Logan reviewed that piece of information about the cocky little redhead
whose power had launched him into a tree. He repeated this data in his
head while he pulled himself up on a bar, and while he went through his
morning maneuvers. Not, after all, the wee piece of jailbait she liked
to claim.
Nineteen. It made a distinct difference.
Less so, though, if she really did favor that Boy Scout with the funny
glasses.
Oh, but she couldn�t, not that kid. He wasn�t her type at all, didn�t
she see that? She had a queer, dangerous streak in her that the Wonder
white bread boy would never understand, and it would always leave her
wanting, always cause her eye to wander in the end...
Toward men like Logan.
But, he reminded himself while doing some quick jabs, he had a job to
do. He had already gotten in trouble once, for lagging behind in his
work because of a woman. He already had more trouble brewing on the
horizon, if he really did try to smuggle the Scarlet Witch off
somewhere. And the job he was thinking of stalling out on was
particularly important to his employer.
If he didn�t make a good showing with this one, and promptly, Magneto
would have his hide. No, he corrected himself with a revulsive shudder,
Magneto would have his bones.
Try to rapid-heal from that, Wolvie.
Still, he rationalized to himself�partly because he could not bring
himself to give up entirely on the thought of getting into bed with
Jean, and partly to reassure himself, after the unpleasant thought of
Magneto, that he wasn�t actually afraid of anyone�still, he could argue
what a sensitive case this was, a master telepath and all. He wouldn�t
just give over his full trust to someone he couldn�t read right away.
(And neither would Jean, for that matter.) It would take time to win
them over enough to get close to them.
For whatever purpose he needed to be that close.
And, he further persuaded himself, winning Jean over would make the job
of winning Xavier over that much easier, so bound up their two talents
were together.
Why, he almost had to get into Jean�s pants first. Sure. That�s what
he�d tell Magneto, as his skeleton was being painfully extracted from
his body.
Then, as if to dismiss any sign of weakness implied by his last doubts,
he banished the whole train of thought and went off to look for Jean.
***
�Blah blah blah very disappointed blah, blah behavior becoming a blah
blah....�
As they should have expected, they woke the next day to learn that the
lecture from Professor Xavier was far from over. They all stood before
him in variously sheepish poses, but Pyotr, for one, had lost the
ability to listen to it.
�Blah blah emergency blah blah? Blah blah trust blah responsibility
blah!�
Following a schoolmaster�s orders had never exactly been his strong suit
in the first place, after all. He hadn�t ended up working for himself
as a weapons dealer because of high marks in calculus. Suddenly being
expected to behave like a �normal� teenager and pillar of society was
starting to feel stifling.
�Blah blah blah blah even listening to blah?�
Not that he was thinking of leaving. No, he had friends here now; he
had Ororo. Well, not exactly, he corrected himself, vaguely annoyed.
Technically, Hank had Ororo. They were in �love� or some such
nonsense. Please. As if that ever really happened. But anyway, Pyotr
liked her, and to recapture her interest, he was even starting to follow
the Professor�s silly suggestion to start �rehumanizing� himself. He
was standing here today, being lectured at, in his soft-flesh form,
something he hadn�t done for a while. He was gratified to see Ororo�s
eyes occasionally wander over to him. No, he wasn�t leaving this field
of contest yet.
Anyway, he couldn�t go back to passing as human. He wouldn�t. This was
his chance to be among his own.
It might even be worth standing around while some old cripple prattled
on about responsibility.
Hey, said a voice in his head. What d�you think he and Dr. McTaggart
get up to, when he takes these trips?
He tried not to look over at Jean. I dunno, he thought.
I think his junk works, Jean went on, and I�ve seen Moira before, and
she�s pretty hot. Think he�s mad because he had to come home early from
his own big sex weekend?
Pyotr put on a stoic face, even as his mind filled with telepathically
enhanced images of the Professor in compromised positions.
What do you think they do? Think he pretends to be Wolverine?
That was too much, especially with its accompanying image. He gave one
small, stifled laugh, and knew that he was not the only one.
The Professor�s face changed abruptly, and he cleared his throat.
�Jean?� he said in an icy tone, both aloud and mentally. �I admire your
creativity, but could you choose some other time to exercise it, and
some other subject?�
�Yessir,� said Jean.
Xavier rubbed wearily at his forehead, and sighed. �All right,� he
conceded, �clearly I�ve lost your attention. But I am not done with
you. I really must impress upon you the importance of�all right,
later. Except for you, Jean,� he added, as the others turned in relief
to leave the room.
Jean looked wistfully after the others as they abandoned her to her
additional lecture.
As the door closed behind them, Wolverine wandered past the shamefaced
group, and to Pyotr�s bewilderment, gave them what could almost be
considered a sympathetic smile. �More lectures from the old man?� he
asked them. They all nodded. �Always rough, having to answer to
someone,� he said, putting his hands into his pockets. He said nothing
else for a moment, but studied the door. �Jeannie�s still in there,
huh? Too bad.� He gave a less-friendly nod to Scott, and walked away
down the hall.
Jubilee watched after him with a starstruck look. Bobby looked at her,
then at Wolverine, then yanked Jubilee by the hand in the other
direction. Scott stood very still for a second, jaw clenched against
Wolverine�s private jab, then skulked away quietly fuming.
�Hank,� Ororo whispered, touching his hand, �if you don�t mind��
�Not at all,� Hank smiled. �It does look like he needs a friend right
now, and you know him better than I do.� Ororo smiled back at him, and
briefly at Pyotr, and then ran after Scott to talk him down.
And that left Pyotr and Hank. Awkward.
But Hank smiled up at him as if there was no problem in the world and
said, �Do you like to play darts?�
***
Magnus paced the sparsely furnished room while he waited for an answer
to his summons. He had meant to talk to Wanda today, had again shored
up his determination to tell her the truth, no matter how awkward the
subject was.
Not an easy thing to tell a lovely, grown woman that he was her father.
Of course there was no doubt of that. And he smiled, involuntarily,
thinking how wonderful it had been to discover that he had heirs,
mutants like himself, to make his fomenting revolution and its goals
personal as well as political. Wanda especially, who seemed to embody
the best traits of both himself and her mother�Magda�s beauty brought
into the new race, combined with some of her father�s wits and all the
advantages of the homo superior. Unlike poor Pietro, short-tempered and
dull, despite Magnus�s best attempts to nurture any spark of potential
in him. But at least, Magnus consoled himself, not a sapien. At least
there was that much good in the boy. That, and loyalty, to the cause
and to his more promising sister. It would have to do.
But he had meant to talk to Wanda first, because she was more
reasonable. At least he had thought she would be�but again, some petty
nuisance had imposed itself moments before he could approach her...and
this time, he had recognized it for what it was.
She was avoiding him.
She had never seemed especially afraid of him�another trait he liked in
her, such a pleasant contrast to the fawning of his other subjects, to
the way her mother had fled from him when she realized what he was�so he
could only deduce that she mistrusted his motives. Could she really
think that he would force himself on such a young woman? That he had
brought her and her halfwit brother�his halfwit son�into his inner
circle, just out of an old man�s lecherousness?
Evidently so. He sighed. He could forgive it, on reflection. She was
a lovely girl, probably accustomed to attracting an unwholesome degree
of interest from the men around her. He frowned at that, wondering
whether she had encountered any such difficulty here. He should have
her shadowed, he thought, so as to find out and punish whoever was
creating such unhappy defensiveness in his child.
Finally, the knock came, and the door opened and closed. The fey, blue
woman he had sent for struck a deliberately provokative pose against the
closed door. �I�m here, Magnus,� she cooed. �Who am I today?�
�Magda.�
Mystique curled her nose in distaste. �Again? I�m bored with that
game, darling. Can we at least branch out to other redheads? Jean
Grey, Wanda...?�
�Not Jean Grey. Absolutely not Wanda. Magda today, or no one. Pray
don�t make me insist.�
�Oh, all right,� she sighed, with a cockeyed grin that said she minded
less than she pretended. �To hear is to obey.� And the skin paled to
human tones, the shocking red hair muted and curled, and shortly it was
his Magda standing there.
No, he corrected himself. Of course it was not his Magda. But then,
this one was actually �his� as the original had never really been, not
even before she had learned the truth about him. This one wanted him
for what he was, understood his nature and shared it. This one wasn�t
years dead, of complications after giving birth to children she had
never intended for him to meet.
But he had found them. And he had found a way to keep her as well.
�Come to me,� he said softly, holding out one hand in invitation. She
slinked toward him even more suggestively than Magda could have done,
lifted her hands to his helmet and removed it, freeing his mane of white
hair to fall around his shoulders. She wrapped arms around his neck and
kissed him deeply, her tongue not quite as yielding, her taste slightly
different. But it was close enough.
�Ah, Magnus,� she purred, �I can almost feel the power moving through
you when we�re this close�it intoxicates me.�
Exactly the opposite of what Magda had said. It would feel pathetic and
contrived, he thought, if only he needed to hear it less, or if, from
the shapeshifter, it did not sound so utterly sincere. And this time,
that changed his mind about the whole exercise.
�Mystique,� he said quietly.
Her Magda-face looked disturbed. �Am I doing it wrong? I thought I had
it down by now��
�That�s not it. But you�re right...perhaps I�m tired of this one too.
Let�s try something else.�
She grinned. �All right. What would you like instead?�
�You, Mystique.�
Now she looked confused. �I�m here. Unless you mean...but you don�t
mean that...do you? I mean, no one has ever....�
�I do mean that,� Magnus smiled, now certain that he had done the right
thing by changing the game. Properly handled, this would not only be a
pleasant change of pace for him but make her loyalty to him all the
fiercer. �It is a great gift that you have, being able to pass as
human, when your own beauty is so advanced, so far beyond human.� He
touched her cheek meaningfully. �What a crime to make you hide that
beauty here.�
She blushed�a strange blush, turquoise on her still-pink face as she
relaxed her hold on Magda�s shape. The red of her hair grew vivid
again. �Really?� she grinned, her eyes glinting. As he nodded, she
cried, �Oh, Magnus!� and leapt on him, kissing him now with even more
fire, so wild in her enthusiasm that she knocked him back a step.
He took her head in his hands and pulled it away from him to catch his
breath. �Ssh, calmly,� he laughed, �calmly!� He reached behind her to
undo her top�cursing inside his head at how difficult he found the job,
and at how he knew she was fumbling in turn to find his way out of his
uniform, even after so many times before. �A new look for the new
race,� he had intoned regally to the seamstresses; but gods alive, these
costumes! How cumbersome they could be!
It didn�t feel so different from normal, her dark, shining blue skin.
Only the coloring revealed her as the wondrous new creation she was�and
not even that, of course, unless she chose to let down her guard, wear
her own face instead of that of a naked ape.
Yes. It was only right, then, that he have her this way. Turn his back
once and for all on his last, half-guilty bond to the primitives and
embrace the future, literally.
He laid her down on his bed and rested beside her, one hand tangled into
each thatch of wild, berry-red hair as he grazed, almost casually,
across her throat and chest. She moaned and growled�being that sort�and
clawed at his back, urging him to do more. �Not yet,� he said, and
playfully swatted her hands down with his power. She always loved that;
she wore special jewelry whenever she came to see him, specifically so
that he could do it without reaching into her blood.
With her pinned down and grinning madly, he took his time, slowly
letting one hand wander over her breasts and belly as he studied her.
Tracing the hand downward to open her up with long, smooth strokes, his
body pressed up close against her side as he blew his warm breath into
her ear. She rolled her head back and groaned, desperate for him,
wanting more, now.
No, not now, he thought, amused, continuing to build his slow assault.
In my own good time. I am the master here.
She knew that, of course; so although she writhed and whimpered she made
no more concrete protest.
At last, he mounted her in a smooth rolling motion and almost
immediately was inside her, her hands pinned beneath his. She gasped,
beamed at him as if he were her private god. (And he might be. It
would not be so inappropriate.) He watched her face relax, flushed�and
the flushing proved to be fascinating, colors playing unexpectedly
across her cheeks. Intrigued, he rose up onto his knees, lifting her
legs up to keep them held together, so that he could watch her whole
body.
She was like his own private light show. A whole rainbow of colors
seemed to play across her flesh in cloudlike bands, quick and vivid or
slow and shadowy, depending on how aroused she became. He watched them,
transfixed. Why, this was marvelous. Why hadn�t they done this months
ago? The time spent pining for a long-dead sapien seemed all the more
perverse and bestial now, compared to this wonder that only he had seen,
that only he had been worthy to see.
Their orgasm appeared before him as ripples of peach and magenta,
spreading out from the point where they were joined and moving up her
torso in alternating waves. Then, slowly, the return to deep, endless
blue.
He laid down beside her again, surprised at the intensity of the tryst.
Again, he pondered his insane waste of her talents and her nature, of
having so long forced his new Eve to play at being various monkeys.
She sat up and reached for her clothes.
�What! Are you going?� he asked.
She looked at him, confused. �Should I not? I usually do.�
�You need not, just yet. Come, relax.� He pulled her back down beside
him, where she seemed happy enough to lie for a while more. �But remind
me, later, that I have to speak to Wanda and Pietro. Very soon.�
***
Jean emerged at last, rubbing at her head wearily. Angry lectures from
one telepath to another were bad. Wolverine�Logan, she corrected
herself, determined to find the human side of him, something she could
relate to�was standing outside, leaned casually against the wall, as if
he had been waiting for her.
�That must�ve been quite a session,� he said. �You�re shaking.�
�No I�m not,� she snapped, but of course she was. She hid her hands
behind her back. �Are you waiting for the Professor?�
�Nope.�
She frowned, uncomfortable under his keen gaze. �What, then?�
�For you. I saw you didn�t come out with the others.�
She looked carefully at him. She couldn�t read him as well as the
others; there was something there that resisted even her most casual
appraisal. It made her nervous. So did the absolute poise, as he stood
there, looking so very comfortable and sure in his body in the way no
teenager could ever be, almost glowing in the certainty of his healthy
and well-shaped form...watching her stand there, looking
self-consciously back at him.
She shifted her weight, cleared her throat. �Well, thanks. I�m fine.
Have you seen Scott?�
He smirked a little, at the name she guessed he hadn�t wanted to hear.
�Nope.�
Still looking at her. Still looking at her with that perfect poise,
with those eyes, like a predator sizing up prey. �I should go and find
him,� she said, casting her eyes down to break the spell, and walking
away down the hall.
A little sigh, and then, in that low, growling voice, �Catch you later,
Jeannie.�
She did not allow herself to look back.
In the rec room, Pyotr and Hank were playing darts. They looked tiny in
Hank�s huge hands, almost comical. Still, he seemed to be winning.
Pyotr frowned at the back of his head.
�Hey, have you guys seen Scott?� she asked them.
�No,� said Hank. �He isn�t with us.�
�He stormed off after we escaped,� Pyotr explained. �Wolverine said boo
to him, or something. Storm went to calm him down.�
Jean groaned inwardly. Wolverine, sure, naturally. �Which way did they
go?�
Pyotr gestured vaguely, and Jean could only nod and follow what
direction that provided her.
�Well,� said Hank�s voice behind her, after the sound of one last dart
hitting the board, �that makes it four weeks that you take my chore
roster. Do you want to play double or nothing again?�
The gardens were blooming nicely, all pink and yellow and green. Now
that she was closer, and paying more attention to externals than her own
inner disturbance about Logan, she could feel Scott�s slowly ebbing
resentment off to her left, and Ororo�s reassurance. She moved toward
them.
She opted not to pry too deeply into their thoughts, to be polite; but
she almost couldn�t help but catch Scott�s closer. I suppose you�re
right. But I still think Logan�s an asshole.
Of course he is, Ororo replied, amused. But no threat to you. Ignore
him.
I�ll try. Thanks. An unexpected rush of warmth as he added, Thanks for
everything.
What did he mean, thanks for everything?
Curiosity got the better of her, and she poked deeper into him to trace
the source of that comment�and got much, much more of a visual than she
wanted.
She shoved the train of thought away from her before it could finish,
but there was quite enough of it left; quite enough of Ororo�s naked
body, memories of touch, of�
She stood mortified for a minute, unable to move. Then, slowly, the
growing, speechless anger inside her managed to form a few slow words.
How...did...this...happen?
�Jean?� Scott�s voice called out, and she was frozen again. She had
projected the thought outward. Oh, God.
He and Ororo appeared from among the trees, hurrying toward her. �Jean,
what�s wrong?� Scott frowned, his voice full of concern.
Ha! �What�s wrong?� she forced out of her strangling throat. �I know
about you and Ororo, that�s what�s wrong.�
He stopped short, astonished at being found out. As if he had never
imagined that a telepath would find him out! �Me and Ororo? But
that�s...� a pause, as he realized what had happened, then a look of
panic. "But Jean,� he said softly, reaching for her arm to pacify her,
�you don�t understand. Let me explain��
She jerked free of his grasp. �What in the world do you think there is
to explain, Scott? What do you think will make this better?�
�Christ, Jean, ease up!� Ororo frowned. �You guys weren�t even dating
yet!�
�That�s true, Jean,� said Scott, in a soothing tone, as Jean eyed the
other two suspiciously. �In fact, I thought you were with Hank then.�
Jean barked out a bitter laugh. �Me and Hank? Where the hell would you
have�� But then, of course, she remembered his friction with Hank at
the rave, and Ororo�s confession of her own beliefs in that regard.
�Oh, naturally,� she answered herself, dripping acid, as she turned to
look at Ororo. �He got that idea from you.�
�Jean, for crying out loud, would you listen for a minute?� Ororo
snapped. �You�re not thinking straight!�
�Don�t you dare tell me how to think!� cried Jean, slowly backing away.
�Don�t you dare to speak to me!�
�Jean,� Scott pleaded, �you don�t understand. If you would just calm
down and listen for a minute...look into my heart if you want to....�
�No!� she roared, and stormed back into the mansion.
***
Behind the receding figure of his furious girlfriend�if she still was
that, now�Scott fell to his knees in the grass and buried his head in
his hands.
Ororo shook her head. �She is really messed up over this, Scott. We
should go after her.�
�No.� He sighed. �No, she�s not going to hear anything we say until
she�s calmed down. If we try now we�ll just get more of the same.�
Ororo knelt beside him, gingerly touched his shoulder. �I�m really
sorry about this, Scott.�
�It�s not your fault,� he assured her, but his voice was raw with his
own distress. �I never would have gotten up the courage to be with her,
if it hadn�t been for you.� He laughed bitterly. �On the other hand,
losing her hurts way more than not having her in the first place.�
�She�ll come around, Scott,� Ororo whispered. �You guys love each
other. It has to take more than one misunderstanding to wreck that
forever.�
***
�Hank. Need to talk to you. Now.� Without another word, Jean stormed
back out of the rec room and toward Hank�s room, trusting him to follow.
He did, flustered. �Well,� he asked, once the door was finally closed
behind them, �what is it, Jean? What�s got you so upset?� He fixed his
calm, friendly eyes on her face.
She wasn�t thinking clearly, beyond her vague plan for revenge. To win
his cooperation, she had to hurt him, fill him with the same pain she
was feeling. She spoke as bluntly as she could bear. �You know that
Scott and Ororo had sex, don�t you?�
�What?� His face blanched. �When?�
�Before the party. She fed him some line about you and me trysting, and
then threw herself at him.�
He raised his eyebrows. �You and me?�
�He bought it because we�re together so much. I�ve gathered that they
had a delightful time. I wouldn�t put it past them to hook up again.�
Yes, there, she noted with only a distant pang of guilt, there was that
ripple of despair starting. �Are you sure?� he asked quietly.
�Of course I�m sure.�
She could see his mind working, reaching frantically for something to
make it okay. �But that was before the party, you said. That was
before�� he stumbled, atypically at a loss for words, a good marker of
his distress. �That was before.�
�A day or two, yes. Big deal. That�s apparently the kind of faithful
natures they have.� There, twist the knife in, Jean, there.
But even that jab to the heart didn�t provoke quite the response she
wanted from him. He was crestfallen, yes, but not defensive, not
angry. �I need to talk to her about this,� he rasped, and turned to go.
She grabbed his arm. �No, talk to me,� she demanded. �You can�t
believe anything they tell you anyway.�
�Jean,� he frowned. �Jean, I�m no happier than you are. But it�s still
possible that we�re overreacting. I need to clarify��
�Clarify!� she snorted. �There�s nothing to clarify, Hank. She doesn�t
even deserve your effort. All she deserves is to have all her lies come
true.�
Now he looked shocked, and a little alarmed. �What are you suggesting?�
She slinked around him, pressed herself against his broad chest, looking
down the short distance into his bewildered eyes. �I�m suggesting,� she
breathed, �that we should do what we�ve already been accused of doing.�
She gave him a slow, smoky kiss.
He pushed her away. �Two wrongs don�t make a right, Jean.�
�Sure they do.�
He pushed again, more insistent but still gentle. �You�re a beautiful
woman,� he said, apologies in his tone. �I�d be a fool not to notice
that. If we weren�t both in love with other people, this would be a
wonderful idea. But not this way, Jean. Not for this reason.� He
sighed. �I�ll support you in whatever decision you make about Scott, of
course, and of course as your friend I�m sorry. I�ll come back to
discuss it with you another time. But for now, I really think I should
go.� He turned his back on her again.
And that was one more outrage than she could bear. She lashed out with
her mind, felt him resist for a moment�tricky to hold at first, like
quicksilver�and then he was hers.
�No,� she growled, �you�re not going. You don�t want to go.�
He stood frozen for a moment, then turned to face her with a feckless
smile but grieved eyes, distantly aware but helpless against her
talent. �No,� he echoed, �I don�t want to go.�
�Then come here,� she commanded.
He obeyed, and after another mental nudge he wrapped his massive arms
around her, responded this time to her kiss. For all his body�s obvious
strength and animality, his touch was amazingly soft and tender, better
matching his inner nature.
That inner nature continued to struggle meekly against her stranglehold,
but not with such force that it could not be safely ignored. �That�s
better, Hank,� she smiled, as she unbuttoned her shirt for him and led
one of his hands forward to cup a breast. The expanse of his hand made
even her generous proportions into almost a comfortable palmful, an
unusual and rather pleasing discovery.
Her tongue sought out his, seeking a deeper version of his strangely
sweet kisses. Responding to another inner prompt�it annoyed her,
vaguely, that she had to keep urging him forward even now�a hand snaked
its way down to her jeans, opening them with surprising dexterity for
such thick fingers, and insinuated itself into her panties. She moaned
with pleasure as he pumped a finger inside of her for a moment; then as
he brought the finger forward slightly and rubbed at her, with a
certainty implying more experience than she had credited him with, she
gasped and fell forward onto him, clutching eagerly at his back, her
kisses full of genuine passion.
She reached down in turn to stroke his, oh god, massive member, which
was firming up enough to strain against his pants. He couldn�t possibly
be as big as he felt, she thought, giddy with anticipation that verged
toward fear. She had to see this for herself. She went down on her
knees, dragging her hands along his barrel torso as she went, started to
work on opening his pants.
He put a hand on the back of her head, gently scratched her hair.
�Jean,� he pleaded softly, and the strange imbalance of his voice made
her look up at him. His eyes were unquiet, reflecting, like his voice,
a tension still present in him between the Hank she had called into
being and the Hank she had suppressed, between begging her to go on and
begging her to stop.
Jean! some remnant of sanity cried out in her own mind. God in heaven,
Jean! Do you really want to rape your best friend?
She stood and stepped back from him, realizing in horror what she had
been doing. Abruptly she released her mental hold on him, and he
recoiled physically�that was how much force she had been using to force
him to her will, she thought, sickened. Quickly she closed her shirt,
and her eyes darted to his again, to see how he was. She saw mostly
confusion, for now, but she knew that very soon, when he had recollected
his wits, that would give way to pain and rage.
Not at Ororo, or at Scott. At Jean.
�I�m so sorry, Hank,� she whispered, struggling to control her voice,
�I�m so sorry.� Without looking at him again, she fled into the hall.
***
Two days later, Magneto was pacing in front of a table with Wanda and
Pietro seated together at the opposite end. He had decided to talk to
both of them at once, to have it done and to circumvent Wanda�s
reluctance to be alone with him, not realizing the harmlessness of his
intentions toward her.
�I have brought you here to confess,� he began, in a more mumbling tone
than usual, �that I have had secret motives in promoting you to your
current positions.�
He glanced over at them. Pietro looked curious; Wanda, vaguely ill. He
realized that he had better be out with it quickly, before someone
materialized with an urgent need to take Wanda elsewhere.
�I�m your father,� he said bluntly.
�I beg your pardon?� said Wanda.
�Your mother, Magda, and I were lovers, a long time ago. She left me
when she discovered what I was�and so I believe that she would have
abandoned you both, had she not died, when she realized how you took
after me. You will not like my saying that,� he added, with another
glance to them, �but I knew her, and you did not. In my young
foolishness I pursued her, fruitlessly enough. By the time I found her
she was years beyond my help. But I did learn of you then, and I
searched for you in turn. When I found that you were both mutants like
myself, I had you brought here.� He paused meaningfully. �Wanda, you
look skeptical.�
�Well, I mean,� Wanda stammered, �how are we to know the truth of this?�
�Dear girl, how else did you both become so powerful? At any rate, I
can have testing done if it will serve to reassure you. Meanwhile, I
will call your attention to the shape of your own features, and to
Pietro�s unusual coloring.� He removed his helmet to more clearly
reveal his own prematurely white hair, his own features.
He stood stoically and watched them both pore over his face, then each
other�s, as if they had never seen them before. Pietro�s mouth slowly
turned upward into a hopeful grin�him being, Magnus recalled, so
enamored of the idea of family. Wanda looked, if not joyful yet, at
least relieved.
�So, Magneto�I mean�� she looked uncertain.
�You may call me father.�
�Yes, father!� said Pietro.
�Father,� Wanda echoed. �What now?�
�Now, I may be more plain in my motives with you. You are to be my left
and right hands, and many years from now, my successors. Attend well to
what I teach you, and I will shape you into worthy inheritors of the new
world.� He reached out his hands to them. �Come, show me that you
accept me as father as well as leader.�
But none of the three of them were entirely comfortable with that; so it
became a rather stiff display, with each of the children taking one of
his hands and kissing it, as if they were meeting with the Pope.
But it would do, for a start.
***
Pyotr looked around the room, bored and dejected. Jean hadn�t poked her
head out of her room for days. Neither had Scott. Neither had Hank,
for some reason. And that in turn had Ororo looking sour, though she at
least had emerged. Bobby was not particularly down�except at seeing the
rest of the team so agitated�but was bored, because Jubilee was off in
special training sessions with the Professor. She was still training
separately from the rest of them, being so young, not yet a full member
of the team. Wolverine hung around the back of the room for a minute,
scoping out the rest of them sitting there, then went off with a sly
look and never came back.
Finally he couldn�t take it any more. He slid over next to Ororo on the
sofa, and asked her quietly, �Obviously Scott and Jean are fighting
about something. But what�s up with you and Hank?�
�You won�t say anything to him, will you?�
�Of course not.�
Ororo sighed. �Well, before the rave, I had a quick, um, thing with
Scott. It was nothing serious! He couldn�t get his nerve up to ask
Jean out, and well, that was how I could think of to help. Anyway, it
did work.� She looked at him as if waiting to be accused.
Pyotr shrugged. �You�re right. So, Jean found out? Is that what the
fight is about?�
Ororo nodded. �She wouldn�t let us explain�she just totally went off at
us. And since Hank hasn�t come around either��
��you�re worried that she�s got him thinking the same thing she does,�
Pyotr finished for her, and she nodded again. �That�s awful. He should
at least have come and heard your side of it before deciding, even if he
heard it from a telepath.�
She laid her head dejectedly on his shoulder, and once he recovered from
the shock, he carefully put one arm around her.
�Hey,� he said, �you�ll be all right. I�m here for you. You wanna go
and get a hot dog or something?�
She looked up into his face, smiled a little, nodded.
Unfortunately, Bobby had picked up on this last exchange, and bolted
toward them. �Can I come too?� he begged. �It�s SO boring around
here....�
***
There was a knock at the door.
�Go away,� Jean groaned.
But instead it opened, and footsteps came in a few paces, stopped. �You
can�t mope in here forever, Jeannie,� said a familiar low growl.
�Yes I can,� she retorted, burying her face under a pillow. �Go away.�
Instead he sat down at the foot of the bed. �Are you even going to tell
anyone what you�re moping about?�
She bolted upright and glared at him. �Not you.�
But he just smiled at her peaceably. �Why not me?�
�Because I don�t trust you.�
�Why not?� Then, in response to her arched eyebrow, �Fine. But I�m the
only one here who�s not already a part of your little teen melodrama,
and doesn�t want to be. Who�m I gonna tell?�
�I suppose you�re right,� she sighed. �But you�re just going to laugh
at me.� He didn�t answer to this, so she sighed again, stared at her
hands. �I found out that Scott cheated on me with Ororo.�
�Why would that make me laugh?� said Logan. �I never did think the
gutless little punk deserved you. But I wouldn�t have wanted this to be
the way you found out.�
This stopped her in her tracks for a moment. Sympathy? From Logan?
Surely not. �That�s not all,� she went on, her voice trembling now. �I
was so mad...and then I went and found Hank, and I...did something
terrible...I....� But that was all she could get out without blubbering
like an idiot, so she buried her face in her hands.
Still no trace of mockery from Logan. He was close enough now to feel
his breath on her hands as he answered her. �We all do terrible things
when we have to, Jeannie. Go easy on yourself.�
More sympathy, and again she stopped short. Had she caught a trace of
vulnerability in him? She tried to trace it back but felt it dissolve
in her grasp. No, it must only have been an illusion. Wishful
thinking. (But why would she wish�she didn�t, of course she didn�t.)
But she remembered what she knew of his tortured history.
He knew all about having to do terrible things.
She lowered her hands from her face to find his face close to hers, his
hands ready to take her hands and hold them back from a repeat
performance.
�Jean,� he said, her proper name for once, his face dark and
surprisingly warm, �would you like me to help you take your mind off
this for a while?�
There was something raw, almost archetypally masculine about him this
close, something that made her senses reel. Without thinking, looking
only at the smiling mouth close to her own, she nodded, and
instinctively closed her eyes as he leaned in to press his mouth to
hers. A warm kiss, an expert one, and she melted into it with a sense
of need she could never have expressed. His hands were hot, and her
clothes gave way to him as if he were only sweeping away clouds, so
trivial compared to the way her skin called out to his. She leaned back
on her arms and gasped as his mouth fell away from hers to sweep down
onto her throat, grazing her skin with his teeth�gently, this time, to
test her response.
Half-delirious, she reached one hand up to grab his head, clumsily, and
hold it there. So he stayed for a moment, kissing and biting at her,
and she could feel the quickening of his breath. Then, gently, he pried
her hand away, and she fell back onto her pillow as his attention moved
to her breasts, sucking and pulling at them so ardently that she cried
out, arching her back as high as she could toward him.
Still pinching, he raised his head away from her for a moment, a teasing
grin on his face. �Ssh,� he whispered, �not too loud, Jeannie.� Then
his tongue curled around one of her nipples, and she bit her lip against
crying out again.
But soon he was moving again, slowly kissing his way down her belly,
slowly, teasing her again. She opened her legs for him and tried to be
patient, but soon found herself growling and pushing at his head. He
laughed at her for that, and then suddenly her lips were in his mouth,
his fingers inside her, and there was nothing she could do but writhe
and clutch and the sheets and watch the ceiling spin....
And scream, and scream, and scream. She grabbed the pillow and covered
her face with it to stifle herself. A wave of fire rushed up through
her body, making her shake, and it was barely gone before the next one
arrived. And then the next. They seemed to keep coming forever.
But the last one receded, at last, without another to replace it, and
exhausted, she threw the pillow to the floor and lay very still, waiting
for Logan to claim her.
Waiting....
And then she realized that rather than resuming any other contact with
her, he had risen from the bed. She opened her eyes to discover that he
had just finished tidying himself and was turned toward the door.
�Wait, wait...� she murmured, barely coherent, gathering herself up into
what she hoped was a dignified, womanly pose. �Logan...?�
�Sorry, Jean,� he smiled, �that�s as far as I go with a woman who hasn�t
made up her mind. When you�re over what�s-his-name, and you�re ready to
return the favor, you know where to find me.�
And then he was gone.
And Jean sat quietly on the bed, more confused than ever.