Disclaimer: I do not own X-Men, Emily Rachery or Robi Wexler.
Robi Wexler, or, as he was more commonly known, Lectric, settled into his battle stance, a fork shoved into the nearest outlet. He touched the fork, electricity flowing through him. He shuddered. The feeling of new electricity in him could almost be compared to sexual pleasure in its ability to touch every nerve ending he had. His hair stood on end, and he gathered a ball of energy in his hands. He crouched down, and waited. The first mutant broke through the nearby window moments later. He snuffed out their life, thinking no second thoughts. How dare they encroach on his territory? Sure, he didn't live at the mansion anymore, but he was still an X-Man. This was still his turf, and he would still slaughter anyone who stepped on his turf that wasn't welcome.
The next two jumped in behind their buddy, looking for the source of trouble. Lectric harnessed the power of static electricity and bound them to the metal refrigerator. He stood up straight, giving them slight smirks. He jolted both of them with eighty milliamps of power, watching them slide to the floor. He walked back to his hiding spot and crouched once more, waiting for another opponent.
Behind his façade of battle resolve, a lesson he had learnt through many fights and missions, he was worried that he would lose his grip and go crazy from worried. One of his best friends, his little sister, of sorts, was down in the medbay, and he didn't know if she was okay, not to mention Alyssa was there as well. His friends were possibly injured and there was a chance they were fatally hurt. He clenched his teeth, and sent his jaw flying into the face of a mutant, trying to cover his pain with the pain of another.
XXX
Colossus grabbed the two heads of the two nearest Brotherhood mutants and clonked their noggins together. He picked up one of the limp bodies and tossed it into a group of five others that were rushing him. He sheathed his body in metal when a vase, thrown by a telekinetic, came flying towards him. It shattered against his body and he used that mutant to throw at two others that tried to advance with some sneakiness.
He fought with unusual fierceness. Colossus had never been one to needlessly kill or injure further than a simple knock-out hit, but these men were dangerously close to where his wife was. He loved Kitty with all of his heart, soul and mind. He would do anything for her, and stay by her side through all troubles. Being away from her was torture. He wanted to know how she was doing. If she was hurting, he needed to be there to wrap her in his arms and to take care of her. He needed to do that. It physically hurt him to be away from her.
However, he was wise for someone his age. He knew that Kitty was needed downstairs, in a possibly vulnerable position if someone got through their barricade and found the way to the sub-basements. She could be in serious trouble with three people to protect and only her powers. The part that still remained Piotr, even in battle, knew she was strong. He admired her ability to keep her head high, and often wished he was more like her. He loved her for her persistence, but it was part of who he was to worry for her and to want to take care of her. Most of the time, she allowed him to, even though she could take care of herself. She allowed him to protect her because it was important to him.
Now, they were separated, and he had no way of knowing if she needed his help. He was stuck in this battle, doing what he could to protect the school he loved so much and the people he swore to guard, while his wife could be dying.
XXX
Angel flapped his wings, gracefully ascending into the rafters. He waited with baited breath as Brotherhood mutants walked underneath him, looking through rooms and closets, trying to find Pyro. He was normally very calm and clear-thinking, but all he could think about was how violating this was, to have these evildoers walking on almost sacred ground. He turned at a small whisper and saw Nightcrawler standing there, obviously wondering what their joint plan should be.
Quickly, Angel made gestures, trying to explain his idea as best as he could without words. Nightcrawler gave him a nod, and they sprung into action. Angel dropped onto the ground, slowed by his wings, and engaged the five mutants in physical, hand-to-hand combat while Nightcrawler BAMFed hither and thither, distracting them. Several minutes passed by, and though they were outnumbered, Angel and Nightcrawler managed to knock all five mutants unconscious. Angel dragged them into a nearby room and closed the door. They would be out and in pain for a while, so he wasn't too worried.
He didn't leave that area, though, and didn't take the chance.
Angel flew back up into the rafters, Nightcrawler appearing beside him as they waited for the next group.
XXX
"John?" Emily's voice asked tentatively.
John blinked several more times before gasping in pain, his feet and hands seeming to be on fire. Which was ironic. But it was a figure of speech! "Yeah, Emily?" He asked, trying to ignore the terrifying memories of the bathtub with freezing water.
"… Nothing." She finally decided, still holding his hand, as if she didn't notice. John decided against telling her. "I'm glad you're awake. You scared me."
"Really?" John's voice took on a seductive quality. "You were worried about me?"
"Well, yes, of… no! Well, I was, but!" Emily sputtered, completely embarrassed.
Kitty then decided to appear with more blankets, and compresses to replace the cooling ones on John's body. She gave him a disapproving look. "John, wait until you get out of bed to try to get Emily into it, okay?" She smiled winningly at the embarrassed feline girl. "Now, John, I'm just going to replace those warm compresses on you, okay?"
"Okay." He watched her distrustfully. He didn't think he'd ever like doctors again, not that he ever had in the first place. They always asked dumb questions and made you do dumb things. John just wasn't a fan of the dumb.
Kitty gently pulled back the covers, keeping him as covered as possible as she quickly and professionally (well, for the most part; she had to nearly touch his groin when he wasn't unconscious, and so he was looking away awkwardly, a fierce blush staining his cheeks) changed his compresses. She gave him a small smile when she was finished, and left the two to do some more chart work and to leave extensive notes for Hank, so he might pick up easily where she left off.
Emily had stopped holding his hand when she stepped back because Kitty needed room, but she resumed her bedside vigil. She didn't replace her hand, still blushing from the fact she'd almost seen his pubic area. The thought didn't particularly interest her. In fact, it would almost disgust (more like frighten) her, if it wasn't such a natural part of a human being.
John looked up at her from where he was lying, simply watching her face. She had found a stool and was perched atop it, her face downcast. Her hands were clasped together as she fought for control of herself. She looked so small and frail, that if he was too rough with her, if he yelled too loudly, or if he grabbed her arm with too much strength, she'd completely shatter and be gone forever. She was the only one who ever seemed to understand him, though they hardly spoke about their past lives or any other deep things that best friends spoke about. They were just best friends because through the worst of it, he knew she would never leave him in the dirt and in the cold, and she knew he would be standing between her and that bullet in an instant. He could take physical pain. He was used to it. The one thing he didn't think he'd be able to survive again was shutting himself away from her.
He would survive if the world didn't care about him. It didn't, anyway. He would survive if he was beaten into a pulp and tossed into the mud. He would survive if he were to be stripped of all pride, dignity and honor. If he still had Emily to pick him up when he fell, when the world tossed him aside, if he still had her to cover up his shame with her beauty… then, he supposed, life wouldn't be too bad after all.
"I'm so glad that we're friends, Emily." John admitted quietly, watching her face as best he could. He reached out with a trembling hand that still burned as feeling returned to his fingers and barely touched her knee. He met her eyes, almost begging her silently to hold his hand again. He needed to touch, he needed to feel… anything. He needed to be sure that she was there, and that she wasn't leaving. He needed to have her hand in his to assure him he wasn't dreaming, and that she was, in fact, all right and not being hurt by Magneto.
Emily blushed when his fingers touched her jean-clad knee. She found his hand and held it between hers, gently massaging it. She blushed when his fingers gently tightened around hers. She smiled at him, meeting his eyes. An odd jolt seemed to ricochet in her stomach and her breathing quickened slightly. She swallowed, but couldn't seem to tear her eyes away from his.
John slowly sat up, though his body protested. He was tired and still cold, though his arms were beginning to burn. He supposed that was good. That didn't make it any easier to sit up. The blankets fell to his waist, thankfully preserving some modesty and dignity on his part. Emily stood up, their hands still joined, protesting about him moving and possibly hurting himself, but he wasn't listening. All he could pay attention to was her pinkish-reddish lips. He tugged on her arm gently, pulling her to the side of the medical table. He forced himself upwards still, his heart hammering, and intended on pressing his lips tenderly against hers. He was so nervous and still quite weak that he missed, only hitting the corner of her mouth.
"Sorry." He muttered, blushing slightly. He quickly amended his mistake by brushing her lips with his, and then, when assured of his accurate aim, joined their lips in a short kiss. It was short because he didn't think he could stand anything more (she had such an effect on him), and because Kitty burst into the room unceremoniously and told him he better lie down.
John let himself fall back into the pillows, staring up at Emily with a faint smile on his lips, before cracking up. She was blushing furiously, and he wondered, assuming by the tentative nature of her kiss, if he had been her first kiss. He wasn't so vain as to think she had been saving it for him, but then a huge wave of guilt struck him.
"Emily… was I your first kiss?" John asked softly, unable to meet her eyes.
She sighed. "Yeah… yeah, you were."
"I'm so sorry, Emily, I didn't mean… if you were saving it for someone else, I'm… oh God, I'm such an asshole…" He trailed off. Great. His one attempt at spontaneous romance exploded back in his face because the girl he was trying to be romantic to had been waiting to give her kiss to someone, not have it taken by a jerk.
"It's okay, John." She touched his hand once more. "Really. It's okay." She was still blushing, and she looked so cute. "Just get some rest. I'll be here when you wake up." She smiled at him, avoiding his eyes in her embarrassment and secret pleasure at their kiss. She took his hand and held it gently, as if sealing her promise.
Not many people promised him many things. The only concrete things he knew was that Magneto was out to get his ass, he could easily be booted from the mansion if he screwed up, and that Emily would be there when he woke up. John Allerdyce had never been a man for 'forever' and 'eternity', and if they didn't end up getting romantically involved, then fine. He could live with that. He just didn't know what he'd do if he woke up and she wasn't there to greet him.
XXX
Cyclops crept along the walls as he entered the mansion, eternally grateful for all of those action flicks he'd watched as a teenager. He had seen a movie, and wondered how the hero had managed to completely turn off all of the lights in the building. He'd looked at the electrical plans for the garage, since he'd seen the power box in there, and found out how to switch several wires so he wouldn't damage the system, but still cause a short circuit. He smirked smugly in the dark as he both turned on his night vision and knew that Wolverine would have only slashed all of the wires, causing expensive damages. Yeah, there was a little bit of male pride there. Was that wrong?
His question would remain unanswered when he heard two distinct sounds. One of them allowed him to discern that the battle had indeed moved upstairs for the most part, save for Lectric zapping his merry heart out in the kitchen. The other told him exactly where Logan was, who was with him, and what was going on. He hurried towards the second sound, knowing Lectric would be absolutely fine on his own. The kid was pretty sharp for one his age, after all.
Cyclops turned the next corner, and came face to face with Magneto's back. Wolverine was levitating in the air, and his adamantium bones were being crushed by the master of magnetism. He was moaning in pain, but he could do nothing. Cyclops suddenly reverted back into simple Scott Summers who was shocked to see the mighty Wolverine so defenseless and vulnerable. He couldn't even blink for another long moment as he watched Logan's entire rib cage get shattered. It was then that he realized where he was, who he was, and the fact Magneto's back was to him.
Cyclops set his visor to a lower setting, one he usually used on hostile teenagers when he was on missions to pick up runaway mutants, mainly to get their attention. He wasn't sure what effect it would have on Magneto, but hopefully, it was enough to piss him off and cover Logan's escape. Cyclops sent the blast flying, flawlessly knocking the elder mutant over and knocking the wind out of him.
"Logan, get your ass out of here." Cyclops ordered, once again completely in control of the situation.
"Thanks Cyke." Logan nodded in gratitude, picking himself up. He cast a glance at Magneto who still hadn't recovered, and then left, flying up the stairs to join the battle, his limbs healing themselves back to perfect working order. His healed bones, with their strength, pushed the adamantium to its previous state: lining his bones flawlessly.
Cyclops moved into the open foyer where Logan and Magneto had been battling. Well, more battling and torturing on Magneto's part, more insult-tossing and colorful expletive creation on Logan's part. He kept his gloved hand on the side of his completely non-metal visor that had served him well when he and Magneto were on opposite sides of the battlefield.
"Why don't you just finish me off now, Scott?" Magneto asked harshly, struggling to his feet.
"You know that's not my way, Erik." Scott replied evenly, in a tone that suggested it should have been obvious. "I never kick a man when he's down, or offer him his darkest temptation to go against everything he has ever believed in." His tone had changed and had taken on his famous dry sarcasm.
"Ah," Erik smiled as he stood up straight, brushing invisible dirt from his clothes. "Touché, I suppose." He manually retrieved six small metal balls from a pocket and allowed them to hover in the air, dancing around each other. "So, how will this go, Cyclops?" His eyebrow arched condescendingly. "Shall we fight till the death or will you admit defeat and hand over Pyro?"
Scott smirked, his hand unmoving from his visor, waiting for Magneto to take the first move. The older man, however, seemed content to bandy sarcasm, insults and condescension for a while. He stood his ground, though his arm ached slightly from holding it up so long.
"Erik, you should know the answer to that. I never hand over one of my students, and I never accept defeat." Scott's answer was quick on his tongue. It was no textbook answer with a robotic undertone. It was a fact of the heart, spoken in passion. It was his duty as an X-Man to protect the school, its inhabitants and his teammates. It was his obligation as a man to give second chances, though the ones he gave them to might not seem deserving. And damn it if he wouldn't end anyone who even looked wrong at his students.
"But Pyro isn't one of your students. He left, if you remember. It was the day Jean Grey died. Being an X-Man and prancing about in leather wasn't good enough for him. He needed more." Erik reminded him lightly, still watching the orbs of metal swirl and spin.
"He came back." Scott reminded Erik in turn, refusing to show emotion at what was obviously a jab to throw him off and make him lose his concentration and focus in the upcoming battle. "He left you and came back to us."
"Oh, he didn't come back to you. He came back for the girl… Emily, is it? It was never about you or Charles or anyone else. It was about her." Magneto waved his hand dismissively. "But I digress. It is boring me to stand here. Let us just get on with the inevitable, shall we?"
Cyclops didn't bother to answer. He had slowly been adjusting his visor beam the entire conversation, narrowing it and increasing the power behind it. He had fine-tuned it when he realized what Magneto was suggesting, and the beam had become only a half-inch wide, but could punch a hole through the wall if he wasn't careful. He pressed the side of his visor as he threw himself to the side, dodging the large sphere of flying metal Magneto sent towards him. He would have landed hard on his side if he hadn't tucked his legs in and curved his side, causing him to roll for a few yards. He stood up, widening his stance for better balance.
He barely had time to recover when the larger sphere divided once more into six parts, and all six of them came at him at once. He blasted one of them, but the other five were quicker than his human ability to react. They smashed into him repeatedly, slamming his ribs, his head, his arms and his legs. He cried out in pain when he heard a snapping sound in his side, and he suddenly couldn't breathe. He fell onto his back, and for a moment, the barrage of metal stopped.
"Oh, Scott. You know I would have spared you if you had joined me when I offered the chance to you." Magneto's voice was full of what might have been genuine sorrow. Scott was too busy breathing to try and decipher the man who was trying to kill him. "Now… I'm sorry, my friend. I must kill you."
Scott attempted to swallow his pain, tried to fight back, but metal coils found their way around his wrists and ankles and tied him to the floor where he laid on his stomach. He craned his neck, able to make eye contact with Magneto, who assumed he'd be killing off Scott Summers that night. Perhaps it was his fighting spirit or his plain stubbornness when it came to dying (which often frustrated his enemies), but Scott wasn't about to give up. He'd live. He would. Stubborn thoughts, indeed.
Stubborn thoughts which quickly were eradicated and shoved out of the way by pain signals running through his brain. He groaned, crying out each time a metal disk sliced into him (what a wonderful change of tactic, I know). He struggled and fought against the metal cuffs that bound him to the floor, but Magneto only tightened them, cutting off the circulation painfully to his hands and feet.
Scott looked around for some way to fight, some way to win. All seemed impossible. He ground his teeth, utterly frustrated. It was one thing to be soundly beaten in a fight. He knew the taste of that, and didn't find it too unpleasing. It meant he still could get better, that there were still limits he hadn't pushed. He didn't like to lose, but he could live with it. However, this… being pummeled and sliced to death when he couldn't fight back was the worst. He roared suddenly, pulling even harder against his restraints that only seemed to get more painful. As they cut into his skin, he hissed.
"Scott, what will become of them? What will become of the students without you? What will become of the X-Men? What will become of Charles?" Magneto asked. "I will find your students, and they will be wiped out or they will join me. I cannot have X-brats running around and ruining my plans. As for the X-Men, they will be destroyed, of course." Erik took a delicious pause before continuing his mental torture. "And as for Charles… he will live out the rest of his days, lonely and terrified that one day I will come and take away the only thing he has left: his life. I would never, for even I still have one boundary I will cross, and that is to harm my old friend."
"You bastard." Scott spat, though his anger was somewhat dissolved when the spheres of metal continued to attack him mercilessly. "You will never touch those kids, and you will never come near Charles or anyone else." He fought to maintain control of himself. He would do no one good if he continued to yell like some frantic lunatic during their first time in battle. He had to find control once more. He had to become Cyclops. Scott was too emotionally involved, and he was easy prey for Magneto to emotionally torture.
Cyclops distanced himself from the battle, and looked at his options, which were few. The first was he could stop struggling and hope his death was quick and painless. He could continue struggling as he was, hoping to break free of his metal bonds. The first two options were not ideal to an X-Man, so he continued analyzing the situation. He would not simply give up and hope, and the methods he had been trying were not working. Therefore, it was time for a new plan. He just needed to blast Magneto into oblivion, but his visor was on and he didn't have an extra arm for emergencies.
Cyclops let out a last grunt when a ball drove the base of his spine. He, bleeding and broken, seemed completely out of options. He was suddenly filled with fear because he hadn't had that much time to find out if his beliefs in God and Jesus were true or worth the effort. He didn't know where he would go if he died, and not being sure and not being in control of his fate terrified him. He inwardly prayed, wondering if God would desert him in his time of trouble, for a solution. He leaned his face against the ground, not having the energy left to continue on. He wasn't giving up; his body was. His visor tapped against the floor. The solution hit him, and without a second thought, Scott bashed his face into the floor, putting significant force into attempting to smash the ruby-quartz that now protected Magneto from death.
It didn't work. He frantically hit his visor against the ground, ignoring the jarring to his head and neck, waiting for it to snap. He roared in anger, driving his face into the floor. While he was sure he had given himself a bloody nose in the process, his visor finally snapped enough for the ruby-quartz lenses to become dislodged on one eye. He kept his eyes firmly shut until he was sure his face was towards Magneto.
"I'm sorry, Erik." Scott whispered before he opened his eyes.
His blasts exploded from his eyes, but they didn't destroy everything in their path and punch a hole through the mansion. Scott hadn't kept his eyes open long enough to see the damage, but he didn't hear any screams or sounds of things falling. The only sound he heard was the dull thump Erik Lensherr's lifeless body made when it came into contact with the floor.
Scott wasn't sure how long he listened to the battle raging on an upper floor, or how hard he struggled at the metal that contained his feet and hands. He gave up after a few moments, though he exerted much effort. His wrists were already contused and slightly cut open. Warm blood trickled from several lacerations on his back that were extremely painful, and he was sure in the fact that at least two ribs were cracked. The rest of his body was bruised badly, but other than that and a slight concussion, he was okay. His heart bled for the loss of such a brilliant mind as Erik Lensherr's, though the man had been slightly twisted in his thoughts. He was still a genius.
"Scott!" Logan's voice had never brought him such relief.
"Logan, help me." Scott muttered, glad he had not heard any feet approaching. If he had heard someone coming towards him, that meant he had an audience. "I can't get up, and I need my glasses."
"Okay, hold on. Lay still." Logan covered Scott's arm with his hand and cut away the metal carefully, freeing Scott's right hand. He did the same for the left, and both feet. He helped Scott to his feet. "Tell me what the hell happened as we go downstairs." Logan kept an arm around his teammate, just to assure the other man he was still there.
"Magneto managed to get me down by hitting me with metal balls, and then restrained me. I couldn't move or fight back, so I kept slamming my visor into the ground to try and break something. I did so, and… then… I'm not sure what happened. My blasts didn't destroy anything. They just… killed Magneto, but left his body." Scott leaned heavily on Logan, not sure he would be able to support himself. "I think it's a belated shift in my mutation, but I'm not going to try and see if it's permanent. If it is, then I'll find out next time I fight, but if not, then I'm glad. We have something to bury." He admitted with a sigh as they stepped into an elevator. "How is everyone?"
"Robi got a nice cut in his leg, but Hank's treatin' him right now. Everyone else is all right, except Angel Boy's crying because someone grabbed a fistful of his feathers. 'Ro's up there comforting him while I'm stuck with you." Logan said gruffly, but Scott didn't miss how Logan's arm tightened protectively around him. Scott wasn't one for showing emotion to other men, or letting anyone else take care of him, but he appreciated the gesture and relaxed.
"Warren wouldn't cry." Scott defended his friend. "You're just jealous because your girlfriend isn't tending and fussing over you."
"You're lucky your pansy ass already got beat, or I'd be doing it right now." Logan snapped, leading Scott down the hall to the medlab. "Asshole."
"Wow," Scott muttered. "That's special. I feel loved."
"Kitty, we've got another patient." Logan shouted as they entered the medlab.
Emily looked up quickly and shushed him, pointing down to a sleeping John. "Keep it down. He was really tired…" She trailed off, blushing as Logan sniffed the air and could decipher what had gone on. She, being feline herself, knew the powerful effects hormones had on a person's scent when something sexual had happened. For some people, the smell became prominent only after intercourse, but in her case, she had never experienced kissing of any sort before, so her hormones were thrown into overdrive.
However, Scott could only wait to be helped to a bed. "A little help here, Logan? Come on." He complained, tempted to kick Logan because the Wolverine would never hurt an injured teammate.
"Just get some sleep, damn it. And don't die on me." Logan said gruffly as he helped Scott to one of the beds when Kitty finally arrived from checking on Alyssa. "The kid's a hero. Take care of him." Logan squeezed Scott's shoulder, and then left to find his girlfriend. Scott, since his eyes were closed, didn't see and never would hear of the look on Logan's face. It was one of sheer admiration.
XXX
Charles Xavier arrived back at the mansion several days later to a manageable level of damages and repairs that needed to be done, having been informed of what had taken place at his school. His heart had hammered with fear and worry the entire jet flight home, for Warren had been kind enough to loan his private jet (and several million dollars in hush-hush bribe money to use the airport that no one had given or accepted… of course not) to get the Professor home before the airports in Ukraine were opened for public business. He had remained calm on the phone with Logan, the only one in any shape to be making calls, but wondered in agony over his questions: Who had been hurt? Were all of the students all right? Had Alyssa, Emily and John made it home safe?
"Hello Bobby." The Professor greeted the man who had been elected to wait at the airport with one of the cars that had survived the Brotherhood attack. "Are you all right?" He asked in concern.
"Yes, sir, I'm completely fine. Robi was hurt, but now he's well enough to complain up a storm. Logan got a couple bruises, but I think he's better now," Bobby quipped, and the Professor laughed as Bobby pulled out of the parking lot. "Scott got a little messed up, but he took on Magneto."
Charles' heart nearly stopped. Scott was alive, that meant… "Sir, Magneto didn't survive." Professor Xavier sighed, and Bobby glanced back in the rearview mirror.
"He and I had been friends for a long time, but he went a wrong way. That doesn't mean his passing doesn't leave a mark I will never forget, but he is no longer tortured by painful memories." Charles managed to reply smoothly, though his voice broke only once. Erik had once explained those memories to him. Xavier would never admit it, but Erik had every reason to be bitter and to have the motivations he had.
"You're right, Professor. I never really saw him as anything but the bad guy. Marie always could, but he's still up in her head. But Ororo and Scott are already making plans for a memorial service in his honor, and I think that's really… different." Bobby admitted. "I'm not sure, though." He bit down on his lip as he fought through New York traffic, forcing himself to refrain from bad language.
Charles chucked. "Yes, I suppose it is. Not everyone makes a point to remember their enemy, but Erik helped to build the mansion and made it what it is today." Bobby nodded, and the two men lapsed into comfortable silence.
The scenery quickly changed, and time flew by as they drove back to the mansion. Charles adjusted his suit that had been wrinkled slightly from sitting in the car as Bobby slow to a stop at the front door. He opened the door and helped the Professor into his wheelchair, and then picked up Xavier's bags.
"Thank you, Bobby." Charles smiled pleasantly, and allowed his former student to wheel him into the mansion.
The presence of the Professor was quickly realized and the children, whom had recently been brought from the safehouses, raced to meet him. They each smiled and said they were glad he was back, and a few of the smaller ones reached up to hug him. Charles smiled and responded to each of the students, glad to be home. He was still a scientist and an intellect, but his heart was always for these precious children.
"Ah, Logan." Charles greeted the Wolverine as he walked in. "How have you been?"
"Just great, Chuck. And yourself?"
"I've been better. Warren was generous in offering his plane, but still, the news of what happened seemed to take away the novelty." The Professor chuckled. "So, how is Scott?"
"He was pretty beat up when I brought him to the medlab, but Hank's taking good care of him. I was just plannin' on heading down. You coming?" Logan asked.
"And I'm guessing you're going down to find Ororo." The Professor's eyes twinkled merrily.
"Of course. I haven't seen her anywhere." Logan replied somewhat defensively, offended that the Professor would assume anything different.
Neither Charles nor Logan mentioned it when Ororo passed them by on the way to the elevator.
XXX
"Hank… I can't feel my arms." Scott complained after the doctor had sewn up his wounded arms, while the anesthesia was wearing off. "I appreciate what you are doing, but I think all of your hard work is for naught if you simply kill off all of the nerve endings in my body."
"Now, there is an idea." Dr. McCoy smiled serenely.
"Oh, you're hilarious." Scott muttered as the door opened, and the Professor and Logan entered. "Professor! It's so good to see you! Logan, for the hundredth time, Ororo isn't down here." He kept a straight face, but was smirking inwardly. He knew that Logan was coming to check on him, and he thought it was hysterically amusing. Logan still would never admit to liking him, but he was the kind of man that preferred to let his actions speak for themselves.
"Yeah, yeah, Cyke." Logan muttered, rolling his eyes. "Blue, where's the pyromaniac?" He asked.
"Oh, I ran a few more tests and he's absolutely fine. He scraped by with no brain or tissue damage. His heart was touch and go for a while, but I'm sure that there will be no complications." Hank explained. "And the surgery went great, and he should have full use of his powers in a couple days.
"What happened to John?" Charles asked Scott.
"He and Alyssa were experimented on by the Friends of Humanity. It took several days, but Alyssa hasn't left the fountain for anything except meals, sleep and her classes. She had a lot of gene suppressant in her system, but she's absolutely fine now." Scott explained. "John was put in a tub of ice water, and they planted small poles in his arms to suppress his abilities." He shook his head. "Now that the Brotherhood is disbanded…" He sighed.
"There will always be someone else." Charles, too, sighed. "It can be tiring." He turned his eyes to Scott. "You saved a lot of people with your quick actions, Scott. I don't know if I'll ever be able to express my gratitude to you for doing what you did. I know you feel guilty that you killed Erik. But you saved the students." He placed a hand on Scott's arm.
"I know." Scott whispered, closing his eyes. "I don't feel like a hero, though everyone seems to be coming down to tell me that. All I can remember was what my powers did… they didn't destroy him or anything. They just… killed him." He shuddered. "Most are glad that their powers are developing, but I…"
Charles nodded. Scott didn't have to explain to him. Power was a burden that came with great responsibility, and both men knew that feeling well. They carried the future of the world on their shoulders, and it was painful when the cost of doing the right thing was taking the life of an old friend who formed who you were. It was worth it, though, when they remembered the laughing, happy children that were above their heads. Most of the world would never know a hundredth of what these two men sacrificed, but Scott understood that what the world knew or didn't know was inconsequential. It was that they were still fighting for equality with every breath and every action that mattered.