Leigh's Fanfiction Archive Stormkeeper's Fanfiction Freedom Chapter 16

Freedom

By Stormkeeper

Chapter 16

A shuttle stealthily traversed the galaxy. With its reinforced cloaking device, it was invisible to all known technology. Tiny and swift, the vessel of retribution warped about.

A new blip appeared on the monitor. Marrow had been sitting in her seat, munching on dinner. Psylocke was sitting at a terminal, engrossed in a computer game. "Hey, look at this," Marrow said, breaking the thick silence. The two women lived in such close quarters that they went through periods of time in mutually agreed upon silence. The shuttle---which was their home now--- was the size of most studio apartments and both wanted to minimize the number of arguments they engaged in.

"Is it an FOH ship?" Psylocke wondered out loud, punching a few buttons on her computer to bring up the image.

"Not sure right now. It's going at warp 3. We should be close enough to tell what it is in a few hours. We got several days before we catch up to it though."

Betsy rubbed her palms together and smiled. "I hope it's Fuckers on Heroin. I can't wait!"

Marrow returned her smile. "Neither can I."

I have such wonderful friends and I'm lucky to be in such an amazing family. I think that's what it boils down to. Without the others, I'm sure I would've gone nuts.

Within a 48 hour time span, I was approached by Hank, the Professor, Storm, Rogue, Gambit, and Dani Moonstar. And even Nightcrawler, whom I hadn't considered myself all that close to. With all the craziness happening on board the ship with 126 camp survivors to tend to and everyone stressed to the hilt, all of these people asked me if I need to talk and offered their advice. All asked me to come talk to them whenever I felt bad, no matter how busy they were. Heck, even Wolverine made a point to go up to me after a Danger Room session that I botched and ask something like, "You okay?"

Hank suggested I be patient with Jean-Paul, reminding me that these things take time. The Professor told me a bit about working with torture victims----both what he was doing now with the camp survivors and years ago, the work he did when he was in his twenties. "Each survivor reacts differently to torture. Some recover relatively quickly. Others take weeks or months before they feel like or act like themselves again."

"But Jean-Paul has survived torture before!" I protested. "He survived it before and the torture he went through last time lasted for weeks, not a day or two!"

"The duration of the torture is not such a significant factor, in general, in determining how quickly the victim recovers."

"But he's got such a good….support system! He has me and Jeanne-Marie fawning over him, and Hank and Shaman checking in on him all the time, as busy as they are. Yet he just lays there, he's angry and grumpy every time I go to him. He doesn't want to talk about what happened or say a word about anything to me. He never even bothers to reply when I tell him that I love him." My voice cracked and arms flailed as I spoke. The Professor---and all the others I listed above---got to see the dark, angsty side of me. And I didn't care one bit, I was so miserable.

"I know you are very upset about this, Bobby. But try to put yourself in Northstar's mindset for a while. Try to empathize with how he must be feeling now."

Hearing the Professor say that, it was eerie. I remembered, years ago, giving similar advice to Gambit after Rogue had been tortured. He was distraught like I was. And it took a while for Rogue to get back to being herself. Like, several months. I think maybe Gambit has more patience and mental fortitude than I.

"Do you think our relationship will survive?" I asked the Professor. I was pouring my heart out to him and desperate for him to say something more reassuring. " I want it to go back to how it was before."

"Relationships grow and change, Bobby. It might never be quite how it was before. It might perhaps be even better someday."

I knew that that the Professor and others gave sage advice. All of it made sense and was logical. But my heart still sank when I'd enter Jean-Paul's room and he'd barely acknowledge my existence. Or on the rare occasions when he'd join the group for dinner, looking haggard, hardly eating anything and speaking to no one other than Jeanne-Marie.

I was jealous of Jeanne-Marie. Bitterly, angrily, almost violently jealous. I never was jealous of her before, at least not like this. Jean-Paul didn't shut her out as he did me. They spent time together. I don't know what they discussed or how they behaved together since they didn't include me. I just had the glimpses I saw the few times they ate meals with the group.

And Hank and the others reminded me that Jean-Paul and Jeanne-Marie are twins, they have a special bond, they love each other dearly and they have known each other their entire lives. Yeah, it was logical but it didn't make me feel any better either.

Back on An'zhina, Scott and Jean sat facing Jubilee late one evening. The couple had been in this position several weeks before. Back then, Jubilee had bounded into their room, ecstatic, as she had just experienced her first kiss.

Now Jubilee cried as she paced the room, alternating between despair and anger. "But how could he??" she was asking. "And how could she?"

Scott looked at Jean. She knew he was at a loss for words. Jean herself was grasping for something that could help Jubilee feel better. "It's good that you're letting it all out," Jean said quietly. "Don't hold it in."

"Like I ever hold anything in! Jean, he dumped me! Lisman dumped me. And for Siryn! How could she just come in and do that??"

As Jubilee vented, Scott looked nervously around the room. Both Charlotte and Christopher were asleep and he hoped Jubilee would not wake them. Especially Christopher, who had a tendency to wake up three -- or sometimes more – times per night. "There are other fish in the sea," Scott said. "You'll find someone else."

Jean winced a bit. She knew Scott meant well but didn't think his words would be particularly helpful.

"I don't want someone else! It's Lisman I want."

It had all been going so well. Jubilee and Lisman spent time together usually every day. They took walks, holding hands. Had their meals together. Lisman brought her flowers several times. They danced together during Agata's salsa lessons, and others commented on how close they appeared. Jubilee's daughter liked Lisman and he was sweet on her too, oftentimes playing games with her. His ease with the child appeared natural. Jubilee and Lisman also would retreat to one of their rooms to kiss and hold each other---sometimes engaging in what older people fondly called "heavy petting."

But then Banshee's daughter Siryn set her eyes on Lisman. She moved in and Jubilee ended up dumped like a hot potato for the beautiful blonde woman who was just a couple years younger than she.

"I mean, what was it all about then??" Jubilee was saying. "Was he just kidding when he told me how much I meant to him??" Or, she silently added, how beautiful I am? "How could he just drop me for Siryn like that?? I don't know who I'm more pissed at----him or her!"

With that last burst, Christopher had indeed woken from his slumber. Jean and Scott exchanged a look, and Scott rose from the sofa to tend to the baby. "Relationships are never easy," Jean said. "Sometimes you have to kiss a few frogs before you find a prince. But regardless, relationships take work and sometimes you do get your heart broken."

"Oh yeah, like what would you know of that??

Jean smiled tolerantly. "Jubilee, you know I dated other guys before Scott."

"What? You did?!" Scott called from the other end of the room, feigning shock.

Jean rolled her eyes, knowing Scott truly was pretending to be upset. "When you have a mindlink with someone, you can't deceive them about anything. Still, you----"

"When am I going to find someone I to have a mindlink with?"" Jubilee cried out, in despair. How could it be? There were so many happy couples among the X-men and Jubilee was left alone. Why didn't she deserve the same happiness? She then fleetingly thought of what Wolverine might say---something along the lines of, Life ain't fair.' Jean and Scott continued to do their best to console their young friend that evening. Eventually, Jubilee said she had to get going. "I'd better go check on Aurora. She's been waking up a few times after I put her down in the evenings lately. And heaven knows she's still not interested in using the potty so I probably am gonna have another diaper to change!"

As Jubilee walked back to her room, she realized she had not exactly been truthful in describing her feelings for Lisman. She liked Lisman a lot. She loved the attention he showered on her and loved that he said she was beautiful. He was handsome and sort of charming, in a shy/quiet sort of way. But during their entire relationship---brief as it was----she had not felt the connection that she had with, say, Wolverine or Storm or Bobby. It wasn't the same type of bonding, though Jubilee had fervently hoped it would grow into that.

Well, so much for that,' she sighed to herself.

After Jubilee had left the room, Scott turned to Jean and said, "Lisman had better hope that Wolverine doesn't get his hands on him."

An exhausted Gambit returned to his quarters, rubbing his sore shoulder. He soon flopped down onto the bed, glad that another tiring day was over. Bridge duty, supervising mutants, breaking up fights among people, getting in a few hours of training, trying to console Bobby a bit, and even being sought out to provide a listening ear to a few of the rescuees. And then the fight with Wolverine. All of this wouldn't be so bad if he and Rogue were on speaking terms.

Their big fight had been yesterday. After Gambit had finished his bridge duty shift, he'd gone to the rec room. Rogue had been there, but when she saw him, she got up to leave. By the time Gambit had retired to their room that night, Rogue was already asleep. When he woke up, she'd already gotten up and started her day.

And then today, they had barely passed each other at all. At lunch, Rogue appeared engrossed in a conversation with Nightcrawler and didn't give Remy a passing glance --- which raised a few eyebrows among the other X-men.

Gambit was repetitively shuffling his deck of cards and debating whether or not to make the first move towards a reconciliation when the door slid aside and Rogue entered their quarters. At the sight of her, Gambit sat up.

"I miss you, Remy."

Gambit was glad that she'd spoken first. Her voice was back to spun sugar. He exhaled and felt faith filling him. They were going to patch things up after all. They always did. "I miss you too, chere."

"I suppose we gotta talk bout this," she said softly, moving close to the bed and seating herself in a chair.

"Not unless we wanna go on ignoring each other. Chere, Gambit been t'inkin'. I totally understan' why you mad at Mark. I wanna hit him too for what he did. But Gambit don't know the right way to fix dis. Beatin' the crap outta him ain't gonna solve anyt'ing dough."

"It never does," Rogue admitted. "Well, cept for temporarily makin' me feel better." She took a deep breath. "But I was so mad. Here he is, walkin' around free while all the women his former buddies banged up are just about goin' hog wild on us." Although many of the rescued mutants were indeed making progress due to the help of the X-men, several of the women had, it appeared, already gone over the brink of madness. Some had been in that camp for over a year. Many of them now lay in beds in sick bay motionless or walked about the ship like zombies. Others ranted and raved incoherently. Many of them wasted away, refusing to eat --- while others drowned their sorrows in heaps of food. All of the X-men were stressed to the hilt, trying to rehabilitate these mutants. And although the male rescuees had not been sexually assaulted, many of them had severely damaged psyches as well.

"We all so stressed and tired, chere. None of us X-men ever thought we be spendin' our lives as counselors takin' care of dese mutants. I understand what you did. Gambit sometimes feel dat way. Like he'd love to make a lot of FOH soldiers feel all de pain dey caused others."

Rogue nodded. "And fightin' feels good. I needed to pick a fight that day. Or two."

"Gambit knows what you mean. Wolverine an' I had a knock down fight today," he admitted. Every now and then, he felt the urge to beat someone up. Wolverine looked as if his day had been equally miserable and the two men had fought.

"You did?" For the first time during their conversation, Rogue took a deep look at her husband in the dim light. She stepped closer to the bed and noticed a bruise. "I didn't see that before," she said guiltily. "Are you okay, Remy?"

Gambit shrugged. "Gambit be alright. The hairy guy an' me had it out wit' each other. We both jus' feelin' the stress and needed someone to fight wit'. We did it for old times' sake. It be okay dough. We friends again now."

"But look at this wound---you're hurt." Rogue fussed over him for a while, tending his wounds, helping him remove his boots, fluffing his pillows. When Gambit was more comfortable, Rogue sat next to him on the bed and placed her arms around him.

"Well, Remy, what do you think we should do bout Mark?"

"I dunno, chere. Maybe we should ask the Professor. Maybe dere be some way Mark can make up for what he did." Gambit's head spun. He was too tired to think about it. On earth, criminals sometimes performed community service as penance. The trouble was with An'zhina being self-cleaning, there was not much in the way of maintenance work to be done. Practically all of the boring "grunt" work got taken care of by itself.

"Poor Professor," Rogue said, tilting her head back and thinking of her beloved foster father. "He looks so tired. He got bags under his eyes now like I swear he never had before."

"The Professor ain't no spring chicken anymore. None of us are. Gambit be t'inking that if we back on earth, old One-Eye would be celebratin' 40 soon."

"Really?" Rogue asked. She thought about it and nodded, "Yeah, I guess that seems bout right. That big party we had when he was 35 seems eons ago." She shuddered, thinking how far away their years on earth now were. Almost as if a lifetime had passed. "We gotta tease Cyke when we get back. You know how he loves to be teased. Specially by you."

The couple giggled, glad to have something to smile over. They talked together a bit more, hugging and holding each other until they slowly made love. Gambit mused that this was the best part of a fight---making up.

Rogue's memory kept returning to the old days, how it was when they used to make love before she had mastered her powers, and before they'd used inhibitor collars. They had engineered a latex body suit for Rogue. Gambit used to touch her and lick her through the material, and they used to put lube between her breasts or thighs for him to thrust between. Every once in a while, Gambit and Rogue bandied about the idea of paying homage to the old days and making love as they used to. Rogue reminded herself to bring it up sometime. It's just that now that they had this, it was impossible to give up.

Afterwards, they cuddled up together, each thinking how fulfilling it was to have the other in their arms once more. The previous night, with each flung on their own side of the bed, had been tough.

"Hey, Remy?" she began quietly.

"Hmmmmm?" he asked.

"When you wanna have children?"

"Gambit t'ink he'd like to have you all to himself a little while longer."

"How much longer?"

"Why you ask? You want em now, chere?"

"Not right now. But soon. Maybe in a year or so."

There was silence for a moment as Gambit thought. "Okay. Gambit can go wit' dat."

Rogue sensed some hesitancy in his voice and decide to probe a bit. "Were you thinkin' of waitin' longer, sugar?"

"Gambit had been t'inking maybe a bit longer den dat. A baby be nice, chere, but you see how it changed Scott and Jean's lives. An' Jubilee's. Gambit likes some lazy time alone with his chere….like right now. Not havin' to worry bout a baby cryin.' Once you have the li'l ones, you can't go back." He paused. "You know, we wouldn't be able to do dis like we do now….whenever we want."

"All we gotta do is get em on a schedule. That's what Jean says. Get the kids on a schedule – won't be as spontaneous as we're used to but we can adapt."

"True, chere. True."

"What if we were to wait a year and then start tryin' to have kids? It might take a while for me to get pregnant. And by the time the baby comes, we'll have had more time to ourselves."

"Dat sounds good. You like dat plan, chere? Dat sound good to you and not be too far in de future?"

She snuggled closer to him and answered honestly, "Yes."

At dinner the next day, Rogue had her antenna up. She hadn't forgotten her conversation with Storm a couple days ago. The Wind Rider clearly was upset about something. Yes, Storm hid it well but Rogue was becoming more and more adept at interpreting her friend's facial expressions----minimalist as they sometimes were. Even a person as controlled as Storm gave out small clues by way of body language. At first, Rogue had been thinking it was the rape that Storm was disturbed about. As far as Rogue knew, Storm still had elected not to speak about it with anyone.

Rogue leaned forward in her seat and continued to observe as people munched and talked away. She was fascinated. Ever since they'd liberated the camp, Rogue had had so much on her mind----all the rescued mutants to tend to and then the altercation with Remy. She was now finally able to turn her attention back towards her friend ---- and she watched.

Storm was glancing at Wolverine and then subtly glancing at Sara Grey. Storm then looked down at her plate. Over the course of the meal, she did this more than once and she spoke little. Although Storm's facial expression remained placid, Rogue saw something in Storm's eyes. A hint of pain. Well-masked, but pain nonetheless. It had to be. Back on An'zhina, Storm had finally admitted to Rogue that she was in love with Wolverine.

Of course. Wolverine had the hots for Sara. That's what was making Storm so sad. Rogue blinked. It was so obvious now, the way Wolverine was looking at Sara. It was the same way he looked at Jean. Even the times they spoke, she could hear his voice soften a bit----the usual gruffness somehow lessened when he addressed Sara.

Rogue took another bite of her baked potato and wondered why Wolverine might be so interested in Sara. She wasn't a Jean-clone. Sara was pretty but she wasn't quite the stunner that her older sister was. In addition to her dazzling beauty, Jean had a way of filling up a room with light and gentle warmth. She had an alluring combination of strength and womanliness. Sara just wasn't that radiant. Even her hair was more of a dull auburn as opposed to Jean's shimmering red. Sara's eyes were smaller, deeper set, and not as sparkling. But there was a similarity between the two sisters---in their movements, their voices, and even the inflections they used on some words.

Rogue clenched her fist. Wolverine needed a bucket of cold water dumped on his head. The idiot. She loved him like a brother, but he could be such a shit. I oughtta grab him by the neck and beat some sense into him,' she thought. He's got a great woman in Storm.'

Later on that evening, Rogue pursued Storm but Storm told her she had a group she was counseling that evening followed by late night/early morning bridge duty. Any discussion would have to wait.

One day, the Professor and Storm sat together in a meeting room. The two leaders discussed various administrative items that needed to be settled----none of them major. They were approximately halfway through their journey back to An'zhina and everyone looked forward to reaching their new home.

"Storm, there is one other thing I wanted to discuss with you," the Professor was saying.

"Yes, Charles?"

"Do you think we as a team are in need of some healing once again? Perhaps something along the lines of another healing ceremony, as Shaman did for us so long ago. I think we need it for two different reasons. The first being that everyone on board this ship is so tired and under stress. I feel their weariness of both body and spirit." The Professor paused. Storm was silently taking in his words. "And secondly, because of our experience as captives of FOH once again. Colossus was killed. You were assaulted. Northstar was as well. Any attack like this weakens the team, hurts our psyches. It needs to be addressed."

It was so degrading, Storm thought, to have been raped in front of the team. True, they had all turned their backs but they could hear everything. She also imagined it had been fairly degrading for Northstar (and Bobby) to be verbally gay-bashed, hearing the vile anti-gay taunts, in front of the others. Storm liked keeping her memories of that experience shunted towards the back of her mind and had no wish to dwell on them or bring them out once more.

There was something else too. This time, Storm had been the only one of the women raped; she had been singled out. That horrible five-letter word that everyone tried to banish kept rearing its ugly head. Shame.

Yet still, at the same time, she understood the wisdom of the Professor's idea. Storm knew it because she said similar things to the women she counseled every day: you cannot ignore what has happened; we need to heal and move on; trying to forget about it will not work in the long run. I would be a hypocrite to refuse the Professor's idea, as much as I dislike it.' Then a thought came into her own mind.

"I think some healing is in order," she said. "But I think it would be best if we do this after Colossus's funeral. Mourn the dead first and then try to heal from the trauma."

"I agree, Storm."

After another long and busy day, Wolverine returned to his quarters and prepared for bed. He stripped his clothes off and settled underneath the covers.

Possessing enhanced senses had its drawbacks, Wolverine noted as he tried to sleep but was woken up by voices. His room was a few doors down from Northstar's and he heard the man arguing with his lover. Or perhaps former lover, from the way things sounded----not that Logan kept tabs on other people's relationships or had any interest in gossip about this topic. But his super-sensitive hearing could not block out their feud, even through these sturdy walls. The two were very loud.

"You haven't had one kind word to say to me since the surgery!" Bobby was saying. Instead of conveying anger, his voice was filled with anguish and sorrow. "I've waited on you hand and foot and it's like you don't care about me at all!"

"Shut up!" Northstar said. He sounded tired and extremely angry, and he spoke louder than Bobby. "You have no idea what I've been through! None! I don't need you in here, brow-beating me for being upset!"

"I'm not trying to do that. I've been trying to help! But you act like you can't stand the sight of me."

"Why should I? You don't really care about me, you selfish little shit! You're just upset because you're not getting all the attention you're used to. And you're embarrassed about our relationship, oui?!"

"Yeah, right, I'm embarrassed," Bobby said, his voice filled with bitter sarcasm. "That's why I asked you to dance at Rogue and Gambit's wedding. That's why I hold your hand in public all the time! I'm embarrassed."

Wolverine made a conscious effort to tune them out. Still, it was hard to hear Bobby so distressed. He liked the guy, even though Bobby had nearly trembled in his boots with fear around Wolverine at first when he had re-joined the X-men. And then there had been that crush Bobby used to have on him. Oh well. It wasn't his fault and it hadn't really bothered Wolverine that much as long as he didn't dwell on it. Once Northstar had stepped back into the picture, Bobby's crush had disappeared. But Logan had to respect Bobby for some of the things he did---like taking that karate class with him and the improvement he'd seen in Bobby's skills since he had rejoined the team. It was a bummer to hear the guy so distraught and his boyfriend being such a jerk.

Well, I got my own problems,' Wolverine muttered to himself before falling asleep.

I was on bridge duty. I hated it now more than ever. Since we now only had one person on the bridge at a time, I sat there alone with no one to talk to and only my thoughts, worrying about Jean-Paul and whether he'd ever be well again or if we'd ever be a couple again. I couldn't concentrate on any of the computer games I played.

Suddenly, I was jolted from my thoughts. A blip appeared on the radar screen and a corresponding sound from the computer alerted me to the presence of an FOH ship. As per our standard procedure, I put Freedom on yellow alert. The Professor, Storm, Rogue and Nightcrawler entered the bridge within minutes.

We had encountered this before. The uncloaked FOH ship continued on its way, apparently oblivious to our presence. As the distance between our ships lessened, the Professor said he was able to scan some of the minds on board the FOH ship. "Hundreds of soldiers," he was saying. "They are unaware of us." He continued to, I presume, search their minds and after a little bit added, . "They are on a standard mapping mission and are-----" The Professor stopped abruptly.

"Professor?" Storm asked.

"Psylocke and Marrow are nearby," he said low.

I looked down at my terminal and quickly ran some advanced scans. "I don't see anything," I said. "But of course they're gonna be cloaked," I added clumsily. Duh.

"They have every intention of repeating what they did to the crew of the Fitzpatrick."

We all exchanged nervous looks with each other. If Psylocke and Marrow had a repeat performance, it would mean grisly deaths for the hundreds of FOH soldiers on board that ship.

"We must speak with them," Nightcrawler said. "We must convince them that what they plan to do is wrong."

I saw Rogue shrug. "We could ask or tell them not to, but you really think they're gonna listen? They seemed pretty hell-bent on revenge. I don't think there's much we can say to em to try to change their minds."

"We must at least try," Nightcrawler insisted.

Storm said, "I tend to agree with Rogue. The chances of them abiding by our request are slim."

The Professor made the decision. "Let's not be so negative and assume they will not listen. Let's invite them on board this ship and have a dialog with them."

"And what if they refuse?" Storm asked. "Do we then forcibly prevent them from carrying out their plans?"

Some more discussion followed, but I decided to be a bum and not take part in any of it. Hell, I sure didn't have the right answer and all I thought about was Jean-Paul.

The Professor then made telepathic contact with Psylocke and Marrow. He invited them to come aboard and talk. He told us that they refused.

"Now what?" Rogue asked.

"Professor, you are certain that they plan to torture and kill the Friends of Humanity on board that ship, yes?" Nightcrawler asked.

The Professor nodded. "Psylocke just confirmed it with me."

"Then we must stop them. Let us use the tractor beam and reel them in but we cannot allow them to kill," Nightcrawler insisted.

I've known the Professor for many years now and I can generally read the expressions on his face. He usually is fairly resolute – not at all small-minded but he generally displays confidence and knows what the "right" course of action is. At least the right course for him. During our days on the Paradise Planet, when we debated helping the natives, I saw a bit of that resolve waiver though he stuck to his guns. This time, however, the Professor really looked as if he was not sure what to do.

"We could do as you say, Kurt, and forcibly restrain Psylocke and Marrow," Storm said. "But that scenario creates problems of its own. How long do we force them to stay aboard Freedom when they clearly don't want to be here? Do we do it indefinitely? Are we to be their jailers? That would be ironic, given that they freed us from certain death at the hands of FOH."

"Storm's right," Rogue said. "And let's say we do become their jailers, at least for a bit. What's to keep em from going after FOH the minute we let em out of our grasp? I don't think we oughtta force them aboard here if they don't wanna be here. And especially not after they rescued us."

"But if we do nothing, we will be allowing them to destroy innocent life!" Nightcrawler said.

"FOH ain't so innocent, sugar."

"Are you suggesting that we allow them to do this??"

"Let me put it this way. The thought of a few FOH bastards gettin' what they deserve don't bother me all that much."

Nightcrawler looked shocked but Rogue didn't seem a bit rueful. The two of them and Storm then looked in the direction of the Professor. "What should we do, Professor?" Storm asked.

I saw the Professor quickly remove the hint of doubt on his face. "I would recommend this. We give them one more chance to turn away from their plans. If they do not agree to it----and I doubt they will----we then bring them aboard this ship and give them the option to turn away from pursuit of the FOH ship or be forcibly restrained from attacking them. Bring Psylocke and Marrow back on board Freedom will give us another chance to talk with them. Maybe we can change their minds about their violent plans."

"And maybe pigs will fly," Rogue muttered under her breath, but I heard her well----as I have to imagine the Professor did too.

Within less than an hour, many of the X-men were sitting in a conference room with Psylocke and Marrow on board Freedom. "I cannot believe you X-men would stoop to this," Psylocke said, her voice low, arms crossed in front of her chest. "Roping us in with the tractor beam as if you're an FOH vessel hunting down two stray mutants. I just can't believe it," she repeated, looking coldly upon the face of her former teacher.

"And we saved your asses!" Marrow exclaimed, throwing her arms up in the air. "If it wasn't for us, you would've been torn to pieces by that Smith maniac. Slowly and painfully."

"We risked our lives to get you out of there and this is how you repay it? By kidnapping us!"

"All we ask," the Professor began, "is that you listen to us."

"I know what you're going to say, Charles, and you've said it to me a million times," Betsy remarked dully. "Killing is wrong, it is wrong to hurt other people, we have to live in peace, turn the other cheek, blah blah blah."

"Except when it's X-men killing the FOH soldiers who tortured them," Marrow grumbled after Psylocke had said Killing is wrong.'

"Betsy, Marrow," Storm began, "we feel as if we failed you. I know the Professor worked long and hard with you, Betsy. And he would have liked to work with you too, Marrow. He wants----we want----for both of you to get better. To recover from your ordeals."

"You're acting like we're mentally ill, Storm," Marrow said, irritated, facing down coldly the woman she secretly still admired. "We're not. All over earth, men are brutalizing women---mutant women----and no one ever pays them back for it. We do."

"Our response is the only sane one," Psylocke added.

"But you both are feeling so much pain and anger. Work with us and let us help you through it," Storm insisted. She noticed that the Professor was deferring to her for the time being, perhaps knowing that Psylocke and Marrow would react more favorably to another woman.

"Yeah, I am angry," Marrow said. "Killing FOH scum is the best healing in the world."

"Way better than sitting down in front of someone and bearing my soul to them and hearing them sputter platitudes at me for a few hours each day," Psylocke said. Having mutant powers similar to Charles's, she knew her comment succeeded in wounding him.

"Marrow, when I hear you talk about killing FOH scum', you sound eerily similar to the Friends of Humanity, talking about us," the Professor said. "I find that disturbing. Don't you?"

"No. This is war, Chuck. I wish Magneto were still alive so we could fight it properly. But since we can't, we're using some guerrilla tactics," Marrow replied. "And getting revenge."

"The FOH soldiers who you're out to kill," Storm began, after an awkward pause, "have families and loved ones. Even though they have done terrible things, they are human beings like us."

"Yeah, human beings who've spent their lives killing and raping mutants! The bleeding heart argument ain't workin' on me, Storm."

Angel was sitting a few seats down from Psylocke. He had debated with himself whether to attend this meeting. Despite everything, he still loved Betsy. He had been working sporadically with the Professor on his depression, and Warren had finally started to feel better with a new outlook lately. He knew that seeing Betsy again would hurt, and it did. The pain was so great now that he did not mind if he would appear a fool in front of the group. "Betsy," Warren began quietly, "I miss you. I love you dearly. Please come back to me. We'll work together. We'll help you get better."

"Sorry, Warren. Not interested," Betsy replied flatly.

Embarrassed though not surprised, Warren was silent for the remainder of the meeting.

The X-men and their two former members continued on in this vein for quite some time, neither side making any headway with the other. Finally, Psylocke said, "Look, you're wasting our time and we're wasting yours. What are you gonna do now? Keep us here? Throw us in the brig? Or let us go on our way?" She asked the question partly because she had sensed that the X-men were not all certain what they were going to do next.

"We will not keep you here against your will," the Professor said. He gave them the resolution that he and Storm had agreed to before the meeting. "But we will not allow you to attack that FOH vessel out there either. If you try to attack it, we will stop you."

"You stupid, son-of-a----" Marrow began.

Psylocke cut her off. "It's okay, Marrow. So they prevent us from attacking this FOH ship in this parsac. The FOH have a fleet of over three dozen and the X-men can't be everywhere all the time. We just go back into space and hunt down another one. They're all over the place." She turned to the Professor. "You couldn't stop us unless you had a fleet of your own. And I'm willing to wager that you don't really want to spend your lives policing us."

Soon afterwards, the meeting was concluded. Psylocke and Marrow were allowed to leave in their shuttle, and the Professor monitored them to ensure they did not attack the nearby FOH vessel. But he knew Psylocke's words were right. The X-men simply could not monitor Psylocke and Marrow all the time, everywhere. Soon they would even be out of telepathic range. The torturing and killing of more FOH soldiers would continue.

Once again,' Charles thought, I am compromising and failing.'

"Panda, I feel terribly guilty," Beast was saying.

The couple sat together in their quarters, eating dinner by candlelight. They had spread out a table cloth and their food onto the floor, and set two candles burning.

"Hank, please. You've been working 12 to 16 hours every day. You know you haven't been getting enough sleep. While you're taking care of the health of others, you also need to tend to yourself. Taking the time out to eat dinner is nothing to feel guilty over."

"My dear Jessica. Wise beyond her years."

Panda smiled. "Sheesh, you make it sound like I'm in high school or something! Our age gap doesn't bother me. Now come on and enjoy this dinner. This is the first meal you've not eaten standing in sick bay since we rescued the people, right?"

"No, this is the second such meal. I did ingest one lunch sitting down at a table three days ago."

"I stand corrected. Now let's enjoy this meal. And when we're done, if you want, I'll brush out your fur."

"I will gladly do the same for you, as well, my love." Hank reached for his drink and took a sip. He was really looking forward to receiving a thorough brushing. It would be so soothing. "This was a remarkable idea. I—I wish we had more time to spend together but I know you must understand that our work prevents that."

She reached for one of his hands and touched it. "I've missed you too, Hank."

They went on to talk. With Hank, there was never a need for "small talk." He told her about the guilt he felt at getting captured, and Colossus's death. "It could as easily have been I who was killed, instead of Peter," Hank mused. "They selected him at random, I believe."

Panda had her share of guilty feelings as well. She had been on the bridge during the fiasco. "Was it my newness, my ineptitude?" she wondered.

The two lovers consoled each other. Each reassured the other, helping to ease away the feelings of blame. This was the first time that they had made time to discuss this in depth and the unloading process was immensely relieving for both.

Panda then blurted out what she had been wanting to ask for weeks, and what was making her feel much more nervous than she looked. "How would you feel about getting married?"

Hank slowly lowered the glass back down. His eyes widened. "Oh my stars and garters," he murmured. "I would love to."

Panda smiled. She'd known in her heart that this would be his reply, but the illogical fear had risen up inside of her anyway. Now she felt that nervousness dissipate into delicious relief. The relief faded, though, when she realized that she was finished with only half of the difficult part. "You look surprised."

"I am. I---" Hank searched for words, faltering. "Why did I never think to ask this myself? I am perplexed. I should have asked for your hand in marriage long, long ago." he asked, as much to himself as to her. He truly was bewildered. Of course they should be married. He truly was puzzled as to why he had not thought of proposing.

Panda clarified it for him. "Oh, maybe because you spent the last several months working on cloaking devices, trying to find a cure for AIDS, and providing medical care to 120 people with some serious injuries. It's okay. I understand how busy you---we---are. But I want you to be my husband."

"I would be honored to be that, my love." Hank's head swam. "I cannot believe how my life has changed," he mused as he reached again for his drink. "It is so different—and so much better—than I used to dream it would ever be. I never considered that I might be married someday." Hank then went on to quote, "The joys of marriage are heaven on earth/ Life's paradise/The soul's quiet song of concord/ Early immortality.' John Ford, 1630."

"I'm pregnant," Panda blurted out.

Hank dropped the glass. "What??" he asked. His reply was uncharacteristic for him, but he now was astonished. The wine from the glass spilt onto the tablecloth and the floor. First a marriage proposal and now this! Unbelievable.

"I'm pregnant," she repeated, managing a smile.

"But….my stars and garters….how could this have occurred?" Hank breathed.

"The usual way," Panda quipped, attempting a half-smile. She then turned serious, matching his mood. "Hank, I'm sorry. The days we were held captive, obviously I couldn't take my pills. And when we got back on Freedom….I know I missed a few pills. Part of it was the chaos with having so many people on board to take care of. I know someone as….disciplined and accurate as you would never have forgotten. But I did. I really just forgot. I'm sorry."

As Hank accepted the shock, he saw that Panda clearly was chagrined, fearing she had let him down by her lapse. He moved quickly to reassure her. "Panda, I am not in the least bit upset with you. We all overlook things such as this, at times. Given what we have been through, it is completely understandable." He reached for and held her hands. "Besides, the fault is equally mine---I should have inquired as to whether you were still taking them. I assumed you-----well, what does it matter? No sense in assigning blame."

"But I do feel bad. I know if I were as brilliant as you, my love, I would not have forgotten."

"Panda, please. You are as brilliant as I. The pity is we have no university on An'zhina where you can receive even more education. Don't ever put yourself down."

"How do you feel about it though? Do you want to keep this baby? Are you upset?" He did not appear upset, but Panda still worried.

Hank could not answer for a moment, stumbling still on her first question. Then he said, "Truthfully, I do not know how I feel due to the fact that I feel nothing but shock now. What are your feelings in regards to this?"

"Well, I am happy," she said guardedly. "I wanted to become a parent. You know from what we've talked about that I wanted to have kids with you. This is quite a bit earlier than I would've liked, though." Like, she added silently, five years earlier. "But I'm okay with that. I really am."

"Then I, too, am happy. Let us marry and have this child. Panda, I am so happy that I do not think I even realize it!"

The pair then forgot about dinner and made love joyously for the remainder of the evening. Long gone was the awkwardness of their first few times. They now coupled together easily and effortlessly, each knowing the other's particular likes and pleasures.

Chapter 15

Chapter 17