Chapter 2: Chang

Sara flopped down across her bed and sighed. "God, I missed this place so much," she moaned, and rolled over. "I missed you too, dearling," and she kissed Logan full on the lips, hungry for his touch after too long apart. He returned the kiss with interest, then pulled away as the others began bringing her bags and baggage in. She unpacked, dropping dirty clothes in the hamper and distributing her presents. Scott loved the sweater; Storm loved her shawl, and the other gifts she had gotten them were similarly received.

Betsy looked narrow-eyed at the long package wrapped in coarse wool, and snickered. "Sara, it's not much of a sword, you know," as she reached for it.

Sara picked up the package and sat on the bed, laying it across her knees. "It's not what it looks like," she said. "I got it from a strange little Buddhist monk at a shrine in a Shanghai market." She stared at it, waiting for it to change. "Come on, damn you, change!" she slapped at it in frustration. "There's no customs officers here, no one is going to try to take you away; but if I get upset with you, Chang, I will drop you into the nearest lake myself!"

They looked at her as if she was crazy, and she felt a little foolish too, talking to a sword, but their sidelong looks turned to awed gazes as the sword shifted its shape. There was no other way to describe it, and even though Sara had seen the results, she'd never seen the actual shifting. Its outline blurred, wavered, and in a flash of bright violet light, changed into the sword she knew it was. The light gleamed off the keen blue-white blade, and Betsy drew in a startled breath. "Sara, what is it? No sword I know could do that!"

Sara briefly described the monk in the shrine and what he had said to her. "He said that I was the silver warrior who would save the world," she said, her lips twisting in amusement as she remembered it. It sounded hopelessly melodramatic and unbelievable as she told them about it, and she said, "I don't know, I guess it's one of those things, you had to be there. It was creepy. But it seems to have strange powers. That night three black-clad men who called themselves its Guardians broke into my hotel room and demanded that I give it back to them. The sword," it flared in brightness as she mentioned it, "blocked bullets and somehow gave me night vision. I could see them in my room as plain as I see you now, but the lights weren't on. And I could suddenly speak perfect Chinese. I told them that it was mine… okay, okay, you're a he, I know," she patted the hilt of the sword in her lap, and it dimmed its brilliance obediently, "I told them he was mine. His name is Chang; I don't know how I know that, but I do. They made me promise to bring him back when I was done with him. I assume he'll tell me when he has to go back."

"May I?" Betsy gestured to it. Sara hesitated. Chang had chosen her, but what if he felt Betsy and decided she was a better wielder? Sara couldn't help feeling a tiny bit possessive about it. "Okay," she said at last. "Just be careful, he's awfully sharp."

Betsy drew the sword carefully out of its scabbard, but the room was too small and crowded for her to do much else. "Can I take it to the Danger Room?" she asked. "I want to see how it handles."

"Okay," Sara said after another hesitation. Betsy sheathed Chang and went to the door of the bedroom. Just as she reached it, though, the sword seemed to slip out of her hand and came to rest on the floor just inside the room. Betsy picked him up and tried to walk out of the room again. Again he somehow slipped out of her grasp and ended on the floor.

She looked at Sara in astonishment. "He's not going anywhere without you."

"All right. I'm coming." Sara said. As they left, she heard Jean telepathically calling for Xavier to meet them in the Danger Room.

Betsy stood in the center of the room and drew the blade. "It's craftsmanship is excellent," she breathed. "I wonder who made it?" She made an experimental swing, and suddenly it didn't feel so good. The center of balance went completely off, and she dropped it in surprise. Betsy spoke. "I apologise, Chang," she said formally. "I shall return you to your chosen." She picked up the sword and handed it to Sara. "It doesn't like me," she told the other woman. "The moment I tried to swing, its balance went haywire. Sara, I think it really is yours." Betsy drew her own katana and struck a defensive pose. Sara raised Chang.

"Careful, Sara!" Logan called. "The blade is adamantium, like the stuff I have. If you hit Betts too hard you could seriously hurt her." Sara glanced up where he was standing at the observation window with the others, and blew him a kiss, then concentrated on her opponent. She and Betsy sparred for several moments, and the difference was clear to all of them.

Sara's study of Tai Chi swordwork was good; Betsy herself could find no fault with her training. But not being able to practice readily had dulled Sara's reflexes and slowed her down. She was good, and could hold her own in a fight, but if she were facing more than one opponent at a time, she'd be dead in a couple minutes.

Chang changed that. She moved faster, her reflexes were unbelievable, and Betsy couldn't catch her with any of the assassin's tricks that used to work on Sara. And Sara's face was almost blank, as if she wasn't really concentrating on what she was doing but was letting her body do the work. Betsy finally called a halt, and both women lowered their swords, dripping sweat and panting. Logan walked into the room. "Sare," he said, "yer pullin' yer punches. C'mon, let's you an' me see what that bit o' metal can do."

And if the watchers had thought they were seeing incredible work before, what they saw now was unbelievable. Even Xavier sat openmouthed as Logan and Sara fought each other. He didn't hold anything back, nor did she. He wasn't in the total berserker rage that scared everyone on occasion, but he sure was fighting like he was, and Sara was meeting him, stroke for stroke.

As the fight went on, they saw a violet haze begin to come up around Sara, originating from the amethyst around her slender throat and the purple stone in the hilt of the sword. She didn't seem to be aware of it and Logan was too good a fighter to allow anything to distract him, but they were astonished and a bit wary. "Charles, what is that?" Jean asked him, never taking her eyes off the scene below them.

"I don't know," Charles was troubled. Such a sword, with such powers, and an obvious sentience, in the hands of good but inexperienced fighter who had nothing remarkable about her…it worried him indeed. He couldn't imagine why the sword would have gone to Sara, and what the X-Men told him the monk had said made no sense. Sara was no warrior.

She drew blood first, a short slice across his upper arm that tore his shirt and stung like hell form the sweat on his skin. His body healed that, efficiently, then he saw his chance and swung for her. The tip of his claws bounced off the violet haze around her, and he experienced a moment of shock. The haze acted like an energy forcefield that prevented anything form getting through. "Sara!" he yelled to her, breaking her concentration, "I wanna test that forcefield! Lower your sword!"

She did, gasping in exertion, and he gathered his strength. He assaulted that forcefield, striking sparks off it with his claws, but didn't make a dent in it. But she looked like she was visibly weakening in that energy field, and just as he was going to give up, his claws did penetrate the field and ripped her shirt and chest open. She screamed and doubled over, the forcefield collapsed, and he was beside her instantly. There were three parallel gashes across her chest, from her left collarbone to her right armpit, and she was bleeding profusely. "Sara, I'm sorry, I didn' mean it--"

She waved him off, and he trailed off as he saw her chest begin to heal. Much faster than she ordinarily would, faster than he'd ever seen. She gasped to him, "Could we give it a rest? Using Chang is exhausting. God, I'm so tired…" and she crumpled, asleep before she hit the floor. When Logan picked her up, he was surprised to feel how light she was. Not more than one ten, max.

"Infirmary!" Hank snapped, and he carried her off down the hall to the infirmary, Betsy carrying Chang. Hank checked her. ""It's okay, she's just asleep. Probably from all the energy she spent just now, and jetlag as well. I'll be very surprised if she doesn't sleep until tomorrow morning." Reassured that she was all right, Logan went to check on the results with the others of their exercise in the Danger Room. Betsy left the sword under Sara's bed.

Charles was looking at the readouts as Hank and Logan joined them. "The energy radiating from her is incredible," he said, awed. "But look at her body mass. This troubles me. Hank, her body mass decreases the longer the fight goes on. When she went in there, she weighed one forty. When she left, she was one ten. She burned off thirty pounds during the course of that fight. Her body's converting matter to energy faster than anyone I've ever seen. Presumably if the fight had gone on longer she could burn herself out. I don't like this."

"I don't either," Logan growled. "How long's it gonna take her ta get back what she's lost? I wanna tell 'er ta take it back ta where she got it. The sword's doin' incredible things for her speed, fightin'ability, reflexes, and healin' ability, but it's claimin' too high a price."

"I shall speak with her when she wakes," Xavier said. "In the meantime…Betsy, where did you leave the sword?"

"Under her bed."

"Please get it and place it in the weapons cabinet until I can examine it."

Betsy looked uncertain. "Charles, I'm afraid that won't be possible."

"Why?"

She told him about the sword's resistance to being moved from Sara's immediate vicinity.

He sighed. "Then we will just have to make sure she does not use it. Take the steel swordbox that she kept her old sword in and place this one in it. Then lock it. I would prefer that she not use it unless in an emergency or she is supervised to be sure she does not drain herself too much again."

The preparations were duly made, and Sara slept peacefully.

She slumped into the breakfast room late the next morning, yawning and rubbing her eyes. Now that she was up, the loss of mass was even more pronounced; her clothes hung limply on her body. Jean was fixing a sandwich, and Sara asked her, "Could you make me one, too, please? I'm starving." Jean obliged, and Sara ate it so fast Jean had another one made as she finished the first one.

Sara ate steadily and with single-minded concentration for nearly a half an hour before she finally felt satisfied. Jean stared in shock as she seemed to fill her clothes again right before her eyes. Rapid the matter-to-energy conversion might be, but the food-to-body-mass conversion was faster. It was something of a relief to know, and she 'pathed that to Xavier quietly as he entered the room.

"Sara," Charles asked, "How do you feel?"

She blinked at him. "After the workout, exhausted," she answered. "I'm not sure why. After the fight with the Guardians I fell asleep there on the floor still holding Chang. I guess it uses a lot more energy to keep moving that fast. Charles, it scared me. It didn't take the same energy from me that it did in the battle with the Guardians. I think I'll use a regular sword for practices and only use Chang in an emergency."

"Part of the energy expenditure was the forcefield," Xavier said thoughtfully, handing her the readout from the Danger Room's computers. "Can you raise and lower that at will?"

She shook her head. "I don't know. I'd never seen the energy field until yesterday. I want to try it and see--" She started to get up and Xavier waved her down.

"Absolutely not, Sara," he said. "You are not touching the thing again until your weight is back up and Hank gives you a clean bill of health. Relax, and take the rest of the day easy."

So she did. She and Logan spent the day together, walking their favorite trails in the woods, riding their bikes up and down the back roads, and later she went into the office and spoke briefly with Mark Harmon about the Shanghai venture. He assured her it was going well, that there was nothing new to report, and she hung up feeling reassured.

They had a party that afternoon to welcome her home. They guys engaged in a game of football as the girls cheered them on, and sunset found them all out on the patio eating barbecued ribs and chili dogs. Sara ate like a horse. She felt slightly embarrassed about how much she was eating, but she did need to gain the weight back, and she was hungry. So she ate and drank all she wanted to, and fell asleep that night with the man she loved most in the whole world.