Cyclops was fuming. Their simple pickup and extraction operation turned into a full-fledged ambush. That wasn't what irked him so much – he expected the extraction to become a combat mission. Scott Summers was not angry about the risk they placed themselves under… since, after all, they undertook these risks almost all the time. And he wasn't angry at the outcome: all X-Men accounted for, no significant body count among their adversaries, and they DID achieve their mission objectives… albeit, with consequences. In fact, he wasn't angry over ANY of those things but, mind you, he was VERY angry indeed.
The X-Men were sent to furnish an escape route for a known and wanted mutant terrorist. All the way back from England, Cyclops just KNEW that they were being followed or tracked by the authorities. He realized that if the British SAS had been trailing the terrorist, then they would have captured her before the X-Men arrived. But the SAS arrived AFTER the X-Men landed – meaning that it was the Blackbird they were tailing. The SAS must've been tracking the jet's movements in order to triangulate their exact landing location – which begs the question as to why they were doing it in the first place. The only logical conclusion: they knew that the X-Men were coming to get Emma Grace Frost.
Frost. What did she do back there during the battle? Why did she do it? What drove this seemingly amoral woman to such heights of self-sacrifice? Sadly, he thought, he'd never get the chance to ask her. The woman in their emergency infirmary was basically brain-dead. Aside from respiratory, circulatory, and other autonomic functions… there was absolutely no brain activity. She was less than comatose… she wasn't there at all. He figured that her autonomic brain activity would soon destabilize and her body would join her mind, in death. And would that really be a tragic end? Even though the woman out and out saved all of their lives, did that in ANY way make up for all the lives that the Hellfire Club has taken, destroyed, and manipulated?
"Scott, are you listening to me?" asked Storm, "We're approaching the school!"
Cyclops was shaken out of his personal maelstrom, and looked at the ebony beauty with a confused expression. Suddenly remembering that he was flying the Blackbird, he quickly glanced at the controls. "Thank You Ororo", he stammered, "I was trying to sort all of this out…"
"I know Scott", Storm placed a soft hand on her friend's clenched fist. "I'm trying to figure out why we did this too. Why'd we go to England in the first place… and why didn't the Professor tell us about these Hellfire people before now?"
"That's exactly what I'm thinkin'!" Wolverine bit hard on the cigar he just lit up – which quickly iced over and was extinguished. He shot Bobby Drake the most murderous glare he'd ever given another human being. "Cute", he said – then turning back to the others… "Chuck ain't been straight with me since day one! Figure he owes us all a good explanation about why we're rescuing criminals!"
"Perhaps it waz an act of compassion", Nightcrawler smiled shyly as he spoke, "Or perhaps it waz repaying an old debt…" He looked for someone, anyone's affirmation – but noone was buying it. "Or perhaps the Professor just needs to make himself more clearer, yes?"
"Yes Kurt", Storm agreed, "the Professor DOES need to fill us in on what's going on…"
"Yeah", Cyclops admitted, although with some reservations creeping in. He still remembered Emma Frost's words… that they didn't know Xavier as well as they believed. What was she talking about? Was it true… or was she just trying to mislead and confuse them? That didn't matter now, anyhow. The woman was comatose – lobotomized by the new anti-mutant toys of the British government. Cyclops looked at his teammates in turn, nodding to each one, saying, "I'll get to the bottom of this with the Professor, then we're DEFINITELY having a group meeting."
"Why?" asked Wolverine, "So you and Chuck can get your stories straight?"
"Logan, I thought we got past that! I'm not…" but Scott was cut off before he could finish his statement.
"He's not the only one who's thinking that", Storm looked her friend in the eyes, or rather his visor. "I've been at the mansion almost as long as you have, and sometimes you even make ME feel like an outsider. I only get told what I 'need to know'. Well dammit Scott, I NEED TO KNOW!"
"Ororo… honey…" Cyclops searched for words, "We… we do what we must do… what we have to do… for the good of the school, and for the team… and sometimes for the good of ALL mutants. Look, sometimes I don't understand the things we do, like getting this woman (pointing to Emma Frost), but I do my duty anyway, because I trust Charles Xavier. I believe in his dream. Like Jean believed his dream. Like I thought YOU did…"
Tears began to sting the weather goddess' pristine eyes. "Don't you DARE… Scott Summers! I believe in OUR dream for a better world… just like Jean did… and just like I thought YOU did. That doesn't mean I do what I'm told with my eyes closed."
"'Ro…" Cyclops was now FUMBLING for words, "I didn't mean that you don't… I mean… (lets out a pent up breath) I don't know what I meant. I'm sorry. I love you Ro. You're my best friend… and I haven't been there for you since…" He stammered as he spoke, and couldn't say the words "since Jean died". Storm saw the pause in her friend's countenance, and her own heart softened.
"It's ok, Fearless", Storm took Cyclops' hand into her own, (Looking at Nightcrawler) "I've had a guardian angel looking after me. I know you're trying to cope. We all are. But Scott?"
"Yeah?" Cyclops stammered.
"When you talk to the Professor, could you tell him how we feel? Right now is not the time for secrets. We need to trust each other MORE now than ever."
"I will Ororo", Cyclops turned his attention to the controls, and set the Blackbird's automatic landing sequence. The jet glided over the treetops of Westchester county, and sailed through the air to the rear basketball courts of Xavier's Institute for Gifted Youngsters. There, where a tarmac and hoop poles once were, a huge gaping subterranean hangar now opened. The clandestine jet hovered over the mouth of the entrance, then began its steady descent. As it lowered beneath the earth, the asphalt-covered bay doors closed in behind it. After the jet touched down, the X-Men disembarked their vehicle, too weary to continue their conversation. Marie and Piotr were waiting for them, though Marie was ecstatically happier to see the X-Men – or rather a certain X-Man – than the Russian teen. She bounded into the Iceman's arms, nearly flooring him, as Piotr went to aid Logan in bringing the lifeless Emma Frost off of the jet. Logan then followed Scott to the infirmary, wheeling Emma Frost in a stretcher. They lifted the scantily clad beauty from the stretcher, and into a proper examination bed. Cyclops' eyes blinked momentarily (as if in a trance), and then he began performing all manner of medical diagnostic procedures on the prone woman.
Logan was flabbergasted by the man's surprisingly SUDDEN medical knowledge, but then he remembered "Jean's in there with him." He smiled inwardly at Jean's genius. He surmised that Jean's intent was to preserve herself – or at least her useful knowledge and skills – if they managed to survive Aikili Lake. As he watched the other man's medical expertise, the door opened… and Charles Xavier wheeled in on his motorized wheelchair.
"I see that our guest has seen better days." Xavier stated.
"She's dead to the world Chuck", Wolverine said dryly. "I'm goin' to bed. You two got things to talk about." Looking at Cyclops, he nodded a silent farewell. He barely acknowledged the Professor as he stepped out of the infirmary. Charles Xavier gave Cyclops a bewildered look. He could have easily scanned the entire X-Men team to get any information he wanted, but his ethics wouldn't allow him to. He was getting the cold shoulder from his charges, and he was going to get to the bottom of this… the old fashioned way…
"Scott, what is going on? I barely got a goodnight from any of the others, and Logan didn't say a word to me…"
"Let me finish this up Professor", Cyclops reached for another electrode. He fastened it to Frost's exposed midriff very carefully, peeling back the adhesive covering and pressing firmly while fitting the lead wire. Cyclops reminded the Professor of Jean Grey, the way he kept wiping his brow every few minutes. Turning to Xavier, he said, "The others are just waiting to see what you tell me about this little… trip."
"This was no little trip", Xavier wheeled closer to Cyclops, "This was a very important mission. This woman could have had information that would be invaluable to us. She was well-connected, very wealthy, and was involved in one of the most secret organizations in the world."
"Apparently not secret enough."
"What is that supposed to mean?"
"It means that you KNEW about Frost and the Hellfire Club. It means that you MUST'VE had dealings with them – maybe outright TIES to them. Is that why you have that psionic phone rigged up?"
Charles Xavier closed his eyes for a short moment, letting the words sink in, before he spoke again. "Scott… it's true. I have known of the Hellfire Club for quite some time. They've even offered me membership time and again… and EACH time I've turned them down."
"But Professor, why build a rapport with this Frost
person? You could get identified as a
terrorist! How much contact did you
have with this woman (pointing at Frost)?"
"Not enough, apparently (looking down at Frost). I had no idea about how far or how twisted their Machiavellian
schemes were. For a time I tried to
recruit some of them over to my side, join in my dream of building a better
world for mutants and humans. But it
became clear that while they didn't want to kill humans, they still wanted to
kill something far more precious: human dignity and freedom."
"But why not just turn them in? Why not alert the authorities?"
"The authorities? You mean those same 'authorities' that are systematically slaughtering mutants as we speak?"
"Yes, Professor… THOSE authorities. I'm not condoning their tactics… but… but look at what set it off! The ENTIRE world, every person on the globe… was mentally assaulted. Millions were killed. You telling me that they're just supposed sit in a circle with us and sing 'kumbaya' after that?"
"Of course not! But what they're doing, what they've BEEN doing… is not beyond reproach. And you tell ME, Scott Summers, how long do you think before they start admitting that they see ALL mutants as a threat, not just the ones they label 'terrorists'?"
"Professor, you're starting to sound like FREAKIN' MAGNETO! That bastard started all of this! Your little old pal… the one who helped you make Cerebro… figured out how to use it as a weapon… and got Jean killed in the process!"
"Scott…" Xavier was starting to sense the younger man's emotions kick into overdrive. It was difficult for a human being to manage their own emotions in a time of crisis, but Scott was carrying almost the entire psyche and emotional energy of another person as well – and a telepath at that. Despite he and Xavier's sessions, he still had to concentrate ferociously to avoid losing control. "Scott, focus on me… focus on the here and now… (using his mental powers) stop thinking about Jean's death, and focus on the life that she gave you… remember that…"
"Thank you Professor", Cyclops was regaining his composure, he rubbed his temple as if getting over a massive headache (turning to Emma Frost) "What about her? How is she doing… mentally I mean? Can we get any useful information out of her?"
"No chance of that, I'm afraid. There is hardly anyone in there. Her body is fine, but her mind is in tatters. There simply isn't enough in her psyche to qualify as a person. In psionic terms, she's dead."
"Then we failed…", Scott drooped his head and suddenly slammed his fists on the table. "We failed the mission… we failed you Jean… I failed you…again…" His breathing became ragged, and he grit his teeth. The torrent of emotions were starting to surface again… how long had it been since his last uninterrupted session with the Professor? Too long, apparently. "Professor", he gasped as he clutched his head, "help me…"
_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_
Nightcrawler sat lithely on Storm's bed, as the dark skinned woman paced back and forth. "Why do you worry so much 'fraulein'? We survived the mission today. Is that not comforting to you?"
"Today maybe Kurt, but what about tomorrow?" She finally stopped pacing and plopped herself down on her favorite chair. It was an antique, ornately decorated Victorian era chair. The perfect throne for the mansion's resident queen.
"I say, do not worry about tomorrow. Let tomorrow worry about itself. Every day has its own trouble."
The shiny silk robe she wore over her white nightgown wrinkled as Storm crossed her arms. "How do you always know what to say, Mr. Wagner? I don't get you. All of us are stressed out and you're cool as a cucumber."
"I am like a vegetable?"
"It's a figure of speech." She threw him the most vibrant smile he had ever seen. His yellow eyes just gazed at her, his very own princess. Though he thought it presumptuous to make his attraction known, he still allowed himself the simple pleasure of basking in her porcelain-like perfection. He smiled shyly and looked away, as was his habit. Storm just smirked and asked, "You know… you're cute when you're embarrassed."
"Oh? I don't get that a lot from people."
"Well, people CAN be cruel. I don't know why you don't hate them. The way they treated you, and made you into a circus performer…"
"Ororo, I CHOSE to work in a circus. It was the only place where I found people who loved me. Human beings that accepted and loved me for who I was…"
"And how much money you could make them!"
"That too. But I still choose to love. Why do find that so strange?"
"Because I can't love like that. Not with humans." She frowned as she briefly thought about her past; her expulsion from her original family and community, run-ins with the law, and almost being killed several times before coming to the mansion. "Humans scare me… I can't love them Kurt, no matter how hard I try. No matter how much the Professor tells us to do it… I just can't."
"Ororo…", Kurt slid of the bed and walked over to the seated beauty. He knelt beside her and softly placed his hand on hers as he spoke. "Love is not something that can be explained so easily, but it is easy to express. Love is a combination of many things. It is kindness and patience… it is trust, and hope, and even faith."
"You say that because you're religious…(thinking about her experience with so-called 'holy' people)… that's something else I never had any use for."
Kurt stifled a laugh. "Fraulein, everyone has a religion. Even if they only trust in themselves, they still trust something. When I see you put yourself in danger for people you claim to fear… that is LOVE in action. Your love. There is no greater love than giving your life for your friend… like your Jean Grey has shown you all."
Ororo eyes slightly watered at the thought of Jean's sacrificial death. The team had hardly any time to mourn her before the worldwide riots struck. They had to rush from one place to another to save mutants from being lynched. It had been the most exhausting four days of her life. Kurt wasn't psychic, but he knew his African goddess was saddened at the mention of Jean Grey. He stroked her platinum white hair, and placed a soft and gentle kiss on her cheek. He was astounded by his courage to do so, but even more astonished to see that Ororo didn't turn away or frown. She just returned his friendly affection by placing a hand on his own cheek, then stood up and carefully hugged him. "Thank you Kurt… for being there for me. I don't know what I'd be doing without you?"
"It's ok, my dear… this too shall pass…" He continued stroking her hair as they embraced, neither breaking the soft hold. As Ororo let out faint and muffled sobs, raindrops began to pitter-patter against the windows. Kurt Wagner's blue tail wrapped itself around them both as he held her, rocking gently as he spoke soothingly into her ear.
-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_
The Professor watched in horror as Scott Summers convulsed violently. The primal psionic forces that were once inside Jean Grey were now tearing his prize student asunder. Piotr Rasputin had transformed into his armored Colossus form, and held the X-Men's field commander at bay. Wolverine had grabbed Cyclops' hand and had it tightly clasped against the spectacled mutant's eyes. "I can't hold him much longer Chuck! We got to do something!"
"He is right Professor", offered Colossus, "Jean's energy is killing this man. If he cuts loose with a blast, he'll kill us all!"
"And half the state!" Wolverine barked. The old mutant read the file on Scott Summers a while back. Concussive force beams, no known power source… and absolutely no known limit. If this guy ever got pissed off, he could decapitate a mountain. How do you stop a guy who'll kill you as soon as he looks at you? He was finally beginning to understand Cyclops' need to be in control of his emotions all the time. With a little effort, and some carelessness, he could overcome his ruby quartz lenses and unleash torrents of death upon the world. "Chuck… make him stop this. Jean's inside of him, and it's tearing him up! He can't take having two people up there!"
"I KNOW THAT LOGAN!" Even the Professor was surprised at how he raised his voice at the gruff mutant. "Our mental sessions were a psychic band-aid, to help him suppress Jean's psyche and keep it from mixing with his own. But those barriers are failing… probably because of Jean's powers."
"Gentlemen", Colossus said as he strained to keep Cyclops' hand over his eyes. The beams were beginning to surpass the Russian mutant's strength levels. Wolverine shot a worried look at Charles Xavier, who understood the gravity of the situation: if those beams break free, they are all dead.
It took Xavier several seconds of inner debating before his mind was made up. He knew what had to be done, and he did not like it one bit. In order to save his favorite student's life, and indeed their own, he would have to grant life to another – perhaps undeserving – person. Charles Xavier began to concentrate on Scott Summer's raging maniacal psyche. He quickly grieved over the damage that holding Jean's telepathic mind was doing to the man. He also marveled at the level of defiance Scott's mind displayed. Even under psychic emotional battering, his mind was still fighting to keep Jean's mind mixed with his own. A small tear escaped Xavier's eye as he had to literally rip Jean's psyche from Cyclops' mental grasp. The younger mutant let out a anguished moan as his body suddenly stopped fighting and slumped against Colossus and Wolverine.
It was Logan who clamped an awkward hug on the man, as Cyclops' grief ridden sobs grew louder and louder. "She's gone… she's gone… she's gone…" is all the brown-haired man could say – accepting the finality of Jean's departure. Having her inside him blunted the reality of the situation: that his Jean was never going to walk in and make it all better – like only SHE could do.
Had all the mutant men not been fixated on their Fearless leader's moment of weakness… they would have noticed the body on the exam table begin to stir. Colossus looked wide-eyed on the former corpse-like female, as she jerked gently at first, and then violently shuddered against the bed. Even Logan and Scott looked up to see the commotion, and were momentarily stunned into silence. The white-clad mutant woman began to shiver and twitch - her eyeballs moving rapidly underneath her eyelids. Her buxom chest began heaving forcefully, as ragged breaths gave way to deep ones. Her mouth finally opened and she gasped for air, taking in as much as she could with each inhalation. Then… she suddenly gripped the sides of the bed, and sat up with a striking velocity... her eyes simultaneously opening as she let out the most inhuman shriek ever heard by anyone in the room.
The other mutants were stunned into sheer bewilderment – all except the Professor, who fully understood what was happening. One mind was fitting together and assimilating the broken pieces of another. Neither was 100% percent complete, but the dominant one was calling the shots and helping rearrange the jigsaw puzzle that was left of the other. Memories were being supplanted and replaced, fragments were being melded, personalities were being blended…
Emma Grace Frost focused on the men around her, slowly scanning the room, and meeting their eyes in turn. Her huge blue eyes fixed on the hidden crimson eyes of the man in front of her. As he stepped forward, she looked at him with a sudden familiarity, and happiness, and joy… and… something else. Her face seemed to morph into another woman's favorite expression, something like recognition, but much more… deeper.
In a voice she barely recognized, she asked softly, "Scott?"
Author's Note: What will Ororo think? And what about Magneto? All these questions and more will be answered on the upcoming chapter.