A tall, shapely redhead joined the short, burly man and the petite, almost boyishly slender girl making their way down the hallway, as a few others decided to take their turn in the Danger Room.
"So how did your new getup serve you?" Jean asked.
"Well, it moves with me quite well. I like how the built-in reinforcements replace the plastron and the chest guard. Und Herr Drake," Kassandra said to Iceman in a voice to rival his own abilities, "you can refrain from wondering why I'd need one of those."
Logan smirked as they walked past. Bobby Drake imagined himself to be the wittiest of the X-Men, and quite frankly, often had most everyone wishing he'd just freeze his mouth shut.
"Anyway," Kassandra continued, as they entered the War Room, "the long coat is perfect for giving a point to my concealed weapons permit. And it seemed to protect me quite well. The shrapnel didn't do any worse than sting when it hit. Altogether, I like it, danke.
"And, Warren, Logan, Jean, now that we're all here, let's shut the door and convene immediately."
"Does Xavier know about this?" Jean asked.
"I've allowed him to check in on me, of course. But no. Not about this specific operation. Jean, we need you to guard all our thoughts. There may come a time when we will need to reveal records of this conference and what is said here," said Kassandra. "But until a subpoena says otherwise, not a word or thought about this leaves this room.
"Since you encountered this group at what appeared to be their headquarters in Montana, Kurt's sustained partial memory loss of a nature I'm beginning to understand. And since then, my mission has been compromised. Most of my agents have disappeared. A few are already dead. A few have exfiltrated, but it is all too likely they'll eventually be rolled up, too. I am afraid there is a connection. The reason why Kurt survived the attack on him, and why any of my agents are still alive, is because this group has plans for all of them."
"You have new operatives, right?" asked Logan.
"His Holiness and the cardinals are in good hands, Logan. However, I could not get new agents. At least no more directly answerable to me. If I did, I'd put more people in more danger. And that's also why I have to leave tonight."
SNIKT! Wolverine's claws instinctively shot out. They were no longer threatening phantoms like Angelique Sauvegarde or Elizabeth Errol-Koenig.
"Yes, Logan," said Kassandra, "my covers are completely blown."
"That's why they stole Kurt's memories!" said Jean.
"Partially. I'm not in any terrible danger yet, despite the fact that I've inconvenienced them terribly. No, they have some use for me, too."
Logan stood and slammed a clawed fist on the table. "Then why aren't we rescuing your agents? Why aren't you in hiding? Why aren't your fed buddies helping? And why, dammit, won't you let Xavier know?"
"BECAUSE!" Kassandra leapt up and stared Logan down as best as her 5 foot 1 inch frame could allow. "With the complete fiasco brewing in Europe, and the fact that these people will soon bring the battle to New York, you are going to have more than enough to do. I, on the other hand, have to get them when, where, and how they least expect it. And Charles has been under the microscope since going public. He cannot have anything to do with this."
"And," interrupted Archangel, "'the last thing we need is future Timothy McVeighs imagining that mutantkind is teaming up with the federal government for the sole purpose of persecuting anti-mutant religious minorities.' Logan, I don't like sending her into this alone any more than you do. But based on the information she's sent me, I think she knows what she's doing."
"Danke, Warren. And while I appreciate your desire to help me, it is precisely for that reason that I must handle this alone. And I really shouldn't even wear the X." Kassandra removed the belt buckle from her uniform. "Nobody must think the X-Men or the federal government are responsible for what's likely to happen. If anyone gets hurt or killed in this operation, I have to take the fall."
"But Worthington and I tangled with these people before. We know what they can do. They aren't like the sentinels, kid. They've got this kamikaze thing going."
"I know." Kassandra tried to sound reassuring, but her voice and an unfamiliar scent gave her away. The few times he'd seen her go into battle, he smelled grim determination on her. This time, it was indeed different. However worried Wolverine was about her….
"Warren," Jean thought. "Kassandra cannot say this or Logan will pitch an even bigger fit. But before you get back from Paris, we need you to try and talk Jubilee into returning with you. She's under the false impression that she's safe with X-Corps."
"Logan," said Jean. "Kassi's already afraid. More than you are. And not of what they might do to her."
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That medal. Kurt knew it wasn't among the few things he had at the rectory. He rifled among the things he'd kept in storage here. Come to think of it, he didn't even recall having it when he returned from London. But Brian would have let him know if he'd left anything of his there.
Puzzling. He rifled through his things some more, and found a sword belt and sabre. Ah, yes. It had been a very long time since he had last seen this. Logan had it made for him. But what was that it said on its flat? "Epheser 6:10-17." Logan would not have thought to inscribe a Bible verse on it. Come to think of it, when Kurt thought of how he got that sword in the first place, his mind drew a complete blank. Strange, how it looked like a slightly longer version of Zeitgeist's weapon.
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As they left the War Room, Logan retracted his claws and grabbed Kassandra. "I'm sorry, kid. Not everyone can have my stomach for fighting. And that's one thing I never wanted to give you."
"You've been nothing but generous to me, Logan. But that killer instinct? I'm afraid I did not get that from you."
"And I think I know what scares you now, kid," said Wolverine. "I never got all it is that you and the Elf get out of your religion, but whatever it is, I think it'll help keep you human. And I don't think you'll really go into this or anything alone as long as you hang on to that."
Kassandra wrapped her arms around him and planted a peck on his grizzled cheek. "I'll remember that, Logan. Danke schön."
As they walked down the hallway, Nightcrawler dropped in on them. "Kassandra, Ich muß mit dir sprechen."
"I'll leave you two alone, then," said Wolverine.
"Tschüß, Logan!"
"No goodbyes, Little Elf! Just get back here safely and soon."
"Leaving so soon?" Kurt asked.
Kassandra sighed. "Ich muß."
"Would you mind if I walked with you to the hangar?"
Kassandra almost laughed. Why would she mind? "Nein. I'd like to talk with you, too."
"So why did Logan call you 'Little Elf?"
"Why do you think?"
"Warum 'Little Elf'? Is it because he thinks your abilities are similar to mine?"
"Ja, so könnte man es sagen." And because we've shared more than similarities, she was tempted to add.
"Oh," said Kurt, still not one hundred percent satisfied with the answer. "And the medal- I remember. You weren't just giving it to me. It really was mine. And the only way you could have ended up with it that makes any sense is if I had given it to you. I mean, how else would you know it was mine? But we only just met today, nicht wahr?"
Tears welled up in Kassandra's eyes. She blinked them away. "Kurt, Liebster, I hope you'll believe me and take this easily. But as it's said, the simplest explanation is usually correct."
This statement left Kurt more than a little befuddled. He'd have to think about what she meant by that later. "So would you like this back?"
"Nein, Kurt. Keep it, bitte. To remember me. Or at the very least hang onto it until I get back."
"And I'll look forward to when you do, Liebchen. Gehst und kommst du wieder mit eine steife Brise." Kurt briefly wondered about the Piratensprache he suddenly found himself speaking. Lately, he hadn't felt up to the daring swashbuckler role he used to enjoy so much. But for some reason, around her, he seemed to fall right back into it.
Kassandra surprised him again before she entered the hangar. She grinned and held up an imaginary cutlass in a salute. "Ja wohl, Käpt'n."
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