Disclaimer: I do not own X-Men. The canon ideas and original characters (Charles Xavier, Kurt "Nightcrawler" Wagner, Robert "Iceman" Drake, Jean Grey, Erik "Magneto" Lehnsherr, "Black" Tom Cassidy, Peter "Colossus" Rasputin, Sean "Banshee" Cassidy, Elizabeth "Betsy" Braddock, a.k.a. "Psylocke", and Mastermind) were created by Stan Lee and Marvel comics; therefore, X-Men belongs to them. Jennifer Kaneshige, David Forslund, and I co-own our original character David Forslund, but his nickname "Blacklight" belongs solely to me. I also created and own the characters Jet "Viper" Black, Kristina "Phantom (X)" James, Tamiko "Sonic" Kaneshige, Caleb "Hephaestus" Tucker, Deanna "Medusa" Barnes, Matthew "Falcon" James, Tina Andrews "Gypsum" Black, Hanna "Evie" Black, Jason McCleod, Lauren "Sable" Shadoan, Dennis Owen, and any other character ultimately unrelated to the original Marvel universe. This story, "The Hunt for Black Tom", is © Kristina Jones 2003, and any plagiarism or copyright thereof without the explicit consent of the author is prohibited.

X-Men: "The Hunt for Black Tom"

"Look at the stars. Look how they shine for you, and everything you do. Yeah they were all yellow. I came along, I wrote a song for you, and all the things you do. And it was called 'Yellow.' So then I took my turn. Oh what a thing to have done! And it was all 'Yellow.' Your skin… Oh yeah, your skin and bones turn into something beautiful." –Coldplay, "Yellow"

"And this is my apology. I killed myself from the inside out. And all my fears have pushed you out. And I wish for things that I don't need. All I wanted. And what I chase won't set me free. All I wanted. And I get scared, but I'm not crawling' on my knees." -Goo Goo Dolls, "Sympathy"

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Chapter V: Blackened Lights

"Mommy!" a small voice squealed from behind the chatter in the halls as Kris walked along toward the dining hall for breakfast. Turning, she watched as a small child with amber brown hair pushed her way through the legs of students and teachers. "Mommy!" she screamed again, her hazel eyes alight with delight. Her baby cheeks pouching out above her grin, the girl wrapped her arms around Kris's leg, kissing the young woman's knee in excitement. Putting her hand on the child's head, Kris glanced at Jet, who had approached from the crowds, his eyes darting back and forth between Kris and the girl as pain lingered behind his pupils.

Confusion dwelt upon Kris's face as she fought to decipher Jet's gaze. Before she could speak, Jet slowly went to one knee, his left hand outstretched, as though he yearned to touch the little girl. "Evie," he stuttered, his voice barely rising high enough for Kris to hear him. The girl turned her head to him, her smile flickering. "She—she's not Mummy," he fought to let out, his voice choking in his throat. It was in that moment that Kris noticed the striking resemblance the girl bore to Tina; her smooth olive skin and long willowy legs, and the small mouth beneath a small pug nose. But her eyes were set off of the bridge of her nose, stretching long but wide, the same as Jet's. And Tina had had light blue eyes.

Tears were forming behind Jet's eyes as the child shook her head whenever he spoke, as though she were trying to ward off an unheard voice inside of her mind. "E-Evie…" he whispered, putting a soft hand to her face, but the child shied away, clinging tightly to Kris's leg. At this, a tear escaped Jet's eyes, but he quickly wiped it away. At that moment, a tall redheaded woman pushed her way to them. Catching sight of Evie, she sighed and said:

"Hanna Evelyn Black!" The girl's eyes shot to the woman, and her grip on Kris loosened. But the woman's exasperated demeanor faded when she noticed Jet. "Oh, sorry, Jet. I didn't know you were here," she apologized.

"It's all right, Jean," Jet muttered quietly, his paining eyes still staring into his daughter's beautiful face.

"Evie, were you saying hello to your daddy?" Jean asked playfully, gesturing at Jet.

Immediately, Evie's grip on Kris tightened and she said, "I was saying Hi to Mommy!" Jean's eyes flicked up to Kris's face, and her lips pulled into a tight line. Kris stared back at her, partially confused and embarrassed, but another part of her silently laughed as she felt the woman attempt to probe her mind.

You can't. Kris's voice whispered into Jean's thoughts. Have you forgotten? A smug grin spread over her face as she tapped her temples smartly.

Pulling herself up straight, Jean stared coldly at her and stated, "She's not your mommy, Evie!" Striding forward, she gripped Evie's hand and made to take her away, but Evie shook her off and clung even tighter to Kris's leg. "Come on," Jean commanded, reaching for her.

Tears began to pour from Evie's eyes, and she began to cry, "Mommy! Mommy!" Pulling her struggling into her arms, Jean made to carry her away.

"She is not your mother!" Jean shouted at the child, who had now snatched onto the collar of Kris's jacket.

"Mommy!" the girl screamed, her hazel eyes flooded with tears. Jean managed to pull her away and take her down the hall, all the while Evie's screaming echoing over the now silent students who pretended not to be paying attention.

Feeling extremely uncomfortable, Kris shifted her weight from one foot to the other. She looked down at Jet, who was struggling with tears as he knelt on the floor.

There was a long moment before Kris said, "I'm sorry. I had no idea."

"It's all right," Jet whispered as he stood, slowly so as to hide his tears. "It's just, I never realized until now how much you look like Tina."

Kris stared at him in silence, afraid to move, to speak.

By mid-morning, classes had fully commenced, so Kris made her way across the mansion, occupying her time until lunch hour rolled around. Finding the special panel of wall out in the main hallway, she found the almost completely camouflaged button and pressed it. In a moment, the wall opened as an elevator door, and Kris stepped inside the well-lit metal lift and waited as the doors closed, and she moved down to the lower levels. As the doors opened, she stared out into the hall, modern stainless steel composing the walls and numerous X-shaped doors. Stepping out, her shoes clicked on the linoleum floors as she headed to the end of the hallway. Standing in front of the last door, Kris put her hand on the large X and closed her eyes.

How she had longed to enter that special room when she was a teenager. She had always yearned to discover the secrets of Cerebro on her own. Leaning her head thoughtfully against the door, she thought of her younger days in which she had stood outside this door and done the same as now. Laughing, she stepped away and shook her head. "Maybe someday," she whispered aloud.

With that, she turned and headed for the door on the opposite end of the hall. There, she waited as they automatically opened at her approach. Stepping inside, she looked around as the computer voice echoed, "Welcome to the Danger Room." Taking in a sweet breath, she smelled the sharp scent of sweat. Turning to the program pad on the wall, she typed in a command, and the texture of the room changed from the steel lining to a wooden floored gym. Typing in the next code, a punching bag lowered from the ceiling at the far corner of the room. Walking to it, she stared around, memories flooding her, and she playfully let her fist sail. It collided with the bag hard, her middle knuckle splitting open. Cradling her hand, she laughed. Blood was gently oozing along the cut, and she muttered, "Should have known."

"That was a bit stupid, don't you think," someone called from the doorway. Turning, she looked at Jet's thin form and smiled.

"Oh well," she said as he walked to her, his boots clicking loudly on the floor. As he approached, she continued, "At least I know that my blood is real. There are things that never change, Jet, and pain happens to be one of them. No matter how many times I punch that bag, as long as I punch it that particular way, it will cut my knuckles."

"But you don't need to bleed in order to figure out if you're real," he let out, partially confused by her statements.

Shaking her head, Kris said, "But without pain, Jet Black, we would never know that something's wrong." At this, Jet took her injured hand into his and gently massaged her knuckles. There was a long moment of silence as Kris looked around, and she let out an airy laugh and commented, "Guess what. This is where we first met."

There was a long pause, and Jet looked up at her, pain in his eyes. "Yeah, it is," he whispered almost inaudibly. Looking back down at her hand, Jet continued to massage her knuckles. His demeanor was sad and resolute.

"Hey, Jet," Kris inquired softly, "are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," he whispered, shrugging his shoulders. "Just still shaking off this morning. You see, before Tina was…killed, Mastermind found my daughter and did some illusion stuff to her. It…it…um…it left a bit of damage. Now she…she doesn't even recognize me…" There was a long moment, and he struggled with his tears once more. When he felt composed, he said, "Speaking of when we first met, what were you going to ask me back at the house?"

"Oh nothing," she let out quickly. "It doesn't matter anymore. I just had a dream the other night, and felt like I needed to talk to somebody."

"Did you ever talk to anyone?" he asked, his eyes still on her hand.

Nodding, she answered, "Yeah, I did."

"Who?"

"David," she replied quietly. He nodded abruptly, his eyes focused on her hand as though he feared to look anywhere else. "There's something I trust about him," she continued thoughtfully. "He's easy to talk to and understanding."

"You don't know that," Jet let out sharply. "You don't know him, Kris."

"See, that's the strange thing," Kris said earnestly, looking at the locks of his wavy black hair. "I feel like I do know him."

"But you DON'T!" he suddenly shouted, his eyes shooting into hers. Taken aback, Kris stared into him, confused. Seething, something burnt inside his eyes, and he stated, "I've known him for years, Kris. And there are some things that you shall never understand about him."

"What's that supposed to mean?" she let out, offended.

"Nothing, forget I said anything," he snapped, looking back down to her hand. She opened her mouth to speak, but as Jet continued to massage her knuckles, she felt a great wave of anger and sadness flowing from him. Closing her eyes, she concentrated on the resolute feeling and was suddenly overwhelmed with his emotions that she gasped in stressed shock. He looked up at her, and whispered, "What? What is it?"

Shaking her head, she gulped, fighting to rid herself of his emotions. But they only lingered, his anger and hopeless depression sending her mind spiraling in concern. "You never told me how much it hurts," she commented in a whisper, staring into his violet eyes. Daggers in his gaze, he quickly looked away. Putting her hand through his hair, she consoled him, saying, "You can trust me, Jet. We'll bring her death to rights."

He simply shook his head, and Kris gazed at him, confused and concerned. "No," he whispered, his eyes dodging her stare. "It's not that." After a moment, he looked at her, and she heard his thoughts just as he said, "It's you… It's how much I want you." He reached up and brushed her cheek, and her eyes closed in ecstasy. Fingering her hair, he drew closer, and leaned in.

"No," Kris said, breaking away. Turning away from him, she grew hard and stated, "I told you, I can't do this."

Coming up behind her, he put his hands on her shoulders and whispered, "But you cannot deny that you want it." Her mind flashed and she could hear, Oh, your skin is so warm. His hands were on her hips, and tears burnt behind her eyes. Are you afraid?

Stepping away, she put her hands to her face and shouted, "No! No, I don't want it!"

"But, Kris—"

"Stop! Just stop," she turned, her hand out in defiance. Tears hanging on her eyelids, she continued, "I'm sorry that your life is horrible. I'm sorry your wife is dead. I'm sorry your daughter doesn't know you. I'm sorry that you cannot cope with your losses. But you are still very much in love with Tina, Jet. And even if I may want to love you, I could never give in. I love you as any great friend would. You miss Tina. You loved her. But I will never be your whore!" And with that, she turned and ran out, tears pouring down her cheeks.

Inside the elevator, she waited till the doors closed before she sank to the floor and drenched the world with tears.

Her face was red with the salt from her tears as she walked slowly down the hall toward her room. Struggling with tears, she halted in her steps and leaned against the wall and sighed.

"Kris," a voice called gently. Looking up, she saw David approaching from down the hallway, his dark hair fluttering over her face as he walked. "Are you okay?"

Standing tall, she nodded as she pushed back the tears. He came to her, only feet away as she stared curiously into his eyes. There was a moment before she said, "You're tall." Letting out a thin laugh, he smiled inquisitively.

"Where did that come from?" he asked, amused.

Smiling in return, she quirked her head to the side and said, "I don't know. I just never really noticed before now." With that, she giggled and looked past him over his shoulder in thought. "And to answer your question," she said quietly, "I think I'll be okay."

Looking into her with those large blue eyes, a thought danced between them in mixed concern and curiosity. They stood in silence for long passing minutes, simply staring into each other, misty wonder painted on their faces. Kris grew curious as she stared into his sparkling eyes, and questioned, "You aren't a telepath are you?"

At this David laughed, and he shook his head. "No, I'm not," he said quietly, a large smile spreading over his face. "But you are?"

Grinning, Kris laughed, almost unsure of why so. "Yes, I've told you that, haven't I?" she stated cheerfully.

"Well, not really. Just, when you rescued me, you spoke to my thoughts… It's hard to forget something like that," he replied. A moment, and he asked, "You don't read people's minds all the time, do you?"

"No, of course not!" she exclaimed with a grin. "I have trouble reading anyone's thoughts ever. Even if I don't like them very much, I hate doing it. I only use it when I feel it's necessary. Which is why I don't do it very often."

"Oh, that's good to know," he added thoughtfully. Turning, he leaned back against the wall and sighed in thought. Looking to her, he leant his head to the wall and asked, "Did I ever show you what I can do?"

Curious and intrigued, Kris shook her head with a confused smile and whispered, "Nope. I know it has something to do with light."

"And shadow," he added with a knowing smile. Laughing, he opened a hand to her and requested, "Give me your hand."

"Okay," she replied hesitantly, stretching out her left hand. He took it slowly, taking both of his hands and wrapping them around her one. Glancing around, David blinked and the lamps in the hallway turned out. It was dark except for the daylight that streamed in from the windows of the open bedrooms.

"Don't move," he instructed passively, his grip on her hand soft and careful. Bringing his hands with hers to his mouth, he blew his breath against her fingertips, and she felt a gentle tickle along her knuckles. It spread like water up her arm, and suddenly the hall was alight with a bright white light that streamed from her fingertips and the ends of her hair, illuminating the fairness of her skin and the blue of her eyes. Laughing in amazement, she stared around at the brightness of everything. He grinned and slowly let go of her hands, the light lingered for a moment, then he shut his eyes and it slowly faded, the lamps coming to light once more.

"Wow," she let out, a smile painted across her face that would not flicker. "That was so awesome."

"I thought you might like that," he whispered softly. A long moment passed, and she watched him as he stared into the wood of the walls in deep thought.

Swallowing in hesitation, she bit her lip in inquiring thought and said, "David." He paused before looking over at her, his eyes shimmering. "Hey," she said in concern, abandoning her current thoughts, "hey, are you alright?"

Nodding, he gulped and stuttered, "Yes, yes, I'm fine." He waited a moment and then said, "I just… I just realized something. I just remembered…"

And he trailed off, leaving Kris staring into him with concern. "Remembered what?" she asked in eager longing.

Shaking his head, he turned to look at her. Brushing her cheek with his fingertips, he smiled weakly and said, "I know we've met somewhere before. I could never forget such a face…" Brushing back hair from her face to her ears, he added, "Such a wondrous smile." Tears lingered inside of his eyes, and Kris grew worried and confused. His touch was so light and comfortable. Then, he whispered, "What am I thinking now, Kris?"

A tear escaped down his cheek as she hesitated with this statement. Reaching up, she gently wiped the tear away. "What am I thinking?" he repeated in an anxious whisper. Her hand paused against the side of his face; she could feel his skin, smooth and rough at the same time. Drawing closer, she closed her eyes and waited, unsure if she should proceed. He gripped her hand, waiting for her to continue. His breath was hot against her face, and she hesitated. "Please," he breathed, and she drew closer.

"Okay," she whispered, reaching out her other hand and placing it on the other side of his face. Sighing, she let her thoughts go and she was suddenly inside of David, wandering in passive sadness. Touching his current thoughts, she saw him standing there, his hands gently resting at her waist. Her breathing timed with his as they streamed in one consciousness.

My name is Blacklight… he whispered, and she heard him. My name is Blacklight because… And as his thoughts proceeded to explain, his memories played out like a picture before her. Tears streamed over her cheeks as she withdrew from his thoughts. Opening her eyes, she looked to see his flooded with tears. "What do you see?" he gasped in an anxious whisper.

Stepping back, she shook her head and whispered through her tears, "Nothing… I saw nothing." Her head ached in stress and disbelief.

Backing away, she shook her head, and he whispered, "Kris, I'm so sorry." Shaking her head, as though denying her own thoughts, she struggled with tears.

"I—I have to go," she whispered, turning and disappearing down the hallway. He watched her go, helplessly leaning into the wall fighting his own sorrow.

Striding into Jet's room, Kris searched for him, and found no one there. Pacing to the bed, Kris crouched down and pulled out a briefcase from beneath it. Throwing it onto the bed, she fumbled with the lock. Reaching out, she found Jet and searched his mind for the code. Finding it quickly with him none the wiser that she was even in his thoughts, she punched the pass-code into the lock and waited as it clicked and opened.

Pulling it open, she fumbled with the manila folders and found one labeled, "Forslund, David: History." Slowly opening it, she handled pictures and papers. She looked at a photograph of him as a young teenager, his hair short and wispy. Struggling with tears, she stared at another photo, and he was only about eighteen with his arm slung over young Jet's shoulders, smiles across their faces. And no other person behind them but Erik Lehnsherr, his grey hair soft against his grey eyes.

"No, it's not true," she whispered to herself, wiping away tears that ran from her eyes.

"What are you doing?" someone asked angrily from behind her. She turned to look into Jet's violet snake eyes, and only grimaced when she saw that he held a lighted cigarette in his right hand.

Throwing down the file, she stood slowly and asked, "Why did you never tell me that David was in Magneto's Brotherhood?"

"What?!" Jet nearly shouted in frustration, anger, and disbelief. "Why are you going through those files? Those are confidential! Plus, you were never supposed to know. No one was. David and I agreed upon that."

"But he told me, Jet," Kris let out in tears.

"Did he?" Jet inquired in annoyance, putting the cigarette to his mouth and taking in a deep breath. After a moment, he blew out the smoke, and Kris rolled his eyes in aggravation.

"What is that?" she nearly screamed in a mixture of anger and sorrow as she gestured at the cigarette in his mouth. "I thought you quit smoking a long time ago."

Grimacing, Jet took another long inhale of the cigarette and blew it out. "Well, times have changed, Kris," he replied.

Shaking her head, she looked down and picked up the file, muttering, "Such a disgusting habit." Opening the file defiantly, she stared over the pages to him.

He breathed heavily, unsure of how he should speak. "Put the file down," he stated slowly and sternly. She simply raised an eyebrow, and she slowly turned another page. "Put it down now," he said threateningly. Pretending to ignore his words, she looked down at the file and began rifling through the pages in false interest. "Why are you trying to piss me off?" he nearly shouted.

"I don't know," she retorted in anger. "Maybe because you're acting so contemptuous." In frustration, she threw the file back onto the bed. The papers scattered haphazardly across the blankets, and Jet strode forward in rage. He moved as though he would strike her, but drew short and put the cigarette back to his lips. In utter disgust and anger, Kris snatched it from his mouth and crushed it in her hand. At this, he grew terribly upset and lashed out, striking the back of his hand across her face. Swaying with the blow, Kris's hand flew to where he had hit her. Looking into his eyes in fury, tears welled in them and she whispered, "I thought you may have changed, Jet Black. But now I can see that you are still the same angry teenager you always were. Only one thing has changed. You no longer have me to stand behind you." And with that, she turned and strode out of the bedroom.

He stood there in shock, his eyes staring down at the papers on the bed. Tears shimmered in them as he fought his temper. In a moment of decisiveness, he turned and ran after her. Catching her in the hallway, he grabbed her wrist and turned her to face him.

"What?! What do you want?" she screamed struggling with his grip.

Staring her down, he asked, "Why did he tell you?" She looked back at him, and he continued in rage, "Why did he do it? Why? Why? WHY?"

"I don't know!" she yelled, breaking his grasp and stepping away. "Because he saw something in me, perhaps. And maybe I see something in him!"

"What's that supposed to mean?" he inquired suspiciously, his voice letting out a distinct hiss in his anger. "He worked for the enemy, Kris!"

"So did you! And I don't care that he worked for Magneto!" she screamed in reply. "It was ten years ago, Jet! Why should I hold that against him?"

"Because he hurt people!" he shouted so roughly that his voice shook her in shock. Seething, he breathed, "He hurt you."

She froze, her eyes boring into his in indignation and suspicion. "What do you mean?" There was a moment as Jet took control of himself, and he shook his head.

"Do you not get the feeling that you guys have met before now? That there is some strange familiarity and connection between the two of you?" He questioned. Kris nodded ever so softly, unsure if she truly wanted him to continue. "It's because you have met. When Magneto kidnapped you and put in those bloody implants, David was there the whole time. He was the one who filled you with anti-venom day and night so that you could go for hours without it during the operations. He was the one who kept you locked up in your room. In his amazing 'genius,'" Jet let out in contempt, "he was the one who conceived of the idea of experimenting with the implants. It was his notion, his work, his scientific talent that assisted in making you bear those scars on your wrist for the rest of your life."

"No, he didn't," she screamed in disbelief and horror, tears hanging in her eyes. "You are the one who gave me this." With that she clutched her wrist and held it close to her chest. "He would have told me. He would have recognized me. I never sensed that he was hiding it from me."

"Kris, he was the one that suggested that Magneto use his own flesh and blood," Jet cried in rage, gesturing at Kris.

Swinging out a fist, she brought it down against his jaw, screaming, "Don't say that! He's not my father. None of this is true." Clutching at her hair in frustration and disbelief, she repeated amid tears, "It's not true! It's not true!"

Rubbing his aching jaw, Jet whispered, "I'm sorry, Kris."

Turning upon him in rage, she shouted, "Don't dare tell me you're sorry! You could care less how much this affected me. You want me to believe you, because that would mean I might just hate David. But I'm not going to. I still see something inside of him, and you will not take that away!"

"So you do care for him?" Jet nearly screamed in anger and jealousy.

"I don't know," she said honestly. "But that doesn't mean I don't care for you, Jet. I just care for him differently."

"You know that he will never return those feelings, those sentiments," he stated coldly. "You are nothing but a measly criminal, Kris. That doesn't impress him. He will never love you!"

"Get out of my sight!" she screamed, shoving him back. "I don't know why I ever came back."

It was a quiet night, and the weather was strangely moderate, so the students were taking a break from the winter and enjoying their first taste of spring. Likely a day like this would not grace them again for a number of weeks. Due to the lack of people in the mansion, David found his attention growing detached, and he soon discovered roaming the halls very tiresome. Heading down the stairs, he made his way absentmindedly into the kitchen where Tamiko and Bobby stood, leaning their elbows on the wooden counter, staring ahead mesmerized. Following their gaze, David laid eyes on Kris who stood on the far side of the kitchen, slowly tossing a garden salad with a pair of wooden spoons. She seemed unaware of their presence as she continued to rhythmically shift the green lettuce leaves in the bowl in front of her on the counter.

"She's been tossing that same salad for twenty-five minutes," Bobby whispered monotonously, his icy blue eyes unblinking.

Strangely unable to tear his eyes away from the constant movement of the spoons, David inquired in a hushed tone, "You've been timing her?"

Tamiko nodded slowly, mumbling an "mhmm", her red-streaked brown hair flowing like streams of water over her shoulders.

They stared in silence for nearly five minutes before David muttered, "It's somewhat hypnotizing, isn't it?" The other two muttered their agreement just as their attention was broken by a soft bamf from behind. The three of them started in surprise, and turned to meet Kurt's yellow eyes, which darted immediately to Kris.

Sighing, his tail dropped to the floor in exasperation, and he blinked his long lashes slowly as he asked, "How long has she been keeping this up?"

"About thirty minutes," Tamiko answered, habitually checking the blue watch around her wrist.

Sighing once again, Kurt shook his head and whispered, "So, she's cooking dinner. Something must be on her mind." They stared at him perplexed, and he quickly answered their gaze. "You see, when Kris is upset with something, she usually does one or more of these three things. She retreats to her room, writing or blaring her music. She starts singing to herself, or she will cook."

"What do you think may be wrong?" David asked with genuine concern, but he seemed completely aware of the answer. His blue eyes played about Kurt's face in worry and care.

But a voice cut through the hushed room, sharp and agitated. "Why don't you just mind your own business, Blacklight?!" David turned to look at a disgruntled Jet standing in the open doorway. His hair was strewn about his eyes and greasier than David had ever seen it, and he wore no shirt over his pale chest. His pants were wrinkled and frayed along the edges, his entire persona suggesting that he had been drinking heavily. The icy stare from Jet's bloodshot eyes stung David, and catching a bit of the air between, Bobby signaled to Tamiko, and both sidled silently from the room.

"Excuse me, Jet?" David asked softly, confused and very much taken aback.

"I said," Jet shouted, "piss off!" Stepping toward him, Jet suddenly appeared much taller than he really was, and David then noticed that his friend's fangs where extended and dripping with their toxic venom. Amid Jet's advances, Kris began to hum quietly to herself while moving from the salad to a heavy pot of boiling water on the stove, pretending not to hear them.

"Jet, what's the matter?" Kurt interrupted, stepping forward, his hands held out. "Have you been drinking?"

"Stay out of this, Nightcrawler!" Jet snapped, his tongue distinctly letting out a sharp hiss. Turning back to David, Jet pointed a slender finger at him and began to mutter to himself incoherently, "You--you... That's all... You're the reason behind all this--you--you are the reason she will not have me."

"Jet," David said, holding his hands up in defense. "What are you talking about?" Jet took another step forward, his fangs bared threateningly. Swallowing, David took a step backward, reasoning, "You need rest. You're drunk."

"Shut it!" Jet screamed angrily, letting his fist fly toward David's jaw. Moving quickly, David deflected his blow with his right forearm. Pulling back quickly, his fists in front of his face, Jet seemed more annoyed now, and shouted, "Damn you! You took her." And without any sort of warning, Jet sprang forward, his fangs flashing, ready to bury them into David's neck. The only thing David could do was immediately hold out his hands and fall backward onto the floor. In that moment, a splash of venom flew onto David's face at the same moment there occurred a large flash of light and an accompanying crash that echoed through the room.

Looking quickly around the room, Jet's face contorted in horror and he dashed from the room. David leaped to his feet the moment he was no longer weighed down, and he looked over to see Kris sprawled on the floor, wincing in pain. The pot of boiling water had fallen from the stove and apparently landed on Kris's shins the same moment she had fallen backward in surprise. Water drenched her capris, feet and shins, her skin already reddening due to the scalding temperatures.

Fighting to stand up although her legs did not seem to want to support her, she slapped the hardwood floor and screamed, "Dammit, David! I don't know what you just did but it scared the hell out of me." Her voice was stressed in pain as she continued to pull herself up. "I think you just blew up my fire or something! If you can't learn to control your powers, then you're going to get someone killed." Furrowing his brow in remorse and sympathy, he paced to her while wiping his face with his sleeve, kneeling down beside her.

After a moment, he whispered, "I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking." At this he leaned forward to examine her burnt legs, but Kris simply pushed herself away in a mixture of hostility and fear. She was trembling beyond measure, and David looked into her eyes in worried curiosity. She only averted her gaze, staring hard into the floor. "Let me help you," he said, reaching out his hands toward her legs.

Again, she backed away, commanding, "Don't come near me."

"Kris," he whispered, "please." She refused to look at him, her body shaking only more violently.

"Why didn't you and Jet tell me?" she pouted in a whisper, her voice trembling as she pulled back in pain.

"I thought I did tell you."

"Quit playing games, David," she shouted. At this, David bit down on his back teeth, pursing his lips in an uncomfortable shame. "I now know that it was you who—who aided in kidnapping me and making these damned implants."

At this, David's mouth suddenly fell open as his memory flooded back, the pieces finally falling into place. "Magneto's daughter?" he muttered quietly. "So, that was you?"

"You mean--you didn't know who I was?" Kris asked gently, at last meeting his eyes, hers now filling with tears from the pain.

In reply, David simply shook his head. "We think that Magneto may have done something to my memory, because I'm having trouble recognizing your face, your name. But only lately I've started remembering."

"Oh," Kris let out, guilt easing into her thoughts. "I guess he didn't do a very good job with that, because you seem to be remembering everything now."

"Sort of, but not completely," David whispered, his voice barely audible. " I--I'm sorry. I was--a teenager then--and... I didn't really—I thought I was working for the good guys."

"Yeah, Magneto can be like that. He's such a self-righteous, pompous ass." A moment, and she let out, "Sorry. I need to start watching my language." Another pause, the agony in her legs becoming unbearable. "You have to understand something though—I'm not really his daughter," she said gently.

"You're not? But Magneto always seemed so sure," he inquired quietly.

"I don't care how sure he seemed. I'll never believe it," she let out defiantly, watching as he looked down at her burnt legs that pained beyond measure.

"Hold still for a moment," he whispered decisively, stretching out his hands. Placing them on her scalded legs, she stared in awe as his fingers and palms dissolved into a cool shadow that quickly cooled her wounds. After a long moment, his hands regained their form and he asked, "Is that better?"

Giggling, she said in a pout, "Yes, daddy." They both laughed, and she asked, "Is that the other side of your power. You can dissolve into shadow." He nodded. "Light and shadow," she muttered, "that's pretty cool."