Thanks to:
Todd Fan – Random killing is damn fun! I always knew I'd let Jean and Rogue live but I never planned on killing Kitty – it just happened. And I wanted to leave some characters ambiguous – maybe dead, maybe not, but no one knows unless they turn up later.
LadyEvils – I plan to have the Logan/ X23 confusion go on for a while. I don't want her with the X-Men until she has a chance to enjoy freedom. You think I write Jean well? Thanks! I love writing Jean, she can be so different under different circumstances and she's so much fun! Remy is so strangely portrayed in the comics that you never know if he's a bad guy gone good, a bad guy pretending to be good or a good guy with a lot of hard choices. What I do know is that he is a bit self-obsessed so I thought that would carry over! He's hard to do in serious fics, especially if familiar with his comic-verse history and possible future comic-verse history (sometimes I curse myself for being so up to date with those!) And this chapter features seven word pages of Lance! Enjoy!
Sangofanatic – More Mystique next chapter – this one on what goes on in the Velocity. Nah, Rogue being freaked doesn't make you bad…she spends so much time like that in Evo anyway ;)
Ishandahalf – Changing the group dynamics right here! I actually feel really sorry for Rogue – the world and her adoptive mother dying then finding out she's unable to touch and she might have sped up Irene's death on top of having Irene's powers – that would suck. Except for having Remy to perv at of course ;) You know you're the second person to describe Remy as 'slimy' in a review? Just what I was going for so that's good! And I'm updating like a bunny on crack because of Easter break – after this you might find them a little slower.
Minnaloushe – I didn't want to make it too much of an ordeal for Jean to use Cerebro as I read somewhere (maybe in a comic book) that telepathy wasn't necessary to work Cerebro although it helped (can you imagine the cups they must drink from in the Institute?) I've never seen a TV show called Lost although it might be on in the UK later in the year (as is usually the case) The kinda-forcefield! I'd forgotten about that. Who survived and who didn't was pretty random but it's good to know that there might be reasons behind it that I didn't see ;) Although I think that Kitty's powers couldn't save her from a virus (as seen on Evo and something I've considered as to the nature of her powers) and Emma's might not be able to (I really didn't realise what a discussion on her powers I opened when I casually mentioned Emma – she was just some one I had no plan to use and knew enough about her powers to drop it into conversation) I'm thinking of some Jean romance in the future although who with is not yet decided – I've never done Jean /Logan before so there's a challenge, although Jean/ Lance is a favourite. And with Jean, something's got to give, especially when the Institute fills with people. OMG, you are so right about Evo Rogue/ Scarlet Witch although I never saw it before – I think I just took a dislike to their alternate dimension son Magnus (who looked exactly like X-Man). And if Sinister bothers the dead, it's not to resurrect them – not what I've got in mind right now anyway although that might change. The Piotr comment cracked me up BTW and in the next chapter I may go outside the US briefly, I had a good idea for a plot that would involve that, which I partly wrote last night. I nearly put a Havok mention in the last chapter except I haven't decided if he's alive or not yet! Mystique will bother about Kurt at some point although when I'm not saying (ain't I mean?) X23 turns up for a while here. Oh, and get well soon! Flu sucks.
TheDreamerLady – A long time ago I got the X-Man comics as a result of some of the stuff he was in being unmissable, but his own comics were a bit silly – way Gary-Stu. You get him mixed up with Cable because they are the same guy! Sort of. Cable is the son of Scott and Madeline (Jean's clone) and Nate (X-Man) is the son of alternate universe Scott and Jean (and neither of them knew about him, think they still have to pay child support?) Oh, and I've given Cain a girl in another fic and he still trashed the mansion! Although it was an accident. And I hadn't even thought of Graydon! If he turns up here (a probability) you take credit for it! No Avengers butler here, trust me on this. He was so weak! Jean's trying to take everything into her stride but everyone's got to give sooner or later. Not that she's not strong but I think she tries too hard. It's in her nature but it's not necessarily a good thing all the time…
Furygrrl – I got plans for (topless – can't help myself!) Lance, Sam and X23. Heh, manage a trios, that would rule. Shameful…but it has PB's brain working overtime! Never be able to go to the library again! Cerebro was kinda hard because I've never thought about it much with anyone but the Prof and I thought that Jean should be able to use it but not without effects, hence the discomfort she had. Rogue never did finish reading the letter, so if there's anything else in there it's all Remy's to find out…And Rogue is going to have other troubles as well as Irene and Remy but because she's not in this chapter you have to wait! When I first got into X-Men I was really into the Romy thing but there's only so much of it you can take and now I find it kinda boring. You like the review responses above? Your wish is my command – well, as long as it suits me. I like them above as well but they were so long last time I sometimes just want to get to the story! And Juggy – in recent X-Men comics he's buried the hatchet with Chuck (and not in his back) and has joined the X-Men. Will that happen in a PB fic? Uh…no. Trust me, you'll like it! And it should be in three or four chapters. Would have been sooner but I had a flash of inspiration and added another chapter and I don't know where it will take me. Said flash will be the beginning of the next chapter. As to Sinister, I think I'll put him in a whole new direction. Neither Summers not Grey. It'll all become clear! I did plan Alex in the villains chapter but…I still haven't decided if he's alive or dead so I thought I'd leave it.
Rogue14 – I might have been a gay guy! Although there would have been less hetero stuff I guess. No that I get impure thoughts about Remy a lot – well OK, I do! I tend to ignore world leaders because they all piss me off so much, there's a general election in six weeks and I know no matter who I vote for it will make no difference at all. I voted once, never again. I ended up much worse off and I will again. At least you can write cool anti-bush songs! To be honest, Sinister will not be focusing on the dead but it is a possibility I could play with ;)
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The kid wanted feeding every four hours. He would wake up and give his 'hungry' cry, different to the 'dirty' cry or the 'windy' cry. Lance wasn't sure when he got to realise the difference, only that he knew them and he was too tired to care when he realised. There was something to be said for eight hours of unbroken sleep – not that he was likely to know what that was like for a while yet.
"OK kid," he said as he gave the baby some formula he had prepared in foresight of being woken. "Here's your bottle. But this book says you have to sleep through the night soon."
He lay back against the pillows he had liberated from a local shop, the baby sucking greedily at the bottle. He couldn't blame the kid for insisting on food – how long had he gone without? But Lance would give anything for just one night of unbroken rest. He had remained in the library, figuring it an unlikely target for looters but equipped with everything he needed. A table to rest the camping stove on, a toilet, books on baby care. God knew he needed those. He'd rescued a stash of Pampers from a supermarket, formula from the chemist and food and water for himself. They were set up in this place.
It might be nice to talk to some one who had mastered the language though. Some one who had an opinion. Some one to talk to. Lance had never been much of a reader and the lack of sleep was making it harder for him to concentrate on anything.
When he heard the 'copter outside, he thought he was dreaming.
He started, assuming he had fallen asleep while feeding the kid – all the books warned against that. But if anything, the sound grew louder and he convinced himself he was awake.
"What the hell…"
He didn't move, the kid resting comfortably against his chest and gorging on the bottle, but his ears strained for the noise. There was definitely some kind of aircraft nearby. Maybe because the town was so quiet he could hear it better.
Why was there an aircraft?
In a world where cars were useless, aircraft had to be the ultimate way to get about. The only people who knew how to fly were those rich enough to take lessons…or those taught by the authorities. Lance had an overwhelming dislike of the authorities. They had put him into care in the first place, arrested him when he got into trouble, bothered him when he was only thinking about causing problems. Now they were on his doorstep.
Stay or go?
There was no way they could know he was there. The doors had the caved in look from where he had avalanched them open but most of the buildings around here were broken into. There were no lights and no outward signs he was there.
Still, his instinct was to run. He quashed the thought. That was panic talking. If everyone were dead, how would the pilot even know where he was? It was probably a lone survivor trying to find others.
At the thought of company, Lance debated going out to attract attention and decided against it. He didn't want to attract the wrong kind of attention. For the time being, it was safer to remain alone.
The sound of the copter died and he gave a sigh of relief. End of problem. He was too late to get attention, meaning he didn't have to worry what kind of attention he got. The matter was taken out of his hands.
The kid was getting sleepy and Lance took the bottle from his mouth, carefully putting him into the Moses basket beside him. He might not be getting much sleep and this was not the way he had envisioned spending time when he hit eighteen, but the kid gave purpose to his life. With nothing left to do, he might have wandered aimlessly forever but now he had a goal, a resolve. He wasn't much in the daddy stakes, but he was all this kid had and he was determined to be better than his own father had been. The kid was going to need certain skills to get by in a decimated world and Lance was going to give them to him. Even if it did mean another few months of sleepless nights.
He had fallen into a doze when he heard the voices outside.
Lance sat up suddenly, listening hard, unsure if he was dreaming or not. But he was sure he heard voices outside.
"Two scents in here." The voice was deep, almost snarly. "Both live."
"I can sense two brainwaves," said the second voice, higher, female. "This must be where Lance Alvers is."
Lance panicked. They knew his name and where he was. There was no way this could be a good thing. He stood up, checking on the kid, still sleeping. Then he walked to the doors, determined to defend his territory and the kid. Or die trying.
"We don't wanna spook him." The girl again, right outside the door. "Let's just tell him what we're about and where we are, then he can come to us willingly if he wants."
"It'd be better if he came with us," replied the man. "If he has a kid like you say, we've got the best facilities to deal with that."
Lance's overtired brain couldn't make too much of the exchange. All that he knew was that there were people threatening his territory. He rolled his eyes back in his head and let loose an earthquake that would knock them both off their feet and make them think twice about approaching the library.
When the tremors died down he rested his head against the door. Great. Now he was fighting a headache on top of the lack of sleep.
"Has it finished?" The girl's voice, uncertain.
"Yeah." The man. "Set us down."
Lance scowled. His earthquake hadn't put them off – he couldn't reconcile the words "set us down" to his knowledge of the world. Fine. He would reveal himself and show them what he could do. And when they ran away in terror, he would run too and take the kid with him.
Oh, but he was tired and his head ached.
He forced open the warped library door and faced the people outside. Part of him had expected a SWAT team; the type he had always imagined would greet him if anyone discovered his powers. Instead there was a short man with a frown on his face and a tall girl with red hair. Both of them looked at him as if they recognised him.
"Go away." Lance's voice was stronger than he had thought it would be. "Or else I'll bury you!"
"Lance, wait!" The redhead made an imploring gesture. "We want to help you!"
"Help me?" Lance laughed. "Sure you do. Get out of here."
"You have powers," said the redhead. "You can do things that no one else seems able to do. And now everyone else is gone, you don't know what to do! But we're like you, we have powers too!"
Lance snorted. "Sure you do Red. You've got five seconds to get out of here before I bury you."
"Wait. Watch."
The redhead glanced at a bench set beside the library, quite heavy with its steel settings. Before Lance's tired eyes, it began to shudder. He forgot all about his five second warning as he watched the bench. It rose in the air and flew at a nearby wall, the wooden seat dislodging as it hit.
Lance gave her a look of frank wonder. "How did you do that?"
"The same way you make the earth move. I just know how. We mean you no harm, can we please come in and speak to you?"
"Speak to me out here." Lance wasn't sure about what the girl could do but he didn't want to put the kid into danger if he could avoid it.
But if he were killed…the kid would suffer a worse death. Dehydration, starvation.
The man kept his distance but the girl approached him with no qualms. "My name is Jean. Jean Grey."
"So?"
"I have powers too – I'm a telepath. And this is Logan. He has a healing factor. We're – well, we hope to bring survivors together."
"Why?"
The question seemed to surprise her. "Because it's horrible being alone. Because people need people. There are so few survivors that we should all stick together."
"How do I know that you're genuine?" Lance clenched his fists. "How do I know this isn't some plot to get the people with the powers together?"
Jean shook her head. "I guess you'll just have to trust us. We live in the Xavier Institute in New York. We have light and heat and food. There are four of us living there already and we're tracking survivors."
"How are you tracking survivors?"
Jean looked uncomfortable. "The Institute was originally meant for people with powers. The founder, Professor Xavier, thought that if he could train us to better use our powers then we'd be less likely to lose control of them and hurt people and when the normal humans found out about us we'd be safe. The Professor was a telepath and he made a device that allowed him to find other mutants. That's how we found you – I used it to see if I could find other people. You were the first person it found."
Lance ran a hand through his hair and tried to think. Should he trust Jean and Logan, who had yet to say anything to him, or did he tell them to leave and hope they didn't try to force him to go with them?
Inside the library, the kid let out a wail. The 'windy' cry, which meant he was in pain. Lance hesitated, wanting to go and sort it out but not wanting to let these two out of his sight or be holding the kid should a fight break out.
…Go see to the baby. We'll wait here if you want…
Lance glanced at Jean. "You said that without moving your mouth."
"I told you, I'm a telepath. Take care of the baby and we'll wait."
"Uh…OK."
Lance went inside and put the kid over his shoulder, vaguely hoping there would be no puke this time. As he rubbed the kids back, he thought about what the pair had said. They seemed genuine enough but Lance had learned the hard way in the past that what people seemed to be and what they were weren't always the same thing.
He wandered over to the door again and peeked out. Jean was talking to Logan in a low voice but Lance could make out that they were having a discussion about car seats.
"You need the newborn seat by the sound."
"I don't think that car seats are meant for use in the Velocity."
"We can rig something up. If Lance does decide to come, we'll need something to transport the baby in."
The conversation actually made Lance feel better. It didn't sound like they were planning to kidnap him if he turned them down and they were thinking about the kid's safety. Maybe he would be doing both of them a favour if he went along. If he didn't like it, he could always leave again.
He walked out of the door, baby still over his shoulder. "There's a baby shop three blocks over. You can get a car seat from there. Make sure it's a good one though."
Jean smiled. "Does that mean you're going to come with us?"
"Just don't try anything funny. And I'll need help to bring the kids stuff."
"I'll go get a seat," said Logan gruffly. "Meet you at the Velocity."
Jean gave him a curious look. "He's so little – how much stuff could he need?"
"Trust me, they need loads of stuff. I never realised until I looked in the book and it…"
"BWERP!"
"Thanks kid."
Jean's lips twitched as she tried not to laugh. "You want me to hold the baby while you change your shirt?"
"Uh…" Lance debated the wisdom of letting some stranger hold the kid, then decided it might be a good test. With Logan nowhere in sight, it would be easier to take her down if she tried anything. "Here. You have to keep a hand under his head."
"I know. My sister has two…" A look of pain flashed across her face and she forced the thought away as she took the kid from Lance. "So, does he have a name?"
"Not yet. Couldn't think of anything." Lance had seen the look on her face as she remembered her family and decided not to mention it. "Come inside."
"You've been living in here?" Jean looked around at the library, taking in the set up. "Pretty smart. It's cool in here and light and it's not somewhere looters would think of looking."
"It was an accident really," replied Lance, digging out a brand new T-shirt he had liberated from a shop and pulling off the tags. He pulled off the old one, trying not to get baby puke in his hair. "I needed some help finding out what to do about the kid. There's all kinds of books about it."
"I'd be lost knowing what to do with a baby," admitted Jean, smiling down at the kid and pulling a face at him. "I've always been able to give them back when they do something gross."
"I've never even been this close to one before," admitted Lance, shrugging on the new shirt. "I didn't know they puked so much. This is my fourth change of clothes in twelve hours!"
"Is there a bag or something we can put this stuff in?" Jean looked at the tiny clothes, nappies, bottles, sterilisation units, wipes, talc, cream – her head was beginning to spin. "Is all this stuff necessary?"
"You wouldn't think anything so small could need so much crap, but he does." Lance left Jean holding the kid while he grabbed a sports bag from underneath the true crime shelf and beginning to shove things in it. "What's this Velocity you were talking about before?"
"It's the plane we came in. It belongs to the Institute…what's that?"
Lance looked embarrassed as he strapped the baby carrier to his chest. "It's to carry the kid in. See, I needed to go to shops and stuff but I couldn't use a pram because of all the crap lying around in the street so I got this. Give him here."
Jean passed over the baby, slightly bemused at the sight of the scruffy teen with a baby strapped to his chest. "I'll take the bag. Got everything?"
"Think so." Lance watched as Jean used her powers to levitate the bag in the air. "That's freaky."
"So I've been told."
They left the library, Jean telling Lance about the Xavier Institute, mentioning the generator and their ability to cook and take hot showers – Lance seemed particularly happy to hear about the last one – but not quite sure what to say about Mystique and Todd. She skirted over the issue, telling him about their powers and saying that Todd was "real nice, a bit quiet" and not saying anything about Mystique's personality. She warned him that Logan was "temperamental" and advised him not to get on the mans bad side.
The streets were so quiet. In the distance she could hear a dog howling, but had the usual background noise been there – voices, cars, music from out of shops or TV's from out of houses – she wouldn't have been able to. The background noise that she heard within her own head in spite of her shields had dwindled to the muted awareness of Lance and Logan, the latter too far away to know anything except for his presence. It was the first time she had been out of the mansion and Logan had been right – she hadn't realised the true enormity of what the disease had done. The sheer emptiness of the mid-sized town made her nervous so she filled the silence with chatter, trying not to dwell on the noise that should have been there, their footsteps echoing, their voices sounding as sacrilegious as laughter in a morgue. She wondered if Lance thought of her as vapid or silly, in love with the sound of her own voice, but she couldn't stop talking. To be quiet would allow silence to reign and if she had to cope with that for long, she'd go insane. She wondered how Lance had stood living in the dead town, alone save for the kid, for as long as he had.
When they got back to the Velocity, Lance was impressed and more than a little nervous. He'd never been in a plane of any sort before, let alone one fully equipped with weapons. Logan was inside already, struggling to affix a baby seat in the back.
"Hey Logan," said Jean. "How's it going?"
"Putting a baby seat in the Velocity. I've hit a new low." Logan glanced over at Lance and smirked when he saw the baby strapped to his chest. "That's real cute."
Lance refrained from snapping at him and put the kid into the seat. "Is this safe?"
"Yeah, I fixed it."
"Good." Lance strapped the kid in and sat in the seat beside it while Logan and Jean sat in the cockpit and went through the take off preparations.
"We're going to Kentucky first," explained Jean as she flicked on the power. "I picked up another mutant signature from there. Then we need to stop somewhere else – I found a weird reading and we just want to check it out. Then we can go back to the Institute. I hope that…"
"Uh, Jean." Logan indicated to the back of the Velocity. Jean turned to see Lance already asleep, head resting against the window. "I think he'll sleep through Kentucky unless the kid wakes up."
"If the kid wakes up, I'll deal with him," said Jean. "He looks wiped."
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Pietro was bored.
Wanda was still asleep, sprawled on a bale of hay in a barn. There were houses in the area that they could have stayed in, but the first one they had tried…it had been bad. Wanda hexed the door open and the stench had hit them like a live thing, knocking them both back. Pietro had gone rather too quickly and found himself four hundred metres from the house. Wanda had gone green and puked. After that they had decided; no more houses. From now on they would stick to places they could be sure didn't contain any decaying remains.
They'd been sleeping outdoors a lot. Fortunately the weather had been pleasant enough to allow it. The barn was an improvement; the hay surprisingly comfortable and they both felt more secure sleeping within walls, no matter how little protection they gave.
But now Pietro was awake and restless and Wanda showed no sign of waking any time soon.
He glanced out of the barn door, then back over his shoulder at his sister. Part of him thought he should be there when she woke up – she didn't like letting him out of her sight – but he decided he was fast enough to look around, maybe grab something for breakfast and be back before she opened her eyes.
He sped out of the barn and just ran, enjoying being able to use his powers. There was something liberating about speed, the way his mind was free of all the bullshit of everyday existence and his entire focus was on the early morning sun, the breeze he created by running. There was no one to see him, not much to avoid. This was freedom.
They had settled for the night a long way from any major town and the houses were widely spaced. It took Pietro almost three minutes to reach a shop, a convenience store that sold a bit of everything. He pushed at the door and found it unlocked, a definite bonus. And there seemed to be no corpses, which was even better. The only smell in the air was spoiled food. Not pleasant but better than decaying people.
Whistling loudly, he grabbed a basket and began picking through the shelves. Tinned hot dogs, those could be eaten cold – neither he nor Wanda had thought of finding a camping stove. He grabbed several cans off the shelf and continued his search. Deodorant. Hair gel, because you never knew whom you'd run into and it wouldn't do for him to be looking anything less than perfect. Some tins of beans. He checked the bread and found it mouldy, so he left it. Spotting a magazine rack nearby, he perused the titles. Wanda might like one of the girlier titles and he could certainly do with a distraction from the taste of cold hot dogs and beans…
A noise behind him made him turn around. His first confused thought was that he was seeing things. But blinking hard didn't make the image go away.
There were people everywhere. Behind the counter, blocking the door, staring at him.
He was trapped.
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Suicide.
Sam had never entertained the thought before. When he read about people who took their own lives he thought of them as selfish or weak, refusing to believe that their life could be that bad. Suicide was the ultimate cop-out, tearing apart those left behind to pick up the pieces, leaving too many unanswered questions and not giving life the chance to improve.
But there was no one left to mourn him if he died, no way for life to get better. He was all alone in a world of the dead and the thought of waking up day after day and finding that nothing had changed made him weary.
The dreams didn't help. Every time he closed his eyes his family were there, begging him to help them, make them better, do something. But he hadn't been able to help them and he was beginning to believe that his only option was joining them.
His parents had never had a gun in the house, believing that it was too dangerous with all the children they had. But there was a shop nearby where he had picked one up, telling himself that it was for protection – but since he got it he had been obsessively loading and unloading it, the thought of suicide never far from his mind. So far it was only a notion, but the thought grew stronger with every passing day.
He was playing with the gun again when he heard the plane. He froze, wondering what the hell was going on. He hadn't heard so much as a car since realising he was all alone in the town and a plane was just…
A plane meant people.
Sam leapt up and headed for the door, wondering if he could attract attention by jumping up and down and waving. Maybe if he could get the altitude – his brothers and sisters hadn't called him 'Rocket Ass' because of what his digestive system produced after beans on toast. Surely the pilot would see a teenager blasting through the air with his ass on fire.
When he went out and looked at the sky, he could see the plane flying low, a military style craft rather than a commercial jet or a private plane. His resolution wavered. He'd heard of planes with autopilot – what if there was no one flying the plane and it was just the computer? What if the reason it was so low was because it had finally run out of fuel and it was about to crash?
He realised he still had the gun in his hand and tightened his grip on it. Just in case he thought. There was no telling if anyone was on the plane and how friendly they were if there was Although the craft could be holding a convention of mass murderers and religious fanatics and he'd still offer them coffee and read all their tracts. He was desperate for company.
As he hesitated on the porch, the plane dipped still further and made a perfect landing in a field over the road from the Guthrie house. Sam remembered a book he had read as a child, about men in the desert who saw mirages and thought they were swimming with pretty ladies in bikinis. His dad had read the book to him and Elizabeth and his sister had laughed…
He slammed the door on that thought and hesitantly made his way over to the craft. The hatch had been lowered, steps leading from the exit to the ground, but Sam saw no one. He could hear them though, voices within the plane having some sort of argument.
"Just hold him for a moment."
"No way darlin. Not gonna happen."
"I can't go outside with him!"
"So wake up the Richter Scale back there. It's his kid."
"It's not his kid, he just found it. Besides. He looks like he hasn't slept in days."
"That's what happens when you have kids. I'll talk to the boy."
"But you're, uh, not the best person to do that."
"No way am I holding…"
"Logan!"
"Oh fine. But don't blame me if I break it."
Sam frowned. On the few occasions he had wondered about meeting other people, he hadn't expected them to arrive by plane and have an unfathomable argument.
"Uh…hello?" He called up to the plane and the voices went momentarily quiet. He waited for a moment and then a teen girl appeared in the exit. She was at least as tall as him with long red hair and a somewhat uncertain smile.
"Uh, hello. You must be Sam."
"Yeah, how did you know?"
"We can talk about it but first, would you mind putting the gun down?"
Sam glanced down and noticed he was still gripping the gun tightly. He threw it aside, figuring she wasn't much of a threat. If she decided to try something, he could blast through her and he was invulnerable while using his powers so anything she did try would be useless.
"Thanks." The girl smiled and floated down to the ground. "I'm Jean Grey."
"Did you just fly?"
"Yes." Jean gave him a comforting smile. "I know you have special gifts and I have them too. Before everyone got sick I lived in a place where I could learn to use and control my gifts. We still live there and we thought if we got more people together then we could be…well, less alone."
"Where is this place?"
"Bayville, New York."
"That far away? But…my family…"
"Your family? Is some one still alive?"
Sam looked at the floor and shook his head. "No. They all…they're all gone. But I can't just leave them here."
Jean stepped forward and took his hand. "Sam, I know it's hard. I don't know where my parents are, if they're alive or not. The people at the Institute were my surrogate family and I buried them in the garden. Every time I think about it I don't know if I want to hide or cry or find God and slap his face for taking them from me. I'm mad at them for leaving me alone to cope without them. But I have been left to go on without them and I have to find a way to keep going. So do you. And the hardest thing is being alone. Not just living alone or being in a strange town where you don't know anyone but physically being alone and knowing you may never see the face of another living person. That's why we're finding survivors and trying to get them together, partly for their sanity and partly for ours. I was left alone for just a couple of days and I thought I was losing my mind. I can't make you come with us. If you want to stay here then I'll leave you the address of the Institute and we'll be out of here. You can find us later on or you can pretend we were never here. But if you want to try for some semblance of normality, as much as we can get from the world after what's happened, then come with us. I don't promise that we'll all get on, that we'll be a big happy family, but it's better to try that than to be left all alone again."
Sam met her eyes. They seemed sincere. He still had some misgivings – how had she found him and how did she know his name? – but he pushed them aside. She was the first person he had seen since Josh, the last of his siblings, died. He had seemed to be getting better right up to the moment where he stopped breathing. He had been going slowly out of his mind left alone, the memory of his family haunting him, the only things he could think of recrimination and suicide. Maybe this wasn't the smart thing to do but it offered him some hope of reprieve.
"I'll need to get some stuff."
"I know." Jean smiled and patted his shoulder. "Would you like some help?"
"Nah. I won't be long. There are clothes shops in Bayville, right?"
"Uh, sure."
"Then all I need is a few personal things."
"I'll wait right here for you. Take as long as you need. Then I can introduce you to Logan and Lance…maybe not Lance, he's still asleep. We've one more stop to make before Bayville but I don't think we'll take long."
"Sure." Sam headed back toward the only home he had ever known, realising he may never see it again. A part of him wanted to spend some time going through the rooms, trying to memorise every detail so he could remember it properly. The more sensible part of him knew that what had made this place his home was his family and now they were gone it was cold, somewhere to spend the rest of his life getting lonelier, sadder, more and more depressed. Except that now he didn't, because he had been given a reprieve.
His momma kept the photo albums in a box in the hall closet and from time to time the Guthrie children would take them out and laugh at their younger selves. Now Sam grabbed the box and put it in the porch, running back only to grab Paige's worn stuffed Garfield and an inexplicable but beautiful red feather he had spied beneath Josh's bed before saying silent goodbyes to the homestead and leaving for an unknown future in Bayville.
&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&
X23 was on the move.
Much as she had enjoyed lazing around doing nothing, there was only so long one could look at the clouds. She was hungry, thirsty and well rested. The only thing to do now was to forage. There were creatures in the trees that could make a meal for her but she ignored them – she wasn't an animal after all.
Risman had talked about shops on occasion, when Madame Hydra hadn't been around to hear. Shops were where things came from. You could exchange cash for anything from clothes to food to…well, anything.
She wasn't sure what cash was but if she could find a shop maybe she could find out. Shops were buildings like the Hydra facility. On one of her training missions when she had been ordered to blend in with other children, Risman had taken her into a shop and bought her a chocolate bar on the strict understanding that she told no one else about it. The guards with them had chosen to look the other way, neither of them begrudging a little girl something so simple. So she knew pretty much what she was looking for and was aware from what the doctor had said before she died that there were few people around any more. Maybe she could go into a shop and just take what she wanted without having to worry about the whole 'cash' thing. And if there was some one around to complain – well, she didn't have to hurt anyone. She could be in and out without doing anyone any harm. All she needed was something to eat and some water.
She had been deep in the woods and it was some miles before she got back to a beaten track, several more miles before she arrived at a shop. When the Velocity arrived at where she had been, she was long gone.
"I knew I screwed up," said Jean in disgust as she scanned the area telepathically.
Logan said nothing. There had been a person in the area not long before, but the scent was indistinct, faded. He could track it…but that would mean explaining to Jean that he knew someone had been there and they had two unknown kids in the Velocity, three of you counted the baby. They had no idea who it was who had been there and where they had gone. Maybe it was best to ignore the scent and get back to the mansion.
Beside, Mystique and Todd had been alone long enough.