AN: Okay, this is it, the last gala chapter. Pietro's kinda outta character, but consider his circumstances. I could not for the life of me find/remember Forge's name, so we're just callin' him Forge. Last set of disclaimers: I don't own Scrabble (still). or Hot Topic, Def Leopard or Patsy Cline. Some of the info on Pietro's powers in this chapter was gleaned from the book "The Science of X-Men" which is pretty nifty if you're into such things. Thanks to everyone who's read this, sorry for my recent lapses in updating, and have a lovely day.
That Wednesday, Rogue tried on a few dresses at Hot Topic, but without satisfaction. There was one that she and Risty had liked, but Kitty and Jean said it made her look like a dominatrix, and there was one that those two had liked, but it was too gauzy for her tastes, and Risty said it made her look helpless.
"Like, that's the whole point! You look helpless, lull them into a false sense of security, and then like pounce!"
"Kitty Pryde! I'm surprised at you!" Rogue cried with false maternal indignation. Jean snorted.
"I'm not. Come on, it's a big mall."
They trudged along, Risty, Jean and Kitty chatting, Rogue occasionally joining in, but mostly engaged in more introspective thought. Jean and Risty had started up a spirited argument about the merits of school-sponsored athletics, and Kitty fell back, walking by Rogue's side.
"Hey. How you doing?" Kitty asked. Rogue shrugged helplessly.
"I dunno. I'm trying not to think about the fact that, y'know… this means it's really over."
"You nervous?"
"I really am."
Kitty reached up and squeezed Rogue's shoulders in a half-hug.
"Lance says Pietro is too. He'll be 'unusually and unnaturally quiet' for like three hours, and then zip around like lightning for twenty minutes throwing every piece of clothing he has around the room. Oh, he wants to know what color you're wearing as soon as you pick out your dress, so he can make sure he's not gonna clash with you."
Rogue rolled her eyes.
"That's my Quicksilver. Seriously, what are the chances of that?"
"Um… you wore orange to the last dance, Rogue, it doesn't go with a whole lot…"
"…oh yeah."
They stopped as Risty and Jean darted into the lingerie shop.
"Ah jeez, I'm definitely not going to the dance in my underwear."
"That's not what we had in mind you stripe-headed lunatic!" Risty said, swatting at Rogue's head. Risty pointed at a dress form on a table surrounded by bras. It was off the shoulder, long sleeved, made entirely of lace over sheer flesh colored material, came down to just above the knees.
"I thought you could only get that out of the catalog," Jean said.
"Normally, yeah," a passing sales girl said. "but some lady insisted on returning it here. It's on clearance, too," she said helpfully.
"Really," Risty said with a broad smile.
"Yup! My name is Shannon if you need any help."
"We do, Shannon," Risty said. "My friend here would like to try this on."
Ten minutes later, Rogue was walking out of the store, dress, stockings, and all other necessary accessories in bags and paid for. Kitty had informed Lance of the color of the dress, and this information was passed onto Pietro, who expressed approval and then locked himself in his room for the rest of the day. Jean and Kitty refused to let Rogue go home until she bought shoes, Rogue and Risty having lost the debate as to whether or not combat boots constituted dress shoes. Rogue's attempt at high heels was a failed experiment, nearly breaking her ankles on the stilettos that Kitty had picked out for her. She wound up with a pair of thicker heeled Mary Janes, which suited her better anyway. All that remained now was to wait until the Friday of the dance.
Across town, in his locked room, Pietro was sewing like a maniac. Rogue would be there in black lace. Perfect. If she came in something so textured, he'd have to come in something smooth, and so he sat there sewing furiously, the material in his hands silk as cold a white as his hair. Suits were easy for him, he knew his own measurements, and had a knack for clothes, various cuts and lines. Sometimes he figured that was the real reason he was so popular with the girls at school- his clothes actually fit, not in the off the rack way, but in the specifically designed to be close-fitting or loose in all the right places way. Rogue looks good no matter what she wears, he thought, and immediately stuck his finger with the needle for his lack of concentration. He stuck it in his mouth, sullenly sitting back and feeling irritated, partly with himself for falling in love with a girl he couldn't touch, mostly with Xavier and McCoy for not having put their oh-so-amazing brains to good use and sorting out the problem. He resumed his sewing, slower this time. He wondered if he should make gloves for himself, to put Rogue more at ease. No, that would ruing the whole attempt at normality. He was actually surprised she'd even agreed to go to this dance with him, though the two of them hadn't spoken since his 'intervention.' Even though he'd spent the majority of the relationship unconscious, being with Rogue had changed so much for Pietro. Just the very presence of an addition to his life was astounding.
Most of his life had been devoted to proving that he deserved every ounce of his own arrogance, to proving that he was the best of the best. Then Daniels came along and threatened that status in the single arena of basketball, and his focus honed in on regaining his supremacy. Then Magneto had scooped him out of jail and dropped him into the Brotherhood, and his whole world became fighting the X-Men, establishing mutant supremacy over humanity.
Then that all went to hell, and lo and behold, it was just the five of them: Lance, Tabby, Todd, Freddy and himself. Without Mystique and Magneto around to threaten them into supporting an ideology they regained some sanity and started feeling like teenagers again. They may have all had various feelings of various strength regarding politics, human-mutant relations, etc., but they were also ranging in age from fourteen to eighteen, and had all the concerns besetting those of that age group. Pietro's concern became his newfound family, the Brotherhood, and their daily survival.
Now his primary concern was about to be lost: A strange, charming girl who probably knew him better than he knew himself, whose touch laid him out for hours or days, whose anger turned him on in the worst way, whose sorrow made him feel like his insides were bleeding, whose smile made him feel like he could fly. He finished up his suit, brushing the white material of the jacket smooth as hung it up over the slacks and vest. He smirked to himself. He was probably the only sophomore he knew who could pull off a three piece silk suit. He turned in response to a knock at the door.
"Come in," he called. Lance opened the door and looked around.
"Well, I was gonna ask you if you wanted to go shopping, but it looks like you've got it covered."
"Not quite. I need buttons for the vest."
"You're wearing a vest?" Lance said, arching his eyebrow. Pietro favored Lance with one of his trademark grins, though it didn't quite reach his eyes.
"If you've got it, flaunt it, Rocky."
"Got what, a torso? Forget it, you need a ride?" Lance asked, dangling his keys. Normally, Pietro declined such offers, preferring to run everyplace, which was quicker than driving no matter who was behind the wheel, but today, he didn't much feel like braving the fabric store alone. There were a couple little old ladies who'd taken to pinching his cheeks every time he showed up alone. I should bring Rogue in with me next time, he thought, I doubt she'd take kindly to anyone pawing at me no matter how old they were. But then he remembered that Friday would be the last time he'd take her anywhere.
"Yeah, if you don't mind," Pietro answered at last, hoping Lance would be a cheek-pinching deterrent. In the Jeep on the way, Lance cleared his throat.
"You been really quiet the past couple days, man. You all right?"
Pietro gave Lance a half hearted smile.
"Pretty far from all right, Lance. God, I coulda sworn I was doing something right for once, and then I find out, nope, pretty much fucking things up further."
"It's pretty unfair," Lance shrugged, a little uncomfortable with Pietro's sudden openness, not to mention the depression that slowed down the fastest boy in the world quite a bit. Pietro's words came out slower than normal, more resigned.
"I always thought I could force life to be fair to me. I was sure there was no situation I couldn't make the best of. I even thought I could force life to be fair to Rogue."
"Maybe it will be someday."
"This is it, turn right at the light."
Lance followed Pietro into this most unfamiliar territory, and saw the shocking truth about the lengths to which Pietro went to look good.
"Heyyyyyyy! It's Petey!"
"Brace yourself," Petey muttered to Lance. Lance was about to ask him what the hell he was talking about when a terrifying woman descended on them. She had blue-black hair done up in a style startlingly close to a bee-hive, was chewing gum, looked to be in her late forties or early fifties, and was wearing lipstick in a shade of red-orange which Lance had never seen in nature. She grabbed Pietro by the face and squished his cheeks, muttering baby talk at him. Oh my god, Lance thought. Oh my god. Oh my god. Oh my god.
"Mary, it's Petey!" the woman bellowed over to the cash registers. "Where you been kiddo, we ain't seen you in ages!"
"Busy, you know, school," Pietro replied in tones more frayed than his usual fast-talking smoothness.
"Ahh, and who's your friend here, whaaaaaaat a cutie, my god he looks just like James Dean, doesn't he look just like James Dean, Mary?"
"The boy looks nothing like James Dean, Lois, just like Petey looks nothing like Paul Newman did when he was a kid!" a much more cynical voice called from the registers. "Now would you let the kid shop for godssakes?"
"Ah, you're no fun, Mar," Lois called back. "Ah kay Petey, I guess you get to go about your business. Run along!"
Pietro and Lance walked away from the terrifying Lois, quickly, but not too quickly lest they show their fear.
"What the hell was that?" Lance whispered once they were safely in the button aisle. Pietro rubbed the bridge of his nose.
"That was Lois. She's the matron aunt I never had."
"I didn't know you wanted one."
"I never said I did. Still, beats my actual family members in spades. Hey, these are nice," he said, scooping up some mother of pearl buttons. "That'll go nice with the white." He quickly ushered Lance to the checkout, where they got to see Mary up close. She was a very thin old lady, but her blue eyes were clear and sharp, the tilt of her lips a sarcastic smirk.
"Whatcha makin' now, kiddo, drapes?" she asked dryly.
"Nope. Suit."
"Getting' hitched?"
"I wish. No, not today, just a date." Mary's eyebrow arched, conveying her skepticism as she accepted his money.
"Just a date? I've never seen you make a suit before, kid."
"Well, maybe not just a date, Mar. Who knows, maybe I'll be back next week making an especially low-cut wedding dress," he said, waggling his eyebrows as he and Lance made their way out.
"And that?" Lance asked as they got outside.
"That was Mary, the cynical grouchy grandmother I never had. So how are things going with you and the Pryde of Bayville?"
Lance blinked, startled at the sudden change of topic. The only interest the others ever had in his relationship with Kitty was mocking him about it.
"Um… it's going really well actually," Lance said, unsure of what answer Pietro was looking for. Pietro just nodded, looking distant, and replied.
"That's good." There was a long pause, Lance growing more and more uncomfortable.
"I'm really sorry about this, yo," he blurted to break the silence. Pietro rolled his eyes and smiled ruefully.
"Lance, Lance, Lance. Don't start stealing Todd's catch phrase again, all right? I'm too depressed to smack you."
Lance sighed, shoving his hair out of his face.
"It still might work out, Pietro," he said.
"Hope springs eternal, eh Rocky?"
"It should, Speedy," Lance said as they pulled into the driveway. "My girlfriend walks through walls, we live with the frog prince, a fairy tale ending can't be too damn far off from where we are now."
When Friday at last arrived, the school day drifted by for both Pietro and Rogue, both beset by tension and anticipation which was flavored with despair. Kitty had insisted that Rogue take advantage of the school's offer to allow students to leave after lunch to get ready, and Rogue had a feeling her makeup would be at issue. She stood looking at the mirror in her locker. She sighed. Never had Goth makeup been more appropriate than it would be tonight, and tonight was the one night she wouldn't be allowed. She shut the locker door, and out of the corner of her eye, she saw him watching her, leaning on his shoulder against the rows, his head resting on the metal, face sad, serene and steady. She wanted what she always wanted, which was to run up and tackle him, hold him and kiss him, but really, what else was new. He looked long at her, then stood and walked up.
"Hi," he said.
"Hi," Rogue said, self-consciously brushing her hair out of her eyes.
"Lance told me that Kitty and Jean are throwing a little pre-dance party thing over at the mansion."
"Yeah, um…"
"Do you mind if I…?"
"No," Rogue felt her heart wrench as Pietro looked crushed.
"No?"
"I mean- wait. Do I mind if you come?"
"Yes, cause I'd really like to get pictures at least…"
"No. No I don't mind."
"So… I'll see you tonight?"
"Of course," Rogue replied. She couldn't help it, she reached up and touched his face with her gloved hand, and he leaned into the touch, smiling.
"Don't give up on me, okay stripes?" he said. "That's all I ask."
"I think I can manage that."
"I don't know whether to smile or cry," Kitty said as Rogue and Pietro parted. Lance rubbed the small of her back as both looked on.
"I know what you mean. Come on, let's get you home, kiddo. I gotta make sure Pietro doesn't kill himself, you gotta get Rogue in a dress. We both got our work cut out for us."
Arriving back at the mansion, Kitty and Jean each grabbed one of Rogue's elbows and put her in Jean's room, got themselves dressed and made up in a flurry of activity, then moved on to Rogue. Two black combs held her hair away from her face, the dress clinging to her shoulders and stopping in the middle of her forearms, small black gloves covering her hands. Now she sat in the chair, terrified for her life as she looked over the implements Jean had laid out in front of her. More frightening still was the fact that Jean flat out refused to use her hands.
"Jean, this is scary!" Rogue said as tiny brushes flew at her from all angles.
"Well if I use my hands I can't see what I'm doing!" Jean protested. "Now hold still."
When Rogue looked in the mirror, she saw that Jean had taken her Goth look and turned it on its edge. Her face was still pale, eyes and lips still dark, but rather than looking like a ghoul she looked like a silent film star.
"You sure this doesn't make me look helpless?" Rogue asked. Jean smiled.
"I think the word you're looking for is pretty. They're not necessarily synonymous." Kitty ran through the door, beaming.
"They're here!" she giggled, jumping up and down. Rogue took a deep breath, stood up and headed for the stairs.
Pietro and Lance sat on the loveseat, facing down quite the panel: McCoy, Xavier, Summers and god help them Logan.
"You sober, kid?" Logan growled at Lance. "And by sober I mean you haven't laid a finger on anything fermented in the past 48 hours."
"Yes sir, cold sober sir," Lance replied. Logan nodded.
"You better smell the same way when you get home, Rocky, or I'll have to ruin that nice suit of yours."
Pietro suppressed a chuckle as Lance paled, which of course earned him Logan's immediate attention.
"Somethin' funny, blondie?" Pietro shook his head. "Good. Cause if Rogue runs home carrying your ass and talking like a speed freak, I'm gonna gut your comatose corpse."
"If you're done threatening the boys, Logan, I believe the ladies are ready," McCoy said, looking at the stair case behind them. Pietro leapt up, darting to the bottom of the stairs before the sentence was even complete. The tension was palpable as Kitty, too impatient to take the stairs to see Lance, phased directly through them and leapt on him in a big hug.
"Wow Lance, you look so nice!"
"You're quite a looker yourself, Miss Pryde!" Lance smiled, picking her up and spinning her around. Jean came down the stairs with more grace, extending her hand into the air, Scott racing to take it. Pietro's patience was wearing thin when he saw Rogue at the top of the stairs. It was the first time he'd been able to clearly see her face without pushing her hair aside. It seemed to take a lifetime for her to get down the stairs to him, but he would not have sped it up for anything, as she slowly approached, pale and dark, textured and smooth.
"You look really amazing," Rogue said softly, taking one of her gloves off to touch his suit. "Wow… it's so soft."
"Not as soft as you, my angel," Pietro replied suavely, grabbing her still gloved hand and kissing it. Hell, one of them had to break the tension, and the best way he knew how to put Rogue at ease was to be himself. Her face broke into a smile as he gave her his arm and they joined the other four.
"Wow, Rogue, you look really different," Scott said. He shut up as Jean telekinetically pinched his butt, her face as impassive as the sphinx.
"She looks ravishable," Pietro purred. "Ing. Ravishing," he amended as Lance smacked him upside the head.
"You got film in that thing, Chuck?" Logan asked as the three adults began their barrage of flashes and clicks. Eventually they were allowed to leave.
"So whose car are we taking?" Kitty asked. Scott balked at the suggestion that they'd be taking any car other than his, and the argument ensued.
"Quick question, Rogue," Pietro asked as Lance and Scott postured.
"What?"
"How stable is your hairstyle?"
"Pretty stable, wh-" Pietro didn't need to hear anymore, he just took off his jacket and held it out to her. Perplexed, she put it on, yelping as he swept her off her feet.
"Lance, Summers, we'll meet you there," Pietro smiled, and took off. Scott sighed and Lance smacked his forehead.
"Well, we walked right into that one," Lance said. "Come on Summers, we'll take your little toy car. Just try not to drive like my grandmother, all right?"
Pietro came to a halt at the edge of the school grounds and set Rogue down gently.
"Hope that wasn't too blustery for you," he said, smoothing his suit, then her hair. Rogue handed him his jacket back with a smile.
"Only way to fly," Rogue smiled, slipping her arm through his and walking into the school. It was a lot like the last dance, really, except there weren't any dinosaurs, and Rogue had a date.
"You look perplexed," Pietro said. "What's up?"
"The music," Rogue said. "It's not as terrible as it usually is at these things…" Rogue looked over at the D.J. station and saw why.
"Forge?!" she exclaimed. Sure enough, Forge was spinning, and who was lingering next to him but Risty, who waved wildly on seeing her.
"Hey there, Pietro, I thought you were taking Rogue to the dance, I don't recognize this femme fatale!" Risty grinned.
"I thought you said you weren't coming!" Rogue cried as she leaned over the table to give Risty a hug.
"Well, Forge asked if I'd keep him company while he spins, and god knows someone had to keep this from turning into a disco inferno or a Woodstock 2002 or something. That and he's just so cute, the little flower child," Risty grinned, bumping Forge with her hip.
"Who you callin' cute, Eurotrash?" he said, grabbing her and giving her a noogie. "Any requests?" he asked over Risty's yelps.
"I got one," Pietro grinned, leaning over the table and whispering to Forge.
"Oh, I love that song!"
"Not yet, wait till later, okay?" Pietro said. Forge nodded and waved them away.
"I just hope that wasn't Def Leopard you requested," Rogue said, poking Pietro in the side.
"Nah," Pietro said, kissing the back of her gloved hand. "I wouldn't do anything to ruin this."
They danced happily, undisturbed until Kitty, Jean, Lance and Scott arrived, and Jean tapped Rogue on the shoulder.
"I believe we have an appointment?" she said. Rogue took a deep breath and followed, and Pietro followed after, eyebrow arched. Kitty came along and phased all of them into a locked classroom, the room where Rogue usually had English. The moon was about three quarters full, the cold light pouring into the room. Jean was struck dumb by the image as she turned back to Pietro and Rogue. The blue white of the moonlight made him look like an ice sculpture, with his blue eyes and snow white suit and hair. Rogue looked like a ghost or an angel, the black dress striking against her skin. They both looked vulnerable, and though she wasn't much older, at that moment they looked painfully young to Jean. Far too young to be having such a burden placed on them by life.
"Well," she said after a moment. "I hope I know what I'm doing."
"Jean's gonna show you what it was like when we were together," Rogue explained. "I mean, if you want to…"
Pietro's face lit up like a chandelier.
"Of course I do!" he looked at Jean. "You can really do that?"
Jean smiled nervously.
"In theory. I've never tried it before… we should probably sit down. You two face each other, okay? This is probably gonna feel weird. Um… keep your eyes open, and maintain eye contact, it'll probably make things go smoother."
"It wasn't all wonderful, Pietro, there were some nightmares too…" Rogue said, swallowing hard. He smiled so sweetly that she could have sworn her heart stopped.
"Do I have to say something romantic, or will you just believe I have to see?"
Jean smiled. With a little training, maybe she could get Scott to be close to that sweet. She put one hand on the top of Rogue's head and the other on Pietro's.
"Here goes nothing," she said.
Pietro's resting pulse was twenty five beats per second, but as the past few weeks flooded into his head, he could swear it sped up to five hundred, or maybe it stopped. Sometimes going a million miles an hour feels just like standing still, he thought.
He saw Rogue's initial irritation with his presence, but even then there was a warmth. He saw the first nightmare, the one he'd engineered, saw Rogue's jealousy of Jean and Scott and their simple ability to touch. He saw the naughty Gothic erotica she indulged in, and the longing that lay behind it, her embarrassment at his knowledge. He saw her fear at the idea that he could see into her head and find out what she thought, did, dreamed, and could barely believe that in a couple short weeks she was ready to show him it all. He saw the initial reaction of disbelief and annoyance with which she viewed his request for a date, but he could sense underlying pain there, and felt slightly guilty that it had happened that way, that he'd initially asked her out so that she would have a better opinion of him. It was those protests that had won him over more fully, that had changed his egocentric wish into one focusing more on spending time with her. He saw the mosaic of mixed emotions he'd triggered when he started calling her his girlfriend, the way she'd been slightly turned on when she caught him looking up her skirt. He felt the point where everything had turned around, that moment of understanding when she'd brought him up to her room, after the first time he touched her on purpose.
Without all the words getting in the way… He saw her using his powers, and felt how novel feeling free was to her, who usually faced so many restrictions. He watched her stand up to Summers, and then watched her try to kill Summers until Jean intervened in the best possible way. He saw the hell he'd put her through while they were on a caffeine high, he saw all the little treasures he'd found in her mind. It was like they'd spent a lifetime together already, for all the memories they had to show. He'd shown her how to run up walls, and in the danger room they played together, using his powers to wind down. He saw with relief the brief life and crashing death of Rogue's crush on Scott, their mutual understanding of the futility of fighting when nothing seemed to change no matter how many battles they had. He savored the memory of her taking a shower, running her razor over legs which so rarely saw sunlight. He saw their Scrabble game, and shivered at how close they'd come to kissing in that perfect, perfect world. He felt the twisting in her heart that arose when she realized how close she'd become to him in her mind, and that when he woke he would not remember.
Then he saw the nightmare. Mystique, Rogue's mother. Magneto, his father. That damned slide show… Wanda… two lost kids with an evil parent and a long-lost twin, Pietro thought. How's that for coincidence. He saw how Rogue had sobbed in Jean's arms, the dream terrifying her. He saw her talking to the professor, felt the fear she felt- god, his own father was the most powerful mutant alive, and he never seemed to run out of 'plans' for Pietro. He felt Rogue's hope, which echoed his own, that Mystique and Magneto were really dead and gone, never to come calling again. There were his own memories, seeing her again after the 'lost weekend' as she kept calling it, seeing the sorrow in her face and wondering what the hell he'd done to her, his partial relief finding out that she liked him, that she'd had fun with him, and then realized that was the only way she could be happy, to have him with her in her head, since she couldn't touch him outside of it. Touching her again. Thinking Logan might kill him. Seeing her touching his unconscious face and being pretty certain it was love. It all came flooding back, then the flood slowed, until all that came across the connection was love, and then it was gone.
Jean didn't need to ask if it had worked. One look at their faces was enough to assure her it certainly had. She stood, and walked to the door, leaving the two of them alone. From the speakers a room away, they could hear Forge's voice on the P.A.
"This one is a request from Pietro Maximoff, just proving that some people born after 1975 can actually recognize a good song."
The strains of the music started, and Pietro smiled.
"They're playing our song, stripes."
"Crazy, I'm crazy for feeling so lonely…" the song crept into the room, "I'm crazy, crazy for feeling so blue…"
His hummingbird-fast heart broke in his chest as her eyes filled with tears.
"God, don't cry, please, sweetheart…" he said, pulling her towards him. She let him take her awkwardly in his arms and she shut her eyes against the tears that threatened as the music played on
"… for somebody new…. Worry, why do I let myself worry? Wond'ring, what in the world did I do? Oh crazy, for thinking that my love could hold you!" Rogue pulled slowly away, her eyes shining but not yet overflowing. Pietro stroked her hair, and they stared at each other in silence again, until Pietro couldn't take anymore.
"Rogue, I'm sorry."
"What for?"
"This," he said, leaned forward and kissed her.
"I'm crazy for tryin' and crazy for cryin', and I'm crazy for loving you."
She kissed him back, his lips warm and sweet as his arms crept around her waist.
"Crazy, for thinking that my love could hold you, I'm crazy for tryin' and crazy for cryin' and I'm crazy for loving you…"
Her hands tangled in his hair and then finally her pleasure gave way to a question. Why is he still conscious? Pietro broke the kiss and stared at her incredulously.
"Why are you still conscious?" she asked out loud.
"I don't care," he said back, and kissed her again.
Logan lifted the edge of the curtains and peered outside, just reassuring himself that all Pietro and Rogue were doing in the back of Scott's car was kissing.
"Jesus, he knows she still needs oxygen, right?" he grumbled.
Professor Xavier and Dr. McCoy both smiled at each other and at Logan's fatherly grumbling.
"I'm just perplexed as to how this happened, Hank," Xavier mused.
"I think it's a question of homeopathic immunity, Charles," McCoy replied. "From what I've been able to discern, Rogue's DNA is interesting indeed. Her X-Factor gene is permanently unstable, and constantly in search of data to fill in the blanks. The boy kept touching Rogue over and over again, with a small time lapse between regaining consciousness and touching her again. Like someone who takes small doses of poison and survives, each has become essentially immune to the other. Rogue's DNA has memorized the alleles which give Pietro his speed, stamina, and physiological advantages like bone strength and thus no longer needs to absorb them. I wouldn't be surprised if she could deliberately manifest his powers now."
"Intriguing," Xavier replied. Logan just growled, still peering out the window.
"There are more things in heaven and earth, Charles, than are dreamt of in your philosophy."
Xavier momentarily thought about his philosophy, a world where humans and mutants lived in peace, and then thought about the two young mutants kissing in the chill early Spring air.
"I don't know about that, Hank," he smiled.