Disclaimer: I oen nothing.
Thanks to:
Reeny: I have to admit it was Furygrrl who was the biggest fan of the little bit of Jeance I wrote in Power9 and her fic got me interested in the subject. Don't worry, Emma is only a very minor character, I think she's already played her biggest role!
Furygrrl – Double reviews! YAY! Hope you're feeling better soon. Jean and Lance are gonna spend the next chapter REALLY noticing each other, but right now they're working on who's trying to kill the mutants (and it draws heavily from comics for the background, although I twisted it quite a lot!). And as to how your fics are – I'm loving the Jeance and you know how I feel about TGS!
Enfant-terrible – I think Graydon is a great character! And I'd love to see how he'd deal with a mutation of his own.
Oceanbang – Creed's in Bayville for a reason and you know it can't be good! I'm hoping for the Jeance to be kinda subtle in the beginning at least. But there will be gratuitous happenings later in the fic.
Unpredictable
Chapter 4
"It's a professional job, that's for sure." Pietro had checked the wreckage of the car in record time, isolating the remains of the bomb. "Looks like a remote control deal. More accurate than a couple of sticks of dynamite taped to the ignition. She wouldn't even need to start the car."
"No attempt to make it look like an accident then," said Wanda. "Either they like taking risks, or they want people to know it was deliberate. Sounds like scare tactics."
"I think Jean's plenty scared already," said Lance, glancing up at the window of the apartment.
"Does that mean she'll stay at the Institute?" asked Wanda.
"Exactly the opposite," replied Lance. "She's determined not to be driven out. This just made her want to stay put."
"But this makes me wonder if the car through the café window was a general attempt at mass murder or if it was a way of getting to Jean." Pietro scowled at the remains of the car. "You say she's working on a Pow-R-8 antidote?"
"Yeah, maybe some one doesn't want her to find one."
"I'll lift security tapes from the lab, see if there's anyone hanging around who shouldn't be," said Wanda.
"And we ought to check the ones around here, if there are any." Pietro glanced around the street. "There might be one that shows the car and we can see who messed with it."
"Why do I get the feeling it won't be that easy?" Lance crossed his arms as a truck arrived to move the mangled remains of the car and take it to the police station. "Look, you two better go back to the mansion, the others have held the fort long enough. We need to find some indication of who's doing this, before anything else happens."
"I don't like this at all," said Wanda. "We shouldn't be leaving you and Jean here alone. Why can't she just come to the mansion?"
"You wouldn't," Pietro reminded her. "You'd stay put until the guy tried to get to you again, then you'd hex him into the middle of next week!"
"Yeah, but Jean's supposed to be smart."
"I'll let you know if we find out anything," said Pietro. "C'mon Wanda, let's get back to the Institute before Pyro torches anything else."
Lance raised an eyebrow. "Anything else? I thought he just scorched the Danger Room a little."
"That was then. He's chased half the students around with a flaming dragon and done some major damage to Summers' car. Oh, and he seems to think that Wolverine is his best friend and keeps following him around."
"You'd better go stop him then," said Lance. Pyro was a good guy to have around on their missions, but he did tend to be a little reckless when he got bored and he got bored very easily.
Pietro picked his sister up and they were gone. Lance watched the police struggling to get the remains of the convertible onto the truck for a minute or so, then went back to the apartment. Fortunately, Pietro had brought him some equipment so he could improve the locks, but no lock in the world would help if these guys were as into bombs as they seemed to be.
He knocked on the door and Jean opened it quickly. Lance frowned. "You ought to check and make sure you know the person before you open the door."
"I scanned your mind," replied Jean. "Did you find anything?"
"Bomb was operated by remote control. Had to be some one nearby. Have you noticed anyone you don't know hanging around near here, or near the lab?"
"I don't think so." Jean thought carefully, but she didn't remember seeing anything out of the ordinary. "The lab's in a building with a bunch of other offices though."
"So anyone could have been watching you and you might not even know about it." Lance sighed. Was nothing ever easy?
"I can telepathically scan everyone in the lab, make sure they don't want to sabotage me. I don't like doing it, but I guess we need to be sure."
"Does anyone at the lab know you're a mutant?"
"Sure, they all do."
"Are you Government funded?"
"No, we're funded by Worthington Industries. Do you remember Angel? His father owns the company."
Hearing his cell phone bleeping, Lance took it out of his pocket and checked the message. St John had texted 'Check out the dickhead on channel 29'. Lance picked up the remote control; ignoring the dark look that Jean gave him, turning on the channel. His mood was not improved when he realised the 'dickhead' was none other than his former Principal Robert Kelly, partaking in a question and answer session.
"…Normal humans of Bayville need to protect themselves."
"Only a few days ago, a mutant café in Bayville was attacked. Before that, a church that supports mutant rights was bombed. Surely this is more than the normal humans protecting themselves. These are violent and unprovoked incidents."
Kelly glared at the interviewer. "The people of Bayville live in fear every day, afraid that they'll be caught in the crossfire of another mutant grudge fight or that their children are attending school with genetic anomalies who could seriously injure or even kill them with just a thought. They're demanding that these…people…are segregated away from them."
"Many towns have banned the controversial Pow-R-8 drink, due to the so-called 'toxic eliminators' being harmful and possibly even lethal to the mutant population. Yet not only have you as Mayor continually allowed the drink for sale, your town hosts the main supply plant. Would you care to explain your acceptance of this substance?"
"The Pow-R-8 plant provides jobs in Bayville. And the ill effects of Pow-R-8 have not been proved to be lethal or even particularly harmful, certainly no more so than cigarettes or alcohol and we allow the sale of those. All Pow-R-8 does is expose mutants for what they are, allowing us to be on our guard against them. They try to blend in amongst normal humans, but I assure you, they are not normal."
Jean shuddered. Two days before some one had driven a car through the window of a café, killing six people, and this guy thought it was self-defence? She could still hear the screams every time she tried to go to sleep. She doubted she'd ever be able to forget it. And the terror that everyone in the building had felt had affected her as a telepath, their fear strong enough to cut through her psychic defences. Pow-R-8 was toxic to mutants and their Mayor wanted to manufacture it in their town. And now some crazed anti-mutant fanatic had tried to blow her up…
"Turn it off Lance," she said softly.
He'd been glaring at the TV, looking more like the teenage boy she remembered as he watched the man who had expelled him from school dismiss the anxieties of the mutant population. But when he looked at her, he turned it off in a hurry. Jean had gone pale and she was twisting a lock of hair around her finger. She'd been through a lot and the last thing she needed was any more upset.
"Sorry," he said. "Guess that prick'll never change."
"Probably not."
"I'm going to sort out these locks." Lance grabbed the bag that Pietro had brought over and went to the door to attach them. Jean watched him for a moment, then tried to go back to her novel. She'd been quite enjoying it when she began to read, but she was unsurprised to find it hard to concentrate.
Her eyes left the page and she found her gaze drawn to Lance again. He was humming under his breath as he went about sorting out her new locks, a look of concentration on his face and a strand of hair continually falling into his eyes. He would jerk his head back impatiently to get it out of the way, only for it to fall back a few seconds later.
I'm glad he's here. I'd be afraid to be on my own right now…He looked up suddenly and Jean realised she'd been staring. She quickly glanced back at her novel, pretending to be absorbed in reading.
"You should be alright with these now," said Lance, testing the various locks. "It'd take me ages to break in now and I'm pretty good at it."
"They teach you how to break into peoples houses at SHIELD?"
"Some of it. The rest I picked up myself." He grinned at her.
"Do you…"
She broke off as her phone rang. Picking it up from the table, she noticed Rogue's name on the called ID. "Hey Rogue."
"Hey Jean. You OK?"
"You heard about the car then."
"The Brotherhood just told us. Jubilee's refusing to go back to class tomorrow and Danielle and her grandfather moved into the mansion temporarily. We all wish you'd reconsider coming home."
"This is my home now. Besides, Lance is here."
"Yeah, the walking Richter scale. You know he sets of earthquakes every time he gets pissed off. The neighbours'll love that."
"There hasn't been a single earth tremor yet."
"If some one's really out to get you, you'll be much safer at the mansion."
"Not gonna happen Rogue. How's things at the Institute?"
"Pietro's trying to charm Emma, so Scott's pissed. Pyro wants to be friends with Logan, so he's pissed. Toad's teasing Kurt about the priesthood, so he's pissed. Wanda's scaring the crap out of all the kids, so they're pissed. And Blob's taken over the kitchen to cook the biggest meal ever and it's Kitty's turn to do dinner, so she's pissed."
"You can always tell when the Brotherhood are around."
"Word of advice Jean? Ah managed to get through first, but all the others are trying to call. If you wanna get any peace at all, sent the Prof a message and turn off the phone or else you'll never get left alone."
"I'll do that."
"Remy, would you go jump out of a window or something? Sorry Jean, ah gotta go. You're not really going into work tomorrow are you?"
"Yeah, but Lance is going with me."
"Why doesn't that make me feel any better? You take care of yourself."
"You too. See you."
Jean hit the cut-off button and grinned ruefully. It might be nice to be back at the mansion just to see the chaos that the Brotherhood were bringing…
The phone began ringing again, Kitty's number showing in the caller ID. Suddenly aware that she was alone in her apartment with the girl's ex-boyfriend, she cut off the call and telepathically spoke to the Professor.
…are you all right Jean…
…yes, but I'm going to bed, could you ask the others not to phone me…
…I'll do that goodnight…
Lance gave her a look. "Were you just doing that telepathy thing?"
"Just asking the Professor to keep everyone off the phone." Jean stood up. "Look, it's been a long day, what with the murder attempt and everything. I'm going to bed. I'll grab you the spare blanket."
"Yeah, thanks," said Lance absently, going over to the window and looking around outside. Jean felt momentarily hurt that he wasn't paying more attention to her, then chided herself for being ridiculous. He was there to make sure she was safe, not to worry about her emotional state.
Jean grabbed the spare duvet from the cupboard, put it on the sofa and went into her room without another word. Lance waited for ten minutes, keeping an eye out for anything suspicious but seeing nothing. Then he went over to the fridge and grabbed a carton of milk, pulling his phone out of his pocket and calling Pietro.
"Anything to report?" asked Pietro.
"Nothing. It's all gone quiet. You?"
"Got a hit on the Creed name," said Pietro smugly. "You'll never guess who recognised it."
"Who?"
"Logan. Heard me mention it to the others and burst into the room ranting like a maniac."
"So who is he?"
"Graydon Creed, I wasn't sure of 'til I got back onto the computer. But his father is one Victor Creed, better known to you and me as Sabretooth."
"Sabretooth!" Lance paused in the process of taking a glass from the cupboard. "That can't be coincidence."
"I asked Pyro why he didn't recognise the name. He said he did, but Logan burst in before he could mention it. I think he's just sulking because Iceman busted his lighter."
"Wanda made him lose the flamethrowers then?"
"Oh yeah. What I don't understand is what connection to all this Sabretooth has. It's not really his style is it?"
"Maybe it's got nothing to do with him. Just because his kid shows up in town doesn't mean he's behind it. Which poor woman was sick enough to do the deed with Sabey?"
"Leni Zauber. I'll look into her background too, although I dunno that it'll help. But Graydon Creed's about the best link we've got at the moment. I'm gonna see if Magneto knows anything. He's out of town at the moment, but he's due back at the Institute soon. Xavier says he's coming back early because of all this."
"Good luck with that."
"I'm gonna need it." Pietro went quiet for a moment. "I might let Wanda deal with him. He doesn't know whether to be afraid of her or to treat her like a Daddy's girl since the Mastermind thing. But if anyone knows about Sabretooth's history, it's him."
"Doesn't Logan know anything?"
"Not about this. He's got gaping holes in his memory apparently. Can't tell me anything about Sabretooth's family."
"That's just great. And you can't find anything out about him?"
"I'm running a face recognition scan on this computer – it's a helluva hard drive by the way – but since I'm not sure what to look for, it might take a while even for me."
"Maybe you should start with some of the news footage for the anti-mutant riots that have been going on around here and if there's been any where he lived before." Lance poured himself a drink and blinked as the milk came out of the carton smelling slightly strange. Jean having sour milk in the fridge did not fit his image of her. On the other hand, she'd had a stressful few days.
"Good thinking," said Pietro. "I'll call if I find anything. Wanda's been trying to find out from Nightcrawler if he saw anything or anyone around the church when he was there. Pyro went down there to see if he can work anything out. That's the thing that doesn't fit. If the other two incidents were an attempt at Jean, then why the church? Or maybe we're wrong and the attacks are just random anti-mutant crimes."
"Did the X-Men send a team down to the church while it was burning?" Lance poured the milk down the sink and opted for a glass of water instead.
"Of course they did. Nightcrawler, Iceman, Cyclops, Shadowcat, Colossus. Why?"
"I wonder if the person who torched the church knew that Jean had left the X-Men? Maybe it was an attempt to draw her out."
"That would mean that sometime between the church and the café attacks, she was found and stalked without her noticing. This is Jean Grey we're talking about remember. Not only is she a telepath, she's got experience at this kind of thing. Anyone following her would have to be very, very good."
"I guess it could all be coincidence." Lance went back over to the window and looked out again. "But something about it feels wrong. Do you have an address for this Graydon Creed?"
"Yeah, but when Wanda called the address the woman who answered told her that she'd thrown him out. Also she called Wanda a 'slutty tramp'. I've never seen her look so taken back."
Lance laughed at the image. "I suppose he didn't leave a forwarding address."
"Nope. I got Toad to call and sound official, you know how these jilted women love to get a guy into trouble, but she said she didn't know where he'd gone but we should try 'ho's R us'."
"Work address?"
"He quit."
"Great."
"We'll find him. And then we'll probably find that he's perfectly innocent. In the meantime, let me get on with the face recognition scans."
Lance frowned as he terminated the call. In his experience, coincidences of that size just didn't happen. But he couldn't work out Sabretooth's role in the whole thing. And was Creed a mutant too?
Deciding that Jean had to be asleep by now, noticing no light from beneath her bedroom door, he stripped down to his boxers and tried to fold himself up on the tiny couch. It wasn't the most uncomfortable place he'd ever slept, but it was damn close. He pulled his knees up toward his chest, then gave up and switched the TV back on. A late night sit-com did little to distract his attention from the thoughts whirling through his head, but in the end he managed to fall asleep.