This story
takes place after “Day of Reckoning”.
It is erotica, and therefore is not for the eyes of those under 18 or
easily offended by sexual situations, homo- or hetero-. X-men: Evolution is the property of the WB,
Marvel comics, and several people that I’m probably forgetting. You can’t sue me! I don’t have any money anyway, so it
wouldn’t do you any good. :-P There
are also random songfic elements to this story; the songs used (plus a few
others for good measure) are listed below and belong to their respective artists
and recording companies. If you do
not have these songs or have never heard them, AudioGalaxy is a free peer-to-peer mp3 site
where they can likely be downloaded.
I especially recommend the songs by Anathema, Godgory, Linkin’ Park,
Depeche Mode, Poe and Nickelback as theme music for Wanda.
Comments,
questions, and favorable reviews are encouraged. Criticisms that are phrased civilly will
be taken under advisement. Flames
will be fueled with napalm and returned, causing the offending keyboard to melt
internally and be unable to manufacture any further unchivalrous nonsense. You have been
warned.
Recommended
Musical Accompaniment: Play the
Game- Motorhead
It Doesn’t Even Matter- Linkin’ Park
Angry Johnny- Poe
Blasphemous Rumors- Depeche Mode
Dogma- KMFDM
How You Remind Me- Nickelback
Torpedoes- MDFMK
Empty- Anathema
Conspiracy of Silence- Godgory
Last Note of Freedom- David Coverdale
Nothing Else Matters- Metallica
Can I Touch You… There- Michael Bolton
To The Moon and Back- Savage Garden
By Lady
Eternal
Lance woke at dawn, unable to sleep any longer. Being the practical member of the
Brotherhood, he was used to preparing breakfast early in the morning, lest Fred
come down and ransack the kitchen.
The image, amusing as it was, still caused a sharp twinge of guilt. It really shouldn’t have mattered
whether it was Mystique or the real Xavier; Lance never should have pulled back
without Fred and Rogue. He should
have gotten them to safety, then dragged Speedy home by whatever body part he
could get a firm grip on. The fact
that Pietro was likely also in Trask’s ‘custody’ was also his fault. The speed demon had learned only too
well not to rebel against his father.
That, Lance couldn’t really be angry about, even though he was steamed
with the snowy-haired brat. But
kicking his ass was one thing; leaving him to get kidnapped and experimented on
was quite another.
Still, lying around thinking guilty thoughts wouldn’t accomplish
anything, and his stomach emphasized that concept by growling rather
loudly. With a soft grumble, Lance
cast his blankets aside and got up, finger-combing his hair as he wandered
towards daylight. The others were
slowly drifting out of the caves, sleep not coming easily despite their
exhaustion; several simply walked through the falls as a substitute for a
shower. Storm was talking quietly
with Scott and Jean under a tree; Lance walked over, glancing quickly at the
pool where Todd was catching fish for breakfast while Magma and Tabitha built a
fire. “So, what’s the
plan?”
“Thus far, we’ve managed to determine that very little of the Institute
is going to be salvageable,” Storm informed him solemnly. “Aside from Cerebro and the aircraft,
our major assets are two cars and a stable full of
horses.”
“Cerebro still works?”
“It has an independent power source and mainframe,” Jean explained. “The Professor and Magneto designed it
that way in the event that the Institute was ever…” She trailed off painfully, taking a deep
breath. “They would still be able
to locate allies and enemies in the mutant population.”
“Sounds intelligent,” Lance approved. “Can any of you operate
it?”
“I’ve been training with it,” Jean replied, “but my telepathic powers are
nothing to the Professor’s.”
“Do you think you could find Rogue and Fred and the
others?”
“Maybe.” Jean sighed,
smiling as Scott put a comforting arm around her shoulders. “Trask could have his own methods for
shielding his facilities from telepaths.
Cerebro is just an amp; it can’t punch through whatever shields Trask may
have.”
“What about the Professor?”
“I might have better luck finding him,” Jean admitted. “Wherever he is, he won’t be shielding
himself from Cerebro. Unless Trask
has him, I should be able to figure out where he is.”
“Then you should try,” Storm urged softly. “Lance, you and Scott should discuss
what he needs to know about the Sentinels.
Come, Jean.” Standing, Storm
beckoned Jean back to the caves.
Scott glanced at Lance. “I
think she’s sabotaging us.”
“What was your first clue?” Lance snorted. “By the way, congrats: I didn’t think I’d ever meet someone
faster than Pietro.”
Scott purpled with rage.
“Don’t you ever talk about Jean that way.”
“Relax, Four-Eyes: I meant
you. You’ve gone from pining to
screwing so fast, even Speedy’d be impressed.” The flush quickly became one of
embarrassment and Lance laughed.
“God, you’re such a virgin.”
“Just because you take it anywhere you can get it-”
“And what’s that supposed to mean?” Lance demanded.
“Tabitha.”
The name was thrown down like a gauntlet. Lance knew what this was about: Summers was trying to take the moral
high road here, trying to make himself feel somehow superior to the Brotherhood
despite the necessity of their collaboration against Trask. It made the rock-tumbler sick. “Look, Summers, you’ve spent way too
much time being too Goddamned high on your horse; so I’m gonna do you a favor
and educate you. Tabitha does
whatever the Hell she wants, whoever she wants, whenever she wants. She knows when someone needs her and
when someone needs to be left alone, and there are days when she needs to be
left alone, too. If we’re using
her, then she’s using us right back.
Shit like that happens in the real world.”
Scott looked completely startled by Lance’s bitter diatribe. “What the Hell are you talking
about?”
“Take a good look at where we’re coming from here, Shades,” Lance bit
out. “Not just Pietro or Fred or
Todd or me, but Tabby, too. We
don’t come from families who can afford to send us to some secluded boarding
school with a spiffy euphemism for why we’re there. We’ve lived in foster homes, under
bridges, in condemned or abandoned buildings, sometimes with barely enough food
to live on or clothes to keep the elements away. Tabby’s life wasn’t completely desolate,
but it wasn’t great either.”
“That doesn’t mean that you can just use people for your own selfish
wants. It’s not fair to the other
person, or to yourself in the long run.”
“Try getting pitched from your own home, by parents you thought gave a
damn about you, and being called a freak on the way out the door,” Lance replied
darkly. “It kinda fucks over your
faith in humanity.” At Scott’s
troubled expression, Lance permitted himself a small smile of triumph. “See, sex makes for great comfort, but
we’ve had too many people screw us over to form deeper emotional ties
easily. It’s hard to build the
trust you need for them. Affection
without strings kinda helps; makes you feel human, even when everyone you’ve
ever known tells you that you’re not.
Tabitha needs that just as much as we do; even if she is annoying as
Hell; and she’s more than able to understand that it’s highly likely we’ll all
eventually drift apart, find other people to make us happy, and be nothing more
than pleasant memories to each other.
It’s how you survive emotionally in a world that wants you dead or locked
in some lab for being born able to do things no one else
can.”
“Is that why you think we’re naïve?
Because we believe that ordinary people can and will accept
mutant-kind?”
“Yes.” Lance’s answer was
clipped, his tone cold. “I’d think
Trask would be proof of that.”
“You can’t judge the whole of humanity by the actions of one
narrow-minded-”
“You just don’t get it, do you?” Lance snapped angrily. “You think we’re any different than the
tribal cultures that white Imperialists stomped into the ground? The witches they burned in Salem? The prophets they silenced for speaking
truths that powerful men couldn’t stomach?
Or how ‘bout something closer to home: gays and lesbians, for
instance?”
“Okay, okay: point
taken.” Scott glanced at him
curiously. “Since when did you
become so eloquent?”
“Since some psycho just tried to kill me with a bad Voltron
knock-off.”
The statement caught Scott so off-guard that he couldn’t stop himself
from laughing. Realizing just how
ridiculous his statement sounded, Lance started laughing as well. It felt good to laugh over silly things;
it took the edge off the shadows that threatened. “You know, in another time and place, we
might actually have been friends,” Scott managed.
“Maybe,” Lance replied, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “I’d still have to kick your ass first,
though.”
Wanda watched the other mutants throughout the day, silent and hidden
from the salvage teams and strategic planning groups. There was no point right now in
participating; their efforts were all but futile without their computers. Those not immediately associated with
the previous day’s battle through the streets of Bayville had gone to acquire
some meager supplies, and Tabitha had driven Todd and Lance to the Brotherhood’s
dilapidated manor to gather what supplies they could spare. It wasn’t unusual for no one to have
noticed Wanda by now. Wanda was
good at being unobtrusive; years of isolation and rage and crippling pain made
it easy. But as the day wore on,
Wanda kept hearing stories about the missing mutants. Especially at dinner, as everyone
huddled in the caves and told stories around the campfires to push back the
shadows, Wanda heard silly anecdotes about Pietro and Fred and Evan, boasting of
pranks on Wolverine and Beast, rueful tales of mischievous plans thwarted by the
Professor. But the stories told
about Rogue by both sides caused a curious ache in Wanda’s heart. Certainly, the sixteen-year-old girl was
lovely; Wanda had been haunted by her image from the moment she’d seen the
titian-haired beauty. But to hear
so much of herself in the girl: the
isolation, the betrayal, the pain so deep that it forced a chasm between she and
all who would ever want to get close…
Finally, Wanda left the circle of mutants. Night had fallen, which was what she had
been waiting for. Agatha had always
told her that the night was her time.
You are more in tune with night rhythms, child. You are at peace in the night. Never ignore its call, for you are most
powerful when the night breathes with you. Wanda was about to test that
theory. For her brother, and for
the enchanting girl who haunted her dreams, she was about to attempt the
impossible.
She walked into the ruins of the mansion, her eyes closed and her breath
slowing. She needed the right
place… it had to feel… Her
footsteps stilled as she found the location she needed. Her eyes still closed, Wanda let her
mind relax, let her heart beat by the night alone… She could feel the moon, sense every
star… it was perfect.
A ripple. Just one gentle
shake sends ripples… the fabric folds and slides… moments touching moments… I
can do this… I can do this for her…
Slowly, Wanda raised her hands, her arms stretched out before her with
the palms facing out. In her mind,
she could see the fabric… just a gentle ripple… so gentle, else the sheer, filmy
silk would snag and tear and chaos would reign… Her hands began to tremble. She ignored it. Controlling the ripple was paramount,
even for such a short distance… The
effort was so tightly controlled, so intensely focused, Wanda could feel her
body humming, heat building around her… it was like being trapped in a hot vise…
she ignored it, concentrating on the image in her mind… she only had to fold the
fabric just enough for it to slip through…
Come on, damn you… just a little more… just…
a…
No one knew it was coming.
Without warning, a silent explosion caused the Earth to lurch beneath
them, tossing everyone to the ground.
Kurt glared at Lance as he rolled the smaller mutant beneath his body
protectively. “What did you
do?”
“It wasn’t me this time,” Lance protested, a bit in awe. “I’ve never been able to do
that.”
Storm glanced up from where she had covered Jubilee’s body, quickly
counting heads and assessing any possible injuries. Once again, they were one short. “Where’s Wanda?”
Scott glanced once at Lance and the two boys quickly stood and began to
check deeper in the caves. Watching
for unstable areas, Lance’s brow furrowed.
“This isn’t right.”
“What?”
“There’s no change to the rock.
No shifts, no slipping, no scoring… nothing.”
“Maybe it was contained… inside the Institute...” Scott eyed the surrounding rock warily;
Lance probably knew what he was talking about.
“No… this is weird.” Lance
kept walking, staying close to the walls.
This was one subject he’d actually paid attention to in school; one did
not shake the earth without knowing the consequences.
When they rounded the corner towards Cerebro through the ruins of the
Institute, Scott stopped dead. So did Lance. Neither teen was able to process what
they were seeing.
The doors to the Institute’s lower levers stood solidly just beyond the
cavern, as if they had always been there.
A/N: ::hides behind Psycho B and Lord R as
the angry mob comes looking for her head::
I know, I know! That’s a
horrible place to leave you all hanging, but a dramatic pause is better than
nothing. Chapter Three is coming
soon, though, and you’ll all find out just what the Hell is going on. Until then… don’t hurt me? Please?
;-}