Chapter 3

Danger Room

Singed flesh. Pungent. Crisp.

Direct hit.

Cyclops adjusted his visor. He didn't need to see the contact to know exactly where, when, and how hard his optic blast connected. Scott wasn't Wolverine, thankfully, but his sense of smell was pretty darn good too. And unlike Wolverine, he didn't have to constantly beat everyone over the head with how great he was.

Scott smiled. Or more accurately, he let a smile get away from him. There was a time when just thinking about the little braggart would get him bent out of shape. Time was a hell of a thing. Truth was he respected Wolverine as a man and loved him like a brother. A deranged, cantankerous brother, but a brother nonetheless. They didn't always like each other. But it didn't matter. After all these years they were family.

The familiar, faint odor of roasted human hair radiated off Bishop's prone body. Probably his forearms. Bishop might not have been alert enough to dodge but at least he had enough awareness to block before getting knocked through a decrepit concrete wall.

The bombed-out buildings were like concrete wedges of Swiss cheese with holes the size of mortars. The destitute surroundings were as close to a replica as Bishop could conjure of his time. Home field advantage. Storm's words. Not Scott's. Would make more sense to test Bishop in a neutral environment and see how he adapts. They wouldn't be doing this in the first place if they didn't already know he could lead in his own time. On his terms.

But Scott knew better than anyone that leading a team of X-Men meant learning how to adjust.

Chalky debris swept inside Scott's mask. What he really wanted was to take the whole cumbersome thing off and wipe his face. Shifting his visor was the best he could do. Another of life's wonderful little compromises.

Some days he wished he could just toss the stupid thing. World was so much smaller, and hotter, under the visor.

Scott palmed his right fist in his left hand and cracked his knuckles.

Crazy talk.

The visor helped him see in the way a wheelchair helped the Professor move. He needed it. He was grateful for it. More importantly, by now he was used to it.

Be weirder without it.

Red coronas of energy rippled from beneath the rubble. A cackling surge of energy burst from Bishop. Cyclops tucked and rolled. The blast sliced through the Danger Room floor quicker than an adamantium cut.

Bishop's body glowed. He bolted toward Cyclops like a streak of fire. A vicious right fist cracked against the side of Cyclops' face. His jaw rattled like dentures in a bag.

Sparks of energy charged through Bishop's left hand. A ballet of shadows danced over Bishop's face behind his drawn fist.

He had that look in his eye. That look Bishop got when he would briefly forget he wasn't an outcast from another time. When he forgot he didn't belong.

It was a look of joy. Unbridled. Carnal. Joy. Scott never pretended to be best pals with Bishop. And a part of him maybe lamented it. He never truly knew Bishop. He didn't think any of the others did either. Not even Storm. Maybe they never reached out enough to him to make him feel like he belonged. Maybe Bishop didn't want to fit in. Not all the way.

But Scott knew one thing about the man called Bishop. Whoever he really was. Whatever his true personality was beneath his sense of alienation and awe of the X-Men. This was Bishop. The crazed warrior fighting him to his last breath. That was Bishop.

A man can't make his eyes lie.

Scott was something of an expert in the department.

"If this were a real fight, Cyclops…" Bishop's barreled chest heaved up and down, "…you would be de-."

"If this were a real fight," Storm commanded from twenty feet above like the voice of god, "you would have humility forced upon you instead of it simply being advised."

"Now!" Cyclops said.

A roaring gust of wind slammed into Bishop's chest. Cyclops swept his legs in unison. Bishop toppled to the artificial concrete floor with a jarring thud.

Cyclops pinned Bishop's left hand with his knee and jammed his forearm against Bishop's throat until the time traveling X-Man's face was as blue as his uniform.

Bishop thrashed from side to side. It was like trying to restrain a crocodile. Or Jean at a shoe sale.

"I gotta give it to you, you fought a good fight," Cyclops said.

"…Fought?" Bishop spat out the word as if it was a bone in his fish.

"Fought. As in, this exercise is over," Cyclops said.

Bishop squirmed feverishly. "That's the difference between us Cyclops…" His left hand trembled under Cyclops' knee. "I don't quit easy."

Scott tightened his vice against his throat. Cyclops' eye beams flared behind the slit of his visor like the sun wearing sunglasses, "Your choice, Bishop."

The energy Bishop absorbed from Cyclops' optic blast scorched the fabric over Cyclops' Patella. He couldn't hold him down much longer.

Fine. You know what? Fine. Scott had the shot. This is what Bishop wanted. He wanted a real fight. Scott was happy to oblige.

Cyclops focused his visor squarely between Bishop's glaring eyes.

Bishop had no idea who he was messing with. What he was getting into. No one ever did. Not with Scott Summers. Story of his life. They push and push and push, but when Bishop's laying up in the med room, everyone would look at Scott with those damn, condemning eyes. And say, Scott should have known better. Scott went too far. Scott should've been able to control himself.

His burning red eye lingered on Bishop.

"What are you waiting for?" Bishop barked.

"…Last chance!" Scott said.

"For which of us?" Bishop asked. His hand was wriggling free. "I'd die before I gave up fighting. Like a lot of our enemies…"

Scott's grip weakened over Bishop's arm.

"… You're in my time, remember?" Bishop's pupils constricted, "...Not this place. Not these walls. This fight. Face to face with an opponent that won't stop until he's won. Where a second of inaction could be a thousand innocent casualties!"

Storm gracefully touched down onto the floor from the ceiling. Sparks of electricity flowed from her fingertips.

"Do not speak on such things you have little understanding. The X-Men have made hard choices before and would do so again if and when necessary," she said.

"Only after it's too late!" Bishop yelled.

He yanked his arm from beneath Cyclops' knee and fired at Storm. The sizzling impact leveled her to the ground.

Bishop snatched Cyclops by the throat and rammed him against the opposite wall.

"Aargh!" Scott grunted.

"I believe that will suffice for today," Professor Xavier spoke from the control room communicator. "Exit Danger Room Program."

"Good workout everyone, grab some water and we'll meet you down there in a second," Jean Grey said from the control room intercom.

The illusion of the future disappeared. Towering holographic buildings faded into tiny patterns of light. Then nothingness. Only the default silver steel of the Danger Room was left.

Bishop released his chokehold. Scott dropped to a knee. His aching lungs gasped for air.

"…Heck of a grip you got there," Scott said between breaths.

Bishop helped Scott to his feet and chuckled.

"You had a receipt coming from that optic blast," Bishop said.

"Catch," Ororo tossed Bishop and Scott bottles of water.

Bishop rubbed the cool plastic against his scalded forearms. Steam rose off his now hairless arms. It looked like someone went up and down his arms with a mini lawnmower.

"Hopefully this is the only time I ever shave my arms," Bishop said.

"Still cheaper than how Jean does it," Scott said.

Bishop snorted and the two laughed.

"I was unaware women even did such a thing," Bishop said.

Scott Summers! Jean telepathically shouted.

"Er…" Cyclops almost dropped his water bottle, "…of course not Bishop. Only a joke."

"I am certain there are many things about the other sex you are unaware, Lucas," Ororo said.

Bishop's face did its best impression of his red forearms. "…You have me at a disadvantage, Wind Rider. As you normally do."

Storm conjured a gentle snow cloud and rested it on Bishop's blistered forearms.

"Perhaps that is best. Conversations like this with the wrong woman might lead to more than just forearms being burned." Storm smiled.

Storm was always so comfortable with herself. Wasn't a coincidence Scott was the one under a mask while her hair flowed like ivory waves.

Sometimes…most times it was hard for Scott to figure out if she was flirting or just making a statement.

Of all his friends, she was definitely the closest to Bishop. Maybe Jubilee a distant second. Even then, he never got the impression Storm saw Bishop the way she once saw Forge.

Or how Scott saw Jean.

…

Anything?

Darn.

Finally a chance at some brownie points with Jean and it's the one time she's conveniently not reading his thoughts.

Oh, don't think just because I don't respond doesn't mean I'm not here. Better luck next time.

The Danger Room doors swooshed open. The two most important people in Scott's life entered.

Was easy to think that way.

Cyclops took a sip of his water. Bishop had chugged his bottle until he sucked out the last bit of water and air inside it.

Storm had finished her water even faster than Bishop. She had the perfect figure. But when it came to food and drink? The woman could eat.

Including this one, Scott had taken two measured sips from his bottle. He kept telling himself he was blessed to have two people in his life like the Professor and Jean. Two people who loved him and cared for him. Made him feel important. Made him feel secure.

But after a while, the thought would creep in. The thought.

The thought…the fact that it should be three. He had a son once. A baby.

No.

Cyclops took another sip.

He has a son.

He has a son. And he loves him.

Scott gulped down his water. It was like swallowing rocks.

Scott had two sons. In his mind. In his heart. Cable and baby Nathan. No matter how he tried to fool himself, he knew they were two separate people.

One of them he looked out for and watched grow up in the far future with Jean. He was so proud of the man Cable grew up to be despite all the adversity he faced in his painful life.

Ugh. Just the thought of his son having such a painful life was the worst stabbing pain any parent could experience. But he would bear it. Scott felt selfish admitting any pain. Internal or otherwise. After all Cable had been through. After all that he had failed to shield Cable from. What right did Scott have to talk about hurt and pain?

He failed one son. He failed Cable.

His other son? Baby Nathan?
He lost him.

Failing a child is the worst thing a parent can do. Losing a child is the worst thing a parent can endure.

Scott's old one eye saw both.

When he gave baby Nathan to the Askani…she was right. He never did see him again. He saw the man he would grow to be. But that wasn't Nathan. That wasn't his baby. That wasn't the baby he held in his arms. The little tyke that would reach out with his stubby baby fingers and try to grab his visor. Kid was obsessed with trying to take it off him.

More ways than one.

Cyclops chuckled.

"Forgive me, Scott. I did not anticipate you would find humor in splitting the field teams," the Professor said.

"…I…" Scott looked around awkwardly.

Bishop folded his arms. Storm cocked an eyebrow.

Scott… Jean telepathically whispered.

"…Sorry, sir," Scott said.

I'm fine, Jean. Really. I'm fine.

Jean bit her lip.

"No need for apology, son…" the Professor smiled reassuringly at Scott. "As we have discussed over the past several weeks, it is my goal to expand the Xavier Institute to provide greater access for mutants across the nation, and eventually, the world. God willing…"

I know it hurts, Scott. And I know you don't want to think about it so I won't push. But it's healthy to feel what you are feeling. Cyclops is a wonderful person. He endures and endures despite insurmountable odds. Cyclops is a great man.

Jean squeezed his hand.

But right now, with…Nathan…the worst thing you can do is be Cyclops in your own heart. Please, Scott, don't try to just go through the pain. There's a reason the pain resurfaces again and again after all these years. It's not an optic blast. You don't have to hold it back. You can share it with your family. Your friends. Your wife. We're here for you. Always. When you're ready.

Scott smiled at his wife.

"…And part of that expansion is maintaining a field team presence at each campus. Starting the fall semester, under Emma's request, we will open the rebranded Xavier Massachusetts Academy, and open the doors in San Francisco to Utopia: Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters, as well as continuing operations as usual here in Westchester. The Red team will serve as the field team for Utopia, comprised of Phoenix, Gambit, Rogue, and Psylocke, led by Cyclops. The Gold team will be the field team in New York, comprised of Wolverine, Nightcrawler, Colossus, and Shadowkat, led by Storm. And lastly…"

The Professor turned to Bishop. "…The Blue team will serve as the field team for the Massachusetts Academy, comprised of Emma, Beast, Archangel, Iceman, and Jubilee, with Bishop leading."

Bishop stiffened like a board and saluted the Professor. "Sir…I…thank you for the opportunity, but I am not worthy. Any of the other X-Men you mentioned would be more deserving."

"At ease, son. This is not simply an opportunity. It is an achievement. You have earned this consideration for your years of courage and valor. Your experience leading the XSE and successful integration into this unfamiliar time for you have been nothing short of exemplary."

Bishop was well over six feet. Well over two hundred pounds. Guy was built like a tank. But for that moment, his doe-eyed response said only one thing. For the first time maybe in his whole life, Bishop was a child again. It was genuinely beautiful. Never in a million years did Scott think he would ever say that about a grown man, least of all Bishop. But it was.

"I…sir…I am afraid you are mistaken. There is still so much more about your culture and time that I do not know. Ask Storm. I do not wish to disgrace you," Bishop said.

Storm put her hand on his shoulder. "Do not let my teasing sway your confidence. I would not assume you to be intimidated so easily."

"Think of it as a chance to grow. A mission. There's a lot of good you can do. We all believe in you, Lucas," Jean said.

"I'm just looking forward to you putting that chokehold on someone else for a change," Scott said.

Bishop laughed.

"Please consider it, son. You have the most to give and the most to gain. Think about it. For now, the Red Team will go into Manhattan to attend A Street Car Named Desire." The Professor said.

"It's Rio Vaughn's first performance since outing himself as a mutant. And he specifically invited the X-Men as his private guests," Jean said.

"Jean and I sense he could be in grave danger. Be on your guard. Meanwhile the Blue team will have a scrimmage against the Gold team in the Danger Room," the Professor said.

"I'll brief the others," Scott said.

The professor motioned for the open doorway. Bishop leaned beside his mentor.

"…May I ask, sir? Was I your first choice?" Bishop said.

"We considered all the X-Men. Seniority was given initially to those who had led in the past. However, both Kurt and Anna declined due to the pressure of leadership. Understandably so. After an evaluation of the others, your peers voted you for the position, three-zero."

"So much for the secret ballot, eh, Professor?" Jean nudged the Professor.

"The position is yours to take, my friend," Storm said.

"And you won't be alone. Any time you need guidance or have a question, Ororo and I are always here for you," Scott said.

"Leadership did not come easily at first for me, Lucas. It is a journey," Storm said.

"One best with friends and family at your side," Jean added.

"I learned that particular lesson, on reflection, later than I should. I have grown in ways I never imagined at a time when I thought I was grown already. We are all excited for you to take the same journey, Bishop," Storm said.

"Your sentiment is shared, Ms. Monroe…"

The Danger Room doors slammed shut.

"…For I must embark on the same journey, and lead the X-Men."

That voice!

Where?

Cyclops swiveled his head. Storm, Bishop, and Jean readied in battle stances.

"Exodus! Show yourself!" Scott yelled.