Note: In about a week Shadow Man will have been posted and in progress for 13 months. Wow. And not done yet. This chapter took forever, but I hope it is finally right.

Disclaimer: In my long absence I have not aquired the rights to X-men. They don't belong to me. I don't make any money from this. It's just for fun.

Chapter Twenty

Scott eased the motorcycle off onto the grass at the top of the cut-back trail that lead to the highest point above the reservoir. He felt his heart thudding steadily in his chest. It wasn't the craziness of charging a bike the size of the Harley up a slope designed for light off-roaders that electrified his body. It was the feel of Marie's arms clenched tight around his mid-section.

He kicked down the stand and waited while Marie slid off the seat before swinging his own leg over and free of the machine. He managed to keep the movements smooth. When he leaned back against the bike, he felt sure he looked relaxed. All that aroused excitement remained safely locked under his skin.

"So, what now? Gazing out over the water? Bird watching?"

Her eyes widened fractionally, then narrowed when she realized he'd trapped her with the joke. He loved how mobile her mouth was, flattening, then pouting, then teeth nipping the lower edge ever so briefly as she worked through her own feelings. "Be nice. I'm a little nervous here."

I could love you. He almost said it aloud, but didn't because he didn't want to unsettle her more, at least not that way. He felt all the little muscles under his skin flex, a sharp urging toward action. Yet deep inside he remained utterly still, waiting. The arousal he'd expected, given why they were here. The calm surprised him. Was this mix of stillness and tension what being high felt like? "We don't have to rush, you know. It's not a race."

"Don't have to dawdle either." Marie's nails bumped down the leather sleeve of his jacket. When she reached his wrist she caught hold and gave a tug. The tension under his skin seemed to pop while the weighted calm inside rooted ever deeper. "If you wait too long we'll wind up fumbling around in the dark."

"Night vision." He tapped his visor. "Trust me. I won't fumble."

"You're so weird." Her nervousness broke on a laugh. She leaned against him. The feel of her, warm and solid against his body, jolted him. "I kinda like that."

He liked the teasing, and the serious way she looked at him in that same moment. He felt his shoulders release, leaving him free to explore the inner stillness further. "Good."

He didn't mean only that she liked his strange side, nor did he mean the slightly high feeling racing through his body alone. Rather the whole of being with her and being able to relax again pleased him. Scott realized he hadn't relaxed since Jean disappeared beneath that flood at Alkali Lake. He'd been bound and his focus locked, first on despair and then on duty. That strange inner stillness was just relaxation -- he'd forgotten the sensation.

Marie was reminding him. She snuggled her arms around his waist under his jacket. Her hands stroked lightly up his spine. Her movements allowed little eddies of cool air to sneak under the hem of the jacket into the heated space between his body and the leather. The chill called attention to how his cotton shirt stuck to his back, how her fingers scraped the fabric. He wondered if she liked that his body, collecting the sun's energy as it always did, was a few degrees hotter than most.

Scott locked his own hands together at the base of her spine. "First times are hard. Not just virginity, but first times together. It's better to go slow."

"As long as it's still going." Her voice sounded determined, but hints of uncertainty lingered in her eyes and in the way her nails bit briefly into his back muscles. "I have this crazy fear that you're going to tell me you brought me up here just to say we can't do this."

She wanted to be kissed, he knew, to just move on with the comfortable and mindless release of sex. Instead he held them in this unsettled pause. He liked watching his own responses unfold. Jean always rushed this part, told him what his emotions were practically before he experienced them. Here, with Marie, he was free to feel at his own pace. But, he didn't want her to think he was reluctant. "I'm not going to say that."

"So you do want to make that vision of mine, of Irene's, happen? Right?" She worked a hand free and traced her fingers across his cheek bone.

The touch shouldn't have startled, but it did. He shied away, warning, "Careful." But, it wasn't the visor he was protecting. Intimacy was the danger, the sharing of secrets physical and not. He wasn't certain how she would take his hidden truths. Still, he owed them to her. "I don't know about visions. And I don't know what you want this to be beyond a fulfillment of some fantasy. But, I know what I need is somewhere between sex and forever. It's not a simple thing."

"I don't think I know what that means." Her accent was thick.

It would have been easy to turn things to joking, about her drawl or about himself. But that wouldn't be honest, or intimate. "I'm not casual."

"About anything. I know that about you, Scott. You are the most driven, intense person I've ever met."

The truth wasn't as hard to say as he expected it to be, nor did it destroy the peace inside him. If anything, spilling words left more room for the still, relaxed feeling that shouldn't have blended so seamlessly with desire. "I want to be something else with you. I want us to be a haven from all the world's storm."

That made her smile all the way to her eyes. She squeezed his ribs with one arm. "I guess I was kind of expecting you to grab the way other guys would, which is stupid, really not you."

"I could grab." He did, because he could and it felt right. She squealed. And kissing her was the right thing, the only thing, to do. The touch of mouths was a little shock.

Marie never hesitated. She surged up, pressing as much of herself against him as possible. Her hands fisted his shirt, one right over his spine and the other at his collar. Their teeth bumped and she backed away, mumbling apology for clumsy eagerness. Then, she came right back for another kiss. If he hadn't loved her before, that tiny act of determination would have felled him.

He maneuvered them away from the bike toward a stand of rock that fronted the trees. Half-way there, they both stumbled. They would have fallen hard if he hadn't blocked the collapse with his hands. She was still clinging to him when they landed in the grass and she was laughing.

He became instantly aware of every spot their bodies touched. It was too much, too fast. He didn't want to scare her. Or maybe it was himself he didn't want to frighten. "Okay, a bit out of practice on the grabbing."

"And here I thought you'd planned it to turn out this way." She wiggled farther under him. He rested his weight on his elbows and thought about how comfortable he felt lying against her. Not alarming as he'd momentarily feared. Safe.

A strange thing to feel in a moment like this, for both Scott in particular, and, he suspected, for men in general. Desire rasped all the senses raw, and he could find that eagerness scratching just below the surface balm of peace. Any moment physical need would break through, and he would welcome it. But, for this instant, he savored this gift of calm, surprising safety.

He'd gone without this sense of security longer than he had without relaxation. He thought he hadn't felt it since before Logan arrived. Not that the other man caused its loss. The events surrounding Magneto's plot to use Marie had pushed Jean's abilities and woken Phoenix. That split, not Logan's coincidental arrival, had been the end of Scott's comfort. Of his safety.

Safety not from danger, but for itself. It was the safety to relax, to be just Scott, and to feel. Before Phoenix, Jean had given him something that was right enough and dear enough, protected enough that it would always be. He'd known then, whatever else exploded in his world, they would be. That knowledge had been his strength.

And its loss had been the weakness The Eater exploited. It reminded him of all the little moments that once eased him -- reading the paper with her, feeding her ice cream, reclining with his head in her lap while they talked with Ororo and Hank about a brighter future -- and then reminded him how easily they had been snatched away. He'd lost his belief that anything could be secure.

That loss was why he wanted to hold and hesitate now. He wanted to hold this moment of perfect safety as long as he could because nothing was safe or permanent. But, Marie wouldn't let him freeze. She tugged at his jacket, ready to race forward. That was her courage.

Marie wouldn't offer the safety of a quiet place. She'd be a partner at his back. She would charge danger. She'd challenge his caution. She wasn't Jean, healing and compromising. Life with her would be more adventure than comfort. And that was its own safety, the safety of strength.

He let her remove his jacket, didn't protest when her fingers worked the buttons at the front of his shirt. Partly, it was the power of desire uncoiling and stretching though him. Partly, it was an unwillingness to be a coward in the face of her certainty. He caught her hand, drew a little circle on her wrist with his thumb. Her bones seemed so slight, so frail, and he realized he'd been thinking of her that way. But, she wasn't weak. The pulse beneath his thumb matched his own, weighted and strong.

She kissed his throat. "What are you afraid of?"

"I'm not--" he started, but that was a lie. He was afraid. "I am, of losing this."

"I won't go off and kill myself." She was staring at him steadily. Her eyes showed a little fear that she'd gone too far, but also a stubborn insistence that he face the truth.

Maybe all safety wasn't brittle as crystal. Maybe this time he could move and it wouldn't shatter around him. She offered him a new, strong safety, and one he could believe in.

Scott stroked her cheek. He leaned down to kiss her, and let desire take hold.

--

Ororo wasn't surprised to find Hank with a suitcase resting beside his leg as he locked the door to the room he'd been staying in. Vague disappointment was the only emotion she could muster. "Leaving, I see."

He had the grace to frown. "I suppose you haven't been watching the news today."

"I've been busy with things closer to home. Scott's meeting. The returning students. I still need to decide whether to try to find Jimmy's parents or not."

"You'll handle it all, Ororo. You're good at administration."

"I thought you were going to stay for a while."

"I was." He bent to pick up the luggage at his feet. He was wearing a full suit, tie tucked tight up against his neck. "But, the White House called. The president wants to talk to me. It has something to do with imprudent and prejudiced statements the Ambassador to the UN made today. The man's already resigned."

"So you have to run." Amazingly, her tone didn't sound bitter. She was getting past the resentment she'd been carrying. Scott was right. She was finding herself again. Maybe the person she was discovering would be different, no longer nostalgic about hot chocolate at night and less dogmatic in her sense of right and wrong, but Ororo was finally willing to look her in the face.

"It's the president," Hank said, as if that explained it all. For him it probably did.

"What about Cerebro? I thought Scott was counting on you to help him with the repairs. Finding Magneto is vital too, especially if he is possessed by one of these monsters." Eater of Souls was too gruesome for her to say.

"We finished the important troubleshooting this afternoon. I've arranged for the parts Scott needs to be delivered. And I'll contact a telepath I know in Chicago once I get back to Washington."

That finished things then. Ororo hoped he'd move first, that he'd make all the awkward gestures and mumbled goodbyes. But, he didn't. He just looked like he was about to say he was sorry.

So, she smiled broadly, the same smile she'd plastered on her face when he first arrived. "Then I guess I can only say 'good luck and safe trip'. I hope you'll at least call and keep us updated."

His expression shifted from relieved to surprised and maybe a little hurt. She liked the latter better. Vindictive, she supposed. "I will. I promise."

And then he was going. She watched his back until he disappeared down the stairs. Another promise had been broken. She waited for the hurt. It never came.

--

Marie remembered the first kiss she ever shared. It was a jerking, awkward touch, all butterflies-under-the-skin. She hadn't known, as she leaned forward, it would end with David pale and twitching in catatonic distress. Still, she'd been nervous. She'd liked David well enough, mostly because he didn't remind her of the risks when she talked about wanting adventure. He was cute too. Her best friend had told her he'd never be interested, and that fact as much as anything urged her toward him rather than away when he moved to kiss her.

But she'd never wanted to keep David. He'd been an opportunity to experience all those secrets the girls at school giggled about. She couldn't pass up that chance. But, she'd worried that kissing him would push her into a relationship she didn't really want.

She'd wanted just a kiss, and adventure. She'd gotten the destruction of her whole life.

It was different when she started dating Bobby. She'd learned what it was to be totally alone and now was in a place where people understood her. A boyfriend was part of being accepted. Bobby was safe, never frightening. Still, when he tried to kiss her, she shied away. She'd tried to tell herself it was fear of hurting him that stopped her, and that probably was a big part. But, Marie understood her power didn't take hold at the first brush of skin. She could count a few seconds before the leeching began. A few seconds wasn't much of a kiss, but it was something.

It was Bobby's insistence that she wouldn't hurt him that made her pull away. Every time he said, 'I'm not afraid' she felt as if she were being tested. If she loved him, she wouldn't use her powers on him. If she cared enough, she'd control her power.

She'd wanted security. She'd wound up feeling she would never be good enough to belong.

Which brought her to Scott and this moment of electrified excitement when they finally sank to the grass together. He'd abandoned his irritating reluctance for aggressive passion, and her whole body felt tingled. She'd wanted this for so long. Now it was happening and all she wanted was to forget thought and allow sensation to control her.

Her skin tingled where he touched, even through her clothing. She opened her mouth and his tongue tested the little space between her front teeth before she could draw it in. Taste, touch, even the sound of breeze rustling the leaves overhead sent shivers through her.

She'd moved beyond the need for adventure, beyond the insecurities about belonging. This wasn't mere curiosity. She felt none of the tight, nervous twitching that she associated with kissing David, certainly none of the dragging responsibility Bobby put on her. Scott was easy to touch. He instinctively tilted his head to avoid bumping noses or crashing teeth. When she slid her hands up his back, under his shirt, he moved just right against her.

She could kiss him as long as she wanted, as deeply as she wanted. There was no risk, no cost, nothing to worry about this time. Let go, she told herself. Enjoy.

That he knew how to kiss added to the pleasure, of course, but Marie didn't want to think about that. She didn't want to remember he'd loved anyone before, or that he might not ever be totally and completely hers. She wanted to believe they were unique in this moment. He said he wasn't casual. She was only now realizing how serious this all was for her as well.

The horrible emptiness she'd felt this after noon when she thought he wanted to reject her, the longing fantasies, the confusion, even her anger at Bobby were symptoms. She should have recognized what they meant. Only love could be this easy, and comfortable, and terrifyingly important.

Her mind rebelled. Want him, yes. He was handsome and sexy and she could touch him. But, love him? She was a renegade soul whose first fantasies were adventure trips hitchhiking across the continent. Scott was stuffy, demanding, rules-bound. She tacked beads and feathers to her walls. He stacked his quarters on the dresser. And he loved so deeply he'd fight from outside this dimension to save someone he cared about. He was brave enough to die for what he believed was right.

She'd watched him struggle to lead even when he couldn't be seen. He pushed himself, challenged himself, when most people would curl into a little self-pitying ball. And when Storm unfairly told him he hadn't done enough, he just pushed himself harder. Marie wanted to cradle him, to support him, to be worthy of taking his back in his fight. He matched her, contrasted her, forced her to grow up. He was so much more than sex to her. She couldn't relegate him to a tryst.

On that thought desire twisted her insides, a friction coil that made her spine arch and her nails dig into the skin at his back. No soft butterflies this time. This was a predatory, possessive longing. Need more than want. She pressed her face against his neck. The skin there was taut, smooth except for a tiny patch under his jaw he'd missed while shaving. She licked the rough place, adoring the small imperfection. The touch of her tongue made him gasp.

That was exciting.

She pushed her hand up his back -- his skin was so warm -- and into his hair. It had been so short when they met, military and harsh. Now it had grown out and curled. That should have softened him. She liked that it didn't.

He used his teeth against her shoulder, and little shivers radiated from the spot. She hadn't realized before that the skin there was exposed. "How did that happen?"

"What?"

"Nothing." And then in a burst she said, "I think I love you."

Scott pulled back enough to look at her. Behind his glasses she saw his eyes glittering as narrow rings of crimson fire eclipsed by his expanded pupils. "I don't mind that at all."

A vivid blue sky, the color of his eyes when she first looked into them, framed his face. Cool breeze rippled against their bodies. Under her skin she was electrified. And she wanted to freeze the moment before the rest of Irene's vision, whatever it was, could push in. If they never moved the world couldn't turn and pull them apart.

This is the pivot. We'll never be this close again.

This time the tremble racing through her came from fear. Marie fought that unwanted emotion. She fisted her hands in his shirt and he had to struggle a bit with the sleeves before she could pull it off. But, then she had only skin to press against from shoulders to hips. That was glorious. She felt wild and powerful. She could beat the fear of her power, of her past. She could defeat anything. Without thinking, she raked teeth over his ear, bit hard into the tight muscle of his shoulder.

He let out a surprised sound, half hiss and half growl. Perhaps the commander had his own wild side. Now that was a delicious thought. Marie wanted to slide into mindless exploration of the possibility.

There was no reason for paranoia. They would have a thousand moments just as close, a life together. She would learn what it was to fall asleep pressed next to him, to wake up curled together. No reason that shouldn't be their future.

Except she knew, suddenly, that future wouldn't be. With the same certainty that had told her touching him would make him visible, she knew sex would pull him fully back to reality. Once that happened he'd be as vulnerable to her power as everyone else.

She squeezed her arms around him as if that would crush the horrible fears. She looped a leg over his hip, pulling him down hard, and wished they were already out of their jeans so they could join and he could take her thoughts away. She didn't want to think anymore. She wanted the wonderful, mindless sensations of a moment earlier. The air had grown so heavy it was hard to breathe, much less talk. Her heart beat so frantically she thought her ribs might rattle.

"I love you and I'm going to lose you." The words slipped out along with the sorrow they brought.

"You won't." As if to prove it, he pressed his body closer. He kissed her eyelids and cradled her face between his hands.

"My shadow man," she whispered as she stroked fingers over his mouth. She hadn't imagined Scott's face when she first pretended, but now his was the only face she could see when she thought of touching. The thought of losing him now hurt more than leaving her parents had, more than thinking she would never belong anywhere had, more than the fear of dying or of killing. She felt as if a piece of her own self was tearing away.

Scott cocked his head and his mouth flattened in the way that said he was puzzling out her name for him. God, she even loved how he frowned.

"You won't lose me," he repeated.

"You promise?" Marie wanted to wrap herself in his confidence. It would be so easy to pretend he was right, but she knew the truth now. Her power would save him, and doom them. It was inevitable. Unless she called a halt to their intimacies.

She could. If she told him she wanted to stop, Scott wouldn't push. That would mean they would never be completely together, but she would always be able to kiss him, to touch his skin, to hold him close. Torturous, perhaps, but would that be worse than making love once and then never feeling his skin again?

"I promise. We'll be good together, Marie. I swear."

"Better than good." He would be the best she'd ever imagined -- hero and lover and companion. Her voice choked a little. She almost told him the whole truth.

If she did, he would roll away. He would decide they needed to stop short of sex for her. He'd try to choose what was best for her. Not himself. Never himself.

Remembering his good was her job now. It was part of loving him. She remembered that moment when she struggled up what remained of Alcatraz to save him. That hadn't been about having him. It was just about him being alive and whole and able to still be. Scott mattered whether he was with her or not. Maybe that's what love really was, being able to care about him more than herself.

She felt tears stab the corners of her eyes.

"If you want to stop, we can." He shifted a bit, ready to give her whatever she needed just as she'd known he would. "I just need a minute to--"

"No." She caught her hand around the back of his neck to still him. "Don't stop."

I love you enough to let you go.

--

Ororo checked on Jimmy after Hank left. The boy made a tiny ball in the bed. A nightlight cast shadows over the twisted sheets surrounding him. But, he no longer seemed to be having nightmares. She'd watched so many children go through this same transition when they arrived at the school. First they were frightened, then shy, and then finally they bloomed. The process reminded her that hope revealed itself at the end of dark journeys.

She closed the door quietly then wandered down the hall toward Charles' office. The space still needed to be cleared of his personal items and made ready for the next stage of the school's life. Besides, she wasn't going to sleep much tonight and the area really didn't need an impromptu storm, which she'd likely create if she went flying.

The office would never have been so quiet at dusk when Charles was alive. He seemed the most energized when the school was busy. He'd leave his windows open so he could hear the children playing after classes. She missed Charles so much.

The monitor from his computer was glowing faintly, whitening all the edges of the dark wood. Strange that it should be on now. She was sure she and Hank had turned the system off. But, Charles had so many automated routines on his equipment. Any number of robotic signals could have restarted the unit. Ororo stepped around to turn it off and saw the transmission message written in blue across the screen. Who would be trying to contact Charles now? Everyone close enough to have a link to the private system knew he was dead.

She tapped the response code and Moira's face filled the screen.

"Hello, Ororo," the woman's deep brogue rolled the r-sounds. "I hope you are sitting down."

You should be able to see I'm not. She slid into the desk chair, dreading more surprises. She'd just steadied herself. "What's happened?"

"It's Charles. He's alive and he wants to come home."