Many thanks to everyone who reviewed; I love you guys! All opinions are much appreciated, and please feel free to e-mail me about the story as well if you'd like.
Because a few people have indicated a complete lack of knowledge about the X-Men, I've included a basic explanation of the world's background. It's not precisely a 'canon' description, but I believe it is quite close to the original 'Marvel' background. Hope that it doesn't bore anyone who's already familiar with the X-Men to death.
* hugs Diena * As always, awesome job. ;)
* * * * * * *
Just over a hundred years before Lucas' birth, the first mutants were born. They were humans with extraordinary inborn powers, some useful, some not, and some downright dangerous. No two were ever born quite the same; one would have the ability to heal quickly, another would be able start fires with just a thought, and yet another would sprout wings during puberty. They went largely unnoticed at first; ignored, hidden, or explained away as miracles by the people who witnessed their powers. But more of them were born with every passing year, and before two decades had passed, they became impossible to ignore.
The governments of the world saw them as a new resource to exploit, and scientists saw them as fascinating new test subjects, but the average people of the world were split on the subject from the start. On the one hand, there were those who saw them as a step in human evolution, a hope for the future of mankind. On the other, there were those who saw them as a threat, interlopers whose goal was almost certainly the destruction of humanity.
Fortunately, those who feared mutants had very little to aim their fear at. The mutants of the early twentieth century were quite few and far between, and their powers were usually minor, gaining them little attention by the general public. They used their powers sparingly, most of them never comprehending how important or unusual they were.
By the early 1930's, though, mutants were becoming more powerful, and much more noticeable. The politicians of the word, sensing the oncoming trouble in Europe, made efforts to offer all known mutants contracts to work for their government. This was known as 'The Golden Era of Mutantkind', and was the only time that mutants as a whole had a good reputation with nearly all the world's humans.
When World War II finished in the mid-1940's, things changed very quickly for mutants. Those who had worked for Hitler's Third Reich were put on trial for war crimes, and were paraded before the world as 'the most horrific criminals the world had ever seen'. For the first time, people began to understand just what mutants could do under the wrong circumstances. Instead of remembering that perfectly normal humans, not mutants, had engineered the most horrible acts of the war, the people looked to the Nazi mutants for scapegoats.
With the 1950's came the cold war, and more reason to fear mutants. Many mutants kept on with their governments, and worked as agents in the war, killing thousands of people in the line of duty. Those who chose not to continue working for their governments went home, like all soldiers. Also like all soldiers, some of them had problems re-adjusting to life at home. Before long, the world had its first mutant criminals.
As humanity tends to do, people forgot about the service that mutants had done for their countries, and judged the whole on the actions of a few. The situation did not improve when the mutant known as Magneto surfaced, bringing with him a holy war against humanity. 'We must kill them,' he told mutants everywhere, 'before they kill us.' A very charismatic man taking advantage of a very ugly situation, Magneto soon had a considerable following among mutants. The decades passed, and the situation reached a standstill. Mutants continued to be societal outcasts, but were never ejected from society entirely.
Even in the modern age of 'enlightenment', mutants remained an enigma to humankind. No one ever determined why they existed, or whether their population would continue to grow in future generations. The debates still raged as to whether they were a step forward in human evolution or just accidents of nature, caused by pollution or other atmospheric conditions. There seemed to be no answers, and the mutants of the world waited and worried. They could only hope that eventually they would be able to retake their rightful places in society, that perhaps someday there would be no further need to hide.
* * * * * * *
Monday, April 28, 3:00 A.M.
An alley in downtown San Francisco
That was it, then.
He was a mutant.
It was the only answer, and it made perfect sense. He had heard of a mutant that could become intangible at will before. She was one of those 'X-Men' terrorists.
Great, just what he needed, to be compared to a terrorist, even if only by himself.
That certainly clinched a few things for him, though. He couldn't go back to the ship, or any other part of his old life, even if he suddenly became substantial again. He was still a mutant, and eventually that would come out if he went back. Better to be dead than to be a freak twice over. Being 'the boy genius' had been bad enough. Being 'the mutant freak/boy genius' would be worse than being dead. If his father ever found out… He tried not to shudder, thinking about that. He'd probably be disowned, and that would be the best possible option. Knowing his father, he'd probably take Lucas to one of his scientist friends, and try to have him 'fixed'.
Although he didn't want to be a mutant, he didn't even want to consider what they would put him through while trying to 'cure' him of it. It also seemed somehow distasteful to try to cure him of his own DNA. He may have been a freak twice over, but the idea of changing the fact that he was a mutant seemed almost like the notion of getting a lobotomy in order to fit in with other kids his own age.
His stomach gave a grumble, and he put a hand to it as if that would somehow soothe the sudden ache in his midsection. That was when he had a second epiphany. If he didn't figure out how to control his 'power', and soon, he would starve to death. He had heard that mutants were dangerous plenty of times, but he hadn't ever heard that being a mutant was dangerous.
How was he supposed to figure it out, though? It wasn't as if just because he knew what he was, the answers had suddenly all appeared in his head. Knowing that he was a mutant wasn't even half the battle.
He went to the far end of the alley, where he hoped that he wouldn't be seen, and started trying to figure out how to become tangible. If his efforts could really be called that, anyway. Really, he was just putting his hand through the same wall over and over again.
Nothing.
No resistance, no feeling, nothing at all happened, no matter how many times he tried to touch the wall in front of him. He tried concentrating, he tried not concentrating, he tried to mentally force his will upon the wall, and he got no response whatsoever.
Rather frantically, he tried to understand what he was doing wrong.
It occurred to him that perhaps he wasn't doing anything wrong. Maybe his newfound powers didn't allow for him to turn substantial again. Which would mean that being a mutant was going to kill him.
He had already determined that he wasn't ready to be dead, so the thought that he was going to die slowly and in considerable pain wasn't a happy one. Exactly when that would have been a happy thought, he had no idea. He briefly considered going home to the seaQuest to get help. It was an easily dismissed idea, though, as he doubted that they knew any more about being a mutant than he did. They wouldn't be any help, but they would have to watch him starve if he didn't learn how to become normal again.
No, he would not be going back to the ship.
There just wasn't an answer. He couldn't get help, a fact that he was at least used to. He couldn't figure it out himself, which was an utterly foreign concept to him, and a frustrating one as well. It was like one of those annoying Zen riddles. One hand clapping indeed…
In his frustration, he groaned aloud and banged his head against the wall.
Stopping, he leaned back and looked at the wall. Had it been his imagination? No, his head hurt too much for that to be true, he had actually hit his head on the wall! He almost danced with happiness before he remembered that his head hurt. Ouch.
Sitting down again, he rubbed his smarting forehead and looked at the wall. Well, he knew that he could touch things, at least. He just had to figure out how he had done it, and quickly.
Well, they didn't call him the boy genius for nothing, he reminded himself. If he had to be a freak, he would be a living freak, and one that could control his mutant power. He would figure it out, like he had always figured things out. It was just that he had a time limit on the equation in question.
Smiling, he stood and began again.
* * * * * * *
Unnoticed by Lucas, an old homeless man slipped quietly out of the alleyway.
Weaving through the streets a bit drunkenly, he subtly checked behind himself a few times to make sure that he wasn't being followed. After a few moments, he slipped into another alley and the shadows it provided.
The figure that emerged from the same shadows a few seconds later was a very different sight. She was a beautiful woman with deep blue skin and bright red hair, clad only in a very skimpy white dress.
Pulling a small device out of an almost non-existent pocket in the dress, she pressed a single button on it, and waited.
After a moment, a chipper, somewhat metallic voice emanated from the device. "How may I help you?"
"Nanny, put me through to Magnus." Looking out of the alley to be sure that no one had followed her; she slipped further into the darkness.
A distinctly concerned masculine voice replaced the robotic one a few seconds later, and immediately began demanding answers. "Raven, is that you? What's going on? How is he?"
With a genuinely pleased smile, she replied "Yes Magnus, it's me. He's already starting to understand. I think he'll figure it out quickly from here. It looks like he's going to be fine, and without our help."
* * * * * * *
Thursday, May 1, 10:35 A.M.
SeaQuest DSV, Wardroom
"How the hell am I supposed to tell him this, Bill?" Nathan Bridger was certain that both his weariness and his frustration were showing in his voice, but he was far too tired to care.
"I don't know, Nathan. But don't you think that he has a right to know what happened? Besides, the press is going to find out sooner or later, and you don't want him to find out like that." Bill Noyce looked worried, and as though he'd had as little sleep as Nathan himself in the past few days, but it was all too easy to forget about how the situation was affecting everyone else. His own pain was so acute that it seemed to take immense effort just to get up every morning, let alone worry about how everyone else was feeling. It was nightmarish replay of history, too horrible to have lived through once, let alone twice.
It was all because he had broken his promise to Carol. If he hadn't, Lucas probably would have been immediately sent away from the boat by whomever they had put in command instead. No captain was willing to put up with something so ridiculous as a teenager on board. Well, no captain but Nathan Bridger. So he had gotten Lucas killed, just like he had gotten Robert killed through his influence to join the Navy. Some father figure he was.
"Nathan? Are you all right?" Bill was looking more and more worried as the conversation progressed, probably because Nathan was paying less and less attention to him.
Sighing heavily, Nathan nodded. "I'll be fine, Bill. You're right, I have to tell him." Already reaching for the button to cut off the communication, Nathan added, "I suppose he does have a right to know."
As he hit the button, though, Nathan wondered if the 'right to know' was the most important factor in what Bill wanted him to do. Krieg was already fragile enough due to recent circumstances; did he really need to add another burden to the man's shoulders? Bill had been right about one thing, though. Eventually, the press would find out, and then it would be everywhere. Yes, he did need to tell Krieg. As much as he didn't want to, and he was sure that Krieg didn't want to hear it, he needed to do it.
He had been in that situation far too often in the previous week.
Pulling out his PAL, he punched up Krieg, and ordered him to the wardroom. He probably sounded a bit terse, but it was for the best that the lieutenant not expect something pleasant.
Sitting down at the table, he waited. It seemed that Krieg was expecting to be in trouble for something, because it took him more than fifteen minutes to show up. Nathan hoped that it was merely instinct on Ben's part, because the last thing he needed just then was another problem. He drummed his fingers on the table, becoming more and more impatient the longer he waited.
When Ben finally came in, almost twenty minutes after Nathan had called, he couldn't find it in himself to be annoyed with the man. The lieutenant was pale and drawn, and looked as though he'd not slept in days. He didn't actually look at all nervous, just withdrawn and exhausted. Nathan wondered if it would have been a relief for him to be in trouble for something, just to be distracted for a while.
Krieg gave a quiet "Sir.", and a weak salute before Nathan waved him into a chair. Sitting down somewhat warily, Ben perched on the edge of his chair and asked, "Is something wrong, Captain?"
Resisting the urge to laugh bitterly, Nathan sighed. "I don't know if you would call it 'wrong', Lieutenant. But there is something that we need to discuss."
Nodding, Krieg looked even more miserable. Nathan briefly wondered if he knew what was coming, but no, it couldn't have been that. Considering how many times the morale officer had been questioned on the specifics of the accident in the days since it had happened, he must have been expecting another Q&A session. It was ironic, really, that the morale officer was officially the most miserable man on the whole boat.
Nathan took a deep breath and waited a moment before continuing. He did not expect the conversation ahead to be easy. "As you know very well, Lt. Krieg, the UEO has been seriously investigating the accident." When Krieg cringed, Nathan had to fight an urge to put an arm around him. Of all the people on the ship, Nathan understood exactly how the man was feeling. He was feeling guilty enough himself, and he hadn't even been there. What he had to say wasn't going to help the poor young man, either. "Well, they've found the cause."
Krieg's head snapped up, and he stared at Nathan for a moment. When Nathan waited, though, he quickly lost patience. "What, Captain? What happened? Did I do something wrong?"
"No, Lieutenant, it was not an error on your part." At least not directly, Nathan amended mentally. "Do you remember a man named James King?"
Krieg looked confused for a moment, and then his eyes went wide. He started to look a bit green, obviously having put the pieces together. "I remember him. I used to… work with him. We were partners in this thing… but he, he thought that I cheated him…" His voice broke off, and he stared at the table.
Nodding, Nathan held out a freshly printed file to him. "It appears that Mr. King decided to 'make you pay for what you had cheated him out of', to quote him. He's in custody now."
"I-I see, Captain." Taking deep breaths, Krieg tried to steady himself. He took the file and glanced through it, not really reading anything.
Nathan watched, wanting to help the young man somehow, but knowing that nothing he could say would help. Except maybe… "We'll find him, Ben. It'll be all right. And your Mr. King will be going to prison for a very long time, for attempted murder."
Smiling weakly at Nathan, he nodded. "Of course, sir."
Well that certainly hadn't worked. Nathan was at a loss for what else to do, and just sat there looking at the lieutenant.
After a minute, Krieg stood. "Was that all that you needed me for, sir? I really should get back to the bridge." His voice shook when he said it, and it was easy to tell that the last place in the world he wanted to be was the bridge.
Nathan shook his head firmly. "No, that was all, Lieutenant Krieg. Why don't you take the rest of the afternoon off, though? It's been a long week, and I think they can manage without you for a while."
"Yessir, thank you sir." Saluting again, Krieg left the room.
Alone with his thoughts again, Nathan continued to worry about his morale officer. It was obvious that Ben was having a hard time dealing with the situation, but he didn't know how he could help.
It was then that he realized that he knew exactly who could help. Kristin. She would know what to do.
Calling her up on his PAL, he listened to her soft, reassuring voice. He could have listened to her talk all day. She was his only refuge left in the world; the only thing he had left that made him want to go on.
"Nathan? Are you there?"
"Sorry, just a little distracted." Smiling, he could imagine what she made of that. As worried as she was about him, it was probably for the best that he not concern her anymore.
He could hear the laughter in her voice a moment later, when she asked, "So is there a reason you called, or was it just for the pleasure of hearing my voice?"
If only she knew… "I suppose if there has to be a reason…" Sighing, he dragged himself back to the situation at hand. "I'm worried about Ben Krieg, Kristin. He's not well."
"Of course he's not well, Nathan, he's been through a lot."
"He has, and it's only getting worse."
"What on Earth do you mean, Nathan? How could it get worse?" She sounded concerned, yet somewhat disbelieving. It was reasonable of her, of course, there didn't seem to be many ways that the situation could get worse.
He had to tell her everything if he wanted her to understand, he just couldn't shake the feeling that it was somehow breaking a confidence, telling anyone about James King. If he wanted to help Ben, though, he didn't have a choice. "The UEO found out what happened, Kristin. It wasn't an accident, someone purposefully attacked the shuttle, someone who was trying to kill Ben."
"Oh no…"
"Exactly. He's not handling it well, not that I would expect him to be. But he needs help, Kristin, and I don't have any idea what to do." Stopping only long enough to take a breath, he added, "You're the doctor, you know how to handle these things."
"I'll see what I can do, Nathan."
Thanking her, Nathan cut the call. Standing back up, he paced the wardroom. Truly, he had never before felt so utterly impotent.
* * * * * * *
He managed to get outside of the wardroom before the tears began, and it seemed like a momentous accomplishment. It had seemed like he was responsible for Lucas' death before, but suddenly it was so much more real.
He HAD been responsible for Lucas' death.
One of his stupid business ventures had gotten Lucas killed. Katie had been warning him for years that something like that would happen eventually, but he hadn't listened. He never listened. It was his risk, after all, why should he worry? But it hadn't gotten him killed; it had been Lucas to pay for his stupid shady dealings. The silly part was that he hadn't cheated King. It wasn't Ben's fault business had been bad, he had truly done his best to make it a profitable venture.
He walked back to his quarters, ignoring the strange looks he received from his crewmates. He had a right to cry, dammit.
Arriving in his quarters, he decided that he had some serious thinking to do. Maybe it was time to resign from his post. As if that would somehow bring Lucas back. No, it was far too late, the damage was done. The real question on the issue of resignation was whether he could continue to function on the ship. It was a stupid question; really, it wasn't as though he would somehow function better if he left the ship. No, the only way he would continue was by being numb. By doing the same things every day, by finding himself a comfortable rut and staying there. The problem was that he had a hard time shutting his mind up.
Against his own will, he found himself thinking of the conversation with Bridger. He remembered Jim King, and the threats the man had made when he had confronted Ben years earlier. He probably should have done something, but how was he to know that King had been serious? Even if he had expected retribution, it should have been years before. And it should not have involved an innocent boy in any way.
Well, Ben would see about that. King would get as much time in prison as he possibly could. He would be sorry that he had hurt Lucas.
Hurt… He hadn't even realized that he was holding out any hope, even if only subconsciously. Might as well give up on that… Killed. King had killed Lucas. The poor captain obviously wasn't dealing with it very well, though.
Frowning, he wondered what he could do for Bridger. The man was hurting, that much was quite obvious. He was probably hurting more than Ben, even.
Thinking of Robert, Ben's frown deepened. Pulling out his PAL, he punched in a number.
Seconds later, a feminine voice answered, "Yes, Lieutenant?"
"Doctor Westphalen, I'm a little worried about Captain Bridger…"