Early Monday morning, and Duncan Matthews was sitting in the meeting room. Though the room was filled with competitive, untrustworthy, FOH leaders like him, it was quiet. There was a long, rectangular table in the middle, with swivel chairs on every side but one. Duncan's seat was near the end of the table, to the right of Douglas Smith, so-called head supervisor of that particular Friends of Humanity branch.

"I've been informed that the mission in Boston on Saturday night didn't quite go as expected." He shifted his gaze at Larkin. "What the hell happened?" Each syllable was heavily stressed.

Larkin coughed slightly before speaking. "Well, we went there and... uh..."

Smith arched his eyebrows. "And?"

"We... pretty much... uhm, found... nothing, sir." Larkin looked down, afraid to look at the boss.

Douglas Smith was in his late forties, loud-mouthed, very hot-tempered, and a mammoth of a man. His puffy face was lined with wrinkles, and at the moment, it was also redder than ever. Everyone in the room looked nervous, especially one with the name of Casey Larkin. Duncan Matthews was holding back a smile.

Smith was angry, as usual. "Nothing? Nothing! Somebody must have tipped them off!" He was shouting now. "Or maybe, there were never any mutants in the first place!"

He continued yelling for another five minutes before he finally dismissed them, swearing to God that Larkin would definitely not be receiving an assignment anytime soon. They all piled up to the door, anxious to get out.

"Matthews."

Duncan heard his name just as he reached the door, and he couldn't help but smile inside. He turned around to face Smith. "I want to talk to you for a second," he said calmly, very different from when he was angrily screaming just moments before.

"Of course," Duncan replied and waited for others to fully step outside before closing the door.

"Now look here, I can't afford another blunder like Larkin," Smith said in a low voice, looking at him, his face deathly serious. "I received new orders this morning, Matthews. This is top secret, very important."

Duncan listened intently, hanging onto every word. His eyes widened in surprise as he heard his new assignment, his heart beating as fast as it did when he saw Jean the night before, standing in his balcony like a beautiful, haunting ghost.

-

-

-

-

-

Duncan doubted he'd be seeing Jean again anytime soon. He figured since they were still fighting on opposite sides of the game, they didn't really have any reason to see each other. So when he saw her again a little more than a week after their last meeting, it was really quite a shock.

He walked a block from their office during lunch break, and bought lunch in a Starbucks. A healthy turkey sandwich and a bottled water. No wonder he was losing a lot of weight. He usually had lunch back in the office, but when he turned around from the counter, he saw her sitting alone at a table, looking at him expectantly. He hesitated, glancing around the small coffeehouse, wondering if anybody knew that there was a mutant with them. But then again, Jean looked perfectly normal. Other than the fact that she could very well pass off for a model, people were oblivious to her.

She was carefully dressed —though no one would ever suspect that— so that she wouldn't attract a lot of attention. She was wearing jeans, white sneakers, and a gray hooded sweater. Her hair was in a high ponytail, and she wore no make-up. A tall cup of (probably) hot coffee was in front of her. Very casual. Nothing out of the ordinary.

He finally decided to approach her, and sat down opposite her without a word. They were sitting by the window, and this surprised him. He would've expected her to choose a table at a back corner...

It was a good strategy, he then realized. She was acting like any other person. Everything was normal. So it seemed.

"Hey," she said with an easy smile. She made it sound like they were best friends. If only.

"Hello. Is it just a crazy coincidence that out of the hundreds of Starbucks out there, you and I are in the same one?"

She laughed softly, which made Duncan smile. "No, no. I've actually been... well, I've been watching you for the past week."

This made him chuckle, though he couldn't help but feel slightly nervous inside. "Oh really?"

She nodded, but was suddenly eager to change the subject. "Do you always buy lunch here?"

"Sort of. I kind of alternate between Starbucks and the Subway across the street."

"I never knew you for a sandwich guy, a healthy sandwich guy," she quickly corrected herself. "When we dated, you usually took me to Burger King or McDonald's. Sometimes even Pizza Hut."

The topic of their past relationship made him feel uneasy, but it didn't seem to affect Jean at all. At least on the outside. "Yeah," he said slowly. "But I've changed."

Jean looked at him. And smiled a little too late. "I know. We both have."

Duncan opened his mouth to say something, but Jean was already on her feet. She threw her cup away at a trash can near the door and stepped outside, mixing with the bustling crowd easily.

He closed his mouth, a little surprised, a little amazed. "See you," he murmured, looking down at his food. As expected, he wasn't feeling hungry at all.

-

-

-

-

-

The organization worked in many different ways. But to make all things simple, Duncan's job was mainly to sit in his office staring at the phone. The phone used to ring at least twenty times a day. The system was a little like 911. Citizens were encouraged to call the Friends of Humanity hotline whenever they suspected a mutant's presence, and soldiers would be sent there as soon as possible to deal with the problem and save the day.

But now, they were lucky if the phone rang twice in an afternoon. Mutants had become careful, discreet. And since most of them looked like normal human beings, that didn't help either.

At four thirty, Duncan used the elevator to get into the parking lot. He walked to his blue convertible and unlocked it. It had been his car for six years. A 1999 Mitsubishi Eclipse, it was very expensive when his parents first bought it for his 17th birthday. He could easily buy a new car if he wanted, but this one suited him nicely for now. Besides, he was feeling more than just a little attached to it. He was only a few feet from the driver's side when he heard a voice call out.

"Yo, Matthews!"

Larkin. Wonderful. Duncan turned to see the man approaching him. "Hey, you going home already?" Larkin asked.

"Yeah, actually. I've... had a long day," he said, hoping the guy would get the message and leave him alone.

"Yeah? Well, so did I," he replied. "I mean, seriously, you were there this morning, right?" Duncan sighed. "Grouch acted like it was my fault. I mean, c'mon! How the hell was I supposed to know there weren't gonna be any muties?"

Duncan nodded. "Yeah, sure. Hey, listen man. I'm goin' home now, okay? So.. I'll see you around," he said quickly, opened the door and slid into the driver's seat.

"Hey wait, Dunc!"

Duncan grimaced. He hated that nickname. "How about we go grab some drinks? You know, just to help forget about today for a while. We need a little bit of fun every now and then, you know."

Duncan silently debated in his head. It was a Monday night, but a few drinks wouldn't hurt, he thought to himself. After all, with this whole thing with Jean and his new assignment that would probably start as early as next week...

The last time he went out with friends was probably two months ago. He deserved to have a fun night, he decided. "Okay, fine. Get in," he said, nodding his head to the passenger seat.

"Nah, we don't have to take that. I know a good place within walking distance," Larkin replied, then grinned. "This is gonna be fun, Matthews."

Fun? Hanging with you? It better be.

-

-

-

-

-

It was crazy, and it was loud. The night before, there had been a local rock band playing on stage. They played alternative music; not exactly something a lot of people danced to. The owner realized this, and after the band finished their gig, he immediately hired a deejay to work for the next night. And so when Duncan Matthews and Casey Larkin walked in, techno music was blaring off the speakers, and everyone was dancing all over the dance floor.

Duncan was never a fan of high-pitched, beeping sounds that seemed to go on and on and on, and almost immediately, he felt a headache start to surface.

"Whoo!" Larkin yelled, already a sly grin on his face.

Duncan glanced at him, "I'm goin' to the bar."

"What?"

"I said I'm going to the bar!"

"What? I can't hear you!"

"Goddamn it, Larkin! I said I'm going to the fucking bar!"

"Jeez, Matthews! You don't have to be all— "

Duncan didn't hear the rest. He was already on his way to the counter, grabbing a round seat. The bartender was on the other side, paying attention to other customers, and Duncan didn't feel like yelling his drink. He sighed heavily. He was already regretting that he agreed to a 'fun' night out.

"You don't look like you're having a lot of fun."

Duncan looked up and saw a young attractive brunette flashing a smile at him. "That's because I'm not," he replied bluntly.

"Oh, that's too bad." She crossed her perfectly tanned legs as she sat next to him. "You know, I've never... met, a soldier before."

At that, he couldn't help but grin. This night could still be fun after all. "Yeah?"

"Mm-hmm," she murmured, her hands already on his chest, running her slender fingers on his vest.

'Wow, talk about being forward.'

Duncan jerked his head back. He could've sworn he heard Jean's voice right then...

The woman looked up at him in surprise, and then suddenly, without a word, she stood up and walked away.

"What?" Duncan's gaze followed her as she disappeared through the ladies' room. What the hell just happened?

"I guess she lost interest," a sarcastic, very familiar, feminine voice said.

Duncan turned his head to the place where the brunette had just been sitting. He blinked in surprise. Jean was sitting there, wearing a short black dress, beautiful as ever, and looking very amused.

"Wha — how?"

She smiled. "Easy. I had to get rid of her," she said, tapping a forefinger to her temple. "Now I only have a couple of seconds, and I just had to warn you to stay away from the stage, okay?"

"What?"

"Stay away from the stage, Duncan," she repeated in a louder voice. Then giving him a small peck on the cheek, she sauntered away through the crowd. He stared.

"Damn, Matthews. Who was that?" It was Larkin's voice this time.

"Huh?"

"I said, who was that, Matthews? She was fuckin' hot!"

Duncan shook his head, trying to clear his head. Too much was happening too fast. "Oh her? She was just... an old friend..."

"Just an old friend?" Larkin grinned. "Well in that case, I guess you wouldn't have any objections if I ask for her num—"

He never got to finish his sentence as a small explosion erupted at the stage. A larger blast occurred a second later, and it sent the deejay flying to the floor.

Duncan was up from his seat in a flash, as everyone was suddenly screaming and panicking towards the exit. His mind immediately remembered what Jean told him just a minute ago. And he sighed. "Ah, shit."

"Muties!"

"What?"

"Damn muties! I betcha they're behind this, Matthews!" Larkin yelled through the screaming people.

Both soldiers were pushing hard against the crowd, hands on their guns, trying to make it through the stage where the explosions started. Everyone else was eager to get as far away as possible. Smoke and dust were everywhere, clouding the view and making it hard to breath. It was suddenly very hot, and if it weren't for his duty as a member of the Friends of Humanity, Duncan would probably already be outside and not giving a damn.

Finally, they made it past the lessening crowd and across the dance floor. The place was still dim, except for the continuous flash of disco lights.

Looking up at the stage, he could barely see anything; the gray air was too thick, but a rapid movement caught his eye. He didn't know what or who it was, but he was determined to find out. It can't be Jean…

"Let's check it out," he said to Larkin. The other man nodded, raising his gun. But before Duncan could even take one step forward, a red beam emitted from somewhere behind the smoke onstage. The light zoomed past him, and hit Larkin square on the chest, throwing him back against the other side of the room. His body slid down to the floor, his mind unconscious.

Jerking his head back to where the light came from, Duncan fired his gun blindly at the stage, his shots disappearing through the smoke. It was useless, and he knew it.

Without warning, the mysterious red light flashed again, but this time, it was shot upwards. Its aim was true, and it released a dark metal beam that hung from above, making it fall...

-

-

-

-

-

Duncan glanced up and froze, watching helplessly as the sight of it grew bigger and bigger.

He didn't feel it. But everything was suddenly black. His eyes were closed, and he was afraid to open them.

Am I dead?

He dared to breath. There was an odd, musky stench. He felt a headache, and he tried to put his hands to his temples... but he couldn't. He opened his eyes, slowly. There was a single light, right above his head. He was in a small, dark room, and he was sitting at the center, hands and feet bound to a wooden rigid chair.

The dark green walls were made of thick bricks. They looked damp. There were no windows, but there was a door. Brown and made of wood, with a rusting silver doorknob.

He blinked hard, trying to clear his mind. He tried to remember...

What happened? Why was he here? Where is here?

Suddenly, he heard something.

Voices.

He could tell there was more than one person. They were getting louder, but he couldn't make out the words. Each second was filled with suspense, and his heart was beating at an alarming rate.

Finally, the door opened. And in that one second, Duncan's heart rose to the highest heavens, and then sank to the darkest of hells.

Jean Grey. Scott Summers. They were in dark and bright uniforms. Black and green. Blue and yellow.

Now what? Duncan thought absently.

Scott was not wearing his red shades for once, but he was wearing a strange kind of visor on his face. Duncan struggled to remember why Summers always had something on his face...

He had read it once on his file...

Of course! To block the red concussive beams his eyes... released...

Fuck! It was Summers back at the club! How could he have been so stupid?!

Scott spoke first, and not without disgust in his tone. "You're awake."

"Summers, I can't believe it. You're still alive."

"And sadly, so are you."

Duncan glared. Scott smirked, knowing a glare in return would be no good.

"Okay, okay, enough. You know what? This probably wasn't such a good idea after all," Jean said as she stood between them. "Scott, I'll handle this."

"Yeah, Summers. No worries. She can handle me," Duncan added, and forced the slyest grin he could muster on his face.

Scott ignored the comment in honor of Jean's request a few minutes before they had entered the room. "Fine, Jean. But if he tries anything, and I mean anything, then there is nothing in this world that can stop me from giving him what he deserves."

When Scott finally disappeared through the door, Jean shook her head.

"What is it?" Duncan asked her, slightly concerned.

"Nothing," she replied, but turned to looked at him. "It just amuses me how some people never grow up."

"Yeah, tell me about it. I mean, after all these years, Scott still has grudges against me."

"Oh shut up, Duncan." And with that, Jean telekinetically clamped his mouth shut, making him mumble in protest. She released her hold after silently counting to ten and calming down.

"Whoa," Duncan exclaimed. "I didn't know you could do that."

Jean eyed him, and smirked. "Duncan, I can do a lot more than that."

He could barely believe it — Jean was flirting. He laughed. Scott would probably kill him right then if he knew what was happening.

"But right now," she said, in a very different, more serious tone, "There's something we have to talk about."

"Oh," he said, clearly in disappointment. "That's why you guys kidnapped me, right?"

"We didn't— " Jean started, but stopped. "Okay, you're right. I guess we did sort of... kidnap you."

"You know, if someone had asked me back in high school of who was likely to grow up into a criminal, you and Summers would be the last people I've guessed."

Jean stared at him, taking in his words. "We're not criminals, Duncan. We're mutants, but that doesn't make us criminals."

"I know that, but I wasn't talking about that, Jean. I was talking about this whole kidnapping thing!" Duncan said, raising his voice slightly. He stopped and sighed. A sad smile appeared on his face. "You know, you could've just asked me out. If you wanted to talk about something, we could've talked about it over a cup of coffee... maybe in a Starbucks?"

Jean let a small laugh escape her lips. "Maybe," she said. "But this is important. We just couldn't risk it."

"Yeah. And besides, Summers would probably have a fit if he knew you were out on a date with me."

Jean narrowed her eyes at him. "What do you mean?"

Duncan raised a brow.

Jean looked utterly confused.

"Ohh," Duncan murmured. He grinned. "Nothing. Never mind," he replied quickly, suddenly feeling elated. "What was it that you wanted to talk about again?"

"Duncan… it's about Professor Charles Xavier."

His eyes widened as he heard the name. Did he just hear what he just heard? How did she know? Did she read his mind when he was unconscious?

"I know your next assignment involves him," she continued, "and I need you to tell me where he's being held."

Duncan scoffed. "Are you serious?"

Jean knelt in front of him and covering both his hands with hers, she looked up and softly said, "Yes."

Duncan almost lost himself staring into her beautiful green eyes. He saw it filled with emotion, pleading with him. His mind was racing. Where did his loyalties lie? To an ex-girlfriend? Or to an entire organization to which he had already dedicated five years of his life?

The answer seemed obvious, but he couldn't believe it was the right one. He was torn in the midst of it all. He was going to lose something important one way or the other...

I suppose this is what I get for backstabbing Larkin, Duncan thought bitterly. Damn the guy. Goddamn him.