Chapter Twenty-Eight
Charles ate heartily that night. Perhaps he sensed that he would need his strength for the meeting Maria had called. He was amazed at the girl's sheer audacity. But there was a pride there, too, since she was so directly opposing him. And she had a case. As she had articulated it to him, that case became uncomfortably formidable to his ears. By God-could she be right?
After dinner, the team assembled in the living room. Charles sat in his chair near the fireplace, which was roaring that evening. Maria sat on the sofa, legs curled up on a hassock. Hank sat next to her. Bobby and Warren sat across from them in large leather chairs, and Scott and Jean were hand-in-hand on a smaller sofa near the fire, across from Charles. He nodded to Maria when they were all assembled.
"The floor is yours, my dear."
"Thanks, Professor." She looked around at the others. "Guys-I have a motion to bring to the floor. Should we ditch our so-called 'secret identities'?"
There was a dead silence. Finally, Bobby said: "Gee, Maria, you're full of surprises today."
Hank had a thoughtful look on his face. "Ah. I wondered if anyone else ever thought about this."
Warren smiled. "Oh, what a nice dream. Too bad we have to wake up."
Scott scowled. "I don't see any practical benefit from it, to be honest. No offense, Maria."
Jean frowned. "I wonder, Scott. I've thought about this, too-" She turned to Maria. "I gather you've got some arguments, Maria. Let's hear them. Let's know what's on your mind, what's on everybody's mind. We can't take this issue lightly."
"Hell, no," Maria said. "And I don't. Let me start by stating the obvious. I, personally, would benefit from this. I could go out with you guys in public. I wouldn't be the Mutant-Madwoman-in-the-Attic anymore. I'd be free." She looked intently at all of them. "That's not why I'm advocating this. Of course I'd like it. But I think the logic of it is irresistible."
"Very well, Maria," Charles said. "All of you-she tried out some of these ideas on me before dinner. I have been doing my best to refute them, and I tell you plainly, some of what she says is so strongly put that I am hard-pressed to accomplish this. Maybe you can do better." He turned to Maria again. "Go on, my dear."
"OK. Do you remember what the Thinker said, before he pushed the button on that damned gun?" She looked at her teammates, and they nodded.
"Sure," Warren replied. "It was pretty hard to forget."
"Of course," Maria said. "He called us by our names. Remember, Scott? 'Scott, Scott, Scott'-he was practically mocking you with it. He called Jean by her name. He called me by my name. He called the Professor 'Charles'." She hesitated. "Guys-the Thinker knows who we are."
Hank nodded. "Indeed, my fair colleague. I noticed that right away. Somehow, he was able to find out."
"Somehow, indeed," Maria said. "And if he could find out, others can, too. Others already have. Magneto knows. The Brotherhood knows. Guys-do you all feel that the Thinker, and Magneto, are going to keep our identities a secret forever out of the goodness of their hearts?"
She could see the logic of this sinking in. Scott still looked dissatisfied. "Maybe this is true," he said. "But does that mean we have to pull the plug on ourselves?"
"Do we have an alternative?" Jean asked. "In the long run, that is...and really, in the not-so-long run." She took Scott's hand, and Charles was amused to see a look of faint disgust come over Maria's face. Was she thinking of water buckets? "It's not only Magneto and the Thinker. The Blob knows, too. Professor-you stripped his memory after our first battle, but that memory returned to him. He retains it even now. He has returned to the circus, but who knows what the future will bring?"
Bobby was looking thoughtful as well. "You knocked out a big chunk of the memory of my entire home town, Prof," he said, looking at Charles. "Who knows how long that's going to last?"
Charles shut his eyes. Indeed, doing that-and keeping it done-was a considerable strain on him. It had been "necessary". And he hated it with all his soul. He was beginning to feel almost light-headed. What had been "necessary" for so long... He was astonished to hear Maria's idea being as warmly received as it was. He was astonished to find himself wondering about their so-called "secrecy". Did he think that Eric, say, was going to keep their secret forever out of the goodness of his heart-?
"Professor, everybody," Maria said, "it isn't only our enemies. Remember-people at the FBI know. And if there's one thing that you can say with absolute certainty in this world, it's that a government bureaucracy-any government bureaucracy-is going to leak sooner or later. I'm amazed it hasn't happened yet. Every morning I cringe when I open the paper, because I'm afraid I'm going to see the Mansion plastered all over the front page."
Scott smiled tightly. "Your brother knows, too, Maria. And he works for Jameson."
She nodded brightly. "Indeed he does. I trust Frank-but, well, who knows what Jameson is capable of? Frank has hinted that Jameson's been known to send spies trailing his employees, if Jonah feels they haven't been totally honest with him." She turned to the Professor. "And of course, there's Dr Asimov, and Dr Richards, and Dr Pym, and Dr King, and Dr Oppenheimer, and Dr Schweitzer-"
Charles nodded wearily. "Yes, Maria, you've made your point." Indeed she had. Charles realized that he had let things slide for far too long, whatever the outcome of this debate.
"X-Men," Maria said, looking at all of them in turn, "we're living under a sword of Damocles. We could be exposed at any moment. I propose that we take the initiative, and go public. The sooner, the better."
Warren looked uncomfortable. "You make some really good points, Maria," he said. "But let's take a look at the practical side of things. Our families would be exposed, too. They couldn't live normal lives again."
Jean looked somber. "You're right, Warren. On the other hand-how 'normal', really, are their lives now? If we're living under a sword of Damocles, so are they. They might pick up a paper some morning, too. Or get a phone call that one of us is dead. Or be kidnapped by an enemy with no warning. And our enemies know who they are. If they know who we are, they know who they are."
"In short," Hank said grimly, "our families are at this moment living in a fool's paradise."
"And there's more," Maria went on. "Professor, all of you-on the day I joined the X-Men, Magneto taunted me with your secret identities. He said that they-the Brotherhood-at least didn't go around in masks and hide who they were, that I wouldn't have to do this as a member of the Brotherhood. Guys-more mutants are coming along all the time. How many of them are going to want to go around wearing masks over their faces? Our doing that is as much as telling the world that we're ashamed of who, what we are. Is that the message we want to send young mutants whom we want to join us? If so, it's a propaganda victory for Magneto, and we're giving it to him on a silver platter."
Charles could see that this argument was having a very profound effect on the X-Men. Indeed, he did not know what he could say to refute it. He did not know if he wanted to refute it. But before it was over, he would have to say some home truths about this path Maria was proposing. That, at least, was his simple duty. But he also knew that this debate couldn't be simply cut off by him by fiat. Slowly but surely, he realized as the discussion went along that this would have to be their decision. The time had come when they were teaching him, and he felt a rush of pride at who, what, these young people were becoming. Had become.
"So do we want to live our lives in the open?" Scott asked. "Be so-called 'celebrities', have reporters and rubber-neckers gawking outside the Mansion, our lives paraded in the papers?"
"The Fantastic Four have survived," Hank said, voice very quiet. "So do famous people in every walk of life."
"And Maria is right," Jean said. "What about other mutants? If we keep hiding, it will look as if we have something to hide. I do not feel that being a mutant is a matter of shame."
Warren stood up and walked to the fire, wings creating a slight draft in the room as they flapped very slowly. "My parents are very rich and very socially prominent. If I went public, they would be horrified." He turned towards the others. "But if-as Jean suggested-they were to open a paper and read about my death in battle-that would horrify them much more. As for exposing them to danger-"
Hank frowned. "The same is true of the family of every politician. And soldier. And policeman. If people knew we were determined to protect those whom we loved-would it be any worse than the situation now, when our enemies can strike against them at any time, without their knowledge?"
"The Israelis have a policy of no tolerance for any attacks against their people," Jean said, very seriously indeed. "We can do the same. I do not like the idea of having to tell my parents and my sister Sara about me. But the more I think about it, I like the idea of not telling them even less." She paused. "Professor-do they know? After Annie Richardson-do they know?"
Charles shook his head. "They suspect, at an unconscious level. Especially your father. They noticed things when I was helping you. They could hardly have avoided it. But they have created a reality-tunnel in which everything can be explained by ordinary psychiatric explanations. This will hit them hard." Jean nodded unhappily.
Hank looked carefully at Maria. "Maria-is there any element here of psychological overcompensation on your part? Now that you've decided to come clean with us about your own true mutant state, you're wanting to go whole hog and tell the world everything?"
Maria looked right in Hank's eyes. "I don't know, Hank. Maybe. But it doesn't matter. Even if that were true, I think it's a good idea all the same."
Charles sighed. He could feel the weight of opinion moving inexorably, and he was overwhelmed. He had made a mistake about this matter. Or if it had not been one originally, it had become one by weight of custom and blinkered thinking. He turned to Bobby.
"Robert-you have not have much to say. What are your thoughts?"
Bobby looked at the Professor and smiled. "Prof-I'm awfully tired of lies."
Charles didn't answer, merely nodded. "Scott?" he asked the team leader. "How about you?"
Scott didn't answer, just looked at Jean and saw what she was telling him with her eyes, her hand, her entire posture. Finally, he shook his head.
"I think you're all nuts," he said. "But if you are, then I guess I am, too, because I think I agree with Maria. God help me."
Jean laughed, and took Scott in her arms and kissed him. Maria's look of disgust just increased, and this time Charles did laugh out loud. He felt a weight taken off his soul that he hadn't even known was there. Warren shrugged, and kissed Maria.
"Babe-you've just made me the biggest sex symbol in the land. I hope you can live with the consequences."
Maria leered at him. "Bigger than Reed Richards?" Warren gave her a mock swat.
Bobby looked at Charles. "Sir-? What do you think?"
Charles shook his head. "This was your decision, Robert, not mine. You are young and full of enthusiasm, and I am glad of that. But there will be more difficulties that you can now imagine. I would be amiss in my duties if I did not at least offer some words of caution. It's quite likely that dangers-to us, and our families-will increase, in ways we can foresee, and in ways we cannot. And in some ways, your lives will never truly belong to you again. This shall require a great deal of adjustment on all of your parts. You must all understand the magnitude of the decision you have made today."
Hank stood up. "Oh, I think we realize that, sir. Indeedy we do." He turned to Maria. "Oh, my stars and garters. You've been full of surprises today, Miss Gianelli."
"Am I to infer from that, Mr McCoy, that I'm not full of surprises the rest of the time?"
"Perhaps not like this."
There was some talk about the path they had to take, and the timing of what they were doing. Since Christmas was coming, it was decided that those with families would tell them the truth over the holidays, and about the decision they had reached. And, also, to see if any of their families objected to what they had planned. Charles was then going to invite all of them to the Mansion, and see what the collective wisdom of the X-Men, and their families, was. Then-in the new year-they would act.
Before going to bed, Charles spoke briefly with Maria. "My dear-I am very proud of you."
Silence. Then: "Thank you, sir."
"Will this be a difficult matter for your brother to deal with?"
"Probably, Professor. He is a journalist, after all, keeping a secret from his employer." She laughed. "A secret about me. From J Jonah Jameson! Frank will have to get a new job, I'm afraid. Well, I know what his reaction will be-'easy come, easy go'."
"I hope so, Maria," the Professor said. "Good night."
"Good night, sir."
"How are you feeling?"
"Beat. Like I'm walking on psychic eggshells. My head is exploding. Very happy."
"Very good. Again-good night."
"Night, sir."
The door was locked. Scott warned Hank, Bobby, and Jean to stay back, and opened his visor just a fraction of an inch. There was a hissing sound, and the bright red of an explosion, as the door was vaporized. "Iceman!" he called. "Take the point. Beast, you follow. Marvel Girl, after him. I'll finish up."
Scott saw Bobby enter the Thinker's Midtown lair, ice shield in front as he moved cautiously ahead. "Don't see anything, Scott-" At that moment, there was a hissing, much like the sound of Scott's optic beam, and a laser cut right in front of Bobby's path. For a terrible instant Scott thought Iceman had been hit, but Bobby was slammed to the ground flat, just in time for the laser beam to miss him. Had he still been standing where he was, it would have cut him in two.
"Good save, Jean!" Scott called, seeing her utilize her telekinesis to pull Bobby out of the path of the laser. She nodded, and probed the large room they had entered.
"I'm not sensing anything else, Scott-" she said, when a door panel slid open and the Thinker walked out in front of them. He put up a hand, and smiled genially.
"Hello, my friends," he said. "Needless to say, I'm not the real Thinker. I'm just a robot-and yes, I readily confess that I've used a robot in this case. Why waste perfectly good genetic materials on an android whose sole purpose is to distract and mislead you?"
Hearing that hated voice was too much for Scott. He didn't want to hear any more. Anything this thing could say was meant to distract them in any case. It admitted it. The more it talked, the more distracting it would get. "Stand back!" he cried, and let loose a full optic blast at the robot. It fell to the floor, smashed to pieces. Scott walked over it and into the complex. He looked around-nothing. "Beast, Marvel Girl-check the other rooms. Iceman, see if Angel is occupied with anything out there." He opened some closets in the main room, and saw nothing. The others reported that there was no sign of the Thinker, his android, or anything else. Scott sighed, and signalled to Warren, who entered by a window.
"Anything pass your way?" he asked. Warren shrugged.
"Not unless you count the pigeons."
Scott made a disgusted gesture. "Well, the FF did their part by giving us this location for his old lab," he said with a sigh. "I guess he's flown the coop."
"Oh, I wouldn't say that," a voice said, and they recognized it as the Thinker's. "You've cost me some money and time in the wanton destruction of my robot, but after all, there's more where he came from. And I hate to sacrifice that lab, because of its sentimental value. Naturally, I abandoned it many months ago. But I did set a booby-trap-"
"Everyone out!" Scott cried. "Out the window! Now!" Warren flew out of the room like a blur, and Iceman was on his heels with an ice slide. The Beast jumped out of the room immediately after them, and Jean turned to Scott. "I'm not going without you!"
"Jean, move! I'll be all right. Now!" Marvel Girl flew out of the window on her telekinetic power, and Scott threw himself out the window, trusting to Warren to catch him-which of course he did. And the moment he was clear, there was a massive explosion in the complex they had just left, with smoke and fire pouring out the window they had leapt through. Jean had levitated herself to the roof of a building across a small alleyway, and Hank soon joined her there. Bobby's ice slide made it three, and Warren set down Scott next to the others.
"Well, that was a fiasco," Warren said cheerfully.
"Indubitably," Hank said. "What now, Fearless Leader?"
"God knows," Scott said. "But we'd better at least get out of the neighborhood before the cops get here."
"We don't want to wait for them?" Jean asked, and Scott shook his head.
"We do not," Scott answered. "It would mean hours of useless talk, and they'd gain nothing they won't get once they realize whose complex it was, and talk to the FF about it. Let's go." They walked down to the front of the building and circled around a couple of blocks, to the amazement of passers-by. There were a couple of autograph-seekers, some college boys who made a suggestion to Jean to which she replied by dumping some dog crap on their heads, and a wino who said that they were the Apostles of the Antichrist, and would they please get out of his sunlight before he froze to death, it being quite cold after all-
The X-Men had to agree with this. Scott was impervious to the weather, but he saw Jean shiver slightly, and Hank was rubbing his feet. "Do we walk all the way back to the limo?" Warren asked, still cheerful, and Scott shrugged.
"Unless you have a better idea."
"Oh, no. Just wondering."
Some children came up to them. One of them asked shyly: "Where is Shift? Is she OK?"
"She's fine," Jean answered with a smile. "Just taking a bit of a vacation."
"Oh, good," the child said. "She's our favorite. No offense, the rest of you guys."
"Oh, none taken," Jean said as the children walked off.
"The glamorous life of a super-hero," Bobby said cheerfully. "I wonder how different it's going to be when..." He didn't finish his sentence, and the others didn't answer, though they were all wondering the same thing.
Somewhere, in a quietly-lit room, a certain figure lay back in a chair and thought hard, eyes shut. So they're really going to do it. I thought so, of course, but one is never sure until it happens. If there's anything I've learned, it's that. That means events will probably go as I expected. At least, until Trask unleashes his Sentinels. Before then, there is the bizarre interlude in Antarctica. There is the Stranger. There is Marko. They should go as expected-though I worry about the Stranger. He is a wild card. Totally beyond anyone's ability to predict. But still-either he takes Magneto-and the wretched Toynbee-with him, or he does not. The probabilities seem geared towards his doing so, but I must be very cautious regarding this one. There is one possibility that could change everything. The girl Maria-and the Stranger. It will almost certainly happen someday. Could it happen then? In his presence? If so-
The figure sighed. And if Trask does as expected- No, this is no good. There are simply too many variables. Magneto. He makes so much difference. If he is here for the Sentinels, the probability goes one way. If not, then it goes just as strongly another way. A better way, I think. No, it would be better, all things considered, if he does go with the Stranger.
The figure went and put some logs on the fire. Odd, how I appreciate simple things in this place. Fireplace logs. Reading books. Seeing the snow fall. I spend so much time doing complex things, I suppose the simple ones are a blessing.
The figure warmed its hands, feeling the blessed heat go right through its pores into its marrow, its soul. The Sentinels. They-Trask-are acting somewhat differently, here, than I was expecting. Than they have elsewhere. It could be the end of everything. And yet-is that possible? Really? I am assuming too much, perhaps. About Jean. That it is inevitable that she becomes Phoenix. Would she do so, just to give an elegy to a blasted world? Maybe. It is years earlier than I was expecting-but if the world ends, would that really change matters? God knows. I do not. I am not God, though sometimes I have pretended otherwise.
There was much to digest this evening. The X-Men, going public! Charles essentially abdicated. Let them make the decision. They are young, brave, true heroes. Do they know what they are letting themselves in for? Perhaps not. But they are ready for anything. My head says one thing, my heart another. Then let the heart rule. If there's anything I have learned, it's that that is the best policy regarding them. They have confounded established wisdom so many times. Let them do so again.
"I'm so sorry I missed your birthday, Jean," Isaac Asimov said cheerfully, taking another piece of the cheesecake Carla was supplying him with. "Eighteen! Imagine that! To be so young. Was I ever so young?"
Maria smiled. "You sold your first story when you were exactly eighteen, Isaac," she said. "So, yes, I guess you were."
Asimov beamed at her. "My biggest fan! So deft with my biographical details! You probably know more about my life than I do!"
There was a laugh from the students. "Isaac," Jean said with a smile, "you have the world's best memory. You have never forgotten anything that happened in your entire life."
He smiled modestly-or at least, Maria thought with a snort, he probably thought it was a modest smile. "Well, I have been blessed with near total recall. Naturally, I can remember things."
"So you were eighteen once," Bobby said, and Maria thought there was a please-can-the-BS tone to his voice. If so, Isaac didn't seem to notice.
"Indeed," he said, beaming. "And I must confess, I've often wondered if I were that age now, if there might not even be a place for me within these walls. With my remarkable ability to absorb such great amounts of knowledge-"
A groan went up, and Maria and Bobby threw spitballs at Isaac in mid-sentence. He took this with equanimity.
"Jealousy, rank jealousy," he said with a smile. "What an ornament I could be to your team-the depository of all information-"
"We already have a smart fat guy," Maria said. "And you don't even hop around like a monkey."
Hank responded to this slur by tossing his own spitball at her, and she grabbed it and tossed it back, and suddenly she remembered she was trying to act grown-up and cool in front of an adult authority figure. Unfortunately, Isaac seemed to be egging them on.
"Just what super-hero name would we call you?" Warren asked. "Jello Man?"
"Captain Potato," Hank said helpfully.
"The Human Starch," Jean suggested.
"The Buffet Master," Bobby added.
"How about Dr Oysters Rockefeller?" Scott said with a slight smile.
"I have it-The Emperor of Ice Cream!" Maria cried out, and this suggestion was unanimously adopted.
"Charles, are you going to sit there and let these children malign me?" Asimov said with mock petulance to the Professor. Who shrugged.
"Isaac-I disagree with what they have to say, of course. But I'll defend to the death their right to say it." Asimov broke out laughing, and took a bite of cheesecake. He was here merely on a visit, which was fine with Maria. That made her feel a bit less guilty about what she and Jean were going to do. Maria was a bit disappointed in Jean's surrender to Scott regarding the jock strap photo, though not entirely surprised by it. But Dr Asimov was fair game.
Their opportunity came later, as he was leaving. As always, he managed to get alone with Jean, and Maria was watching closely from the doorway. Isaac hugged Jean, and then-as they expected-moved to pinch her bottom. The moment his fingers touched her, he gave out a grunt, for the excellent reason that he was suddenly being suspended about ten feet above the ground.
"Isaac," Jean said very quietly, "I think we need a lesson in respect. Maria-if you please." Maria entered the room, and smiled at Isaac, who was turning green as he was being very slowly turned around in mid-air by Jean's telekinesis. "This is my colleague, the lovely Miss Gianelli. Miss Gianelli, would you please inform Dr Asimov what will happen if he doesn't quit bottom-pinching."
"With pleasure, Miss Grey." Maria turned to Isaac and spoke exactly three sentences, consisting of a mere twenty-two words. They were not spoken in a hostile tone of voice in the least. Indeed, there was a friendly, more-in-sorrow-than-in-anger quality to her words, and Jean nodded solemnly as Maria spoke them. Asimov's color went from green to purple as he heard them.
"You-you're not serious," he gasped, and Maria and Jean looked at each other.
"Miss Gianelli-I do believe that Isaac thinks we're not serious."
"Oh, my, Miss Grey. I do believe you're right."
"Perhaps I should let him down, and hand him over to your tender mercies?"
"No!" Asimov cried out, beginning to sound genuinely alarmed. "Girls-please! I meant no harm by it!"
Jean let him down slowly-and again, Maria felt a bit disgusted. Poor kid-she had too tender a heart. "We know, Isaac," Jean said. "Truly, we do. But frankly, it bothers us when you do that. So-if you please...?"
Isaac looked at them, wiped his brow. "Ladies-you had but to ask."
"Which we have just done," Maria said sweetly. Asimov looked at them, and finally smiled.
"I do believe I have learned my lesson," he said. "Am I forgiven?"
Jean and Maria looked at each other and laughed. Both girls hugged Isaac simultaneously. "Please!" he cried out. "One at a time, ladies, I beg you! This is too much of a good thing!"
"Oh, it's never too much of a good thing for you," Jean said.
Asimov adjusted his glasses. "I must say, I don't like heights," he said. "Even one as small as that." He turned to Maria. "Needless to say, you wouldn't really have-?"
Maria smiled beatifically. "Fortunately, we'll never know." Asimov looked the least bit taken aback, as he departed the Mansion. The girls shook hands.
"Scott would certainly approve of that mission," Jean said.
"Indubitably, Miss Grey," Maria said. "Is your career as an agitator over, or shall we see Marvel Girl Unleashed once more?"
Jean smiled like a cat. "One never knows, Miss Gianelli. One never knows."
