BNW 10/?

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When his alarm nagged him awake at four-thirty the next morning, Logan opened his eyes just in time to see Darien walking out of the bathroom, his hair still slightly damp. The older man sat up and swung his legs out of bed, scrupulously avoiding the sight of his young roommate in nothing but boxer briefs and crew socks.

"You're up early."

"Only by half an hour. Don't know why, though. I'm not that nervous."

"A touch of nerves is always good. Keeps you from getting arrogant and doing something really stupid."

"Trust me, no over-confidence here. I know I can handle the assignment, but I'm not taking anything for granted." Darien assured him as he pulled on a shirt.

"Assume and you make an ass out of you and me." Logan quoted as he rooted in his bureau for clothes.

"Out my way, we changed it a little. Our version goes ' Assume and you end up dead with a hole in the back of your skull after the bad guys scooped out your QS gland and left you to decompose '."

Logan halted for a moment to look at the other man.

"You're too damn casual about your own death, kid."

"Casual's the wrong word. I had to accept it or I'd be holed up in a loony bin yelling at the paintings to stop lookin' at me."

"You sound like you know the day and hour."

"No, I just know it's gonna happen. The medicine Claire delivered... she says I'm getting a little more immune to it every time I get a shot. Pretty soon it won't do the job anymore an' if she hasn't figured out a permanent fix by then... poof. One wing and a half strung harp here I come."

"Half strung... you weren't always a white hat, that it?"

"That's a nice way of putting it. I'm workin' my way back."

"We all are, kid. We all are. I'll be outta the shower in a few minutes."

"Okay. I'll be ready to go when you are."

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5:10 A.M.

"Good morning, everyone."

Xavier watched as his team gathered in a semi-circle, waiting for his next words. He sensed slight tension in one or two of them, but was surprised to find almost none in Darien, so he probed him superficially. The young man was confident and fairly relaxed, physically and mentally ready to contend with whatever might happen. The utter contrast standing a few steps away from Darien, however, was worrying Xavier deeply. He began to see why Jean had been so concerned the night before and realized he should have taken her upset more seriously.

"Cyclops. Are you feeling alright?"

"Me? I'm fine, Professor. Just fine."

"You seem... distracted. If you're having trouble focusing, perhaps you should stay home. I can ask one of the senior students to assist us..."

"No. There's nothing wrong with my concentration."

Xavier studied Cyclops for a long moment then sighed quietly.

"I know there's a reason you're shielding your thoughts, Cyclops, but I won't press it now. When we return... you and I will sit down and talk."

"Yes, Professor."

"Wolverine, would you show Darien where the extra men's uniforms are and help him find one that fits?"

"That won't be easy. I don't know if there's anybody here as tall as he is."

"Do your best."

"You got it."

The pair moved off as Xavier began to review the mission and the roles each individual would play. "You're gonna hate the uniform, but I have to admit, they work. You can move in 'em and you're not drippin' with sweat, which makes it a lot easier to get out of at the end of the day." He commented as he held up various sizes and styles and compared them to Darien's frame.

"Do I really even need one? I mean, since noone is supposed to see me... what's the point?"

"Bein' a part of the team is the point. The NFL don't play in street clothes an' penny loafers do they?"

"Right... okay, so... uniform. Do I wanna know why I'm going to hate it?"

Wolverine grinned wickedly.

"Skin-tight don't even come close. Here. This'll do fine." He announced, showing the other man a dark gray, matte-finish uniform with silver and white accents. "Dressing room's back there."

Darien accepted the one-piece outfit guardedly, turning it around to study the back, then moved into the small space at the rear of the ante-room and closed the door. When Darien emerged a few minutes later, the veteran was hard pressed to keep his comments to himself. After a discreet release of breath and a slow swallow, he beckoned with his head, turned and walked back to join the others. Jean chuckled at the mildly pole-axed expression on her friend's face, but stopped the moment their new teammate appeared.

"What? Is it that bad?"

"Oh, no." Storm replied, moving closer and touching his arm gently. "It is wonderful. Perfect. Wolverine chose well. It even suits your name."

The young man's face brightened as he remembered the nick-name she had given him.

"Oh yeah. I forgot... Flurry. I'm Flurry now..."

His spine straightened, something subtle changed in his eyes and Flurry walked over to reclaim the spot where he'd been standing earlier. Xavier noted the difference in his manner, despite how small the shifts had been, and smiled.

"Alright. Uniforms and breakfast, then we meet in the hangar. Precisely ninety minutes."

As the group began to break up and head to their respective dressing rooms, Darien simply stood, seemingly lost in his own thoughts, until the professor spoke to him.

"I really don't think I need to ask, but..."

"I go see-through, make my way inside, find the central computer and download as much information as possible to the system here. Then I pop in a disk you'll give me this morning and run the program."

"And then?"

"Get out and let the others do their jobs."

"Excellent. And you remember the download procedure?"

"Absolutely. I may not be really up on high-tech, but I have a great memory. I can do this. I promise I won't let you down."

"I know you won't. Go find something to eat. I'll see you in the hangar."

"Okay. Professor?"

"Yes."

"Thanks for everything. Even if I never get to be Flurry again... I'll know I'm never alone and I'm not really a freak. When I... when it gets really hard for me, I'll have that at least." He said, just before he left to head for the dining hall. Xavier watched him go, musing on how much he detested the word never.

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THE HANGAR:

Flurry moved slowly up into the plane a few steps ahead of Cyclops, wondering just how much it would take for his new uniform to burst into flames. Since they'd gathered early that morning, he had been thoroughly ignoring the other man's intent stare and obvious anger, unaware of its source and unwilling to cause trouble by trying to confront it, even with peaceful words.

Storm showed him how the unusual seat restraint worked and he secured it leaning his head back and closing his eyes in preparation for take off. Cyclops moved to take the seat directly across the aisle, but Jean's firm hand in the center of his back encouraged him to move farther toward the rear.

In the middle of buckling herself in, she picked up her head as if listening then turned to Flurry sitting in front of her.

"Doctor Westerfield is awake and doing well. She's asking for you."

"Crap. I know how important this is. I just wish I could talk to her... tell her I'm okay."

"I'll tell the nurse and she'll pass the message along."

"Claire'll never buy it."

"We should be back by tonight. You'll be able to see her then. Try and concentrate on what's ahead right now."

"I know. I'm here, I promise. Thanks for the update."

"You're welcome."

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INFIRMARY

"How can I give out information when I don't really have any?! I don't know where I am, I don't know who you are..."

Regretting the headache beginning to pound behind her eyes, the nurse finally pulled out her personal cell phone and handed it to the woman sitting up on the bed.

"I'll be standing right beside you, Doctor Westerfield. One wrong word, one slip of the tongue, intentional or not, and..."

"I understand. Just give me the bloody thing.... Eberts?"

"Claire! What is going on?! Why didn't you come back?! The Official is on the verge of a stroke!"

"I expected as much. All I can say is that something came up and I've been... incapacitated."

"You'll need to come up with more detail than that, I'm afraid."

"The pilot?"

"Unfortunately, yes. Claire..."

"I can't, Albert. I'm sorry. I'll be in touch again as soon as I'm able, alright?"

'That will have to do, I suppose, but it won't lower his blood pressure one digit."

"There's nothing I can do about that at the moment. Talk to you soon."

"Take care of yourself."

"I promise. Good-bye."

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TBC.......