He wanted to join because football season had just finished, and he had nothing better to do. He wanted to join because they wore cool army uniforms, and he thought he'd look good in them. It was all for fun, something to pass the long afternoons, something to keep him busy when he had spare time. He never even considered the idea that it could affect his life. He never would have thought that it could change his way of life. It was absurd, crazy. And he didn't think too much of it. Maybe things would have been different if he had, but it was too late now. Five years had gone, and everything had changed.

They were everywhere. You could see them on billboards, newspapers, magazines, posters. They had advertisements running on almost every single channel on TV, and their commercials could be heard on every radio station. They were as common as smoking ads in the eighties, and anti-smoking ads today. Its benefactors spared no expense.

They made sure everyone knew what the letters FOH meant: The Friends of Humanity.

At the impressive age of twenty-three, he had already managed to rise up the lower ranks and receive the privilege of commanding his own team. He joined the FOH organization when he was eighteen, a young man of great potential. Star quarterback, rich as hell, and drop-dead gorgeous, he was labeled the most popular guy in high school. He was charming, and he was able to sneak out –or rather, charm his way out- of trouble more than once.

He was considered one of the best in the entire organization, and that was the reason he arranged this meeting tonight. He was the one who should have received that one particular assignment, not the incompetent fellow who was now somewhere planning the raid in Boston. He should be the one doing that, he thought, and since he was not, that mission would be a failure. He'd make sure of it.

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The warehouse was located near the pier. It was dark inside, and true to the clichés abundant in Hollywood films, it was abandoned for the time-being, perfect for secret, suspicious meetings like this. As he got out of the car and stepped inside the wooden building, he began to have doubts. What if she decided not to come? What if she never received the message he had worked so hard to send?

He breathed in a musky stench and grimaced; he wasn't exactly a man of the sea. There was not a single light on, but he continued to move forward, his eyes alert for any movement. Scarce moonlight snuck in through the high square windows, showing him a clear path. Huge wooden crates filled with who-knows-what were stacked to the right and left of him. After a few minutes, he stopped. He was losing his patience, and with his right hand, started to reach for the flashlight that was strapped onto his waist. One of the lights that hung from the ceiling immediately switched on, blinding him for a short moment and causing him to raise his hands up to his face.

"No need for that," a soft, feminine voice said aloud, referring to the flashlight.

At the sound of her voice, he immediately reached for the gun attached to his belt.

"No need for that, either," the voice said again with a hint of sarcasm, as his hand missed the gun that suddenly flew off from his holster. With a grunt, he clenched his fist. He was at a disadvantage. Well, at least she showed up, right?

He finally opened his eyes, and there she was, clad in her own sleek uniform: a black bodysuit with an emerald green triangle down the middle of her torso. Five years had been good to her, he thought, as he gazed at the woman who stood a few feet from him.

She had appeared out of nowhere. She looked at him with wary eyes, though curiosity shone through. Her perfect chin was slightly lifted, showing a way of superiority.

As he surveyed her, hundreds of questions popped into his head, thoughts that had begun to plague him since the night before. How've you been? Is it really true you can read minds? Did you come alone? Where the girl I sent to you?

"How?" she asked abruptly, breaking him away from his thoughts. He knew perfectly well what she meant, but he decided to take his time answering as he studied her. It had been a while since he last saw her, after all.

"How?" he repeated, cocking his head. "Five years, and that's how you greet me?"

Her face remained stoic, although he could have sworn he saw the smallest of smiles.

"Okay," he muttered. Fine. "Well, let's see... oh, right. Exactly eight days ago, my team was able to catch two feisty little mu—tants. One could turn invisible and the other, well, the other one just looked like a freak. The two girls were about twelve years old, I think, and well, I made a little deal with one of them, the one who could turn invisible." He paused. He had almost said muties, a very offending nickname to people with the X-gene. He looked at her. She showed no reaction and stared back, waiting for him to continue. "I knew she'd be able to find you, contact you. Either that or you would find her. I told her I'd set her friend free if she did a little errand for me. She agreed, and the rest is history," he finished.

"I see." Except for her rosy lips, no other part of her body moved. "And why did you want to see me? Unless of course this is a trap," she added with a smirk.

"No, this isn't a trap. I came alone, Jean."

In reply, she pursed her lips stubbornly. Just get on with it.

He sighed. "I came to tell you that your bunch of friends up in Boston have been discovered. A raid's already been scheduled to take care of the mutant group sighted up north."

"What are you talking about?" Jean asked icily.

He stared at her. "So this is how you want to play it?" He did an about-face, and shook his head, as if pitying her. "Make sure you know what you're doing... but for the love of God, I hope you at least tell your little friends to be more careful, if not evacuate the whole damn city for the next few weeks."

He managed to take a few steps before hearing her voice again.

"Wait."

He turned around. "Yeah?"

"It just doesn't make any sense," she said, her face showing emotion for the first time. "Why did you tell me all that information?"

Because that assignment should've been given to me, not that idiot Larkin, he thought fiercely, though his face showed no expression.

"Isn't it enough that I did?" he asked instead.

She rolled her eyes. It wasn't the reply she was looking for. "And am I supposed to believe you just like that?"

"No. I guess not," he said slowly. Suddenly, a devilish smile appeared on his lips. "But you're welcome to read my mind if you want."

Jean narrowed her eyes suspiciously. "No thanks," she replied. "But I swear, if I find out you're lying to me, I'm going to make sure you regret this."

He smiled. He couldn't help but remember the last time she said that to him. It was right after school, and they were standing by the lockers in the crowded hallway...

"You have to be there. It's our last game of the season! And you know, ever since we started going out, I've never missed any one of your games."

"Don't worry, I'll be there, alright? And besides, it says here that it'll only last about an hour or so," he said, holding up the yellow flier. He then glanced at his golden Rolex. "And we have exactly an hour and thirty-six minutes before the game starts."

"Fine, fine. But I swear, if you're not there, I am going to make sure you regret it, Duncan Matthews."

He merely grinned in reply.

Good times? Probably. He remembered driving her back to the Xavier Institute later that night, after the exciting game, and he never thought it possible that it would be the last time he'd see her face to face. Well, until now, that is.

It was that same day he joined the Friends of Humanity, a local association that had just started, dedicated to protecting the surrounding community from harmful and dangerous people that lurked in the streets. In five short years it had grown into a worldwide organization, rich and powerful with thousands of soldiers armed with high-tech weaponry. Its main purpose was to apprehend all mutants in hiding, so they would then be sent to a small prison island called Genosha where they would be forced to stay until someone was able to discover a way to 'fix' the mutant problem.

The Friends of Humanity brought a gap wider than the sea between the couple, with the only reason being Jean was a mutant and he was not.

The next day he watched in disbelief as footage of her and her other friends fighting a gigantic red robot was shown on TV. He didn't know what to think then.

She was a telepath and a telekinetic. He knew it for a fact after reading her file in the organization's computer database. A person who read and control minds... but he knew her, knew her to be an honest, kind, genuine person. She wouldn't do anything to him now... would she?

"Duncan..."

He forced the crazy thoughts out of his head and stared at the redhead before him. She looked slightly worried... maybe even concerned...

"Did you hear me?"

"I heard you, Jean. Just trust me, okay?" He suddenly sounded tired, and it surprised them both. "Just... trust me."

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He drove home with the radio blasting rock songs, though the guitar riffs and loud banging of drums amounted to nothing more than a low hum in the back of his mind. The major part of his brain was focused on what had just happened earlier that night. He had met Jean Grey. Or rather, he had met up with Jean Grey. After five years, he was able to see her lovely face again.

"Okay, okay. Let's say I do trust you," Jean said, looking straight at him. "What's the catch?"

He shrugged and casually glanced at his watch. "Just trust me, alright? Anyway, I gotta go. Gotta release the other mutant kid, you know, and all that stuff," he said, turning around to the direction where he came from. He started to walk away, when he suddenly felt a sharp gust of wind by his ear, like something had just zoomed past him. He stopped, and saw his gun floating in front of him, inches from his nose. Carefully, he took it from mid-air.

"Thank—" he turned around, "you."

He blinked. Jean was gone.

Seeing Jean again brought the memories flooding back. There was just no conceivable way of blocking the past. He recalled how he always felt like he was on top of the world when he was with her, how he always felt like showing her off... because to him, Jean was perfect.

He was so sure that he and Jean would be pronounced Prom King and Queen. But Jean disappeared halfway-through their senior year, when mutants were discovered roaming the world, pretending to be normal humans.

Duncan gave a lopsided smile as he stopped at a red light. The bad part of this entire recollecting moment was that it also made the feelings he buried deep within resurface.

The memory of how it felt like every time he saw Jean walking with Scott Summers was unbearable. They looked like they knew each other inside out. They were the best of friends, and it seemed like every time Duncan caught a glimpse of Jean with Scott, she always had a smile on her face. It wasn't that he didn't want Jean to be happy. No, that idea was absurd. He truly did want Jean to be happy... but with him.

It was very obvious that Scott wanted to be more than friends, but the question was, did Jean?

Duncan remembered how he constantly had to remind himself that if Jean did like the guy that way, then why was she going out with him instead of Scott?

But he knew better. And it always made him feel insecure about the whole thing.

Not to mention the fact that the two lived under the same goddamned roof.

Duncan parked the car in the expansive driveway, and when he got inside the house, he immediately went straight to his bedroom. It was the same house that he grew up in, only now, he lived alone. It was a nice, expensive house. There was a fancy pool in the backyard, just below the balcony. The living room was spacious, big enough so that he even had a ping pong table placed at the center.

His parents decided to move away to London ever since the mutant issue became more serious. Duncan told them that mutants were everywhere, even in Europe. Yes, they replied, but they're scarcer over there, unlike here. And that made it safer somewhat.

They tried their best to persuade him to come with them. But he wouldn't budge. His mind was decided, and he was staying here. He finished high school with a football scholarship, but he never went to college. He pursued his life with the Friends of Humanity.

At the early days of his membership, he had heavily considered quitting. After all, his girlfriend was a damned mutant. But when weeks passed by and he heard nothing from her, not even a single phone call, he tried his best to forget her. If he didn't mean anything to her, then she wouldn't mean anything to him.

Duncan didn't bother switching on the lights as he kicked off his boots and collapsed onto the bed, completely worn out. He glanced at the neon green numbers of his alarm clock. It was almost two in the morning, and he groaned against the pillow. He'd have to get up at five since he didn't want to be late in the office. Plus early traffic...

Three hours of sleep wasn't going to be enough, he thought wearily as he closed his eyes, and almost immediately drifted off to a dreamless sleep.

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"Where've you been, Matthews?" Casey Larkin asked in a gruff voice, though he was grinning. He was bigger than Duncan, and his body was heavy like a professional football player's.

I could have been a pro football player, Duncan suddenly thought out of the blue. He was in great shape; and that was one advantage of being a soldier. But his body was a lot leaner now, less bulkier. He'd have to gain a lot more weight, practice the game, hire a trainer...

It had been a while since he last threw a football.

Both men wore what they usually wore: a dark blue army-like uniform, complete with a black bullet-proof vest and heavy boots. At their belted waists hung guns, ammunition, flashlights, keys...

They were inside an elevator at the FOH building branched in New York. It was one of hundreds set up across the United States and some parts of the world. Stopping at the 128th floor, they had a nice view of Manhattan through the glass windows.

"Anything new?" Duncan asked, ignoring the other man's question as they got out of the elevator.

"Nope," Larkin replied. "Except for my assignment in Boston, nothing's happening."

"Right. Good luck on that."

"Yeah, thanks. I'll need it," he said.

Damn right you will.

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It was Sunday night. He was watching television, but he wasn't seeing any of it. Duncan's meeting with Jean Grey occurred exactly four days ago, and the event still troubled his mind. A twenty-three year old guy sitting alone in front of the TV on a Sunday night doing nothing. One could see it as pathetic...

The room was dark since the only light came from the television. The audio volume was low, and with a bored sigh, Duncan changed the channel again for the umpteenth time. There were only so many times he could stand Ross and Rachel break up and make up…

Suddenly, he heard a strange sound —like a lock being unlocked. The double glass doors that led to the balcony immediately slid open shortly after, and this made Duncan Matthews jump from the couch with a start. He turned and saw the redhead from his thoughts standing in the balcony, one step away from the glass door. He didn't speak, partly because of shock and partly because he was speechless. At least, for the moment.

"The raid was last night," she said quietly, looking at him. "They spent the whole night searching the place. They didn't find anything. Not a single fingerprint to examine, not a single trail to follow."

Duncan was all ears.

"I…. just wanted to say thank you," she said, her voice soft. It even sounded like she meant it.

"You're...welcome," he said carefully. No matter the case, there was still a dangerous mutant in his house, and he was in nowhere reach of a weapon. Or a phone. Whichever. Part of him wanted her to leave, but a larger part of him wanted her to stay.

He wanted to —of all things— talk with her. He hadn't done a lot of talking since... well, a really long time. Sex was something one can get almost anywhere. Talking, having a decent conversation... that was rare. He suddenly realized, he didn't have any real friends. Sure his address book was filled with names and phone numbers of people who'd be more than willing to go have a fun night out, but after the club, they all went home with nothing to expect but a very uncomfortable hangover the next morning.

God, he missed high school. He missed being with her.

It was stupid. Neither trusted the other, and so when Jean turned to leave, he didn't do anything to stop her. She levitated herself from the ground as he stood in his living room, watching her. It wasn't any surprise. Through years of seeing mutant powers at work, he had grown quite used to it.

He closed his eyes, knowing that when he opened them, she'd be gone again.