DISCLAIMER: Was laid down mightily way back at the beginning of the Prologue and still stands. All things recognizably Marvellian belong to them. No money. No litigation, please. Greek gods belong to the world at large or to people so long dead that they're dust. Dakota, Yankton, and other assorted people peppered throughout the story belong to me.

FEEDBACK can be sent to bkittle@creighton.edu. Notification of archivement [Can I possibly make up any more words?] should be sent to that address also.

italics = Mental notes


Climb That Mountain High - Part 6
By: Beverly McIntyre

The phone ringing halfway across the mansion cut through the deadened haze in Storm's mind. Groaning slightly, she stirred underneath the down comforter, not really wanting to get up but having the feeling she had to anyway. Not many of the mansion dwellers would stop what they were doing to answer the phone, especially since they now had a working answering machine hooked up. Ororo was almost tempted to let the machine pick it up, but an niggling sense of propriety urged her to get up. It was not entirely right to let the machine do all the dirty work. Slender and graceful fingers grabbed the edge of the comforter and peeled it off of her body. The cocoon of warmth that had been around her body dissipated into the chilly air of the room. Shivering slightly, Storm unconsciously raised the temperature around her to a more pleasant level.

The phone continued to ring, echoing like thunder between her ears. Goddess, isn't there anybody home who could answer the phone? Dragging herself out of the bed, Storm quietly exited the room. The gunstock club hanging next to the door rattled on its loose mountings as she shut the door behind her.


The unmistakable sound of four clawed feet scrambling on a hard wood floor preceded the small black blur that whipped around the corner. Storm had about one second to move out of the way before the blur ran straight into her shins. Quickly side-stepping, she watched Yankton scramble halfway down the hallway before making a quick turn and disappearing into one of the rooms behind her. She smiled faintly at the small puppy so full of energy, but that smile disappeared as the phone rang again and thunder reverberated through her skull.

Rubbing her temples in the hopes of soothing the immense, on-coming headache, Storm continued toward the phone. Shouldn't the answering machine have already started? Obviously not as the phone rang again. Gritting her teeth against the lancing pain in her temples, Storm picked up her pace.

She had just made it to the end of the hallway when the phone started to ring again. She moved her hands to cover her ears, hoping that she could at least muffle the sound. But the ringing stopped abruptly.

"Hello? We don't want any."

It was unmistakably Longshot's voice. Storm paused.

"Oh, hi Timoth! - No. Dakota can't come to the phone right now. He's unconscious. - Well, he begged Betsy to knock him out. And she wanted something to do, so she did."

Storm got a slightly horrified look on her face. What was going on? Why was Psylocke knocking Dakota unconscious? Glancing out a nearby window, she saw that dusk was quickly approaching. Last she knew, it had been a little past noon, and she had been helping Dakota clean up a N'Garai carcass. What was going on here?

Longshot's phone conversation continued on unabated. "He was in a lot of pain. Cecilia and Hank didn't have any anesthetic or something ready for him so he begged Betsy to knock him out. - Uh-huh. - Both of his legs got broken by a goatman. - Yeah. Normal heroic stuff. - GLORI? - I don't think Dakota's up to it, but I could take some of my friends with me to go get her. - Now, where is she? - Athens? Where's that? - Greece? I don't- Okay. Somebody ought to know. Thanks, Timoth. - Bye."

Longshot had just set the phone down into its cradle when Storm came around the corner. "Storm! You're awake!" Genuine happiness and concern shown on his face. "You had us worried there for a while. We thought that goatman had done something awful to you. Well, I mean something else on top of what he already did."

"Goatman?" Storm could not remember anything about a goatman. This was a most disconcerting chain of events.

"Don't you remember? That creature, umm, you know . . . What did Wolverine call him?" Longshot looked thoughtful for a minute and then snapped his fingers. "A satyr. That's what they're called."

Storm vaguely remembered something about Dakota seeing a satyr out in the woods of the estate, but that was all she could remember. In fact, she couldn't remember how she had ended up back in the mansion. What is going on? Her memory ended shortly after Dakota mentioned seeing a satyr.

She glanced down at her clothed body to see that at least physically she was fine. She saw nothing out of the ordinary, no external signs that anything had been inflicted upon herself without her knowledge. She looked back up at Longshot, uncertainty and confusion in her blue eyes. "What did this satyr do to me?"

Longshot looked worried. "You don't remember?"

"No. I have no idea what you are talking about. I have no idea how it became so late in the day. I cannot remember anything after noon." Frustration roiled in Storm. Thunder cracked outside as Storm's headache worsened. Longshot looked out the window with a worried glance. "I have team members knocking each other unconscious, and I don't know why. I would like some answers promptly."

"Storm, it's going to be okay." Longshot held up his hands in a placating gesture. "I understand. I'm usually the one with amnesia. Remember?" Longshot grimaced slightly at his word choice but plunged on. "We'll get some answers for you. I promise."

Storm looked at her dear friend and realized a calmer head would prevail. All the recent events that had befallen the X-Men, such as the gutting of their home, the inclusion of Marrow into their ranks, the fact that Professor Xavier was missing, and the 'loss' of Gambit had piled up on Storm. She was a leader and had inherent responsibilities to that post, like trying to sooth those around her while juggling her own worries. It was now she realized she had been trying too hard to quell everyone else's fears while not paying much attention to her own.

"I'm sorry, Longshot. It's just that we X-Men have been through so much recently that I haven't had time to sort out my own feelings."

"It's okay," Longshot said with a shrug. "I've had some pretty bad days myself. Just ask Dakota. Like when I first met him, I ended up being chased by a group of these angry men."

"Oh, really?"

Longshot smiled as he continued to tell the story about possessed men and the torches they carried. The pair of X-Men moved away from the phone and toward the room some answers were located. It was also the room in which Dr. Reyes and Psylocke could be heard to be arguing on the finer points of making a patient unconscious.


Storm sat back in her seat, leather apolstry creaking at the shift of weight. She glanced out of the the small round window next to her as she absently tugged on the left sleeve of her uniform, pulling the cuff back down around her wrist. Back on the move again, she thought absently as she heard the jet engines start up. Then again, when are the X-Men not on the move?

She wasn't entirely too sure she should be on this jet, waiting to go to Greece, but Longshot had asked her to come along when he had informed the X-Men present inside of the mansion he had to go to Athens right away. He had said he had a friend who was probably in trouble, and he needed to get there as quickly as possible. He asked Storm, in particular, and the others if they wanted to go with him. He asked it as a favor of them, and Storm felt obliged to go with him after he helped her fill in the gaps in her memory. She now knew what had happened from the point she lost all recollection of the events around her to the point she had awakened. There were still some points that were fuzzy because Dakota had been the only witness to them and he had still been unconscious when they had left the mansion. Storm could wait to talk to him upon her return from Greece. So far, it seemed nothing more tragic had happened to her was the splitting headache she had gotten afterwards, which was readily taken care of by Cecilia.

"So when are we gettin' this bucket o' bolts movin'? Ah could get out an' run ta Greece faster'n this," Rogue said as she peered out the window over Storm's shoulder. The Southern woman looked out across the airfield to where Longshot stood, talking to a dark-suited man.

"We will be underway shortly," Psylocke said from behind the two X-Women.

Rogue looked over her shoulder at Betsy as the jet engines roar to life and raised an eyebrow.

"The pilot has just gotten his orders."

Storm watched as Longshot sprinted across the airfield toward the jet. His long strides were taking him away from the dark-suited man. The man watched Longshot bound up the stairs to the jet three at a time. When Longshot had made it inside the jet, the man turned and walked toward a waiting limo. His long, unbound black hair whipping in the wind behind him.

As the as the platform of stairs moved away, the door to the jet shut automatically, shutting off the only source of fresh air. Storm felt something inside of her twitch at the thought but stifled it. Just because she could be riding in a big metal coffin that was vacant except for them and the two pilots . . .

Storm suddenly found she preferred to fly on her own to Greece. Her own way in the vast, open blue sky. She could have created her own jet stream to get her there quickly. She could have taken Longshot with her since he weighed very little. But that would leave Rogue and Psylocke far behind because Rogue could not ride the wind anything like she could.

No, it would be best for everybody just to fly to Greece in a jet. It would give both women something to do since Rogue and Psylocke had been going stir-crazy inside the mansion while most of their male team members were out scouring the grounds for any sign of if the satyr was still there. Storm had not been too sure what the grounds for the decree that all women had to stay within the mansion were, but she had a definite feeling it something to do with her encounter a few hours ago that she couldn't remember.

Rogue moved over to one of the chairs across the aisle from Storm as Longshot made his way toward them. She propped her feet up on the arm-rest of the seat in front of her and mumbled something about it being about time. Psylocke sat down in the seat right behind Storm, relaxing slightly. Longshot plopped himself down in the aisle seat next to Storm. He looked over at Storm and smiled reassuringly.

"Here we go," he said cheerily with a waggle of his eyebrows as the jet started to roll forward.