I opened my eyes after my nap and gasped. Logan was sitting next to me, holding a box and a card in his lap. He nodded as I relaxed. "Mail call," he said.

"Who wrote today?" I asked. I had been surprised at how many people seemed to care about my condition. I had a small stack of get-well cards from the President, members of the Brotherhood, Magneto, and even the criminal Arcade, who hoped we could do business again soon. (I found it unlikely. But I kept the card.)

He shrugged. "Got a postcard from Greece from Petros and a package from True Love Publications."

I took Avalanche's card first. He had gone to Greece for a brief visit, but was planning to come back to the States some time in the next two weeks. He might try to visit me. I could not keep a smile from my face at the idea.

Logan interrupted my thoughts. "Did you order this?" He waved the box. "Doesn't seem your kinda deal."

I smiled. "It is not. It is, however, St. John's 'deal.'"

He stared at me.

"Pyro."

He remained stoic for a moment, then gave a snort of laughter. "The fire guy. A flippin' romantic." He put the box gently in my lap and I took it eagerly.

"It gets worse," I warned him. "He writes himself into every story."

"You're kiddin.'" He leaned over me, and I moved closer to him, so we were nearly touching. I held my breath for a second, then released it and opened the box.

"Give me a moment. I will show you." The lurid cover, showing the standard Gothic castle in the background and the standard female/male duo in the foreground, gave no hint where I might find...ah. Here we were.

I pointed to page 62. "Read that paragraph."

He leaned in and stretched his arm out behind me. I forced my body to relax against it, warm and solid, as he read. "St. Germain, huh?" He left his arm behind me and tapped the page with his right hand.

Breathe. Just breathe. "Yes. He is part of every tale St. John spins."

"Ah." Logan gave another brief laugh, and I joined him.

The door opened, and my children came in. Gambit followed. They all stopped as they saw us, and I clutched the book in my left hand.

"Mother?" "Mama?" Rogue looked stunned, and Kurt suspicious, especially of Logan.

Logan's arm tensed behind me, but his voice was its usual gruff self. "So I'm not important, eh?"

Gambit looked amused, standing behind my children, and gave Logan a brief salute. "Ami."

Logan slowly stood and stretched. "Well. Guess I'll leave you guys alone for now." He bent and closed the book in my left hand, stroking the backs of my fingers. "I'll be back later," he said to me.

He tipped a wave to Gambit and then left.

I put the book on the table by my bed and looked at my stunned children. Kurt recovered first. "Mother? What is this?"

I drew my old confidence around me like a cloak. "Pyro sent me his latest effort. I have not yet had a chance to read it."

My son's face was torn between anger and amusement. Gambit coughed, hiding his mouth, and stayed by the door. Rogue approached my bed. "Mama, you're not ... he's not ... are you?"

I kept my face neutral. "You will have to do better than that, Rogue."

Kurt came up on my other side. "He is bothering you, isn't he, mother?"

I blinked. "Did I look bothered?" I was not pleased by this development, but I was not going to let my son get a wrong impression.

My son withdrew a step or two. "Mein Gott ... " he whispered. Rogue looked worried.

"Mama, you aren't thinking about Logan like that, are you?" Gambit started coughing again, and I drew myself erect.

"Whether I am or not, it is absolutely none of your business, whether as X-men or my children. I am an adult. I will do as I please, and none will stop me." I held a hand up to stop any further outbursts. "Now, I presume you did not come here to interrogate me about Logan. Why are you here?"

Kurt sat and frowned. Rogue pulled up a chair and sat as well, and Gambit arranged himself loosely over the chair Logan had used. I raised an eyebrow at him. He took a deck of cards from his pocket. "Not my show, Mystique."

Rogue swallowed. "Well, Mama," she began, "we were gonna ask if you'd thought more about what you were gonna do. You're gettin' a lot better. Dr. McCoy says you're almost ready for physical therapy."

"Yes," I replied. "Next week, if the professor says it's all right after he invades ... examines my mind." The anger welled up in my soul again. I did not want anyone but me in my mind, and I hated being intelligent enough to realize that it had to happen for the X-men to trust me enough to let me begin the real healing process.

Rogue took my hand. Kurt hung back, a slight frown on his face. She brushed some hair away from my cheek. "It won't be so bad, mama. He did it when I first came here. He's gentle."

I tried to smile, but failed. "Gentle rape is still rape, Rogue." I touched her glove with just enough pressure that she could feel the warmth of my hand. "I understand the rationale, but I do not like it."

"I will be there, if you like," my son said quietly, not looking up, that gentle face now unmarred by anger.

I wished he would look at me. "I would like that. Thank you." Thanks still did not come easily to me.

Gambit cocked his head. "So. What you gonna do, Mystique?" Rogue and Kurt looked at him, and then turned to me.

"I do not know," I said cautiously. "I have given this matter some thought in the middle of the night. I know there is no way I could join you here. I have far too much ... negative history with you." I paused to organize my thoughts. "I do not want to return to terrorism, either. That has never worked, for me or for Magneto. I recognize now that the violent approach has done nothing but get me in trouble."

I put my hands to my face and sighed. I took Rogue's hand again, and Kurt offered me his. I grasped it firmly and continued. "I am not certain what else to do. I would not like to work for the government again. It is too restrictive, too confining. I do know I should not like to work directly for anyone else. I wish to order my own affairs again."

My children were silent, and so was Gambit, though he looked at me speculatively. Rogue squeezed my hand and brushed a brief kiss near my cheek. "Maybe we should go and think more about this, mama, now that we know what you want."

I nodded. Gambit put his cards away and rose as Rogue did. "Kurt?" she asked, and my son moved closer to me, scraping his chair across the floor.

"I will be along shortly, my sister," he said quietly. His hand left mine, and his gaze swept the room before returning to my face.

"Go on, Rogue. The elf and I will be fine." Kurt flinched, and his eyes widened. Rogue and Gambit left as well, after a double take from Rogue.

He muttered under his breath, "You too, and he ... Mother, how long has he been coming to see you?"

"That, my son, is absolutely none of your business." I crossed my arms and looked directly at him, challenging him.

He frowned and pulled close to me, searching my face. "It must be for some time. Otherwise, you would not be speaking like each other."

I stalled for time, searching my memory. What had I said? "I do not speak like Logan. His speech is far less dignified."

Kurt leaned in, concern and exasperation at war in his voice. "You called me elf. You never call me elf! But he does. He said something earlier without using a contraction. You never use contractions." He spread his hands wide. "How long has this been going on?"

I gazed at him and gently touched his chin. "I will not tell you." He frowned again, and I held his head where it was when he would have looked away. "I will, however, assure you of three things. First, Logan has done nothing to delay my recovery. Second, we are both adults and can take care of ourselves. Finally, whether I am with Logan or St. John or the President himself, or if I am without a relationship, I always, always love you."

He watched me anxiously as I spoke, and then bent over to hug me. I held him tight, stroking his hair, and he remained close for several minutes.

When he disengaged, he still looked worried, but all he said was, "I hope he knows you still have a long way to go with your recovery, and will not keep you up all night, Mother. Guten nacht."

He left me alone, and I picked up Flames of the Riviera. Pyro's efforts were, at least, slightly better than the other books in this genre. The book should give my mind the rest it badly needed after this strange day.