Rise or Fall

by Heiress Mellie

First Class: Charles and Erik have accepted their roles as guardians and headmasters over the young mutants but there is still work to be done for the greater than typical family. This is a familial and discipline, including spanking, centered fiction.

332. Chapter 332 The Direct Approach

Rise or Fall

Chapter 332: The Direct Approach

Chapters to Check: 303, 304, 328, 329, 331

NOTES: Merry Christmas and Blessed Holiday Season, Rise or Fall Fam!

XX-Specially Dedicated to Cherished Fam Member Marion Mayer-XX

When his ivory adorned mother stepped inside the room, the already upright toddler released a happy trill of acknowledgement. His brother's recognizable sound effects causing his eyelids to instantly pry apart, the older blonde boy faintly moaned as he sat up.

Joey detected, Mummy?

Emma joined them on the twin bed. So, this is where you two wound up. Good morning, Treasures.

Despite their three vessels, Joey still found the bed unfilled. "Where'd Scott go?"

II

Frigid with winds sharp enough to slice through the skin…

Surrounded by air but unable to breathe…

His small hand coming loose made his insides contort as the exterior descended into unknown darkness…

"Scott?"
The pair of palms making gentle contact with his shoulders made the thin boy jump from where he leaned over the railing. Keeping his own calm for them both, Charles carefully eased them to sit on the step beneath them.

Brought closer to the adult's side, Scott realized, "Charles?"

The Professor smiled and adjusted the child's shades. "And good morning to you, my sleepy Cyclops."

"I…" Scott glanced around. "What happened to Brian and Joey?"

"They're wondering the same about you." Charles gripped hands with him securely. "Let's all go back to bed for another hour or two, hm Emma's bringing the younger lads over to our room."

With a nod, Scott got up and followed the telepath like a mystified lamb.

II

At the murmur to his left, the copper-haired mutant ceased story outlining and put his notebook to the side. With boyish anticipation flickering in his bright blue eyes, he watched his petite better half stretch her arms slightly. When she peeked out at him through her waterfall of highlighted strands, she very much resembled a highly desirable female Cousin Itt. He chose not to share that unique observation with his new bride.

"Sean?"

Deeming a Lurch imitation appropriate, Sean got in close enough so that only a whisper of distance kept their lips apart. "You rang?"

With a soft exhale of contentment, Maya brought her hand to the back of his head for a long kiss, scorning the need for air. "Going to bed with and even waking up together. Careful, if we're actually allowed to be newlyweds for more than five minutes, the whole planet will quiver."

"I've got too many pent-up tremors to notice," Sean said tantalizingly. "Or care."

Maya came back with, "Good thing I've got a man who can fly."

After another kiss that resulted in multiple intakes of air, Sean put forth, "I'll get the shower going."

"Make it a bath," Maya requested. "We need to rush for absolutely no one."

Both despite and because of that statement, Sean rapidly rolled off the bed and into the bathroom to start the water.

IIIIIII

Once Emma and Erik received physical confirmation of Melissa's return, Leon received, what his mind sardonically referred to, the go-ahead for a morning promenade of utmost youthfulness. On their way out, Melissa marveled not for the first time at Emma's impeccable way of speaking so serenely to Leon while the older female's blue eyes honed in on Melissa like a pair of piercing implements. On a debatably weirder note, Erik came off more amiable towards her. Bruiser caught up with and joined the couple's on their amble across the rear grounds of the glorious property. Melissa slowed to pick up and fling a broken branch. As she wanted, Bruiser charged right after it.

"I'm glad your squad rounded up those guys before they could make a move on Jack." When Bruiser returned with the stick, Melissa threw it for him again. "Mainly because the only bargain Estevan would have struck would have amounted to allowing them to go on living while he leveled everything they owned. Demolition duty gets too much crud in my hair." She looked back at Leon, who stood completely statuesque several paces behind. "Lee, hey," she approached him with caution, hoping he had not been abducted by an unwanted flashback, "are you okay?"

With a blink, his lips finally parted. "You are home… right?"

All jest gone from her, Melissa cupped both sides of his face, "Look at me," and locked their brown eyes, "I'm here. You see me? Hear me?" He nodded twice. "Feel me?"

"Every second," Leon breathed.

Melissa brought their foreheads together for an extended period and lowered her palms to press against his beating chest. She then laid her head on his shoulder and wound her arms at his neck.

After a while, Melissa repeated her first question. "Are you okay?" He nodded into her hair. "Good." She held onto his wrist and guided them over a shade tree. "Sit down a sec." They lowered into the grass with their backs against the bark. Not remotely interested in fetch anymore, Bruiser pawed at Leon and appeared to scrutinize his face. A small smile slid across Melissa's own. "I don't know how sickos out here get off on animal abuse. Dogs especially put up with way too much shit from us."

Leon used his backhand to stroke Bruiser's coat. "I'm not looking forward to this fallout with the kids once the Howlett-Creeds are done fixing up Dr. Sullivan's house."

"I still can't believe Dr. Dolittle didn't turn you in, let alone patched you up. Now, he and his entire zoo are staying in your house on top of being a mutie lover?" Melissa shook her head, unsure whether to be amused or flabbergasted. "Just the concept of this guy is going to wreck Estevan's head."

"All of this already did a number on mine, as if I needed any help in that department. But something's different." Leon felt her gently handle his stitched fingers.

"Are you sure you're okay with this guardianship deal?"

Leon faced her. "Are you?"

"Aw, how sweet," she mock swooned, "acting as if my opinion is worth more than bupkis to Emma Xavier."

"No, but throwing around words like 'bupkis' might earn you a few points from my dad."

Melissa enjoyed the mild twinkle pass through his eyes. "Pretty sure he's how I made your list of authorized wardens. You X-Men even do grounding weird."

"I'm under constant watch and the guardianship makes my every legal screw-up fall on not-me. Every time I step into unbridled stupidity, they yank me back even closer."

"Lee, I know it's too weird to process. Processing good is a pretty prominent design flaw in us."

Leon stared ahead as he somewhat distantly countered, "We were not designed. We are damaged, but we did not start that way."

Bruiser laid in the grass to place his head in the tense male's lap.

"And that's one detail we can't dwell on," Melissa claimed adamantly. "Not without losing the specs of sanity we have left. When it comes down to it, I'm glad these people are here, keeping you alive, whatever the legal mumbo jumbo."

"Whatever?" Leon looked at her again. "Including the part where we can't get married without consent until I'm twenty-five?"

Melissa bit back a laugh. "Yeah, like your aunt was going to let that happen any time soon, even before all this."

Leon's features remained sober. "So, we are getting married." When she became too taken aback to immediately react, he pointed out, "You said you knew it wouldn't happen any time soon. You didn't say it was ridiculous or crazy- normal people crazy."

"You gonna yell "no backsies" next?" Melissa then questioned, "What is with you right now? I know we banded together to pull off Mission: Maya Matrimony, but no- no way could that have gotten to your head. We're not the cutesy Cassidys."

Leon automatically surmised, "Pure white with actual promise?"

"Not what I meant," Melissa said seriously. "They make sense with or without mutation. With or without mutation, we don't. We're even from total opposite ends of the country. It's insane that we ever met; that we," she paraphrased his earlier wording, "feel each other every second."

"The burn and the balm at the same time," Leon described.

Melissa nodded. "And coming from you, that's a hell of a lot more than just pretty words. My point is, we're not like other people going out at our age, even if we did have matching pigments. We don't have a marriage certificate, but that's a minor detail with us."

"So, what are you saying?" he prodded further. "We're common law?"

"Uh, no," Melissa refuted in mild humor. "Pretty sure we need more than seven months to qualify for that. Besides, that's not marriage. That's no-strings-screwing."

Leon promptly determined, "Yeah, we definitely don't qualify."

"Because we're beyond that," Melissa asserted. "Casa de Cortez is the equivalent of firefighters on graveyard duty at the station. My real home is with you. Here," she tilted her head to indicate the mansion, "the safe houses, even that facility. Go ahead and take five years with this guardianship. Take a decade or more if that's what you need."

"What do you need?"

"You," she replied unreservedly. "Alive, ideally with minimal brain damage. But it's okay if you need more than just me."

Leon thoughtfully wondered, "You don't care about any other family? The Howletts, Maya, the manor kids?"

"I care about them, no matter how much I wish otherwise," Melissa told him. "But I can't have what you do with your family. You're new to the circle of support thing. My last one stood in line to take turns knifing me in the back. I can't ever completely come back from that. That doesn't have to be the case for you."

As the human pair slipped into their usual brand of silence, Bruiser found a scrumptious patch of grass to devour.

IIIIIII

Giggles filled the ears of the Veteran as he departed his en suite, showered and dressed for the day. On the bed, Kayla combed Mira's steadily lengthening hair while the boys darted from one side of the mattress to the other. Cody teasingly growled at and crawl-chased the halfheartedly fleeing Todd, who continuously gave into squeals. From the rocking chair, Logan grabbed one of his moto jackets he always donned for rides regardless of humidity levels.

Without looking over, Kayla brought up, "Did our grand thespian tell you what he recited to wow the theatre directors?"

Logan automatically guessed, "That owl from Sword in the Stone?"

"Cyrano," Cody informed.

Logan gave him a wink and head bob of approval.

Kayla deduced, "You're ready to head out?"

"Call you as soon as I get there," Logan replied, heading over to kiss her then Mira. "I won't be in late, but it'll be after dinner. I'll grab a burger on the way home."

Lounging in track pants and one of his father's black tees, Cody beseeched, "Can't I go with ya, Dad?"

"You can stay here and help your ma out so she can get ahead on these lesson plans," Logan answered matter-of-factly. "Been a little chaotic around here if you hadn't noticed."

"Yeah, kinda, sorta. I'm on it," Cody complied.

On his way out, Logan tossed both heads of silky hair on his spirited sons.

IIIIIII

After three hours of additional sleep, Scott awoke in a much more refreshed state. He kept his eyes shut until he retrieved his shades from Emma's nightstand. Joey stirred at his movements and instinctively arose in search of Brian in the seemingly deserted suite. Right on cue and tune to her maternal siren, Emma stepped in from the balcony with the smallest blonde Xavier in tow. The sun highlighted her eggshell rucked-sleeved mermaid dress. A blue polo shirt and brown shorts made up Brian's day outfit.

Pleased with the looks of the better rested pair, Emma instructed the older boys to get dressed and come straight back for breakfast. As they left to first brush their teeth and wash their faces, Joey emitted a merry air of nonchalance while Scott, naturally, entertained suspicious musings. To his knowledge, neither of them had gotten into any recent mischief, but still, Charles and Emma clearly wanted to talk about something without an audience present. Scott did appreciate that last detail. They finished with the bathroom and returned to the master bedroom in jeans and collared shirts. Having made it back ahead of the lads, Charles, also semi-casually attired, and Emma finished setting up their morning meal in the sitting area.

Joey came over gleefully at the well-rounded breakfast options of Lucky Charms, Sugar Crisp, and Kix. The selection of sliced fruit proved that the adults had not taken complete leave of their senses. While he knew for sure something had to be up, Scott still garnered amusement in the way they ate 'plain folk food' out of ceramic bowls and crystal milk pitchers. Brian seated in her lap, even Emma enjoyed some Lucky Charms with a banana. Scott went for Sugar Crisp, but played the good influence by munching on a few chunks of melon and pineapple. Both Charles and Joey had bowls of Lucky Charms and Kix with apple slices.

"No, dear," Emma calmly but automatically when Brian wanted to use his fingers to pluck up cereal bits, "use your spoon."

As soon as the mini blonde grudgingly gripped the tiny utensil, Charles detected his unfavorable intentions for it. "Brian Henry…"

It relieved Joey when Brian resisted hurling wet cereal at anyone. Scott bet the crafty toddler only wanted to avoid getting sent to his room because such sentencing conflicted with his nosiness.

Unsurprisingly, the Professor incited the conversation. "Lads, we were thinking that perhaps we all returned to our own beds too quickly. Last week is still so fresh in all of our minds, even more so at night. And our bed is much more comfortable for the five of us than you three cramming into a twin."

"We only did that because Brian started fussing," Scott claimed. "I figured it was better to take these two back to my room instead of bugging you guys. Like you don't have enough going on."

"We really do appreciate the thought, Scott," Emma told him, "but I think we'll all rest easier if we stay together at night for a while longer."

"Okay," Joey agreed easily, reaching over to pinky poke with Brian.

"Is this about this morning?" Scott brought up. "I got a tiny bit hazy. Blame this little punk," he lightheartedly gestured at Brian with his thumb, "always waiting for the lights to go off to practice kung-fu."

Brian released an impish titter.

Neither adult displayed any tolerance for joshing at the moment. Joey eyed them attentively and Scott sat up straighter in his chair.

After handing Brian over to her husband, Emma leaned in to better address the child she discovered via happenstance. "Let me make this clear. Cut the jokes and nix the false bravado. I've had all I'm willing to take of you kids bottling your issues until destructive combustion. You did not trip in the garden and scrape your knee, Scott. You boys were shot out of the sky and would've been killed if not for the others acting so swiftly. No matter how much you want to convince yourself that it was no big deal, Charles and I know better."

Trying to keep the snippiness out of his tone, Scott came back with, "It's not our fault our dreams wind up in your head. Believe me, I'd love to turn it off."

"That is not the reason we know better, Scott," Charles informed him patiently. "We know what you're feeling because we're anything but over that night."

"So, you can act like everything's all good, but you want me to come crying to you because I'm just a dopey kid?" Scott retorted.

Emma countered, "We want you to come to us, Scott Summers, before you end up sending your fists through glass. Now, we will not force you to talk or to sleep in here, but if we have to safeguard you every single night to make sure you get a decent night's rest, we will do exactly that."

"I'm sorry!" The sudden utterance from Joey sent everyone's gaze his way. Brian's curious but ever adoring countenance sprinkled his uncertain older brother with welcomed respite. "I didn't mean to lose my disk like that. It happened so quick then I- I don't know why I couldn't keep us up like that one time with Laci. I don't know what was wrong with me."

"Are you completely out of your mind?" Scott reacted in sheer disbelief. "You—" The teen sat flabbergasted a moment. "You can't honestly think any of that was on you. You were keeping us airborne and frying those discount Draculas like bacon. No way could you play lookout, too. I'm the one who should've spotted that plane."

"Yes," Emma spoke sardonically, "because one year of grammar school ROTC has crafted you into a one-man militia. I know we haven't trained you to such an extent."

Scott's fist came down roughly on the tabletop. "This isn't funny, Emma. I was basically the co-pilot up there. They shouldn't have been able to take us by surprise like that."

"We are not mocking you, Scott," Charles informed. "You think we can't sympathize with what you're feeling? We were mentally monitoring you all. We should have detected that pilot's intentions and incapacitated him along with his crew."

Joey stared at his father in surprised fascination. "You mean so that they'd crash the plane?"

"Don't be silly, little one. We couldn't do such a thing." Charles then nonchalantly reasoned, "Not without sufficient time for the ground level X-Men to clear the area."

Further curious, Joey pressed, "Would you have let it crash if just those hood guys were down there?"

"Do I punish you lot for needlessly endangering yourselves?" Charles counter-questioned.

A comprehending, "Ah," came out of Joey while Brian chortled and waved his hands vigorously.

When he received a look of inquiry from the elder Xavier, Brian scooped up a portion of cereal.

Countenance partially brightened by her baby tending to her husband, Emma remained serious when she addressed the older boys again. "What we're trying to get across is that we understand such irrational guilt. Whether you believe it or not, ours will linger for much longer."

"We also don't mean to belittle you by not wanting you alone at night," Charles added to their other point. "Every instructor here has needed that extra bit of support through pain, sorrow, and terror- often all at once. Now, if you don't want to stay in here every night, you can go to Victor, Alex, Erik, whoever you want. All we care about is your well-being, sons."

Glancing at Scott, Joey pointed out, "Bri will probably fuss and wake you up again if he stays by himself, anyway."

Scott exhaled tiredly. "Fine, okay." To the adults, he resolutely claimed, "For the blondies."

Emma replied, "As the matron blonde, your cooperation is appreciated. It's always been preferable to having to order my intelligent, capable children into submission."

"Yes, ma'am," Scott faintly uttered.

Charles next put forth, "Let's finish up. Erik, Victor, and I have to be off soon. We're going to check in on our leads and ensure they're maintaining our agreement. Also that their adolescent apprentices have hung up their dark-hoods. In our neck of the woods, at least."

"Cool," Scott reacted with a favorable bob of his head.

IIIIIII

By noon, the usual weekday swarm filled Tasty Ted's medium-sized restaurant. When the overhead sounded yet again to announce another entry, the dirty blonde senior in a navy blue jumpsuit maneuvered through the crowd like second nature. He chatted cordially with the head waitress before receiving the stuffed paper bag containing his regular phoned-in order. As he departed to return to his truck, he failed to notice the keen blue eyes on the opposite end of the dining establishment. Even with the packed patrons, the irises followed him from arrival to exit.

After allowing the vehicle a short head start, Logan deposited a few dollars on the table for his devoured sandwich and coffee. He walked nonchalantly through the other eaters and out the door to where he left his motorcycle.

IIIIIII

At last, done rummaging through the clutter at the base of the desk for his lost notes, the sandy blonde head looked up in surprise. So wrapped up in his search, he had not heard the brunette child enter the music studio. He also suspected that he could have been staring straight at the entryway and the dutiful lad's training still would have gotten the jump on him.

Trick addressed him with, "Looking for Seanie, boyo?"

"For what?" Scott replied dismissively. "I need to talk to you. Unless you're busy with—"

"Listening to whatever you have to say." After the interjection, Trick left his sheets on the desk and moved to sit in the swivel chair attentively.

Scott went around to speak more covertly with the man. "Can we talk on the way? I need a ride."

Trick asked in turn, "Do you also need a trunk sizable enough to store a body?"

"Not right now."

"Good, we'll make better time that way. Meet you in the garage in ten, laddie."

Scott gazed up to watch the intangible mutant hover directly through the ceiling.

II

Rhythmic rapping sounded at the door. "Who's there?"

"Room service." The redhead then received a response in the form of Maya opening the door, clothed in a turquoise chemise. Sean had to grip the tray significantly tighter to keep from dropping it. "You are the world's greatest tipper."

Expression coy, Maya noted of the food, "That was quick."

"I was highly motivated." Sean followed her towards the bed after kicking the door shut with gusto. "Can't let you waste away."

"That's true." Maya settled on top of their bunched linens. "You already wake up next to a skeleton."

"Hey, cut that out. I do not," Sean promptly protested, lowering the tray before undoing and dropping his bathrobe. "I wake up next to a crazy blind babe." Left in his boxers, he joined her on the mattress.

They kissed and started on their feast of bagels, pop tarts, and fruit topped with whipped cream.

Sean finished a swig of orange juice when he felt her thin fingers stroking his stubble. "What?" he eyed her with delight, pecking her digits.

"You were such a babyface when we first met." Maya then dragged her fingers through his chest and abdominal hair. "It was really amazing because I remember thinking how much taller you are than most men I know. You totally stood out in my head."

"That's what made me stand out to you?" Sean replied in utter amusement. "Not the fact that my hair can pass for a stoplight?"

"That, too. You don't look like most guys here," Maya stated reverently. "You definitely don't act like them."

"And here I thought my mom always saying girls will like me for me was the biggest crock."

Maya thoughtfully wondered, "Did you ever think we'd get this far?"

Sean answered, "I never thought I'd get as far as a second date with you. After how you took the mutant reveal, I wanted this with you more than anything else in my life. What about you?"

"I kept going back and forth between joy and jitters," Maya described. "I thought about us constantly and it scared me. Trying to remind myself we were only sixteen and shouldn't be so serious never worked. I never saw myself as the kind of girl to get spellbound like something out of an Audrey Hepburn picture."

Sean asked, "Do you still get scared?"

"Sometimes," she admitted. "But there were other things that really scared me that don't anymore." When Maya peeled her lace straps off to dangle on her shoulders, Sean took over removing the satin nighty. Her gaze stayed locked on him. "You like this?"

"I love it," Sean emphasized.

Maya tilted her head a bit to let her hair cascade to one side. "All of it?" He responded by using both hands to fondle her exposed front.

Once Maya laid back, Sean's larger frame blanketed her. As they kissed, a thrilling jolt rushing through him made him kick the tray off the bed.

Sean's vehement order of, "Leave it," instantly got Maya to ignore the strewn dishes and remnants of food to refocus entirely on her husband.

IIIIIII

Only seven stories or so up from street level, those below remained oblivious to the massive electromagnetic sphere along with its three passengers. Arms crossed and cape swaying, Magneto stood in the center. Professor X crouched nearby, maintaining their mirage of invisibility. Sabretooth observed the unaware citizenry. Even after all his time with his fellow X-Men, it amazed him to witness all that the younger mutants could do- not to mention destroy- yet prioritized operating a school for the whelps of their kind.

"Surprised Banshee didn't want in on this follow-up," said the leonine mutant. "Especially now that he's done needin' them wings."

"And my presence," Magneto brought up evenly.

"When I approached him about it yesterday, he told me he already had plans." Considering the quarantine situation had caused the physical separation of the new Cassidys, Professor X had opted not to press the ginger for details. He peered up when he sensed the pensive emissions from the metal wielder. Brother?

Magneto opened his eyes. "I'm going to need future threats to cease coinciding with my eldest son's birthday."

"It is surreal, isn't it?" the Professor spoke fancifully. "What of that disagreeable seventeen-year-old we recruited? I know this can't be easy for you."

"Reaching the legal drinking age is negligible," Magneto stated. "Alex has already exceeded my hopes with the man he's become."

"I know what you mean," Professor X sympathized.

"Twenty-one." Sabretooth shook his head. "Nothin' but a drop in the bucket in the grand scheme, but these kids can't countdown to it fast enough."

"I'm familiar with that mindset," Professor X expressed. "Though, there is something about this recent mission I must admit." The other men looked towards him attentively. "What happened with the kids on July 4th then with Hank drew us into this, but this situation with the poachers was not a matter of mutation. We were able to help those who lack our extraordinary gifts and gained another non-mutant ally in the process."

"Not to damper your profound enthusiasm—"

"Despite your unprecedented skillset in that area," Professor X interjected glibly.

"This isn't the first time we've helped outsiders," Magneto only went on. "That's been the brothers Howlett-Creed's raison d'etre for decades."

Sabretooth snorted. "If raison d'etre translates to 'squat better to do'."

"And all of these situations prove that the X-Men have so much more to offer," Professor X continued. "The kids experienced using their powers for the good of the community."
"It's unfortunate that should their services come to light, they'll receive a containment cell, not a merit badge," Magneto countered.

Professor X came back with, "I'm not talking about collecting popular public opinion. The kids took part in something beyond our constant clashes with fellow mutants and enemies out to exploit and police our powers. Even through the frightening close calls, we held together."

Magneto then conceded, "That we did."

As he listened to the normal back-and-forth between the Headmaster duo, Sabretooth's thoughts went to the trek through Trick's mind. He fully comprehended how the bizarre beasts from the musician's imagination could attach the fisher-of-men label to the telepath. Even with how much learning he still required, the Professor's youthful vessel contained a steadily developing sage soul of warmth, welcoming, and guidance. He wanted those who looked to him to bask in the euphoric sunshine of a brand new day. Sabretooth roamed by the cover of familiar darkness and no matter how many he saved, none could wash away the blood of his failures.

IIIIIII

Upon entry and coming through the mudroom, a linen closet and three-piece bathroom preceded the living room. Caramel colored hardwood made up the majority of the property's flooring, excluding the two carpeted bedrooms and the tiled kitchen and bathroom. The living room included an aquarium and fireplace with a wide mantle that displayed numerous photographs. The mostly finished lower level contained a workshop with a multitude of tools and a narrow half-bathroom. Food in the kitchen consisted of a loaf of bread, peanut butter, cornflakes, cans of soup and chili, potato chips, twinkies, and a couple of stale donuts. Soda, orange juice, and whole milk with a questionable sell-by date proved the hardest substances inside the icebox.

The entirety of the kitchen contents filled the Veteran with countless memories of his own bachelorhood and former disdain for domesticity. Such reflection caused him to question not for the first time how he ever woke up in the morning before the scent of a certain Blackfoot maiden fused with his own.

When he detected the distant engine, he went to the living and informed the fish, "Sounds like Papa Piranha's comin' our way," then headed downstairs to make his exit through the cellar doors.

A few minutes later, the green and white Chevy came into view on the remote property. Once the owner spotted the rugged stranger lounging on the front steps of his raised ranch house, he stopped the pickup in the driveway instead of continuing into his attached garage. The man taking leave of his vehicle did nothing to alter the other male's blasé posture and frosty stare.

The owner decided on a civil response. "Something I can help you with, mack? Do you need a jump?"

Logan removed his cigar. "This you?" He used his other hand to hold up a business card for LL Plumbing and Repairs. "Word-of-mouth buzz for after-hour emergencies and payment plans?"

The other man raised an eyebrow. "You gathered that but somehow missed the phone number that takes up half the card? How did you find out where I live?"

Logan let off a snigger. "Bub, that's only the tip of the iceberg of what I know about you."

"Alright, I'm done with this game. Just who the hell are you?"

Rising, the X-Man replied matter-of-factly, "I'm the guy who walked your youngest granddaughter down the aisle." His expression remained even as the other man stood entirely flummoxed. "Name's Logan Howlett."

Making a path for him, the astounded blonde extended a hand to shake with the brunette. "Lyall Lithgow."

IIIIIII

For an establishment specializing in auto parts and extreme moto sports, Triumph of Westchester did not meet the teenage mutant's expectations. He envisioned a horde of growly bearded and heavily tattooed hulks-on-Harleys that likely raced with the brothers Howlett-Creed every odd weekend or so. Instead, the staff wore black slacks and crimson-ebony pinstriped shirts with the company logo printed on the short sleeves and breast pockets. The White Plains store greater resembled a trendy museum than any gruff dealership.

"Erik had time to have Frankie's helmet customized and shipped to arrive with his bike," Trick explained as he maneuvered through the vast store with the highly intrigued youth alongside him. "I wanted yours crafted especially for you as well, particularly where it concerns the eyepiece. Now that Hank's up and about, he can properly refine your rubies."

Glancing at the adult, Scott put forth, "You actually think with everything else he has to catch up on that Hank's going to prioritize special headgear for me any time this century? Besides, I don't need his help. I can make the mods myself with the right helmet and my spare visor."

"We're not talking about zipping between bases here, Scott," Trick countered seriously. "The field and even your aviation training can't compare operating a motorbike. Remember, you have to make allowances for accelerated speed and visual clarity. Your ruby quartz needs to be thinned for that while still keeping your eye issue contained."

With a light sigh, Scott admitted, "Yeah, true."

"If you really don't want to add this to Hank's to-do list," Trick went on promisingly, "I'm sure his right-hand Frank is our best bet. But whatever you two concoct has to go through Victor. Thanks to Europe, I know how to ride with the best of them, but Victor and Logan's experiences and mechanical inclinations are unprecedented."

"You heard Victor that day in the yard," Scott strongly reminded. "Trying to say I'm too young for a scooter."

Trick released a skeptical moan of disagreement. "Blame it on the immigrant in me, but my ears heard a slightly different translation. I'm fairly certain Vic only said you might not be old enough for the bike because you tried to use him to undermine Charles right there." The musician then reassured, "Just trying to clarify, boyo. The only one I condemn for that whole cockup is myself."

Scott appeared to make scanners of his red lenses as he studied the older male's features. "You do? Even after how I came at you with both barrels?"

"Other than you ignorantly defaming my daughter as weak," the brief hardening in Trick's tone and face gave way to mild sheepishness on the teen's features, "I couldn't disagree with what you were saying and feeling, even with certain circumstances of which you're unaware. God knows I hate to admit it this sort of thing regarding one Erik Lehnsherr, but he was right about me trying to buy your integrity. But it was never my intention, Scott."

The boy moved from foot to foot somewhat inelegantly. "If it was, at least you tried to buy it for something insanely cool."

"And on the subject of intentions," Trick put forth before speaking gently but forthrightly, "what's really going on here, Scott? Why the sudden interest in keeping your scooter after letting it collect dust in the garage ever since that disastrous day?"

Scott briskly pointed out, "You're the one who kept it there. You could've returned it any time you wanted."

"I'm not an Indian-giver, boyo," Trick told him. "It's yours to keep or hack for scrap metal. Now, changing your mind is one thing, but come to me a recreational rider like me when you have your brother, Leon, Logan, and Vic under the same roof?"

Quieting, Scott managed to reply after a few seconds of no further prodding from the adult. "You could've gotten me anything to try to win me over- a TV or whatever. Frank's the half of the Eye Scream Team that can actually," he gave off a feeble ironic smile, "see; perfectly, all the time. He's already old enough to ride, too. But you still got me a bike like his. Bribe or not, that has to mean you think I can handle it… you think that, right? That I'm capable?"

Drawing no attention to the minute crack in the thirteen-year-old's voice, Trick gave the thin lad a squeeze on his upper arm. "Of anything you want in this world. I know I was your instructor for way too short a time, but capability is something you do not need to prove to me, Scott. If anyone has something to prove here, it's me. I'm done trying to buy you off. If I'm to have your respect and trust, that's on me to earn it. But doing right by you is more important than your opinion of me. We are not moving forward with this training until Vic deems a helmet safe. Among other rules we're going to go over in detail once he does. Are we on the same page thus far?"

Scott nodded. "Even the same paragraph."

"Trick Hughes?" Both X-Men looked in the direction of the enthused mid-twenties-year-old making his way toward them.

"Hey," Trick acknowledged in turn, "Glen, right?"

"And me with no name tag- nice," Glen quipped. "Please tell me the teenyboppers haven't wrecked those rides already."

"Not a scratch," Trick stated. "Glad you're on duty today. You think you could help Scott here navigate and get sized up for one of these infinite helmets you carry? I need to look into my own set of wheels."

"Sure," Glen agreed amicably. "Take your time."

"Thanks. Scott," Trick addressed his pupil, "you do likewise. If you need me…" He tapped two fingers against the band of his communicator.

Scott bobbed his head appreciatively then looked on as the smartly attired salesmen attempted to subtility trail the perusing Irishman. "Are all you guys fans of Trick?"

"Yeah, about that, can't speak for the suits, but surf rock's more my thing," Glen admitted covertly. "It's just a little hard to forget a guy who comes to pick up an Italian export for a buddy, only to lay down the cash for its blue twin right off the showroom floor. I'd have to sell my car just for the shipping fee on these exports."

Enlarged eyes managing not to burst through the ruby quartz, a gaping Scott attempted to focus on Glen's detailing of the various headgear.

IIIIIII

Even with the activity taking place inside, a welcomed repose wafted through the Havok Hovel. On the sofa in the TV area, Leon remained still while Kiki's fingers combed his hair. The little girl did so absently with the majority of her attention on the book she read with Hank. As usual, Leon did not question the impulsive grooming. When the big group of them shared Erik's bed during recent events, his silky strands seemed to give the McCoy daughter some sort of strange solace. Trav, who worked on vocabulary with Alex and Raven at the magnetic letter easel across the way, acted to the contrary. He could hardly stand to look at the youngest instructor for more than a second's time. Leon had to give the boy full praise for displaying such civility for his sister and parents' sake. Of course, it still baffled Leon that Raven retained open affection for him on top of allowing him within a hundred miles of her children.

"Where ya goin', Joe?" Alex inquired without glancing away from the word Trav currently pieced together.

Having only quietly stood from playing tug-of-war with Sandy, Joey humorously wondered if the Summers had developed secondary mutations of homing beacons. "To let Laci know Uncle Hank's still breathing since this morning."

Amusement spread through the rest of the room and Alex granted, "Go ahead, bulletin boy."

Raven considered something. "Did you tell her about the last mission?"

Her nephew turned back at that. "Just the good parts, especially the X-Dads saving Sandy and the dogs. I was gonna wait until she can come over for the rest."

"Yeah, let's go with that," the shapeshifter supported.

As Joey made a path for Alex's office, Trav sent teasing kissing noises after him.

"Cut the comedy, Bozo Jr." Alex ruffled his hair. "You'll be gaga over girls before you know it."

"Oh, no," shaking her head, Raven threw both arms around her son, "my Pooh Bear."

Trav laid back against her contentedly.

With a snort, Alex expressed, "I swear this stuff sneaks up overnight. With Joe, it was a complete swerve. I'm calling it now- by the time he turns twelve, he'll be hounding me for real smooching tips."

Raven briskly deflected, "Okay, Team Noah, time to check in on the animal army. Gracie's about ready for another feeding."

Kiki slid out from her spot between Hank and Leon. Trav placed the rest of the magnetic letters in their usual bin before attaching his hand to his mother's.

Alex whistled at Sandy. "Come on, boy. Let's go track down your brother for some backyard bathroom time."

After the bunch of them departed from the Hovel, Hank noticed Leon's finger twitching. "Are they cramping?"

Leon savored the feeling of the other IQ member's expertly delicate handling of his hands before he replied, "Worse, itching."

Hank eyed him sympathetically. "The ever irksome drawback of the healing process. Let's get these clean and try some salve. We'll have to bandage them prevent further irritation, but fortunately, the stitches will be good for removal before the end of the week."

The appeased younger male followed the resident physician into Alex's hygiene space. As soon as Hank got the faucet to a temperature he approved of, he automatically began washing the afflicted digits himself. Without a syllable of protest, Leon merely remained still for him.

As he finished rinsing off the anti-bacterial soap buddying physical therapist Alex kept in supply, Hank none-too-subtly brought up, "So, Melissa's back."

"Yes, you really need to shop around for better assassins in the future."

"Duly noted." Hank then put forth tiredly, "All of this asinine fallout from the most basic of recon missions."

Leon stated candidly, "And it's anything but over. Dr. Sullivan's dogs have been so attentive and shielding towards the kids. Kiki may be able to get over it sooner because of Grace, but Trav's anxiety is going to take a harsh hit once they're gone."

"I know," Hank concurred. "But it won't be like before. We're aware of his issues and he has all of us to help him work through it."

"He has all of you." At Hank's questioning look, Leon elaborated, "Trav can hardly stand to look at me, Hank. And rightfully so."

"Lee—"

"I convinced him he could trust me then I stabbed both of you in the back."

"You protected him," Hank immediately disputed. "You were trying to keep the entire family safe from a rampaging lunatic. You did the right thing, Lee; what I expect of any of you if I go over the edge." He started dabbing Leon's hands dry with a towel. "Even if that means fatally wounding me someday."

Genuinely taken aback, Leon came back with, "That's what you expect of me? To kill you?"

"To do whatever it takes," Hank emphasized. "We're instructors, Lee. The kids' welfare comes first."

"Then I didn't fulfill your expectations," Leon informed. "I could've easily shifted you to another room until the telepaths got you under control. But when I saw you in the hall that morning, I saw Jared. And I wanted to stab Jared. So, once again, my warped head betrayed you. And I lost Trav way before Jared lost me."

"You have not lost your nephew, Lee," Hank said adamantly. "Jared lost you due to his own selfish cowardice. I know processing all of these different emotions is new and overwhelming at times for you, but if you were anything like Jared, you wouldn't be weighed down with remorse like this. No matter how angry Trav is with you right now, you can't give up on your relationship. Similarly, no matter how angry you are with yourself right now, I'm not giving up on ours."

Leon gave off a feeble head bob. "Kay."

They returned to the TV area for Hank to moisturize and dress his mending wounds.

II

On route for the Howlett-Creed wing of the enormous house, the Acolyte had to clear the way for traffic from the opposite direction. While Tommy secured the rear, Cody carted his twin siblings along inside their red wagon. He maintained a speed high enough to delight Mira and Todd without causing a nasty collision with ancient heirlooms. When Tommy spotted her, Melissa initially froze in place at him zipping over to greet her by flinging his arms around her middle. She eased off and threaded her fingers through his hair.

"Hi." Peeking up at her, Tommy's blue eyes twinkled, "Later," and went to retake his position in the game.

Without Melissa asking, Cody told her, "Ma's in the room," on their way by her.

"Thanks." Melissa returned the twins' good-natured waving. She watched until the small fledgling group rounded the corridor before continuing onward into the Howlett suite. She paused at the footboard to absorb the mounds of paperwork, graphs, and spreadsheets overtaking the massive bed. "Trying to get the jump on Tax Season clear to the twenty-first century?"

From her equally loaded desk, Kayla replied, "No, but instruction on how to navigate through that daunting aspect of adulthood will be included. This, my dear, is what the curriculum for a first semester looks like."

Melissa marveled, "This is only semester one?"

"For twelve different grade levels," Kayla confirmed offhandedly. "This is a mere pittance compared to when the Underground Academy launched. Having the additional teachers and tutors on staff has been a tremendous relief, lest my wee mutants claim neglect."

"And the safehouse sprogs call me Wonder Woman," Melissa remarked.

Still writing, Kayla mentioned, "Wasn't that your handle for your late-night Robin Hood routine? Along with your high-schooler cohorts, Supergirl and Catwoman?"

Trying with difficulty to fend off her amusement, Melissa nudged, "You can't deny it wasn't kinda cool."

"Only the teensiest bit," Kayla relinquished. "Now that you're back from your latest feat of Acolyte mutant citizenship, we can go over your plans for fall."

"What plans?"

"Exactly what I've been asking in regards to you." Kayla looked towards her now. "Have you given any real thought to this or are you content to use that GED solely for decorative purposes?"

"Ugh, this already?" The younger woman marched over to deposit her exasperated form into the rocking chair. "You just finished putting on an, admittedly, not completely mind-numbing wedding, you have two teaching gigs, your own kids that include two ten-month-olds, plus your hairy husband whatever, and from what I've heard, you foil Cruella Deville knockoffs in your spare time. How exactly do you have the brain energy to worry about my brain energy?"

Kayla watched her with an unchanging expression. "So many words yet not a single one answers my question."

Melissa groaned lightly. "What is the deal around here? Why are you X-Men so future focused? As if my boyfriend ambushing me with marriage talk." She quickly clarified, "It's not what you think."

"That's a relief," said Kayla nonchalantly. "I have too much to get done to pry Emma's diamond digits off your throat."

"Leon just has so much going on right now," Melissa continued, "especially with this guardianship."

Kayla asked her, "And what are your thoughts on that?"

"Let him take five years," Melissa answered without delay. "Ten, twenty, it doesn't matter. If he needs this until I'm gray and his hair is… still unbelievably perfect somehow then fine. I'll go along with whatever it takes for him to be well. If his family is looking out for him to the extent of legal responsibility, I might actually be able to function during nights we're apart."

Kayla eyed her with profound fondness. "Oh, my weary amazon warrior, if only you two knew how ahead of the curve you are. How did marriage worm its way into the conversation?"

Melissa claimed, "He who has no concept of split-ends or pimples forgot he's the guy in our crazy coupling. Like I said, there are other things going on with him, but as far as we stand, I was trying to get across that the big outlandish ceremony isn't exactly significant in our case. It's not as if we went out actively looking for each other- or anyone, ever. We just happened, despite making absolutely no sense."

"That's an adequate summary of my courtship, but sweetheart, we're supposed to be talking about you."

Melissa exhaled light laughter. "Yeah, you actually get it. As always."

"Acknowledgement appreciated." Kayla then confided, "As ludicrous as this will likely sound to you, I envy you and Leon in certain ways. Logan and I are the real anomaly, fortunate that our mutual longevity allowed us to have children during the point in life most people are ready to retire to a nice split-level in Ontario. I scoffed at romantic notions at your age, not wanting anything to hinder my teaching career. You and Leon are in a solid committed relationship in a vastly changing world. You put each other's well-beings above fickle hormones. You're fine with Leon taking five years with this guardianship. I have no doubt that he wants you to pursue something for yourself."

The younger female glibly replied, "You can yank a pro-education argument out of a cat box, can't you?"

"Well, we do have a successful veterinarian staying with." More somberly, Kayla asked, "Does Estevan ever discuss these things with you? If nothing else, where you might fit into his grand scheme of mutant totalitarianism?"

The way the Blackfoot woman made her employer's life goal sound akin to a Mother Goose tale made Melissa's lips quirk. "He considered Jimmy a prime marriage prospect for me. Because we're close in age and mutated."

An unsurprised Kayla dryly stated, "So, at the very least, he's a colorblind cretin."

"Estevan is what he is, Kay," Melissa said apathetically. "I merely trudge along as his credit to the lesser sex to keep my extracurriculars financed."

"And when you're not emulating Joan of Arc…"

Melissa pushed back in the chair to make it rock. "Community college course selection, ahoy!" Dissolving into the air, she reappeared in the doorway. "And by the way, Joan was swell and all, but she's not quite my number one ancient chick."

Kayla shared one more look with her before gripping her pen again. "I'll check your progress in an hour."

"I bet you will," Melissa replied with faux chagrin as she departed for her own shared suite.

IIIIIII

After a brief shower and quick change into jeans and a Giants t-shirt, Lyall busied himself in the kitchen. Refreshments ready, he entered the living room to find his guest scrutinizing the plethora of pictures on the mantle. The depictions ranged from black and white baby shots to recitals, dances, and graduations in color.

"Sorry for the holdup," Lyall spoke. "I don't get company too often and I wanted to break out my finest reserved label."

Logan accepted the glass from him and studied the contents of ice cubes and red liquid. "Kool-Aid?"

"Hawaiian Punch." Lyall took a sip from his own glass.

Logan quipped, "Knew I should've worn my Sunday clothes."

Lyall used his glass to gesture towards the couple in one Prom photo. "She was the belle of the ball in that blue."

"A livin', breathin' doll," Logan seconded. "You should've seen her in her weddin' dress."

Lyall darted his eyes a moment and gripped his glass slightly tighter. "Believe me, I'd have loved to."

Not drawing attention to the layer of sorrow in the other man's voice, Logan deduced, "I see Maya's cousins kept you in the loop."

"Yeah, thanks to my Sweet Bea," Lyall said fondly. "Staying in touch with her and her kids kept me going through rehabilitation."

Logan responded, "Unlike your Sour Lauren, eh?"

Lyall snorted at that. "That's putting it lightly, believe me. So," placing his glass on an end table, he picked up the container of fish flakes, "what do you think? Do I match the boogeyman portrait Laur paints?" He sprinkled a portion of the flakes into his aquarium. "Lyall Lithgow, the lowdown-lying-louse?"

Logan observed his movements. "Truth be told, until recently, I heard hardly a stray word about you left or right, least of all from Lauren. I just know you're the reason she's not keen on booze. To the extent that Maya plays hooch monitor on special occasions."

"Yep, I claim full credit there," Lyall confessed uninhibitedly.

The Veteran noted, "Considerin' you and your oldest child don't see eye to eye, it's funny you both make a livin' servicin' the public at random hours while keepin' yourselves as isolated from them as possible."

"Laur was never much of a social butterfly. In my case," aquatic animals satisfied, Lyall settled into an armchair, "people are a detriment to progress. In my experience, the closer you let folks in, the faster they are to push you right out once they get the full story. Not to mention the constant ribbing to attend happy hour since 'one beer won't hurt'. After how long it took me to establish myself, I find it's better this way. Being good ol' friendly-faced Lyall, sultan of the septic tank and poor, poor widower."

"I get that," Logan concurred.

Lyall looked at him squarely. "Do you plan on dropping that poker face anytime soon? We both know you didn't search me out for pitiful small talk."

Logan put the remainder of his punch on the coffee table and sat on the edge of an oak chair that allowed the men to maintain eye contact. "That bumper crop of back mail stirred one hell of a hornet's nest between Maya and Lauren. They patched things up, but Maya never should have had to deal with all this mess only a hot second after her weddin' all because, as usual, the adults in her family can't get their BS together."

"No, she shouldn't have," Lyall replied evenly.

"Since Lauren's no open book," Logan went on, "I've been left to wonder what would make any daughter carry such bile and contempt for her own father and only livin' parent."

"And I have just one guess what your main theory is." Lyall continued to meet his gaze. "I screwed up in too many times in so many areas, but never once did I put my hands on my wife and daughters."

When his senses gave him no indication of falsehood in that claim, Logan next wanted to know, "What did you do?"

Leaning into his backrest, Lyall peered up thoughtfully for a few seconds. "When I was a kid, my family hardly had a pot to piss in. From the time I was strong enough to lift a rake, I took on whatever odd jobs I could to keep a little change in my pockets. The break of my life came when the first factory opened up in my neighborhood. I was one of their youngest hires, but the most loyal, no matter what they threw at me. The money was so good and steady, I quit school. By the time I was seventeen, I had my own place, car, and best of all, tied the knot with my first and only girlfriend. Even when we had our first kid due that same year, we were on top of the world. I had to clock more hours than ever, but it was worth it. I made head foreman and by the time our Beatrice came along, we could afford a house in Yonkers. That's part of the reason Laur wound up being so close to her mother. With my hours and commute, she had to pitch in a lot with her sister, but we always had Sunday service and dinner together. They had a great school; nice clothes. I used to get giddier than my girls every time I brought them home a new present just for the heck of it." His countenance of jubilant recollection faded into a dark grimace. "Then the factory went under, but that wasn't even the worst thing." He looked towards his guest again. "Guess what coincided with that little setback?"

Logan easily deduced, "The economy's nosedive into hell."

"Bingo," Lyall confirmed with mock enthusiasm. "Only I got the jump on it before all hope went down the drain by '29. So, over ten years of experience, a golden record, and a rock solid worth ethic amounted to a steaming pile of nothing. So many guys clamoring for work, the high school dropout with no trade or formal training to show for himself wasn't even fit to make the reject bin. As our savings started to disappear, I was climbing the walls and more desperate than I'd ever been. That's when I started placing bets. One horse won me enough to pay the mortgage and keep us going for two months. That was probably the worst thing that could have happened to me because I craved the win harder than heroin. While I stayed waiting for the next big score to come in, my wife took on whatever work she could. My wife," he spoke in disbelief, "had to support me. My last shred of manhood went out the window right along with any decency I had left. I started pawning everything we owned, stealing from my wife, and used the bottle to numb the losses. My marriage became nonstop screaming matches. Lauren either played referee or tried to shield her sister from it. That's why she didn't keep too many friends in high school. If she ever dated, Lord knows she never brought them home."

"And their ma refused to add to the shame with a divorce," Logan surmised.

Lyall nodded. "Only reason we stayed married- in the legal sense. Didn't stop me from storming out constantly. I still remember Bea running after me every time, latching on and begging me not to go."

"And Lauren?"

"Developed a rocket arm from chucking my clothes out the door."

"Sounds like her," Logan commented. "This whole thing does shed some light on why the sisters ain't exactly as close as they could be. Got to say, the more I hear about you people, the less I believe Maya to be akin to any of you."

A breathy chuckle expelled from Lyall. "Maya's all her father. Carter was a great guy." He then raised, "This ginger giant, Sean Cassidy, he must be much the same."

"He's the best," Logan affirmed unequivocally. "One of the few things me and Lauren are like minds on."

Lyall stated, "Coming from Laur, he must be a Godsend. Only fits, considering it's a miracle Maya was born in the first place. I'm just glad I didn't ruin men for her as long as I did for Lauren."

Logan prompted, "Your turn." He received a puzzled look from the other man. "Don't act like you ain't loaded with your own questions. Like how I even know Maya."

"Well enough to stand in as father-of-the-bride, yeah," Lyall admitted, "I'm a trifle bit curious."

"When she was sixteen, I saved her from drowning," Logan began. "Since then, my wife and I have taken her on like one of our own. I'm the only dad she's had since Carter passed;"

With a saddened exhale, Lyall said, "I'm glad she had someone to fill those shoes."

"I know you wanted it to be you," Logan spoke with a glint of sympathy. "Maya knows it, too."

"Meredith told me she got the letters. Has she- do you know if she read them all?"

Logan nodded. "She's shown them to me and Sean. She got the gifts you sent, too." Lyall's expression softened into relieved appreciation. "Look, Lithgow, I've got no judgements against Lauren- not about you. If she wants to go on seein' you as no better than what you pluck out of septic tanks on the regular, that's her right. Where Maya is concerned, she's been through more than you know. She and Sean are finally on the best course they could possibly be."

"I have no intention of derailing that," Lyall vowed.

"If I thought you were any sort of immediate threat to them, we wouldn't be sittin' here sippin' punch," Logan asserted pointedly. "Before her big heart gets the better of her, I wanted to be sure."

"What are you going to tell her?"

"What you told me, along with my verdict," the mutant male said cryptically. "It's up to her to contact you or not. You're to leave her be, in the meantime. Because I'm tellin' you in no uncertain terms, that if you do anything to hurt Maya, Sean, or Lauren, I'll be back. You try to run, I'll track you down before you get where you're goin'. I have no fear of the law and I've already got a mile-long rap sheet with the Man Upstairs. You dig?"

To that, Lyall responded with, "If so much as a trace of who I was ever climbs to the surface again, I'll do the job myself. Came close enough times. Yet another reason I can't have a license to carry."

A pleased smirk resulting, Logan reached to take another swig of punch.

IIIIIII

In and out of his seldom occupied bedroom within the mere minutes it took to replace his Sabretooth uniform with athletic X-apparel, Victor conducted a brief check of the second floor. The level lacked its regular teen girl chatter due to Angel, Cordelia, and Samantha being out with their respective beaus. Still, Midnight seemed sufficiently satisfied in his current domineering position over the visiting Sullivan mammals. Even with his brother and new sister-in-law occupied elsewhere, Tommy proved content playing with the Howlett fledglings. Not long after arriving in his loft, Victor received another entry from the long-legged youth formerly hoarded away with his fellow Eye Screamer minutes ago.

Regarding the boy's furtive posture, the blonde elder cocked his head and inquired, "Whatcha got there, Shades?"

From behind his back, Scott displayed the tailored gray headgear. "Hank's spread out all over the place, but he gave me and Frank the OK to use his lab equipment to work on stuff for our moto rides.

The almost dumbfounded instructor elevated one eyebrow. "Are you talkin' about that Italian rig Trick got you last month?"

Scott nodded casually. "He's training me to be ready for my moped license by my birthday. I told him I didn't need Hank to configure a helmet that worked for my powers, especially with how long Frank's been working in the lab with him, but Trick's keeping us at a standstill until you say the helmet's good to go." He indicated the head protector again. "Here's our first prototype."

"Whoa, hey, slow down." Victor raised his palm in a stop-sign gesture. "I get you've got a deadline, but back it up for the stragglers Last I heard about that bike, you wanted to deck it out with gasoline and a lit match. And you felt just about the same way towards Trick. Now, all of a sudden, you not only want the thing, but Trick's the one showin' you the ropes?"

Scott shirked the security man's suspicious tone with, "He won't take it back and there's no sense in wasting perfectly good hardware. Besides, because of me, Frank hasn't gone near the one his mom and Erik got him for his birthday. Now, we'll both be cruising in our Eye Scream Machines soon."

Unmoved by the all-too-neat reasoning, Victor kept his gaze concentrated on him. "And you just up and decided this today, huh? Did you even plan on mentionin' this to me before Trick stuck you with this helmet mandate?"

"I didn't plan on keeping it a secret, if that's what you mean," Scott replied tersely. "I went to Trick because it's between me and him. He's the one who made you the helmet inspector, not me. He thinks he needs your permission, but I don't."

Victor gave him a reproachful stare. "You want to run that logic train by me again?"

"Well, I don't," Scott maintained simply. "Charles already said I could keep my bike and train for my license. He even offered to buy it from Trick for me. And according to your rulebook, if I went looking for permission from you, that'd be undermining Charles." The boy held out the helmet again. "Are you going to look at this or what? I won't grovel over it."

Instead of the rebuff the child expected, the tall blonde took the helmet and left it on a cushion before straddling the arm of the sofa. "Enough's officially enough, son. Trick, that bike, these sleep problems- what's really goin' on?"

Scott scowled in annoyance. "And of course, Charles just couldn't wait to tell you that I woke up a little bit early and got hazy."

"Okay, first, quit actin' like you haven't lived in this house since before we ever laid eyes on each other. We have a whole crew of instructors for a reason. We all need to stay on top of whatever is keeping you kids down. Yeah, there are exceptions here and there, but that's still the policy around here." Victor then moved onto, "Point Two, Emma and the Headmasters ain't the only ones keeping tabs on you at night. I know both you and Joey have been rattled since that last job, but you're not doin' yourself any favors bottlin' it up and puffin' out your chest."

Scott insisted, "Everybody has bad dreams after something insane like that. You're military; you should know."

"It's the middle of July," Victor stated wryly, "can the snow job. You get into these snide moods when you've got somethin' to unload."

With a tired groan, Scott expressed, "Look, I'm just extra irritated, alright? You all say it's not my fault, but this is the second time Joey almost got really hurt flying because I wasn't paying attention. We were on the for real field this last time. I dropped baseball to work on being a better X-Man and I'm not off to the greatest start."

Victor listened fixedly. "Is that what the sudden interest in this bike is about? Addin' to your skillset?"

"No, stacking up random skills is how your life works," Scott replied depreciatingly. "And Sam's, Logan's- you should've seen Cody at the theatre auditions. Rebecca was trying to keep her nerves under control while the cat-kid was breezing through like his usual mini showman self. Your powers give you guys the edge on everything. All mine has ever done is trip me up. I'm not letting anything hold me back anymore."

"That include me?" Victor further questioned. "You think I hold you back? Like when I withdrew you pups from the last job?"

"You let Sam stay and fight right beside you," Scott brought up pointedly. "If Cody was on her level, no way would you have sent him back to the jet and he's younger."

"Not if he was in a state of shock after near-death with lethal firepower comin' at us," the mutant elder countered. "You're not thinkin' clearly, son. You've got too much common sense to let this rage and guilt cloud your judgement like this. If you were unfit to fight like Lee and Hank were, you wouldn't have been anywhere near that mission in the first place."

Argument fuel dissipating with the man's every word, Scott's squared shoulders sagged. "I know that, okay? Still…" At Victor's beckoning gesture, the boy moved to stand right before him.

Purrs streaming through his entire system, the leonine male brought a soothing palm to the brooding youth's cheek. "You have to stop lettin' yourself get overloaded until you're ready to snap. Stuff like this is what worries Hank about you developin' Alex's BP." Even with the shades in place, Victor easily detected a reaction in the fledgling's eyes. "You want to be a pilot? Lead an X-Squad? Get into motocross? I'm rootin' for you with the same faith as when all you wanted was a bat and ball. I have no intention of holdin' you back, but I won't hesitate to rein you in just so you can feel like a big boy. Hate me for it or not."

"Don't say that," Scott instantly protested. "You know I couldn't hate you. Even if I had to take you out for going more whack-job than Hank did."

"Never miss a beat to make the old man proud." Victor patted his shoulder twice before lifting the helmet. "First prototype, huh?"

"Yeah," Scott confirmed. "The guy at the store was a lot of help and Trick let me get a bunch to get it right. This is one of the ones that can comfortably adjust to my head growing."

Victor bobbed his head favorably. "How's lookin' through the eye shield?"

"I get a little more color and light coming in than my shades."

"You know we have to run a load of tests to see how it holds up under different speeds and positions of the sun."

Scott responded, "Yep, we already figured that. But I still want to learn how to handle the bike from Trick. He bought his own to show me."

"Fine by me," Victor accepted.

Scott then eagerly asked, "Can we start helmet testing tomorrow?"

Giving the boy a look, the man countered, "Can you keep the teen 'tude squashed?"

The child gave off a sheepish nod. "Yes, sir- sorry."

"Good. You call it a night after we eat. I'll talk to Trick and catch you at 0600."

"I can do 0500."

"Tell me somethin' I don't know," Victor came back with. "For now, try doin' what you're told."

Point fully comprehended, Scott turned to jog down to the second floor.

IIIIIII

Seasonal humidity did away with the notion of an alluring fireplace. However, the honeymoon suite achieved the same glowing ambiance from the couple's wedding gift of his and hers antique lanterns. Cushioned by the area rug, the newlyweds laid covered by their sapphire flat sheet and nothing else. On her back with her arms sprawled in either direction, Maya's beguiled eyes gazed not upon the white ceiling overhead. Instead, an entire solar system of stars, planets, and the rarest moons danced above them. The misty swirls of blue and purple fused together when she experienced another detonation below her waist. A dull silence followed the ringing in her ears and she believed her hammering heart would eject from her chest at any second.

Tremors of his own subsiding, Sean remained focused enough to support his weight on his elbows for fear of crushing his petite wife. "You okay?" When her arms shot around him entreatingly, he frowned in distress. "Maya?"

"Don't let go," she beseeched. "Touch me, keep touching me…"

"I- I will." Sean obliged by carefully lowering enough for their lips to caress. "I have you."

Maya's tingling fingers went into his damp hair as she breathed in and out steadily. "Did you ever imagine… it'd be anything like this?"

"In and out of my dreams," Sean spoke slowly, "no fantasy could match this. A hundred years would've been worth the wait."

Maya fondled his jaw. "We don't have to wait on anything anymore. That includes packing."

His surrounding glow intensifying, Sean responded with another savory kiss.

IIIIIII

The entire day with the Frost males went far better than Nate could have hoped. The three of them talked and got a great deal ironed out between them. The euphoria brought about by that along with swimming, Monopoly, tennis matches, and playing fetch with the dogs made Nate feel much improved over prior days. During dinner, however, a few of his symptoms resurfaced, causing his appetite to abruptly deplete. Winston excused him from the table to prepare for bed. Chris got up along with the boy and kept a secure but gentle grip on his shoulder.

Courage and Beauty also at their heels, Nate made it upstairs with only a twinge of lightheadedness. With an affectionate ruffle to his hair, Chris left his intern to bathe in peace. During his shower, Nate's muscles relaxed and he realized something. Despite clearly informing him of a second spanking, Winston had not so much as hinted at it since that morning. Nate also recalled the man's concerned countenance as he left the dining room. He could easily exaggerate how poorly he felt or go to sleep in a hurry. The teen had been very well-behaved and the sensitivity from his morning spanking had lingered for quite a while, even after his first shower. As he toweled off, another recollection snuck up from the back of his mind.

"All too like our mother, Chris, Emma, and Cordy have allowed their emotions to stumble or stunt their growth altogether in the past. Then there are the rest of us; Charles, you, and I. It goes against our very design to do anything but forge ahead."

"Like Father?"

"… Like Father."

As he recalled his exchange of words with Adrienne that day on the terrace, Nate grasped more and more how much he had wanted to reach out to her during his personal crisis. She would likely keep mum until they had some answers. However, the boy knew the eldest Frost child would never be keen on how long he had dragged the whole thing out on top of dabbling in junior chemistry with himself as the subject. They needed to forge ahead like Father, not let emotions stumble or stunt their growth altogether.

Half an hour later, Winston came in through the ajar door and carried over a bottle of chilled ginger ale. "I thought this would be preferable to the castor oil Mrs. Nader wanted to bust out."

On top of his covers in sweatpants and an undershirt, Nate laughed softly. "Thank you, but I'm not in hurling territory. I may have overdone it a little today, even if it was the most fun I've had in a while."

"Good. I think we all needed it." Winston took a seat on the side of the bed. "I hate that you couldn't finish dinner. If you're up for it, Mrs. Nader has a slice of pie waiting on you for breakfast." Nate sent a small smile his way. "How are you feeling now, son?"

"Pretty tired." Nate toyed with the fabric of his pillowcase. "So, I'm ready for my…"

Understanding, Winston supplemented the youth's bravery. "For the punishment to be over?"

Nate started to nod, but instead vocalized, "Yes, sir."

"That would make two of us then." Getting up, Winston whistled and went to open the door wider. "Courage, Beauty, out with you, now." After the dogs followed the command for the second time that day, Winston returned to the bed and made lap space easily accessible. "Same procedure from this morning, Jonathan. Or do we need to review it?"

Years seemingly depleting from his age, Nate inched his way over the man's legs. "No, sir. I remember."

With no need to give the lad anymore rebuke than the abundance he received earlier, Winston pulled down his soft pants and underwear swiftly. Like before, the first strike came with no formal warning.

Nate winced instantly, finding that his toweling off did not completely lessen the impact of the sting on a freshly bathed bottom. The swats also came faster than the time before. The British teen hissed until he sunk his head into his blanket and let the tears secrete from his eyes. All thoughts of mortification proved nonexistent, considering he laid having his bare rear end royally ravaged by his host father for the second time in under twenty-four hours.

Winston delivered the punishment rapidly, not wanting to give the boy more than a throb to hasten him to sleep. The pain would be gone by morning while, ideally, the lesson lingered. The wealthy Bostonian still had to get used to exercising slightly lesser force that wielded greater results. It had been quite the opposite with his first son.

The next whimper Nate let off came from the material in his bottom clothing lightly rubbing against his warm and weary backside. He had let himself get so lost in his crying that he had ceased paying attention to the spanking itself. It hurt to be certain, but he enjoyed the sudden relief.

"Easy, Jonathan, come on." Winston helped the lean young man reposition himself on the mattress with his head amongst the pillows. "Here." He reached for and held the ginger ale bottle to the teen's lips. After Nate took the first long sip from the straw, Winston gave him the bottle to grasp for himself. He smirked at the infantile display and ran a hand along his back. "Tomorrow's a new day. We're going to make sure nothing else is lurking in your bloodstream, we can move on from this. Especially now that you've gotten a taste of what you'll get if you endanger yourself so foolishly."

Nate peered at him with swelled blue eyes. "That was only a taste?"

"My boy," Winston responded uninhibitedly, "this will feel like Sunday-in-the-park if we need a repeat performance at all soon."

"No, sir," Nate rushed to assure. "Not again." He swiped at his wet eyes with his wrist. "But um… can we have Sunday in the park?"

Winston released a short chuckle. "We'll see how many of your little doodads I trip over between now and then. For now, turn off that brain of yours- if possible."

Forming a genuine smile, Nate squirmed to relax under his covers.

Winston remained near him until youthful frame seemed to completely settle down. Grabbing his scepter from where he left it against the nightstand, the man quietly took his leave.

II

Unable to make sense of the schematics he himself had plotted, Chris promptly dumped the plans on the coffee table when his father made an appearance in the living room.

"Wait…" Sitting up on the sofa, Chris attempted to scrutinize the elder Frost. "You actually let him off?"

"From a belting?" Winston replied shortly. "Hand-to-hide sufficed."

Greater surprised filled the blonde's face. "The kid really has softened you. I don't remember my Round 2's going nearly so smooth—"

"You are sex on legs."

Though his mouth dropped right open, Chris could not produce sound for several seconds. "… Yeah, I'm going to get the girls on the phone. The time has finally come to cart you off to a quiet bingo community."

"I've tried to wrap my head around this," Winston used a throw pillow to bat at Chris' legs, prompting the younger man to lower them from the couch so the older one could sit, "since this morning." He went on undeterred as Chris now used his lap space as an ottoman. "After all the loops you've thrown at me since adolescence, I must admit, I never saw anorexia coming."

"Well, I have to keep some mystery in our relationship, don't I?" Chris quipped. "And I'm not an anorexic."

"No, you're one of the most handsome, well-dressed, pulsating heartthrobs on this planet," Winston proclaimed. "Sure, you have my dazzling eyes, but your best features are all your mother. Her honey hair and radiant skin."

A different sheen developed in his aforementioned dazzling eyes as Chris appeared too taken aback to formulate speech. "Daddy, I—thank you. This—"

"Spare us both, Christian," Winston interjected in a monotone. "I've surpassed my tear tolerance for the day with one boy already. It's simple statements of fact. Silver spoon or none, do you really think your wives and flock of floozies were drawn to your winning personality?"

Chris shook his head in sardonic dismay. "And there's the old fart whose plug I can't wait to yank."

"Believe it or not, I am trying to understand you, son," Winston spoke earnestly. "Meaning, I've had to resist the urge to mangle you for denying yourself food completely out of vanity. Cordy is a teenage girl and even she believed she was helping herself in gymnastics."

"Why do you think it's so near impossible for us to have a sincere conversation outside of the Courtiers?" Though frustrated, Chris eyed him imploringly. "You can't understand this because it's trivial nonsense to you. Like everything I've ever gone through."

Winston concluded, "So, yet again, your every misstep goes back to my failure as your father."

"You're not a failure as a father," Chris refuted.. "I am aware of how much I've squandered what you've provided for me. But you are completely unaware of what real failure feels like. Do you know how hard it was moving back home after my second marriage collapsed? Going back to Harvard after years? Doing so while in constant fear of falling off the wagon again?"

After a lengthy silent moment, Winston answered, "No, I don't."

Chris sighed into his palm as he then dragged the appendage through his yellow hair. "Caffeine helps fill the void, but it's never enough. That's when I started binge-eating without realizing it. Until my tailor did. I tried to drop ten pounds and ended up losing fifteen." A sliver of a smile materialized at the memory. "Hitting the gym, incinerating the fat, jogging an extra mile every day…"

"Like when you ran track," Winston recalled.

Good-humor reverberated in Chris' chest. "Those were the best of times. Before the team. I get Nate's less than stellar judgement; fooling around with his own health."

"Is that why you felt compelled to let me in on this new next-to-no calorie lifestyle of yours? Some perspective on my part to give the boy any extra lenience?"

Chris said thoughtfully, "Probably the best thing to come out of this is the reminder of what that kid means to me."

"You're not alone in that regard, son." Winston then pointedly brought up, "You know you can't go on this way, right? We can't. Forget the liability to the Courtiers altogether. Sir Malachite is a lifeless shell without Chris Frost to fill it. Not me, Otto, Byron- you."

Shifting in his seat, Chris faced him again. "I need your help, Daddy."

"You're sure about that?" Winston countered to his offspring's surprise. "You aren't wrong about my… trivializing tendencies." He slowly twirled the scepter in his clutch. "Since you first day of school, I groomed you to become the very classmates I hated. Someone who grew up completely differently from how I did while I still mimicked my own father's child rearing methods. Without any of my experiences or responsibilities, I expected you to fall into line as quickly as I did."

"I can't get your old neighborhood out of my head and I was only there a few hours," Chris put forth. "I don't know how you got through it for almost twenty years. Failure for you meant falling back into a cobra pit. Motivation I could stand a little of."

"And I take it this entails more than seeing to it you don't sneak bits of your dinner into your napkin and pockets?" Winston hummed in ponder. "Better than you regressing to your toilet training, sheer hell on Earth that was."

With a snort, Chris offered puckishly, "Tip? Avoid stomach-churning terms like 'sex on legs'." He gestured outward with his thumb. "Going to look in on the kid." Retracting the legs in question, he moved to rise.

IIIIIII

Varying reflective silences emanated from the ponderous heads of golden blonde, silky ebony, and rich copper that currently occupied the medieval inspired domain. All three reacted to faint creaking of the steel doors.

"Hey, sorry." Melissa reeled back from full entry into the eminent den. "Didn't mean to disrupt the powwow. Just making sure the escapee is accounted for."

Standing from behind the desk, Alex petitioned, "Melissa," in chorus with Leon. After an exchange of glances between them, the older boychick, "it's all good. Come on in."

At Leon's nod, the wavy-haired young woman ventured inside.

"Did you want to…?" Frank started to get up from his spot beside Leon.

Melissa shook her head, "Don't put yourself out, charmer," and opted to ease onto one arm of the sofa.

Frank attempted not to stare at the way Leon did not make a move to scoot closer to her yet her presence still seemed to emit a mollifying air his way.

Hand-in-hand with the older female telepath as they made their way inside, Becky jauntily greeted, "Hi, Melissa," upon noticing her.

Gaze making a prompt path for the Acolyte, Emma mentioned, "We seemed to have missed you at the dinner table."

"Kayla and I took the to-go option," Melissa responded in what she hoped passed for a blithe tone. "We got caught up going over some stuff."

"Yes," Emma nodded once, "I know how that goes."

"I got it, I got it!" Managing to enter the den backwards without stumbling, Tommy tugged on the strap of the weapons satchel.

Both in workout garbs with towels draped across their necks from their latest swordsmanship session, a most amused Erik came in after the spirited child. "I see. Mind if I take it from here, my ambitious athlete?"

Trying not to show his windedness, Tommy conceded, "I guess." He let off a small, "Oof," when Erik plucked him up under one arm and hoisted the bag of swords with his other hand. "Sure, now that I did the hard part."

Emma, Becky, and even Melissa regarded the macho merriment favorably.

Once Erik took in the rest of the gathered, he left the swords in front of his desk for the time being, "Alright," and lowered Tommy with a light pat to the boy's stomach, "what's the current crisis, hm?"

Emma glanced at him. "Your guess is as good as mine."

"I—" Leon paused to catch Tommy, who darted right for him. As he got to his feet, he placed the short boy between Frank and Melissa on the sofa. "Dad, Mom," coming towards the adults, Leon looked between, "I know this is a lot to come at you with, but I've been thinking about this for a while," Erik and Emma almost unblinkingly maintained his gaze, "I'm really not interested in going back to WU this fall."

As Erik stood with an indecipherable expression in place, Emma verbalized first with, "Leon, you're at the halfway point and your final grades were spectacular. Recent events can't have you doubting yourself this much."

"Though I'm left questioning what's happening in your head if you thought we'd bite our tongues simply by your siblings and girlfriend being present," Erik finally spoke. "If I thought you put any mature thought into this, I'd go along with you wanting some time off, but you're being rash, boychick. You cannot quit school for nonsensical reasons."

"I'm not trying to quit school," Leon asserted. "I just don't want to go back or be an instructor or anything else as…" He feebly gestured at himself. "This. As Leon Osaka." He quieted and exhaled. "Because I want to be Leon Lehnsherr."