Chapter 4
As she walked out the special early-morning meeting, Julia O'Shaughnessey missed a step, her eyes wide, lips slightly parted. Her aide reached out to support her unobtrusively, saying out of the corner of his mouth, "What is it?"
"Nicky," she whispered back, recovering, her voice still holding the slight edge of shock even as her stride lengthened. "In danger." Her aide's lined faced hardened further, his mind jumping with possibilities. "Get me LeBeau--no dammit he's not there anymore. Get me a plane to New York, Westchester county. And cancel my meetings for the next few days."
"But Ms. O'Shaughnessey," began another aide, who had caught up to the pair, who were now close to running, in time to hear the last, "you have the full board scheduled for tomorrow--"
"I said cancel it, or reschedule, I don't care just do it," she snapped. The young man recoiled as if he had been bitten, dropped back. "Damn young wet behind the ears... It's my company, I can do what I want."
"Your board might not be as clear on that," her chief aide and closest friend suggested dryly.
"Damn them all to bloody hell, I'll make it clear. They'll just call it another mercurial mood shift and start keeping track of my period again."
"Last time they did that I made a fortune feeding people false information," he chuckled.
"I know, it's just lucky for you you gave me 30 percent, or you'd never have gotten away with it," she said, but the levity was brittle. He began to see that whatever was wrong with Nicky, must be serious indeed.
"It'll take us a couple of hours to get back to New York, I'll call ahead and have a limo waiting for you, what else will you be needing? Change of clothes? Cab half-way there? What?"
"Bless you, Michael, George doesn't know what a treasure you are. Yes, to all those things. Cash, too, can't go flaunting the credit cards just yet."
"I'll arrange it. You'll be going alone, then?" he asked as they slipped into the waiting limo.
"No--yes, yes, I think I will. It'll be easier to explain me than both of us. Besides, you have to play glue and keep things together until I get back."
He nodded, pressed a button in a small, walky-talky device he had in his pocket, heard the reassuring hum as the screening device activated itself, asked, "How serious is it? Did you get a flash, or..."
She shook her head, "You know those don't really come anymore. No, this was worse. He called me, Michael, screamed for me."
Michael stared. He knew Nicky almost as well as she did--they had both watched him grow up and he had never been the sort to call for help. "Perhaps a helicopter waiting at JFK would better serve."
"Yes, Michael, I think it would."
At the airport, while Michael tried to get them on the next flight out to New York, Julia tried contacting the school. She'd known it was a bad idea for him to be there, but he always did what he wanted and to hell with anyone else. Had been that way since he was little. Three, four, five rings, "Don't they have a machine, for God's sake?" finally she heard a pick up, "Hello? Hello, can I--"
"You have reached the Xavier School for Gifted Youngsters. No one is available to take your call..."
"Bastard machine... can't waste my time with this, damn it." She slammed the receiver down. She'd try again from the plane. She walked back to Michael, who was just coming away from the third airline counter. "They had a machine on. Had better luck?"
He nodded. "Two seats, business class, leaves in ten minutes."
"Gate?"
"43, we'll have to run."
She glanced at the nearest sign, they were at 5-10. "We work out, should be fine," she said, breaking into an easy sprint.
"You work out," he muttered, but strived to keep up with her. 'If the board of execs could see us now, running across an airport like a couple of thieves. Pity I don't have a polaroid, they'd pay good money for that,' he thought.
'Keep your greedy thoughts to yourself and run,' she said in his mind. He grinned and went a little faster.
They got there as the assistants were preparing to close the gate, showed their tickets and ran aboard. Both were breathless and a little flushed, but grinning like village idiots. "Haven't done that in years," she said, a sparkle in her dark eyes. "And not even for first class."
"Sorry, that was booked. We'll slum for one trip."
"Actually, this isn't that bad, I think I'm gonna start making all those cry babies take business instead of first on all those 'must be there personally' trips."
"There'll be a palace revolt."
She shrugged, "Sometimes I think nothing better could happen. As long as the guillotine was kept out of it, I'd abdicate peacefully."
"About as peacefully as a sabertooth-tiger."
She grinned, "All right, maybe I can't change my stripes... Only thing to do then is keep the claws sharp, eh?"
He glanced over at her and saw that those claws were presently gripping the arms of the seat. "Now Julia, don't do damage to this airplane, we don't own it."
She unclenched her hands but the knuckles were still white. "We should have brought the jet," she muttered. "This damn thing isn't taking off."
"It would have gotten snagged in red tape, filing flight plans and all that. Besides, we're already starting to taxi, we'll be there soon," he assured her, though her tension was contagious.
"As soon as we're airborne I'll call the school again, you take care of the other arrangements."
He nodded. "No sooner said than done. Helicopter at JFK, bag with change of clothes in the back, and a taxi near the school. I'll give you 10 minutes post each landing for travel, changing or unexpecteds."
"Perfect. You really are a marvel, Michael," she turned and gave him wan smile. "What would you and George like for the thirtieth anniversary? Private getaway island? Moon on a platter?"
"I think he wants to remodel the kitchen," he said, wanting to encourage the chit chat, get her mind away from this danger to Nicky.
"What, again? Didn't you do that two years ago?"
"Yes, when he said he had to have the sunflower walls to create his culinary masterpieces."
"I suppose chefs are particular about that sort of thing."
"You have no idea. Now he says the yellow is suffocating him. They're going to repaint the restaurant, too."
"Oh my..."
"Yes, M'sieur Renault considers it a small price to pay for keeping his cash flow intact." Michael wrinkled his nose, "He's got ventilation up the wazoo. But that paint smells up the whole apartment for days."
"What color does the master want this time?"
"Baby blue," Michael sighed. He hated the color. But he loved George, and George's meals--he really was a genius when it came to culinary matters.
She patted his arm sympathetically, "I know it's far from your favorite color."
"I hate it almost as much as Nicky." The minute he said the name he wished he could take it back.
Pained worry flashed briefly in her dark eyes, but she said with apparent calm, "Yes, he always thought he looked so silly in it. Told me in no uncertain terms never to get him anything in that color, stubborn even at four."
"Strong head, takes after his mother."
She flashed him another smile, "Yes, he does, the devil." She touched a necklace she wore hidden underneath the tailored business suit, seeing the charms--an ace of spades and a shamrock--in her mind. "Yes, he does."
The moment the captain turned off the "fasten your seatbelt" sign, Julia reached for the phone, with Michael right behind. While he made contact with the helicopter service they usually used, she tried the school. Again five rings and again a machine. "Blast it, they can't all be gone. Something's happened to my boy--" she slammed down the phone, fuming. Then a gleam lit her eye. Xavier was supposed to be a hot shot telepath. Her lips stretched to a grin, modern science had yet to invent a brain with an answering machine. Now that was just too bad for him, wasn't it?
Everything went exactly as Michael had planned it, though she had no doubts that it would. There was a small overnight bag waiting with the helicopter, and a purse with just enough cash to get her through and not arouse suspicion. "Give me a ring the minute you know anything... he's my godchild, and he owes me a rematch at poker."
She almost laughed, "I won't remind him, you and George couldn't afford it."
"Call me."
Sober now, she nodded, "The minute I know." She tried not to think about what she would know. Nicky's call had been so frantic, so powerful, and cut off so abruptly. Every time she thought of it, it sent shivers down her spine. That blasted Xavier had not been very forthcoming. She would change that once they met face to face. A grin lightened her face, maybe she shouldn't be so hard on him. He'd been rather poleaxed when she had 'called' him.
"We should be in your range, soon," Michael said in a low voice, glancing at his watch. She nodded, closing her eyes. 'Cover for me,' she said in his mind. He nodded.
This was a bit of a stretch, especially since she was trying to contact a mind she did not know. Now if Nicky were around... She took a deep breath and reached, using her fear, her worry, as fuel to send her mind far, trying to picture where he would be. 'Charles Xavier! Come on, boyo, answer me!'
She felt several minds respond, two female, one male, focused on the male. 'Who?' drifted back to her.
'Gambit's mamman, as he likes to say. You Charles Xavier?'
'Gambit's mother?'
'Keep up with me, laddie, and the name is Julia. What's happened to me boy?'
She felt his mind probe, hid what she wanted behind her shields, but allowed him to see enough so he knew she was telling the truth. 'There has been an... incident,' he phrased carefully after he had satisfied himself.
'You sound like a lawyer not a teacher. What's happened to me boy?'
'It would be best to give you all the details once you arrive. I sense that you are on a plane, I assume you're on your way?'
'You assume correctly. I'll be there in less than an hour and a half, already got transportation, thanks for the offer, though.'
She felt his mental nod. 'We hope to have more to tell you when you get here than at present.'
'Charlie, hope or no hope, I will find out exactly what happened to that boy. See you in a few.'
Those few seemed interminable. The helicopter felt too slow, especially since Michael wasn't with her. She kept sending out her mind, trying, always trying to reach Nicky but he seemed to be gone. There was nothing of him she could sense. Keeping the panic at bay by sheer force of will, she stared straight ahead, concentrating on how she would handle the questions they would have. Nicky hadn't told anyone about her as of the last time they'd talked nearly four weeks ago.
She shook her head, vowing to talk more often, be a real nag and demand to speak with him every day, hell she might even move to New York permanently. Wouldn't Nicky be shocked. For a moment she imagined the outrage in his eyes and nearly smiled. He didn't like being crossed, her Nicky, hated being smothered, too. Like mother like son.
The moment the helicopter landed she sprinted away, heading for the nearest rest room to change. She hadn't even bothered to check the clothes, sure that Michael would have selected something appropriate, or at least sent someone who would select something appropriate from her spare wardrobe.
Perfect. Jeans and a short sleeved shirt, not too young, not too matronly, and nondescript as could be. Pretending could be fun, both she and Nicky agreed on that, but this time her motives were deeper. She had made no secret of the fact that she didn't entirely agree with Nicky joining this school. She was going to be damn sure of them, of all of them, before she revealed too much.
The cab was waiting just where Michael had said it would be. She waved, jogging to it. "Going over to the School for Gifted Youngsters," she said as she hopped in. "In a hurry, too."
"Righto, ma'am. We'll be there inside of fifteen minutes."
She nodded and settled back, controlling her breaths, calming herself. Almost there, Nicky, almost there. Hang on a little longer, baby.
****
"Professor, we have an alert in the outer perimeter," Bishop said as he entered the Danger Room where the whole team had been gathered for nearly six hours now.
"Any identifiable threat?" Scott asked somewhat bitterly.
Bishop shook his head. "It's a car, a taxi, taking the private road to the gates."
"It must be his mother," Storm said. She glanced at her watch, "Right on time."
Charles sighed, "I had best see her myself. I wish there was something more I could tell her, I promised her..." He shook his head. "The rest of you, please continue with the search. Psylocke, Revanche, maintain a narrow field astral scan of the room." Both nodded though they did not need the direction, they had been doing just that for the past hour.
Bishop and Storm accompanied Charles as he went to his study. "Have Forge or Hank been reached yet?"
Bishop shook his head. "I last called Valerie Cooper about five minutes ago. Her aide said she would be back in twenty minutes. They were off surveying some new site and the magnetic fields have made communication difficult."
"Magneto active once again and now this. Things always happen in clusters, don't they?"
"It seems that way." The large man helped Charles from the hoverchair into a much less comfortable wheelchair.
"How much will she know?" Storm asked.
"I'm not sure. She knew enough to reach me telepathically, that indicates she's a mutant as well. Belladonna had said that no one knew who Gambit's real parents were, but this woman certainly is his mother. The concern was unmistakable, and their minds are a bit alike. If--when we get Gambit back I think I'll have a very long talk with him about keeping secrets."
"I'd like to be present at that conversation," Bishop said and though she smiled, Storm nodded as well.
"I'll keep that in mind." The gate buzzer rang. "Please escort her up to my study, Bishop."
The man left and Charles reached over and turned on the intercom. The woman stared right into the camera with a smile that did not reach her eyes. "You must be Charles Xavier."
"Julia...?"
"O'Shaughnessey. I hope you have an earful to tell me, boyo."
"I'll do my best, unfortunately there isn't much to tell."
"Oh, I think you know a wee bit more than that. You don't strike me as a man who tolerates insufficient information."
He could feel the level stare of her dark eyes even through the camera, and the more formidable mind behind it. "A student of mine will be at the gate momentarily to escort you to my study. We'll have more of an opportunity to discuss matters then."
"Playing the polite host, I see," she grinned, then glanced down the path, "and sent an ox for an escort. All right, Xavier, I'll play along. But I give ye fair warnin' I'm not a patient woman, and I don't stand for being lied to."
"Well, Ms. O'Shaughnessey, I'm quite prepared to take you at your word, though you seem less than willing to do the same for me."
She grinned again, "Don't get your dander up in a huff. Bad for the blood pressure. And I didna call you a liar. Yet."
"Saving that for our more formal meeting, are you?"
Now she did laugh, "I knew you had some spunk behind the polished manners. I'll look forward to trading barbs in person." With that she turned from the camera, effectively ending the interview.
Charles flicked the switch, shaking his head half in exasperation, half in admiration.
"She does not mince words, does she?" said Storm. "What will you tell her?"
"I think I'll end up telling her anything she wants to know."
"Is that wise?"
"It may be the wisest thing I have done in days," he said softly.
Ororo was standing behind Charles when Bishop brought their guest into the study, and studied her curiously. Gambit had never mentioned his mother or anyone named Julia, but then, he had never been exactly forthcoming.
She stood at just about average height, a woman in her early to mid forties, Storm guessed, in good shape. She wasn't a classic beauty, had fairly nondescript dark hair and dark eyes, but there was a vitality about her that set her apart.
Charles noticed the easy grace to her movements that intrigued in itself, but more so in that it seemed familiar. Abruptly he realized why. Gambit had the same grace, though his was raised to a level beyond mere balance to a true talent and agility.
"He is quite talented," Julia agreed, her study of them as deep as theirs had been of her. "And since I know we're all eager for answers, I'll start with the very real little I have." She took a deep breath, "First I heard he was in trouble was when he called me, something he rarely does, mind to mind."
Charles focused on the woman with the same intensity she was bending to him, noted the light Irish brogue. "What did he say?"
"He didn't say anything. He just called me. One word."
"Mother," they both said together.
"Now I know where he gets it from," Charles said softly.
She smiled, though it didn't reach her eyes. "Genetics are a funny thing, Xavier."
"Call me Charles."
"I'm Julia."
"Yes, I suppose they are quite a funny thing. Where were you when you heard?"
She hesitated a moment, said, "Chicago."
His eyes narrowed, "Quite a long ear you have."
"Mother-son bonds are queer things, I've heard him from half-way 'round this globe."
"When?" Charles asked curiously.
"A long time ago. What happened now? I tried to reach him right afterwards and oft-times since but there's not a blessed thing. Sure as I'm sittin' here I would know if he died so what happened?"
"We aren't sure entirely. He was in one of our training rooms along with two of my other students. He had successfully eliminated his obstacle when he and another student disappeared."
"That's a thread-bare story."
"A condition suffered by the whole of this situation."
"I know you have more than this, I wasn't lyin' when I said I had no patience. And I don't think Nicky has the time to waste."
"Nicky?"
She sighed, "He'll hate me for saying it. His birth name is Nicholas Raymond O'Shaughnessey. The LeBeau came with the Guild. Now I have no' held back from you, I expect the same."
He nodded, "Very well." He came around the desk and she saw the wheelchair for the first time, made no comment. "It would be easier, and faster for all our sakes, if I simply told you telepathically."
"Fine with me." She closed her eyes as Charles reached out a hand, preparing herself. 'You have a light touch,' she said when they were linked.
'Practice,' he replied. 'Are you ready?' She nodded, and he began presenting her with the events of that morning. He spared her nothing, as he knew she would prefer. Through his memories, she watched as Gambit went through the session, watched as Jean took him, watched as they kissed and disappeared. 'You did quite a bit of editin', Charles,' she said tartly as they paused.
He agreed.
'Are you ready for the pandemonium that followed?'
She nodded and they were off again.
Cyclops broke through the door as Rogue was beginning to wake up. As he ran around frantically calling for Jean and Psylocke went to help Rogue. Storm, the professor and Jubilee ran from the control room and were nearly run over by Bishop and Wolverine, who had reached and tried the door to the Danger Room first, then had given up and gone for the booth.
"What happened?" Logan asked, claws out.
The professor did not answer, but continued down the stairs faster.
Storm took it upon herself to tell them. "Gambit blew a hole in the Danger Room. Then Jean... she..."
"She was the one who sprung the box on you, wasn't she?" he asked softly.
She nodded, "And now she has Gambit."
"One step ahead of us."
They reached the door of the Danger Room. When Scott saw them, he ran over, "Professor, Jean's missing, Gambit's taken her somewhere--what caused the explosion?"
"Sugah, if anyone's done any takin' it's the redhead witch, not Gambit," said Rogue, getting to her feet with Psylocke's help.
"You're beyond reason, you've already lied to protect him, your word can't be trusted," Cyclops said. "Sir, what happened?"
"I'm afraid Rogue is correct. Jean was the one who caused them both to vanish, and I believe she is responsible for what happened to Ororo yesterday."
"That can't be. Jean would never do anything to hurt Storm, Gambit must be responsible, you must be mistaken, he made it look like it was her, that's all."
"I saw it as well, Scott, and though I do not want to believe Jean would harm me, I cannot deny that truth."
"Jean had no reason to do any of this. She's the one that saved you yesterday--"
"She's also the one that lied about where she was," Logan cut in. "Don't want to believe it of Jeannie any more than you do, Slim, but her scent gave it away and the tapes are there. She wasn't out for a jog while Storm was in trouble, she was standing in the woods, right outside the mansion the whole time. Plus she's one of the people who always spends a lot of time with Cerebro, she'd have a much better shot of monkeying the works to get that box here than the Cajun ever would."
"I've seen the tapes Wolverine refers to, Cyclops, Gambit was not responsible--"
"I can't believe what I'm hearing. Jean's in trouble, kidnapped by a thief we know next to nothing about and you're trying to tell me she's responsible? Have all of you taken leave of your senses?"
"Sugah, have you taken leave of yours?"
"Your word--"
"Can't be trusted, yeah Ah know. Ah'm beginnin' to see why Gambit might not have told y'all everything. But in any case you're wrong cuz it's not just my word, it's me, and the professor, and Ororo, and Logan and Cerebro--for heaven's sake even Bishop's saying it wasn't Gambit, but you ain't listenin. Can you find the one who's taken leave of his senses in this picture?"
"You and Storm are friends of his--"
"Why would the professor lie? How could Gambit have tricked him? What about Cerebro--he's a machine, he ain't got no reason to lie. And there ain't nobody here can say that Bishop would stand up for Gambit for any other reason than he's just plain innocent."
"But--"
"Scott, I understand your feelings for Jean. I've loved her as my own daughter. I know this is difficult for you, as for all of us, but while I don't understand why she has done this, there seems very little doubt that she has. It's possible that she was not in complete control of herself--"
"That has to be it," Scott said almost desperately, "Maybe one of her old personalities coming back, Madelyne Pryor or the Phoenix, but I can't understand why she'd go after Gambit and not me. If she's really done this."
Xavier eyed him tiredly, "Perhaps, though the impressions I received through her shields do not conform to what we know of Madelyne or the Phoenix." He frowned, "The duality of personality was there, but the other persona... I don't believe I've ever felt anyone like that."
"Perhaps if we can amplify the tapes of the conversation between them we will learn something more." Storm glanced at the professor, then away, "And while it is not something I can identify readily, there was something very familiar about her laughter."
"We'll pour over the records. Bishop, try to contact Forge, he may be able devise a way to extract more from the systems. Psylocke, you, Revanche and myself will do a psychic and astral sweep of the room. The rest of you take the personal scanners from the war room and do a thorough electronic sweep to verify Cerebro's readings. He was tampered with before, she could have arranged it again."
'Sounds to me like she wouldn't have bothered, the lass was aiming to have her final exit this morning, no need to cover her tracks any further,' Julia said as she emerged from the memories. 'Have your sensors found anything?'
"No," Charles answered, aloud. "We haven't found a single thing."
She, too opened her eyes, seeing the people before her in a new light. "You're the wind rider, Storm, aren't you?" Julia said suddenly.
Ororo nodded, pain in her eyes, "Gambit and I are friends, Ms. O'Shaughnessey. He saved my life yesterday, I regret I was unable to return the favor today."
"From what I gather, there wasn't anything you could have done. And if I know Nicky, he didn't make it easier. The boy keeps his own counsel far too much."
"In this case, he had perhaps cause," Storm said. "There are some of us too ready to lay blame--"
Bishop stiffened. "I have resins."
"I'd like to hear those, boyo, but another time. You strike me as fair, though, when you're hit over the head with the facts, that is," Julia said with a slight smile.
"Would you care to see the Danger Room for yourself?" Charles said.
She nodded, "Looked like something special, all right. Nicky mentioned it was entertaining."
He glanced at Ororo, "Would you guide her there, please? I want to move to my proper chair and try to reach Forge one last time."
She gave nod, moving out from behind the desk. "If you'll follow me."
Julia rose and made sure to close the door behind them, a momentary twinkle in her eye as she sent out a thought, 'He's going to burst, you know, best let him spout for a moment or two. We don't have time to indulge in more.'
Charles gave a nearly imperceptible nod, turned to Bishop, who true to prediction, fairly burst out, "Sir, while I have the greatest respect for you, perhaps in this matter you may have been somewhat hasty. We know nothing of her save that she claims to be a telepath and Gambit's mother. Neither of these things inspire confidence or the kind of trust you have demonstrated--"
"In this situation, these things are precisely what inspire my trust and confidence. I have touched her mind, Bishop. She allowed it. Her fear is too sharp, it is a mother's fear for her child. That truth is not in question. My one cause for concern comes from the fact that she is telling the truth. She doesn't know what happened any more than we do, but she will do anything to find out and get her son back safely, no matter what, or who, it may cost."
"You are that certain she is telling the truth?"
"Yes." 'Not the whole truth,' Charles qualified to himself, he had learned that much from their contacts, but he wasn't sure that what she hadn't revealed was pertinent to this situation. Later, when the crisis was over, he would want to know, but for now, let her have her secrets.
****