••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

"He that came seeing, blind shall he go…Go in, and think on this. When you can prove me wrong, then call me blind."

-Sophocles

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Chapter Twenty-Five: To See Through the Dust

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Kitty snapped her bubblegum and let her foot trail across the water's surface. She wrapped her arm around her calf, leaning her chin on her knee and looking as if she were lost deeply in thought. Beside her, Nat lay on her stomach on the end of the dock, absently playing with a stick that floated on the water. She seemed distracted, far away. Jean was swimming in slow, lazy laps back and forth in front of the dock, her hair spreading around her like a scarlet cloud.

It hadn't been long since the so-called "chance" meeting with Pietro and Lance. Once their surprise visitors were gone and the damaged tire had been replaced, a very frustrated and annoyed van-full of X-Men continued on their way, setting up camp only a few hours behind their original schedule, their equipment a bit scuffed and dirty but otherwise none the worse for wear.

The girls, save Rogue, had taken their chance to get out to the water. Now, all three were enjoying the sunshine and the lake, clad in brightly colored bathing suits. Atop her head, Nat wore the ratty red baseball cap, hastily retrieved from the roadside thicket. Kitty eyed it warily.

"Why are you still wearing that hideous thing? He's not around to see it, you know."

From the water, a passing Jean slapped lightly at Kitty's knee and gave her a withering look, but disappeared beneath a small wave and swam away before Kitty could retaliate. Nat rolled onto her back and held up a hand to shade her face from the sun. "I don't know. I just like it, I guess."

"Well, if you ask me, he could've gotten you flowers or something rather than giving you his, like, used headwear."

The dark-haired girl shrugged and grinned. "It's the thought that counts, Kit. It wasn't really meant as a gift-gift. Just…I don't know, a niceness-gift. He wasn't out to impress me."

Kitty snorted, smiling crookedly. "That's for sure."

They stayed that way for a long time, companionably silent. Kitty kicked and splashed in the water a little, spraying Nat's shoulders with cool droplets, while Jean glided past. Nat shivered but laid still, eyes drifting shut drowsily. Rubbing her eyes, she propped herself up on her elbows and glanced down the shoreline, where several of the others had unfurled their fishing poles. "You think the guys have caught anything over there?"

With a breathy sigh, Kitty rose to her feet and stretched. "I hope not. Fish is disgusting. Anyway, we'd probably better head to camp." Nat nodded, and Jean ignored them both. Kitty cupped her hands around her mouth and shouted. "We're heading back!"

Down the shore a ways, the small figures that were really Scott and Kurt waved in agreement, and moved to start packing up their poles and the foam cooler. Kitty and Nat rolled their towels into little bundles and pulled on their shorts, waiting for Jean to drag herself onto the dock. The three walked slowly down the shore to meet the others, still dripping and relishing the feel of an early, summery breeze on their damp skin, and from there they turned onto the trail that would lead them back to camp. Scott had hoisted the cooler onto his shoulder, and Jean sidled up beside him, nonchalantly easing the load slightly with a touch of teke.
As they neared the clearing in which they had set up their tents and cooking area, Nat cautiously slipped her wet, silty hands into Kurt's mildly fish-scented ones. He grinned and started happily swinging his fishing pole, grasping her fingers in return. She'd been quiet on the ride to the campsite, apparently troubled by the talk she'd had with Pietro, and neither Jean nor Logan said much either. Kurt didn't ask questions, just sat beside her all the way, silently acting as her brace.

Kurt knew as well as Jean did that there was something wrong, but tried not to show it. This was his way. Let her feel bad about whatever was bothering her, don't push her for information, and stand silently by, ready to listen if she were to change her mind. So far, she hadn't, but when she took his hand things seemed to be getting back on the right track. He leaned in close, smelling the clean scent of water and clay from the lake bottom on her skin, wanting to pull her close but restrained by the prying eyes of the others nearby. Instead, he winked at her, nuzzling her neck a little so she began to blush.

"I like your hat, mein Flamme."

She grinned. "Oh, thanks. A good friend gave it to me."

A few yards away, Kitty rolled her eyes, and Jean ignored them all, turning the attention back to the contents of the cooler. "Catch anything good?"

Scott grinned and patted the side of the large foam box as they rounded the edge of camp, unaware that Jean had been helping him. He eased the cooler down beside the campfire, and the group scattered to their various spots of comfort. "A couple of good sized trout. Definitely enough for dinner, as long as Logan decides to share."

Kitty ignored Scott's joke and screwed up her face, sticking out her tongue as she hopped onto the seat of an old, weathered picnic table, leaving enough space for Nat beside her. "There'd better be something other than dead animals to eat, or I'm going on a hunger strike."

Exiting a nearby tent in which she had spent the afternoon napping, Rogue joined Kitty and Nat at the table and gave Kitty a peculiar look. "We're only gonna be out here for three days, Kitty. Ah'm pretty sure you can survive that long without your tofu an' iced tea."

The younger girl cocked her head to the side, placing her hands on her hips in irritation. "That's so totally beside the point! It's the principle of the matter, and this is, like, completely unprincipled!"

Evan laughed, popping the top of a soda can and taking an enormous gulp. "Careful, Rogue. Make her mad, and you better duck and cover, 'cause the Vengeance of Valley Girl has begun!"

Kitty stamped her foot, her little white hands twisted into fists. "For the last time, I am not a valley girl! I'm from New York, for God's sake!"

Nat laughed despite herself, trying to block her grin with a water bottle by pretending to take a sip. As she tried to turn the tide of conversation away from Kitty's valley girl-esque mannerisms, Evan and Kitty continued to bicker beside her, so she turned to the next available conversationalist: Rogue. "Where's Logan?"

The auburn-haired girl shrugged, coiling a strand of that odd white streak around her gloved finger. "He said he was goin' out for a walk about an hour ago. Ah think he'll be back soon. He wouldn't wanna miss supper, after all."

From the edge of camp, Scott held up a large, scaly fish that shimmered in its silvery skin, and tapped it with the blade of a small knife. "Speaking of supper, anybody who helped catch the fish better get over here and help me gut them." Kurt sauntered over, patting Nat's shoulder on the way. As the guys began the dinner preparations by slicing open the fish, Kitty squealed and made a fake gagging motion. Rogue rolled her eyes and grabbed a fish from the cooler, snatching one of the pocket knives and setting to work to emphasize her point.

"Oh, please. Ah've had tah gut a lot worse, ya baby."

Kitty cringed and turned up her nose at the thought, harrumphing indignantly under her breath. "That's not a good thing, Rogue!"

The sun had begun to dip below the tops of the trees, bathing the forest and the clearing in a golden haze. Tired of waiting for Wolverine to return, Scott put the fish on the fire, letting them spit and sizzle on the heavy iron skillets. Nat, still seated at the picnic table, felt a movement beside her, which turned out to be Kurt sitting down. He smiled at her, and she returned the gesture, letting him drape his arm casually over her shoulder. Her eyes, tired after a long day, closed, and she leaned her head back to rest on his shoulder.

The sound of dishes rattling returned her to reality, and when she opened her eyes Logan was just reappearing at the edge of the camp, lured out of the sheltering near-darkness of the forest by the smell of food. He caught her eye, and she averted her gaze quickly, feeling ashamed and more than a little embarrassed.

She could feel Kurt's warm breath on her neck, slow and steady, and his strong hands looped around her and clasped at the waist. Her body went taut at the sight of Logan, memories of her earlier transgressions flooding back, and she had to fight to resist the urge not to fidget. Logan's gaze was strong, staring at her until he felt that she was sufficiently discomfited, as if searching for evidence of some further lapse in proper behavior. Kurt gave her a quick squeeze, kissing her briefly on the cheek and releasing her to go fix their plates.

As he let go and walked toward the fire, where Evan was serving the food, she shivered at the strange coolness of the empty air where his body had been. Jean was watching her, looking confused.

There's definitely something odd going on with that one, Jean thought to herself. Nat always reacted so strangely to Pietro, and today had been even more illustrative of the fact. Jean knew that the younger girl harbored an intense desire to hear Pietro's side of things, which was beginning to worry her. Of course, there was no reason to think that Nat would actually join the Brotherhood, or even seriously entertain the idea, but she was undeniably attracted to the thought.

This wasn't something that was exclusive to Natalie Fairbanks, not even close. Every time there was an incident like the one with Kurt at the amusement park, another occurrence of anti-mutant brutality, some X-Man or another considered thoughts of revenge, of some sort of small retribution against a heartless society that allowed it and actually promoted it at times. Jean, from time to time, could understand the views of Magneto and his students. There was, always, the part of any person being oppressed that believed the oppressors should be punished rather than simply taught the correct way to do things. It might feel good, it might feel right, to punish people like the so-called Friends of Humanity, rather than protect them from the many dangers that they didn't even know they faced.

But those weren't the thoughts that the X-Men, as young and passionate as they were about the world, could allow themselves to undergo. They were the ideas of Magneto, of Mystique, of the Brotherhood.

They were the ideas of the rest of the world.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

"So, you really think there's something to this?"

Irene nodded, the dim light from the table lamp casting eerie shadows over her face. "I'd say that the chance is very good. The potential for enormous power is certainly there; whether or not that has anything to do with some sort of ancient prophecy is something entirely separate." She leaned forward to pour more tea into her cup, her hand shaking slightly and sloshing the warm, watery liquid onto the lip of the saucer.

Raven leaned back in her seat, pressing her fingertips to her chin and frowning slightly. How odd it must be, she thought, to be able to see so much about the world but be sightless at the same time. "It's rather convenient that the prophecy happens to appear to be accurate, don't you think? These things don't just…occur. There must be some merit in it, if it's so precise."

"Perhaps. More likely, though, it's just a lucky coincident. Very lucky." She smiled. "For you at least."

The other woman chuckled softly to herself, shaking her head. The room was lit with a muted light, shadowy, and full of dust that Irene didn't seem to notice. The plush couch where the two were seated was pale and old, with worn upholstery in a pattern of blue flowers, and a faded pleat of fabric along the bottom. The tea set, in silver and creamy white porcelain, waited homily on the table, bearing hot peppermint tea and tiny hard cookies on a plate, untouched. She licked her lips, the question she wanted to ask so badly finally spilling forth. "What do you think our chances are of getting her to join us?"

Eyes shaded behind her dark glasses, Irene began to squirm slightly. "From what I know of the girl, and what I know of your kids, I think you have a good shot at her. The only problem—" she paused "—is your boy."

Raven's jaw went rigid and her eyes flashed, but Irene didn't see it, of course. "I was afraid of that."

"He's settled with Xavier and that means that she is as well. If she wants to stay with him as much as I suspect she does, she won't do anything to endanger her chances with him. Anything, such as going against him and his friends." There was an ironic twinge in her voice. "Young love, don't you know?"

Mystique cleared her throat and took a sip of tea to squelch the odd, fluttering feeling in her stomach. "We can't let that get in the way. The last time I heard from Pietro, he said that she seemed to be having some second thoughts about joining Xavier's institute."

Irene nodded, her face solemn. "He's right about that, I would guess. Everyone doubts their purpose from time to time. Still, I don't think some nagging doubts are enough to change her mind. But I see that she will probably come around in time, given the right…motivations."

A sigh escaped Mystique's tired throat. "Unfortunately, she's been there for a while now, and Xavier's been able to spoon-feed her any story that he chooses, about goodwill toward man and protection of those that hate us, and other tripe of the sort."

This pulled a chuckle from Irene, who smiled wryly around her teacup. "It's an appealing story to the young and naïve, Raven. I'm sure you understand the desire for a positive purpose. Even you must have had one once."

"We've had this discussion before, Irene. I still have one. It's just not the same kind of positive purpose." She stood in front of the window, looking out over the quiet street through the curtains, which were ruffled in the draft created by a box fan propped against the wall. "Xavier thinks that the world can be saved by playing on the good intentions of a few isolated humans. He believes, quite earnestly I think, that we can overcome our current situation with words, with diplomacy." The fan blew a strand of hair around her face, coiling it around her elegant, shell-like ear. "But what he doesn't seem to realize is that they don't want diplomacy. They want to hate us, and imprison us, and blame us for every problem on the planet when it's their broken techniques that have led to the degeneration of humanity, not the existence of mutants. We're the ones with the God-given right to inherit all of their mess, so we're the ones that have to clean it up. Xavier and his X-Men just don't have a strong enough grip on reality to realize that pretty sentiments aren't going to solve this situation in the most constructive manner."

Irene sighed, absently stroking the handle of her teacup with her thumb. "A worthy goal, in its own right. But do you honestly think that getting hold of this girl is going to accomplish it?"

Mystique laughed, a harsh, sarcastic sound. "Of course not! There are countless powerful mutants that could join our cause, and would be grateful to do so."

"So why do you want this Fairbanks kid so badly?"

She blinked. "You know, Irene."

"Fine. I know. I know she's powerful, or potentially so, and I know what you plan to do with her abilities. Just tell me that it's what you want, and I'll let it go forever."

"It's what I want, you know-it-all. Why would I be working for it so hard, if it wasn't?"

Irene paused, chin held high. "Because it's what he wants, and you're as afraid as anyone else to go against him. Anyone but Xavier, that is."

Mystique's jaw tightened, and her pale eyes narrowed. "Magneto's desires are my desires, in this case and in many others. If we are to build a strong following, one with the power and determination to defeat the enemy, we need to not only strengthen ourselves but to weaken the enemy as well. The best way to deteriorate any enemy is to fortify yourself and your defenses, and vice versa. So, we will do both at the same time, and do both well."

"Listen to yourself, Darkholme! You speak as if you're building up an army!"

"Aren't I?"

Irene got to her feet as if the movement pained her. As she watched Mystique, she saw for a moment, behind her blind eyes and inside her mind, that the other woman looked almost pitiable, and had been that way for some time now. Deep lines that hadn't been there not long before had formed around her mouth, and her eyes, despite their almost fanatical light, were fatigued. She was weak with exhaustion, defeat. In as fast a flash, Irene's premonition of a drained and defeated Mystique was gone, and she stood in the room with the Mystique that really was, a sturdy, fixated woman with a task and a method. She shook her head, exiting slowly and calling back over her shoulder, "I'm done with this today, Raven. Please show yourself out."

Raven stood alone in the living room, surrounded by the dimness and the dust of years of blindness. She left on quiet, lilting footsteps, switching off the light behind her.