Scott Summers awoke to "Feliz Navidad"; with an annoyed grunt he slapped his alarm clock into silence. He lay in bed for several moments before dragging himself up, and felt the sluggish lassitude that follows oversleeping. He was often called "Mr. Military" for a reason—as the straight arrow field leader of the X-Men, it was his duty to set an example for the others by sticking to a tight schedule and being awake, fed, dressed and prepped at 6:00 am for Danger Room practice.
The simple pleasure of sleeping in was not something he was used to.
It was 8:10 that Christmas morning when he walked into the kitchen and greeted Professor Xavier, the only other being at the mansion. The two had a nice, peaceful breakfast of ham, toast and eggs before exchanging gifts. Scott had given Xavier a novel by one of his favorite authors (although he had no way of knowing that to the Professor such a present was useless, as he had picked the novel's story from the writer's brain months before it saw print) and he had received a blue and yellow sweater in return.
"Thanks, Professor," Scott said quietly, grateful but not excited. He had already gotten two sweaters for Christmas, from Kitty and Kurt, but the one from the Professor was made from the special material that didn't give him hives, so it was a good gift, all things considered. It was a far better present than the old skater shirt Evan had just washed and thrown in a festive bag, or the guidebook Be Happy, Dammit! Jean had jokingly stuffed in his stocking.
Thinking of the redheaded beauty, Scott's eyes fell upon a box under the magnificent evergreen Christmas tree, neatly wrapped in shimmering red and green paper. He had chosen the gift with great care and had thought, perhaps foolishly, that it would be able to convey to her the words he could not say aloud. But if there was one thing true about his relationship with Jean, it was that it was full of missed opportunities. She skipped the gift-giving night at the mansion in favor of a romantic evening with Duncan, and then left for Annandale bright and early the following morning, leaving Scott and the present far behind.
"Is anything wrong?"
He met the Professor's gaze and shook his head. "Nah. I think I'm just gonna go out for a ride and clear my head."
Normally when Scott went to "clear his head" he retreated to Lookout Point, a stately, secluded spot that looked over the town, but that was when he wanted to escape the hustle and bustle of the crowded mansion and be by himself. So where could he go when the last thing he wanted was to be alone?
The only answer he could think of was the local mall. Most of the shops were closed for the holiday and many people were celebrating it at home, but the clamor of the small crowds and the festive songs played throughout the aisles comforted him in a strange way, and he didn't feel quite so lonely.
Scott wandered past the department stores with little direction, and his eyes passed upon a figure gazing at the Nativity scene in one of the windows. Her back was turned to him and he wouldn't have paid her a second glance if he hadn't noticed the white streak in her hair. Stopping cold, it suddenly dawned on him that she was the one person he wanted to see, though up until then he hadn't realized it.
"Rogue!"
* * * * *
Hundreds of miles away in Northbrook that very same morning, someone was watching the Pryde house. Parked across the street in a rusty blue gremlin, he studied Alexander as he walked onto the porch for a cigar, and grinned at Kitty as she re-lit a candle on the menorah in the front window. A grubby hand reached in the glove compartment and pulled out a cell phone.
Griffin Hughes didn't look like a suspicious person. He was a slightly round, dull-eyed teen with a blue baseball cap hiding a head of blonde hair, and definitely didn't look like the sort of boy to be spying on other people. Still, that's just what he was doing.
"Pete! Hey, I found the place where he's stayin' with his girl. It's real swank, you should see it. . .uh-huh. . .I bet they've got a load of money. . .okay, got it. Later."
Having received his instructions, Griff shut off the phone and turned on the car. He drove away, never seeing Lance glaring at him from an upstairs window with hate in his eyes.
* * * * *
Rogue turned sharply at the sound of her name, and she looked at Scott in surprise. "You!" she exclaimed, taking a step back.
The boy's grin faded. "Easy, easy. I'm not here to cause any trouble."
"Sure yer not."
"No, really. I just wanted to say Merry Christmas."
The sight of Scott's warm smile struck her where it hurt most—her heart. Why did he have to be so friendly when she was trying to hate him?
"Well, Merry Christmas t'you too," she murmured in spite of herself.
Scott thrust his hands in his pockets. He was glad she hadn't run away when she saw him, or worse yet, attacked him, but suddenly he was at a loss for words. "So," he finally said, "Why are you here by yourself?"
"Why are you?"
"I asked you first." Again, that smile. Rogue tried not to look at him.
"Ah didn't feel like being cooped up with Mystique's goon squad anymore. Freddy nearly burned down the house with his new George Foreman Grill."
Scott laughed, relieved that the southern belle was warming up to him. Unlike the rest of his teammates, he refused to give up on her. He had talked to her at every opportune moment at school, always wearing a smile (little did he know that was what Rogue hated—and liked—about him), always trying to bring her into the light. Rogue couldn't be their enemy—would she have helped Kurt escape the Middleverse or be standing there with him right now if she was?
Rogue crossed her arms over her chest and said with a wry grin, "So spill it, Shades, what's up with you? Ah thought you would be with the X-Geeks singing carols door-to-door or giving puppies to orphans, not sulking like one o' the lost an' lonely."
"Sorry, but we're all out of puppies this year. Everyone else at the Institute has gone back home to be with their families."
"So why stay here? If ah had a place to go back to ah'd be outta Bayville in a heartbeat."
"Well then, we're on the same page. I also don't have family to go back to."
For once, Rogue didn't have a comeback. "Oh. . .that's too bad."
"Yeah, it is."
For a few moments, nothing more was said. The boy wrestled with his thoughts before making a decision. "Hey. . .would you like to do something? With me?"
Rogue's next word surprised even her. "Sure."
* * * * *
"So, the Prydes have a lot of dough, huh?"
The door to Griff's gremlin slammed shut as he and Pete stepped out onto the gravel. Their little base of operations was a run-down garage in the seamier side of Northbrook that had been abandoned for several years. It was a grimy, dirty place that felt just like home.
"Oh, yeah. I looked up the girl's old man, and apparently he's a banker."
"Good work, Griff. This could really pay off."
Pete opened the half-rotten door and a rat scurried back into the shadows. Cursing at the vermin, he didn't notice that it had been unlocked until he turned on the lights.
"Hey guys," Lance smirked, "Miss me?"
Pete's lips curled up in a sneer, and Griff turned white as a sheet.
"Lance! W-Where have you been, buddy?" The blonde boy made a move to run to his old friend, but Pete's hand stopped him.
"Just what the hell are you doing here?" he demanded.
Lance shrugged. "Just visiting my old haunts. That's not a problem, is it?"
"Yeah. You're not welcome here, Alvers."
"Not too long ago you wouldn't have dared talk to me like that."
"Times have changed! You said you were gonna get that girl to steal those exam answers, but instead you disappeared and left us holding the bag! We had to sneak in through the roof, but we set off the alarms and ended up expelled!"
"You know, that really doesn't sound like my problem."
Pete clenched his fists, his anger threatening to take control of him. "Like hell it isn't! You and your little chickadee owe us!"
At that, Lance dropped the façade. Any friendliness or kindness in him died and went to hell, and with a murderous look he grabbed his one-time friend by the collar.
"Stay away from the girl and her family. I'm warning you."
Ignored up until then, a nervous and frightened Griff found his voice. "Wuh-We weren't gonna do anything, Lance, honest!"
The enraged rock-tumbler turned his attention to the other boy. "Then why were you staking out their house?" Griff stiffened, and Lance continued. "You were always too stupid to cover your tracks."
"Shut up," Pete growled, shaking himself free of his grip. "We need cash, and the Prydes got it. You think you can stop us from taking what we want?"
"Yeah, I do." The mutant snatched Pete's arm, digging his fingers into his grimy skin. The ground around them began to rumble and shake, and plaster from the derelict ceiling crumbled and fell around them. "And you know why."
Lance shoved him to the ground and pushed Griff aside as he stormed out. The petrified youth ran to his hurt friend and looked at his arm.
"Are you all right?" Griff asked.
Pete pushed him away, grimacing. "Get away!" he hissed. Rising to his feet, he stared at the fingernail scratches in his skin and then looked up at the partially destroyed ceiling. "He thinks he can just come back here like nothing's wrong and push us around? That freak's got another thing coming."
* * * * *
Know your enemy.
That was one of the rules of combat Mystique had told her Brotherhood many times. But, as Rogue suspected, she hadn't quite meant it like this.
She was sitting across from Scott Summers (a.k.a. Cyclops, Shades, Four-Eyes and X-Geek Numero Uno) in, of all places, a Chinese restaurant, and the two were actually having a nice conversation.
"Dracula, hmm?" Scott said, taking a sip from his bowl of egg-drop soup. The topic was favorite books. "You know, the spring play's going to be Dracula: The Rock Opera. You should try out."
Rogue felt the heat rise to her cheeks. No one at the Boarding House ever cared about her interests like that. "No way. Could you see me on stage, dancing an' singin' an' makin' a fool outta myself?"
"Don't knock your acting ability. You were pretty good as Kate in Henry VIII."
The young goth remembered with some fondness their performance together in World Lit. Class weeks earlier. It was the first time they had really spoken to each other while not wearing spandex.
"Maybe ah'll try out," said Rogue with a slight smile. "But enough about me. Tell me something about you."
Scott rested his chin on his hand, looking almost embarrassed. Modest by nature, he wasn't used to tooting his own horn. "There's not much to tell, really."
"Oh, come on. You don't have t'be so mysterious."
"Mysterious? Me?"
"Yeah. You keep to yourself at school almost as much as ah do."
"Well, I have to dedicate myself to the X-Men. They need me. It's a 24-7 kind of job, and there's really no room for anything else."
"All work an' no play, eh?" Rogue smiled at him, and touched the tip of his nose with a gloved finger. He drew still, his expression unreadable. At that moment she wanted to take off his ruby-red sunglasses and look into his eyes, optic beams be damned.
Just then their waiter arrived, and delivered a pair of fortune cookies. Rogue cracked open the crunchy treat and read her fortune: "Grasp opportunities to create the future."
Scott frowned at his. "You are still hungry, eat another fortune cookie."
Rogue chuckled. "Should we take another order?"
"The fortune cookie doesn't lie."
An hour later, they were still there.
* * * * *
Lance walked back to the Pryde's home certain that he wasn't being followed. He hopped up the steps and reached for the front door when it opened for him. Kitty was behind it.
"I missed you this morning," she said, letting him inside the warm living room.
"I had to see some old friends."
"Griff and Pete?"
Lance's eyes widened, then he smiled. She never missed a beat. "Yeah."
Her expression fell. He could tell she was worried, and with a soft caress he brushed on of her long bangs behind an ear, lightly touching her skin.
"Hey, don't fret. I'll spend the whole day with you, I promise."
Kitty wrapped her arm around his. "I'd like that. We should really do something for you anyway, since it's Christmas. There's a winter carnival downtown. Sound fun?"
"Uh-huh. Let's go."
"I'd be glad to give you a ride," Alexander said, suddenly appearing in the kitchen doorway.
"Thanks, Daddy!" Kitty grinned. "I'll go get my jacket."
The girl disappeared down the hall, leaving the two men alone. Kitty's father wore a genial expression, but his smile gave Lance shivers.
"Say Lance, I've been meaning to ask you something."
"Shoot."
"Would you happen to be related to a man named Dominic Alvers?"
Unbeknownst to him, his voice echoed down the hall past the closet. Kitty stood behind the door, still and quiet, as Lance spoke.
"He was my father."
"Oh. Did he. . .pass on?"
"Yeah. He died a long time ago."
"I'm sorry." Sorry that rat got away with the three grand he embezzled from me.
Lance swallowed a lump in his throat. "How did you know him?"
"He used to work for me."
"I see."
"Ready to go?" Kitty asked as she joined them. Lance and her father nodded, and the three were off to the Winter Carnival.
It was a gray, murky afternoon, and heavy clouds hid the sun. The night was going to be a lot darker.
* * * * *
"Thanks for sharing that meal with me, Rogue," Scott said as they wandered outside the mall. Their feet crunching in the thick snow, they passed by a small old woman who smiled at them as if thinking, what a nice young couple. Scott wanted to correct her—No, it's not like that. At all.
"It was nice," his companion said mildly, burying her hands deep in the pockets of her trench coat. "Livin' with the Brotherhood has made me miss intelligent conversation."
Scott smiled, pleased that his Christmas hadn't been so lonesome after all. But before long the teens passed a platform of the Bayville Trolley. Rogue gave a lingering glance at Scott, then at the Trolley that was quickly being filled with passengers.
"Ah have to go," she finally said, "Before Mystique or anyone else finds out where ah've been."
"I understand." It was the truth—odds were Xavier wouldn't be very happy if he knew Scott had been fraternizing with the enemy.
She took a step on the red and gold trolley. Suddenly words were caught in the boy's throat.
"Listen, there's something I want to tell you…"
Rogue's head turned.
"We—the X-Men and I—didn't attack you in Georgia. We've never meant you any harm."
She closed her eyes. The electronic voice over the trolley's loudspeaker warned the passengers that it was about to leave, and as the doors closed she murmured two words that only confused Scott more.
"Ah know."
* * * * *
The normally green and peaceful Summerlea Park had been transformed into a winter wonderland of bright lights, delicious smells, and the delightful sounds of people having a good time. Mr. Pryde dropped off the teenagers at the carnival with a warning that he would pick them up no later than 10:00 and then drove off while talking urgently into his cellular phone.
Kitty's blue eyes were glittering as she gazed all around her. "Ready to have some fun?" she said playfully, taking his both his hands. Lance's answer was a smile, and without any words of protest he let Kitty pull him into the crowd.
Kitty had no idea that her rock-tumbling boyfriend had never been to a carnival before. Field Trips at the orphanage were rare, and when they did occur they were for educational purposes only, as if the administrators wanted to suck out what little fun remained in the children's lives. Even when Lance was out of the pen he had never ventured to the yearly Winter Carnival—as far as he was concerned such events were for losers and pansies. But as corny as it was, he had discovered that the right company could make anything worthwhile.
But it wasn't just Kitty's loving presence that brought about the lightness in his heart. The dark burden of leadership over a gang was off his shoulders. He no longer worried about being one step ahead of the police or how he'd hide the bruises on his body from his social worker. He was free from that life. He and Kitty were free to have fun and be themselves like any other normal teachers. Hell, that night they forgot they were even mutants. Standing together, they watched the moonrise and Lance knew that he was really truly absolutely positively happy.
He didn't know what to do with himself.
The carnival had many rides available, from the towering "Kamikaze" that suspended groups of people upside-down in midair, or the "Scrambler" that resembled a giant top and spun its passengers round and round at great speeds. Just looking at the rides made Lance's stomach churn; he and Kitty opted for the slow moving and much more romantic Ferris wheel instead.
The two secured a stall just for them. Sitting quite close together, they gazed out the wraparound windows as the wheel lifted them up towards the brilliant sky. A myriad of stars had joined the full moon, and the glittering Christmas Lights that decorated the carnival made it seem that stars had fallen to earth as well. It was almost unreal.
Kitty leaned against the strong frame of her companion, and felt his arm wrap around her shoulder. Lance could feel her small, warm body pressed against his, and his heart ached with an indefinable longing.
"Are you having a merry Christmas?" asked the girl softly.
He nodded, running a hand through her hair.
"When we get back, I have a present for you."
"I have something to give you too."
The words had double, perhaps triple meaning, and Kitty understood. The rest of the Ferris wheel ride was silent as the lovebirds contemplated each other.
* * * * *
Rogue made a lonely trek back to the Brotherhood of Bayville Boarding House, her mind drifting from the boy she had spent her Christmas with to the woman she called leader. She was torn between the two—one had given her a home and an identity, and the other offered true friendship and understanding. Mystique doted on her almost like a daughter, but Rogue suspected the shape-shifting principal had ulterior motives; would she care about her if she weren't a storehouse for mutant memories and powers? She truly didn't know, and that was what scared her.
But once the southern belle got past her initial distrust of Scott Summers—when she rejected Mystique's lies and started to think for herself—she didn't sense any deception or manipulation. Scott was…
Scott is what? she asked herself. When she couldn't find an answer she thought, I shouldn't get involved with him.
With newfound resolve Rogue reached for the knob on the boarding house's front door, but it was thrown open before she could touch it. Startled, she looked down at a nervous Todd Tolensky.
"Uh, heya, Rogue. We've been kinda expecting ya."
"What is it?" Glancing over his shoulder, she saw the Brotherhood and its leader assembled on the couches in the living room. A pregnant silence fell over the room as her teammates stared at her. Pietro was smirking, Tabitha seemed uninterested, and Freddy looked somewhat confused. As she took a tentative step inside, Mystique rose from her seat to greet her.
"Rogue my dear, look who's made it for the holidays."
It was then that Rogue noticed the woman sitting in the armchair, gazing at her from a pair of dark sunglasses.
"Irene!"
* * * * *
For about an hour following the trip on the Ferris wheel, nothing could ruin Lance's unbearably good mood. His girlfriend had persuaded him to try cotton candy for the first time, and while the sickly-sweet pink confection nearly made him as nauseas as the Scrambler, they had a good laugh about it. They then watched the band from their old high school butcher "White Christmas" on one of the stands. When Lance snickered at their off-key performance a little too loudly Kitty ribbed him, though she could hardly suppress her own chuckles.
His laughter abruptly stopped when he saw a longhaired teen in the crowd that looked suspiciously like Pete. His fist clenched, but a second glance told him the boy was too short and handsome to be his old orphanage pal. It was a false alarm, but it succeeded in dampening his spirits and putting him on edge again. What if Pete and Griff had followed them to the carnival and were watching them? Were they plotting something?
His thoughts ceased when the band's set ended and the crowd dispersed. Kitty asked if he wanted to try his luck at the shooting gallery, and he heard his voice reply yes. The rational part of his brain told him to concentrate on Kitty and make sure the night was special for her. There was no sense, it said, in being paranoid. He had scared his old gang away, all right. In the old days an angry demonstration of his mutant power would have them petrified and crying in a corner for a week, so they wouldn't dare show themselves now.
The ring toss game was especially easy for Lance. Walking up to the red and white-striped booth he had promised Kitty a teddy bear resting among the varied prizes, but to win it he had to toss a plastic ring around a wide-mouthed bottle elevated several feet away on a high box. The other folk around him who had tried before hadn't come close to winning, and some wondered if the game was rigged. Lance smirked confidently as he took the ring and hurled it across the booth. For a second it looked as if he had chucked it too far to the left, but Lance held his fist and made the earth tremble oh-so-slightly. The bottle he was aiming for rattled and moved to the left accordingly, and the cheap ring fell around it. It happened so quickly that none of the onlookers had even registered the small tremor, but the boy's girlfriend has noticed the white gleam his eyes he always had when he used his powers. She wasn't about to complain however, as he had done it for her. She squeezed the adorable plush toy, noting the dark fur it had was very close to the color of Lance's hair. Secretly deciding to name the bear Lancelot, she gazed up to thank him when she was taken aback by his expression. He was glaring at someone or something up ahead, though she could not discern who or what it was. His eyes had narrowed to dark little slits, and he put a firm hand on her shoulder.
"Kitty, I'll be right back. Stay here, okay?"
"What is it?"
"Nothing. I just have to take a leak." She knew he was lying, though he stalked off in the direction of the Port-A-Johns. Her lips creased into a frown.
Griff Hughes was hiding behind one of the odious green stalls of the portable toilets, beads of sweat dripping down his forehead. Afraid that Lance had seen him, he had jumped out of sight. When he peeked over the side of the stall he saw no sign of the older boy, and breathed a loud sigh of relief. His nerves were shot, though, when a hand clamped down on his shoulder. He tried to break away, but a powerful figure took his arm and bent it back, forcing him on his knees.
"L-Lance," Griff choked. "Please…"
"Shut up," he sneered, tightening his grip on the squealing piglet in front of him. "Why are you following me?"
"S-Supposed to watch you both. Then grab your girl when she was alone."
"Why?!"
"Her family's loaded. We wanted you to snatch us money from her folks and exchange it for her."
"Money? That's what Pete wants?"
"It's not just that, man. Pete hates your guts. He w-wants to hurt you…I-I think he wanted to fuck your girl while we had her just so he could gloat about it in front of you afterwards."
Completely enraged, he spun the boy around, taking him by the collar and lifting him off his feet. "And you were going to let him?" he questioned furiously. His brown eyes had darkened to the point of being black.
"I-I don't know, man," Griff quaked. "I can't go against him. Pete's scary, Lance. Scarier than you ever were."
"What's going on here?" a voice demanded. Both heads turned to see a portly security guard standing with his hands on his hips looking very unamused.
"Nothing, sir," Lance forced out the words, releasing Griff. The guard nodded curtly, then mosied away. Surprisingly, Griff didn't bolt when he had the chance. Instead he just rubbed his red arm with a guilty look on his face.
"Listen, Lance, my feelings towards you ain't exactly warm and fuzzy, but I don't hate you. I don't know why, but I don't. Maybe 'cause we used to be friends."
"Yeah. Used to."
"And that chick, Kitty, really doesn't have nuthin' to do with this mess. Pete is just fucked-up. I shouldn't tell you this, but…while you've been screwin' around with me, Pete's probably already got her."
* * * * *
There was a light on in the Pryde residence that night, when most of the neighborhood families were settling down to bed. It illuminated Alexander's home office, where he sat at his desk and stared down at the documents in front of him, hands clenched.
The name "Alvers" had set off an alarm in his head that day at the airport, and it buzzed in his brain until he connected it with a man he had given a job to out of pity several years earlier, only to have him steal thousands of dollars. Now his son was dating Alexander's daughter. Believing that the apple never fell far from the tree, he called an old friend who worked in social services and asked for a favor. Within two hours he was faxed a series of papers all pertaining to the troubled life of the ruffian who was sleeping under his roof.
The first document detailed his early home life. His natural parents, Dominic and Andrea, were con artists who operated under many aliases and were police suspects in several shady dealings. When Lance was in first grade his teacher reported seeing ugly bruises over the child's body, and his folks were watched under suspicion of child abuse. But the violence and neglect would continue until Dominic was charged with embezzling three grand from Alexander's bank. He and his wife fled the law, taking the money and leaving their only son.
Any sympathy Mr. Pryde felt for the boy disappeared when he read the account of his orphanage days. With no known relatives he was placed in a special center for abused and troubled boys. Troubled he was, for he started fights almost immediately and quickly attached himself to a violent crowd. At school he had poor grades and an even poorer attitude, often getting in tussles with teachers and bullying classmates. It was believed by his social workers that what Lance needed was a strong family influence to set him straight, and he was placed in several foster homes. He never stayed in one for longer than a few months because his foul temperament, unruly behavior, and lack of respect for authority made him a chore and a danger to care after.
As a teen he joined a gang with his former orphanage pals, racking up a handful of misdemeanors on his record. He was arrested for theft and street brawling, but the charges were dismissed due to his age. He and the members of his gang were under the careful eye of the Northbrook police for four long months when it was rumored that they were moving into drug dealing, but nothing came of it. As a senior at Northbrook High School he was barely scraping by until Charles Xavier whisked him away to his Institute in New York that was no doubt full of miscreants just like him. If Alexander had known that his precious daughter would be living with such violent characters, he would have told that bald liar to fuck his special school for "gifted" students.
The man was boiling over with rage, though his face was dangerously calm. What could Lance possibly want from Kitty? Money? Sex?
His stomach clenched.
There was no way in hell that delinquent would sleep in his house another night, nor was there any chance of him getting anywhere near Kitty ever again. She would be pulled out of the Xavier Institute immediately and stay home where she belonged.
Having made his decision, Alexander turned off the light and carried the papers into the bedroom where his wife lay. Tearing Rebecca away from the television he showed her his findings and explained the situation. Horrified, she insisted that he must be wrong. Rebecca hated to hear unpleasant things.
"It's true, goddammit! All of it. Something needs to be done, now."
* * * * *
Lance had been gone for a long time. Kitty wanted to pursue her erstwhile companion and demand an explanation, but she decided to stay put and try to enjoy herself. If Lance decided to come back, she'd give him a chance to tell her everything. If he didn't, well, she'd just beat it out of him.
Confused and hurt, the young freshman let out her frustrations at the shooting gallery. Water pistol firmly in hand, she let the duck-shaped target have it until the whistle blew and ended the game.
"You're a good shot," said a male voice. Turning her head, Kitty saw a stranger leaning against the booth with a crooked grin. He had a long face and stringy hair, and the odd look in his eyes raised her defenses.
"Thank you," she said, removing her eyes from his and walking away with Lancelot in her arms.
He shouted after her, "Hey, I think I know you! You're the long jump girl!"
Kitty stopped and looked at him again. At a second glance there was something familiar about him, though she couldn't place where she knew him, if she indeed did. His name for her spurred on a memory of a day two months earlier; the very day she met Lance. After being mocked by Riley for stumbling during the long jump, Lance defended her by causing a small sandstorm. He had waved at Kitty from the roof of the school, and there had been two other boys with him. One of them was standing in front of her.
"So…are you Griff or Pete?"
"Pete," he answered, amused that she knew so much. "I'm an old friend of Lance's. We go way back."
Kitty's eyes narrowed. "I've heard about what a great friend you are."
Before saying anything more, Pete looked her over. She was a pretty young thing, as Lindsey had told him. No doubt a sweet little virgin that dated a bad boy just to flirt with danger, she would be a piece of cake. That would have to wait until later however, when there weren't so many people around and she was sure not to put up a fight.
"See you on the flip side," he winked, disappearing into the throng and leaving an unnerved girl alone to mull over her curious encounter.
* * * * *
Lance darted through the streets, banging into people when they blocked his path or slowed him down. A woman he almost knocked down called him a very vulgar name and he didn't stop to return the greeting—he was so angry that if he paid her a bit of attention he'd lose it and do something stupid, which he couldn't afford to do since he was on a mission. He was at last back to the spot where he had left his girlfriend, but she wasn't in sight. Cursing, he scoured the area and spotted her in the distance. She was talking to none other than Pete.
The blood in Lance's veins ran cold. He fought his way through a small group of people ("Watch it, punk!") and ran to her side, but Pete had vanished. Kitty was still holding the bear he won for her and was none the worse for wear, save the scowl she threw in his direction.
Her expression was the only thing that stopped him from taking her in his arms and squeezing her with all his strength. Lance had been truly scared for one of the first times in his life. He knew Kitty wasn't a defenseless damsel who needed protecting; she was an X-Man who held her own against Logan in martial arts and turned laser firing to robots into tin cans in the Danger Room. If that two-bit hood had attacked her, she could handle him easily. But she was so dear to him that the thought of anything happening to her was too much to bear.
"Are you all right?" he asked between heavy breaths.
"Yes," she said airily, "Except that my boyfriend, like, abandoned me."
"I'm sorry…it's just…"
"Just what?" she implored, feeling the sting of tears behind her eyes. "What has been up with you, Lance? You disappear early in the morning, you disappear when we're supposed to be together, you don't tell me anything. . ."
"I don't want to trouble you!"
"Stop it!" cried Kitty suddenly. "Stop hiding things from me! What does our relationship mean if you won't let me in on your life? If something's wrong, you can tell me!"
"I can't!"
"Why!?"
"Because. . .you won't like what I have to say."
Her voice was soft. "Is that so? I might surprise you. If there's something that's really hurting you, I want to help."
Lance's lips formed the tiniest of smiles. "All right," he conceded while gazing into her azure eyes, "You win."
* * * * *
Kitty's neighborhood was shrouded in the shadows of night, the only real light coming from the occasional street lamp. Kitty and Lance walked down the illuminated sidewalk on their way home, having opted to walk the distance rather than call the girl's father for a ride. While the wintry wind was sometimes brutal, the trek enabled Lance to talk to Kitty without any interruptions or eavesdropping.
"…So I left the garage, thinking that I'd scared them off," he continued guiltily. "I thought they'd leave us alone, but sure enough, they were stalking us at the carnival."
Kitty, who had been quiet throughout most of Lance's explanation, now spoke. "But if Pete was after me, why did he walk away when he had me all alone?"
"I don't know. Maybe there were too many people around to grab you and get away clean, or maybe there never was a plot to abduct you. He could have been trying to mess with our heads."
Kitty let out a quiet sigh and shivered involuntarily. Lance had given her his jacket to wear, and she pulled it closer to her slim body. "It gives me the creeps thinking about that scummy guy watching our house. You should have at least told us what was going on or called the police."
"I know. That would have been the smart thing to do, but I doubted the heat would buy someone with my record suddenly ratting out his old gang. As for your parental units, honestly, I didn't want to give them a reason to hate me."
"Oh Lance, it's not as if you wanted this to happen," said Kitty soothingly, leaning against his tall frame. She glanced up ahead at her house. "Once we're home we'll take care o—LANCE!!"
She saw the attacker only a mere second before he struck, and by the time Lance's name escaped her lips he was lying face-first on the concrete with two figures standing over him. One was wielding a baseball bat, poised to strike again.
Lance groaned as sharp pain shot through his shoulder and struggled to turn his head to get a good look at his assailants. He saw the bat coming at him, then felt Kitty dart to his side and turn them both intangible.
Pete swore. It was so dark that he didn't see the bat phase through the teens as if they weren't there; he felt it slam into the sidewalk and thought he missed. Griff was behind him, holding his own steel bat and shaking. He had been told to take care of Lance's girl if she gave them any trouble, but he was too skittish and so startled by Pete's brutality that he couldn't bring himself to do anything.
Squinting, the dark-haired thug spotted his targets and swung the bat again with all the strength he could muster. "You're gonna get it now, freak!" he shouted vehemently.
Lance bared his teeth and threw out his arm before the blow could be struck, sending a powerful tremor through the earth under their feet. Griff stumbled, and the bat fell out of Pete's outstretched hands. Jumping up, Lance shook himself from Kitty's grasp and grabbed the fallen weapon. Pete was trying in vain to get a firm footing on the shaky ground, and was taken completely by surprise when the bat connected with his chest, sending him flying. Griff gasped before being struck down by Lance's hand as well.
"Do not point a weapon at me," growled the berserk rock-tumbler, "Unless you know how to use it!"
The bat fell from Lance's fingers, and he began to pound the boys with his own bloodied fists. Turning his "attentions" toward Griff, he took his eyes off Pete for a moment and the bruised delinquent made a move to grab the discarded bat. Kitty, who had up until then watched the fight in a numb state of horror, saw this and dashed for the bat as well. Pete was faster and smacked her away with a snarl. Hearing her small cry Lance lunged at Pete, more enraged than ever before. One hand held him by the throat and the other punched his face over and over in a violent rhythm.
"Stop it, Lance!" Kitty's voice begged. Her words seemed to penetrate his veil of rage, and he held back his fist. Pete, who was somehow holding onto consciousness, smirked. Blood dribbled down his chin.
"It's nice. . .t. . .to see you huh-haven't changed."
Pure hatred flashed in Lance's eyes. But as he delivered another blow Kitty phased through his chest, taking hold of Pete. Lance's fist went right through them. From Pete's mouth came garbled screeches of fright—he threw off Kitty's hand and fled, pulling along a semi-conscious Griff with him. They disappeared into the night, but neither Lance nor Kitty watched them go. Their eyes were locked in a tense moment that felt like an infinity. The boy glimpsed his reflection in her pupils and pulled away, disgusted with what he had seen in himself. He was trembling.
Lights began to turn on in the windows of a few nearby homes. It was no question that they had caused enough commotion to wake the neighbors. Gathering Lance, Kitty rushed him through the front door of their house and shut it before anyone looking out could recognize them. She idly wondered what they'd say when they saw the street upturned in the morning.
Lance sunk in a chair in the living room with his head hanging low. He rubbed his knuckles, which were bleeding and scraped raw. Wordlessly Kitty went into the kitchen and took the first aid kit; within moments she was applying antiseptic and bandaging his hands.
The boy watched in wonder as she fussed over him and took care of his injuries. Her fingers were so soft and gentle. . .he couldn't help thinking that he didn't deserve any of it. He wanted to thank her, tell her how much she meant to him, but all that came out was…
"I should have killed those guys."
"Oh God, please don't say anything like that!"
"I should have. You…you don't understand. They were going to hurt you and your family just to hurt me! All of it was for hate's sake!"
"And beating them to death would have accomplished what? They're not worth it."
His voice was hoarse and weary. "But they'll just keep coming back!"
She stroked his cheek, looking into his eyes. "No, they won't. It's over, love."
Suddenly Lance wrapped his arms around her and pressed her against his body as if trying to merge them into one being. They could feel the frantic beatings of each other's hearts.
"I love you."
For Kitty, time seemed to stop as he whispered the words over and over again.
"I don't even love myself, Kitty, but I love you."
He felt her arms tighten around his body. The young mutants' senses were enflamed as they kissed madly and desperately.
"I love you too," Kitty murmured huskily in his ear. "Lance…"
"Please…don't give up on me."
Kitty began to respond, but quickly covered her mouth when she heard footsteps on the front staircase. The teens hastily parted just as Alexander and Rebecca marched downstairs.
"What is going on here?" Kitty's father demanded when he saw their flushed, guilty faces.
"Nothing, Daddy."
Rebecca, who had just dressed for bed, hurried over to her daughter's side, seemingly oblivious to the fact that she and her husband had caught the youths in a compromising position.
"Honey, you're home so early!" she fussed. "You should have called us!"
Lance was tongue-tied, lowering his hands to try and hide the blood-splotched bandages. Her cheeks still bright pink, Kitty tried to explain. "Well, Mom, we didn't want to disturb you! And it was such a nice night that we really didn't mind walking, did we?" she turned to Lance.
"Oh no, not at all. We had a great time." Smile and nod, smile and nod. . .
Mrs. Pryde accepted their answers without question, but her husband looked ready to kill.
"Kitty, we need to talk for a moment,"--his eyes darted to Lance--"Alone."
Gulping, the girl left her boyfriend's lap, giving him one last look. Lance's eyes seemed to say "it's all right" and she followed her parents into the kitchen with a growing feeling of unease. The door slammed shut behind them, leaving the rock-tumbler by himself.
Lance let out a deep breath as a shiver ran down his spine. He could hear the muted voices of Kitty and her father in the other room, though the words were too garbled to make out clearly. He could perceive a rise in Alexander's tone however, and guessed that the older man was mad. Slowly the minutes passed, and the pit in the boy's stomach grew. His curiosity getting the better of him, he left his seat and crept closer to the kitchen door in order to get an idea of what was going on.
He heard bits of Kitty's outraged voice: "--can't believe you'd do something like this--"
Then, Alexander: "--had every right--"
"--won't listen to this--"
"--do as you're told--"
"No!"
Without warning Kitty phased through the door, looking absolutely livid. She didn't even notice that she had startled Lance, or that he was eavesdropping—she just ran to his side and let him put his arm around her.
"There will be none of that in my house, Katherine!" Mr. Pryde snapped after her, throwing open the door. He was angry enough already, but he was furious when he saw his daughter taking comfort from Lance.
"Don't touch her, you little scumbag!"
Tightening his protective grip on Kitty, Lance snarled, "What did you say to me, old man?!"
"I know all about you, Alvers! You're nothing but a thief and a thug, and I'm not going to let you take advantage of my little girl!"
"You don't know what you're talking about!" yelled Kitty. "Lance would never hurt me!"
"My God, Katherine, don't be so naïve! You think he loves you? You think he'll stay with you after he gets what he wants? He's no good! Now, come here--!"
Kitty's father grabbed her arm and forcefully tried to pry her away from her boyfriend. Kitty phased out of his strong grip and Lance stepped in between her and Alexander. The man threw himself at the mutant, but he was pushed away and crashed into a table. Rebecca, who had been crying in the kitchen, screamed.
Alexander picked himself off the floor, and looked at his only child. "Is this what you want?" his gaze shifted to Lance. "This mongrel that brings violence into our home? I saw the fight outside on the street. No doubt those thugs were repaying a favor to your wonderful boyfriend."
"No!" Kitty shouted with all the power of her lungs. Tears stung her eyes. "That's not true, Dad. This is all a horrible misunderstanding. Please, just let me explain!"
"No!" Alexander pointed a finger at her, eyes flashing. "You will keep your mouth shut and go upstairs while I call the police! Then once this piece of filth is locked away I'm taking you out of that goddamned school!"
"You can't!"
"Watch me!"
At that moment a peculiar expression flashed over Lance's face, as if he had made a decision. He stormed over to the nearest phone and, picking up the receiver, dialed a number.
"What are you doing?" Alexander demanded.
"Calling a cab. We're out of here."
"Right." Kitty's face glowed and she darted up the stairs.
"Kitty!" Rebecca wailed, clutching the mantelpiece. In what felt like less than a minute the girl returned with both her and Lance's suitcases in tow.
"You're not going anywhere!" bellowed Mr. Pryde. He tried to snatch her arm again, but his fingers went right through her. She faced him, but in her blue eyes he didn't see the shy little girl who always did what Daddy said was best. She was older, more mature, a stranger to him. She was an X-Man, and she knew what she had to do.
"You can't make my decisions any more," she firmly told him. "Please understand…I have to do what's right for me."
"Turning your back on your family is 'right?!'"
"My family is in Bayville."
Lance smirked, inadvertently turning Mr. Pryde's attention back in his direction.
"You're responsible for this!" he accused, ready to lunge on him again. But Kitty intervened by firmly taking her chosen companion's hand and phased them both through the front door. Kitty kept walking as her parents yelled after her and cursed the boy at her side. It was a struggle to keep walking down the street without looking back or showing any weakness, but finally she began to break down and sob. A reassuring arm wrapped around her shoulder as Lance sent a small tremor through the stately Pryde residence, temporarily silencing the screaming parents.
"They should really quiet down, you know," he remarked with a bitter laugh as the yellow cab pulled up beside them. The ravaged sidewalk that was his personal handiwork came into view. "They'll wake the whole neighborhood."
* * * * *
The young couple was dropped off at the local airport, planning on hopping the next available flight to Bayville. The place was bursting with people despite the holiday and late hour, and Kitty and Lance stuck closely together as he tried to buy a ticket.
"Well sir," said the operator as she checked the computer database, "We had a flight scheduled to leave for Bayville in two hours."
"Great! We'll take two tickets!" grinned Lance.
"I'm sorry, but it's been delayed due to a snow storm."
"Delayed?!" he drew back. "For how long?"
"Several hours I'm afraid, sir. Usually we wait until morning for these things to clear up, so it most likely won't be here until mid-morning tomorrow."
The boy cursed under his breath while Kitty gave a disappointed sigh. Now what would they do?
"Sir, you could check into the airport hotel for the night. According to my computer there are several vacancies left, and it beats sleeping on the floor here."
Lance and Kitty exchanged glances.
"We'll take it."
* * * * *
The hotel room occupied by Lance and Kitty was roomy and comfortable, with a big-screen TV, mini-bar, and sunken bathtub with shower. The available suites all had single beds, but neither of the teens minded. They had slept in the same bed before, after all.
Kitty kicked off her shoes and fell atop the large mattress, burying her face in one of the lush feather pillows. Not only was she mentally and physically drained, she felt as if she could sleep for days. As much as she wanted to sleep peacefully and forget all her woes, one fear still gripped her.
"Do think my parents called the police?"
"Hmm?" Lance raised an eyebrow as he flung his jacket to the floor. "I don't know. Your dad was pretty pissed off."
"Maybe we shouldn't have checked in under our real names," she said nervously.
"I think we'll be all right for the night. Don't worry, we'll be back at the Institute in a few hours and this will all be behind us."
Suddenly Kitty had an idea. "The Professor! We should call him!"
Lance rubbed the back of his neck and his shoulder. The area was still tender from the baseball bat's brutal hit. "Really?"
She nodded. "Yup! We should give him a warning if my parents really are going to call the police on us, or at the very least let him know that we're coming."
The boy thought about how creepy Xavier could be, and how he probably already knew they were on their way back to New York. But Kitty needed reassurance.
"All right, give him a ring. He'll know exactly what to do. As for me, I'm gonna take a shower." He leaned over and kissed her check softly. "It's going to be all right, Kitty."
"I know."
* * * * *
The shower felt great. The hot water cleansed his body of the dirt and grime he had accumulated over the long day, and it seemed to refresh his soul as well. He stepped out of the steamy bathroom in his jeans with a towel flung over his shoulders, his long hair dripping wet. He felt quite good until he saw his girlfriend hunched over the bed, whispering into the phone as tears streamed down her face. She then hung up and jumped a little when she saw Lance standing in the bathroom doorway.
"What's wrong?" he asked, rushing to her side.
"That was my mother," she sniffled.
"She knows where we are?!"
"No…when you went to take a shower I was about to call Xavier when he called here. He said that Cerebro detected us using our powers at home and wanted to make sure everything was all right. I told him the whole story and, like, he said that he would 'take care of it'. Maybe I'm being silly, but just the way he said it made me want to call home. I told Mom that we're okay, and then she said that the strangest thing had happened. My father drove off after us to trail the cab, but he came back only a few minutes later and went to bed without saying a word to her. Mom said he looked dazed, or in a trance. . .you don't think it could have been the Professor, do you?"
"It sounds like a telepath's doing. I wouldn't be surprised if your dad's now my number-one fan."
"If only," said Kitty wistfully, wiping a tear off her cheek. "But I don't want to go back to make sure. I don't want to go back at all. I just want to go home--to Bayville."
Lance nodded, sitting next to her on the bed and taking her hand. "But please tell me, what did your father say to you in the kitchen that caused this mess?"
Kitty frowned. "Dad thought it was his, like, fatherly duty to do a background check on my boyfriend. He told me all these horrible things about you and your family then forbid me to see you."
"Horrible things? About me and…my parents?"
"Yeah. He told me they were scum, and that you weren't any better. Then he talked about things you did with your gang…"
"I'm sorry to say this, but anything he told you about me was probably true."
"I already know, Lance. You told me bits about your past before, and I don't care what you've done! I just wish I had heard it all from you instead of him."
He closed his eyes. "I should have been honest with you a long time ago. Then you wouldn't have had to go through all this."
"I'll live. It's just, like, he had no right to snoop around your private life and talk about you like that!"
"And he had no right to try to keep you under his thumb. But at least he did it all out of love. There are some parents who wreck their kids' lives out of spite. Like mine."
"I heard you tell Dad your father passed away."
"Well, it's possible he did. I don't really know."
"You don't know if your own father is dead?" she whispered in astonishment.
"They haven't been heard from in years. Can't say I care whether they bought the big one or not. To Andrea and Dominic I was always more of a nuisance than a son."
Kitty wanted to ask, "how can you say that so casually?" but she understood. Pain and rejection from the ones closest to him was something he was all too accustomed to.
"Lance, you know that I'm always here for you, right?"
"Yeah. You know I love you, right?"
She giggled. "Yeah."
"So let's stop talking about depressing stuff. It's Christmas--well, it is for another forty minutes. I have a present for you."
"Me too."
Lance left the bed to rummage through his suitcase while
Kitty fetched her own gift. They hopped on the bed facing each other, both
excited. He handed her a small gold-wrapped box.
"I'm sorry I'm giving this to you on the wrong holiday and that there's only one gift. I totally didn't know there were eight days of Hanukah till Kurt burst my bubble."
"It's all right, really! I'm sure I'll love it." She then unwrapped the paper and opened the tiny box. Inside was a necklace of the Star of David. Its smooth, silver surface glittered in the light.
"It's beautiful!" she gushed.
Wearing a proud smile, Lance fastened it around her neck. "I'm glad you like it."
"Now, open yours."
Obeying his lady's command, Lance shredded the snowflake-print wrapping paper and opened a red box, revealing a long black wool scarf.
"Do you like it? I thought you must be cold wearing nothing but your old leather jacket in the winter."
"It's great," he said truthfully, taking it and feeling the soft material between his fingers. On the tag he saw that Kitty's feminine cursive had lovingly written his name. "It's really the best Christmas gift I've ever gotten."
He thanked her with a long kiss.
* * * * *
Kitty slept like a baby that night, cuddled up under the covers of the king-size bed beside her boyfriend, with the necklace he had given her still around her neck and Lancelot under one arm. She had just started a rather pleasant dream when a peculiar sound invaded her thoughts, stirring her awake.
What is that? thought Kitty groggily, trying to block out the noise by covering her head with a pillow. But it persisted in keeping the girl awake until, having come to her senses, she realized that the sounds were coming from the body next to her. Peering at him, she made out his dark shape curled up at the edge of the bed, covering his face to muffle himself.
She turned over and touched his shoulder. "Lance?" she whispered gently. He pulled away, still covering his face. It was then that Kitty realized he had been crying.
"Are you okay? What is it?"
The worry in her voice was heart wrenching. He couldn't tell her about his nightmare—that he had been a little boy again, at the mercy of his unloving parents and uncaring social workers. That he was being beaten by Jerry the Bully again--like he had been when his powers first emerged--only Jerry morphed into Pete, and then his father Dominic, the worst of all. Gripped by fear, the youth had tried to fight back, but was overwhelmed. He had no mutant to protect himself with. He was too small and too weak to fight the demons with faces from his past. And there was nothing—no one—that could save him.
Upon awaking in a cold sweat, all the feelings and memories that Lance had buried deep within his heart broke to the surface and overtook him. There was no more rage left inside, only a deep and penetrating sorrow. Kitty wanted to help him, but there seemed to be no way to translate his pain into words. All he could do was weep.
Kitty placed her hands on his, revealing his tear-stained face. Moved, she wrapped her arms around his body and pressed him against her. His head resting upon her breast, she caressed his cheek and whispered nothings in his ear.
"It's all right, baby, it's all right," she murmured softly. "Let it out."
He was ashamed that she had seen his display of weakness, but didn't fight her embrace. Instead, he melted into it, holding onto her as tightly as she held him.
"I try. . .I try so hard. . .but the more I hold it back the more it spills out," said Lance, squeezing his eyes shut.
"You demand so much of yourself. Just relax. I'm here, and I won't leave you." To emphasize that point, she lightly kissed his forehead. Her lips traveled down his face, brushing both of his closed eyes and wiping away the tears. Finally she kissed his lips, and he responded by kissing her back. It was a firm, passionate kiss, and a fire had been lit inside Lance. A fire fueled not just by desire, but a powerful need for which there was only one cure.
Kitty's feelings of desire were rising to the surface as well. Her cheeks were flushed, and she broke away for a bit of air before smiling and kissing him again. Their tongues met and danced; it was a delicious sensation for both of them. The boy's hand moved up and down her back before sliding around her waist. It rested there a few moments, lightly tickling her side, then inched up under her pink nightshirt. A tiny gasp escaped her lips as his long fingers explored her, but she did not break from the embrace. Instead, she took hold of the edges of Lance's undershirt and tried to pull it over his head, but their position on the bed made it difficult. With a small grunt Lance sat up and raised his arms, allowing her to remove the offending garment.
Kitty's heart beat faster at the sight of his nude torso. She had seen him without his shirt before, but it hadn't been like this. He drew her to him, and she pressed herself against his body as he covered her face in soft kisses. His skin was so hot it felt as if a single touch could burn her, and she wouldn't mind at all if it did. Lance's fingers ran through her hair and pulled away the tie that held it atop her head, letting her sleek brown tresses tumble down her shoulders. He whispered her name in her ear before moving his lips downward, toward her neck.
"Oh!" Kitty cried in surprise as he gave her an affectionate love bite. She held back more giggles as he continued to kiss and nibble her sensitive skin, and suddenly found herself wanting more. It was her turn to take Lance by surprise by falling back down on the bed and taking him with her.
Lance flashed a smile as she took his face in her hands and brought their lips together once more. She was so very beautiful. He felt more sharp pangs of yearning when Kitty's legs wrapped around his waist, locking him in an embrace he had no desire to leave. He knew she could feel his arousal pressed against her thigh…they were moving so fast…did she want to finish this?
Their gazes locked.
"Love me," she whispered desperately.
"Kitty, I…are you sure?" asked Lance between heavy breaths.
"Yes. Are you?"
"Yes."
And no more words were said.
* * * * *
The young mutants of the Brotherhood of Bayville Boarding House were all asleep, and the large dwelling was completely silent minus the heavy sounds of Fred's snoring. Yet the two elder mutants inside Mystique's grand chambers remained awake and alert, for they were discussing important matters.
"Rogue was quite happy to see you, Irene, just as I imagined she would be," said Mystique as she poured hot herbal tea into two sterling silver goblets. Her tone was quiet, subdued, and almost gentle. Her blind friend was one of the precious few who could bring out any softness in the hardened fighter.
"It was good to see her." Sitting in a gorgeously ornate chair that had been stolen from a French palace, Irene brought the goblet to her lips and drank. The steaming brew burned her tongue and the roof of her mouth, but it was a good sort of pain. Kept her sharp. "I've seen her in my visions."
"What does the future say?"
"Her faith in our cause is wavering. She is beginning to suspect you, and you won't be able to hide the truth from her for much longer. Also, she is smitten with Xavier's strongest follower. I believe you know him by the name of Scott Summers."
Mystique hissed, "Summers?! I won't let that over-righteous Boy Scout pollute her mind with Xavier's foolish dreams! We shall not lose her!"
"It's that attitude that's driving her away. Rogue fears that she's nothing more than a weapon to you."
"That is preposterous," the shape-shifter huffed.
Irene faced Mystique. Impossible as it seemed, she looked as if she was staring into her companion's very soul.
"Perhaps." A beat. "You know, of course, that I did not come here just to talk about our daughter."
Mystique nodded. "The time is coming, isn't it? After all these months of lying in wait. I only stopped pursuing the boy because of your predictions."
"I know, Raven. Soon enough we will strike, and the child of rage shall be our acting hand. Xavier's world will crumble."
"—And that which we seek shall be ours. Our. . .benefactor. . .will be most pleased to hear your words."
"Yes. It is imperative that Magneto be alerted that the Mindcoil is awake. . .and aware."
* * * * *
In the depths of the Xavier Institute for Gifted Youngsters, in a secret chamber shrouded in total darkness, something lived. It began to twitch and move in its watery prison as if something had disturbed it. Had there been light in the chamber, a strange gray blob resembling a human brain would be seen floating in a tank of amniotic fluid, a variety of wires and tubes connected to its misshapen form.
It had no mouth to speak from, yet words came from the entity known only as the Mindcoil.
**I have a name. . .and a voice. . .now I need a body.**
* * * * * * * * * * * *
To Be Continued…
* * * * * * * * * * * *
Author's Notes: At last the fic lives up to its PG-13 rating! This chapter was a lot of fun to write, since I'm a major fan of angst, fluff, and the occasional smut. I assure you that the sex isn't completely gratuitous, as it will affect the plot (and before anyone asks: no, Kitty isn't pregnant :p ) The seeds have been planted for a possible Scott/Rogue romance as well, that came about after watching several early episodes and asking myself, "What would happen if Scott just got over Miss Perfect?" This was also my first attempt at writing Rogue's accent, so please let me know if I did a terrible job. -_- Oh, and the idea for Lance's gift to Kitty came from issue nine of the short-lived Evo comic, wherein Kitty wears a Star of David necklace.
So, what is the Mindcoil? How is it connected to Magneto and Xavier? What did Destiny foresee, and just what are Mystique's plans for Lance? Keep reading to find out! (And, as always, please review!) ~Sandoz