Before you launch into this chapter, I feel obligated to refresh your memory. I'm embarrassed it's taken me over a year to write events that have taken six days in story time line!

AMTAE began on the SHIELD space station; New Years Eve; late afternoon in my mind. Logan was blown up. Back on his feet two days later another bomb dropped on him; that is, round one of Wendy's issues. Closely following is round two of Wendy's issues; her DNA results from the testing Sue had done in More Than Yesterday, Less Than Tomorrow. Wendy has major meltdown number one over her DNA revelation. The plot thickens with the DNA issues and it seems everybody's in a tizzy and that's putting it mildly.

Next, Logan and Sue's house is nearly burned to the ground. Logan suspects dirty dealing and declares it's not safe for them to live off campus. Unhappily settled back at the mansion, Wendy has meltdown number two. In addition, all this fun stuff is going on amidst a few personal and professional issues Sue is coping with.

It's now late afternoon/early evening on January sixth. Logan has just returned from a laborious though comparatively relaxing day of repairing the heating system of the boathouse where he and Sue will reside until it's safe to return to their home. Scott Summers has just made a significant discovery relating to Replications. Logan and Scott are now on their way to brief Charles.

CHAPTER TEN

He leans forward, cashmere sweatered arms resting on the immaculately polished tabletop. Fingers pressed together in a pyramid, Charles' expression is poker but the emotions are anything but, "This is a complication I'd not foreseen but I assure you there is no evidence Doctor Jennings is aware."

"Ya gooned it up with Wendy. What makes ya think ya ain't with Marla?"

If looks could kill, Cyke's sourpuss'd do the job. How dare I submit evidence that Charles Almighty ain't quite perfect.

Charles remains a pillar of dignity, the only outward sign I've hit bulls eye is the slight creasing in the corners of his gray blue eyes. "Indeed," he says with an almost audible exhale. It's the closest to a mea culpa he's gonna verbalize and since rubbing his nose in it is ultimately counter productive I let it drop.

"I concur with your assessment that the entire school is a potential target and I'd like to call the rest of the team together for an immediate briefing."

Scott nods his head like an over eager pup, "I'll have every one assemble in the Situation Room; say fifteen minutes?"

Now I'm itchy. What's gotta be done and what Charles'll go for don't jive. Wasting my breath over it is just that; a fuckin' waste of time. But, it looks like I'm roped in.

Everything is hunky-dory 'til the inevitable what do you propose is raised. I don't mince words delivering the solution.

The silence is deafening and potent sentiments bombard my senses from every direction.

"We aren't a hit squad, Logan," Storm's predictable declaration is reinforced by a predictable majority of bobbing heads.

"What part of this don't you all get? Stryker's private militia was kid stuff compared to even a partially resurrected Weapon Plus."

"Y'all need ta listen ta Logan!" Guess Rogue's on my side of the ring and from the expressions on the faces of the juniors, seems I rate a cheer team. Problem is, it's gonna take a lot more than a bunch o' rah-rah's to do the job.

Like a kid in study hall, Kitty raises her hand, "Just what was Weapon Plus?"

"The nastiest bunch of mother fuckers to ever walk the planet."

Kitty's mouth forms an O as she bows her head and picks at her purple nail polish.

Charles, ever the diplomat, explains, "Weapon Plus' original purpose was to train selected Mutants to combat terrorism."

"Bull shit, Charles! We were forged as assassins to exterminate anything that got in bastards like Stykers' way."

He ignores my fiery retort, "The organization was repurposed to include mercenary activities, just as Logan describes."

"We are….. cold-blooded killers," I growl. Some of us programmed to torture and murder our own kind but let's save that lesson for another day.

"We?" Kitty's eyes bug.

I ain't sugar coating it, "We, sweet cheeks." Thrusting a thumb into my chest, "As in me."

Silence falls like a shroud. I sense disbelief, disgust and everything in between. Yep, kiddies. There's a big, bad wolf and I'm it.

Kurt utters, "How do ve know for certain they vill strike?"

"You willing to gamble against it? I sure as hell ain't."

Kurt's only response is to whip his tail in figure eights against the cement floor.

Storm weighs in again, "What about Sabretooth's part in this? He's the last creature I'd ever trust."

"Yeah, I know where you're coming from. All I can swear to is he wasn't lying about meetin' up with Ruchinsky." And if that's all that had gone down we wouldn't be dickin' around right now.

"Ve should seek help against such a potentially large and dangerous adversary."

"Considered and rejected." For now.

"Vhy?"

"Because it's damn near guaranteed Reps is watching for just that kind of thing."

"Perhaps Colonel Fury or SHIELD?"

Charles quietly interjects, "One does not simply contact Nick Fury' it's commonly quite the opposite."

Gotta concur with Charles, "That 'n this operation's small potato's to SHIELD."

Charles' expression is stone cold as he finally tosses in his two-cents worth, "Our options seem limited at the moment. However, whatever plan of action is agreed upon, know that I will not condone or facilitate needless violence or lethal force."

I won't conceal my frustration grinding out, "You think I've got time to waste on needless? We get one shot at this and success depends on crack intel, surgical precision and the balls to do what's necessary." A measure of luck won't hurt, either.

"Logan's right."

Holy shit! The freakin' world's just tilted on its axis.

Cyke continues, "Like Kurt, I know first-hand about Stryker and while I'd like to think it could be avoided we must be ready to use lethal force."

Expression banal, Charles clears his throat, "Logan, your concerns are unerringly valid along with several suggestions you've put forth. We shall activate the highest level security measures, including lock down. We shall endeavor to gather all the intelligence available."

There's flint in those eyes as they briefly settle on Cyke, sweep the table and then back on me, "However let me reinforce that at no time will we, as a Team, embark upon an offensive."

Cyke doesn't say a word but conflict and frustration hang over him like a dark cloud.

" I'm telling ya. . ." Eyeballing Charles and everyone in the room, "All of ya. . . This is gonna come down to us or them. It's quicker to kill than incapacitate and dead men don't mend and come after ya."

It's pin drop city once again.

"No doubt we must agree to disagree on what constitutes an appropriate solution." It's obvious he's surfing minds as Charles makes brief eye contact with three potential allies of mine, "That being the case, I shall not stand in your or anyone else's way in pursuit of that solution."

Right. When the shit hits the fan, I'm on my own. Most don't have the stomach for it and siding with me or not, don't have the cajones to countermand Charles.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, if there are no further questions or comments," Charles toggles his chair into reverse. "Let us adjourn and attend to security measures."

Faces are grim and determined shuffling out. Charles lags, waits 'til the servo doors hiss closed, "Logan, Scott, a private word, please."

Looking dignified and paternalistic, he can't mask the scent of his conflicted feelings, "I fear you are both letting emotion rule judgment."

I don't dignify Charles with a reply. If he don't know by now how I operate he's never gonna.

It's Summers who cuts loose, "You think so, Professor? Maybe you should let your emotions rule once in a while."

In a rare show of anger Charles bites, "Over wrought emotion, violence or lethal force will not bring Jean back."

"I know, goddammit! I know." For a second Summers looks like he'll shatter. "But the chance at avenging the wrong done to her is more than I can pass up."

Charles veil of control falls again, "Ask yourself this question: What would she want us to do?" It almost sounds like a plea.

Cyke grinds between clenched teeth, "Ask yourself, Professor," and stalks out.

Projecting, I knew it would come to this, his shoulders slump. Massaging his forehead, Charles seems worn down.

Ya surprised ol' man? I don't say it but his expression tells me he heard.

"You know, there will always be another evil to fill the void when the first is vanquished. Not immediately but eventually."

"I'll do what I can now and worry 'bout the rest when I hafta."

"This is an endless cycle that I am fast becoming weary of."

I chuckle but there's no humor behind it, "Join the club, bub."

He looks as resolute as his words sound, "Nevertheless, I understand what you must do and I hope you understand that I must stand true to my beliefs as well as tread a narrow political path."

"Politics be damned, Charles!"

"Really? That attitude is beneath you. As despicable as it is, you know our freedom, the existence of this institution, depends on the whims of politics." Masking nothing this time, I hear the ire in word and feel the emotions he projects into my head.

I return fire, "Tell me that when the mansion's a pile of charred bricks and these kids you've sworn to protect are either dead or goose stepping robots at Luc Diebel's pleasure."

"We face that possibility from many sources, including the powers that be in Washington. In my mind, that cements the defensive nature of the X-Men."

"Don't ya mean pacifist?"

"No," Charles blasts, the dome of his bald head ripe as a tomato, "Every one of us would fight to the death to protect this school and each other. After Alkali Lake and the measures we've taken since, I shouldn't have to defend my position to you."

Then why the fuck ya goin' ostrich now? "You said it best a few minutes ago. We gotta agree to disagree."

I feel pressure at my temples as the manipulating, nosy bastard tries to get into my head. There's nothin' more to discuss so I project a dose of mental static for his trouble.

He flinches but recovers in a hurry, "Indeed. May I ask a personal question?"

"Shoot."

"Why was your wife not included in this briefing?"

"She's, uh, upstairs, running clinic. Same as Electra."

I feel him rooting once more; surface thoughts this time but it still pisses me off.

He locks his eyes with mine, "You're making a foolish error excluding her."

Taking a step toward him, I'm about to shove him and his wheel chair through the fuckin' door, "Get outta my head and butt outta my marriage."

He doesn't blink, doesn't move a muscle as I stalk past him. It ain't the scent of fear that circles him as I exit but bitter disappointment and bone deep weariness.

xXx

Didn't expect Charles' curveball adding Susie into the mix. Prob'ly should've. No way I'm keeping her outta the loop. But she's in no shape to take active part in this so why get her all worked up?

Who ya tryin' t'convince, bub?

Doesn't matter. Somethin's gotta be done and it's gonna be messy. Less she knows and the further away, the better.

She's got one kid left in an examining room and I over-hear her talking 'bout female troubles—cramps 'r somethin'. Happy to tune out, I stretch out on the couch in the waiting area and push my thumbs against my forehead. Where my left eye oughtta be is killing me: Pressure, pins and needles and the intermittent spike through the middle of my brain. What do they say? No pain, no gain! Better mean this damn thing's regenerating.

There's a scratching on the door leading out to the terrace. Well, whadaya know? It's mutt. Opening it, I command, "Git in here," and ruff the wooly black fur on his neck. His thick tail wags almost knocking over a stack of magazines on the low table set before the couch. As he flops down on the carpet and huffs, can't help thinking I wouldn't mind his free n' easy existence.

Susie emerges from the exam room, patient in tow. "Hi, hon," she flashes a smile my way.

Rummaging through a cabinet and producing a small cardboard package, she tells the kid, "Start these two days before your period and I think you'll notice a big difference."

"Thanks, Doctor Sue. You're the best."

Soon as the kid bolts out the door the wife crosses her arms across her belly and lasers me with an expression saying, Well, I'm waiting. She doesn't give me a chance to suck breath before starting in, "A little bird told me there was a team briefing."

"Yeah. Seems Marla's outfit is tied with some ol' pals o'mine."

"Right," she drawls flippantly. In another second she's sober, "What's up?"

"Looks like Genesys is a front for Replications."

"Oh my god!" She pales and sinks next to me on the couch. "Marla's still in with them?"

"Dunno. I still don't smell a lie on her and Charles thinks she's clean but we're going on lock down effective now."

"Lock down? Just what the heck is that all about?"

"Well. . . you've studied up on security protocols, haven't ya?"

"Of course but you're hedging. I can see it in your eyes. Drop the other shoe, Logan."

I can't hide a damn thing from this woman! Gotta be our bond. Same weird thing with Mariko.

I suck up a deep breath cuz I know she's gonna just love what's next, "The boathouse ain't safe enough."

"Let me surmise. We're going to be cooped up in your two room suite upstairs."

"That'd be right."

Ready: Her eyes go wide.

Aim: She cocks her head, squints and sucks in her cheeks.

Fire: "Oh no way!"

Looks mad.

Sounds mad.

And hoo-boy! Don't ya love the vinegar stink of a good mad? Susie's her got own particular vintage and I think I'm about to get a bucketful dumped on my head.

"First you force me out of my home and into your basic dormitory . . . ".

Yo princess! My suite's better n' most four-star hotels but I ain't sayin' it 'cuz I wanna keep my anatomy intact.

"And now my practice! I don't think so."

"Babe, I'm sorry. Ain't like there's a choice."

"Says you!"

Says me? "Like I'm makin' this shit up?"

I'm just about to pop a gasket of my own when she counters, "Never mind. I'm sorry. But what is the problem with the boathouse?"

"Oh c'mon. Use your head. It's too far from the mansion and there're no underground escape passages."

"I . . . I can't argue with that."

"Damn straight, darlin'. Come up with somethin' better and I'm all ears."

"Lose the attitude, bub,"

I sneer and she turns up the snark, "Trust me. It's about to become a high priority. How long is this so called lockdown going to go on?"

"Long as it takes."

She tosses her hands in the air, "Arrggh! How the heck to you expect me to run my practice?"

Can't meet her eyes cuz I ain't got the answer. At least not the one she wants to hear.

"How are we going to get things ready for the twins?"

"Oh hell, darlin'! This'll be over and done with by April."

"It better be! What about Matthew? He has school."

"No reason he can't get his schooling right here."

Out come the fangs for another chomp on my jugular, "Let me set you straight on a couple things" She stands and paces, counting off on her fingers, "First, I can't just quit, walk away from my practice. Not…not… without some sort of orderly transition. And let's face it Charles isn't going to make up the loss of income."

"Screw the money," I grumble while she bitches up a storm.

"And as far as Matt goes, what about his status at Saint Ignatius? Honors classes, Lacrosse team, his friends. I can't just up and transfer him. Xavier's is a great school but…"

"But what?" I've had enough of her shit and sound like it.

"Oh…mmm…look at it this way; Matthew fits here about as well as a kid like Ty or Kevin fits at Saint Ignatius."

"That's a bunch o'bull!" Now I'm on my feet and in her face, "Listen to yourself, Susan! You're putting status and jobs before your and Matt's safety--your lives."

"No. I'm not but, …. " Her voice breaks as the waterworks turn on. "Can't a woman vent? Doesn't it seem like everything is falling apart?"

Thinking, welcome to my world, I pull her close; let her use my shirt as a snot rag. This is getting to be a habit.

"I'm at my limit," she sniffs." I want normal. I want to go home. Set up the nursery."

I'm in total agreement but she's not listening so I hold her and ride out the roller coaster.

"So. . .," she shudders wiping tears away with the back of her hand. "It's a lockdown . . and what else?"

"You just let me worry 'bout that." My hands softly resting on her shoulders are meant as reassurance.

"I can't do that," she say reaching across her body to touch my hand. "Please, tell me what you're going to do."

"Same as before. Gonna find 'em. Gonna finish it."

"Still no plan?"

Gently, I cup her chin and wipe a lingering tear with my thumb, "When the shit hits the fan I want you to be able to say you haven't got a clue."

"What? Why?"

"Just trust me, darlin'."

Vivid fear glistens in her eyes, "I hate it when you say that 'cuz I know you've got something dangerous in mind."

"Nothing I can't handle." I peck a kiss on the tip of her nose to seal it, "And that's a promise."

"You better promise 'cuz we kinda need ya, Bright Eyes." Bumping me with her belly, she says it with a chuckle but I know there's no humor behind it.

Pressing my hand against her womb, I feel the twins kick. I ain't the type to go all misty and mush but, Christ! I love her more than anything and I wanna be around for her. For them.

I know what I'm up against; how easy it is for it all to go to shit. For a single nano-second I have second thoughts. Maybe I oughtta just gather up my family and get the fuck away. Trouble is trouble'll find me again.

She breaks my funk with, "What about Matt? You know Allen's going to pitch a fit." There's a touch of her usual spunk in the statement.

"I'll torch that bridge when we get there."

"Can I hold the blow torch?" The tears are real and the grin's forced but her scent tells me she's in the fight and on my side.

xXx

We're in underground main security resetting and testing system parameters, when Kitty Pryde chirps, "Hey, somebody's using an unauthorized cell phone."

I'm a step ahead of Scott getting to Kitty's computer screen. "Goddammit! Whose number?" I growl all set to rip the offending teenager a new one for breaking procedure.

Kitty, our resident budding computer genius, clicks a few keys. "Not ours."

"Doctor Jennings or Wendy?" Scott's suggests, about to get lockjaw with irritation.

"Better not be unless some moron didn't log 'em before the welcome mat got rolled out."

"No point hitting the panic button yet." Scott seems too smug for my liking, "This system's pretty sensitive. It could be a skip signal from anybody anywhere."

"Kid, find out whose number it is? And can you pinpoint where it's coming from?"

Takes her all of ninety seconds and she says, "Registered as unlisted."

Figures. I crack my neck to ease frustration.

She adds, "I'm triangulating the location."

We're both hanging over her shoulder, watching her fingers fly over the keyboard as a grid forms up on the computer screen.

Her fingers freeze, "Oh no!"

Oh no? More like oh fuck. The call's disconnected before she gets a fix on it.

"It's coming from somewhere in Westchester County," she offers sheepishly just as the alert tone for perimeter security sounds. A long tone followed by six chirps says something's trying to breach sector six.

Or the friggin' thing's on the fritz—again.

Ten minutes later, I'm parking my truck near the supposed security breach. Not a damn thing obvious. Of course, the cover of night doesn't help. Rolling down the window, I cut the engine and let my senses roam.

Right. No god-awful, ear fraggin' repeller beam whine

Six is hosed.

Flash light in hand, time for a walkabout; see if I can fix it from here. It's cold but the wind's calm. Stars peek through high thin clouds promising yet another snowfall.

What's up with this? A set of tracks. Canine. Kneeling, I inhale the scent.

Well hell! Canine for sure. Domestic. To be specific a very large Newfoundland breed whose name is going to be mud if I don't turn him into the pound first. I let out a whistle, "C'mon boy."

The trail leads to the sectors power boosting station. Whoa! Whasis? The tracks change. Human. Small; almost kid-sized.

What the fuck! Somebody steal my dog?

The scents are fresh, no more than an hour old though I don't recognize the human scent. It's mutant, for sure. Male and adult.

A control panel mounted on a steal post is wide open. This ain't a good sign. Missing dog aside and it's evens whether Bear might've gave chase but somebody I don't know jimmied with security and waltzed on and off campus undetected.

I'm gonna make an educated guess and say that untraceable cell phone might be connected.

"Cyke," I call into my X-men comm unit.

"Copy," crackles in my earpiece.

"Any luck on the trace?"

"Affirmative. Just after you left Kit recaptured the signal."

"Almost got it," Kitty's voice pipes through.

"Definitely had a bogey. Shut down this sector," I report. "Anything on the other sectors?"

"Hey guys," Kitty transmits. "That call is still happening and it's within less than a mile of campus."

I just shake my head. Less 'n a mile which way? "Kid, I need better 'n that."

"For crap sake, Logan! I'm doing the best I can," is ear drum popping static in my ear. Thanks, short stuff.

"Negative on the other sectors," Cyke replies. "But we're checking manually anyway. You need back up?"

"Negative. Got some tracks worth checkin'."

"Logan, procedure says you're supposed to go in pairs."

Screw waiting on a babysitter, "You're breaking up Cyke. Over and out."

I catch, 'Dammit Logan, you know…..' as I switch off. Ya da, ya da, ya da. Deal with it, Cyke.

xXx

"Eek!" The vibration against my hip from my lab jacket pocket makes me jump. It doesn't usually affect me like this but I'm deeply engrossed in a snit. Juvenile, I know but I'm purposely envisioning ways to make my husband's life oh-so- special while we're cooped up here.

Dredging up my professional voice I answer, "Doctor Harris."

"Ah! My favorite pediatrician."

I snicker knowing I'm being buttered, "What do you need, Lance?"

"Your expertise. . . stat."

"Stafford's on call tonight."

"Stafford's here but I've got a fourteen year old manifest X positive. No prenatal care, no support and the whole sh'bang is heading south."

"You need me for the mom or the baby?"

"Yes."

"Please, please tell me Leslie's not on call."

"Don't make me lie."

"Fudge! Ok," I sigh. "Plug your finger in the dam. It's going to take me about half an hour to get there. Text me mom and baby's stats."

"You're the best. I owe ya."

I buzz Logan's office and there's no answer. Scott's is the same. Hate to pester the head honcho but. . .

"Yes, Susan."

"Any idea where my husband is?"

"Checking a security breech. May I be of assistance?"

"I've got to go to the hospital. Assuming you don't want me driving out the front gate, what's the plan with this lockdown?"

I can almost feel Charles' exasperated sigh. I guess there isn't a plan. Well. . . better figure one out quick or I will.

His reply, "Indeed," is typical when he doesn't quite have the answer. "I don't believe you're familiar with the underground escape tunnels."

"I know they're there but haven't taken the grand tour."

"Meet me in the garage. The tunnels are low and narrow so you'll need to use one of my cars."

Ten minutes later after checking on Matt and that dog who's AWOL, I'm tooling; inching actually, through a dimly lit but pristine claustrophobia inducing tunnel in Charles' nineteen-fifty-four cherry red Corvair. How fun is this? I didn't manage to get in touch with Logan but I really didn't try too hard. Best he throw his shit-fit over my going when I return.

xXx

Something's screwy. In a matter of half dozen footprints the tracks and the scent are Bear's again. No overlap or paralleling. First it's dog; then human then dog.

Ah fuck! If that dog's. .. .

A stray shows up. . . just as the kid and her mom take refuge. .

Shapeshifters can't transform into things much larger or smaller than their natural form. So yeah, hundred a fifty pound Newfoundland. . .

Jesus H.Christ! It adds up.

The tracks go on for quite a way leading me through rolling terrain. Tall pines and thick underbrush provide ample cover. The air is heavy with the scent of big water; Titicus Reservior. Xavier's estate butts against the north side of the watershed. It's a beautiful tract of land with lots of places to lose yourself. I know. I've hidden out here myself when civilization snaps the leash too tight.

Clouds roll in dimming the moonlight. Makes it kinda tough keeping visual on the tracks, even for me but I can't risk the flashlight. Lucky, the scent's stronger. Cresting a low ridge, I hit pay dirt. Snippets of a man's voice, accented British, rides the breeze.

Crouching, I go still and scan. There he is, blabbing on a cell phone.

Animal stealth gets me spitting distance close. My blood runs hot and cold; a mix of rage and dread, hearing him reveal intimate details only an insider knows.

I'm being. . ..Make that everybody I care about is being reamed! And I fuckin' never saw it comin'.

He's wearing what looks like a skin tight body suit. Slick and grey; kinda like a Olympic speed skater's get-up. Guess Mystique blue ain't the only color his kind comes in.

He's short; no taller than Susie but he's lean muscled. Yeah, 'bout one-fifty. . ..

And. . . .

Godfuckingdammit!

This cinches it. . . .

Bear's bandana is knotted around his neck.

xXx

Disclaimer: The usual.

A/N: Took forever to get this posted. I am sorry. If it weren't for my best beta giving max encouragement, this chap might still be on the jump drive. I make no promises how long 'til the next chapter. One daughter gets married in October and another next May. That's where my mind has been and will continue to be.