I am so sorry this has taken so long. Loooooot of personal stuff going on, don't want to go into it here just know that it has been…chaotic.

First off, before we get to anything to address I want to first cover something that I forgot to make clear when I was making the ending note for the last chapter. (Migraines are a bitch!)

The thing I wish to address is the matter of the limit on telling Jean. The concept was not mine, I've seen it here and there though the most prominent example is Vimesenthusiast in their story A Third Path to the Future. I had meant to give them the credit but forgot with everything going on. I am taking a different route with the results but I had wanted to make sure credit was given where it was due so there.

Now, there are going to be moments (not in this chapter but soon) that will probably look like I am bashing the characters Xavier and Erik, maybe some Scott. I will not be bashing but I do intend to expose what I see as problems with the characters, showing them their own flaws. First step to fixing a problem is acknowledging there is one.

That's what I've got here, I hope everyone enjoys. Not a lot of action in this chapter but this was more to build the world around the characters a little bit and set the stage for the coming events. But without further ado…on with the Chapter!

XX—Steps to Change—XX

"I'm sorry I can't provide more," the woman apologized as she set the tray onto the little table in her living room. She moved deftly, slippers barely making a sound as she moved to sit in her chair and pick up the nice china pot filled with fresh tea. Despite the lack of vision she had long since grown accustomed to she filled the three cups without spilling a drop, handing them to her guests.

The first to take the offered treat was an elderly woman, dressed in simple clothes with a gentle smile as she cradled the item in her hands. "It's quite alright dear," she replied. "You very well know this is not the worst cup of tea I have ever had." She suddenly lifted the beverage slightly, just avoiding the cat's paw that attempted to bat at it. "Ebony!" she chided, sounding like the perfect affronted grandmother in that moment. "This is not a toy."

A chuckle drew the attention to the third person sitting in a comfy armchair. Doctor Paradox sipped his tea with relish, sighing in relief when he finished tasting it. "You have good taste Ms. Adler," he complimented. "And once again thank you for agreeing to meet with me so suddenly."

"Irene please, and considering I have seen you recently in a few of the visions I received it seemed the logical choice," was the curt reply as the woman leaned back in her chair, hand falling onto the cane she always kept close. "Now, could you please explain why you seem to think my warning my friend against her current action is a bad idea?"

"Because several things need to happen and only will happen if Cain Marko is allowed to make his attempt against his brother," was the easy reply. "Although I admit this reality's timestream has grown…erratic as of late."

The elderly woman snorted in an undignified manner. "Erratic is certainly a word for it. My few attempts at scrying have showed nothing but turmoil and chaos!"

"My own visions are growing murky as well," Irene said.

"That will pass," the doctor waved as if batting away a pesky fly. "Unfortunately my friend had caused quite a few ripples on his entry into your reality and it is taking a little while to settle."

"And of course you are here to provide a little…guidance in this time of confusion?" their host questioned, shoulders suddenly tense as she awaited the answer. "I assume a cost will be required."

"Only that you listen to my information before making a decision," Paradox assured them. "All I wish is to help move things toward more advantageous endings for all parties." He paused, a slight smirk coming to his features. "Well, maybe not all considering some of the people coming but I digress."

"And this isn't some ploy to raise Xavier over our employer in the future?"

"Hah, good heavens no!" The women seemed startled by that sharp retort and he began to explain. "Make no mistake, I do believe that Charles Xavier has his heart in the right place, but at the moment he is far too set in his ways to be the leader of mutants some will seek to portray him as." Irene seemed to relax somewhat, apparently feeling more at ease with her decision to follow her enigmatic leader. Paradox saw this and decided to nip that in the bud as well. "The man you have taken to calling Magneto is no better, and worse in many ways currently. His good intentions and paranoia have twisted his purpose and if he is not taken from the path he walks he will spark a genocide more heinous than you could imagine. The world will be shattered and the war he so feverishly believes to be coming will be sparked by his own hands."

"But war is coming!" Irene growled. "I have seen it, no matter how much I try to find a way to stop it war will come."

"Of that it is certain madam," Paradox agreed. "However, I am trying to ensure that you people realize there is something far worse than this little experiment coming to fruition."

"Experiment? What do you mean?"

"That, unfortunately, is an entirely different story that I have not the time to delve into at the moment nor would the cosmos allow it. Plus that would be spoilers and I just cannot abide such things." He sipped at the tea again before fishing into the pocket of his coat, producing a gumball he popped into his mouth. "Ah, so relaxing."

"You are a most confusing man," the robed woman stated, her expression thoughtful if a bit irritated as well.

"And you are not the first to have said as much Ms. Harkness," he replied easily. "Though once again it is a fair critique. Anyhow, while for me time is endless your own is limited so I shall begin by explaining."

He leaned forward to set what was left of his tea back on the table, rested his elbows on his knees and any jovial mood he showed vanished like water on a hot pan. "As both of you know, time is…tumultuous. Each person who develops the ability to gaze into its flows has their own interpretation, a translation their mind fabricates in order to make sense of it all. I myself see lines of equations on a screen, harkening back to my time as a scientist I suppose."

"Each person, every action, every minor detail is its own line of equations on this massive screen. Person-A meets Person-2 and their interaction equals the variable used in the next equation, creating this great web of interconnected movements that would take a certified genius billions of years just to understand a single line." He paused there, eyes staring into the distance as if seeing something they could not perceive, before shaking himself and turning back to the conversation.

"But while most people create their own lines of formula, their exist those who have utterly titanic levels of influence in the greater running equation. People who, for some reason or another, affect courses of history and future. Nikola Tesla, Genghis Khan, Martin Luther King Jr, Marie Curie, these are just a few examples of people who have influenced the great flow in some way that still echoes even now." His expression darkened. "Another example that is relevant to my argument is Adolf Hitler, there are echoes of that man's influence I wish I could wipe off the board but am powerless to do so. And just like how great people inspire the acts of those to come, the actions of a person may taint the future of another if not properly handled."

"There exist several of this variety of people right now, as we sit and talk here the great equation is feeling the effects of their existence. Two of the greatest, and in this case more relevant, are Charles Xavier and Erik Lehnsherr. Both have a vision for how the world should be and a drive to make it a reality. However, both are horribly flawed in their own way. Charles will come to personify the saying of 'the road to hell is paved with good intentions,' and at times will act in ways that will eventually turn even his staunchest of allies against him thinking himself to be taking the moral high ground. Meanwhile, Erik has begun to believe that the ends justify the means. If a person is mundane then they are a threat and must be eliminated. If they are a mutant they must join or be slain as a traitor to their own cause or…convinced to think otherwise."

The doctor sighed, pinching his nose to stave off a headache. "I have wracked my brain seeing the equations meet time and again, chances to create one fluid answer that could have wonderous results for humans and the galaxy at large…only to see each opportunity be lost either by Charles' almost intentional naiveté or Erik's arrogance. So, I decided to introduce a new factor. A factor that, in many of the realities he exists in, he has encouraged the math of peace to such a value it has solved a great many issues just by being himself. That variable is Benjamin Kirby Tennyson, and from what I could see of time's repositioning after his arrival I believe I made the right decision, for him and for the people of your world."

"However, Ben is not without his flaws and one of them is his own stubbornness. A strength at times and the ultimate Achilles Heel in others. There is a delicate issue being fought in the background of that mansion and both men are firmly set in their beliefs…I need events as they are now to go undisturbed because it will strengthen Ben's place in this world a little more while seeking to knock both of them down a few pegs."

He leaned back, allowing his words to sink in. Irene turned her sunglass-hidden eyes to her fellow listener who had mirrored the act. There was a moment of silent thought as they considered the information they'd been given before Irene nodded.

"Very well," the blind seer acquiesced. "I will not warn Raven this time." Her features suddenly hardened. "But know that if she is harmed I will not trust you again, no matter how charismatic or emphatic you can present your cases."

"I assure you she will only receive a few scrapes," the threat seemed to bother the man as much as water bothered a duck. "Well a minor concussion could happen but that depends on how quickly Ben will reach them. After all time has its own twists not even I can predict so I will not give too many promises. Still, she will survive, of that I can assure you."

Her frown deepened, it was obvious she wasn't pleased he was reluctant to better offer some assurance to her beloved's safety. Still, she put it aside and chose to address the other issue she had with their meeting. "None of what you said has explained why you decided to come to me when Agatha had come to visit."

"And would you have felt more secure meeting a stranger at your door without someone you trusted to help should it turn nasty?" he shot back with a smirk. The women chuckled, nodding to him as a little sign he had scored a point before he turned serious again. "But beyond simply ensuring we have a progressive conversation I was hoping to convince you to help Ben with another self-appointed task he will be taking."

The eldest looking of the three old beings arched one steel grey eyebrow before gesturing for him to continue. The conversation would last far into the night and when Dr. Paradox stepped from time into the realms of possibility he would leave behind two baffled women eagerly awaiting events of the near future.

XXXXX

A wall that had seemed completely ordinary suddenly hissed with released air, a tall rectangular piece drawing itself further in before splitting itself vertically in two. From the other side of this wall, and the elevator revealed to be on the other side, stepped Benjamin Tennyson and Evan Daniels. "Your reaction time and aim are pretty good," the taller of the two stated. "Ororo mentioned you played basketball at your last school, that would have built up your hand-eye coordination pretty well and using your spikes since then would have kept that going."

Evan began to walk with a slight strut, obviously proud of himself and his performance, only for Ben's next words to quickly pop the swelled head before it could get too inflated. "However, you seem to be leaning toward a quantity over quality approach we'll need to train you down from. Trust me, I've got a few forms that specialize in projectiles and I was a firm member of the spray-and-pray club until my grandpa took me to task. I'll input a few courses I want you to run through based on what he set up for me, someday you'll be so good you can plug a gun barrel before it can even be fired."

The skateboard enthusiast looked at him skeptically only to get a wide grin from his new teacher. "There's nothing quite like the feeling you get when some government mook stares at an expensive laser gun that just went off with a plugged barrel."

The two shared a chuckle before parting ways, Evan going upstairs to shower and prepare for classes while Ben continued on toward the dining room. Charles was there, reading one of several newspapers spread out before him. Logan was absent, most likely either working on his bike or one of the many outdoor courses designed to train the students. Ororo was off somewhere, most likely tending to the garden she had mentioned on their drive from New York. The telepath and source of the institute's name glanced up, brow furrowing as he locked eyes with his newest tenant. A tense moment that seemed to stretch out between the men before they looked away from each other. Moments later Ben was sitting with coffee in hand and pulling a notepad out from the pouch he now regularly kept strapped to his leg.

He flipped through the first couple of pages before coming to the subject currently on his mind. Sketched onto the lined page was the image of the goggles Scott used when 'in uniform.' Those goggles had bothered Ben the moment he had seen them. They were a glaring weakness, snatch them away and he's a danger to others and a liability once he closes his eyes. For that reason Ben was now creating his own design for a more secure version. As he put pencil to paper he decided to break the silence hanging between them to garner a bit more information.

"I haven't had the chance to ask—" he heard the newspaper ruffle as it was moved so the man could look in his direction "—what is the story of Scott's control problem? The little I've heard makes it seem like he hopes my mindscape technique can help solve it."

For a time, only the sound of his pencil's lead scratching at the paper and Charles' thumbing his papers were the only sounds between them. The professor seemed to be mulling over the question and its answer, measuring whether he should humor the man who had challenged him so firmly against the possible help it would offer the man under his charge. Finally, he set the paper down with a sigh and began to explain the history of how one of his students came to be in his care for the second time in as many days.

"A few years ago Cerebro notified me of a mutant awakening their powers in Nebraska. The signal lead me to an orphanage where I found a boy complaining of headaches, Scott Summers. With some digging and access to his records I was able to discern that his family had been in a plane crash in Alaska some years before. During the event, Scott had suffered a severe blow to the head that had rendered him comatose for several weeks during which surgery was performed. I think the physical trauma at first made it hard to control his power, as accessing and directing it takes some mental effort, but it eventually became psychosomatic in nature after it healed. Scott most likely believes, a hope I share, that your methods may offer the control he so desperately craves."

Ben stopped sketching, thinking over this new bit of information with a frown. "It's possible," he eventually conceded. "But it will take time…and he'll first have to get comfortable with his power which his constant fear of losing control is getting in the way of."

"Not exactly an easy thing to overcome."

"No, but not impossible either." He looked back to the notebook and began drawing again.

"I take it you have an idea as to how to approach the issue?"

"Not really even an idea, it's more like the start of one. If I had a form that was completely unaffected by his powers, do you think it could help?"

Charles' frown deepened as he considered his knowledge of Scott's psyche. "I believe it would be a good step in the right direction," he said. "When would you plan on attempting this?"

"Today after school, I can help review his mindscape maybe help him along a little." The pencil stopped again, only this time it was tossed across the table to slide toward the professor. "In the meantime you think you could get the materials for that?"

The sketch Ben had crafted was that of a helmet, but an unusual one. It seemed to be made of interlocking plates covering the entire head and neck. The face was featureless save for a visor and the plates seemed to be connected at the ears by a pair of hinges allowing them to unfold from a resting position at the base of the skull.

"You drew this just now?" he couldn't believe what he was seeing. There were notes suggesting the ruby quartz used for the eyes, possible triggers built into the ear panel or even a trigger button built into a glove. The kind of metal desired for the plates, each quality in detail planning. He had even included notes detailing a speaker system to project his voice and filters to prevent toxic gasses.

"The drawing is new, but I did the notes last night," he explained, twirling the pencil as he leaned back in the chair. "I was thinking of something so somebody couldn't just rip the visor off and leave him in trouble but then started thinking about combat in general, different kinds of operations and it kinda mutated into what's sitting there."

Charles sighed. "I know combat is going to be a casualty of our goals…but moments like this sure do hammer that fact home. But something is strange, you have written gallium here. Isn't gallium unsuited to the task at hand?"

"That's a different kind of gallium actually, see I've got a form from a race called the Galvan." Ben raised his hand, a small wave of his fingers called up traces of his mana that began to form into the picture of the little frog-like alien he was discussing. "They're about that size but have more brain power than you'd ever believe. They invented a special alloy they named Gallium after their race, sort of a stamp of approval since only the best deserved their races name. Incredibly lightweight to the point they can lift it without assistance, but reflective to most energy attacks and just as durable as the highest quality steels we could create back on my Earth. In that reality there were more robust alloys, but this is some of the most malleable and best for lightweight armor. I know the formula to make it I just need the materials and resources to do so."

"I'll need a list, though perhaps I can call on an old friend to see what he can do to help shore up things more quickly." Ben nodded and held out his hand for the notebook which was tossed back to him. As he turned the page and started on that list Charles decided to address the elephant in the room. "I'm surprised you are willing to keep things going after our last discussion."

"You asked me to help get them ready," was the simple reply. "In return for help on some of my endeavors I agreed to do exactly that. I see it as part of my performing the assigned task to inform you of my opinions on things such as that matter and then accept the consequences. Should you decide after the matter is addressed that our partnership will not continue I can return to Stephen and ask for his assistance instead." He tore the page off and held it out. "Until such time I will continue helping to the best of my ability."

They weren't going to resolve the situation that easily, but they both had experience doing things that made them uncomfortable. With a nod of respect for the attitude at least, Charles took the list and tucked it into the breast pocket of his shirt. Ben returned the nod and looked back to his pad, turning a new page and beginning to sketch again. The silence that hung between the men, though still tense, was not as tense as the one that had been like a heavy cloud earlier and they did not speak again until the students began to come together for breakfast.

Ever the diligent soul, Ororo was the first to enter. The young woman gave her little morning greetings before moving on to the kitchen to begin on breakfast. Ben moved to follow, letting the book lie at his spot. Pretty soon he had a bowl in hand and was mixing a batch of pancake batter while she was retrieving eggs and bacon from the refrigerator and they set about the morning preparations.

XXXXX

Jean Grey had always been an early riser. Most mornings she would wake with the sun, moving from her bed and opening the curtains of her room to enjoy those first warm rays upon her face. It had been revitalizing, like a special form of coffee all to herself. A jolt of energy with which she could fuel the first steps to a new day. This morning, however, Jean was worried about even leaving her bed.

The conversation with Ben last night had shattered the trust she held in a man she had respected for helping to bring her back from that coma. Lying in bed, arms spread and unable to stand even the weight of the blanket covering her, those pale green eyes stared at the ceiling of her room as she thought over what she had learned.

"This is why my spell failed to take hold," he explained while waving a hand at the mass. "I have no idea what it is, other than it most certainly is not of our world." He was looking at her, yet Jean had not glanced away from the object of her focus and because of this she was the one to see a pulse of the red light. For just a moment there was a brief sense of emotion…an…indignation? But her new teacher kept talking before she had the chance to give this revelation voice.

"I figured Charles had to know about this, maybe even be responsible for blocking it away, so I put you at ease and confronted him after sending everyone off." His eyes seemed to turn sad at that moment. "He…told me about how you came into your powers." She looked away then, turning to look at the expression of pain he showed which only drove the old pain she felt at the memory even deeper. She was only ten years old when Annie was hit by the car, that young there were things she could only barely remember of that time…but she still remembered the sound of its impact.

This time it was Ben who noticed the surge in the sealed area. His eyes narrowed, watching the flare and then seeing tethers from Charles' barrier. He traced their every move as those pieces wrapped around the flare and pulled it back, but they also grabbed onto some of the mass that was Jean's mind. That had him concerned about what effect it was having on her, something to further investigate it seemed.

"Right, anyway did he explain how bad things could have gone?"

"Oh," Jean shook her head, crimson hair flying in the weird physics of the mind and little trails like slow-dancing flames hovered after the movement. "Yes, he said it almost killed me."

"It did more than that, it left your body vacant. All but empty save for the smallest of tethers that kept it actually alive. You were the equivalent of a vegetable Jean…and whatever is behind that—" he gestured toward the block to add weight to his statement "—was in your mind when Charles pulled you back in."

Jean's eyes widened again, and she made to speak, but then something else happened. A keening wail, as if some great bird of prey was crying out a challenge to the universe. Such was the force behind this mental call that both astral visitors clutched their hands over their ears on instinct. A tremor shook the entire mindscape followed by waves of heat that felt like they were under the sun in the middle of the desert.

"NOT…WHAT"

The words were not spoken, they were conveyed. The very concept of each word hammered through Ben's protective globe of mana, pierced into the essence of their astral forms and made themselves known. They lingered, like aftershocks from an earthquake, but faded in time. Once the ringing stopped in their ears the two managed to shakily return to their feet and turned to stare at the blockage.

"O—" Ben tried to talk but was forced to pause as yet another tremor ran through his astral body "—okay…that was…that happened." A shaking hand ran through his messy hair as he fought to present some semblance of control.

"Yeah." Jean, it appeared, was not doing much better than the teacher at that point. "So…did you…did you plan on going in there?"

"NO!" The denial was quick, firm…and possibly just a little bit hysterical. The man caught himself, forcing himself to breathe in deeply, held the breath for several seconds, and then let it out. "No," his voice was much calmer now. "Not yet at least. With the amount of time that's gone on since Charles' put these blocks in place, I'm afraid the pressure that has built up behind them would almost certainly wash everything that makes you Jean out of your mind." A new sensation washed over them…approval? Did wha—WHO, he quickly amended in his head lest the thought be heard, whoever was behind the blocks…agree with him?

He shook it off and returned to the matter at hand. "The spell I attempted with you, the one that builds a mindscape, it was made as a way to streamline the process of building a mindscape. It finds the strongest image in the mind and then anchors it in one place, letting you branch out from there. The other process, the one you'll have to do, is going to be more time consuming."

"But it will help me?"

"I'm hoping it will. The only plan I can really come up with that I think could work is reusing an old one I had for myself."

"What do you mean?"

He waved it off. "It's not important right now, the important thing is that we have a week to get things ready and we need to start now."

"Wait, hold on, everything is kinda coming on a little fast. Why a week?"

Ben sighed. "When I confronted the professor about this I tried to convince him to tell you. He thinks you need more time to mature before you're ready to address all this." He raised a hand to stall the tirade he saw about to spill from the young woman. "Let me finish. I think someone who's been a part of this whole mutant debacle since she was ten has got to be a bit more grounded by the time she's…seventeen?" She nodded with a slight frown, age and a lady should never be discussed in the same time, but this was an unusual circumstance. "Yeah, seventeen, has a right to know what's going on in her own head. So I gave him a week to come clean about everything, if he does then we move on from there. If he doesn't, I'll know he isn't going to be listening to anyone else if he thinks he's right. Either way, I'm not going to let some sort of pissing match keep me from helping someone I've agreed to be responsible for. So, if you're willing to let me help you, and help me do this little test on our host, I would like to get started."

A hand was offered, an obvious invitation. A paranoia she had never felt before crept up into Jean's subconscious in that moment. She had trusted Charles Xavier, the man who saved her, unquestioningly and devotedly. She had believed him to be a good chance for the future of mutants and their acceptance. Now, the trust had been completely shattered, the faith she had in the senior telepath now resembling a pane of glass that had been struck with a sledgehammer. 'But,' a little voice whispered from somewhere in her mind, 'he's not hiding anything. He's putting the entire choice in your hands…what are you going to do?'

Jean reached out and accepted the invitation.

Now she sat at the edge of her bed, staring at the sun rising out her window with a small frown and that same hand clenched at her side. She had taken a step toward liberating herself, and it was time she kept walking toward that goal. That thoughtful frown was forcefully wiped away, instead becoming a determined line as she got up and began to gather the things necessary to begin the new day. She narrowed her eyes at her reflection in the bathroom's mirror when she stepped inside, Ben had said his protections would keep Charles from seeing the memories regarding the night before, she hoped he was right because they would be tested soon.

XXXXX

Mystique arrived at Bayville High early, having already directed her own personal students to the cafeteria where any early arrivals would wait for the morning classes to begin. In the guise of Raven Darkholme she walked into the little area in front of her office where her secretary was waiting. "Mary," she gave a nod to the human, smiling slightly. "Anything I need to know about this morning?"

"I have the coffee sitting on the pot ready for your Ms. Darkholme," she replied with a light wave to the waiting machine. "There are some forms in your slot for signing, last red tape for the upcoming break and the camp you'll be sending the boarding students to." The dark-haired woman she pretended to be pulled said papers out and began to read through them when the next statement made her stop cold. "And there was a call from a Mr. McCoy, he said he was interested in a teaching position and wanted to know if we had any openings. He left a number to call back."

The dark gray eyes of the principal were wide, staring at the paper Mary was offering as if it were a snake poised to strike. A name that rang from what was, for her, a recent past. She shook herself, schooling her features quickly and took the paper. "We have been looking for a new chemistry teacher," she eventually managed to say. "Doug has been hinting at not wanting to renew his contract after this year. I'll talk to this McCoy, see about looking at his resume and consider our options. Thank you Mary."

She stepped into her office, closing the door behind her and let her breath out in a rush. 'Why is Hank calling now?' she thought, glaring at the number written on the post-it. She needed to address this. Moving to her desk she set the papers aside and opened the top drawer of her desk, emptying its contents. She then reached in, pressing fingers into a special groove she had prepared on her first day in this office. There was a click and the false bottom of the drawer popped up to reveal a small flip phone. Into this phone she entered the number and sent the call. It only had the time to ring once before it was answered.

"Hello Raven," the voice on the other end was the same she remembered from all those years ago. Older now, firmer, more sure of himself than she remembered. Despite herself she couldn't help the smile that just barely curved her lips. "Been a long time."

"Yes it has Hank," she replied, leaning back in her chair. "How've you been?"

"I'm sure you know better than I do," the man replied, the humor obvious in his voice. "I wonder if Erik has gotten tired of bugging my phones yet."

"Now you can't blame him for keeping an eye on people that may act against him," she chided with a lightness she didn't feel. There were very few things the woman had done over the many years of her life that she could claim to feel guilt over, when she remembered the disappointed look on that man's face the last time they had talked was one of those times. "It's out of respect for your past together he hasn't done anything else."

"I'll be sure to pass on my thanks for his respect should we meet again, but while you might know what I have been up to I can not say the same beyond what little Charles told me a few days ago. How have you been?"

"Working toward a better future old friend."

"Ah there's the Raven I remember. Answering a question but giving no information unless it benefits her in some way. But fret not, it is not the duty of one such as I to delve into the secrets of a lady, I do have business to attend to after all and have not the day to while away at your prevarication."

'And the poet comes out at last,' she thought as she began to relax into the conversation. Henry McCoy, poet, chemist, philosopher and one of the few men to ever be acknowledged by Mystique as a purely good man. He was all these things and more, and it seemed the past had not tarnished the soul of that good man.

"Ah yes, I heard you are looking to take up teaching again. What's the matter, all those old busybodies in the science world dragging you down?"

"I'll have you know that I consider myself one of those busybodies, young lady," the false-stern voice of a professor addressing a troublesome student shot back, forcing a chuckle from them both. "But yes, I have reached a point in my research that requires a little help from someone a bit more…knowledgeable in our circumstances."

"You mean a mutant that won't try to throw you on an operating table just to find out all the secrets your superior genes might hold," the bitterness at mundane humans slipped in there, something she almost immediately regretted in the silence that followed. She knew that was secretly one of Hank's darkest fears, to be treated as nothing more than a lab experiment, and she'd just stabbed at it.

"That…has been a consideration."

"Are you planning to move back in with Charles then? I'm sure he's kept that room of yours cleaned just in case you drop by."

"I've already made the arrangements with him, but I suggested I get a job at the local high school. I figured it could help keep a certain few students out of trouble with the staff."

"And not so conveniently keep an eye on myself of course."

"Well the best opportunity is one that has multiple rewards after all."

They shared a chuckle again before getting serious. "You know he won't like this, but while Mystique may not be comfortable with one as capable as you in the midst of my opposition, Principal Darkholme is well aware of how capable of a teacher you, Henry McCoy, are and she could not in good conscience turn down the application to teach at her school. Unfortunately it will take time to arrange as I do have a full staff but our chemistry teacher seems to be retiring after this year. How do you feel about starting the new term with us?"

"I think that would be lovely Ms. Darkholme. I'll begin making the necessary arrangements to resign my post in my current employer and look forward to working with you in the future. Unfortunately, while I would love nothing more than to speak with you on days gone by that will be a time-consuming process and I need to begin if I want to finish the things on my to-do list. It was good speaking to you again Raven."

"The same to you Hank." The moment the call ended the woman was quick to dial one of the only two numbers entered into the phone's memory. It rang three times and she hung up. She dialed it again, this time waiting for two rings before hanging up. Finally, she let it ring five times and it was picked up. "I have a report for Overwatch," she said immediately. "Observation Subject Beast has made contact, is coming to Bayville site." There was no answer and the call was ended.

She didn't wait for the phone to ring, instead turning to the newspaper she had brought in and began to read it. The first page was interesting, it seems that the ever-so-humble Tony Stark had vanished after doing a weapon's demonstration in…Afghanistan? Why would he have gone to Afghanistan when there were several weapons testing areas in the United States? Was he that conceited to believe himself untouchable in the middle of a war zone? She continued reading, finding that a whole unit of soldiers had been killed in the attack, but Stark's body wasn't found. No demands for ransom yet, or so the paper said but whether that was true she had doubts, but there had been an uptick in activity in the local cells. As if preparing for something.

She put it out of her mind, if it was in the paper Erik would already know and would most likely have discarded it. She thought about sending word anyhow. Should Stark be saved he would most likely be incredibly grateful to his saviors, and that would make him willing to offer aid. But, she well knew that as a human Erik wouldn't expose himself unless he was sure the ends would justify such an action and so she disregarded it as fleeting fancy before moving on to her paperwork. Tony Stark was far too bombastic of a personality to work a clandestine method and Erik did not want to pull more attention to himself until he was prepared to strike.

School continued, students moving about on their routes, hours passed, and the lunch bell rang. The principal stepped from her office completely at that point, taking the bag she used to carry the meal she prepared the night before and moving to the cafeteria.

Most teachers and staff could take their meals in their classrooms, but there was always a few on rotation to watch over the students. A bunch of teenagers just beginning to understand things on a social level are sure to cause issues without some oversight after all. As principal she made it a habit to pick a random day of the week and eat lunch in the cafeteria, keeping a known presence among her students while also letting her observe the charges of the Xavier Institute.

They were gathered at the usual table, funny enough at opposite ends of the room with her own children. She watched the glares shot between them with hidden satisfaction, rivalries were an excellent way to produce results. Pietro and Evan, Scott and Lance, her boys pushed themselves to show up their opposites, though Pietro seemed unable to acknowledge anyone as his equal. She forced herself not to scowl at that, Erik was many things but decent in knowing how to raise a child he most certainly wasn't. 'For someone who knows how to exploit the insecurities of the young he seems to be completely oblivious to his own failings at times,' she mused while chewing at her portion. 'But it is interesting to see that Grey has chosen to eat with her fellow students today. And it seems the quarterback is just thrilled with that choice.'

Mystique could guess at some of the reasons Jean chose to date such a pompous windbag as Duncan Matthews, but she watched the frustration in the girl occasionally rise at some of the football player's antics. She had a little bet with herself thinking when the girl would finally notice Summers following her around with his tongue out like a little puppy desperate for attention. She was a few centuries old and teenage drama was some of the only entertainment left to her with the current assignment, sue her.

But back to Jean Grey, something was different. The girl had set herself between Pryde and Rogue, staring at her meal as if deep in thought and barely eating at all. 'Erik said to keep an eye on her, something about being more than she appeared. He never told me the extent but then again he rarely does, information is dangerous if spread after all. But I haven't seen a hint whatsoever of her being anything beyond a decently powerful psychic, concerning by itself if she moves past the light touch Charles insists on but not worth drawing his attention.' She put it out of her mind for now, instead she wondered what could cause such a thoughtful look on the girl's face. She would need to question her students if they heard anything from the Xavier kids after school. 'Like it or not children are the worst at keeping secrets so it's hopeful something will slip through.'

Lunch finished without an issue and Mystique returned to her office. There was a single incident, apparently Fred had shoved a student and a teacher sent them both to her. A detention for both and a swift look promising extra workouts that evening cowed the hot-headed southern giant and she finished the day with a satisfied smile on her assumed features.

At the home of the Brotherhood, officially a home for troubled teens under a special outreach project started by Principal Darkholme, she began the next stage of her routine. The boys were waiting at the door to the basement, dressed in workout clothes just as she'd taught them. Back in her natural color she gave them a nod and opened the door.

The basement was unassuming, a washer and dryer set, some stacked chairs and a few other miscellaneous items. Overall it appeared typical, right up until the woman placed a finger against one particular brick which flashed. A section of the wall large enough to allow Fred to step through pulled back, sliding to the side to reveal a new staircase which she began to lead them down. Two stories down they went before the steps ended at a doorway leading into a large room the size of the school's gymnasium. Magneto always made sure to provide for his followers, an evening alone he spent using his powers to clear the underground and reinforcing the walls to let it hold the several thousand pounds of earth above. Mystique had fitted the room with several pieces of equipment for exercising muscles, a circle marked on the ground for sparring and a circular track for laps. It may be inferior technology-wise to Charles' Danger Room she'd heard about but considering her boys still managed to fight on par with his students even with the difference she felt it was justified to have a bit of pride in her abilities as a teacher.

"Quicksilver," her voice showed none of that pride, only the cold detachment of a taskmistress. "You and I are sparring. Blob, you and Toad will be hitting the weights. I want you both squatting until I tell you to stop. Lance you've got laps until I get tired of introducing your teammate to the floor and you'll switch off. Understood?" None of them dared to question her, only nodding silently. "Good, then get moving."

She left the boys groaning in pain a couple of hours later, still walking strong and not giving any sign she had just performed such activities, an act that further cemented in the heads of her students that the blue woman was not one to be taken lightly. She called in a delivery for food, one of the nights she would allow them to eat food they didn't have to prepare themselves and went upstairs to her room. There she pulled out the file she had printed for the Vault's layout, she wanted to make sure she had enough intelligence to make the operation run smoothly.

'Getting through the iris scans and fingerprint readers won't be an issue,' she mused while thumbing through the papers. 'Erik is as thorough as ever, though how he conveniently had the codes to the lower levels and Marko's high security vault I can only speculate on.' Maybe he was planning to recruit the…volatile man. Though if he did prove useful in this endeavor it could serve as a kind of audition she supposed. 'Two birds I guess,' she shrugged it off and continued on her planning.

XXXXX

In the realm between times there sits a stone platform. One of the few fixed points around which the multiverse converges in all of creation. This nexus held no name or title, for those who knew of its existence saw no point in such things, but it was known all the same.

Professor Paradox stood upon this nexus, eyes fixed on the dancing galaxies visible from its stone surface. "Success is walking from failure to failure with no loss of enthusiasm," he whispered, the hand not on his cane idly turning a pocket watch over and over.

"Winston Churchill," the air and ground shuddered at the new voice's sounding. It was a mix of what one would consider male and female, a cacophony and yet a harmony unique unto those of its kind. Where once the unassuming man stood alone, their suddenly was another being. Reality itself warped in order to birth this being seemingly from the ether. They stood nine feet tall, genderless and the only features were a pair of bright yellow eyes burning like miniature suns. It's body was humanoid in shape, but utterly black, dotted with white spots all over. It was as if someone had taken a picture of space and wrapped a body in it. "In every world he exists in, he has spoken good words."

"He and many others with a better talent for eloquence than I," the professor replied. "I am forced to borrow the phrases spoken to better explain my own thoughts at times."

"And what failure do you contemplate to make you consider such a line Meddler?"

"Failing to warn someone of a tragedy, and my efforts to make right that mistake."

"You meddle as you like, but even you are bound by the rules as are We." The head of the visitor had not turned or moved at all to indicate where its attention may be, those eyes simply gazing out at the swirling realities around it. "You lack in power, allowing you to move a bit more than our own bindings, you are blameless."

"Only to beings who do not understand the truth of guilt or humanity," he retorted, his fingers clutching at the watch with such intensity that the metal creaked. "I could have warned Ben about what was coming, what they were planning. But I gave a token attempt within the bonds of my rules and trusted him to not be so distracted by the matter at hand to realize what I was hinting at. I should have just stated it and said to hell with the consequences, but I didn't. That will forever weigh on my conscience."

"Is that why you carry that which the Nexus Born forsook in his own penance?"

Paradox sighed and turned the watch over, his thumb pressing the release to let it pop open. Inside was the face of a watch, but it was transparent. The numbers glowed golden with some odd energy, but his gaze was not locked on the diplay but what lay beyond. A miniscule vial rested within the working gears of the watch. It was filled with some odd liquid, viscous, it was a mix of lightly glowing amber and pitch black. "Reality is harsh old friend," he said. "And while he may seek to atone, the world he will make his home is fraught with peril. The powers of aliens, technology and magic will be a great boon and serve him well…but when creatures that mold reality like a potter does clay on a spinning wheel threaten what he holds dear he will need to level the field. I only wish to ensure the chance to heal is there to help him."

"Very well."

Silence hung a moment longer and then Paradox was alone again. He closed the watch and slipped it into his pocket. "Time, friend to no man, waits for no one, so many sayings about it and yet it can never be truly comprehended. I stand and watch its passing, predict outcomes and do my damnedest to make things turn out well. And yet, once again I am reminded of the fact Roman generals were told even on their celebrations of triumph. That I am still only human." He glanced up at the universe one last time, his features showing a hopeful smile as he gazed outward. "The dominoes are being set, the stage pieces are in order. I have done what I can for now, all I can hope is that things work out for the better when the curtains fall." And then he was gone, and the worlds turned on.

XXX—And Cut—XXX

Well, what do y'all think?

Not an action heavy traipse into the imagination, but I do hope it proved entertaining all the same.

Any questions, comments or concerns?

To address any questions that may come concerning my handling of Charles, he has his reasons for reluctance to bring the matter to light. I'm not saying they are great reasons, but there are several reasons I plan to have him actually explain in better detail when things come to a head but for now the reasons are between himself, the guy writing him in this story and the guy who is trusted by the guy writing this story to find his mistakes and help focus the insanity that is his writing method (Kamen Rider Arashi you crazy asshole thanks for all the help since I first stepped onto the writing scene! Also, during the conversation between himself and the ladies Paradox was mentioning those of great names with effects on the future, "And just like how great people inspire the acts of those to come, the actions of a person may taint the future of another if not properly handled" that is his work in full I just found a good spot for it.)

Oh, and if anyone wants to have a visual example of the helmet design I was hinting at for Scott look up the Lost in Space movie scene where Matt Leblanc's helmet unfolds as he's about to start shooting the spiders.

That's all I've got so far, until next time the universe deigns to let me share the brainchild that is my projects I wish you all good times ahead. Until next we cross paths, this is Yurei King signing out!