Welcome back to the Angles universe! If you haven't read the prior Angles story, this one won't make much sense. The prior story, Complementary Angles, can be found on this site. I tried to provide a link, but the coding didn't carry through.
As always, the X-Men and related characters don't belong to me. I'm just continuing to have a bit of fun with them. I hope you enjoy it.
- X - X - X - X -
The hail of shrapnel had barely settled outside the Bradbury Building before Scott Summers spoke. "Jean, link us -- X-Men and the team leaders."
Jean was already striding toward the body of Erik Lensherr, Magneto, but Scott felt the shallow presence of the others in his mind almost immediately. Jean wouldn't do a deep link for this, just enough that they could communicate quickly. Good work, everyone. I'm guessing we have about ten minutes, if that, before the media descends.
We need to clear out before they get here, Sushi, leader of the team of Navy SEALs, said. Can't be having our faces broadcast on national news.
International, Scott corrected automatically. There was no way this event wouldn't make international news. Phoenix, if anyone gets here sooner, can you keep them from focusing on the SEAL and Delta teams? She sent a terse affirmative, distracted by her examination of the body, and Scott continued, All right, then -- Injuries?
Incredibly, no one was hurt badly. He and Jean had suffered small cuts from their march into the whirlwind of metal Magneto had summoned. Peter was covered with bruises from the fight he'd had while depowered. Three or four men from the Delta and SEAL teams had suffered various cuts -- one had even been nicked by a bullet from God knew where. Overall, it was much less than they'd had any right to expect when they started this mission.
Very good. He couldn't help the pride that filled the words. All right, then -- Sushi, Redneck, get your men out of here, back to the landing point. Your judgment whether to wait for us or get out and send the transport back. He sensed their acknowledgment, and told Jean to drop them from the link.
We should clear outta here, too, Cyke, Logan said. Like you said, media'll be here any minute.
I know. I'm going to talk to them. Shock reverberated through the link that joined them, and he continued, This is an opportunity, and I'm seizing it.
What kinda opportunity? Of course the challenge came from Logan.
To get our views across without having to fight, Scott told them. He knew Jean sensed there was more to it than he was saying, also knew none of the others were sensitive or skilled enough to detect it. We're heroes, X-Men. People will listen to us now.
Logan's mental snort expressed his opinion. Not forever.
We don't need forever, Scott countered.
What about the school? Ororo asked. Can it stand the publicity? Can the students?
Kitty, soon as you can, register a domain and set me up an email account for it.
No problem, Kitty responded easily. Cyclops at X-Men dot com it is.
He'd have to do something nice for Kitty, Scott decided. Her flippant response broke the tension that had been building since he'd announced his intention to talk to the media. Then that's the contact information I'll give them. This means big changes, to the team and the school, and we need to discuss them.
Make it quick, Logan said. I hear choppers and vans approaching.
Can't discuss it thoroughly before they get here, even in mindlink, Scott said. So we'll have a meeting tomorrow after we've rested and debriefed.
He felt their acknowledgments, and said, "Good work today. All of you."
Jean took his spoken words as a cue to drop the link, and he didn't overrule her. The others needed time to sort out their own reactions and possibly to get out of the immediate line of sight of camera crews. He didn't have that luxury, and he strode toward the arriving vehicles.
- X -
Magneto was dead.
The woman whom he'd named Polaris but had been born Lorna Dane stared at the television in her hotel room in Parkfield, California, the awful truth blaring in blue and yellow letters on the bottom of the screen while the talking heads who claimed to be reporters yammered to fill time.
She didn't want to believe it, changed channels out of some desperate wish that the news was wrong, that somehow, he'd survived. But no, every station showed the same clip over and over, a body being loaded onto an ambulance and taken away from the Bradbury Building in Los Angeles.
Her grandfather was dead. Lorna wanted to scream, to rage, but the walls of the motel were thin, and as much as she wanted to scream, she wanted to be left alone more. So she screamed in silence, tears flowing down her cheeks and blurring her view of the screen.
She'd never talk to him again, never play with metal with him again... He was the only one who'd understood her power, welcomed it. Now she was alone. For long moments, she heard nothing but her own harsh sobs. Finally, she staggered into the bathroom and grabbed handfuls of tissue to dry her eyes and blow her nose.
"We understand that a group called the X-Men are responsible for this," she heard one of the talking heads saying. X-Men? She recognized the name, of course, Grandpa Erik had been with them for a while, until they chose the weaker path. He'd left them to do what was necessary, and they'd retreated to their ivory tower of a school. And yet, now they were involved in this? She had to see.
She came back to the bedroom, focused once again on the screen as the current talking head continued, "We're going live to Cassandra Dallmeyer and Cyclops, leader of the X-Men."
"Thanks, Jim," the new talking head said. "And thank you, Cyclops, for taking the time to answer questions. The most important is, what happened?"
The camera shifted to Cyclops, and though his eyes were covered by some kind of visor, black with a red lens, Lorna couldn't help feeling that she'd seen him before. Probably a result of Grandpa talking about them, she told herself.
"That's a long story, Ms. Dallmeyer," Cyclops said, and even his voice sounded familiar. "The important part is that we -- the X-Men -- stand ready to assist when the need arises. We were at Alcatraz, and now we're here."
"We don't need more mutant vigilantes," Dallmeyer said.
"You're absolutely right," Cyclops said, politely ignoring Dallmeyer's stunned expression when he did. She obviously hadn't expected him to agree. "Which is why the X-Men have been in talks with the government about just what role we'll play in such situations. We were authorized to help at Alcatraz, and we were ordered to come to Los Angeles."
Lorna's fists clenched, and anger roared so loudly in her ears that she didn't hear whatever was said next. The X-Men had killed her grandfather.
Dallmeyer simply stared at Cyclops, and when she had no question, Cyclops spoke again, filling the momentary dead air. "We hope, of course, that our services won't be needed in this kind of situation, and we stand ready to assist any time our abilities may help."
This kind of situation? Killing her grandfather -- who'd been a friend and teacher to them, even to Cyclops -- was a situation? Anger flooded her, and her fists clenched. She'd give him a situation, one that mirrored her own. He'd hurt, even as she hurt.
Grandpa Erik would demand nothing less.
She'd need help, though. She wasn't stupid enough to think her own powers would stand against the combined might of the X-Men if her grandfather and those he'd had around him hadn't been up to the task. But who?
She clicked off the television in the middle of another talking head's stupid question, considering. She knew some of her grandfather's subordinates were in prison after Alcatraz, and more would join them after today's events -- but none of them were powerful enough to stand against the X-Men, either.
There was only one answer -- she'd have to call the Hellfire Club.
- X -
For the first time in Scott's memory, the entire team had already gathered when he walked into the conference room, Jean at his side, and the bond she'd established between them the night before quietly humming at the back of his mind.
They'd returned from the mission, and he'd helped her grieve what they'd had to do to Magneto, and then she'd joined their minds together with his joyful consent. Now, she was always with him, and he with her.
They're nervous, she told him, and through that bond, he sensed an echo of what she felt.
They should be, he answered as she found a seat and he took his place at the front of the room. This is something Charles never planned for.
Charles himself sat near the rear of the room, more an observer than a participant. Scott nodded to him, acknowledging the change in status, and waited for the first question.
It came, as he'd suspected it would, from Ororo. "What were you thinking, talking to those reporters yesterday?"
"You knew it was coming," Logan told her before Scott could answer. "What he said after Alkali Lake -- heroes don't hide."
"There's a difference between not hiding and putting our name up in neon," Ororo shot back. "And you've exposed the students to all that media attention --"
"I didn't mention the school," Scott said. "I gave the X-Men contact address Kitty created. That's where we start -- but the school might have some exposure down the road. And I'm not certain that's a bad thing."
Ororo was about to protest, but Charles spoke before she formed the words. "Nor am I."
That drew all eyes to him, and Scott suspected he'd intended exactly that.
"But, Professor," Ororo said, "the students will be distracted by all the media attention."
"For a time," Charles agreed, "but Scott's tactic will also help the school be known as a place of refuge for mutants who need it."
"Refuge? The school's already been attacked once because of the X-Men," Ororo said. "Can we put the students at more risk?"
"We're at risk just because we're mutants," Scott declared, pulling attention back to him. "But the increased publicity can help protect the school, too."
"How's that?" Ororo looked dubious. Logan and Jean nodded, and Scott suspected they'd picked up on his thought. Peter and Kitty looked interested and curious and Bobby -- well, it was good the conference room didn't have windows, Scott thought, or else he'd be staring out them.
"When Stryker attacked, we had no recourse," Scott explained. "But think if we'd been nationally known -- Stryker would've thought twice before attacking us, and there would've been massive media repercussions."
"Do you think parents will want their children at this school, knowing it could be attacked at any time?" Ororo demanded.
"Better here where there are people who can protect them than on the street where there's not," Logan said with a shrug.
"It's a valid concern," Scott said. "And while right now it's impractical to completely separate the school and the team, we can take some steps in that direction."
"Like what?" Peter asked, stepping in for the first time.
"Like hiring more staff just to teach, freeing me, Jean, and Logan for more team activities -- although Jean can remain as school physician." He raised one eyebrow, and she nodded agreement.
"We don't have room for more staff," Ororo said.
"We do if Logan, Jean, and I move out of the mansion. The boathouse and the caretaker's cottage are sitting empty."
"They need work," Charles said. "The caretaker's cottage has been abandoned for decades, and the boathouse hasn't seen use in about as long."
Scott couldn't help grinning. "We've got a telekinetic and a guy who can bench press a semi if he wants. I think we can manage to clear them out." The others chuckled, and he continued, "It means you'll be taking on more of the school duties, Ro. I won't have time."
She nodded, her expression still stiff, but he saw the excitement in her eyes. Her heart had always been more with the school than with the team, and he was glad they finally had the resources to allow her to indulge that passion.
"I'll be available if the team needs me," she said.
"I know," Scott assured her. "I'm hoping we won't."
"Would be a change of pace," Logan muttered.
Scott didn't bother to glare at him -- it would be a wasted effort. "You and I will teach one class each, Logan."
That drew a snort. "What'm I gonna teach?"
"Phys ed?" Jean suggested. Scott barely glanced at her. She'd picked up his idea and decided the suggestion might go over better if it came from her instead of him. She was probably correct, too, he thought ruefully.
You know I am, she sent. You two will never be easy with each other.
No, but at least we're not trying to kill each other, he sent back. Then, noting Logan's thoughtful expression, he said aloud, "That's not a bad idea."
Logan shrugged. "I'll give it a shot. No guarantees how good I'll be, though."
"Fair enough," Scott said. "And I thought you might take the caretaker's cottage. The boathouse is closer to the mansion, so Jean can get here faster if she's needed medically."
"Makes sense," Logan agreed.
"Any questions or comments about the separation?" Scott asked. The others shook their heads, and he said, "All right. Next up is the full debriefing. Logan and I will report to the Joint Chiefs tomorrow, and they'll want a full report."
- X -
Two hours later, Scott walked hand-in-hand with Jean toward the boathouse.
"Too bad you have to leave again," he said.
"You know I've been scheduled for this conference for a year," Jean reminded him. "Most of it will probably be dull, but there might be something useful. Besides, you're going to Washington tomorrow, so we would've been apart anyway."
"But I'll be back for dinner. You won't be back for four days."
She squeezed his hand. "I'm never more than a thought away."
"And I'm going to take advantage of that, believe me." He wiggled his eyebrows at her in the best lascivious manner he had. Given her laughter, both mental and physical, he suspected his best wasn't very good.
The door to the boathouse swung open as they drew closer.
"Showoff," Scott teased.
"Hey, you volunteered me to clean it out. I might as well do something fun before then."
"How long before you have to leave?"
"An hour before I have to pack."
Scott shook his head. "Not nearly enough time for real fun. But maybe time to talk a bit?"
"Always." They stepped inside the boathouse and with a thought, Jean had opened the coverings on the windows to let the late morning sun stream in. He felt her mind still as she studied the space. "We could decorate it like a loft," she said after a moment. "Areas, rather than separate rooms."
"After we build in a floor, that'll do for a start," Scott agreed.
"Start?" She turned to face him, and he felt the link she'd established deepen.
"It's going to be a real pain surprising you for your birthday now," he grumbled.
"I'll be a good girl and wait for you to say what's on your mind," she let the link fade to its normal strength. "This time, anyway."
"It makes more sense to raise the roof and build in a second story than try to build in a floor over the water."
Jean considered that for a moment, and nodded. "Temperature and insulation, sure. And less chance of snakes or frogs moving in."
Scott pointed to the far corner. "I thought we'd build a partition wall there, so we can have a private bedroom."
"This isn't private enough?"
"It is for now. But it won't be when we have kids." He felt her surprise through the link. "We've talked about it before."
"I know, and I want to, but -- now?"
"If we wait until we make the world safe for democracy and mutants, we'll wait forever." He slid his arms around her from behind, rested his chin on her shoulder. "I don't want to wait forever."
She relaxed into his embrace with a soft exhale. "I don't want to wait forever, either." She turned her head to brush his lips with hers. "I do want to wait until we're married."
"Then we go shopping for rings when you're back from your conference." He kissed her neck. "You already said yes, after all."
"A moment of pure insanity on my part." She arched her neck toward him. "Thought you said it wasn't enough time for real fun."
"Guess we'll have to settle for fake fun. You're going to be gone three whole days… fake fun's better than no fun." He turned her in his arms and covered her mouth with his.