A/N ~ Thank you to everyone who wrote in reviews. I've bottled the snuggly feelings they elicited and am using them as a hot water bottle now that the frost has arrived. Oh, and just as a rather bizarre observation, they've started showing Christmas ads on TV already! Gah!
Hootild; Yup, Wanda is a bona fide nutter. Appealing, ne?
The Phantom; *Hands over elbow grease to get footprints off the walls* Glad you like Ariel. He got a bit of bad press to begin with, but he's really coming into his own, now. Thank you ^_^
Remedy=Chill; Forget Raymond, everybody loves psycho Wanda, it seems. O.o Yay, neglected characters get some luvin'! Scry, Ariel and the Jamies thank you.
Mocla; More Wanda praise! *Swells with pride* Who knew she had so many fans?
UnknownSource; Just out of curiosity, who exactly *did* you think Brian was? And you're right - poor little Ariel. The kid doesn't get cut much slack, does he? Climax on the bridge? *ignores potential double entendre of the question* Hmm, could be. But then again, might not be at all...
Krazy Xanadu; *Gasps!* A real live Brian fan? *Breaks out fanfare* Yay!
Witch-UK; Ahoy, fellow UK-person. Glad you like the fic, and a Happy Belated Birthday for the fifteenth.
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Twenty-fourth Fragment ~ Found
*******************
"What're we s'posed to call you, now?"
Rogue's question startled her mother, and she looked up from where her head had been nodding onto her chest. "Hmm?"
Rogue cocked her head to one side, appraising. "Your name. What're you gonna go by?"
"I've had a variety of epithets so far. But Momma, Mama and Mommy are the ones that've stuck, I'm glad to say."
"I don't mean like that. I mean your *real* name." Rogue gestured at the others on the bus, though they weren't listening to her. "Most folk've given up on codenames, if they went with 'em at all."
"Except you."
She tossed her head. "I like Rogue better 'n Marie. So sue me." Her expression turned vaguely sad, and she transferred her gaze out of the window. "Been a long time since I even *had* a proper name, 'stead of a number. Think I got a right to choose what it is after that. But you - you've had so many names in the past. I was jus' wonderin' how you felt about the one you got now."
"I don't follow you."
"I heard Logan talkin' to you earlier. He called you 'Raven'. Is that your given name?"
"It's the one on my birth certificate, wherever *that* is."
Rogue nodded. "But most folk still call you Mystique - your codename. I was jus' wonderin' why he was so different, is all. Thought maybe you'd told him somthin' you never told the rest of us."
She shook her head. "No, I never said anything. Truth be told, I don't know why he calls me that at all. I certainly never asked him to, and nobody else does."
"Well, maybe it's time they did."
"Excuse me?"
"Not to sound like a broken record, but the war's over. So's the life that went before it - the life that meant we *hadda* have codenames. Now we get to pick whether we want 'em or not. You talked about makin' a new start, right? Well, why keep somethin' that keeps people off who you really are?"
Todd was at her shoulder, and to her surprise, he was agreeing with his old teammate. "Rogue's right, yo. Why bother wit' a name 'at *means* deception?"
_But that's what you always called me. It's the name everyone called me when I looked like this._
"'Cause I was tole' to, Boss Lady. 'Cause they were tole' to, an' all." He leaned in closer, face clean and whole, for once. "Prolly no-one'll ask ya this question again, so ya'd best make th' most of it while it's up for grabbin'."
_You think I should change my name?_
"I think y'should do what yo' think y'should do."
"Momma?" Rogue's brow puckered, and she waved a hand in front of her mother's face.
"Raven," she said suddenly. "I'd like it if people called me Raven from now on. New beginnings and all that jazz, right?" She smiled, and for some inexplicable reason it felt like am ancient weight had been lifted from her shoulders.
"Raven," repeated Alvin from his seat, and nodded. He extracted a book and pencil, and wrote it down beside her prophecy. "Raven, the Lady Mobius."
Raven turned to better face him. "Could you... tell me my prophecy again?"
He bobbed his head, and said aloud, "Lady Mobius calls the triangle, seeks point in new dimension."
"Calls the triangle?" Rogue repeated, brows pulling together.
"You and Kurt," Raven informed her firmly. "You, he and I were family long before this trip, even though we were separated. When Logan first made me change from cat to myself, before Daisy and Robyn asked me to be their mother too, the wheels had already been set in motion for the three of us to be reunited."
"And the new dimension?"
"I think you know the answer to that one as well as me."
Rogue blinked for a second, and then nodded. "Guess so."
"Know the answer to what?" Kurt appeared on the stairs, cradling Robyn close. He nodded at the incessant whining from Clive as an explanation for his appearance, and took a seat not that far back from his sister and mother.
In Raven's arms, Daisy snuffled, and the shapeshifter held her close. Pietro, erstwhile alone on the second level, was not long in following Kurt down, and chucked the lizardine child under her chin as he passed. He slid into a window seat before the elf sat next to him.
"Answer to what?" Kurt pressed, rearranging himself so his healing injuries wouldn't be jolted too much.
Raven opened her mouth to answer, but shut it again quickly as she grabbed to keep her seat.
The bus had crested a blind hummock and squealed to a halt with such force that several of its passengers were thrown forwards, and a few unprotected chests banged against the seats in front of them. Alvin grabbed for his precious plants as they started to topple from his cart, and all those holding children tightened their arms around swaddled bundles lest they be injured by the sudden arrest.
Raven, still holding securely onto Daisy, braced her feet on the floor. "What's going on?" she demanded, face creasing into a frown.
From the driver's seat came the sound of a curse. "Oh shee-it!"
"What? What is it?" Lance stumbled to his feet and went to Logan's side; jaw dropping open as he caught sight of what had made the older mutant halt so abruptly. "Jesus H. Christ!" he murmured, tone edged with a hint of awe around his anger. "It's like... like... I don't know *what* it's like."
Kurt leaned into the aisle. "Was ist los? Lance, what's going on?"
No answer.
"Lance," Kitty chimed, adding her verbal two-penny's worth. Hope had woken, and was starting to grizzle at being jostled about so roughly. Had the elder children not been so exhausted, it was possible they would've been doing the same.
Lance snapped from his open-mouthed reverie and shook himself. "Wha - oh, yeah. It's... it's unbelievable. If I described it to you, you'd never believe me. Not in a million years."
"Excuse me?" Pietro piped up waspishly. "You're talking to people who can phase through solid objects, change their physical form and teleport, amongst other things. I think suspension of disbelief pretty much comes as standard on this trip. Now spill. Why've we stopped?"
Lance glanced back, chewing the inside of his cheek. They gazed at him expectantly, wondering what the two men could see out of the windshield that nobody else could from further back.
Kitty shifted her weight, feeling the tension descending upon them more than most and getting fidgety at the sudden sense that something was very, very wrong.
"We're almost at the Mississippi River." It was Logan who answered, and his gruff voice betrayed almost nothing.
"Already?" Raven blinked. "I didn't know we'd come so far. Not many road signs around these days."
"But surely that's a good thing?" Kitty pointed out. "It means we're getting closer to that Mutie Town place, doesn't it? I mean, weren't we gonna, like, go restock and recuperate there or something?" Though she couldn't see it, Jamie nodded.
"Kinda." Lance looked back at the road ahead.
"Kinda? What sort of answer is 'kinda'?" Pietro challenged irritably. "Speak English or clam up."
"There's a bridge across the river," said Logan, moving the unlit match in his mouth from one side of his lips to the other in a vaguely agitated movement. "From what I can see, it's pretty much intact, and looks sturdy enough to take the weight of a bus without collapsin'."
"Sounds good. So what's the hold-up?"
"There's a wall of water blockin' the bridge."
The statement was so bizarre that it took a few seconds of slotting jaws back into place and rearranging eyeballs into sockets before anybody answered.
Naturally it was Pietro who spoke first. "Whaddya mean, 'a wall of water'?"
"Exactly what I said, bub," Logan growled, and nodded out of the window. "It's a wall. Spans the whole frikkin' road from one side to the other. And it's made of water."
Pietro, sceptical as ever, despite his loose tongue, decided that this was something to be seen for himself if it was to be believed. However, Kurt was on the aisle seat, effectively blocking his exit.
Taking care not to jostle either Kurt or his charge, Pietro scrambled into a crouching position on his seat and vaulted over the row in front. No sooner had his feet touched down on the floor then he was at the front of the bus, standing next to Lance and gawking like he'd just seen a miracle come to pass. Which, in a manner of speaking, he had.
"They're right," he breathed. "It *is* a wall of water. It's like nothing I've ever seen before. Gotta be a hundred feet high, and covers all lanes. Pretty spectacular roadblock, if you ask me."
"Where on earth did it come from?" Raven asked sensibly. "What's it doing here?"
"Guess we'll find that out when we get there," said Logan, and thrust the bus into gear.
"Hold on a minute," said Lance, showing a moment of forethought and planning. "D'ya think that's a good idea? I mean, what if whoever caused that thing is still there? What if they ain't friendly?"
"You think it was a person caused this?" Pietro fixed him with a curious stare.
"You don't?" Lance shot back. "Who else but a mutant could do that without a lot of complex machinery? Lookit, it's standing up completely on its own. You can't tell me that's natural."
"I suppose..." Pietro looked at Logan. "He has a point."
In reply, Logan patted the back of his hand. "So do I. Several." He revved the engine a little, sending plumes of black out of the exhaust to billow over the trailing jeep. "Look, there ain't no other way over that there river, and we can't go back the way we came. Searchin' fer another way across that'll take our weight would take up too much time. Time," he gestured over his shoulder at the others, "that we don't have. If this thing's the work of another mutant then fine. P'raps we can recruit 'em or somethin'. If they're hostile, then I'm sure we got enough firepower between us to see ourselves aw'right."
Both Lance and Pietro cast wary glances over their motley group. Raven and Logan would probably be their best line of defence. The others' powers were nifty, and useful in different ways to their journey, but not especially battle-worthy. Those of them healthy enough to fight, that was.
In a pinch, Lance knew that his own abilities might get them out of any jam that presented itself - but he was conscious of how much superfluous damage an earthquake would cause the bridge itself, and had no desire to put everyone's lives in danger through his own actions. The briefest look at Kitty cured any notion of that stone dead.
They had to cross that river, and they had to do it soon. Neither Robyn nor Daisy were looking particularly peachy, and all of them needed a rest from constantly looking over their shoulders, watching out for the next disaster to overtake and try to destroy them. Stress was beginning to tell, as evidenced by gaunt eyes and frayed tempers. Much more time on the road without respite would only result in another outburst amongst themselves, and since the spat between Kurt and Alvin hadn't yet been remedied, another one would likely drive a wedge between the members of their party.
Division of friends was an ugly thing at the best of times, and this was definitely not the best of times.
Lance squared his jaw and adopted a commanding, decisive tone. "Okay, we move on and face whatever comes at us."
Logan nodded, and indicated that they should return to their seats before he started off again. This old crate wasn't the smoothest of starters, and there was no point in creating more injuries than necessary by throwing people down the aisle during take-off.
Pietro, however, wasn't quite so convinced, and twisted his fingers together hesitantly. "You sure this is a good idea?"
"Got any reason not to that outweighs the reasons to head that way?" Logan asked, arching a brow that told them all he knew there were none.
Pietro couldn't answer, and so sighed instead. He went back to the area he'd been sitting before, plopping back into the row preceding Kurt's so that he didn't have to make the elf move for him.
A swift poke to the shoulder instantly caught his attention, and he swivelled around to face a pair of searching golden eyes.
"You okay?" Kurt's voice was level, but his gaze was worried. Having not seen the water-wall for himself, he was relying on the opinion of his 'brother' to ensure their safety.
"Me? Yeah. Just... don't wanna take no risks, is all." Pietro gave a cheery smile and looked forward again. He kept the smirk fixed in place like a mask, refusing to give into the strange, niggly feeling that had started up in the recesses of his chest.
Something was wrong. Very wrong. He just couldn't put his finger on *what*, exactly, and there was no way he could make anyone listen to an odd feeling like that. It wove about his lungs, constricting them with something akin to trepidation, but remained elusive when he probed at it. They'd probably just say it was something he'd eaten if he voiced his sudden worry, so it was better he said nothing.
_After all, they already know I'm crazy. Or as good as,_ he thought wryly. An old phrase Rogue had used to use popped into his head. _What's the use in beating a dead horse?_
Kurt watched the back of Pietro's head as they lurched off and frowned. Whatever he said, the teleporter knew that something was amiss. He'd noticed it the moment Pietro's easy banter evaporated, and the way his movements now were jerky. He looked... worried. Slightly off-key. Like something had spooked him.
Kurt turned and looked out of the grimy window at the austere landscape zipping by. _What are we getting ourselves into now?_
*******************
Ariel twitched only once when Wanda spoke, voice cutting through the silence that had enveloped the bridge like a hot knife through butter. He didn't want to rile her any more than he had to, and so stuck to the barest minimum of movement whenever she deigned to talk, or indicate that she remembered he was there; which wasn't often, he was thankful to note.
Her words were sharp, clipped, and held a note of satisfaction that was chilling to hear. "They're coming," she said simply.
Immediately, Ariel felt her eyes upon him. He could sense her hard gaze, boring into his back. Evidently she expected some kind of answer to this, so he cleared his dry throat and asked, "How can you tell?"
Clearly the response was adequate, for she didn't incinerate him on the spot, which was always a good thing. Instead, she folded her arms agreeably across her chest and nodded at the road beyond the rushing torrent of water they'd erected.
"I can feel him. He's getting closer."
She licked her lips, tasting the salt on her skin with her questing tongue. She was excitable, and found herself hopping from foot to foot in anticipation. She couldn't really see anything except a few blurry images through the liquid wall, but she didn't need sight to tell her that Pietro and his pals were getting nearer. She could sense that strange bond all siblings share. It tightened as the distance between them grew less, like a shining cord gathering and ravelling in her hands. And she pulled at it, champing at the bit and dragging him toward her as hard as she could.
She knew that he must have been feeling some of the same pull, but didn't really consider the implications of it. It was a wonderful feeling; the expectancy of revenge. It bubbled in her gut, and her veins fairly sang with it, pulsed with the sheer joy that vengeance pumped her diseased mind full of.
Ariel cleared his throat again, breaking her reverie. "Who?"
Abruptly, the moment was broken, and she rounded on him, spitting venomously, "Shut up! Just shut up! You don't know when to be quiet, do you, Water Baby? Perhaps I should tear your tongue out to make you silent, eh?"
The scaled mutant shrank back, quailing beneath her savage gaze. Wanda's hair fairly crackled with pent up energy, and stuck out in various peaks and troughs that buzzed and fizzed like severed electricity-pylons caught in the rain. Her hair was unkempt, to say the least, since she hadn't bothered to seek out anything resembling a comb or brush since the lab. It had run wild, and served to accentuate her insane appearance with a halo of black that refused to be tamed, or even coaxed into submission.
She crept forward, and with every step her feet started to lift until she was hovering scant inches above the ground, toes dragging noisily. Ariel kept his gaze fixed on these so as to avoid her face, and fought the urge to cover his head with his hands in fear. She'd stolen a pair of shoes from somewhere, but they were odd and didn't match. On her left foot was a sneaker of gaudy red and white streaks, and on the right, a black boot with a pointed toe that laced up her calf. Had Ariel any memories of high school and the cliques therein; or even if he'd been a more philosophical type, he might've considered the ironic statement of the shoes and what they portrayed. As it was it was all he could do to keep his rebellious stomach under control, and the back of his throat gagged slightly as bile rose up in his seditious and fearful maw.
Then, all at once, Wanda stopped. Her head snapped up like a puppet on a string, and she cocked her ear to one side, like she was listening intently to something that only she could hear. Slowly, a sickening smile wormed its way across her face, and a gleeful giggle emerged yippily from her gullet.
Ariel flinched as she leaned towards him, pressing a finger to her lips and shushing vociferously. Quoting an old movie line, Wanda grinned at him, and then patted him on the head like a good little doggy.
"They're heeeere."
*******************
"Speedy."
"Yeah."
"I want a closer look at that thing."
"Be my guest. I'm not stopping you from getting out."
Logan growled. "We got any binoculars upstairs?"
"Maybe," Pietro shrugged, then caught Logan's eye in the mirror. "You, uh, want I should go look?"
"Smart kid. You do that."
Pietro slid off the bench again, and climbed the stairs to the upper deck.
{Wuff-wuff!}
"Quiet, you," he hushed the dog.
Clive eagerly followed the tall human as he pawed through piles of stuff heaped across most of the seats, stretching as far as her makeshift leash would allow. A sad little whine followed when he paid her no heed, and she coked her head woefully to one side in the manner of all baby animals that didn't understand the world around them.
"Binoculars," Pietro said as he came up with an old, battered pair. "Great."
He bounded down the stairs with his prize, thrusting them into Logan's hands as the bus paused once more. Logan snatched them and lifted them to his eyes, staring intently towards the bridge.
"Can't see a thing with all that water," he growled after a moment.
"Hold on."
A rush of air, and Pietro was back from the jeep before anyone could stop him going in the first place.
"Forge's possibly-patented water goggles. Neutralise light distortion to restore normal vision. Says so on the side." He handed them over. "I spotted them while loading the thing up before."
Logan pressed the device to his eyes, holding the binoculars against the other side. He adjusted the focus, looked intently for several moments, and then cursed inventively. "You set this up?"
"What's there?" Raven leaned out of her seat.
Logan shoved the viewing instruments against Pietro's chest. The teenager fumbled with them, glanced nervously towards his former enemy, and then looked through them towards the bridge. His pitch rose a few notches, and they could practically hear the 'thunk' as his jaw hit the floor.
"Wanda?!"
*******************
"Well," breathed Magneto over Hank's shoulder, "How does it work? What do you see?" The whirr of machinery accompanied his words, as did the soft hum that permeated all of Asteroid M's interior.
Hank smiled. "It's working like a dream," he replied. "Better than expected, in fact. All we need is the genetic code of the target, and we can detect them anywhere on Earth."
"Excellent," his friend sighed, and helped Hank remove the large and cumbersome Cerebro helmet from around his skull.
It was not, in fact, the same Cerebro Charles Xavier had once used, for that demanded some level of telepathic power. Rather, it was a slightly different version; able to pinpoint a person from their genetic signature, if one knew what it was. Erik had helped Charles design and build the original model, so there had been little problem in the initial stages, since this version simply involved combining it with a few experiments from his old lab in the Bavarian mountains. Though not a part of his mutation, Erik possessed an excellent photographic memory.
The work on Cerebro II had been hastened forward by the recent hitches Jamie had been prone to, regarding his clones down on Earth. Erik was planning to use it to pinpoint and rescue the remaining copies so they could be reabsorbed. He also planned to locate any other mutants whose genetic signatures he knew, to see if they were rescue-able. Or even still alive. Not to mention, it was an excellent way of keeping track of people down there - followers and intimate enemies alike.
It had taken many months of hard work to build, and now Erik stood, holding the bulky helmet in his hands and frowning thoughtfully.
Hank guessed what he was thinking. "Don't Erik," he advised. "It's not worth it."
"Worth what? What have I got to lose? The insecurity that drags my steps every day?"
"Erik, you know in your heart that they're dead. The probability of survival, given their respective circumstances, points to a negligible chance, no matter what your dreams may tell you. Why weigh yourself down more with the proof?"
Erik sighed, and slowly put the headset down. "Maybe you're right, Hank," he said in a long-suffering voice. "When I sleep, the things I see are so very *lucid*, but maybe - "
{WHEEE-OOOO-WHEEE-OOOO-WEEE}
The klaxon alarm sounded around the station, manmade scream echoing horribly off the steel walls.
With a wide-eyed look that verged on panic, Beast bounded out. The klaxon was only sounded in the direst of emergencies, and had never been used before outside of training sims.
Erik made as if to follow, but after a few steps along the walkway he raised his hands and magnetically sealed shut the doors to the Cerebro Chamber, locking himself in.
And Hank out.
When this was done, he reached back into the folds of his cloak and turned off the alarm-activation device he had hidden in there. It was a tiny thing, latticed with wires and ugly nodes put together in the privacy of his chambers where nobody would know about it.
Soon the scream of the alarm was replaced by the heavy thuds of Hank's fists as, realising both Erik's ploy and his intention, he tried to get back into the Chamber.
Erik ignored him and picked up the helmet, considering for a fraction of a second longer.
He had the genetic codes. He knew them like the back of his own hand. Years ago he'd used them, tweaked them, and studied them. Mutated them.
_You gave them a better chance for survival._
_I took their childhood away for my own ambition._
He would make it up to them, though. Even if they...
No, they were dead. He knew that - had to know that. Knowing that simple fact had kept him sane, as had his acceptance of it before the recurring dream that insisted otherwise. The dream of Charles, and that unending game of chess. He'd pushed it away, rebirthed his Acolytes on this Asteroid to make up for his past failures.
But somewhere, deep inside of his soul, Erik wondered. He wanted to lay his ghosts to rest - all of them. He wanted to know their fate, to finally put it all behind him. He wanted - no, *needed* to crush that debilitating hope.
He held the curved helmet in one hand, staring into the hollow eyepieces. "Alas, poor Yorik. I knew him, Horatio..."
All right, so his Shakespeare wasn't up to Hank's standard. It was amazing he'd remembered that one line, considering how often it had been misquoted.
With his free hand, Erik tapped in the codes he knew so well. With a deep breath, trying to steady himself, he then placed Cerebro II onto his head and prepared to jump into the abyss of despair.
*******************
Hank kicked and pounded at the door, working frantically to made some kind of indentation , if not bash the whole thing in. He was creating such a din it was impossible one of the others would not hear and come to investigate, but he kept it up nonetheless. Even more so when he heard the telltale hum of Cerebro II kicking into gear.
"Oh my stars and garters," he breathed, hitting the iron door harder and harder until, at last, it caved in.
But it was too late. The hum of Cerebro II had already ceased, and Erik sat, slumped in the chair, his head in his hands. Beast could see that his wide, proud shoulders were shaking, inverted and drooping as if in utter defeat.
Fear and dread filled his furry blue heart. He had known this would happen. He'd known that the truth would break Erik, would push him into the realms of despair and insanity. He had known that, from the moment he put that helmet on, all would be lost. The great man would be broken even more than his Acolytes.
Now Hank could only stand there, numb, until finally he crept slowly forward to put a large hand on Erik's shaking shoulder. "Erik," he said softly, searching for the words, "I'm... I'm so sorry, I - "
But before he could continue, Erik turned around.
To his intense surprise, Hank saw that the older man's face was not etched in grief, but split with a smile. A smile as bright and radiant as the sun after darkest night. The tears that fell from his face and the sobs that racked his body were not grief, but joy. Pure, unadulterated joy.
"Hank!" he laughed in a choked voice, "Hank, they're alive! My children are alive!"
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To Be Continued...
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Hootild; Yup, Wanda is a bona fide nutter. Appealing, ne?
The Phantom; *Hands over elbow grease to get footprints off the walls* Glad you like Ariel. He got a bit of bad press to begin with, but he's really coming into his own, now. Thank you ^_^
Remedy=Chill; Forget Raymond, everybody loves psycho Wanda, it seems. O.o Yay, neglected characters get some luvin'! Scry, Ariel and the Jamies thank you.
Mocla; More Wanda praise! *Swells with pride* Who knew she had so many fans?
UnknownSource; Just out of curiosity, who exactly *did* you think Brian was? And you're right - poor little Ariel. The kid doesn't get cut much slack, does he? Climax on the bridge? *ignores potential double entendre of the question* Hmm, could be. But then again, might not be at all...
Krazy Xanadu; *Gasps!* A real live Brian fan? *Breaks out fanfare* Yay!
Witch-UK; Ahoy, fellow UK-person. Glad you like the fic, and a Happy Belated Birthday for the fifteenth.
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Twenty-fourth Fragment ~ Found
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"What're we s'posed to call you, now?"
Rogue's question startled her mother, and she looked up from where her head had been nodding onto her chest. "Hmm?"
Rogue cocked her head to one side, appraising. "Your name. What're you gonna go by?"
"I've had a variety of epithets so far. But Momma, Mama and Mommy are the ones that've stuck, I'm glad to say."
"I don't mean like that. I mean your *real* name." Rogue gestured at the others on the bus, though they weren't listening to her. "Most folk've given up on codenames, if they went with 'em at all."
"Except you."
She tossed her head. "I like Rogue better 'n Marie. So sue me." Her expression turned vaguely sad, and she transferred her gaze out of the window. "Been a long time since I even *had* a proper name, 'stead of a number. Think I got a right to choose what it is after that. But you - you've had so many names in the past. I was jus' wonderin' how you felt about the one you got now."
"I don't follow you."
"I heard Logan talkin' to you earlier. He called you 'Raven'. Is that your given name?"
"It's the one on my birth certificate, wherever *that* is."
Rogue nodded. "But most folk still call you Mystique - your codename. I was jus' wonderin' why he was so different, is all. Thought maybe you'd told him somthin' you never told the rest of us."
She shook her head. "No, I never said anything. Truth be told, I don't know why he calls me that at all. I certainly never asked him to, and nobody else does."
"Well, maybe it's time they did."
"Excuse me?"
"Not to sound like a broken record, but the war's over. So's the life that went before it - the life that meant we *hadda* have codenames. Now we get to pick whether we want 'em or not. You talked about makin' a new start, right? Well, why keep somethin' that keeps people off who you really are?"
Todd was at her shoulder, and to her surprise, he was agreeing with his old teammate. "Rogue's right, yo. Why bother wit' a name 'at *means* deception?"
_But that's what you always called me. It's the name everyone called me when I looked like this._
"'Cause I was tole' to, Boss Lady. 'Cause they were tole' to, an' all." He leaned in closer, face clean and whole, for once. "Prolly no-one'll ask ya this question again, so ya'd best make th' most of it while it's up for grabbin'."
_You think I should change my name?_
"I think y'should do what yo' think y'should do."
"Momma?" Rogue's brow puckered, and she waved a hand in front of her mother's face.
"Raven," she said suddenly. "I'd like it if people called me Raven from now on. New beginnings and all that jazz, right?" She smiled, and for some inexplicable reason it felt like am ancient weight had been lifted from her shoulders.
"Raven," repeated Alvin from his seat, and nodded. He extracted a book and pencil, and wrote it down beside her prophecy. "Raven, the Lady Mobius."
Raven turned to better face him. "Could you... tell me my prophecy again?"
He bobbed his head, and said aloud, "Lady Mobius calls the triangle, seeks point in new dimension."
"Calls the triangle?" Rogue repeated, brows pulling together.
"You and Kurt," Raven informed her firmly. "You, he and I were family long before this trip, even though we were separated. When Logan first made me change from cat to myself, before Daisy and Robyn asked me to be their mother too, the wheels had already been set in motion for the three of us to be reunited."
"And the new dimension?"
"I think you know the answer to that one as well as me."
Rogue blinked for a second, and then nodded. "Guess so."
"Know the answer to what?" Kurt appeared on the stairs, cradling Robyn close. He nodded at the incessant whining from Clive as an explanation for his appearance, and took a seat not that far back from his sister and mother.
In Raven's arms, Daisy snuffled, and the shapeshifter held her close. Pietro, erstwhile alone on the second level, was not long in following Kurt down, and chucked the lizardine child under her chin as he passed. He slid into a window seat before the elf sat next to him.
"Answer to what?" Kurt pressed, rearranging himself so his healing injuries wouldn't be jolted too much.
Raven opened her mouth to answer, but shut it again quickly as she grabbed to keep her seat.
The bus had crested a blind hummock and squealed to a halt with such force that several of its passengers were thrown forwards, and a few unprotected chests banged against the seats in front of them. Alvin grabbed for his precious plants as they started to topple from his cart, and all those holding children tightened their arms around swaddled bundles lest they be injured by the sudden arrest.
Raven, still holding securely onto Daisy, braced her feet on the floor. "What's going on?" she demanded, face creasing into a frown.
From the driver's seat came the sound of a curse. "Oh shee-it!"
"What? What is it?" Lance stumbled to his feet and went to Logan's side; jaw dropping open as he caught sight of what had made the older mutant halt so abruptly. "Jesus H. Christ!" he murmured, tone edged with a hint of awe around his anger. "It's like... like... I don't know *what* it's like."
Kurt leaned into the aisle. "Was ist los? Lance, what's going on?"
No answer.
"Lance," Kitty chimed, adding her verbal two-penny's worth. Hope had woken, and was starting to grizzle at being jostled about so roughly. Had the elder children not been so exhausted, it was possible they would've been doing the same.
Lance snapped from his open-mouthed reverie and shook himself. "Wha - oh, yeah. It's... it's unbelievable. If I described it to you, you'd never believe me. Not in a million years."
"Excuse me?" Pietro piped up waspishly. "You're talking to people who can phase through solid objects, change their physical form and teleport, amongst other things. I think suspension of disbelief pretty much comes as standard on this trip. Now spill. Why've we stopped?"
Lance glanced back, chewing the inside of his cheek. They gazed at him expectantly, wondering what the two men could see out of the windshield that nobody else could from further back.
Kitty shifted her weight, feeling the tension descending upon them more than most and getting fidgety at the sudden sense that something was very, very wrong.
"We're almost at the Mississippi River." It was Logan who answered, and his gruff voice betrayed almost nothing.
"Already?" Raven blinked. "I didn't know we'd come so far. Not many road signs around these days."
"But surely that's a good thing?" Kitty pointed out. "It means we're getting closer to that Mutie Town place, doesn't it? I mean, weren't we gonna, like, go restock and recuperate there or something?" Though she couldn't see it, Jamie nodded.
"Kinda." Lance looked back at the road ahead.
"Kinda? What sort of answer is 'kinda'?" Pietro challenged irritably. "Speak English or clam up."
"There's a bridge across the river," said Logan, moving the unlit match in his mouth from one side of his lips to the other in a vaguely agitated movement. "From what I can see, it's pretty much intact, and looks sturdy enough to take the weight of a bus without collapsin'."
"Sounds good. So what's the hold-up?"
"There's a wall of water blockin' the bridge."
The statement was so bizarre that it took a few seconds of slotting jaws back into place and rearranging eyeballs into sockets before anybody answered.
Naturally it was Pietro who spoke first. "Whaddya mean, 'a wall of water'?"
"Exactly what I said, bub," Logan growled, and nodded out of the window. "It's a wall. Spans the whole frikkin' road from one side to the other. And it's made of water."
Pietro, sceptical as ever, despite his loose tongue, decided that this was something to be seen for himself if it was to be believed. However, Kurt was on the aisle seat, effectively blocking his exit.
Taking care not to jostle either Kurt or his charge, Pietro scrambled into a crouching position on his seat and vaulted over the row in front. No sooner had his feet touched down on the floor then he was at the front of the bus, standing next to Lance and gawking like he'd just seen a miracle come to pass. Which, in a manner of speaking, he had.
"They're right," he breathed. "It *is* a wall of water. It's like nothing I've ever seen before. Gotta be a hundred feet high, and covers all lanes. Pretty spectacular roadblock, if you ask me."
"Where on earth did it come from?" Raven asked sensibly. "What's it doing here?"
"Guess we'll find that out when we get there," said Logan, and thrust the bus into gear.
"Hold on a minute," said Lance, showing a moment of forethought and planning. "D'ya think that's a good idea? I mean, what if whoever caused that thing is still there? What if they ain't friendly?"
"You think it was a person caused this?" Pietro fixed him with a curious stare.
"You don't?" Lance shot back. "Who else but a mutant could do that without a lot of complex machinery? Lookit, it's standing up completely on its own. You can't tell me that's natural."
"I suppose..." Pietro looked at Logan. "He has a point."
In reply, Logan patted the back of his hand. "So do I. Several." He revved the engine a little, sending plumes of black out of the exhaust to billow over the trailing jeep. "Look, there ain't no other way over that there river, and we can't go back the way we came. Searchin' fer another way across that'll take our weight would take up too much time. Time," he gestured over his shoulder at the others, "that we don't have. If this thing's the work of another mutant then fine. P'raps we can recruit 'em or somethin'. If they're hostile, then I'm sure we got enough firepower between us to see ourselves aw'right."
Both Lance and Pietro cast wary glances over their motley group. Raven and Logan would probably be their best line of defence. The others' powers were nifty, and useful in different ways to their journey, but not especially battle-worthy. Those of them healthy enough to fight, that was.
In a pinch, Lance knew that his own abilities might get them out of any jam that presented itself - but he was conscious of how much superfluous damage an earthquake would cause the bridge itself, and had no desire to put everyone's lives in danger through his own actions. The briefest look at Kitty cured any notion of that stone dead.
They had to cross that river, and they had to do it soon. Neither Robyn nor Daisy were looking particularly peachy, and all of them needed a rest from constantly looking over their shoulders, watching out for the next disaster to overtake and try to destroy them. Stress was beginning to tell, as evidenced by gaunt eyes and frayed tempers. Much more time on the road without respite would only result in another outburst amongst themselves, and since the spat between Kurt and Alvin hadn't yet been remedied, another one would likely drive a wedge between the members of their party.
Division of friends was an ugly thing at the best of times, and this was definitely not the best of times.
Lance squared his jaw and adopted a commanding, decisive tone. "Okay, we move on and face whatever comes at us."
Logan nodded, and indicated that they should return to their seats before he started off again. This old crate wasn't the smoothest of starters, and there was no point in creating more injuries than necessary by throwing people down the aisle during take-off.
Pietro, however, wasn't quite so convinced, and twisted his fingers together hesitantly. "You sure this is a good idea?"
"Got any reason not to that outweighs the reasons to head that way?" Logan asked, arching a brow that told them all he knew there were none.
Pietro couldn't answer, and so sighed instead. He went back to the area he'd been sitting before, plopping back into the row preceding Kurt's so that he didn't have to make the elf move for him.
A swift poke to the shoulder instantly caught his attention, and he swivelled around to face a pair of searching golden eyes.
"You okay?" Kurt's voice was level, but his gaze was worried. Having not seen the water-wall for himself, he was relying on the opinion of his 'brother' to ensure their safety.
"Me? Yeah. Just... don't wanna take no risks, is all." Pietro gave a cheery smile and looked forward again. He kept the smirk fixed in place like a mask, refusing to give into the strange, niggly feeling that had started up in the recesses of his chest.
Something was wrong. Very wrong. He just couldn't put his finger on *what*, exactly, and there was no way he could make anyone listen to an odd feeling like that. It wove about his lungs, constricting them with something akin to trepidation, but remained elusive when he probed at it. They'd probably just say it was something he'd eaten if he voiced his sudden worry, so it was better he said nothing.
_After all, they already know I'm crazy. Or as good as,_ he thought wryly. An old phrase Rogue had used to use popped into his head. _What's the use in beating a dead horse?_
Kurt watched the back of Pietro's head as they lurched off and frowned. Whatever he said, the teleporter knew that something was amiss. He'd noticed it the moment Pietro's easy banter evaporated, and the way his movements now were jerky. He looked... worried. Slightly off-key. Like something had spooked him.
Kurt turned and looked out of the grimy window at the austere landscape zipping by. _What are we getting ourselves into now?_
*******************
Ariel twitched only once when Wanda spoke, voice cutting through the silence that had enveloped the bridge like a hot knife through butter. He didn't want to rile her any more than he had to, and so stuck to the barest minimum of movement whenever she deigned to talk, or indicate that she remembered he was there; which wasn't often, he was thankful to note.
Her words were sharp, clipped, and held a note of satisfaction that was chilling to hear. "They're coming," she said simply.
Immediately, Ariel felt her eyes upon him. He could sense her hard gaze, boring into his back. Evidently she expected some kind of answer to this, so he cleared his dry throat and asked, "How can you tell?"
Clearly the response was adequate, for she didn't incinerate him on the spot, which was always a good thing. Instead, she folded her arms agreeably across her chest and nodded at the road beyond the rushing torrent of water they'd erected.
"I can feel him. He's getting closer."
She licked her lips, tasting the salt on her skin with her questing tongue. She was excitable, and found herself hopping from foot to foot in anticipation. She couldn't really see anything except a few blurry images through the liquid wall, but she didn't need sight to tell her that Pietro and his pals were getting nearer. She could sense that strange bond all siblings share. It tightened as the distance between them grew less, like a shining cord gathering and ravelling in her hands. And she pulled at it, champing at the bit and dragging him toward her as hard as she could.
She knew that he must have been feeling some of the same pull, but didn't really consider the implications of it. It was a wonderful feeling; the expectancy of revenge. It bubbled in her gut, and her veins fairly sang with it, pulsed with the sheer joy that vengeance pumped her diseased mind full of.
Ariel cleared his throat again, breaking her reverie. "Who?"
Abruptly, the moment was broken, and she rounded on him, spitting venomously, "Shut up! Just shut up! You don't know when to be quiet, do you, Water Baby? Perhaps I should tear your tongue out to make you silent, eh?"
The scaled mutant shrank back, quailing beneath her savage gaze. Wanda's hair fairly crackled with pent up energy, and stuck out in various peaks and troughs that buzzed and fizzed like severed electricity-pylons caught in the rain. Her hair was unkempt, to say the least, since she hadn't bothered to seek out anything resembling a comb or brush since the lab. It had run wild, and served to accentuate her insane appearance with a halo of black that refused to be tamed, or even coaxed into submission.
She crept forward, and with every step her feet started to lift until she was hovering scant inches above the ground, toes dragging noisily. Ariel kept his gaze fixed on these so as to avoid her face, and fought the urge to cover his head with his hands in fear. She'd stolen a pair of shoes from somewhere, but they were odd and didn't match. On her left foot was a sneaker of gaudy red and white streaks, and on the right, a black boot with a pointed toe that laced up her calf. Had Ariel any memories of high school and the cliques therein; or even if he'd been a more philosophical type, he might've considered the ironic statement of the shoes and what they portrayed. As it was it was all he could do to keep his rebellious stomach under control, and the back of his throat gagged slightly as bile rose up in his seditious and fearful maw.
Then, all at once, Wanda stopped. Her head snapped up like a puppet on a string, and she cocked her ear to one side, like she was listening intently to something that only she could hear. Slowly, a sickening smile wormed its way across her face, and a gleeful giggle emerged yippily from her gullet.
Ariel flinched as she leaned towards him, pressing a finger to her lips and shushing vociferously. Quoting an old movie line, Wanda grinned at him, and then patted him on the head like a good little doggy.
"They're heeeere."
*******************
"Speedy."
"Yeah."
"I want a closer look at that thing."
"Be my guest. I'm not stopping you from getting out."
Logan growled. "We got any binoculars upstairs?"
"Maybe," Pietro shrugged, then caught Logan's eye in the mirror. "You, uh, want I should go look?"
"Smart kid. You do that."
Pietro slid off the bench again, and climbed the stairs to the upper deck.
{Wuff-wuff!}
"Quiet, you," he hushed the dog.
Clive eagerly followed the tall human as he pawed through piles of stuff heaped across most of the seats, stretching as far as her makeshift leash would allow. A sad little whine followed when he paid her no heed, and she coked her head woefully to one side in the manner of all baby animals that didn't understand the world around them.
"Binoculars," Pietro said as he came up with an old, battered pair. "Great."
He bounded down the stairs with his prize, thrusting them into Logan's hands as the bus paused once more. Logan snatched them and lifted them to his eyes, staring intently towards the bridge.
"Can't see a thing with all that water," he growled after a moment.
"Hold on."
A rush of air, and Pietro was back from the jeep before anyone could stop him going in the first place.
"Forge's possibly-patented water goggles. Neutralise light distortion to restore normal vision. Says so on the side." He handed them over. "I spotted them while loading the thing up before."
Logan pressed the device to his eyes, holding the binoculars against the other side. He adjusted the focus, looked intently for several moments, and then cursed inventively. "You set this up?"
"What's there?" Raven leaned out of her seat.
Logan shoved the viewing instruments against Pietro's chest. The teenager fumbled with them, glanced nervously towards his former enemy, and then looked through them towards the bridge. His pitch rose a few notches, and they could practically hear the 'thunk' as his jaw hit the floor.
"Wanda?!"
*******************
"Well," breathed Magneto over Hank's shoulder, "How does it work? What do you see?" The whirr of machinery accompanied his words, as did the soft hum that permeated all of Asteroid M's interior.
Hank smiled. "It's working like a dream," he replied. "Better than expected, in fact. All we need is the genetic code of the target, and we can detect them anywhere on Earth."
"Excellent," his friend sighed, and helped Hank remove the large and cumbersome Cerebro helmet from around his skull.
It was not, in fact, the same Cerebro Charles Xavier had once used, for that demanded some level of telepathic power. Rather, it was a slightly different version; able to pinpoint a person from their genetic signature, if one knew what it was. Erik had helped Charles design and build the original model, so there had been little problem in the initial stages, since this version simply involved combining it with a few experiments from his old lab in the Bavarian mountains. Though not a part of his mutation, Erik possessed an excellent photographic memory.
The work on Cerebro II had been hastened forward by the recent hitches Jamie had been prone to, regarding his clones down on Earth. Erik was planning to use it to pinpoint and rescue the remaining copies so they could be reabsorbed. He also planned to locate any other mutants whose genetic signatures he knew, to see if they were rescue-able. Or even still alive. Not to mention, it was an excellent way of keeping track of people down there - followers and intimate enemies alike.
It had taken many months of hard work to build, and now Erik stood, holding the bulky helmet in his hands and frowning thoughtfully.
Hank guessed what he was thinking. "Don't Erik," he advised. "It's not worth it."
"Worth what? What have I got to lose? The insecurity that drags my steps every day?"
"Erik, you know in your heart that they're dead. The probability of survival, given their respective circumstances, points to a negligible chance, no matter what your dreams may tell you. Why weigh yourself down more with the proof?"
Erik sighed, and slowly put the headset down. "Maybe you're right, Hank," he said in a long-suffering voice. "When I sleep, the things I see are so very *lucid*, but maybe - "
{WHEEE-OOOO-WHEEE-OOOO-WEEE}
The klaxon alarm sounded around the station, manmade scream echoing horribly off the steel walls.
With a wide-eyed look that verged on panic, Beast bounded out. The klaxon was only sounded in the direst of emergencies, and had never been used before outside of training sims.
Erik made as if to follow, but after a few steps along the walkway he raised his hands and magnetically sealed shut the doors to the Cerebro Chamber, locking himself in.
And Hank out.
When this was done, he reached back into the folds of his cloak and turned off the alarm-activation device he had hidden in there. It was a tiny thing, latticed with wires and ugly nodes put together in the privacy of his chambers where nobody would know about it.
Soon the scream of the alarm was replaced by the heavy thuds of Hank's fists as, realising both Erik's ploy and his intention, he tried to get back into the Chamber.
Erik ignored him and picked up the helmet, considering for a fraction of a second longer.
He had the genetic codes. He knew them like the back of his own hand. Years ago he'd used them, tweaked them, and studied them. Mutated them.
_You gave them a better chance for survival._
_I took their childhood away for my own ambition._
He would make it up to them, though. Even if they...
No, they were dead. He knew that - had to know that. Knowing that simple fact had kept him sane, as had his acceptance of it before the recurring dream that insisted otherwise. The dream of Charles, and that unending game of chess. He'd pushed it away, rebirthed his Acolytes on this Asteroid to make up for his past failures.
But somewhere, deep inside of his soul, Erik wondered. He wanted to lay his ghosts to rest - all of them. He wanted to know their fate, to finally put it all behind him. He wanted - no, *needed* to crush that debilitating hope.
He held the curved helmet in one hand, staring into the hollow eyepieces. "Alas, poor Yorik. I knew him, Horatio..."
All right, so his Shakespeare wasn't up to Hank's standard. It was amazing he'd remembered that one line, considering how often it had been misquoted.
With his free hand, Erik tapped in the codes he knew so well. With a deep breath, trying to steady himself, he then placed Cerebro II onto his head and prepared to jump into the abyss of despair.
*******************
Hank kicked and pounded at the door, working frantically to made some kind of indentation , if not bash the whole thing in. He was creating such a din it was impossible one of the others would not hear and come to investigate, but he kept it up nonetheless. Even more so when he heard the telltale hum of Cerebro II kicking into gear.
"Oh my stars and garters," he breathed, hitting the iron door harder and harder until, at last, it caved in.
But it was too late. The hum of Cerebro II had already ceased, and Erik sat, slumped in the chair, his head in his hands. Beast could see that his wide, proud shoulders were shaking, inverted and drooping as if in utter defeat.
Fear and dread filled his furry blue heart. He had known this would happen. He'd known that the truth would break Erik, would push him into the realms of despair and insanity. He had known that, from the moment he put that helmet on, all would be lost. The great man would be broken even more than his Acolytes.
Now Hank could only stand there, numb, until finally he crept slowly forward to put a large hand on Erik's shaking shoulder. "Erik," he said softly, searching for the words, "I'm... I'm so sorry, I - "
But before he could continue, Erik turned around.
To his intense surprise, Hank saw that the older man's face was not etched in grief, but split with a smile. A smile as bright and radiant as the sun after darkest night. The tears that fell from his face and the sobs that racked his body were not grief, but joy. Pure, unadulterated joy.
"Hank!" he laughed in a choked voice, "Hank, they're alive! My children are alive!"
*******************
To Be Continued...
*******************