Disclaimer: This is a work of fan-fiction based on properties of Marvel Comics. I am making no undue claim nor any material profit.
Notes: Sequel to "Tapestry of Fire." Many thanks to Alan Sauer for the title.
Threads Rewoven
by Persephone
Illyana opened her eyes again on a bright Westchester morning, smiling in excitement. She felt *wonderful*. She'd felt so bad, for so long, and known she was going to die. And then she'd heard the Professor's voice sounding sad, and felt something heavy being put gently around her head, and after that she didn't remember feeling anything at all until she was floating softly away....
Before the nice man who said his name was Kevin had caught her and told her she'd be alive again, and built her a new body that wasn't sick. She wasn't sure how he'd done it, and he'd warned her that people would be startled because as far as they knew she'd been dead for a while, but she didn't care. He'd been warm and friendly against her mind, if a little bit sad, and she hadn't been scared of him at all. Illyana thought she'd like to see him again.
Or meet him, rather, since she hadn't really been seeing then.
First, though, she wanted to see Piotr and Katya and Jubilee, Piotr most of all. Right away.
She pattered out the door to go looking for them.
By a delightful coincidence, they were all three walking along the hall together and she saw them after only four turns. "Piotr!"
Piotr looked up.
Illyana ran forward.
Jubilee stopped chattering away in English and shrieked. Piotr fell to his knees, reaching out to catch his little sister as she leaped for him, hugging his neck tightly as he enfolded her in his arms and buried his face in golden hair, weeping for joy.
**********
Genosha was thrown into utter turmoil as its population spontaneously doubled.
Thousands of mutates, all listed somewhere in interminable files as casualties of the Legacy epidemic, materialized in buildings, in fields, on rooftops, in the streets. Thousands of mutates who had died in pain, in impersonal quarantine, found themselves alive again, and free from the earlier control programming.
"What happened to us?"
"Did you meet him? Do you remember him?"
"Who was he?"
"He named me!"
"He named me too! My name is...."
"My name is...."
"My name is...."
They flooded the streets in joyous, incredulous bewilderment.
"What happened here? Where are the Magistrates?"
"We won't submit to them again!"
"My name is...."
"You won't have to; Magneto rules now."
"Did he name you?"
"No, but this is what my number made him think!" Wonder.
"Magneto!"
"Magneto?"
Magnus stared in confusion and awe from a balcony at the surging crowds. Where had they come from? So many... so many more of his people. More every moment.
An Acolyte, wide-eyed and stammering, dashed to him with the news that the hospitals for Legacy sufferers were suddenly emptying, their occupants abruptly healthy and staggering out, on unsteady, long-unused legs, after moments of gasping shock to join the multitudes in the street.
That couldn't account for all of them. It simply couldn't. He gazed down. A familiar face. It took him a moment to place; he had memorized as many as he could of the mutates who'd died before he rose to power here. That woman had been *dead*. Was it possible?
His people. Where would they all go? Was there room? He would *make* room; he must. Somehow there would be enough space, enough food. Somehow there would be order. Even if he had to ask Xavier for help -- he would not have them suffer for his pride.
His people. They would not be so harmed, so victimized again, while he lived. He listened to the growing, laughing roar rising from the usually saddened island, the roar of life and newfound worth.
"My name is...."
"My name is...."
"My name is...!"
**********
In a sparkling, well-lit laboratory hidden in plain view in a reputable section of Chicago, Sinister dispassionately analyzed the results of yet another test on the Legacy organism. No new information. He filed the data appropriately and turned his attention to a real-time hologram of the sample of heart tissue that quivered in its nutrient dish, beating quietly and now somewhat erratically on its own.
A touch of the controls split the image, magnified and focused one portion at the cellular level, plunged the other to a macromolecular so that the effects and progress of the infection could be easily discerned. Another crucial protein writhed into the wrong configuration entirely. In the wider view, three more cells withered and died.
And Nathaniel Essex felt it a thorn in his side that he could not determine how to reverse or even halt the process.
It halted.
The pathogens, DNA and protein, were simply wiped from existence. Damaged cellular DNA untwisted, twisted again, and settled down again with a different nucleotide sequence. Vital proteins and organelles reformed, and the cells settled into what was to all appearances normal operation.
Sinister tore his eyes away from the hologram to see that the tissue's overall rhythm was once again perfectly steady. It was only then that he heard the insistent alarm signaling the exercise of powerful mutant energies.
He ignored it for the moment, except to turn off the alarm and verify that none of his bases appeared to be under attack.
Should this prove to be some form of illusion or sabotage, it was certainly an elaborate one.
Examination proved that there was no longer any trace of Legacy in the infected cultures he had maintained at this laboratory, nor in any of his other subjects of observation. He suspected that the same would be true of those in other locations. According to the monitoring instruments, it was.
It was also true of the samples he promptly tested from his own body.
Deliberately, Essex approached a well-secured cabinet and performed the elaborate procedures to access it and retrieve the contents: a cylinder containing one of the few samples of Legacy he had succeeded in crystallizing. It had been a source of some irritation that he had been unable, in any trial, to obtain a truly perfect crystal for X-ray analysis.
The best ones had yielded patterns that, after exhaustive mathematical reduction, had told him that the structure was complex and not previously encountered, and that the details were exceedingly ambiguous. This had not been particularly helpful information.
His motions were careful and sure as he placed the cylinder in an enclosed environment and began extracting a portion of the crystals to restore to viability, and infected a clean cell culture with the results.
He had selected a particularly virulent strain to crystallize. Approximately twenty-five percent of the accelerated Homo sapiens superior tissue culture was dead by the time he had completed the sterilization of the experimental area and put away the extraneous equipment.
Sinister nodded thoughtfully. The virus, then, remained viable. The plague could be unleashed again.
After a few moments of internal debate, he carried the sealed culture and each of his cylinders of crystallized Legacy pathogens to a disposal unit, placed them inside, sealed it, and bombarded the contents until they were reduced to component atoms.
He turned to the mutant detection display and studied the energy readings. It was suddenly, beautifully clear what must have happened.
These energies were surely what had swept through his laboratory and over the planet to erase live infections of Legacy from existence. And the signature was quite familiar.
Proteus.
**********
In Edinburgh, a man appeared just outside his own home and leaned against the wall, gasping. He lived! He'd thought for sure he was dead, had screamed in pain as he was torn from his body, displaced. Then the same boy who had just killed him had caught at his soul, begged his forgiveness, and offered him life again.
With the caveat that seven years would have passed in between.
Seven years in which he would have been considered dead.
Seven years.
But he'd said yes.
The man took his keys from his pocket -- his keys; he'd just been given a rebuilt body after seven years and he had his keys with him? That boy, Kevin, his name was, must have thought of everything -- with a hand that shook slightly in nervous anticipation. Did his family even live here anymore?
A deep breath, and he placed the key in the lock.
It turned. The locks hadn't been changed -- or had the key?
They came running, his wife and his son, alarmed at the sound of someone coming into the house, and stopped short in stunned recognition.
Her eyes widened in disbelief, then filled with tears as a trembling hand went to her mouth. Their son, now in his teens, stared in shock. "F-father?" He could only nod.
"Alive... och, love, thought I'd never see you again...."
"Father!"
She was older, long hair cut short and gone grayer, the signs of weariness around her eyes, the signs of sorrow, of making her way and caring for a child alone after his loss. A child now nearly a man grown. It made no difference; she was still the most beautiful sight he'd ever seen. The pain, the time he'd missed, hardly mattered; the tears and cries now were of surprised welcome and for the moment all else was forgotten.
"Thought that monster'd killed you true...."
"Nae, he sent me back, he dinna mean it."
"It still hurt! But come in, Ferdie, donnae stand in the hallway...."
They held each other again, after seven years, and rejoiced.
**********
Another man materialized, in the business district of Edinburgh, and stared about him in amazement. Alive, he was alive again -- the monster that had killed him had seconds afterward turned and given him life again. Life again... after a seven-year hiatus that had for the man himself been only moments. And with everything he'd had with him when taken over -- including the fare to get home. So he did.
Or he tried.
"Nae, we bought this place two years syne." At his crestfallen expression, the lady added, "But given the circumstances, here's the address they gave me...."
He arrived, and found his wife and children sitting down to eat. They were glad, if uneasily startled, to see him alive -- but his wife bowed her head before she took his hand and reluctantly introduced the stranger at the table.
Her new husband.
Not so new, really; the wedding had been two years ago. He should have realized.
"I'm so sorry... if I'd had any idea of seeing you again I never would hae remarried! But... I love him."
He muttered something, hardly knowing what he said, about how it made perfect sense, how he was glad for their joy, how he would never be so unfair as to begrudge happiness to a couple who had married in good faith. All the while his heart cried out that it was unfair to be given a second chance at life only to find the best of that life given to another, unfair to have seven years torn away and no chance at repairing the hole in his life, unfair to have the world pass him by.
As graciously as possible, the man declined awkward invitations to stay for a meal or the night, and turned away, hiding the ache in his soul as best he could and walking out into the bright afternoon sun.
He'd never asked for this! It wasn't fair; he'd had no choice in his death!
He had been given a choice in his return to life.
He'd accepted. He could have refused. But who would ask to finish dying? Of course he'd accepted.
But he hadn't known how it would hurt.
And now where could he go? What could he do? He'd been *officially* dead; he had no home or family now, and no resources but those he carried on his person or within himself.
Perhaps he would ask the MacTaggarts. Proteus, Kevin, had given him to understand that he intended to return himself to life as well, and was trying to make amends. This would be something to make amends for....
He *had* been given a choice. He had.
That didn't really help.
He needed help, and they should be able to give it. They *should* give it. And probably would, if asked.
After seven years presumed dead, he needed *something*. There was no way he could put a life back together all alone. There was no way he could put his life back together at all, he supposed. It would have to be a new one.
He headed for the ferry.
**********
Rahne stared a little disconsolately at a gaily decorated birthday cake and fretted over whether she should or should not go looking for Moira. It was her birthday, but she'd been in a very pensive mood of late.
Unless she were much mistaken, the girl concluded, Moira had drifted down to the reinforced room that once had belonged to... imprisoned... been occupied by her son Proteus. Rahne decided that last phrasing was much the safest. And that she was going to go find Moira after all.
The surrounding air became slightly but perceptibly cooler as she descended the staircase, and the girl shifted for a moment, just enough to pick up a familiar scent from the banister. Moira *had* gone this way; Rahne was certain now.
Then, to her surprise, she heard voices.
One was Moira's; that wasn't odd in itself. The woman lived here, after all. The first voice, though, was male -- and since she and Moira were the only ones who were supposed to be in the facility at the moment, Rahne *did* find that odd.
"Mum --" the first voice said, "Mum, I'm home."
A moment later, Rahne heard Moira say, in a voice choked up with joy, "Kevin... Kevin!" She turned the corner and could see the door with "MUTANT X" in heavy black letters -- standing open. The voices issued from there.
Proteus's name was Kevin.
Rahne felt her heart seem to stand still, then start pounding. Impossible? Not really, not with all she'd seen. Even if she didn't believe in miracles -- which she did -- her experiences with both other mutants and a wild assortment of other exotic varieties of being would have made her reluctant to discount improbable things as impossible even on a purely natural level.
Besides, hadn't Proteus returned once before?
She stole forward to look in the door. Moira was hugging a blond, fine-featured young man whose head was bent down over hers. They clung to each other for a long moment, relief visible on his face amidst the happiness.
"I fixed it," he whispered, "all I could think to. I brought back the innocents I took as hosts, and the people who died of Legacy, and stopped it --"
Rahne gasped silently. Legacy cured? Moira healed? And....
Moira looked up, startled, and he smiled down at her. "Happy birthday," he said softly, tremulously. Rahne felt tears prick at the corners of her eyes. From the way the pair closed theirs and held on tight, she didn't think she was the only one.
Then she shifted ever so slightly further toward wolf-form, catching a third scent. She stepped sideways, leaning on the doorframe to peer around Moira and the young man who *had* to be her son. Large brown semi-lupine eyes met the lighter ones of a sandy-haired little boy.
His, understandably, opened very wide and round. Rahne hesitated a second to make sure her teeth were normal, then smiled brightly and winked. The little one stared for a moment, then grinned back.
Then Kevin pulled away, with clear reluctance, and turned to extend a hand to the boy, who had been hanging back shyly, and draw him closer. "This is Gilbert; you remember him, surely. Couldn't we --"
As he turned back toward Moira, Gilbert's pudgy little hand in his, Kevin caught sight of Rahne and stopped in apparent confusion. Rahne, heart fluttering, smiled again and said quickly, "Mum, why don't I call and let people ken the good news?"
Moira nodded, then reached out quickly and pulled Rahne into a warm hug, too, before releasing her. Rahne retreated out of the room and broke into a run on her way to reach the phone and vidscreen.
She was... ecstatic. Excited didn't even start to cover it. Moira was well; Legacy was gone; Moira's son was back (and apparently stably so this time) and she was *happy*....
A tiny worm of insecurity asked her where *she* would be left, now that Moira's own child had come back and, it would seem, covered himself in glory. Rahne swatted it for a nasty selfish little voice that had no business insinuating itself into a happy occasion. Moira loved her. She knew that. It curled up, rather squished, and sulked as she grabbed the telephone/address book.
**********
Kevin fell silent as the girl spoke to Moira and hugged her. "Mum"? He had a sister?
Exactly how had he missed something like that?
There was something strange about this. It was perfectly plausible that, watching only Moira -- and sporadically at that -- he could easily have missed the presence of one particular other person, especially an individual during the time there had been a large group staying in the complex. The girl who'd just come in, though, was old enough that she had to have been born... well, while he was alive the FIRST time.
Maybe Moira *had* had a daughter... with Charles Xavier? More likely Sean Cassidy. But it would have been before he.... The age didn't seem to work out.
He was still confused. He should have noticed having a sister. He was fairly certain of this. It wasn't the sort of thing one should just overlook.
She had a lovely smile. Well, if you're going to have siblings turn up out of nowhere, it's better to have them nice ones, after all. And on the topic of siblings....
As the girl's footsteps faded away -- an introduction might have been helpful, Kevin reflected a bit late -- he turned back to his mother to broach the subject of adopting Gilbert. *He* would adopt Gilbert, if Moira didn't feel she could deal with a child that age again....
She agreed, though. At that moment Moira would have agreed to practically anything her returned son might have cared to propose.
She finally thought to lead them both out -- Gilbert still clinging wide-eyed to Kevin's hand. They left what had been a boy's prison and a mother's heartbreak, and climbed back to the warmer, sunlit rooms that held a home. In reality it was raining fiercely, but even the lash of water on the windows sounded celebratory.
And the halls of Muir sang for joy.
**********
"Xavier Institute -- Rahne, hello! You look sparkling this morning."
"Aye, Professor. We have news." She *felt* sparkling; she could feel the knowledge dancing just behind her eyes and lips.
"So do we." Charles Xavier, too, looked... oddly happy, yet perplexed, as if a burden had been suddenly lifted from him and he hadn't yet stopped looking around to see where it had gone and who had taken it. He steepled his fingers and leaned forward toward the vidscreen. "Would you care to go first, or shall I?"
Was he actually being mischievous? Rahne decided he was. "You go ahead."
"Illyana's back." There was wonder in his voice. "Not a trace of Legacy, not a ripple in the ground over -- her grave. She ran to Piotr and hugged him this morning...."
Rahne was beaming irrepressibly by this point. Illyana! Of course. She should have expected that, from what Kevin had said. "Wonderful! And now for mine -- Kevin's back." She paused for effect. It worked.
Professor Xavier looked satisfyingly dumbfounded. "Kevin -- MacTaggart? Moira's son?" Rahne nodded. Xavier appeared to make something of a recovery. "Judging by your expression, I gather he is... how to put this... sane and non-destructive this time?"
"Oh, aye, he seems quite nice. He hugged Moira and said he'd cured Legacy and brought back all the people who died of it and all his... hosts for her birthday."
Understandably, Xavier's expression shaded toward stunned. Rahne couldn't help giggling, and the telepath began to smile as well as the spilled-out explanation sank in. "Excellent," he finally said, voice warm. "That's... quite the birthday present, I have to say."
"Aye." Rahne grinned at him. "You could tell the rest of the X-Men and all, if they're nae eavesdropping already. I've other calls to make."
"Might I make a suggestion as to your next call?" Xavier asked thoughtfully. "Illyana apparently returned quite near the location of her death. If this proves to be standard, Magnus would probably quite appreciate an explanation."
Rahne's eyes widened. Magnus was in Genosha -- where Legacy had taken its highest toll. Which was now reversed. "Oh my," she managed, faintly and with feeling. "But will he take the call? It seems he'd be a wee bit busy to be answering the phone...."
Charles Xavier smiled again, looking moderately pleased with himself. "Don't worry about that. I have a number he *will* answer."
**********
"This hallway leads to where Excalibur used to train and here -- Gilbert, you look a wee bit overwhelmed." Moira knelt by the small boy. "Donnae worry about getting lost. We'll find you, ye ken."
"I admit I'd forgotten some of the more bewildering features of the floor plan here, Mum," Kevin observed, sounding faintly bemused. "Did you remodel some of the building while I wasna looking?"
"Mostly the parts that got destroyed," Moira replied, quite seriously, as she rose. "And the kitchen's this way instead of being underground as 'twas for a time."
Kevin didn't remember the kitchen being underground in the first place, but it could have been before (or between) his time. It could hardly have been the original design of the Kinross home; they'd have needed a chimney, wouldn't they?
"Can -- can I have a san'wich?" Gilbert asked suddenly, seeing that they were on their way in the direction of the kitchen, and then ducked his head shyly when Kevin and Moira both looked down at him.
"May," Moira corrected in an automatic reversion to maternal linguistic instincts. Kevin's lips twitched. "And of course --" she hesitated and looked up. "Kevin, are ye hungry...?" she asked tentatively.
Kevin thought for a few seconds, startled, then broke into a brilliant smile. "Aye. And you've no idea how good that feels."
**********
Rahne swallowed in an attempt to alleviate the uncomfortable awareness of her pulse pounding in her throat. She had *very* carefully dialed the number Professor Xavier had given her, and was unsure whether she was more nervous at the prospect of getting Magneto or of getting someone else by mistake. She was equally uncertain which fear was the less logical.
Finally, she heard a click as someone picked up the receiver on the other end, and instantly recognized the deep voice that couldn't quite seem to decide whether it was tired or exhilarated.
"Hello?"
"Hello, Magnus," she began. Her voice didn't seem overly affected by the force of her heartbeat.
"Rahne?!" he interrupted before she could go on, astonishment evident. "I wasn't expecting to hear from you."
"Aye, 'tis I." He actually sounded glad to hear from her, though she was sure she wasn't one he'd normally expect to hear on this line. She stopped and wondered how to go on. She hadn't had a real conversation with the man in ages. "How's Pietro?" And where had that come from? She supposed it was, in an oblique fashion, relevant to ask about his son before announcing Moira's had come back. Besides, Quicksilver had been a teammate of hers, for a time.
Magneto's voice cooled slightly. "He is well."
Rahne winced. Apparently the two still weren't on terribly good terms. "Well, good. And what about... everything else there?" She heard a note of mischief creep into her voice towards the end. Magneto's next words carried a hint of suspicion, but he did respond.
"Events of late have been... interesting. You are, I know, well aware of the ravages of Legacy on the mutates." She should be. She'd been there. "The effect... seems to have been reversed. I find myself with a significantly larger population to deal with than yesterday. Not to mention healthier." The exhilaration she had heard earlier was there again, only more intense. A taste of wonder, a taste of weariness.
A perfect opening. "That doesna surprise me. I called to tell the news -- Kevin came back. And apparently, he decided a good birthday present for his mother would be to cure Legacy and bring back everyone who'd died from it." Not that she could argue with the reasoning, to be sure. She let the words fall into the telephone and waited.
She waited through several seconds of silence before Magnus slowly replied, "That explains it, indeed. I wasn't aware his power had such range."
"It didna before, that I ken."
"Fascinating." She caught a very faint sound that might have suggested he was shaking his head, and then again it might not. "My best wishes to you all, and my thanks to Kevin."
"I'll tell him," Rahne promised. She could simply have said goodbye then, but hesitated, and then he spoke.
"Do," Magnus said, and then added warmly, "It has been good to hear your voice again, Rahne. I... hope there may be no grudges between us?"
She was glad she hadn't hung up already. "None on my side." She made sure the smile could be heard in her voice when she went on with, "At least, as long as you donnae go trying to take over the world again...."
"I assure you I have no such intentions," Magneto assured her sincerely. "Genosha is a sufficient headache unto itself at the moment." Appeasement may have been ineffective in the past, but Magnus's very real concern for the unique population of the little island he'd been given and its singularly bizarre problems made it an unexpectedly effective barrier to further aggression.
Rahne laughed. "Aye, I imagine it would be. And I'm sure you're busy. Goodbye, Magnus.... Keep in touch?"
He sounded surprised again, yet pleased. "I will try. Goodbye, Rahne."
She hung up the phone and thought for a moment, then marked Magneto off her list and tried to decide whom she could be sure Xavier would tell. As she wasn't absolutely sure he knew where X-Force *was*, she decided to call them next.
**********
Moira sat in the kitchen and feasted her eyes on the sight of her son -- her two sons, she should say, since she was going to adopt Gilbert -- eating sandwiches.
It had been so long since Kevin's powers had last let him eat, so very long since any conventional form of nourishment had done him any good at all, and here he was having a snack with every evidence of enjoyment.
He paused and looked slightly concerned. "Are you not eating?"
She shook her head. "Nae. I've been corporeal all day; I had a meal at noon."
Kevin put down his sandwich and leaned earnestly toward her across the table, a slight twinkle in his eye. "Are you quite sure about that?"
Being well aware of her own unfortunate habit of periodically forgetting to leave the lab or not getting around to it at regular mealtimes, Moira burst into laughter.
The idyll was interrupted by the doorbell. Moira went to answer it and regarded the rather desperate-looking police officer on her doorstep in some confusion. "Hello...."
"Good afternoon." The pleasantry didn't fit at all well with his expression, which suggested reluctantly but eloquently that the afternoon left much to be desired on his part. "I came to talk with your son. I was... was one of his hosts." The man hesitated, swallowed hard, and looked still more unhappy as Kevin arrived silently to look over his mother's shoulder through the doorway. "I think I need your help."
**********
X-Men, Magneto, X-Force, Department of Health, World Health Organization, Avengers, Center for Disease Control, the Fantastic Four, Alpha Flight. A long and varied series of assorted governments, government agencies, teams, and medical or academic institutions.
Every past member of Excalibur who had actually left a forwarding address and one or two who hadn't.
Jack Crossan, Moira's uncle, and his granddaughter Annie, along with an extended list of individuals, apparently friends and perhaps relatives of Moira's, whose names were entirely unfamiliar to Rahne. She felt even more awkward calling them than the government officials, but their enthusiasm did a good deal to counter the feeling.
**********
The parlor was little used of late, but warm enough. It still felt cold, and a pall of silence seemed to shroud it and muffle all the spaces between the crackle of the fire and their visitor's voice.
Gilbert had followed Kevin and Moira to the door, but when he'd shrunk back a little from the tall figure Moira had disappeared briefly with him and returned alone, the young boy left napping in a... more comfortable atmosphere.
Kevin was glad of that much.
"I went to my home," the man said softly, staring into the flames. "I didna think... how much would have changed in seven years." When his voice caught midsentence, he blinked, and liquid glinted at the corner of his eye, just inside the edge of the lid. "I'm not anybody, anymore. My wife's not mine now; she was a widow, and she married to another man while I was gone."
Kevin swallowed and asked softly, "What do you want me to do?"
"I don't know." The man -- a stranger, but so horribly familiar -- raised haunted eyes to meet those of the boy who had stolen his life. "I don't know. There isn't anything you can do, is there? You can't change the past or there wouldn't have been the seven years, would there?"
"You understand." Kevin bowed his head against the look he had no right to avoid.
The officer shook his head, eyes on the fire again. "I wouldn't be asking you to -- I mean, they're happy. I couldn't say, take them away from each other, when they married in good faith." He swallowed hard. "I can't go back. That life's not mine now. I need to start again, but how can I, when I'm written down as dead and everything I owned went to family? They'll help if I ask, but...."
"You don't want to make their lives harder, and I was the one who took your life from you to start."
"Yes. And you can... can explain what you did and who I am to help me establish my identity again." The man turned back to the fire and took a few steps towards it, then looked up and took a half-step towards Kevin, soft voice growing a bit more resolute. "There may be openings on the police force. Somewhere, if not here."
How kind must a man be to refrain from mentioning clearly to his murderer that he'd been cruelly killed? Kevin nodded and looked for a moment to his mother. She nodded minutely in response to his unspoken question: they would finance the new start.
"I owe you anything I can rightly do."
"You'll help me, then."
"Did you truly think we wouldn't?"
Their visitor shook his head and spread his hands. "How could I know?"
**********
"Och! And then what happened?" Rahne asked, her large brown eyes filled with concern and sympathy for the woebegone visitor as well as for Kevin and Moira. She had emerged from a whirlwind of telephone calls and e-mails to find Gilbert taking a nap, Moira brooding pensively over a warm mug that turned out, for a wonder, to be hot cocoa instead of coffee, and Kevin apparently absent.
Moira had recounted, slowly, the arrival and tale of Proteus's one-time host. How he'd lost almost everything, how he'd reluctantly asked their help. It was his due, but he'd been tactful, when he could have easily given way to bitterness or anger and railed against Kevin. Her son wouldn't have so much as said a word in his own defense; she could tell.
"Kevin's gone to make sure all his hosts, at least, have their legal identities back and somewhere to be." Moira's hands flexed on the mug, and she curled her fingers under so their backs were against the heat. "I'm not sure if he's going to try for all the Legacy victims immediately or not."
"There were so many of those...."
"Aye, but there are some things to make it easier. Most were Genoshan, for one thing. It may be confusing, but at least Magneto can cope with the idea of people coming back from the dead."
"I did call and tell him what was going on," Rahne offered. "The professor suggested it."
"Better still. The rest.... I hope they'll be all right. Those who were accepted as mutants already will have somewhere to go; those who weren't we may have to find and help. Kevin feels a special responsibility to those he killed himself, of course. We'll look out for them as well, but Legacy wasna his doing."
**********
Green-gold rage leapt through the room like a conflagration, sending the man who *had* wrought Legacy staggering back in fear he couldn't explain.
Stryfe was not easily frightened. Kevin was an expert.
Strictly speaking, Kevin was a reality-warper with a talent for finding his enemies' psychological weak points. He had been inclined to mercy when he left home with one of his own former victims. After seeking out every Legacy victim he could find to arrange for shelter and other aid, this was no longer the case.
"Explain yourself." Kevin didn't shout. He didn't need to.
"What --"
"I am Kevin Kinross. My mother is Moira MacTaggart. I have undone as much as I could of both the suffering I caused and what you did with Legacy. I just got back, and I am offering you one chance to give me an explanation for your actions. Before I kill you."
"Why should I bother?"
"It might change the form of your death." Kevin smiled and advanced another step. "Or perhaps it won't. Do you have a justification? Or were you only trying to hurt your own parents for a rejection of which they weren't guilty?"
Stryfe tried to sneer. "You have little room to talk. Didn't you kill your own father?"
"Yes." Kevin's form was wholly green fire now, with eyes. "I killed him for hurting my mother."
Stryfe moved behind his chair, a massive steely throne set on a swivel.
Kevin took another step closer. "And I know that it was wrong to harm others in trying to reach him. Do you not know? Or is it only that you don't care?"
"I -- don't care." Stryfe's left eye flared. "And I've seen what a mutant elite can do. Like you."
That at least struck home, as Kevin wavered for an instant. Time for hope to rise enough to be dashed. "And most of those you killed to strike at your family were slaves." He shook his head, moving forward again. "My mother is not even a mutant. You are about to die for your harm to her, Stryfe."
A few more steps.
Stryfe's metal-gloved hands clenched on the chair; he had no further to go. Fury cracked through his shields, flashing still brighter gold about the edges with his own powers.
"I thought about giving you the same death I gave my father, for similar harm to her," Kevin whispered, energy crackling along his breath. "I can reconstitute my own body now; I could take over yours and burn... you... out."
Stryfe's grip left dents in the metal he clutched; this was a nightmare walking from his childhood.... "You can't touch me. What about your vulnerability to metal?" His armor could protect him; Kevin's energy form couldn't safely penetrate it....
Proteus laughed, cool green fire licking out of the sound. "What vulnerability to metal?"
"Your energy form --"
"I haven't had that problem since I met Gilbert."
Stryfe wondered for a moment if his last conscious thought would be the wild question, "Who is Gilbert?" Then he swallowed and fought past the fear to launch a desperate full psionic assault, to pound this boy's body to component atoms and shatter his mind past recovery.
"That might work better if I had failed to take the precaution of shutting off your powers when I arrived," the green voice pointed out, still laughing. "Surely this wasn't the first time you thought to use them?" Kevin shook his head and placed his own hand on the chair, leaning close. "I scare you, don't I. My father's death scares you, too. There's a difference, though." His voice dropped to a whisper again. "She never trusted you."
The Chaos-Bringer tried to back away from the hand that reached for his face, then, but space seemed to stretch behind him so that he couldn't move far.
"I'll be kinder this time."
**********
When Kevin arrived home, fully corporeal and a little pensive, he was somewhat surprised to discover that they had company again. It was significantly more cheerful company this time, although it must be admitted that this was not precisely a difficult condition to accomplish.
People had begun to trickle in not long before his return, and the trickle didn't take long to become what seemed to a young man who'd spent much of his life in isolation an absolute torrent. Moira welcomed them all, nearly glowing.
A large number of the calls Rahne had made -- at least those to personal associates, close friends, and superhero teams -- were resulting in impromptu trips to Muir Isle to see the situation for themselves and rejoice with Moira over her cure and her restored son. In some cases, seeing for themselves was an important prerequisite to the rejoicing, given previous experiences with the son.
The X-Men's Blackbird screamed to a smooth landing; X-Force arrived in some vehicle that couldn't possibly have looked like that when they first acquired it. X-Factor, the Fantastic Four, a delegation of Avengers.... Excalibur could easily have been restored as a team with the complement of former members who arrived.
In between the superheroes came a scattered but persistent stream of relatives, scientists, and other comparatively normal folk, those who'd had time to reach Muir since learning the news. Most of them surprised the heroes -- especially the mutants -- with their aplomb at finding themselves surrounded by super-powered beings, some in costume. Many were a bit startled, of course, but this *was* after all Moira MacTaggart's home, and everyone knew that sort of thing might happen around her.
Jack Crossan was one of those who actually called back to say he was coming and make sure it was all right. He chuckled knowingly at the information that she was collecting a good deal of other company, and offered to make punch. Moira accepted gratefully.
Not that he was the only one who brought anything, simply the only one to mention it ahead of time. A number of people suddenly remembered her birthday and brought gifts, and a rather peculiar menu developed from the contributions of people who thought that it might be nice to bring something over but, unaware of each other, did not consult for either duplication or congruity. It was still quite nice, but definitely a bit strange.
On the other hand, Kevin hadn't eaten food for most of his life, so he was perhaps not in the best position to judge. Everyone else kept laughing about the combinations, however, so it seemed a fairly safe conclusion.
**********
"Good evening, Scott."
"Ah... good evening." Scott Summers looked down at the balding man in tweed who had just cordially greeted him and was already moving off to lay claim to a cup of punch and engage Moira in conversation, then turned puzzledly to Reed Richards and added in a low tone, "Should I know who that was?"
"Dr. Theodore Eastman." Reed shrugged. "A collaborator of Moira's. Excellent geneticist. I don't believe they're close friends, precisely, but we've lost her for at least the next half hour while they talk shop." He grinned. "Excuse me while I go do something similar regarding Peter here...."
Reed intercepted Peter Corbeau with perfect timing to leave Scott face-to-face with Kevin. They stared at one another for a long moment in acute discomfort.
Kevin finally smiled wryly and said, "I understand the rationale. Just don't try talking me into suicide again, and I won't feel the need to bring it up if you don't. Besides, I think the sojourn in outer space was good for me."
Scott winced slightly. "It wasn't going to work at the time. Could you really have lived like that?"
"Maybe. In retrospect, however, my spending the least time possible near the Shadow King was probably a good idea."
The thought of a Farouk-influenced Proteus was enough to make almost any reasonable being shudder. "Probably," Scott agreed. "Besides, to the best of my knowledge, you haven't killed anyone since you came back."
Kevin hesitated fractionally. "True." Once safely away, he added under his breath, "And let's keep it that way."
**********
"I'm not merging with you again. You left me to die." The Jamie Madrox who had died of Legacy folded his arms and glared at the other two.
The one Kevin had once taken shrugged. "I don't remember."
A sigh. "It was before your time."
The third, still living, stared for a moment and then said, "I didn't have a better choice, and you know it, because you were me."
The first looked down. "Maybe so. But I'm still not letting you reabsorb me now. I got brought back to life as my own person."
Jamie grinned suddenly. "Well, come on. If anybody can deal with there being more than one of him, we can."
Another Jamie stared suddenly over the third's shoulder to where Kevin was seated with Franklin Richards on his knee. "Yikes. Will you look over there?"
They all turned to hear Kevin's voice drift over, a little bemused. "Created an alternate *universe*? I feel like such an underachiever."
The Jamies exchanged a look. "Nobody make any blond jokes!"
**********
Kevin drew a deep breath and looked around during a local lull. Franklin Richards was a very nice child, though he had the feeling their conversation had started to unnerve people at some point. He hadn't minded Illyana Rasputin attaching herself affectionately to him, either, even if she'd subsequently found it necessary to explain to everyone within earshot exactly what it had been like to be resurrected. All things considered, she did a remarkably good job.
He didn't, in fact, object to any of the specific incidents or people at the gathering. There were just so *many* of them.
Laughter caught his attention, and he turned to see that the group from which it originated included Jamie Madrox -- one of him, anyway -- and the sister he still hadn't had a chance to talk to. She laughed as well, or smiled at least, but Kevin thought she seemed somehow uncomfortable.
When he saw her slip out a few minutes later, he made his own way to his mother, who was watching the girl's progress worriedly, and murmured that he was going out to check on her. Moira gave him a grateful and approving smile; fortunately he didn't have to specify whom he meant to follow.
He was only a few steps into the hallway when he heard his name.
"Kevin."
"Aye?" He turned and blinked up at Piotr Rasputin, who glanced back and then stepped past him, further into the hall.
"Are you in a hurry?"
"I don't think so..."
Piotr paced a few more steps; Kevin followed, and Piotr turned to him. "You have given my sister life again, returned her to me. I would have done anything for that, but I never hoped -- thank you. That you still did so, despite what lies between us....."
Kevin shut his eyes and remembered the burn of his powers consuming him, resentment, desperate fear and determination and a savage, perverse joy in the kill, enjoyment of taking a new body that worked... sudden irrational anger against Moira, the agony of metal fists punching into his energy form and the drawn-out shuddering pain of discorporation. Eventually overwhelming relief, followed finally, finally, by the horror his actions deserved.
When he opened his eyes, Piotr was starting to turn away. "It needed doing, Piotr. I should thank you," Kevin said softly. He offered a hand.
Piotr, after a minuscule, surprised hesitation, returned the grip and then disappeared, considerately without asking why Kevin had been trying to sneak out of his own party.
Kevin continued down the hall, then paused as he past a bathroom and entered to use it. A little awkwardly, but at least he remembered.
He noticed as he washed his hands that his eyes were green. Was that right? He wasn't certain.
At any rate, it was now.
There was a peculiar smell drifting across the night air when he finally stepped outdoors. He tried how well he could sense with energies in this form... burning leaf matter... adamantium.... "Logan?"
He heard a growl, but nothing else, and Logan moved further away from his path. Kevin decided not to push it and kept walking.
**********
Rahne was sitting quietly on a cliff-ledge, not leaning back against the rough rocks behind her, staring out at the moonlight-silvered waves and the swath of mackerel clouds that obscured nearly half the sky.
Jamie hadn't meant anything, of course. They'd all been together again for once, reminiscing about their days in X-Factor. Hard days, often, but they'd had fun too, so there had been a lot of laughter as they traded memories and told stories to people who hadn't been there. Of course, the fact that Guido and Jamie had been telling most of the stories probably had a lot to do with that.
She supposed her infatuation with Alex Summers *had* looked rather amusing from outside. If it had only been a normal crush, she would have been embarrassed enough -- but perhaps she'd have been able to laugh at herself now, too, in that case. Then again, maybe she wouldn't. She'd been bonded to him by the Genoshans, made a *slave*, and she'd behaved so shamefully!
Rahne tilted her face to let the sea breeze cool her cheeks. Jamie liked to laugh; he wasn't too easily embarrassed himself, as a rule, as long as he could make people think of what he'd done as a joke, and he probably didn't realize how humiliating she still found the memory. Not malicious. She was being silly... but it still wasn't funny to her.
Footsteps crunched softly on the path; she didn't look up until they paused directly behind her for some time. Kevin studied her and the ground for a long moment before identifying the path she'd taken down to the end of the ledge, then took a few steps more along the path before turning aside to step carefully down the steep slope.
Rahne, shifted slightly into a transitional form for the warmth fur provided, caught his scent as he came down beside the cliff wall so that the breeze could no longer carry it as readily away. She looked up and tried to quell her sigh as he sat down beside her. If she had wanted company, she would have stayed indoors....
Kevin settled beside her on the rocks, hesitated briefly, and finally began with "Who are you, and why do you keep calling my mum 'Mum'?"
Rahne blinked and straightened; the only thing mitigating the feeling she'd just been slapped in the face was his scent. By that, Kevin was feeling decidedly awkward himself and hadn't really meant to start the conversation with an attack. "I --"
He realized what he'd said and how it could be taken just as she opened her mouth. "Och, I'm sorry -- I didna mean that how it sounded," he said hurriedly. "It's just that --" He stopped. "And now I've interrupted you, haven't I."
He sounded so dismal about it that Rahne couldn't quite help a sympathetic smile. "'Tis all right. What were ye going to say?"
"Only that I hadn't known I had a sister, and 'tis a rather disconcerting thing to have missed. Seems Mum could have told me when you were born, at least, or that I'd have noticed you were there when I --" Maybe he shouldn't get into that.
"Ohh. I see.... No, you wouldna have known it when I was born. My name's Rahne -- Rahne Sinclair. I became Moira's ward when I was fourteen."
Kevin considered this for a moment. "How old are you now?"
"Nineteen."
"So you did get here when I knew I hadn't been paying attention!"
Rahne blinked at him again and laughed hesitantly. "Is that a problem?"
"No -- a relief. I couldna make sense of my not having known about you before." He smiled at her, equal parts the relief he'd claimed and shyness. "It did seem a shame, too -- does still -- the little time I've seen you so far, I think I like you." The smile turned wry. "Even if I didna do very well when I finally got the chance to talk to you."
"'Twas hardly an unreasonable question."
"No -- but you took it as if I'd said you shouldna. I did only want to know why."
Rahne shifted uncomfortably under the gentle tone. It wasn't polite of her to have shown that, but she couldn't deny it truthfully. "Well -- you really are her own son. I'm not her daughter, exactly; she never adopted me, even if -- if we think of each other that way."
"She was glad when I said I'd go see if you were all right. You belong here at least as much as I do. She loves you."
She looked at Kevin suspiciously. "I ken she loves me." No matter how busy Moira was. "Are you reading my mind?" For she'd just been thinking about how she didn't belong to Muir and Moira quite the same way as she.
Kevin had the grace to look and smell abashed. "Some. I've been accustomed for years to sensing things by energy patterns, and made out how to do it for thoughts when I tried -- I still pick up some things, whether I try or not. I'll try to stop if you like...." He paused and raised an eyebrow. "Aren't you reading *me*, from the way I smell? Or did I get that wrong?"
"Well... aye." Rahne blushed a little again, under the fine fur. "Scent, and infrared from the heat in your body. I can tell how you're feeling, mostly -- unless you change how that works."
"I don't think I know how," Kevin replied meditatively. "It seems only fair, though, I suppose." He gave her a warm smile. "Friends, then? I'm glad to have you for a little sister; if I'm to have an unexpected family member, I'm just glad for a nice one. I don't want to have you thinking I don't want you here or any such foolishness."
Rahne looked up at the smile, returning it while she looked over blond hair and green eyes and fine features in the moonlight, and wondered fleetingly if she really wanted a man that handsome thinking of her strictly as a little sister. Then she blushed hotter beneath the fur, desperately glad of the concealment, and hoped he hadn't been reading *that* thought! "You barely know me yet," she demurred.
"You smiled at Gilbert." That didn't seem quite enough explanation. "'Twas a good start."
So she had. It had seemed the thing to do. Rahne smiled faintly out into the salt breeze. "You're very fond of him, aren't you."
"Aye." Kevin turned his head toward her, one hand shifting slightly on the rocky ledge, and she smelled... uncertainty. Not about what he was saying, more the nervous kind. "We were together for -- well, it's been a few years. He was frightened at first -- I can't say I wasn't, being drawn back together, after all that time dispersed, and *into* somebody no less. Neither of us was thinking too clearly, and we wanted things *simple*." He looked sheepish. "That's the explanation for the polyhedra I turned Edinburgh into, though no excuse."
"You didn't do much lasting damage that time, not counting taking Gilbert...."
"I don't." The words were sharp enough that Rahne looked up, startled, as he went on. "His mother was going around using him as an energy-sponge, absorbing it even when it hurt him -- my own energy had some inclination to seek out another body anyway." He winced. "It -- she -- I pushed his powers too far and he burst, but I... can't regret taking him with me. His mother dinna want him, either, not really --"
"You can't blame the Lady Moira," Rahne argued, slipping back into formality as if that should somehow counteract her interruption. "She wasn't herself then --"
"I ken -- and I don't, but I did." Kevin lowered his eyes to his hands, then peered down the sheer drop to the breakers. "'Twas just as well, perhaps, to drive me away then. I caused enough damage on my own, even when 'twasn't pain I was after. If I'd fallen under the influence of the Shadow King...."
Rahne thought of the possibilities -- the hedonistic, sadistic mind of Amahl Farouk given access to Proteus's reality-warping powers. The breeze suddenly felt colder. She pushed the thought away. "What was it you did want, then?"
Kevin closed his eyes. "I... wasn't thinking too clearly much of the time. That time wasn't the worst, of course.... When I first left my body for another host, 'twas that I wanted to be free -- out of the cell, out of the body that was devouring itself. I didn't realize 'twould only be worse outside -- and then I'd done murder, and as I went on -- well, I wanted to survive, to stay free... and to kill my father."
"What!" She didn't even vocalize; the word was shaped on an indrawn breath, a sharp gasp. She really shouldn't be so shocked; she'd heard the stories of what he'd done. It was just so strange to hear him say it so calmly, when he'd just repented and brought everyone back....
Everyone *else*.
"He deserved it," Kevin said defensively. Obstinately, Rahne thought as she watched the shift of his body heat. "He hurt her -- I know he did; I knew more than she ever thought I understood. Came close to killing her before... well, before I was born. And he wouldn't let her alone even from Edinburgh. I'm not bringing him back."
Rahne bit her lip. Whatever her doubts about the morals, in honesty she had to admit to herself that she could not and wasn't likely to bring herself to *ask* Kevin to bring her father back. "I dinna like mine either," she offered slowly. "I... was raised until I was fourteen by Reverend Craig. I never tried to kill him, though I did stand up to the man a bit ago." It had felt good, too. She took a deep breath. "But I -- I killed a man once, lost my temper when he struck his sister and killed her for... for helping me." She shuddered, remembering the sensation of flesh tearing under her teeth and claws and the taste of blood. "That was his excuse, too. 'She made me angry,' he said. I was wrong, I ken -- and I don't feel as if I should be forgiven, though I do believe 'tis possible. And... I'm not sure I'd ask him back, either, if I could. So I don't... agree... but I think I understand. And I've done it, so I'm in no state to judge."
Rahne listened to the waves fling themselves at the base of the cliff for a while as neither of them spoke. She didn't know how he'd take that. She did understand the heat of rage for another. She understood, too, that despite the claim "X-Men don't kill," several of Xavier's recruits and various asociates had done so, and not all outside their tenure with him. Professor Xavier himself had been a soldier, once....
Then, too, there was a certain vigilante mindset -- though she'd been on a government-sponsored team at the time and had even, technically, turned herself in once she'd worked up the courage to report.
No prosecution. Finally, a direct order to stop arguing and a direct statement that nothing was going to be done.
She'd have few friends indeed if she rejected every one of her acquaintance who took it less seriously than she. And Kevin... well, he'd clearly realized murder was wrong, at least of those who'd done you no harm, and he'd done more than most could to atone.
And again... she had no room to speak.
"Your own guilt's more effective than a condemnation." Kevin sounded troubled; she blinked in surprise at his words and looked up from the sea to meet a slight frown. "I'd have to think on that. But I think, even when it's wrong to kill them, there are some 'twould be worse to bring back."
"Maybe so."
She was surprised again at his next question. "What was he like?"
"...Who?"
"Reverend Craig. You said you didn't like him."
"Oh." Rahne thought hard and tried to be fair. "He was... he was very stern, very strict. Alone that's all right, I suppose, but he -- he made me feel worthless. I have to thank him, a little, for he did keep me alive and he did teach me about God." She listened for a moment to the waves, far below, and smelled sea-salt and Kevin's uncertainty. She wasn't saying what he'd expected. "But he taught me fear and humility without teaching me love and protection. I learned those later from... Mum, and from Kurt -- a man I thought at first looked like a demon."
"I remember him," Kevin said. "Blue?"
"Yes." When no further comment on Kurt seemed forthcoming, she went on, "I learned other things, too. It seems Reverend Craig *was* my father, and my mother... well, when he told me I was a child of sin, he may have meant *his*. Maybe he raised me as he did because he didn't know any other way, or because he felt guilty, but that didn't make it any better -- and if guilt was the reason taking it out on me wasn't enough, as I fear he was doing the same to another young girl none too long ago." She paused and added tightly, "Then when I was fourteen, I manifested as a werewolf, and he said I was damned and led a mob to try to kill me. 'Twas a long time before I could see *this* as a blessing, I'll tell you!"
Rahne shifted a bit more into a transitional form by way of demonstration, just as Kevin reached to touch her arm. He started when his hand fell on fur, then looked down at it and worked his fingers just under the layer of longer protective hairs. "'Tis very soft," he said when he saw her looking at him. He drew back and added less certainly, "I didn't mean to offend --"
"No." She shook her head quickly. "No -- I was only surprised. That's all."
"Well, so was I." He smiled; the scent of worried embarrassment faded. "It is very nice fur." A tiny hesitation. "I haven't been very used to soft things."
Rahne thought of the Mutant X room, the scent and tang on the air. "All metal?" she ventured softly.
Kevin looked a bit surprised. "...Aye, I suppose so, but iI was thinking more of fire. Energy -- it's been a long time since I didn't perceive things in terms of energy fields. I think 'twas about the same time things started disintegrating." At her questioning look, he elaborated, "When my powers first began getting out of control, everything near me began tending to... fall apart in different ways. That was why mum first made the room and the energy fields -- not so much as a prison, but to keep me from destroying everything I touched -- including my own body." He sighed wistfully. "'Twas a brilliant invention, I ken, and she spent so much time working because she had a lot to do and she was trying to help, but... I suppose it's not fair to say how much didn't work, but I did so want to have her *with* me."
Rahne looked away, at once acutely uncomfortable. She'd wished at times herself that Moira would pay her more attention -- at first it had probably been only her own insecurity as to whether she truly mattered to anyone, but later on.... She knew Moira had been busy, as always, but recovering from Genosha's mutate process had been very trying. The trade of her human form for her free will had been hard enough even on its own, as ugly as she had felt -- and on top of that, the combination of adolescent hormones accentuated by the wolf-form, and the bond to Alex....
The bond her old teammates had been joking about. Rahne felt her cheeks heat as she was reminded of why she had left the party in the first place.
"...Rahne?" At the sound of her name, she jerked her gaze back from the ocean she hadn't really been seeing and focused on Kevin's cautiously concerned face. Hesitant fingers touched her arm again. "What's wrong? -- If I might ask."
"I...." She wished she thought the thin layer of fur remaining on her skin was really doing anything to hide her blushes. She dropped her eyes. "I shouldn't be keeping you out here away from your own party."
Kevin shifted a little, leaning back against the rocks. "To tell the truth, I was getting...." He shrugged; Rahne scented faint embarrassment not her own. "A wee bit overwhelmed. I'm not used to so much company; it's... well. I don't mean to sound as if I'm no glad they all came." He paused. "I don't believe that was what was on your mind, though."
Rahne sighed. "I'm sorry." Staring down at the ledge between them, she admitted, "It's... I went through the Genoshan mutate process a few years ago -- you can find more about how it works in the files -- I don't so much mind the effects on my powers now, and I did learn a lot, but I was...." She swallowed. "I was... well... bonded to Alex Summers, and we were both brainwashed. And even when he recovered and I had a will of my own -- at least when I was shifted -- I... the bond was still there and I... I behaved very badly."
"And... were your teammates joking about it?"
He'd noticed that? "Aye. They don't mean any harm, of course; I'm just silly enough to be embarrassed when they tease."
"It doesn't seem that silly. Maybe they're silly to find it funny."
Rahne snorted but gave him a grateful smile. "Oh, well, I'm sure it is from outside. You may have noticed Alex wasn't laughing himself."
"No, he wasn't, was he?" Kevin murmured. "I didn't intend to remind you, though I'm not sure how -- oh. Of course. --I'm sorry."
"I wanted her time and attention," Rahne admitted in a low voice, nearly inaudible even to her own ears. "But I don't like to -- I shouldn't criticize."
She started at the feel of a hand on her shoulder. "Mum," Kevin said seriously, "will work herself nigh to death in her laboratories trying to *fix* a problem before she'll think to come out to comfort somebody, and even with her regular work she'll sometimes forget to eat anything but coffee. Very odd given her training as a physician *and* a psychiatrist; she ought to know better. And she has a foul temper after too much whisky, though that's not *my* memory but Jack the bartender's." He smiled ruefully. "Don't try to argue with me, for you can't. But it doesn't mean we love her less."
Rahne stared at him. "So it's not just my mind you've been reading."
"No. It comes naturally, though I'm learning to tone it down, and my own experience... there's some I wouldn't trade but it only goes so far. But you agree."
It wasn't quite a question, but she answered anyway. "Aye." She sighed and shifted to lean back against the rock, wriggling a bit to find a comfortably smooth spot between protrusions for her shoulders.
"Good. We can help each other pry her out of the lab at suitable intervals." Kevin grinned at her.
Rahne blinked, startled, and then laughed. "Well... that we can."
They settled back again with the sea breeze eddying around them against the rocks; Rahne closed her eyes and tasted it -- salt and rock and fish -- and then, still looking only at the intricate heat pattern of blood in her eyelids, she concentrated on Kevin's scent.
He smelled human enough -- probably more so than she, with the hint of the canine she carried whenever she was transformed enough to sense it. She couldn't tell that he'd only lately reconstructed his body from pure energy, though his scent was a little like those of other energy manipulators she knew.
It was more like Moira's.
With great power, if one asked Spiderman, came great responsibility. If one looked at far too many others, though, it also commonly came in company with the temptation to hubris.
Rahne sat up and turned toward Kevin only to find him doing the same, Mouth already opening at the start of her name. They both checked, then laughed with only a little of the earlier awkwardness -- at least on his part.
"I'm sorry. What were you about to say?"
He hesitated, then shook his head. "Ladies first?"
Rahne bit her lip; the question seemed more forward after the interruption, somehow. "I was wondering," she said, leaning back nce more and fixing her eyes on the dark horizon, "whether you believe in God."
What she left silent was her real fear: "Or do you believe you are one?"
Kevin let out a breath and stared out over the ocean himself, head tilting back after a moment and his eyes slipping from the dark shimmering water and silver-lit streaks of foam, past mackerel clouds with the moon peeking hazily through them, up to the darker clear sky and the pinprick fire of stars.
He gazed upward as moments slipped by, until Rahne began to wonder if he had perhaps forgotten the question. He'd spent all that time among the stars; perhaps his mind was out soaring among them again and twirling in their dance.
She didn't -- quite -- mean for her motion to get his attention, but as she shifted her foot a tiny bit of rock went skittering down the face of the cliff and drew Kevin back down to Earth.
"Aye," he breathed finally. "There's more out there than I can touch, and fire woven in ways I don't think could be done from here."
Though relieved, Rahne wasn't certain she understood that, but then he turned to her. "I imagine you know the Bible more than I do, but I have read it some. One lasted the longest of any of the books in my... room, though whether you attribute that to divine intervention or the gilt-edged pages...."
Her mouth quirked at that, and then they both laughed and fell silent again for a bit. Not long this time, though; after a moment Rahne remembered to ask, "But what was it you meant to say?"
"Oh." Kevin chuckled, a little self-deprecatingly, his scent suggesting genuine humor but faint embarrassment. "Nothing quite so profound -- I was going to ask if you'd much mind showing me how you transform. I... think I might be able to do it too, if I tried."
She blinked. "You want to... be a wolf?"
"For a while, if you don't mind showing me. It sounds... interesting." He grinned a little. "Fun."
Rahne got to her feet on the ledge and stretched. "It always used to be," she admitted slowly, staring down at him." It occurred to her that his eyes must be glowing, for there shouldn't be enough light else to see the green in his eyes. "It's been a long time since I shifted just to play, and the transitional form's often more use -- the teeth, claws, fur, and strength with hands and speech as well." She smiled ruefully. "I don't think I've done it just for fun since before I stopped feeling guilty about enjoying it. Funny that."
"Well... wolves need packmates, don't they?"
She laughed, though thoughts of Hrimhari flashed a little painfully across her mind. "Remind me to tell you about the wolves of Asgard one day," she said, and then because the wind was stirring her hair and she didn't *want* to go back to being pensive right now, she changed forms swiftly through the transitional one, stripped down to the bodysuit that would change to a collar as she finished, and moved on to the wolf she hadn't been for a surprisingly long time.
Kevin tilted his head, staring at the collared wolf suddenly before him. "That I will. But no tonight, I take it."
She shook herself at being caught out.
"Would you show me again? I'd like to get it right...."
She did, and the third time she shifted he did too. They stood for a moment smelling the suddenly richer eddy of air around them. Kevin wagged his tail once, slowly, and then Rahne crouched and leapt over him entirely, dashing up the path off the ledge as he turned with a yip to give chase.
She ran and hid behind a rock until he found her, with wolf-senses or energy-sight, and two wolves played hide-and seek under the moon until the game turned to chase and to pretend fights.
Rahne loved it. The silver light was beautiful; the wind in her fur and nose and the ground beneath her feet felt *good*. It really had been too long since she'd turned wolf and simply enjoyed it -- there was something wrong when she seemed to remember having *more* fun when she'd still at least half believed her wolf form to be a thing of the devil.
Kevin sprang at her playfully one last time and they rolled over, deadly teeth brushing fur as they snapped at each other, then finally left off to lie panting in the grass.
She could stil hear the noise of the party from where they lay, talk and laughter and now music, until at last she shifted back and went over to retrieve her outer clothing.
"We should go in, I suppose." She came back to look down at Kevin, who stared back up with a wolf's eyes and came curiously to smell her hand. "I'm monopolizing one of the guests of honor."
He shifted back himself to stand beside her, looking toward the building. "Well, you're good company. And that was fun." He tilted his head slightly. "They're dancing now!"
"Can you dance?" He sounded rather pleased about it, but when would he have had a chance to learn?
Kevin turned his head to give her a dazzling smile, but quenched the startling energy-glow from his eyes and mouth when Rahne blinked over fast-contracting pupils. "It's all patterns and feeling." He took her hand and tugged at it, some of the abandon of the wolf-play still in his face. "I used to dance with stars. Come on, I'll show you."
**********