Emplate and prepare themselves for battle.

"It appears you have won the day on this field, Monet," Emplate says, his body slowly fading, "but it shall be a pyrrhic victory, for upon another field, your missing classmate fights my fight for me."

His eyes turn toward Perkolater. "Against YOUR friends."

With that, Emplate disappears before everyone's eyes.

"Ye've done well, Rayquan," says Banshee. "Ye're a much quicker study than I gave ye credit for."

"Don't congratulate me yet, Bansh," Perkolater replies. "The game ain't over."

"He's right. There is one more battle to face."

Monet immediately spins toward the voice above her. She would never let on to anyone else how much she truly longed to hear his voice again, to see his face again, to be able to look into his eyes, touch his hands, kiss his lips, and see the child still alive inside the growing man. Monet St. Croix would have waited lifetimes for him to return. Harsh circumstance has made it much sooner, and she doesn't know whether to bless those fates, or to curse them.

She reaches out a hand to touch Manchild's face. His hand grabs her covered forearm to stop her.

"Not yet, Monet," he says to her softly. "There will be time for us soon, I promise."

"'Tis a joy t'see ye again, Charles," says Banshee. "If only it were a happier occasion..."

"I understand, Mr. Cassidy," says Manchild. "I spent so much time looking for my biological family here on this earth, that I never realized how much this family meant to me."

"Your tuggin' at my heartstrings, amigo," says Skin.

"Save the sentimentality for later," says Emma Frost. "We have to get to Harlem."

"Harlem?", says a perplexed Mondo.

"It don't take a genius to figure it out, kid," says Perkolater. "Emplate said somethin' about a missin' teammate fightin' my friends. We all know who ain't here, and at least two of us know which friends he's talkin' about. So I don't know about y'all, but I'm all caffed up and headed back to Bucktown. Who's wit' me?"

"We're with ya, sugah." Magneto and Rogue walk out of the darkness into the clearing, where they are met by the students of Generation X with looks of astonishment, disbelief...and pride in their fellow teammate.

"Charles," says Jubilee, "you're really somethin' else."

"I could have told you that," replies M.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

CHAPTER THE SIXTH -- OPENING THE FLOODGATES

His name is Ahmad Parker. He is black. He is a mutant. Some would consider that two strikes against him. Ahmad Parker is also a fighter, one who has made one predominantly black New York City neighborhood after another treat him not as an outcast, but as a leader and a hero.

His codename is Aqua, which fits him well. He can shoot streams of water from his hands, sometimes at pressures higher than fire trucks. He figured that when one of the students he met at the Xavier School for Gifted Youngsters came around his block looking for a fight, he would be up to the challenge.

Everett Thomas, a/k/a Synch, is not your average student. When his mutagenic aura touches another mutant, he assumes that mutant's power. In fact, he can use that power in ways its owner never thought possible. At the moment, his aura is touching Aqua. This is bad.

He is also under the enthralling influence of Emplate. This is worse.

"What's gotten into you, kid?", shouts Aqua, feeling the brunt of his own power pushing his stomach against a stone wall in this alley. "I thought we were in the same gang here."

Aqua fires bullet-like spurts of water from his fists. Synch somehow gets them to freeze in mid-air in front of him.

"Damn," says a surprised Aqua, who ducks the ball of water fired back at him.

"It's funny, Aqua," says Synch, his eyes glazed over from his enthralling. "I've always wondered what sort of things you could do if you had more formal training in your powers."

Flood gates seem to open up all over Synch's body as he approaches Aqua. A tooth-laden mouth opens wide on Synch's hand. "How ironic is it that you learned just how much you could do just before you lost your ability to do it?"

He hears the glass shatter behind him. It is enough distraction for Synch to turn away from Aqua and see the source of the noise.

Her name is Monica Chavis, or Image, if you will. She is Ahmad's fiance, and co-leader of the recently-depleted Reclamation Squad. (-1-) Her mutant power allows her to project realistic-looking holograms with her hands. It is more useful in a battle than it sounds.

"You gots ta step off, Synch," Image says as she wields a broken glass bottle in her hand. "We're not your enemy here."

"No, you don't understand," he replies, firing more liquid sprays at her. He is momentarily suprised to see the water flow through her body. The hologram disappears. Aqua smiles proudly.

"Over here, Synch," shouts Image again, walking up to him from the side. "Or maybe over there."

She points behind him, and Synch looks around. He finds himself surrounded by five separate Images, and he wonders which ones are holograms and which one is real.

"You're a smarter kid than this, Everett," Image says. "We don't know what's gotten into or why it's coming after us, but we know you're more than capable of fighting it, rather than us."

Synch bows his head, partly in shame, partly in anger, partly to borrow Aqua's power to shoot water from his feet so powerful it blasts him into the sky.

"Good God almighty," thinks Aqua. "How did he come up with that? Am I really capable of some of this stuff he's doing?"

The geyser projects him up toward the top level of the fire escape, where he finds the real Image standing on the platform. "I know I was smart enough to figure out that the real Image needed to use her hands to project those holograms," Synch says to her, "and that you could only project yourself surrounding me by standing above me."

He holds out his hand toward her, its teeth biting mercilessly. "I don't want to do this, Monica, but...I have to."

"Like hell you do," she says, raising her arm. An angry pit bull jumps off the ceiling right above her. It barks wildly, froths at the mouth, and heads straight for Synch.

"Naaaaa!!" He throws up his hands and loses his balance, falling three stories until he finally shoots water from his hands near the pavement, allowing him to slow his fall and land on his feet.

"Not bad," says Aqua. "Maybe you can teach me how to do that one day."

Synch charges Aqua, blocking all of Aqua's water blasts along the way. Just before Synch collides with him, however, Aqua is lifted from the ground and rises toward the ceiling. Synch's momentum carries him into a pile of garbage.

"Come with me," a voice says to Aqua, "quickly."

Aqua turns to see an all-too familiar face standing behind him. It is a face that angers him more than anything else. It is Magneto's face.

"YOU!", he shouts, making fists with his hands.

"No, Uncle Aq," says Manchild, flying up behind him. "We have to get out of here."

"Little Man," Aqua says to Manchild. "What's going on here?"

"I'll explain later," he replies. "Let's just go!"

They all see the rainbow rising toward them, and they quickly scurry through the air out of its way. Synch growls in frustration, then uses his remaining water powers borrowed from Aqua and lifts himself up to the roof of the building. There he finds Magneto, Rogue, Manchild, M, Aqua and Image spread out along the edges of the roof.

"You all realize," he says to them, "that if I synch with any or all of you here, that somebody will die tonight."

"The fuck they will!"

Synch did not see him on the roof. He barely sees him as he tackles him with such incredible speed and force that together, they fall off the edge of the building.

"Perk!", shouts Aqua. "No!"

"Hang on," says Rogue, "I'll get 'em."

"No, Rogue," says M, stopping her in mid-flight. "If Everett synchs with you, he could kill Rayquan."

"But they're both gonna die now!", Rogue replies in disbelief.

"No, they won't!", shouts M.

---

"You better hope this works, muthafucker," shouts Perkolater. Synch cannot hear him over his own shouts, as he falls out of control toward the soaked pavement. He feels his own body jerk wildly, then suddenly, there is silence, and he finds himself lying quietly on his back in the alley.

Alive.

"Wha...What the...", he stammers as he blinks his eyes and moves his limbs to make sure everything is still intact. "I'm...I'm not dead..."

"No, Ev," says Perkolater, "you're not dead."

Synch looks to see his teammate and friend standing several yards away from him, his face covered with a frown. "Perk...How did you..."

"I let my power kick in before we hit the ground," Perkolater replies as he walks toward Synch. "That slowed you down enough to let me jump off you without hurting my self. I broke your fall after that so you wouldn't get hurt. Chuck's girl says I violate a lot of physics laws when I do that, but I've always believed unjust laws were meant to be broken."

Synch rolls over to his side and takes a deep breath to try and calm himself down. He has roomed with Perkolater for weeks, yet he has never heard his roommate speak in such a cold, bitter, almost venomous tone. The rainbow effect of Synch's aura slowly grows around him.

"Don't try to synch wit' me, Ev," Perkolater continues. "You ain't got the caffeine in your system to fight me. I kicked Emplate's ass tonight without breaking a sweat, and I could do the same to you if I wanted."

"I've...I've never seen you like this," Synch gasps. "What happened to you?"

Perkolater gets down on one knee beside Synch. "What happened, Ev," he says, "is that I've already lost one older brother to the dark side, and I'm not gonna lose you, too."

Synch looks up at Perkolater's cold, angry eyes, noticing his clenched fists just below that stare. That's when another shadow emerges from the darkness.

"Everett," says the familiar voice, "lad."

Banshee squats next to Perkolater. "Ye're givin' us a monumental scare by behavin' like this," he says to Synch, "lettin' Emplate control who ye are and what ye are like this. Ye told me once that ye wanted t'make a difference in this world, ye wanted t'be somebody important, somebody people could look up to. That'll never happen if ye don't gain some control over yeself. But more importantly, lad, I promised yuir parents that I would look after ye, make sure ye were safe from danger.

"Don't ye dare make liars o' the both of us like this."

Synch looks down at his hands, seeing the last lingering effects of Emplate's influence upon them, and he rolls over onto his back, burying his head in those hands and breaking down in tears. His anguished cry is heard all throughout the borough.

---

"Is he gonna be all right?", asks Rogue.

"He'll be fine," says Monet. "Everett is a strong young man. He could probably withstand worse than this."

"I'm sure he wouldn't want to, though," says Monica.

Three couples wind down in Ahmad and Monica's small brownstone apartment, everyone else having gone back to Xavier's to attend to Everett. All but one can relax. Ahmad, his arms folded, leans against the wall by the window and looks outside, watching the police cars crawl along the street, their red and blue lights flashing for all to see.

"Uncle Aq?", says Charles, walking up to the window. "You haven't said a word all night. Is something wrong?"

Ahmad doesn't move. "It's taken me some time, Little Man," he says, "to come to grips with certain things in this world."

"Ahmad," Monica interrupts, "don't."

"Why not?", he replies, turning back to her. "It's gonna come out eventually. I knew once Little Man found his parents, he would bring them to meet us. We might as well get it over with."

Magneto and Rogue sit next to Image on the couch. They look puzzled at Ahmad. "Is something wrong, Mr. Parker?", asks Magneto.

"Yes," Ahmad replies. "The night you blacked out the world, shorted out anything electrical on the whole planet. You remember, right?" (-2-)

"Unfortunately, I do," Magneto replies. "That does not mean I am proud of--"

"My dad died that night."

Everyone in the room recoils slightly, except for Monica, who simply closes her eyes and shakes her head.

"He was fixing a refrigerator upstairs that night," Ahmad continues, "making a late call to one of the tenants. That's when a power surge came between him and the electrical outlet, and his heart stopped. We tried to give him CPR, but that didn't work, and with the phones shorted out, we couldn't call 911. They couldn't have done any more, anyway, since their paddles probably weren't working."

Ahmad looks back out the window again. "I invited you in here because, one, there's no sense in trying to fight the master of magnetism with a water gun, and two, cosmic accident or not, you're Little Man's father, and I owe it to him to keep a level head about all this. That's not easy to do, though, knowing that the man responsible for my dad's death is sitting on my couch."

"Ahmad," Monica says, "look, we've--"

"No, Miss Chavis," interrupts Magneto who stands up and walks calmly toward Ahmad. "I will not try to insult you by justifying any of my actions that night, nor trying to explain to you any reasons I did what I did. All I can do at this point is ask you if, some time down the road, you can forgive me for what I have done."

Ahmad looks back at Magneto, unsure as to whether he approves of such noble words from such an ignoble man.

"Maybe," he says. "I suppose in some way, it was because of you that Little Man came into our lives." He looks over at Charles. "He's done a lot for us, you know, helpin' us stay strong and all. He was here when we went public with the Reclamation Squad a while back." (-3-)

He looks back at Magneto. "Look at him now, man. I'm amazed that anyone could live through some of the things he's lived through. He's been kind of an inspiration to me -- makes me want to kick just a little harder."

"Thank you, Uncle Aq," says Charles.

"Nah," says Ahmad, "thank *you*, Little Man. Anyone that can handle what you've handled and still hold his head is someone special in my book."

---

Morning breaks. Magneto and Rogue stand in front of Charles and Monet just outside the interactive biosphere that serves as the training ground for students at Xavier's.

"I hope you can understand my decision, father," says Charles, clutching Monet's hand.

"Ah may have more trouble with it than your daddy," says Rogue. "Ah barely even got to know you."

"There will be time for that in the future, I promise," Charles replies, "but right now, this is where I belong. These people are my family as much as you are, and I still have much to learn about this world where I have found myself. Like Everett, I, too, want to make it a better place, a place where we will all be free from persecution and hatred. Perhaps those are lofty goals, but you both taught me that they're worth fighting for."

"Any dream worth having," says Magneto, "is a dream worth fighting for. I am proud of you, son, and I hope one day that I can live up to the image of your real father."

"Just remember," replies Charles, "in another world, the two of you were the best of lovers. Be good to each other, and maybe one day, you'll have the chance to see me grow up."

Rogue sniffs and rubs the edge of her eye. "Ah'm gonna miss you, Charles."

"And I you, mother."

Rogue turns to Monet. "You better be good to him, ya hear, or Ah'll hafta come back here and bust some heads."

"I give you my word, Rogue," nods Monet.

"We will be in touch again, soon, Charles," says Magneto. "I bid you farewell."

"Farewell. I love you."

"I...love you, too, my son."

As she and Magneto walk away toward the edge of the campus, Rogue looks back for a moment at the boy that called her his mother.

"Is it really possible, Erik?", she says. "Do you really think he could be our son? That Ah could even have a son?"

"In this world, Rogue," Magneto replies, "I have learned that all things are possible. I would think the fact that you did not abandon me when I returned to you proves that you believe the same thing."

"Ah guess I do believe a little," she says, looking back at him. "Could Ah ask a favor of ya, though?"

"Certainly."

"Can we just get away from it all for a little bit? No X-Men, no mutant prejudice, no alternate worlds, just you and me. Just for a little while."

"Of course, Rogue. I need to take some time to understand all that I have experienced myself. Plus, I am not sure this world is ready to accept this new and different Magneto just yet."

"Ah am, Erik. Believe me."

They fly off together into the sunrise.

---

*Do you believe they will be happy together, Charles?*, asks Monet psionically.

*I have to, Monet,* he replies. *For better or for worse, the world needs Magneto and Rogue, and I won't let them disappoint us.*

"Yo, Chuck!"

Charles and Monet turn to see Rayquan in full uniform standing at the door of the biosphere.

"Chamber's in here goin' on 'bout how he's gonna kick your ass today. You gonna let him talk like that?"

Monet rolls her eyes and sighs. Charles just looks over at her smiles.

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EPILOGUE

---

"Xavier Institute for Higher Learning, this is Jean Grey."

"Jean? Hi, this is Ahmad Parker."

"Ahmad, hi! How are you?"

"I'm doin' a'ight."

"How are things in Harlem?"

"Much better lately. We've had the night watches in effect, and even the Nation has gotten involved with us, so we're makin' some progress out here."

"That's good to hear. So to what do we owe the honor of this call?"

"Well, Jean, Monica and I have been thinkin' about things lately, especially after what went down the other night...don't know if you heard about that or not..."

"I heard a little bit. I haven't had the chance to talk to Sean about it yet, though."

"Well, Sean was the one who suggested I talk to you, since his school is geared more toward the younger set...and I was just curious, you know...if maybe you guys have any night or weekend programs...you know, that might help us out."

"You want to develop your power a little more, don't you?"

"Yeah, we could be doin' a little more, I guess."

"It's no problem. I'll talk with Professor Xavier about it today. Sound good?"

"Sure does. Thanks, Jean."

---

"I'm not comfortable with this, Emma."

"Trust me on this one, Irish. They won't be hurting anyone."

"Don't be so sure, lass. Next thing ye know, Jono 'n' Paige'll be wantin' a room together."

"That I will *never* allow. Do you know how much it cost to rebuild the girls' dorm?" (-1-)

"I know, I know, but it still looks like we're givin' them some kind o' special treatment, even if it is only one night a week."

"Look, it's not like they'll be all over each other like a couple of wild animals. We both know she's above that sort of thing."

"Still makes me bloody uncomfortable."

"Like I said, Sean...trust me."

---

"But what about christening the knights?"

"We can do that later. Right now we have to take care of the subjects. *ahem* As the good and just ruler of this kingdom, I hearby declare this field to be set aside for the planting of apple trees. These trees will be earmarked to feed all the children of the kingdom."

"Uh, Charles?"

"Yes, my queen?"

"My apple trees fell over."

"Don't make them out of sand, silly. Here, let me show you."

"Hey, you called me silly."

The children play together on the beach well into the evening, as Monet St. Croix lay next to Charles Xavier Lehnscherr, her toes nestled in between his ankles, her hand running through his hair. At the same time, across the campus of Xavier's, a fifteen-minute walk away from their room, a whisper echoes silently through the damaged computer lab.

"....Monet....Monet...."

FIN

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FOOTNOTES

Chapter the first

(-1-) Little Roberto was the youngest orphan at the Central American mission where an amnesia-striken Magneto landed in the now-classic UXM #327.

(-2-) The X-Cutioner told Rogue this after their confrontation in X-Man #11.

(-3-) Lyrics from "Brooklyn Kids" by Jemini the Gifted One.

(-4-) Charles and Monet established their psi-link in Chapter 12 of "Double-Team."

(-5-) Head coach of the Georgia Tech Yellow Jackets, to be more specific.

---

Chapter the second

(-1-) We never met Rufus in UXM #1, but he was there.

(-2-) These stories are told in a bit more detail in the Magneto #0 one- shot, and are brought up again in UXM #274-275.

(-3-) Zaladane appeared in the Savage land storyline, again in UXM #274- 275.

---

Chapter the third

(-1-) See Chapter 12 of "The Mutants of Bucktown."

(-2-) Magneto's son, Quicksilver. ("Well, DUH!", says Jubilee.)

(-3-) While The Alcove is fictional, The Kinsey Report is a real blues band, and a damn good one two. Their most recent LPs are available on Charisma/Pointblank records.

---

Chapter the fourth

(-1-) Lyrics from "The Sky Is Crying," by Stevie Ray Vaughn. The Kinsey Report does an incredible live version of this song.

(-2-) Something else we learned about Manchild from "The Mutants of Bucktown." But you knew that already, didn't you?

(-3-) This scene and its accompanying speech originates from X-Men Chronicles #2.

(-4-) Another reference to UXM #327.

(-5-) Just another brief summation of LegionQuest.

(-6-) Again, tthis storyline appears in UXM #274-275.

---

Chapter the fifth

(-1-) The rehead in question is Caitlin Fairchild...yes, THAT Caitlin Fairchild. Read "Double-Team" for all the gory details.

(-2-) Oblique reference to X-Men Omega. Cool, huh?

(-3-) When I wrote "The Mutants of Bucktown," I had no idea what the St. Croix family secret was, or how Generation X creator Scott Lobdell would write it out. So I created my own story about Vicente (or Vincente, actually -- the spelling was an error on my part), based somewhat on the speculation that he and M were related. So, when I finally did this chapter, I decided not to retcon "Bucktown" so that it was Emplate instead of Vicente, but instead make both Emplate and Vicente Monet's brothers. I suppose I'm just writing my way back into continuity, but it's my story, and I'm sticking to it. Emplate was never brought up previously in the Manchild trilogy because Monet wanted to put Emplate in her past, and regardless, he wasn't important to those stories. (To be honest, he's not that important to THIS story, either, but I decided a Perk vs. Emplate scene would be really cool, and that I could build around it.) The real Emplate story is in GenX #12-#14, which are not a part of this timeline. They go into a bit more depth about the relationship between M and Emplate.

(-4-) Perkolater was (very briefly) a member of the Reclamation Squad, introduced in "The Mutants of Bucktown."

(-5-) Obligatory description of Murmur borrowed from its creator.

---

Chapter the sixth

(-1-) Read "The Mutants of Bucktown" for the 411 on the Reclamation Squad.

(-2-) See the "Fatal Attractions" crossover for that whole story.

(-3-) In Chapter 3 of the "The Mutants of Bucktown."

---

Epilogue

(-1-) See Generation X #6.

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