September 20, 1985

There were memories, memories that seeped into his head like smoke. Whenever he tried to latch onto them they floated away; insubstantial. The only time that Kurt's memories seemed to have any substance to them was when he dreamed. They were nightmares then, nightmares that made him wish for his physically painful waking hours. Even then he had dreams when he was awake, hallucinations that left him wishing it would just end.

In his sleep he could see Amanda, her eyes bright and her lips smiling. There were many memories like that, memories that cycled around in an endless circle. He could remember the first time that they were together in the cabin, surrounded by the snow. After she'd fallen asleep, but just before he had, he'd stroked the side of her face.

Kurt had marveled at how different she was. Her skin was so soft compared to his. Amanda had more fingers and her frame was altogether more delicate. He'd wondered just how fragile her bones were. Her hair wasn't as coarse as his; it was much finer. She had more of it and it was bright, bright like her eyes, bright like her laugh. She was a creature of light while he was made for the night and shadows.

Amanda was made differently from him. Kurt knew her arguments about how mutants and humans were the same, but really there was a difference in construction. And yet they were both very similar. They enjoyed so much, laughed together, and she had told him she loved him. It had changed the way he saw the world. She was his missing half; he knew it. Despite their differences they came together.

That night, after she'd told him that she'd leave and return, she slept again in his arms again. Still awake he remembered their differences. Kurt remembered how fragile she was, how different her world was. It was only then that he'd faltered, that he felt that maybe his father really had been right. Maybe it wasn't that they couldn't be together though; it was that they shouldn't be together. It was impossible and could only end in tragedy.

Amanda hadn't been asleep then. She'd seen the look in his eyes and wrapped her arms around his neck. Her lips had touched his in a silent pledge that it didn't matter. He'd held onto her and he decided that, no matter what, he was going to believe it. Amanda believed it, and that was more than enough for him.

Always the dream would fade then and he'd waken to his reality. The reality was that their worlds really had been too different. The reality was that her blood had splattered on him, that he'd seen that brightness leave her eyes and the warmth leave her body. She was gone and he had been left behind. That was reality.

She had died and his child had died within her. Her body had been taken somewhere; he didn't know where. He couldn't imagine that they had done something as humane as buried her. The point was that she was gone. Her spirit had flown the body and, the first night that he had some grip on himself he said a silent prayer for the soul of her and their child. He could imagine that they were in heaven now; safe at last.

Yet, it seemed like his strength had died with her. Their dream of a family together was gone. Their dream of a future was gone as well. Kurt tried to focus on things after seeing her death but it was difficult. The lines between reality, memories, and dreams, were blurring together. He wondered if he was losing his mind. He wouldn't really mind if he was.

Sometimes he would see her in his mind at the lake a few miles from his home. Her daughter would be taking a nap, her head in Amanda's lap while her mother stroked her head. Her dark hair dripped with water. Kurt could see that it had been a long day for her, swimming and playing in the warm sunshine. Amanda was tired too, but content, her head leaning against the tree that they rested under.

Truthfully Kurt had never known the gender of Blue. Amanda had said she thought it would be a girl, and it was her description that haunted his dreams. That was the child that he saw by the lake every night with his wife. She was part of the family that he had wanted but would now never have.

In his dream he'd try to reach them. For every step though he became further from them somehow. Finally he teleported. When he arrived though blood dripped from Amanda's hair. Blood was on her hands and, with every touch, she had smeared it on their daughter's face. No breath stirred their bodies and he would try to scream his anguish but he couldn't. Only then would he awaken.

Kurt didn't know how long this state of affairs carried on. Yuriko constantly tried to rouse him, in great pain from some sort of operation that they had done to her. He'd offered her a few words of explanation and he could feel her horror. However, he felt disconnected even when he comforted her over the fact that her bones burned with metal. He felt lost without the strength to find himself.

One morning guards came down the hall. He could see that one carried a syringe. The design was familiar and he vaguely registered acid. Somehow Yuriko knew what was happening.

"Kid," she managed from her cell, "don't let them break you. They're going to control you, make you do things, but don't let them break you. You can't let them…if you let them it's all been for nothing…"

Her voice trailed off as the door to her own cell opened. He heard heavy footsteps. In his own cell Stryker walked in, a smirk on his face that Kurt was too lost to be angry about. Two guards moved forwards restrained him as the acid was dripped onto his neck. Unlike other times he felt a floating sensation, one that lifted him away and began disconnecting him from his body.

From the cell next door came the noises of scuffling, a struggle. It seemed far away, as though he were hearing it with someone else's ears.

"Kid," Yuriko said plaintively, her voice pained, "are you going to let them win?"

The disconnection was complete and he felt his head turn up.

"I think it's time you met the President," Stryker said.

Her baby was perfect. Her eyes, when they stayed open, were big and clear. Her hair grew in quickly, curling around her ears in thick black locks at only a few months. Hank had said it was part of her mutation. No matter what caused it it made her look completely adorable.

Amanda had to stifle the urge to use baby talk around Blue too much. She'd read somewhere that it would teach the baby to talk strange. Every now and then she couldn't resist. Amanda knew there was something special about her small daughter, something special enough to love cuddling and playing with her.

There were, however, downsides to being a new mother. Blue could be fussy and she'd been woken up several times in the night. A baby monitor linked their rooms. On most nights Amanda just ended up sleeping in Blue's room though. With Kurt still missing and Azazel off again Blue was the only reminder of the life she'd wanted.

Kurt and Azazel not being there also meant something else. Amanda had begun experiencing what it would be like being a new mother without any extra help. There was no father to wake up and let her rest when Blue began crying, to help play with her, or even to pick up extra tasks when she was busy. It was eerily similar to being a single mother. Amanda tried not to dwell on the connotations.

As always the Professor had been very kind. She'd invited him to hold Blue, to read to her. There was something about his stance, the way he looked at her, that told her how much this meant. His sister had run away years ago, leaving him bereft of family. Now the girl who married his nephew had come into his life and given birth to his great-niece. She thought it must feel like Christmas to him. Amanda knew what it was like to suddenly gain family after having lost it.

Rogue had also been a big help. She seemed to enjoy godmother duties, although Amanda could see that she saw Blue as a sort of living doll. That didn't mean she wasn't careful around her. Whenever she handled Blue she had to plan for it though. She always wore turtlenecks and gloves. The first time Blue batted at her she'd jerked away, as though afraid that the extra force of the touch would somehow activate her powers.

Nothing had happened and Amanda knew that nothing ever would. Rogue was too careful; careful with Blue, with Bobby, with her friends, with the world. Amanda couldn't begin to imagine what it would be like to walk through life scared that your skin would somehow hurt someone.

Amanda finished buttoning Blue's dress up. It was a small, somewhat frilly affair. She'd picked it out with Rogue three days after Blue's birth. They'd shopped in the local town, picking out jumpsuits and dresses for her. Amanda had left Blue under the watchful eye of Jean for a few hours. It had almost felt like a girl's day out.

The mansion was eerily quiet as she picked up her daughter. Most of the students had gone on a field trip to a museum. Amanda had decided to stay behind; Blue would have to be left alone again if she did. After everything she didn't feel comfortable leaving her daughter alone for too long. She was still so small.

Amanda was also still getting sick. Sulfur was still circulating through her body. Hank was there, monitoring her recovery. In a few days she would be as good as new and he would return to Washington. It comforted her to know that. She had enough to worry about with Blue without worrying about herself.

Shifting her grip on Blue she walked down the stairs. Blue leaned her head into Amanda's grasp and promptly fell asleep. Silently Amanda grinned. Blue could fall asleep in any situation. It never made sense; she liked being awake at night more than in the day. Amanda would have to work on that.

Walking downstairs she stepped into the living room. The few kids, the ones with mutations too visible to hide, were gathered around the television. Hank was watching the children. He didn't turn when she came in; his eyes were fixed to the screen.

Amanda shifted Blue again and watched the news anchor.

"It appears that there has been a failed assassination attempt of the President by persons unknown," said the anchor, "While details are still sketchy, it appears that the would-be-assassin is a mutant."

Something shifted inside her and it felt like the floor had been pulled out from under her. Amanda felt her knees go weak and her head began to swim. Although Blue hadn't been disturbed by the moment she woke up. From far away Blue began to cry. At the sound Hank turned around. He started and blinked at her expression.

"Are you alright?" he asked.

Amanda swallowed.

"Yes," she said, "It just…it just felt like someone walked over my grave."

"We don't have much time," Erik said.

"I'm working on it," Mystique said, "I've almost got the footage. One minute is still plenty of time before their alarms sound and we get cut-off."

Azazel stood nearby, his arms crossed. He hadn't gone near a computer in many years. Mystique handled them like they were a second nature to her though. As her fingers flew across the keys he felt grateful, in a way, for that. Part of him sneered at the part of him that still loved her. He'd learned a long time ago that it wouldn't do him any good.

"Why would mutant attack President?" he said out loud.

"I'm only surprised it hasn't happened before," Erik said drily, "But the Brotherhood was never into assassinations. They attract far too much attention and can escalate the conflict very easily. Everyone knows that. Taking this knowledge into account, as well as certain circumstances, it seems reasonable to deduce that things are not as they seem."

"I've got it," Mystique said.

She shut down the computer before turning it back on. A screen with a footage file was held in the corner. Mystique clicked on it. Azazel watched impassively as guards walked through the hall. It held no interest to him and he had to stifle a yawn. It was only when he caught a movement out of the corner of his eye did he pay attention.

"Go back," he ordered.

Mystique glanced at him briefly before turning back to the screen. She hadn't said a word to him after Azazel had told her that she wasn't a grandmother. However, she did hear him because she moved the footage back several seconds. They watched and Azazel saw it again, his teeth clenching.

"Derr`mo," he said.

"What is it?" asked Erik.

"Pull back video," Azazel said.

Mystique did so. Azazel pointed to the corner of the screen. It looked almost as though there were a blip in the video, a distortion. Erik glanced at him, waiting for an explanation. Irritated at his lack of comprehension Azazel teleported to another spot. Almost instantly he teleported again. The human eye wouldn't even have time to see that there was a person in between the explosions of smoke.

On black and white footage it would appear as a smudge.

"I see," Erik said slowly.

Azazel stopped and caught Mystique's eye. There was a very even look in her yellow eyes, one that was almost scared.

"They took syn," Azazel said, "And forced him to try and do assassination. Mastermind serum, da?"

He spat out his last words.

"It would appear so," Erik said.

His tone was troubled. Azazel picked up on it and narrowed his eyes.

"What?" he asked.

"It's just…I'm not sure how to say this Azazel," Erik said.

"Say it," Azazel hissed.

Erik looked hat him levelly.

"Alright then," replied Erik, "I'm going to be completely honest here; I don't think that Stryker will have much use for Kurt now that he's done his job. I don't see why he would keep him around."

Azazel started at Erik's words. Dimly he saw Mystique's grip on the mouse tighten. The thought was new but it made a chilling amount of sense. He swallowed hard and looked at the blip that represented the most he'd seen of his son in months. The frightening possibility that it could be the last he saw of him flooded into his mind.