Leigh's Fanfiction Archive Stormkeeper's Fanfiction Freedom Chapter 21
Freedom
By Stormkeeper
Chapter 21
Scott Summers was packing his belongings into a suitcase. Like most of the X-men, he no longer had many personal possessions. Most of the packing he and Jean would need to finish would consist of their children's items---clothing, toys, books, and the like. Most of the X-men had their re-replicated uniforms, a few changes of clothing, and whatever additional personal items they replicated. They owned little else.
Realizing his meager belongings would easily fill one suitcase with room to spare, Scott found himself longing for something he frequently missed----the mansion back on earth. Treasures such as love letters he and Jean had exchanged throughout their relationship and priceless photographs of his family were gone forever since the mansion had been destroyed by FOH. For a long while after their capture and subsequent freedom from the FOH, most of the X-men had been just glad that they were alive and together. For some, such as Scott, it was only now that literally years had passed that he realized all he truly had lost. Not to mention all the memories that the mansion had contained. It's okay,' he heard Jean's voice in his head---not through their mindlink but he heard it just because he knew what she would say. We are safe and healthy and we're all together. We can also mourn for those other things because they did mean something to us, while we still count our blessings.'
Scott packed a warm pair of slippers, realizing he would need them as Freedom could get quite chilly, especially since saving dilithium was a continual goal. Just as he placed them inside the suitcase, he heard the chirp of his communicator sound.
"Cyclops here."
"Cyclops," the commanding, confident voice on the other end spoke, "it is Gandrida." Gandrida was one of Queen Marina's advisor-assistants. It took Scott a second to register who she was; it had been quite some time since he'd heard from Marina and longer still since he'd had any contact with Gandrida.
"Gandrida. Hello," Scott said awkwardly.
"Queen Marina would like to meet with you, via our video conferencing, in two hours. Are you available then?"
As usual, with Marina it was more of an imperative then a command. Scott knew he didn't really have an option of refusing. "Jean and I will be there," he said, his heart sinking. He knew why Marina wanted to see him.
"Good. Just punch in channel three in your vidcam," Gandrida said, referencing the television-like device each citizen of An'zhina had been given for their room.
Two hours later, Scott and Jean sat facing Queen Marina's image on the screen. "It is good to see you again," the smiling queen said.
Scott and Jean both exchanged pleasantries with the regent. Marina inquired about their children, and the two X-men in turn asked Marina how her son was faring in school. Jean was glad that Marina wasn't a telepath for she sensed that Marina had no idea how much the two disliked this or how uncomfortable her presence made them.
"Well, I'm sure you know why I have contacted you," Marina said, matter-of-factly once they were finished with the polite talk. "Scott, I wanted to see if you had changed your mind about the request I made of you."
The gall!' Scott thought. Each time Marina made her "request", Scott was appalled at how simply the queen would relay it, as if she were asking to borrow a cup of sugar. Scott and Jean had looked up information about Endaria and learned that Endarians had a different attitude towards monogamy. But still! Can't she learn to respect our ways??' Scott forced himself to calm down.
"I am very flattered by your request," Cyclops replied, glad that his visor blocked one of the most expressive features from the purview of others. "But as Jean and I have said before, we are monogamous and I cannot break my marriage vows."
"This is so disappointing. I am only asking for one evening with you. I am not asking that you dissolve your relationship with Jean."
"Queen Marina, I unders------"
"After all I have given you and your people----this moon, virtually unlimited use of the replicators, lending you a starship when you needed one to rescue your people. Scott, I am very disappointed."
Jean squeezed one of Scott's hands, using their mindlink to tell him he'd been doing a good job staying calm and reminding him to keep his cool, no matter how furious he might feel. "I'm sorry that you're disappointed, Queen Marina. But the only answer to this request can be no.' There is no way I would ever break my marriage vows. Nothing in the galaxy could make me do that."
Jean spoke up, "You know, Queen Marina, there are several single men on An'zhina, and I know several of them wish they had….a lover. Perhaps you might find one of them to your liking." Jean spoke the truth about there being numerous single men. Given that almost all of the women on that moon were survivors of sexual torture at the hands of FOH, many of them still did not wish to date or experience relationships. More males on An'zhina than females were seeking a mate.
"But there is only one Scott Summers," Marina said. He was really the only one she wanted that she could not have. Given that she was Queen, she had no want of lovers. But never in her life had she met someone quite like Cyclops. To Marina, he was the perfect man. She could think of nothing about him that she would change----except his answer to her request, of course.
"Well," Marina sighed, "all I can say is that next time you need another favor of me, you cannot expect my help. Especially considering all I have already given you."
That was the end of the conversation. Jean devoted the rest of her afternoon to trying to help her husband out of the bad mood these requests inevitably put him into.
We X-men packed our belongings aboard Freedom and headed off for our next mission to earth. By my calculations, it would be our fifth mission from An'zhina to earth, and the first in which Cyclops and Jean Grey were taking part. It was also the first without Professor Xavier, I noticed. The others X-men on this mission were Storm, Wolverine, Jubilee, Gambit, Rogue, Beast, Panda, Northstar, Nightcrawler, Shaman (his wife and daughter were again staying behind), Aurora, Cannonball, Moonstar, and Wraith. And me, of course. In addition to the three young children coming with (I was so thrilled that Rory and the others would be with us since they're so much fun), there was one other person on board Freedom---the former FOH soldier named Mark.
The announcement that Mark would be coming with caused quite a stir. It was discussed a lot during meals and training sessions leading up to take-off. Me, I didn't have a major problem with it since there wasn't really anything Mark could do to jeopardize our safety, and the Professor and Jean said he wouldn't try anything anyway. I just didn't get it, though. I thought it was real nice that Mark wanted to help but I kinda wondered whether this was the best way. (Though if it meant one less bridge duty session during "nighttime", then that would be very cool.) Basically I felt that if our leaders were okay with it then I was okay with it too.
It would be a little weird without the Professor, though. Before we left, he said he wanted to see each of us, one on one.
Along with the Professor, Banshee and Moira remaining on An'zhina, Angel was also taking a pass on the mission so he could be with Sara Grey. I can't say I'd miss him too much, but I didn't have any ill-will towards him and was glad he'd (apparently) found love. He had been depressed since things went wrong with Betsy and he looked much better when he stood with his arm around Sara by the clearing where Freedom had parked, to bid us farewell. I kinda wondered, though, whether Warren had an obsessive personality. He spent years obsessed with getting at Apocalypse, and after that he became obsessed with his love for Pyslocke. (I mean, I wasn't in the X-men at that time, but I've heard all about it.) And now that the relationship with Psylocke fell apart, it seemed he devoted all his energy to Sara. Before that, when I knew him like fifteen years ago during my first stint in the X-men, he'd seemed quite devoted to his material possessions and acquiring as many things as possible. I was sure that now we had no money, he "needed" a relationship to pour himself into.
I bet Wolverine hated him though, since everyone knew he wanted Sara. Maybe it was also partly for his own safety that Warren decided to remain on An'zhina. I couldn't blame him and was sure glad I never had to worry about Wolverine and I having the same love interest. Wolverine is not someone I'd want mad at me.
A few hours after take-off, Storm sat on the bridge as the vessel warped through space towards earth. Meanwhile, several of the X-men gathered in the mess hall for dinner.
"Whether it be replicated on An'zhina or replicated on dis ship, it all taste the same to me," Gambit proclaimed, taking in a forkful of sausage.
"What are you whinin' about, Cajun?" Wolverine asked. "You want it spicier, you just press a few buttons."
"Still ain't the same, mon ami." Gambit shook his head and repeated, "Still ain't the same. The best food we had all dese years been the food the natives on the Paradise Planet gave us and stuff from Bobby's gardens."
"Why thank you," Bobby said, glad for the compliment. As always, when on An'zhina he maintained both the garden there and the one on the ship. Now that they were in space, he would have to hope those back on the moon would maintain the garden well as he devoted his attention to the one on the ship. Jean gladly volunteered to assist.
"The food the natives gave us on the Paradise Planet was incredible," Jubilee enthused. "It was so full of taste, you know? Even though it was simple stuff like apples and beans. I like the replicated stuff just fine but somehow that food had more…flavors. I wish Aurora could've tasted it. Though the veggies from your garden are great too," she hastened to add, looking at Bobby. Jubilee then wiped her daughter's face with a napkin. The toddler was doing well with eating finger-foods but needed assistance in keeping her meals off her face.
Bobby smiled again at the praise and the conversation died down for a bit as the hungry X-men ate.
"So, did y'all meet with the Professor before we left?" Rogue asked. "I gotta ask what he said to each of you---I'm itchin' to hear bout it." The day before the X-men were to depart, Professor Xavier requested a one-on-one meeting with each one of them. It had been a curious and unexpected request to many, but everyone of course obliged. Rogue dearly wanted to know what sort of exchange the others had had with the Professor. Sitting around the table that day were Gambit, Wolverine, Bobby, Jubilee, Nightcrawler and Cannonball ---and Rogue eagerly looked at their faces, hoping they would share what they had been told by their mentor.
"You asked the question, you go first," Jubilee smiled, nudging Rogue.
"Okay, sugar," she said, shrugging. "Xavier got awful mushy on me and said he was glad for all the progress I made as an X-man, and as a leader. Said he was right glad to see me resolving my past and bein' able to touch others. He asked me how I felt---which I thought was curious; why didn't he just read my mind? He said I seemed much happier than I was years ago, and I said he was right."
"How cool!" Bobby said. He then went on the relay his conversation with Xavier. "He said some similar stuff to me. Like, he said I'd improved a lot and that I was a real valuable member of the team, and he appreciated all the work I'd done. He said he was proud of me. He also asked me how I felt. Um, it was real mushy but it was also very nice and I almost got tears in my eyes." Bobby was still glowing from the encounter. His own parents had seldom offered any praise or had a kind word for Bobby.
"The Professor asked me how I liked being an X-man," Cannonball piped up, "what I thought of the team so far, how I thought my training was going----stuff like that. He also said he was glad that I wanted to be an X-man, to train as one. It was real nice."
Jubilee said, "He was totally praising me too. Just like saying that I was strong, a great member of the team, and training well. And he said he it looked like I was doing a great job balancing being an X-man with being a mom. He said he was proud of me and everything I'd done over the years with the team. That sort of stuff."
"Same here," Wolverine muttered.
"Except the bit about being a great mom," Bobby added, hoping for a giggle. Wolverine shot him a nasty look and Bobby nearly recoiled.
Nightcrawler and Gambit added that the Professor had given them similar-type blessings. Rogue listened intently. "I just wonder why he did that, you know?" she asked. "It ain't like he never praises us, but he usually doesn't go on and on like that."
"Dat is a good question," Gambit said. "Last time Gambit remember the Professor givin' us blessings like dat was right before he almost died," he said, referring to an incident long in the X-men's pasts. He stated the words without thinking, but then looked around at the other faces at the table.
"You don't think he's…" Jubilee began.
"It can't be," Cannonball said. "He looks in great shape to me. Well, a little tired maybe. But he seems well. How old is he, anyway?"
Nightcrawler said, "I believe he's in his sixties now. Early sixties, I think."
"Dat sounds 'bout right," Gambit added.
Rogue reached for her communicator on impulse and called Hank. "Hey, Beast," she began, "can you tell me when the Professor last had a check-up with you. Just curious."
Hank replied that it had been "approximately 6-8 months ago, though I can check the logs to get an accurate time period."
"No need to, sugar. Thanks." She turned her communicator off.
Wolverine shook his head. "You're overreacting, darlin'. The Professor ain't sick. He got emotional at Hank and Panda's wedding and he's been in that kind of mood. Don't go making a mountain out of a molehill."
Wolverine spoke with finality, but Rogue was not convinced.
The X-men had been in space for a handful of days. One afternoon, Northstar arrived in the mess hall for lunch after having just finished his bridge duty shift. He noted Bobby sitting at a table with Mark. As it was later than the time that most ate lunch, they were the only people in the dining area. Bobby looked up, saw Northstar, and smiled.
Northstar reached for a tray and walked over to a replicator to punch in his selection. As he had hundreds of times, he silently thanked the heavens for the fact that he once again had two working arms. It had been a nightmare when FOH soldiers had chopped off an arm. Once he had his freedom from them, learning to maneuver without a limb that he'd taken for granted all his life had been difficult and more painful than he'd ever dreamed. He silently thanked Queen Marina once more, and was glad he'd had the audacity to make the request. It had angered Cyclops and the others. Oh well,' Northstar thought. If it had been him or Jean without an arm, Cyclops wouldn't have hesitated to ask the good Queen.'
Receiving his lunch selections from the replicator, Jean-Paul piled them onto his tray and sat down next to Bobby. "Thank you for waiting for me, mon amour," he said, affectionately tousling Bobby's hair.
"I saved you some of the salad from the ship's garden," Bobby said.
"You are good to me, indeed," Jean-Paul smiled. As he put his napkin on his lap, he tried to get a handle on his joy. It was obvious that Bobby adored him. He knew that from the first time they got together, months ago, when Bobby had been on bridge duty and Northstar had entered the bridge to talk and get to know him better. No, Jean-Paul had known it even before then. Even as the three surviving members of Alpha Flight had disembarked from their shuttle in Freedom's shuttle bay and he'd seen Bobby smiling at him, offering to take his bags. Even back then, Bobby had eyed him with a hint of awe. The love had grown exponentially since then, it was evident in the way Bobby touched him, spoke to him, looked at him.
Am I worthy of all this love?' Northstar wondered for a moment. Because, despite his occasionally arrogant demeanor, deep down he felt like this and truly wondered what he had done to deserve such love. He also tried to get a handle on his own emotions. He loved Bobby…yes, without a doubt it was love he felt for him. But, subconsciously or not, Northstar fought to keep it contained. He had already lost every other human being who had meant anything to him, save his sister. He loved Bobby but tried to be controlled about it too, not letting it spill over to that adoration, that near worship, that Bobby felt. At the same time, he would not hurt Bobby, would not let him be disappointed. He let Bobby know that he loved him; Northstar didn't conceal his love or hold back at all. Northstar was not the most controlled person in terms of his actions but he could reign in his heart and he struggled to do it every day.
Northstar glanced at Mark. Bobby had mentioned not long ago that he wanted to get to know Mark a little better and make him feel welcome, so this must be why they'd ended up at lunch together this day.
"How long have you been gardening?" Mark asked Bobby.
"Oh, I'd say about 7 or 8 years now," Bobby replied.
"What got you in to it?"
Bobby grinned. "Well, the real reason was that I wanted to get a boyfriend. There aren't a lot of guys who can cook or garden, and I wanted a boyfriend, so I thought this could be a big plus in my favor."
Mark returned Bobby's smile. "Did it work? Did you meet any guys?"
"Well, I got him, don't I?" Bobby said flippantly, gesturing at Northstar.
"Are you together because of his cooking and gardening skills?" Mark asked Northstar, maintaining Bobby's lightheartedness in his voice.
Bobby jumped in before Northstar could answer, "No, it's my sense of humor---right, Jean-Paul?"
Northstar laughed. "Actually, you could say that I love you despite your sense of humor," he chuckled. Northstar noted that Mark appeared relatively at ease---both sitting with these two gay men and discussing this subject. That was always important for gay people to know---who was friend and who was foe? Who was comfortable sitting down and discussing things that were important to your life and who was not? Unlike good old Cyclops,' Northstar ruminated, who practically stiffens with terror if the discussion tiptoes anywhere near our sexual orientation.'
"How long have you been together?" Mark asked, scoring another point in both Northstar and Bobby's minds.
Northstar and Bobby looked at each other. "I'm not sure," Northstar said. "It is so difficult to keep track of time in space, you know."
Bobby tilted his head back. "Well, let's see….it was during our second mission back to earth and Jean was pregnant with Christopher at the time." He found it easiest to note time by the children's ages, since the parents were fastidious with keeping track of that. "I am thinking she was about 6 months along at that time. And when I was playing with Chris and Char earlier today in the rec room, Jean said Chris was 5 months old now. So perhaps about 8 months, if I'm adding this up correctly."
The conversation continued on, Jean-Paul hanging back and just enjoying watching Bobby interact with this other person. Some might say that Bobby was ordinary, but not so to Northstar. Bobby might not turn heads in a crowd but there was something about him. He had a kind heart and a very sweet down-to-earth manner. Bobby was handsome, too in a more cute way than anything else.
Northstar continued to listen to the conversation, fervently wishing it would soon end and Mark would go about his business. He suddenly wanted Bobby very, very much. They hadn't made love for two days now----neither had been in the mood two nights ago, and last night Bobby had wanted it but Northstar was tired. Jean-Paul ardently hoped Bobby didn't have bridge duty anytime soon….no, he remembered that Bobby had mentioned earlier in the day that his shift was after dinner. He suddenly had an idea on how to get Bobby in the mood very quickly.
As soon as Mark had finished eating and said goodbye to the two men, Northstar turned to Bobby and put a hand on his boyfriend's thigh. "Do you want to wrestle?" he asked. He saw the look on Bobby's face, he knew that his voice alone--his accent--- was a turn-on for Bobby.
"Yes!" Bobby replied, his eyes lighting up. They didn't wrestle too often, but they always had great sex afterwards. As they were alone in the cafeteria, Bobby reached for him and they kissed deeply. The two men both scrambled off to the room that they now shared.
Moments later, the bed had been handily propped against a wall, the minimal furniture also pushed aside, and a large mat with a plastic-y covering occupied most of the floor. Northstar and Bobby stripped off their clothing and covered their bodies with oil. Jean-Paul took a quick look at Bobby's groin and found his lover stiffening already.
They then began their "wrestling." The slick oil allowed them to easily slide in and out of each other's grasps and they did so for several minutes. Just as Northstar thought he had Bobby, Bobby glided away. Neither would use his powers, and Jean-Paul was naturally just a bit stronger. He knew he would win; he had won every other match they had, though they both also knew Bobby loved to lose. Part of the fun, though, was in the struggle and in the visual delights this provided them both.
Northstar reached again for Bobby, and this time pined him onto his back. He reached down and covered Bobby's mouth with his own, lapping his tongue against Bobby's. Bobby moaned, too aroused now to put up any more pretense of a fight. Jean-Paul grasped Bobby, his body glistening now both with sweat and the oil, and turned him over his knee. He reached for Bobby's delectable rear end and gently spanked it a few times. Bobby practically squealed with pleasure. "Seems I win again, oui?" Northstar asked.
"You win," Bobby murmured. He barely attempted to conceal his excitement.
"Let's see….what should I have you do first?" Northstar asked, his heart beating faster with anticipation. He rose, and beckoned Bobby to kneel in front of him. Bobby scrambled into position, losing his balance for a bit on the slick floor. Once in place, he reached for the half-hardened cock he was presented with and took it between his lips. He sucked it with passion and verve, using his tongue well, so clearly enjoying every second of it, just as much as Northstar was. "Si bon," Northstar murmured, getting harder and harder. "Ah oui….Bobby, you so good at this."
When Northstar felt the time was right, he tapped Bobby's head and asked him to stop. Bobby then scrambled to his feet, handily returning the bed to its usual place. He then knelt on the edge of the bed and thrust his bottom upwards. "Not yet, amour," Northstar said, patting Bobby's rear. "I want a little taste, too." Jean-Paul knelt in front of the bed as Bobby repositioned himself, sitting on the edge. Jean-Paul gave him head, tonguing his cock and savoring the pre cum that spilt forth. After a few moments, though, Bobby moaned and Jean-Paul knew it was a moan partially of lust but mostly of impatience. He released Bobby's cock and stood up.
"I love you, mon coeuer," Northstar said, and reached down to kiss Bobby's lips again, tasting himself on Bobby's mouth.
"I love you too," Bobby said and Northstar was again taken aback by just how much the man in his arms meant those words. He then gestured for Bobby to turn around. "On your hands and knees, amour," he directed. "I am going to fill you up with my cum."
Jean-Paul reached in the nightstand for extra lube and for a condom as Bobby assumed the position. He took a few moments to prepare Bobby, using his fingers and tongue. "Now, Jean-Paul! Fuck me!" Bobby begged.
Jean-Paul smiled at Bobby's impatience and unwrapped the condom. He then knelt behind Bobby, slowly pushing his way inside his lover. It felt like coming home, he mused as he loved the tightness that wrapped around his pulsing cock. Being inside Bobby again felt so good. Of course, both would've preferred to nix the condom. They never had to use them in the past, but after the assault on Jean-Paul, condoms became necessary. The fit wasn't quite as perfect as either would've liked, but they had to accept it.
The two thrust together, Jean-Paul whispering how good it felt, how much he loved it. "So good, si bon…oh yes," he gasped. He moved so that his strokes hit Bobby's prostate, knowing how much that made Bobby tingle, and he was rewarded with just the right set of cries, letting him know he was on target. Bobby seemed to love nothing more than writhing around on all fours as Jean-Paul moved inside of him. Mere seconds after he reached one hand around to pump Bobby, Bobby came all over the bedsheets.
Northstar continued his motions, thrusting harder and faster. He loved the sight of Bobby's slick back and buttocks, shining from the oil, as he moved in and out, thrusting and withdrawing. But he soon whispered, "I want to look into your eyes when I come." The lovers repositioned themselves, Bobby laying on his back with his legs resting on Northstar's shoulders. Northstar concentrated on the increasingly frantic motions of his hips, no longer murmuring words of pleasure, just propelling himself forward again and again with mindless pleasure. With a groan of triumph, Northstar came as he looked at his lover's adoring face.
Afterwards, Bobby wanted to lay back and snuggle, but Northstar was stripping the bed of its covers. They had found that they needed to wash them right away to remove tenacious oil stains. Northstar fastidiously showered, dressed himself, brought the bedclothes to the washing area where machines would take over, and then returned to their room. He preferred to have everything in order before lounging around. Bobby had already re-dressed the bed and was again laying on it, waiting for Northstar.
"It's not bedtime, mon amour," Jean-Paul said.
"I know. But let's cuddle some," Bobby suggested. "Since we don't smoke, we need to do something after sex, right?" He hadn't dressed yet, just thrown on a pair of boxers. Jean-Paul obligingly reclined against the headboards with him, taking Bobby into his arms.
"Ah! You still have some oil on you," Jean-Paul recoiled from him, not wanting his uniform to be stained.
"I thought I washed most of it off. Sorry." Bobby poked at the tiny smudge on Northstar's uniform. "Nothing that won't come off. Just relax a bit," he said, his voice becoming mellow. Northstar again obligingly took Bobby into his arms. "Mmmm, that feels nice," Bobby murmured. "Damn, that was so good today."
"I know," Northstar said. He knew Bobby was upset that Northstar hadn't returned to his arms immediately after their lovemaking, but Northstar hated the thought of relaxing while greasy oil stains were soiling the bedclothes. Only now could he really enjoy the contentment that followed sex.
"You're by far the best I ever had."
"As you are mine, amour," he replied, relaxing and venturing into a more playful mood. The two chattered for a bit, talking about nothing in particular, and Northstar asked, "So tell me, Bobby. What other guys here you think are attractive?"
"Wolverine, of course."
"Why Wolverine?" Jean-Paul wondering, never having been able to fathom why so many drooled over him.
"He's a big slab of hunky beefcake." Bobby actually said the words matter-of-factly and with a straight face.
"What?? A big slab of hunky beefcake?'" he echoed, laughing at the terms. "And this ---from a vegetarian, no less! But he is the polar opposite of me."
"No he's not—you're both strong and muscular. Forceful personalities too. Well, physically Wolverine has a rugged look and you are my beautiful storybook elf."
"'Hunky beefcake' and 'storybook elves'----Robere, I sound like I'm stuck in a bad romance novel! But no thank you on Wolverine---I don't want all that hair all over me," he said, flicking at some imaginary substance on his smooth chest. Jean-Paul liked his own hair-free chest. Bobby had sparse hair on his chest, which Jean-Paul didn't mind though sometimes he wished it were smooth too.
"Who do you think's hot?"
"Gambit. Of course."
"Gambit?? But I'm nothing like him. You're more like him." Bobby exclaimed, feigning shock.
"How so?"
"Well…um, well, you're both French?"
"French?? Gambit is Cajun. And I am Quebecer!" Northstar replied in mock-horror. Years ago perhaps he truly would've been offended but now he realized how little these differences back on earth meant.
"Yeah, yeah but to an American Midwesterner, you're both French," Bobby said, smiling and knowing he hadn't really upset Jean-Paul.
"So…you think Remy LeBeau's ever gone our way before?" Northstar pronounced the name accurately and with flair.
"He's probably tried it once or twice," Bobby shrugged. "I bet there's not much he hasn't done. But I doubt he'll do it again now--- he's got eyes only for Rogue. I haven't seen him give a second glance to any other woman." Bobby said. "Or man," he added, half-jokingly.
"You know who I want to do? Cyclops. Or Angel. Either one of them, right up the rear. I'm not really that attracted to either one but both of them need to experience that."
Bobby giggled and shook his head. "I don't recommend that you proposition either of them, my love."
Light-years away from the X-men, a deadly duo encountered a starship belonging to the Friends of Humanity. The vessel was cloaked---as was theirs---but when one is as powerful a telepath as Betsy Braddock, cloaking does little to truly hide you. The shuttle, stolen from Freedom and now home of Psylocke and Marrow, soon matched warp velocity with the FOH ship.
With Marrow tensed at the ship's controls, Betsy concentrated. She scanned the minds of the 76 ship crewmembers, searching for their captain. It generally was not all that difficult to find someone who held power in FOH. They prided themselves on rank and power----those who held it kept that fact in the front of their minds at all times. And those around the powerful feared them. Fear was so easy to sense.
However, as Psylocke continued to skim the human beings on board the FOH ships, she realized with a start that about a dozen mutants lived on that ship as well. Female mutants who were being brought on this journey to be "used" by the crew. Psylocke and Marrow's mission now had an added complexity.
But that did not detract from Psylocke's concentration. She found the captain and took hold of his mind. Seeing out of his eyes now, she compelled him to command a number of different orders. His orders seemed bizarre to most of the crew but FOH soldiers were indoctrinated to obey without question. The entire crew was now gathered in a few different rooms, per their captain's instructions. On board the bridge, they accepted a beam-in of a substance which Marrow transported to them. The captain opened the substance and disbursed the stun gas throughout the rooms which held the FOH crewmen. For the few who were not immediately knocked out by the gas, Psylocke shot out psychic stun bursts, causing their systems to go into shock. The men fainted. The ship was now ready for Psylocke and Marrow, gas masks in place, to board.
"The fun begins now," Marrow said, strapping on her gas mask and preparing for transport. She could hardly wait to get her hands on the FOH soldiers. She would strip them as they had done to her, invade and lacerate their bodies as her own had been ripped apart. All the while the soldiers would be conscious, screaming in agony, some begging for mercy. Marrow's pulse pounded. Since her stay at the FOH camp, where she had endured hundred upon hundreds of rapes, enacting this torture was really the only thing that made her feel alive. Nothing else brought any pleasure to her life, she never felt the stirrings of sexual desire anymore----not that she would've had any way to relieve them as Betsy had no want of another woman at all. Marrow briefly touched her fingers to the pulse on her neck which frenetically beat. I'm alive!!!!' she thought as the sensations rushed through her.
"What do we do with the mutants they have with them?" Psylocke wondered. She was more calm than Marrow but still eager. Entering and commanding minds took intense concentration and Psylocke was temporarily fatigued.
"I say we give them a choice---join us or take our shuttle back to earth." Marrow and Psylocke had long been talking about "moving to a bigger house." They planned to take control of this FOH vessel and make it their new base. They had thought they would keep their trusty shuttle as an extra, but Psylocke liked Marrow's idea instead. If the captured mutants didn't want to join them, they had an out.
"Or we could auto-program the shuttle for An'zhina and send any who want it there," Psylocke said. "They'd be welcome there, I'm sure."
"I like it," Marrow said. "We'll give the survivors the choice---earth or An'zhina." She paused and ripped a bone from her hip, grunting with the pain. She'd been growing this particularly long and thick bone for weeks and merrily ran her fingers lightly across the jagged edges. "Enough talking! Payback time!!"
The X-men were half-way through their five week journey back to earth. The trip had been uneventful---no FOH vessels had been encountered nor had Jean sensed any. It was speculated that FOH might be routinely cloaking all of their vessels. They didn't used to but perhaps they were taking extra precautionary measures. "However, we must remember," Beast reminded the group during a meeting that Cyclops had called, "that space is exceedingly vast. It is not as if we travel on a straight line. Our sensors scan a wide area but they cannot detect everything."
"He's right," Cyclops said. "It's a good reminder for us to be on our toes at all times."
Cyclops had called the meeting to take place shortly after lunch time one day and for the purpose of "a general update." As Gambit sat around the table, he thought that it was somewhat odd to see Cyclops giving orders once more. Cyke hadn't been on any of the other missions to earth. Gambit realized he had become thoroughly accustomed to---and he liked---Storm's leadership style. Got nothin' to do wit' the fact dat me and Storm are good friends,' he thought. Well, it does a bit,' he then admitted to himself, 'but Stormy also got a great style of leadership.'
"Well, switching gears, there is one thing I'd like to announce," Cyclops then said. "I've decided to change the duration of our bridge duty shifts---from five hours to six-and-a-half hours. It will mean longer shifts, of course, but fewer shifts too."
Gambit looked around the table, his eyes settling on Storm. Although she attempted to hide it, he could tell she was surprised by this dictate. And none too happy at being surprised like this either. Gambit's eyes then turned towards his wife. Her feelings were always less well-hidden then Storm's. She crossed her arms over her chest. "We puttin' this up to a vote or are you tellin' us?" Rogue asked. She kept her voice sweet, dripping with honey and pleasant to anyone who didn't know her well, but Gambit could tell she wasn't thrilled with the way the new order had been handed down. Gambit wasn't too crazy about it either.
Cyclops spread his hands. "We certainly can vote on it if people would like."
"I think that would be a good idea," Storm said. Her voice, Gambit noted, rang out calm and steady as usual. "Since this impacts all of us, it would be nice if we had a chance to veto it or not."
"I didn't see anything wrong with the way we had it before," Wolverine grumbled.
The X-men quickly voted by a show of hands. Panda, on bridge duty at the time, spoke her vote over the communicator. By a sizable margin, the group decided to retain five hour bridge duty shifts. An embarrassed Cyclops said he had merely hoped to "make things better for the group." He then hurriedly changed the topic and the meeting soon petered out to an end.
A few hours later, Gambit was sitting by the pool, lounging around after a swim with two of his favorite people in the world---Rogue and Storm. "What de hell he be t'inkin??" Gambit asked. "If it ain't broke, don't fix it."
"I love the way he comes in and lays it down like an order," Rogue said. "For cryin' out loud, why not just ask the group which they'd prefer??" She sighed with exasperation.
Gambit turned to Storm and said. "I wonder if he be tryin' to establish dat he's in command here. I mean, he ain't----last time we talked about it, it was decided dat you and him will co-lead, right?"
Storm nodded. Gambit continued, "Well, maybe he's wantin' to be number one again."
Storm looked down at her hands. She had not had an easy past few months and this certainly did not help matters. "That decision—that Cyclops and I would co-lead----was made years ago, on earth." As she said the words, she realized how very long ago that truly had been. "Before that, he led the group for a long time by himself. It is easy to fall back into old patterns of behavior." She sighed. "I do not wish to blow this out of proportion. We X-men have been through so much together that it seems petty to squabble over something like this." She paused. "But perhaps it could grow to something more. Maybe I should have a talk with him."
"It ain't like you be tryin' to horde power or make yourself our only leader," Gambit said. "Maybe you approach him like you wanna be gettin' clarification on somet'ing."
Storm nodded. "Perhaps I will do so," she said, sounding distant. "I wish we were back on An'zhina where we could be sunbathing by the sea instead of in a gym."
With that, Storm signaled her desire to end that conversation. Gambit got up to bring the group some more replicated drinks, and he speculated on the possible results of a Storm-Cyclops clash. Not that he wished to see it happen. Storm was right; the X-men had been through so much together, they were a family. They didn't need conflicts over leadership or internal power struggles. But at the same time….it was not inconceivable that this could happen either.
If it came to that, Gambit wondered, who would support who? He mentally ran down the list of X-men, thinking first of those who would be likely to back Storm. He and Rogue would unquestionably support Storm. Bobby probably would too----Gambit and he had once discussed preferring Storm's leadership style over Cyclops's. In all probability, if Bobby went with Storm, so would Northstar and Aurora. Gambit knew Northstar didn't care for Cyclops at all, and he assumed Northstar's sister would have a similar opinion. Jubilee would go with Storm, Gambit speculated----Jubes seemed to look up to her quite a bit. Though she also admired Jean….but Gambit knew Jubilee would prefer a leader who allowed rules to be bent. Dani Moonstar would also favor Storm; Gambit thought she adulated the Wind Rider. And despite his feelings for Jean and whatever had happened between him and Storm, Wolverine would endorse Storm as well. Though they had been getting along pretty well the past few years, his dislike of Cyclops's management style was strong enough, and Gambit knew Wolverine way preferred Storm's type of leadership.
Angel would go with Cyclops, Gambit ruminated, continuing on down his mental list of X-men. The two seemed to get along well enough, and he thought he'd detected a mild mutual dislike between Angel and Storm. And, of course, Jean Grey went without saying. Gambit had a strong feeling that Banshee and Moira were likely to back Cyke as well, though he couldn't say exactly why. Dey more traditional,' he realized. And Scott be pretty traditional.' Angel, Banshee and Moira were all back on An'zhina now though.
The rest of the X-men, Gambit decided, were unknowns. He wasn't sure how Beast, Panda, Nightcrawler, Cannonball or Wraith would decide to vote if it ever came to that. However, he thought enough of them might support Storm to keep the balance in her favor.
No, Cyke,' Gambit thought. If you be tryin' any power plays now, it's too late. You don't have enough people behind you.'
Whatever the case, Xavier likely wouldn't let it come to something like this. He would encourage them to find ways to work together and continue to function as a team without this divisiveness. If he still around,' Gambit speculated. He then chased that disturbing thought out of his mind. Rogue had been overreacting the other day. There was nothing wrong with Xavier; there couldn't have been. 'Besides, if Xavier be sick, he would've told us,' Gambit decided. He ended that train of thought there.
I was playing cards with Rogue and Gambit one day in the rec room when I was witness to an argument. I don't know about most people, but me I'd rather not be around when a couple is fighting. It really ruined the fun, though both of them had already been kicking my butt at our poker game anyway. (I could never remember which was higher, a straight or a flush or three of a kind or a full house, and it kept giving my position away when I had to ask.)
We were chattering away about nothing in particular. During much of the game, Jean and Scott had been in the rec room with us, playing with Charlotte and Christopher in the section that was used as a play area for the kids. The children's nap time soon came upon us, and Jean and Scott left with their kids.
"Say, do you guys know how Storm's doing?" I asked, out of the blue, once the three of us were alone in the rec room. "I figure you're closer to her and she doesn't ever really open up to me. Whenever I see her, she looks pretty bummed out."
Gambit scoffed. "Hard to say, Bobby---she don't much open up to us much either."
"But even I can tell that she's kinda down and has been down for a while. Do you guys know…is it because of what happened when we were captured by FOH? Or is it more a Wolverine thing?"
"Gambit t'ink it's Wolverine dat's botherin' her. An' I t'ink she's upset most of all 'bout the fact dat she have feelings for him and can't jus' get over it."
Rogue then spoke up. "I bet Wolverine was a great lover and she misses that. 'Course I haven't been around the block like some people so I sure wouldn't know what----"
All of a sudden, Gambit just kinda lost it. He slammed his cards down onto the table and exploded, "Dat's enough, chere! You been takin' shots at me like dis for a month now and I'm sick of it!"
I sat back stunned, not knowing why Gambit was so angry all of a sudden. I hadn't thought that Rogue really said anything out of line. And I had never seen him so angry. I got the idea that there was something else going on, something I knew nothing about.
While Gambit was riled up, Rogue remained calm. She said simply, "Wasn't takin' a shot at you, honey. Just makin' a statement, that's all."
Gambit's reply had none of Rogue's mildness. "Yeah, right. Chere, you jus' gotta get over it! Jus' get over it and deal wit' it. You actin' like I done you wrong when I treat you like a Princess!"
Rogue still kept her cool and just shrugged. "I ain't got nothing to get over, Mister. You're the one actin' like you got the problem here."
By this point, I fervently wished I was somewhere else. I practiced looking intently at my cards for a while. They continued squabbling, Gambit getting madder and madder and Rogue acting calm. I gotta say he really look like he flew off the handle, and over what I couldn't say. This was a side of Gambit I hadn't really seen before. I also heard some things that I almost wish I hadn't, such as Gambit yelling at one point, "How can you not trust Gambit when I trus' you?? You the only lady Remy ever let tie him up!" I hastily put a hand over my mouth at that point to keep from laughing, and I filed that comment away for later use.
By the end of the squabble, Rogue was sincerely imploring him to stop being so angry, but he actually got up and stomped out of the room. I'd never seen Gambit acting so unreasonable.
A moment later, Cannonball, Jubilee and Mark entered the rec room, with little Rory. Rogue got up and left.
It's hard to believe that sometimes a truly horrible occurrence can have a positive result, but I have really experienced that in my lifetime. I know that a Shaman or a Storm or the Professor would probably say something philosophical like that any time. In the past I might not have believed them but it really hit home with me now. The thought was running through my head one night as I fell asleep next to Jean-Paul.
He and I never used to share a bed before, but ever since we'd reconciled we had been doing just that. We basically shared a room too, both on An'zhina and on Freedom. In both cases the room we shared was the one that had formerly belonged just to me, and Jean-Paul still kept a few belongings in his old room. The atrocity he lived through and, more to the point, the way we handled it as a couple brought us closer together. And it sure was nice to again cuddle up with someone as I fell asleep.
My sleep used to be plagued by nightmares, especially earlier in my life. The bad dreams generally had tapered off by this point in my life, though they still returned upon occasion. One night, however, I was awoken not by my own nightmares, but by Jean-Paul's.
By the time he unconsciously woke me up, it seemed as if he'd been tossing and turning for hours. The sounds he made finally pulled me from my slumber. It wasn't the first time that he'd had a painful nightmare since we'd taken to sharing a bed----there was one other that I knew of, at least---but this one was monstrous. The sounds he was making terrified me. I made the decision to nudge him awake.
For a long, long time, we just held each other. I waited for his body to stop shaking and for him to calm down. I could tell he was just trying to compose himself and I knew he wasn't going to just fall back asleep. I think he was afraid to. When he spoke, his voice sounded rusty. He asked me to bring him a glass of water. So I got up and padded down the hall to the nearest food replicator (which actually was in sick bay….long ago, when we'd first taken over this ship, we had installed a food replicator inside the infirmary and we used to eat all our meals there too, back when Jubilee didn't leave that room and we all wanted to remain at her side. We'd never removed the food replicator from sick bay and it did come in handy at times, too.)
I returned to the room, carrying the glass of water Jean-Paul wanted and a mug of hot chocolate for myself. He was now sitting up in bed, resting against the bedboard, and I took my place at his side. I put an arm around him. "Do you want to talk?" I asked.
Jean-Paul nodded but he was silent for a long time. I knew that part of him hated this, hated being seen as so weak. It wasn't really easy for him to open up either. He gestured at my mug. "What do you have there?" he softly asked.
"Hot chocolate."
"I should have asked for that instead of water."
"Here," I said, offering it to him. "We can share."
"Merci," he murmured in French as he took the drink and sipped.
I moved my arm from around his shoulders to rub his back. "How often do you have nightmares?" I asked him. This was only the second time that his nightmares had woken me up, but for all I knew, he had them every night.
"I don't know," he said. "A lot." He handed the hot chocolate back to me and set his glass of water on the nightstand. He then scooted even closer to me and rested his head on my shoulder. "It's good that you're here and you're holding me."
Then he went silent again, and I had no desire to mutter any platitudes at him and tell him that things would get better. And I could no longer encourage him to talk to the Professor about what happened since we were now lightyears away. So I took a few sips of my hot chocolate, set the drink down, and put both my arms around Jean-Paul. He snuggled easily down into my embrace, and we both were quiet for many minutes. It was so warm and cozy that I perhaps could have fallen back asleep, but I felt the terror and the tension coursing through my lover and I wanted to be there for him. I can't say how long we remained like that except that it seemed like a while.
"It was so horrible," he whispered, out of the blue. "I was never so scared."
His tone of voice made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. My impulse was to say something like, It's over, you're free from them,' but I didn't want to close off his train of thought. And he had never really discussed with me what was done to him; I didn't know how much he'd really worked it through. "I know," I said, squeezing him tighter. "I was so scared too, thinking of what they'd do to you."
"They stuck a broomstick inside me," he said.
I shuddered. He was quiet again. I whispered, "Oh my god," because I didn't know what else to say. I mean, I can't say I was surprised to hear that, but it was terrifying and disgusting nonetheless.
"That was after they took turns raping me," he added. "I—I didn't think I would be so scared that time. Because I'd already lived through their torture once before. But I don't know, Bobby. Somehow it was all so much worse this time. I was terrified. Even during it, I was in such pain and I was terrified thinking of what might happen next. And the whole time I felt I should be worried for Jeanne-Marie and for you, but I thought only of myself."
I wasn't totally sure what he meant by that, so I answered, "You were tortured. Don't worry about what you thought of during it. You're not responsible for anything that happened. You got out of it alive and I'm just glad you survived."
"I can't believe I'm being so bad about recovering from it. I want to get up and forget about it, but I can't." He paused, and then stumbled over a few words. "And Bobby, I thought…..well last time I was tortured by FOH. I—I think I kind of forgot about it. But this second time, now it seems everything from the first time is coming back up to the surface."
"And you wish you could forget all of it," I finished for him. "Instead, you're getting hit with both memories at the same time." I suddenly was very worried. Everything the Professor had said, I reminded myself, certainly was true. Recovery wasn't necessarily a linear process, and it wouldn't be an easy one either .Jean-Paul had been acting so much like the self I fell in love with lately, but who knew what stages he might go through next?
"Yes."
"Jubilee told me that she once considered asking the Professor to erase her memory," I said. "The memory of what she lived through with FOH. But she decided against it."
"It's a tempting idea. Jeanne-Marie considered the same thing once. I did too. So why did Jubilee decide not to do it?"
"She said that living through it and working through it made her a stronger person. She said that somehow the whole experience---I mean, as awful as it was----is a part of her now and she doesn't want it erased."
Jean-Paul pulled me a bit closer. I could breathe his scent in, masked a bit by the sterile , clean smell of the replicated soap. I touched his face and gently caressed his hair with my fingertips. I loved the color, which was white or black or a mixture of both, depending on how the light hit it.
"If he was here now, I might ask him to do it," Jean-Paul said. "But I guess for now I must live with it and deal with it. You know, Bobby, I think I've never really said this but….but I thank God for you every day. I don't know what I would do without you, mon coeuer. You have been an angel. I don't tell you this enough, I know. But having your love in my life is a blessing."
"Oh, Jean-Paul," I said, my heart filling with warmth. "I love you too. I'm so glad we're together----you are a blessing in my life too."
Jean-Paul then loosened his grip on me and laughed an ironic laugh. "Of course, you know….we must make our relationship work. We're the only two gay mutants."
His comment made the warmth I felt a moment ago recede just a bit. "We would be together even if we weren't," I said. I knew it sounded slightly more defensive than it should have. But I knew that if Jean-Paul hadn't been right for me, if he and I didn't truly love each other, then we wouldn't have the bond that we had now.
"Oh, I know, I know," he said. "But it is nice that we have an extra incentive to remain together, too. We won't give up on this relationship when things get rough."
"Yeah, really," I replied. "And given what might be happening to the other gay guys on earth, we really are the only two."
Jean-Paul pulled back and turned so that he looked at me. "What do you mean about what might be happening to the others on earth?" he asked. "You mean the fact that we think FOH probably killing any gay mutants they find?"
"I, uh….well, sort of. Um, do you remember what one of the FOH soldiers taunted us with?" I hated to bring up those memories but I didn't see any other way to answer his question. "They said something about all gays being quarantined to stop the spread of AIDS. All, whether they're mutants or not," I repeated.
Jean-Paul said he didn't remember that remark. "But….do you think it might be true?" he asked, his voice aghast.
"I don't know. When we were near earth, I tried to find out from the news, but good old GenCore never tells you anything. I couldn't track down any of the underground sources. But…you think about it, think who's practically in control of every government institution. In the US, at least, and in most of the rest of the world. I wouldn't be surprised if it's true, if not in the US then probably in several other countries."
In the darkness of our room, I could see that Jean-Paul was really taken aback by this. Me and my big mouth, as if he didn't have enough on his mind. He seemed too shocked to speak for a bit. "When we get closer to earth," he finally said, "we must find out if this is true. And we must do something. They are our people."
We both then let that subject drop but we kept talking for a long while afterwards. Jean-Paul didn't speak anymore about what the soldiers did to him. I sensed maybe he wanted to stay off that topic and I had to respect that since there wouldn't be any sense in forcing him to discuss more than he wanted. So we chattered about nothing in particular since we both knew we weren't falling back asleep anytime soon.
I eventually did drift off….but woke up less than an hour later to the buzzing of the alarm which jarred me awake from my sleep. I had bridge duty early in the morning, and every muscle in my body protested as I forced myself from the bed to the shower. Jean-Paul insisted on accompanying me to the bridge and helping me remain awake, but I told him it wasn't necessary and that he should get his rest. So I headed off for the bridge with him still back in our room. But after less than a half hour into my shift, he appeared, carrying a tray pilled high with breakfast for two.
"We are nearing the end of the first trimester," Hank said to Panda one day in the infirmary. "I am truly fascinated. You still experience no nausea?"
"You might be fascinated; I'm just glad," Panda replied. "Morning sickness is the one thing I can do without. No, Hank, out of the list of things you said I might expect, the only one I feel is….um, the slight bowel irregularity. Other than that, I would hardly know that I'm pregnant, except for the fact that my little monthly visitor isn't here anymore. And that you insisted I get a pregnancy test."
"In two more weeks, we can have an amniocentesis," Hank said eagerly.
"What's this we'?" Panda jokingly asked. "I haven't seen you up on that exam table in stirrups. And I can't really say I'm looking forward to getting a needle stuck through my abs. But yes, I'm looking forward to it too, just for the reason that we can get to take a look at the little one."
Hank was smiling and too delighted to be upset by Panda's little jests. "I eagerly await the results of the amniocentesis. We can ensure that the child is progressing well."
"And find out if it's a boy or girl," Panda said. "Not that I really care one way or the other, but it would be nice to know and start picking out some names."
"I completely agree, my love."
With each passing week, Hank became more and more fascinated by Panda's pregnancy. It had been exciting enough when he had helped both Jubilee and Jean along with their pregnancies. Now his own wife (and he still could not get used to the fact that he had a wife) was pregnant, and carrying his own child. Though feeling a hint of trepidation, mostly Hank was excited at what the future would hold.
"If the baby's big and furry, I'll love him or her just the same," Panda declared.
"As will I," Hank added. He then furrowed his brow. He and Panda had discussed, many times now, the possibility that not only would their child be a mutant, but maybe one with an unconventional appearance like themselves. He had thought that they both had resolved to completely accept, and even welcome, such a child. So why would Panda reiterate that now?
"Are you experiencing some nervousness?" Hank perceptively asked. "Perhaps some worries about the appearance of the baby, that he or she might resemble us?"
Panda sighed. "It's not necessarily that, Hank. That's part of it. I think a lot of it's just general worries you have when you're pregnant. I've been talking a lot with Jean and Jubilee---I'm so glad they're both here. They're saying it's normal to worry every now and then about the health of the baby."
Hank reached for Panda's furry hand and held it. Panda continued, "It's okay," she said, giving a slight smile. "I'm not really worried a lot. Just a little. And if the baby does look like us, that will be fine. Sometimes, though, it's hard….thinking that if we ever get things on earth to really change and can settle there again, and thinking of all the pain we went through growing up. If we ever do return to earth, the child will experience that same pain."
The couple looked at each other. Once their bodies had started outwardly manifesting their mutations, during their teenage years, school had turned into a living nightmare for both of them with constant taunting from their classmates. Though both had found solace in their studies and through the support of a close friend or two, the teenage years had been excruciatingly difficult for them. Panda searched Hank's eyes, knowing that he was thinking back to exactly the sort of memories she was.
"Our child will have several advantages that we did not possess," Hank said. "We are both mutants. We can help prepare the child for reactions from people."
"Yeah," Panda said. "My family just didn't know what to do with me. I think they really wanted to help, but they were just as freaked out as everyone else was, wondering what they'd done wrong."
Hank nodded. "My family reacted similarly. However, our child will grow up surrounded by an extended family of mutants, with role models who have unusual appearances."
"Yes." She paused. "Hey, Hank…..you don't think that anyone thinks….that it's wrong for us to have children? I mean, not mutant-haters but any of the people here? You ever wonder if they're thinking that we shouldn't have kids because we might pass our particular mutations on to them?"
Hank had been an X-man for many years and he held his adoptive family in high regards. He also had a general practice of assuming the best of others. "I highly doubt it," he said. "And if they do wish to pass judgement on us…." Hank was momentarily at a loss for words, not liking that thought one bit, "…if they do, I will be willing to discuss with them at length why it is up to you and I exclusively to decide whether we want to procreate, and that this matter is not subject to debate by others!" Hank paused. He wasn't angry, though the thought disturbed him. "Panda….has anyone insinuated such with you?"
"No, no," Panda quickly said. "Not at all. I just wonder sometimes, you know?"
Panda was not being entirely truthful---she just didn't want Hank to have to hear more of this. A few days before the X-men departed on the mission, she had overheard one of the An'zhinans making a comment to the effect that she and Hank should not have children for that very reason. What made it almost worse is that the comment hadn't been made nastily….the person had calmly and simply stated that it didn't make sense for them to reproduce if the risk of them passing on their particular mutation ran high. Panda could not recall the name of the young man who had spoken, though she did recall his Brittish accent. Panda was therefore almost certain he'd been one of the mutants rescued along with Panda herself, from the X-men's first rescue mission in England.
"We cannot speculate as to the thoughts in other people's minds. We must simply assume the best of our teammates," Hank stated.
"Sounds good to me," Panda said, glad to drop the subject.
TO BE CONTINUED
Your feedback is a warm and nourishing soup for my soul. (Okay, sorry that was cheesy.) Please send it anyway to: stormkprusa.net
I know I mentioned it last time, but I really loved Lord of the Rings. The whole movie was amazing, but especially one certain elf archer.
One more thing and then I'll shut up….I know this section was kinda light on Storm-Wolverine (and Rogue-Remy), but I promise more to come. Thanks for reading. J
Chapter 20
Chapter 22