Sick Bay

"What's wrong with him?" Marie cried in distress.

"Exactly what I feared," Andrea answered, brusque in her concern as she rapidly examined him. Heartbeat, pulse, blood pressure, all were far higher than they should have been. He was actually hot to the touch, at least 110 degrees. "He's run out of time. The physical decay caused by his mental ability has outstripped his resources. He's dying - and there is nothing, absolutely nothing, I can do for him. He has ten minutes at the absolute maximum, probably more like five or six."

"Worth it," he rasped, "just for the...look on Marie's...face. So happy. You're such a pretty thing," he gasped painfully.

"The time you needed," Xavier breathed, "you...sacrificed it. For Marie."

An older-looking Ian confirmed it. "As I said...worth it."

"No!" Marie pleaded. "You can't just let him die!" Her Southern accent had grown stronger, as it always did when she was stressed. "Professor, you're smart, there's gotta be a way!"

But Xavier sighed sadly. "Marie, it is precisely because I am ‛smart', as you put it, that I know there is nothing which can be done. His life has always been a gamble, that he might find an answer using his enhanced mental ability before that same ability outstripped his body. Unfortunately his gamble has failed. There is, I fear, nothing we can do for him now."

"It's okay, Marie," Ian managed weakly. "I used it to help you."

"But that's why you're fallin' apart now!" Marie cried, in tears. "You used it to help me, an' that cost you the time you needed to find your own answer! So I gotta help you! That's only right!"

In a desperate flash of intuition she realised the answer. The thought of using her powers - especially in a way she never had before - scared her down to the bone. But she felt an obligation to this good, kind man, who was dyin' because he'd helped her. He'd known beforehand what it'd cost, and he'd figured it was worth it.

She had to help him. She had to.

Marie turned to the sombre Wolverine, who'd just come in. "Logan, do you trust me?"

Logan didn't hesitate to answer. From the moment they'd met at Laughlin City - the moment he'd realised that the quivering bundle in the back of his truck was in fact a girl - he'd trusted her. So he instantly answered, "Always, kid."

"Okay. Then let me try somethin'." She stripped off the hand coverings, using her nails - and gripped his hand. He gasped in pain as her powers went to work and started to drain his. Then, with her other hand, she touched Ian's cheek.

All three shuddered. She held on tight and concentrated fiercely. This had to work!

Xavier, Andrea and others could only gape as, somehow, her entire body began to glow. It'd never done that before.

She and Logan collapsed. Andrea cried out and hurried to examine them. But to her surprise, Marie and Logan were, she found, already recovering. "What - what was that?" she asked, baffled.

Marie, her head down as if in shame, only murmured, "I...I had to help him...I couldn't just let him die..."

"But...Marie," Andrea went on firmly, placing both hands on the girl's shoulders (that was safe, as she was wearing a long-sleeved blouse), "your compassion is all very well and, I might add, most commendable, but...what did you do?"

The answer was entirely unexpected, and didn't come from Marie.

"She used herself as a psychic conduit. Fascinating."

To Andrea's utter astonishment, Ian sat up smoothly. One moment he'd been pale, gaunt, dying. Now...he looked the picture of health. He grinned at her state of discombobulation. "Not a permanent answer, but a very good stopgap. She's bought me the time I'll need." He smiled warmly at Marie. "Merci très beaucoup, ma chère. You did great."

"Which doesn't answer my question," Andrea returned sternly, performing a brief medical exam on him. As far as she could tell, all the physical damage wrought by his mental exertion was, incredibly, gone. Amazingly, he even looked ten years younger. "What did she do?"

It was Xavier who worked it out. "She absorbed Logan's healing power...and passed it on to Ian," he breathed. "Remarkable. It would appear her ability is bidirectional - she can give, as well as take."

"It was a gamble," Ian admitted, but grinned again. "Wasn't it, Marie?"

"I had to do somethin'," she insisted, but she was trying to smile.

"A gamble which paid off handsomely," he approved. "It's bought me about thirty days, but now I can see at least three solutions to my problem - I'll only need one day to review them and select the optimum one, and about eleven to implement it. The problem, basically, is that my brain is too resource-hungry for my body to cope with. Even your brains take about a quarter of your physical resources - for me, it's more like two thirds. So the answer, I now realise, is to increase my body's resources while slowing my brain down slightly. A compromise."

"Will that redress the balance?" a fascinated Andrea asked.

Ian nodded, and grinned a third time. "But it'll mean eating a lot more, and more often. I suspect munchies at 3 a.m. will become the order of the day, as well as fusel alcohols such as ethane-1,2-diol and isopentanol. Don't leave any snacks lying about, I'll have 'em!"

A relieved, happy Marie hugged him, careful as always to avoid skin contact. But to her astonishment he stroked her hand fondly. To her further astonishment, he didn't start shaking. "For you, a more permanent solution will involve mental discipline. I know you a lot better now from our psychic contact. I'm pretty sure you can learn how to turn your power on and off - which in part is why you came to the Institute. I can and will teach you, Marie." He smiled gently. "I owe you that for your help."

"I owed you," she whispered. "'s only right." She thought of something and gazed curiously at him. "Hey...you touched my hand, stroked it, even, an' nothin' happened. How come?"

"Your power works through the nervous system, on a certain...frequency, you might say. Knowing that frequency as I now do, I can tune my nervous system to repel it. In theory we could get naked and make love, and I wouldn't be affected." He chuckled fondly at her blush. "I wouldn't ask you to, Marie. You're a Southern lady through and through. But in time you'll be able to make love with anyone you like. I know you've always thought you'd die a virgin...and that that scared you. I'll help you avoid that."

"Can anyone do that? Repel me?"

"If they have control of usually autonomous reflexes, as I do, and if they know the right frequency...which only I do," he assured her. "I promise I won't tell anyone, on the off chance."

"Thank you kindly," Marie acknowledged gratefully. "So if it's all the same to everyone, I'd better reapply this stuff to my hands - I kinda tore it off to help you. 'scuse me..." She sprayed each hand in turn, then grasped both of Ian's as a test. At first nothing happened, and then he gave a small gasp. Marie too gasped and pulled her hands back.

Ian grinned. "Gotcha."

Marie realised he'd played a practical joke on her, and swatted him. "Oh, you! Don't do that, I thought I'd hurt you!"

"Sorry," he said, still smiling.

She saw the joke and smiled back. "Y'all better remember this. You can touch me now. I like bein' touched, I really do. Which reminds me, Professor: somethin' I've wanted to do since y'all took me in..." Marie hugged him and stroked his cheek. "Thank you. You gave me a place to stay when I didn't have nothin'. You are a gentleman of the old school, sir." She swatted Ian again. "Not like this one, he's got mischief runnin' all through 'im!"

There was fond laughter. Even Logan cracked a smile.

Classified Military Facility

At the same time

As she was preparing to leave - and worry - Ellie ran into Trask. "Oh, hello, sir, I was just -"

"Stay a moment," he requested mildly, though she knew too well that requests from Bolivar Trask were better taken to mean orders. She put down her handbag, praying Trask wouldn't search it.

"In my time here I haven't got to know my staff, which is regrettable," Trask opined. "In particular I'd like to know their attitudes...particularly towards our research and its intentions." He looked keenly at her. "What do you think of our work? Don't be shy. Be honest. I find that quality too lacking in our, ah, military colleagues."

This was it, she knew. This was when he would discover that her commitment to the program wasn't 100%. But she knew she was a terrible liar...because she hated lying. Resigned to her fate, she decided to do as he'd asked/ordered.

"To be frank, Doctor, I, uh...question the need for it. With a few rare exceptions mutants are living in peace among us. They're not hell-bent on our subjugation or destruction. In fact..." she sighed. "I believe our work will provoke them into a defensive response and create the very antagonism we're trying to avoid."

"I see," he said matter-of-factly. "It might surprise you to learn that this is not, yet, an all-out war for survival. Mutants are too few in number, and lack coordinated leadership as yet. But...that may change. We have received reports of pregnant mutants...pregnant by other mutants. It is optimistic in the extreme to believe their children will be only human. Further, they do not have a charismatic leader yet, but one may well emerge - and probably will.

"I believe, however, that our immediate problem is...closer to home. It would be logical for mutants to place at least one watcher in our midst - I hesitate to use the word ‛spy'; it is too imprecise and inflammatory. In other words, Dr. Nesbit...whatever the Tracker might say, are you yourself a mutant?"

"No," she whispered, knowing with dread what his next question would be.

She had to lie.

For Sarah's sake, she had to lie. She loved her little sister dearly. It wasn't her fault she was a mutant, one who could create and direct fire.

But...Ellie hated lying. Worse, she was sure Trask would penetrate such a lie. Would lying be worse?

Or would the truth?

Tell the truth and shame the devil...

"Mmm. Do you know any mutants?"

Ellie wanted to wet herself. She wondered if she had time to retrieve the .38 Police Special from her handbag, to shoot Trask...or herself.

What good would either choice be, though?

With an air similar to that of the Six Hundred as they rode into the valley of death, she answered brokenly, "My...my sister. She's a mutant. Doctor, please don't hurt her, I'm begging you."

Trask looked almost amused. "My dear doctor, I have no such intention. I do not intend to kill mutants, merely to eliminate them. The one does not necessitate the other. If they are peaceable, I see no reason why they should not rejoin society, as productive - human - members thereof. Those who are hostile, and will resist..." he shrugged, "well, that is why the Sentinels are armed. Mutants are not necessarily an enemy...unless they insist on becoming so."

"Then," she murmured, not daring to hope, "you're not going to..."

"...kill them? Oh, no. A wasteful and unproductive effort," he dismissed her fears.

It was a lie, of course. This was a war. Earth itself was at stake. Either homo sapiens would survive, or homo mutantis would. There was no possibility of the two coexisting and sharing the world. There seemed little evidence that mutants were interested in such.

Of course, he couldn't have been more wrong...and he failed to see that for homo sapiens, sharing the world had never been its defining attribute.

Dr. Nesbit, however, didn't need to know the full details of the coming conflict. She might be a mutant sympathiser, but her work had never been less than exemplary...even if her motives were in question. He nodded and left. Shortly after, so did she.

She had an extremely important phone call to make.

Xavier's School for Gifted Children

That evening

Sarah was proving her prowess on the air hockey table when Bobby came in and said, "Hey, Sarah - call for you."

Her puck slammed home, to an accompanying groan from Kitty, and Sarah grinned. "Gotcha! Thanks, Bobby, I'll take it in my room."

She was about to leave when Bobby touched her shoulder and said in a low voice, "She sounded scared, Sarah. Talk to the Professor.*

"Okay, thanks," Sarah answered. Once in her room she picked up the phone and said, "Hello?"

"Sarah? Oh, thank God. Honey, you're in danger - you and all the other mutants. You should get out now!"

Puzzled, Sarah recognised the caller as her big sister Ellie, but she hadn't heard from her since -

Since she went to work for that Trask creep. Holy shit!

"Ellie, what's wrong?"

"It's Trask, he found out about you! Oh, Sarah, I'm so sorry, but I couldn't lie even for you, I couldn't! He's perfected the tracker, all he needs now is funding for the Sentinels! He said mutants wouldn't be hurt if they were peaceable, but...oh, God, Sarah, I - I don't believe him! He's after all of you! I bet he knows where you are! GET OUT! GET OUT NOW!"

Trying to placate her terrified sister, Sarah soothed, "Ellie, we have people working the problem. Besides, you should see this place's defences, an army couldn't get in here."

"Sarah, he's got an army - those damn Sentinels! Please, PLEASE get out of there! Go somewhere safe!'"

Firmly Sarah said, "Ellie, listen to me. Professor X is on the case. He has a lot of talented help, mutant and human alike. Trust me, he will deal with it. Soon as I hang up I'll talk to him. But I am safe, okay? You don't need to worry. And Trask can't touch you - you're purely human. If you're that worried, come and work for the Professor instead," she encouraged. "We'll see more of each other."

For a long moment Ellie didn't reply. Then she whispered, "You wouldn't lie to your big sister, would you?"

"No, Ellie," Sarah answered gently. "I love you. I would never do that."

"I love you too, Sarah. Take care."

"You too, sis. Bye." She hung up, and headed for Xavier's study.

Uptown Manhattan

Ellie Nesbit's apartment

But before Ellie could put the phone away, it rang again. "Hello?"

"Very touching, Dr. Nesbit - if predictable. I knew exactly what you would do."

This time she did wet herself as she recognised the voice: Bolivar Trask.

"Y - you were listening? How?"

"You really should have read the terms and conditions of your contract, Doctor. Your phone was provided by Trask Industries. As such it has a direct wireless connection to my central server."

"You - you shouldn't listen in on people's private conversations!" she protested, taking refuge in her indignation. "That's unconstitutional! Only the FBI can do that, and then only with a warrant -"

"- which Trask Industries does possess. The contract subjects all employees, including myself, to routine surveillance, as per our very broad remit. We are ultimately concerned with the survival of our species. Presumably our opponents are aware of our imminent arrival, thanks to your warning. So be it. My Sentinels will give them the opportunity to surrender. It is entirely up to them to accept the terms...or not.

"As for you...well, on the face of it you are simply a disgruntled employee. However, you do have our phone, which is proprietary property of Trask Industries. I am afraid I must regard you as being in breach of your contract, which is grounds for immediate termination of employment. You need not come into work tomorrow...or ever again. A secure courier will arrive within the hour to retrieve the phone. It goes without saying that you had better be there. You will be paid what you are owed in due course.

"My regrets, Dr. Nesbit. Your work has been extremely competent. I shall miss that. Good evening."

With that, he hung up. Less than an hour later an armed courier arrived with a Notice Of Dismissal to sign, which she numbly did, knowing she wouldn't be paid otherwise. He took the phone, but luckily she had a habit of keeping her work and private lives separate, and thus it had no personal contacts or other data on it.

Dismissed. For doing the decent thing and warning her sister.

She cried for an hour. Then she called Sarah again, and received what would prove to be a very pleasant surprise.

"Ah, Dr. Nesbit," a voice remarked thoughtfully. "I had expected your call, following my conversation with Sarah. I would surmise that Trask Industries has terminated your employment. Both a bad thing and a good - it leaves you financially destitute, but open to the new opportunities I offer you." Numbly she recognised the voice as that of Charles Xavier; she'd met him when Sarah's secret was revealed.

32 Westfield Drive, New York

Last month

Ellie answered the doorbell, to find a man in a wheelchair there. She found herself instinctively trusting him. "Can I help you?"

"It is more a case of me helping you, Doctor - or more accurately, your younger sister Sarah. May I speak with her?"

Ellie frowned. "About what?" How does he know I'm a doctor? I'm not wearing my lab coat.

"Attending my school for Gifted Children," he answered. "I believe It would be of great benefit to her."

Sarah arrived, smiled and quipped, "If you're a Jehovah's Witness, try the next block down. We're all atheists."

The man chuckled. "Nothing like that, I assure you. I run a school for Gifted Children, such as yourself."

"I do pretty well at school, but I'm hardly gifted," Sarah frowned.

"It is not academia of which I speak," he told her softly. "Your powers lie in, shall we say, other areas."

The older woman frowned again...then was beset by worry, as Sarah had gone pale. "Sarah?"

"Oh my God," Sarah whispered, aghast. "You...you know, don't you?"

"I too possess certain powers beyond the ken of most," he replied.

Now Ellie was worried. "Sarah, what's he talking about?"

In a low voice Sarah murmured, "The barbecue last year. The steak got burnt to a crisp, do you remember?"

"Yes, but that was just Michael applying too much lighter fuel," Ellie recalled.

But Sarah shook her head. "No. It...it was me. I did that."

"What?!"

"It was an accident," Sarah pleaded. "I just wished the steak was more well-done, Michael isn't as good a cook as he thinks he is...then I felt a rush of heat, like a period, and suddenly the fire was burning a lot hotter. It looked like a routine mishap, yeah, but...I did that. I wished for the flame to be bigger and hotter...and then it was.

"I...I didn't tell you because I wasn't sure at first, it was so strange. But later I tried to light a match without striking it. I stared at it for half an hour, but nothing happened. Then I remembered that rushing sensation, that feeling of heat...and it happened again. In fact the match didn't just light, it flared. Nearly burned my fingers," she recalled ruefully. "I was sure then. I tried practising with it. But I stopped, because...well, you remember that fire in the Bronx River Forest?"

"Yeah...?"

In a very small voice, Sarah admitted, "Well, that was me, too."

Her sister was shocked to her core. "Sarah...!"

"No-one was hurt," Sarah insisted. "It was just a small fire, and the rain put it out anyway. I just thought I'd light a small campfire for practice, but it...got out of hand. I didn't know what to do. I ran. Please don't be mad at me." Her head hung down.

Ellie's sisterly reflex kicked in then, and she hugged Sarah. "Sarah, sweetheart, I could never be mad at you. Even if you have a secret and don't share it with your big sister," she chided.

In tears, Sarah sobbed, "I couldn't tell you! I couldn't tell anyone! I...I was so scared...I'm sorry..."

Xavier intervened gently. "It is precisely because of such mishaps that my school exists. Mutants such as yourself, Sarah, can learn to control and/or suppress their powers - learn, effectively, how not to use them. I am Professor Charles Xavier. I can help you, if you wish."

"I don't want to turn it off," Sarah confided, drying her tears, "it might be useful at times. But I absolutely don't want to hurt anyone, either."

"That, too, I can and will teach you. I assure you that you will not be the first, nor the last. For example, I recently acquired the services of a medical doctor who possesses the gift of telekinesis - moving objects with the power of her mind. One of my oldest students can command the weather to do her bidding." And I happen to be a powerful telepath, he sent to both of them.

"My God," Ellie breathed incredulously. "You...I heard you. In my head."

"I got that, too," Sarah piped up. "So...there are other people like me?"

"Oh, yes," he nodded. "It is one place where you will feel at home; you can exercise your gift and not be concerned as to the possible consequences. You are already well aware of the possible danger should your power grow unfettered."

Ever practical, Ellie noted, "A special school...it'll cost," she warned.

Xavier shook his head. "The most valuable role for my school is as a sanctuary. As I am independently wealthy, I do not charge school fees. Sarah's attendance shall be entirely her own choice."

Sarah decided, "I...I want to go. Ellie, you'll help me with our folks, right?"

Ellie frowned again. "Well..."

"It wouldn't be lying to them," Sarah insisted, knowing of her sister's aversion to lying, "we just...won't tell them everything."

"Lying by omission," Ellie began, "is still -"

"Would you rather I hurt someone?!" Sarah cried. "Killed them, even?! C'mon, sis, it's the lesser of two evils! Please?"

Still torn between her own ethics and her sister's need, she turned to Xavier. "Could you...could you make me do it? I...I've heard of mutants with strange mental powers. Could you...?"

"With ease," he nodded. "However, I will not. I have very strict rules. I employ my power of mental coercion only when absolutely necessary. It is not, in this case. The choice is entirely yours."

That decided it for Ellie. Yes, it would be lying to their parents a little, but if it was true - and Sarah hadn't lied to her since she was three - then, yes, she should learn how to control it. That was much safer for everyone. A small lie by omission was a small price to pay.

"Okay, then," she decided. "Professor, if you have a prospectus or something, that'll help." He did, and proferred it. Their parents proved to be cautiously enthusiastic, beaming when they discovered there would be no fees - and overjoyed when they saw how happy Sarah was.

She started the following week, and made great strides in a short time. She learned not only how to start fires at her command, but how to stop them as well.

As for Ellie, she received a call from Trask Industries, and went to work for them...

...until now.

"So you...know about Trask's research? Tracking and neutralising mutants?"

"We might disagree upon the precise definition of ‛neutralising', but yes, I am so aware. However, I will not ask you to betray any of his secrets, as many are proprietary. He is working the so-called ‛mutant problem' one way, I another. But our goals are incompatible, as he seeks to destroy our kind, whereas I intend to preserve it. Whatever he has told you, his intentions towards us are not benign.

"I believe, as he does not, that mutants and humans can work together in peace, to the benefit of both. It is not a question of either exterminating the other - at least, I hope it will never come to that. As a case in point, my counsellor has a purely human secretary. Some of my students are human. Thus you yourself would not be out of place.

"In addition...you are currently unemployed, so if I may adopt a pragmatic air, what have you to lose?"

She almost asked ‛Do I have a choice?' but refrained. That was an obvious one. Of course she had a choice. She could stay unemployed - and put her sister at risk, too - or she could work for Xavier...against Trask.

She recalled all she knew of him...and decided that of the two, Xavier was far more trustworthy. Sarah had often spoken of his kindness, and how smart he was.

Plus she'd already suspected Trask meant to do more than just emasculate mutants...such as Sarah. No. She had to protect her little sister.

Roll the dice and to hell with tomorrow, she resolved.

"Well, I could do worse," she shrugged. "Okay. I can start immediately."

"Splendid. A car will arrive within the hour to bring you here."

Ellie was somewhat discombobulated - she'd said ‛immediately', yes, but she didn't mean ‛right this instant'!

But she was delighted when her first paycheck arrived; it detailed the hours worked...starting from the moment she'd accepted his offer. Sarah, too, squealed in delight on finding out, knowing she would see much more of Ellie.

And as Ellie got to know various mutants, some of whom could in theory be dangerous if unchecked, she wondered, What was I afraid of?

What is Trask afraid of?

The Danger Room

The next day

"Good morning, class," Ian greeted the assembled students brightly. "As Logan is, ah, indisposed, I'll be teaching you self-defence, as the Professor requested." He grinned on seeing their doubtful expressions. "I know exactly what you're thinking: ‛this guy's abilities are purely mental, what's he doing teaching us self-defence?'. Most of you have physical powers, and you believe that only a physical defence would be adequate. Fair enough, on the face of it.

"Except," his smile was evil, "that's only half the story. To apply physical powers, you need to think about exactly what you're doing and how you're doing it...and as you already know, there is no-one on this planet, not even Professor Xavier, who can think as well or as fast as I can. Now you're thinking: ‛well, what good's that gonna do against us?'. Time you found out. Lights," he instructed.

The Danger Room went dark. None of them could see a thing.

"It begins," Ian's voice coolly declared...behind them.

About three minutes of invisible mayhem ensued.

"Lights," Ian ordered again. The Danger Room was illuminated.

To one side of Ian, there was an untidy pile of students. Every one had bruises. Some had aching limbs. All had headaches. Ian wasn't even sweating. He munched idly on a power bar and took a drink of his fortified, heavily sweetened fruit juice...fortified with three different alcohols, for the glucose and energy he could turn them into. To anyone else except Logan (who would still find it hard to drink, even with his capacity), it would be deadly. To him it was nutritious and refreshing. He'd had fun concocting it.

But like Logan, he found it difficult if not impossible to get drunk. In Logan's case his self-healing prevented it; with Ian, his metabolism just burned up alcohol for fuel. So both could drink copious quantities of the hardest drinks known and be virtually unaffected.

As both men maintained, though, it was certainly fun to try!

Hisako groaned, "The moment the lights went out I armoured up. How did you do that?"

"That's for all of you to figure out," he told them pleasantly. "You saw a fellow mutant, unarmed, with no physical abilities such as armour, energy projection or heat powers, and you underestimated him. One fatal mistake. Another was that you thought that someone armed only with intellect would be helpless and ineffective against you. Wrong again, as you see. Strategy, tactics and thinking ahead - in all these areas I excel.

"Against Logan, Cyclops, Andrea or Storm you might have been better able to defend yourselves. Against such an unusual opponent as me, you had no real idea of what to do, and that was where you went wrong. For the rest of our time, your assignment is to think about what happened, why, and how you might prevent it in future. Me, I'm hungry...as usual. Back in five."

As he was making his way out, Hisako muttered sourly in Japanese, "I think I preferred Wolverine."

She was surprised that he'd heard her, and astonished to hear him reply in the same language, "And what makes you think you'd have been any better off?" He grinned and jauntily headed out.

Sarah Nesbit (Firestorm) murmured, "Not even Wolverine is that fast. I caught the barest glimpse of him...and he was just a blur. I think he let us off lightly."

Hisako winced as the door closed. "How did he do that?"

"More to the point," a boy near the bottom of the pile complained, "what the hell did he do?!"

Xavier met him outside the Danger Room and smiled. "Other than baffled and bruised, how are they?" Obligingly he handed Ian a snack, having anticipated the need.

"Thanks, Charles." He munched on one of the large, thick triple-layer sandwiches. "Mmm. First class. I believe ‛baffled and bruised' sums them up nicely. Once they figure it out, they won't underestimate me again." His grin again turned evil. "Next time I think I'll have to get crafty."

Xavier smiled again. "And there is no-one better than you at that."

"Hey," Ian wondered, "what did happen to Logan? Why isn't he teaching the c!ass? How come he's, as you put it, 'indisposed'?"

"Ah. For that answer, you should consult Dr. McEwan. Occasionally his healing ability hiccups, so to speak. He is currently dealing with a slightly strained knee." The older man looked amused. "I leave it to your unprecedented powers of deduction as to how that occurred."

Ian was nothing if not naturally shrewd; he performed the deduction...and laughed. "Ouch!"

"Quite," Xavier smiled.

Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters

Ethics Class, that evening

Alison greeted the class warmly. "Seems unusual for a counsellor to be teaching Ethics, doesn't it? But Professor Xavier wants me to make use of more talents than just my telepathy, empathy or professional skills. Plus," her smile too was warm, "I love teaching; it was my favourite part of my PhD, as Charles knows full well.

"I'm glad you're here, Kitty, since your power perfectly reflects my point. Let's take a couple of examples: you walking into a bank vault and taking anything you like, or you paying the President of the United States a visit, possibly to do him harm."

"But I never would," Kitty protested.

"I know," Alison smiled, "but this is just a theoretical example, okay?"

"Okay," Kitty conceded.

"You can make yourself insubstantial at will, so bullets and the like can't possibly hurt you and no-one can even touch you. So, as I believe the late Senator Robert Kelly once argued, what's to stop you? You could be the perfect burglar...or assassin. So why don't you do it?"

"That's easy," Kitty answered quietly, "it would be wrong. I want to be a politician some day, but not by hurting the duly elected President. Just 'cause I - or we - can do somethin' doesn't mean I - or we - should."

"Exactly right," Alison praised her. "This is a point which never occurred to Kelly, and he wasn't the only one: that your parents might have had very firm ideas about right and wrong, and passed them on to their child. A cop is usually armed, and she could solve several problems just by shooting. But does she?

"No. She has the power to kill, but her training says to look for every possible alternative first. Her gun is always a last resort." She turned to the students. "So it is with you guys. There are lots of things you can do, but you need to ask yourselves first if you should. If you can't just talk instead, or use some non-violent, non-power-based option. Ordinary humans fear you for what you can do. It seldom occurs to them, except in a few cases, to wonder what you will do."

"We should teach by example," a student suggested.

"Right. Any chance you get, deal with a potentially violent situation in a non-violent way and point out what you could have done instead. Make them think. It'll take time, but the lesson will sink in, as it did with President McKenna. The current President, too, is tolerant of mutants, while recognising the potential threat. But at least he doesn't mistrust us, which is why Henry McCoy - Hank - is the U.N. Mutant Ambassador. He's letting a mutant speak for mutants to humans, which IMO is a major step forward."

Rogue asked very quietly, "But what if there ain't no other way? What if you gotta use your powers?"

"In that case, Marie, you do what that cop would if she had no other choice: you do what you can. What you must. Sometimes you'll be fighting other mutants, ones who have lost their way or who don't have the same ethical constraints as you guys do. In that event, don't hold back unless you can see a different way forward."

"What about Magneto? Before he got ‛cured', that is?" a kid asked.

"That," Xavier interjected mildly as he entered, "is a very different matter. Erik Lehnsherr is a survivor of Auschwitz, and sadly has allowed his brutal experiences thereof to colour his attitude towards humanity, even though he recognises that there are laudable exceptions such as Moira McTaggert. He once accused me, not without justification, of assuming that all humans were like her. I suggested contrarily that he thought they were all like Sebastian Shaw, or Klaus Schmidt, as he knew the man.

"But in truth, we were both wrong. Yes, unfortunately there are demons on both sides. But there are angels on both sides, too. I recognise this now, whereas Erik did not. You too must recognise it. It is vital, for you are the next generation. If you do not unlearn the mistakes of your parents, you will be doomed to repeat them, and the destructive pattern will repeat itself. You are the key towards the realisation that there is a better way: the way of peace.

"I will be the first to agree, as I have from the beginning, that it won't be that simple. Nor will it be easy, either for mutants or for humans. But it must be done, for the only alternative is the most dreadful civil war imaginable: a genetic civil war. There will be no winners - whoever ‛wins' such a war will ultimately lose."

"Professor, say there was such a war," a young man suggested. "In that event, wouldn't humans be outclassed by our powers?"

"Not necessarily, no. We have superior powers, yes, but they have technology and the weight of numbers - and they certainly do outnumber us."

"Numbers ain't everythin'," Marie pointed out. "The French found that out at Agincourt back in 1415."

"Now, if these men do not die well, it'll be a black matter for the king who led them to it," Xavier agreed. "Quite true, Marie. The French army was defeated by a combination of fortuitous happenstance, bad decisions on their part and superb strategy and tactics on the part of King Henry V. But with the possible exception of myself and/or Ian Holloway, we have no equivalent of Henry. We must strive instead, for their sake and for ours, to head off any such war before it can start.

"And that," he concluded with a smile, "is where my X-Men come in. I think that'll be all for this evening. Thank you, Alison. Class dismissed."

Once the students had filed out, eagerly discussing the pros and cons of the ethical arguments, Xavier sighed. "I wonder what will happen when they discover that Erik has, through sheer force of will, recovered at least some of his powers."

"He has?" Alison asked worriedly. "Ouch. Major problem there, Charles."

"Not necessarily," he demurred. "Erik's experiences of being ‛only' human appear to have sobered him somewhat. He is still greatly concerned with mutant survival, but he is no longer as certain that ruling mankind is the way to achieve it. I -"

He was interrupted by Kitty coming through the wall and saying hurriedly, "Sorry to interrupt, Professor, but there's somethin' major goin' down at the front door."

Xavier recognised her state of worry and touched her mind briefly. He saw instantly what the problem was. "Mystique has shown up," he growled. "Alison, please wait here." He wheeled away at speed. Kitty had already exited through the wall.

Dr. Alison McEwan was far from being a rebel, but she still balked at the notion of taking orders, even those phrased as requests. Given her conviction that it was necessary, she read a student's mind for the shortest route to the front door (and was mildly surprised to pick up on her erotic fantasies - you go, girl, she couldn't help thinking) and took it.