Kurt didn't have to read the white piece of paper taped to the door of the room he and Sonya used for fencing practice to know what it said. She had bailed on every practice session they had scheduled for the last three weeks—ever since returning from Hawaii. He thought hard about the last time he had seen or talked to her. It had to be the glimpse he had caught of her right before he left for the school alone. They had not spoken since the night before—that night. He sighed as he pulled the note off the door and crumpled the piece of paper in his hand.
Should I try to talk to her about it or just let sleeping dogs lie and hope things work themselves out? Not that he considered his teammate a dog. No, far from it.
At the same time Kurt was contemplating his predicament, the object of his quandary was working on one of her own. She sat behind Hank and Cecilia staring into a large computer screen that displayed Dr. Reed Richards AKA Mister Fantastic of the Fantastic Four and Dr. Quinton Lorenz—a top research scientist for S.H.I.E.L.D. They were discussing the clones that had been found in Hawaii—something they had been doing for three weeks.
"We have run every possible test. The clones are physically comparable to any other human on the planet with the exception of their brains, but they are not truly…alive. They breathe, their hearts beat, but without their creator, they are inanimate. They can't think on their own; they can't act on their own. Their brains barely handle the involuntary functions of their bodies and then for only short periods of time. We have already had one subject expire due to being outside of their life-support capsule for too long," Dr. Lorenz stated.
"Dr. McCoy, how has the education program gone?" Dr. Richards asked.
"No progress. They seem incapable of learning. Their brains seem to be incapable of storing information. Our telepaths were unable to pick up any thoughts from their minds and they register no brainwaves."
"And how long did the one subject last outside of the life-support capsule?"
"Three days," the S.H.I.E.L.D. scientist answered.
"We estimate that their bodies will no longer function even with the aid of their life-support capsules within two months," Hank said.
"Seems pretty grim. I don't think there is anything that can be done for them," Dr. Richards uttered.
"Agreed. S.H.I.E.L.D. is recommending termination. We will handle disposal of the bodies," Dr. Lorenz informed them.
"Very well. I will let you know when my test subject is ready for transport," Dr. Richards stated. "Thank you, gentlemen. Richards out." Dr. Richards image went dark.
"Same here," Hank said.
"Thank you, Dr. McCoy." The S.H.I.E.L.D. transmission ended.
Hank pressed the button to end the video conference on their end. He looked at Cecilia, then Sonya. The Romanian's face was stone.
"So that's it?! Just set her in a corner and watch her die?!" Sonya launched into Hank.
"Sonya, I know you spent a lot of time with the clone trying to teach it, but, please, calm down," he told her.
"Calm down? Calm down?" Her voice rose with each word. "And she's a 'she' not an 'it'! I need some air!" She removed her lab coat and attempted to hang it on a hook on the wall, but missed. She let it tumble to the floor and stormed out the door.
She admonished herself as she strode away from the lab. What is wrong with me? Why do I care about this—this clone? She is nothing! She's not even really alive! Why are all these emotions seething inside me? For so long, all I felt was anger and hate and now that I'm free and in America, I'm overwhelmed by all these other emotions. I have allowed myself to get attached to too many others. I have got to get my feelings in check.
Out of his bedroom window, Kurt spotted a figure scaling the school's wall. He couldn't see enough detail as the form moved in and out of the artificial lighting to discern who it was, but doubted they posed a threat. It was probably just one of the students getting some exercise.
But, just in case, he teleported to the spot on the rafter where the mystery figure would breach the roof. As the person drew closer, he could make out a feminine silhouette carrying a backpack slung over one shoulder. The female was free climbing, picking her way rather quickly up the building. She wore pants and shirt of all black with a hoodie pulled over her head. He thought he saw strands of dark hair protruding from underneath the hood. As she closed the gap between them, he decided it was Sonya. Once she was within earshot, he asked if she would like a hand and bent down to offer it.
"Nu," she mumbled. She reached the summit and hoisted herself up and over the edge with ease.
"Guten Abend, fräulein," he said once she was standing erect on the building's summit.
She said nothing but bent down placing her rucksack on the roof's surface and unzipped it. She pulled out a blanket and spread it out. She sat down and extracted two beers wrapped in cloth from her pack. She placed one on the blanket beside her. She opened the other and took a long drink, then leaned back on her elbows. Kurt took up a seat alongside her and opened the other bottle. She pushed the hoodie off her head.
"Meteor shower tonight," she muttered, looking up at the heavens. He followed her gaze. The night sky was crystal clear. They remained silent for several minutes watching the light show above them.
Breaking the quiet, she finally said, "My father used to take the family camping in the woods far away from the lights of the village on nights of meteor showers."
"It must have been lovely," he replied.
"Da. We would have a fire and hot chocolate and stay up late watching the shower." A streak of light blazed over their heads. "We would tell stories, sing and enjoy being together."
"You miss your family?"
She shrugged. "Sometimes. Everyone is different now. My brother and sisters have grown up without me. And…I am different."
After a momentary pause, she spoke again, "My father taught me all the constellations. That one is Cassiopeia and that one is Orion." She pointed to each star cluster in turn. She took another deep draft from her bottle.
"Something seems to be troubling you…more than missing home."
She sighed deeply. "Dr. McCoy and I had…a disagreement."
"Oh?"
"I am not good with ethics…or theology."
"Maybe I can help. I studied to be a priest once."
She gave him a quizzical sideways glance. "You truly amaze me, Nightcrawler. The only person on Earth who can surprise me." Her gaze returned to the skies as several small streaks of light danced overhead.
"Well, 'Father', I seek guidance." She waited for him to respond.
"Yes, my child, on what do you seek this guidance?"
"Dr. McCoy, Dr. Reed Richards and S.H.I.E.L.D. have been studying the clones from Paradise. They have now decided that they have learned all they can from them. So, they plan to let Elle—the clone we have here at the school—and the others die…or 'expire' as they so politely put it. Just take her out of her stasis pod and let her slowly fade away."
"I can't believe Henry would agree to that if it wasn't for the best. Perhaps she is suffering?"
"We do not know if she suffers or feels pain or anything for that matter. I don't even know why I'm having a problem with this. She was created by a mutant, not God. She has no brainwaves, no soul. None of the telepaths can read her nor can I. She can't eat, speak, walk or do anything on her own. She's incapable of learning. She'll never have a real life. She'll just stay in that stasis pod until her body deteriorates…but, is it right for us to speed that deterioration? Her body contains the spark of life—well, a spark of life. I suppose it's not the same spark as we who have souls..."
He cringed, barely noticeably, as his shame washed over him. Some of us have souls…
"…but that spark will slowly diminish none the less when we remove her from the pod. One minute she's breathing; the next that breath stops forever. Do we as mortals have the right to make the decision as to when that breath stops? Is it not still murder?"
"Just playing devil's advocate, but, as you said, she wasn't created by God; she was created by another mortal. So, do God's laws apply to her? Is she not just an empty vessel?"
The words 'empty vessel' rang in Sonya's ears—the same words she had heard in her vision. Was it just coincidence?
Kurt continued unaware of the cord he had struck. "She will never have a life outside the stasis pod. If she could speak, do you think that is what she would want?"
She took the last drink of her beer and inhaled deeply, considering his question just as deeply. "Nu…It is not what I would want. I suppose they are right. It's probably best to let her go. I suppose I should go apologize."
"Never apologize for empathy for another being."
"Thank you, 'Father'. I feel better now." She sat up. He followed suit.
"About everything?"
"Ce?" She looked at him sharply.
"Some seem to think we have been avoiding each other since we returned from Paradise."
"I see you have been talking to Rachel."
"Henry actually."
"I…we both have been busy."
"And that is why I haven't seen you in three weeks?"
"It seemed appropriate to spend time apart after being together constantly for three days."
"I see. And it has nothing to do with our kiss?"
She rose and grabbed her rucksack. She placed her empty bottle in it and threw it over her shoulder. Walking towards the roof's edge and not looking back at her companion, she said, "We were just fooling around. It meant nothing. I'll see you at fencing practice tomorrow." She started her descent.
Their practice session the next day was awkward. The distance between them never varied. If one advanced, the other retreated. Neither desired to be within less than a sword's length proximity to the other. All the protective gear added to the feeling of disconnection. Their conversation was scant, kept to a few instructions from Kurt and acknowledgement from Sonya. They were both left feeling out of sync and disconcerted. The joy and camaraderie that usually filled their sessions were lost.
Once practice concluded, Sonya packed her things and started for the door, but stopped abruptly. She turned back to face her mentor.
"You'll probably find this absurd, but will you say a few words when the time comes…for Elle?" she asked quietly. She stared down at the floor. "Not last rights or anything like that."
"Of course, I'll come up with something."
"Thank you, 'Father'." She turned to leave.
"Sonya, why do you call her Elle?"
She remained with her back to him, staring at the exit. "Her stasis pod was number 12, so the twelfth letter of the alphabet 'L' or Elle. I know what it's like to be just a number. I thought she at least deserved a name." She left him alone with his thoughts.
And how would you feel if you knew the man you were asking to say a prayer for a dying, soulless woman was soulless as well? Would it change how you feel towards me?
Elle remained in the stasis pod, but the container's food and fluid processors were shut off. A white sheet was draped over the receptacle during the waiting period. The clone breathed her last three days after the processors were turned off.
Sonya sent word to Kurt to let him know S.H.I.E.L.D. would be picking up the body for disposal that afternoon. He came to fulfill his promise as soon as he was free. He found her in the lab preparing the pod for pick-up. She ceased her work when he entered.
"Thank you," she told him as he approached.
"I have been trained to perform such duties, but I always hoped I would never have to undertake them. But, more and more, loss is something we cannot avoid. As X-Men, we too often lose those close to us. The hardest part is learning to live on without them. So, if you ever need to talk, know that I am here."
"I am alright. She wasn't friend or family, just another poor creature placed on this Earth for a short time. I have my emotions back under control."
"'Blessed are those who mourn, for they shall be comforted.'"
Kurt opened the Bible in his hand and started reading: "'For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven: a time to be born, and a time to die; a time to plant, and a time to pluck up what is planted…'"
The tension between the duo eased as the days passed. Sonya apologized to Hank and they returned to their pre-clone working terms—she kept him fed and he allowed her to remain in the lab. Life returned to a modicum of normality.
For her approaching birthday, Rachel decided she wanted a Ladies' Night Out at a club in the city. Ororo and Sonya took some convincing to get them to agree to attend, but after some heavy duty nagging from Rachel and Angelica about how neither left the school much, the roster soon included Ororo, Sonya, Angelica, Warbird, Betsy and Rachel.
On the appointed night of the party, Kurt, Hank and Bobby waited to see their female brethren off. Each woman that entered the foyer was dressed to kill and as lovely as the one that had arrived before her. The men offered several times to act as chaperones, but were rebuffed each time.
"Tonight is ladies only!" Rachel stated. Once all the women were gathered in the foyer, Rachel turned to Warbird and stated, "I said no weapons."
Warbird smirked then pulled a dagger from the top of her pants that had been hidden by her jacket. Rachel accepted the blade and handed it to Hank. She then moved to Sonya, holding her palm out towards the woman. Sonya pulled a small knife from inside of each of her boots and laid them on the outreached hand. Rachel handed these to Kurt.
"Would you guys mind seeing these blades returned to their rightful owners tomorrow?" The men assented.
"I feel naked," Sonya mumbled.
"You of all people will know if there is going to be trouble and can warn us."
"But, you and most of the others are always armed. There is no leaving your powers behind."
"We will be fine. We are going to have fun, not start a war. Anyone else?" Rachel surveyed the line of women. If any more hidden weapons remained, no one fessed up.
The women were immediately allowed entry into the club.
"What is K-A-R-A-O-K-E?" Sonya asked seeing a sign that pointed to a stair case near the entrance to the club.
"You get up on stage and sing along to canned music," Angelica explained.
"Hmm…I think I will investigate." Sonya separated from the group and climbed the stairs.
The rest of the group found a table in a dark corner of the club. They were almost immediately surrounded by a pack of male suitors.
Ororo offered to remain at the table and watch over the others' personal belongings. The other women each chose a man and took to the dance floor.
How can they stand this? It is so loud and crowded, Ororo wondered.
She did not find herself alone for very long as Sonya returned from signing up for karaoke. She took the only remaining empty seat at the table. She removed her heavy cotton jacket and draped it over her chair.
"So, little sister, anything new about your future mission?" Ororo asked raising her voice above the music.
Sonya slid down to a seat next to her leader, so she could be heard.
"Only three words. Seeker and empty vessel. I do not know what they mean. And…I cannot see anything past this vision. It's like there is no future past this mission."
"It must be a very important mission indeed."
"Or my last."
"I do not believe that. You and Kurt work well together. You will be successful in your mission. And the X-Men will stand with both of you."
"Then why can't I see past this vision?"
"Perhaps the outcome will greatly affect your future. Until the mission is complete, the future is uncertain."
"I hope so."
"Would either of you lovely ladies like to dance?" a tall man with brown hair slicked back with gel and piercing blue eyes asked.
"You're up. I'll watch the stuff," Sonya told her companion.
Ororo reluctantly agreed and walked with the man to the dance floor.
After dancing through two songs, she returned to find Betsy now guarding the table and only the jacket remained of the Romanian.
Hawkeye approached the club. The music was loud even outside the club. He was incognito trading his uniform for jeans, a black T-shirt, black leather jacket and his trademark purple-hued glasses. Upon examining the crowd, he wondered how he would ever find his target, but then, the X-Women stood out from a crowd. As he neared the line to get into the club he heard: "Hey! Good looking!"
He turned and saw a dark haired woman leaned against the wall of the club. "I'm sorry. I'm meeting some—"
As the woman moved closer, he realized it was the person for which he was looking. "Hey, that was a pretty good American accent," he told her.
"Thanks, I've been practicing."
"So, what brings a nice boy like you out to a place like this?"
"You. We need to talk. Somewhere quieter."
She turned and started towards the club's side alley. "Skin," she called back to him as he moved his hand towards the middle of her back. The removal of her jacket had revealed a sleeveless black top that plunged in the front and rear. Her long black curls covered most of the scars on her back.
Yeah, a lot of it, he thought.
Once they reached the alley, they faced each other. He got right to the point. "S.H.I.E.L.D. wants you to come in for a dialogue."
"Interrogation you mean."
"They think you are some mercenary called The Dark Lady."
"I see…"
"They talked to a guy called Koulakova—"
"And he fed them lots of lies."
"Yes, but Widow has a way of getting to the truth. We know that he forced you to work for him."
"Widow. Should have known."
"They just want some information. They wanted to pick you up at the school, but I told them it could lead to a battle between the X-Men and S.H.I.E.L.D. and nobody wants that. I came to talk you into turning yourself in peacefully."
"And how did you know I was here?"
"A group of beautiful female superheroes in a club hardly goes unnoticed." He tapped the phone in his jacket pocket.
"The Tweeter again."
"Twitter."
"Whatever. I'm sorry, but I can't turn myself in right now. I have had a vision of an important mission that I must complete. It's the reason I came to America and joined the X-Men."
"This won't take long. Just come with me and answer a few questions."
"It will take longer than you think."
"Look, they mainly just want to know about some guy named Turov."
He watched as every muscle in the woman's body tensed. Before his eyes, she transformed into a deadly coiled snake ready to strike. "Tell S.H.I.E.L.D. that if they try to take me in, there will be war!" She turned to leave.
He took the only action he could think of to diffuse the situation, he grabbed her bare arm. As his skin touched hers, he heard her sudden intake of air. He felt the muscles in her arm relax. She turned back to him and he placed his free hand on her other arm.
"You—you fought Fury for me. You threatened to quit. You don't believe the things they said about me."
"I don't believe you are a killer. I've known a lot of killers in my life and you don't have the personality."
"Clint, I've committed a lot of sins for which I will have to pay."
"So you know my real name?"
"Price you pay for touching me."
"Well, I learned the 'S' stands for Sonya."
"Widow is such a good little spy."
"Look, we've all got demons in our past. Just turn yourself in. I'll stand by your side. I'll be right there with you."
"Nu. I must face my demons alone. I don't want you involved."
"Sonya, I'm no angel. I have done things, too. Nothing is going to change the way I feel about you."
"I need time—the mission."
"How much?"
"Two months at the most. Can you convince Fury to wait that long? If I promise to turn myself in and guarantee no retribution from the X-Men?"
"I think I can buy you two months."
"Thank you. Well, it's almost my turn at the Karaoke, so I'd better get back."
They walked back to the front of the club. "So…can I come in with you?"
"Probably not a good idea. Warbird is on the hunt for a man and she would eat you alive."
"But, you'd protect me, right?"
"Not a chance."
He leaned in to kiss her. She took a step back.
"Not a good idea."
"Why not?"
"I—I see lots of other women in your life."
"It's complicated."
"It always is. And you don't need me making it even more complicated. Things are going to get rocky. You need to distance yourself from me. Goodnight, Mr. Barton. Oh and during your next mission, take out the opponent on the right first."
She went back into the club and returned to the table to find Ororo and Rachel seated this time.
Ororo asked, "Has anyone seen Warbird?"
Sonya reached out with her powers through the gyrating, crowded club to locate her target. "Oh! You do not want to know! That is an image that will be hard to get out of my head!" When the waitress appeared, she ordered a strong drink.
The next morning Hank and Kurt crossed paths in one of the school's many halls and stopped to converse.
"The women are still not up?" Hank asked.
"Nein. They must have had a really good time last night."
They spotted Bobby coming down the hall with a bongo strapped around his neck.
"The girls up yet?" he asked. He was informed they weren't. "I'll wake them up." He started towards the women's dormitories.
"Bobby, that's not a good idea," Hank warned him.
The young man did not stop, so the others followed to watch the show.
Once outside what he knew was Angelica's room, he started beating his bongo and singing at the top of his lungs.
It took a couple of minutes for Angelica's window to open and her head to appear. Her hair was a mess and she was clutching her robe closed. She didn't appear well.
"Bobby, so help me, I will melt you down to a puddle!" she screamed, then regretted it after her head pounded harder.
A window on the second floor opened. A dagger flew out and struck the bongo an inch from Bobby's hand. The window shut again.
"Wow! Hung over and Sonya's still a perfect shot," commented Hank.
"Unless she was aiming for his head," added Kurt. "That reminds me…I need to give her back her two daggers."
Bobby stared nervously at the knife stuck in the drum. "Please…not until after she is in a better mood."