I am sure this waistband was not this snug yesterday, and I didn't eat that much. What happened—did my middle expand overnight? I'm sure my breasts did. How much bigger are these things going to get? Grace Engstrom had no choice but to put on some of the same clothes from the day before. Knowing that, she had washed her underwear and bra by hand the night before. Eleanor, her hostess, provided her with a fresh top, but she had to put on the same slacks, and they no longer fastened quite as easily.

She fiddled with her bra straps again. How could I have ignored what was really happening to my body? I've been loosening these things on all my bras for at least two weeks now, because of the tenderness—which, I might as well face it, was caused by swelling. I should have gone shopping for maternity bras yesterday. Oh, well.

Eleanor knocked on the bathroom door. "Are you sure you're up to sorting through the mess?"

"If I'm not, I'll just go up to the workroom and pack up things there. My brother Daniel called—he has the U-Haul, and he should be here no later than one." The second best thing to come out of all this, after the baby, is that my family hasn't abandoned me.

She ran a brush through her hair, and went out to face the task of salvaging what she could of her old life.

"Have you seen the news this morning?" asked Eleanor, as they crossed the green space to enter Grace's house by the back way, avoiding the media.

"No." She had been unable to sleep for hours, shaky with fatigue and wound up. Since she was awake, she had passed the time reading the expectant mother reference book, until she nodded off—and overslept as a result.

"It's pretty bad. They were talking about bringing in federal troops. Grace, your plan to drive home with your brother—it may not work. Just off the townhouse community property, there's a mob of protesters."

"But—No. Right now, I'm going to concentrate on what I can handle." She glanced down at the lamb, tucked in the top of her purse. I'll just have to hope they keep on warning me. So far that morning, they hadn't said a word.

The police lieutenant who met them at her back door greeted them politely, and told Grace that 'Mrs. Bertram, from your doctor's office', had dropped off her medical file.

She thanked him, and she and Eleanor went into her kitchen. So Melody came through for me. Now all I need is for a 'bald guy on wheels' to show up. How is my medical record supposed to help the mutant cause?

However, there was no time to wonder about that, because of all the work to be done. Unpleasant as it was, the heaps and piles of Grace's damaged belongings had to be sorted through, cleaned up, and, if anything was more or less intact, salvaged.

The two women set to work, picking over the piles of clothing, turning over the rubbish for unexpected finds—a tiny earthenware teapot, found intact under a table, a drawer of silverware that had gone overlooked.

"Grace?" asked Eleanor, as they worked. "You seemed to be stressed out enough last night, so I didn't bring it up, but—you're pregnant?"

"Yes, and I'm very happy about it."

"That's just wonderful. I'm very happy for you. I didn't even know you were trying again." Eleanor held up a blouse and inspected it for damage.

"I wasn't. This is a miracle baby—completely unexpected and unplanned. And don't ask me how, because I have no idea. Well, obviously I know how, or at least who, but not why." Grace straightened up and rubbed her back with both hands.

"Who is the father—if I'm not being too intrusive?"

"Don't you mean nosy? No, it's all right. I have to come up with an answer sometime. This is just between us. It was in Australia, it was my birthday, and there was alcohol involved."

"Oh, dear. It's that bad?"

"I'm afraid so. I—didn't even get his full name. How I am ever going to explain this to my kid, I don't know. I'm making it sound sleazier than it was. I was drinking champagne, and he struck up a conversation. He was a very attractive man—silver haired, tall—."

The lion spoke up from her pocket. "Magnetic."

"And very charming, too."

"Magnetic." The lion repeated. She smacked its pocket. I will tell this my way, she thought.

"Intelligent, as well."

"Magnetic." insisted the lion.

What is it getting at? "We talked—then he asked me to dance. There was a wedding in the hotel, and their band played a waltz."

"A waltz? How old was he?"

"I would say he was a little older than you."

"Older than I am?" wondered the sixty-year old Eleanor. "Viagra is a wonderful thing."

"I don't think he took any. Doesn't that stuff only last an hour?"

"Grace! I'm shocked." laughed Eleanor.

"I was surprised, myself. After the dance, he suggested we get another bottle of champagne and drink it upstairs in his room. That was about nine weeks ago."

"Was there anything unusual about him? I do have a reason for asking other than pure prurience."

"Nothing I haven't mentioned already." Grace bent down and scooped shredded lingerie into a garbage bag.

"Might he be a mutant, too?"

"Eleanor—your guess is as good as mine."

"It might explain why you weren't able to conceive before. You said they never found anything wrong with you—except that you didn't have children."

"That's enough, isn't it?"

"Maybe you were trying to breed with the wrong species." Eleanor concluded.

Grace straightened up again. "That's an interesting idea. And now I think I'm going to go throw up."


Magneto and the Brotherhood were on their way to Ann Arbor as well. Although the X-Men had the head-start, the Master of Magnetism had asked himself, Who would McCoy, sellout lickspittle to the humans that he is, recommend to the President as a 'special escort', and what 'safe house in another state' could he mean?—and guessed, correctly, He would turn to Charles, of course. He had roused his followers—and at that hour of the morning, that was no small thing—and told them to make haste.

Mystique had wanted to know why he was bothering to go to the rescue of this particular mutant, and he had explained "Because I want to." And left it at that.

He usually explained his plans to her—at least partially. Now he could feel her suspicious eyes on him, watching him. He did not care. Their relationship had been moderately long, but it continued more out of habit than an overwhelming passion. From the start, she had made it clear that it would not be an exclusive one, and he had accepted that, turning a blind eye to quite a lot.

He did not imagine having difficulty getting out of it, however.

At the moment, though, his thoughts were elsewhere.

That night in Australia, he had told Lucy-Grace, smilingly, at almost the last moment before that information would be a little too late, "In the spirit of keeping with the times, I can tell you that although I have no diseases, as far as I am aware, I'm still fertile. As spontaneous as this is, I'm afraid I have no, er, 'precautions' with me."

She had smiled back, a hint of pain in the corner of her mouth, and replied, "I am also disease-free, and I have no 'precautions' with me either. However, after trying for eight years—I'll spare you the details—I can't have children."

He had said, "I'm sorry." Although for the sake of mutantkind, he was just as pleased she could not add to the ranks of Homo Sapiens, on a personal level, he could feel sympathy for her.

She was not lying. There was too much sadness and regret in her eyes, her voice. As far as she knew, she was telling the truth. But she might have been mistaken.

And she was telling the truth, if unwisely, on television the night before. Her revelation was fuelling the hated of the mob—at least half the placards referred to her pregnancy, with slogans like 'Her mother should have had an abortion'.

There is a chance I could be the father of her child. It is not clinical proof, but a history of eight years of infertility, of fruitless efforts to conceive, set against one unplanned night—it is possible. If her genes were sufficiently different from the Sapient norm, no human man could give her children, nor could a human embryo thrive in her womb.

Perhaps this is the beginning of the Divergence. Perhaps here and now, mutantkind shall become a true species.