Zero Hour

An unexpected visitor turns Logan and Ororo's lives upside-down.

****************************************************

It wasn't really a slaughter...not by much, anyway. The boys, full of self-righteous pity, said that because the girls were a player short, they couldn't possibly play a fair game. Well, the girls insisted on the baseball game then, and said they'd whip their butts despite the fact they were short a player, and despite the fact that they were playing by the "No Powers" Rule. The boys snickered and told them that as "gentlemen" they couldn't in good conscience let them play short-handed. They argued an hour, until Remy settled it. He said he'd play deep left on both teams because he wasn't really partial to the game anyway.

" 'Sides," he said, "on a beautiful summer day like dis, who'd wanna get all sweaty runnin' 'round playin' baseball?"

He hadn't been paying attention to the game since the fourth inning and opted to lie back in the lush grass to take some naps. The boys grumbled at this, but it hadn't mattered—they had yet to hit the ball past third base. But now the girls were down by three, and Ororo Munroe knew she had to do something to save the good name of her fellow teammates.

Logan smacked his fist into the leather glove and adjusted his catcher's stance. "C'mon, Drake, throw that ol' fastball special right here."

Ororo hid her smirk beneath her cap. Logan played the part of catcher well and looked surprisingly handsome (and vulnerable) in his position behind the plate. "What makes you think his pitch will make it past me?"

Logan ignored her. "You won't have any trouble strikin' her out, Drake. She hits like a girl."

"Don't I know it."

Ororo gripped her bat tighter and raised an eyebrow. "I am a girl, Logan. Or are your enhanced senses on the blink, again?"

He grumbled softly. "Honey, the day I misread you bein' a girl is the day Sabretooth dances on stage as a prima ballerina."

Ororo was about to laugh when a sudden WHOOOOSH took her by surprise and knocked her to the ground. She slapped the dirt. "You deliberately kept me talking so I would miss Robert's pitch!"

Logan's eyes twinkled. He reached down and helped her to her feet. "Ain't my fault you can't keep yer eye on the ball, is it?"

"Don't let him distract you, Storm," Jean called. She had inched her way between first and second, ready to steal at a moment's notice, but her husband (and current first basemen) was watching her hips sway seductively in front of him. "He just wants to see us lose. It's a macho guy thing."

Scott Summers grinned wickedly at his wife. "Careful, or Bobby might just beam you with a pitch."

"Shouldn't I be more worried about you beaming me?"

"C'mon, you're short a man. Give it up, you can't win."

"We're short a woman, smart aleck. Which will make our victory all the sweeter."

"Uh, huh. Suuuuure."

They giggled at each other and Ororo felt a pang of jealously. But she shrugged it off, deferring to their playful state, and concentrated on the game. I will pretend the ball is my love life, she thought, and steadied her arm to whack the stuffing out of Bobby's fastball.

"C'mon, 'Ro! Hit it to Jersey!" Rogue chomped her bubblegum while balancing precariously on third base. "We'll show those boys who's boss."

"You and what army, chere?" Remy chimed from the ground. He tipped his baseball cap over his eyes, blocking the majority of the sun, and folded his arms on his stomach.

"Us an' nobody, swamp rat! An' what d'you care? You ain't even payin' attention!"

"Sez you."

"That's right, sez me, an—"

"Look alive, Rogue," Betsy said calmly. "Bobby's thrown a pitch."

WHOOOOSH.

"Shhhhwing, ana miss!" Bobby teased.

"Steee-RIKE TWO!"

"Logan," Ororo muttered, "must you be so loud with your calls?"

"Gotta be, darlin'. Drake can't hear 'em over his own laughter."

"Man, Stormy," Bobby howled. "You shoulda seen your swing. Helloooo...Broad side of a barn? You've gotta work your way up to that!"

She narrowed her eyes, choked up on the bat, and unconsciously took on a battle stance. A distant rumble shook the playing field and Bobby's laughter stopped cold.

"If I have said it once, I have said it a hundred times, Robert. Do. Not. Call. Me. That."

Remy, still on his back, chuckled. His laughter echoed across the field. "Now you made 'er mad, homme. You in f'r one rough ride."

"Yeah, well her name's gonna be mud after this pitch."

"We shall see, Robert."

Drake watched for Logan's signals and shook his head at two of them. The older man growled and stabbed the ground with one finger, but Bobby waved it off.

"Aw, fer cryin'—"

"Problems with your pitcher, Logan?"

"Nothin' I can't handle." He stabbed the ground a final time and Bobby nodded. "You ain't seen nuthin' yet, sweetheart."

"And, old friend, neither have you."

Drake hauled back and let fly his fastest pitch. Storm checked the ball, stepped into the plate and felt the ball connect with her bat's sweet spot. The boys watched, horrified, as the ball screamed over their heads into deep left.

As Storm dropped her bat and ran, Wolverine grunted. "Sure you didn't use your powers for that one, Missy?"

She smiled and kept running.

"Way to go, Storm!" Rogue cheered, sliding into home.

"You go, girl!" Jean rounded second base with Ororo closing on her heels. "We'll tie this one up."

"Hustle up, Remy! Man, you got lead in your butt, or what?"

Remy watched the ball sail over his head and muttered a nasty curse while scrambling from his knees. "I' gettin' too old for dis," he growled, reaching for the ball. But as his fingers caressed the laces, something foreign tickled the back of his mind. His body froze. The air suddenly thickened, clinging to him like a summer on the bayou, and his lungs ached with the heaviness. He jerked up, alarmed, wondering if anyone else felt it.

"What the hell you doin,' man?" Warren shouted. "Throw the damn—"

Storm had stopped in her tracks. Jean also slowed, when she saw her friend freeze. "Ororo, why did you stop? What is it?"

Wolverine was already on his feet and peering into the atmosphere. "Incoming," he muttered, tearing off his catcher's mask. His claws slid from his knuckles.

Storm jogged over to Remy. He didn't notice her presence, and his face looked as nervous as she felt, inside.

"I can't sense anything," Jean said. She held her head and concentrated, but nothing came. "Bets, you feel anything strange?"

Psylocke narrowed her eyes. "Not yet. But...Jean—"

A dark oval bore into the atmosphere, swirling and swelling until it was half the size of the sun. While the X-Men watched, tendrils of black lightning snaked from the circle and rent the sky, tearing at it like a wild grizzly bear. A freight train buzz vibrated through their bodies as the air on the field crackled and popped, and came alive with a hurricane's intensity. The atmosphere circled them like a wild tornado and leapt from the playing field and into the growing sphere.

"Storm, is this your doing? Can you control that wind?" Cyclops was trying his best to shout over the noise, but Storm still had to read his lips to make out what he said. She shook her head as her hair whipped around her.

"The power is not a natural force. I have no ability to—"

A sudden sub-sonic crackling held their attention. One by one the dark tendrils thinned and created sharp wires of darkness. The wires zigzagged into the bigger black circle and began individually plugging into the mass. When the last black tendril stabbed the center of the circle, the sky lit up like the Fourth of July.

"What the f—" Wolverine shielded his eyes, as they all did. The intensity blinded them.

"Merde!" Gambit hissed. He covered his eyes with his hands as the light burned him. He was about to start swearing again, when an ominous thunderclap wiped out the light show and brought silence across the field. The X-Men blinked back the bright dots flashing in their retinas as their summer world returned.

"What was that--?"

"I dunno, but—"

Jean cried out. "Oh, dear God—A girl...Screaming. She's falling!"

"What? Where?" Cyclops ran to his wife as she pointed into the air. No one else could see it.

"I—I can feel her. She's about fifty miles away and three miles straight up," Jean said quickly. "North northeast, and picking up momentum. I don't think she can fly. She's falling too fast."

"Can you manipulate the wind from here, Storm?"

"I can, Cyclops, but I cannot see the girl. If I make any mistakes, I could kill her."

"Jean, can you help?"

She shook her head. "Her thoughts are scattered. She's going into shock, and I can't get a fix on her."

"Rogue--!" Storm called.

"Ah'm on it," Rogue said. She took to the air and flew her fastest to catch up to the girl.

"At that height, and speed, can Rogue adjust her trajectory enough to cushion the fall?"

Warren glanced at Storm, who was frowning. All of the fliers knew that if, after matching the girl's speed, Rogue couldn't turn her body enough to soften the blow, that the girl would die from the sudden impact of being caught. Rogue could get to her the fastest, but she also needed to somehow slow the girl's rate of descent.

"Yes, Warren, if we reach her in time."

She leapt into the air and pushed herself to her top speed. Rogue was already out of range.

Jean, Storm thought. Can you follow any of Rogue's thoughts?

<No, Storm. She's not clearing her mind enough for me. I keep getting psychic echoes.>

Storm grit her teeth and pushed herself even faster.

Rogue will reach her in time. I will not. We must keep the girl alert and awake so you can show me where she is. If Rogue cannot slow her down, then I will have to help.

Jean paused. <That's not exactly a wise move. She could go deeper into shock.>

True. But we can help her overcome the shock. We cannot help her if she dies.

Do what you must, Jean. A woman's life is at stake.

<Understood.>

Storm swallowed. She had to gamble on this move, and they didn't have any time for a backup plan.

<Storm.>

Yes, Professor.

Storm nodded. She sighed a breath of relief when an image hovered in her mind. She psychically saw both the girl, and Rogue, through the Professor's eyes, and Rogue had matched her speed with the falling woman. Unfortunately, Rogue hadn't caught the woman. Storm knew then that the X-Man didn't feel she could safely change her trajectory without harming the girl.

I see them, Jean.

<Yes...The girl's falling at maximum velocity right now, and approximately—>

Storm bit her lip, waiting for Jean and the Professor to finish their conversation.

<Sorry. She's seven point three miles from you at—mark—and you have two and a half seconds before...well.>

Thank you.

Concentrating, Storm did a quick mental calculation and summoned a gust of wind. She didn't see the girl's trajectory change in her psychic vision, but Rogue saw the subtle shift. The girl slowed as the strong wind pushed her sideways to allow time for Rogue to catch her. Storm cursed as they both faltered. It wasn't enough. She risked a greater wind gust, and the woman jerked quickly, like a marionette yanked on an invisible string. As painful as the jolt probably was, it was enough to allow Rogue to scoop underneath and catch the plummeting girl.

<Thank God,> Jean thought. <How is she?>

Storm paused in the air, waiting until Rogue streamed past her in real time. But as the X-Man cradled the unconscious girl to her chest, she shook her head. Storm's jaw stiffened.

Jean, please tell Dr. McCoy to prepare for the worst-case scenario.

The girl was alive, but Ororo read the word "barely" into her deep, shuddering breaths. Dr. Henry McCoy was known to work miracles but this could be beyond even his extensive expertise.

She stroked the temples of the child's short, ebony hair. Her hair appeared stiff and unruly but it was surprisingly soft, and it curled in gentle wisps. Storm brushed a stiff lock behind the child's ear, but it sprung back into her face. Smiling sadly, Ororo wondered if the girl wore her hair short for practical reasons, or for aesthetic ones.

Hank announced earlier that he would throttle any X-Man who snuck into his intensive care room. He said "under no circumstances" should he be disturbed, until he verified the stranger's condition. But Ororo couldn't help herself. She inadvertently caused the girl's condition, and she felt somewhat responsible.

Who was she? Where had she come from? Ororo ran a finger down the girl's soft chestnut-colored cheek and wondered about the deep scratches crisscrossing her distressed face. She felt a strange bond with the poor woman, and the girl's arrival had awakened her own latent maternal instincts. The girl was barely Kitten's age. Her scars looked painful--had the fall done something to her?

"No, no...that can't be right. Impossible...."

McCoy entered the room, intruding on Ororo's thoughts, but he had yet to notice her by the child's bedside. Instead, he was frowning at a ream of documents in his huge, fuzzy hands. He had unconsciously shredded his bottom lip with his two-inched fangs but Ororo imagined Hank had become so used to skimming his lips that he no longer noticed.

"How is she, Henry?"

Hank, startled to see Ororo in the room, blinked owlishly behind his spectacles. "I should have expected that your worry would have superceded my orders. She's stable, which is quite well, considering the alternative." He went to the other side of the bed and checked a few monitors. His clawed finger tapped at the IV bottle and he nodded slowly, apparently satisfied with what he saw.

"The alternative?"

McCoy took his absurdly tiny glasses into a furry blue hand and rubbed his eyes. "Death. One, I found enough of an unknown chemical in her tissues to down a bull rhino. Two, she should have died in the atmosphere on the way to the ground. And three, she should have died when Rogue caught her. The force snapped her neck."

Ororo's frown deepened. "So she is paralyzed."

McCoy shook his head. "Amazingly, she's not. In fact," he said, rifling through his papers, "I took some readings between the time Rogue brought her here and the last ten minutes. Our visitor possesses an excellent healing mechanism. Perhaps not as keen as our good friend Wolverine's, but remarkable nonetheless. Quite a nice feature, when you're falling sixteen thousand feet from the sky."

"So, she is a mutant?"

"I would say so, yes. As to the whys and the wherefores of her existence, well, you will have to pose those questions to her, when she awakes."

Storm let out a heavy breath and stood. "So, she will be all right."

"I believe so," Hank sighed. He perched his glasses on the tip of his nose and studied his notes. "In fact, according to what I've been able to calculate in light of her rapid healing abilities, she should be waking up in the next fifteen hours or so. Quite sore, but alive."

"That is...good to hear."

"Yes." Hank watched Ororo leave and grinned somewhat malevolently. "Oh, and Storm..."

"Yes?"

"The next time you entire my patient's rooms without my permission, I shall call Dr. Reyes to escort you politely out."

Ororo grimaced. "I will remember to ask first."

"I knew you'd agree."

* * *

"So, what's the story?"

The X-Men had gathered in the front room, all wearing varied puzzled expressions. Most didn't care who the stranger was than what--a threat, a botched attack, an alien with a message, or something worse. They were hyper-alert, and Storm wanted to quell their fears.

"Our visitor is stable, according to Hank. She should have died, but apparently she has some sort of healing factor that helped her survive."

Wolverine grunted. "Great. Another Sabretooth."

Storm curled her legs up to her chest and sipped thoughtfully at her tea. "She does not possess the extent of your healing abilities, old friend. I would not worry about battling her. And by looking at her, I do not think she is up to fighting you, just yet."

"Maybe not," he said, crossing his arms. "Still doesn't explain why she's here, or what the flamin' pyrotechnics were. Can't be a coincidence that both happened at once."

Storm nodded. "We can ask her about that when she awakes. Jean, did you or the Professor catch any information before she became unconscious?"

"Not really. She kept repeating words I think anyone would have, if they were falling three miles without a parachute: Home, Dad, Mom, I'm sorry, please forgive me--the whole gamut of emotions. Charles is scanning for news on her background, but so far he hasn't found anything."

"Have you figured out how you were able to hear her thoughts so far away?"

Scott placed his hands on hers as she shifted uncomfortably. "I...don't know, Storm. She's either really good at contacting telepaths, or she knows something I don't. Either way, it's sort of spooky."

"Hank has run a few tests. I will ask him to run more before she awakes. Perhaps we will gather new information."

"I hope so," Bobby muttered. "I'm tired of opening the door to Avon ladies with tommy guns."

Ororo chuckled. "As am I, Bobby. But since we cannot ask anything more of her for the moment, I suggest we relax until we can. She does not appear to be going anywhere, any time soon."

"So you say," Warren muttered before going upstairs. "Forgive me if I sound skeptical."

I do not blame you, Storm thought, but she didn't say it. No one in that room felt safe with an unknown mystery in the house, and she doubted the mansion would sleep well because of it.

III

"Just what makes that little ol' ant

Think he can move that rubber tree plant

Anyone knows and ant...can't

Move a rubber tree plant!"

The stranger wore her clothes two-sizes, too big. She was dirty, smelly, starving, and bloody. Her eyes were swollen with unshed tears but she watched the toddler giggle and slap her father's face playfully. You think you're tough, don't you, baby? The two-year-old's eyes blinked. She turned, full of joy, at the voice in her head. You ain't seen tough. You ain't seen me, yet.

SKRREEEEEEEEEEEEEE---

Jump. New city. New people. Baby's gone, and so are you. Blind yet? Dead yet? Nope. Still hoping? Still dreaming? Foolish little girl. Still playing those toddler games. You awake? Don't matter. Let the fog claim you. Let the fog claim you. Let the fog...

SKRREEEEEEEEEEEEEE---

Jump. Darkness.

"Captain, found another one. Range, One-Zero-Six, mark five."

"Stationary or running?"

"Stationary, sir."

"Fire when you get into range, Simmons."

Boooom. Her world was on fire. Something clawed at her face, and her chest exploded. She looked down, and saw blood on the pavement.

"Pretty-pretty go bye-bye," something said. It had a collar around its neck. Its fingers were long talons, its face tattooed. "Gotta work, gotta eat."

"Ahh, man! Simmons, you idiot. Why'd you send Grendl after her?"

"Sorry, sir. I—I didn't know if she was dangerous..."

"Yeah, yeah."

Two men in blue uniforms and thick masks came into the clearing with guns. The air stank of oil and burning rubber.

"Help me...Hel—"

"Jee-ZITS. Look at her face, Simmons. Can't get any money for her lookin' like that. He put enough poison in her to kill an elephant."

Simmons switched his feet nervously. "Sir, I can't afford anything else coming out of my paycheck. My wife—"

"Tell it to someone who cares, Simmons." He sighed and shook his head. "There's another one down the drain."

He raised the gun at her and fired. She screamed.

HOME!

SKRREEEEEEEEEEEEEE---

* * *

"No!"

She flung the sticky sheets grabbed her chest, gasping. The unfamiliar room sent her into a panic attack. Think, dammit, think! What happened last, what happened, who was it, why are you here, who are you, why...when...what...

Her brain was on fire. What was her name? Her name was M—no. A small smirk played at her lips. Remember the name, she told herself. Call yourself the name. Keep the name, remember who you are...who you aren't.

She analyzed every inch of the room and pulled her legs to her chest. Her fingers shook. Alone was a good feeling because it was so familiar. Alone. Good to be alone.

Why now? Not now. Anywhere/when and now. Her dark eyes hardened. Something happened. Something that brought her here, and now. She wanted to leave, but her reserves were gone. And what did it matter, she had no control. Once she recharged, she would be gone. She would become a distant memory for them. A strange memory. A memory. A memory...

"Can't stay," she whispered out loud. "Not safe."

Why isn't it?

"I'll change it. I'll mess it up."

Is that so bad?

"I could die."

Is that so bad?

"Leave me alone!"

She screamed into her pillow and held her hands over her eyes. Her mind was disintegrating. She had to keep sane. Poison, on Grendl's fingers? Maybe. Got into her mind. Making her think strange. She bit her arm. Had to get poison out. Had to keep quiet. Had to—

She stopped. Her eye caught a movement near the front door. The door was shut tight but it had a window the size of an 8 x 10 family portrait. She saw cigar smoke, caught a lock of wiry hair.

"Get away from me!" She screamed. "Leave me alone!"

Smoke circulated around the hall. He was leaving.

He'll be BAAAA-aaaaaack...The memories, all those lovely memories...they're coming baaaaack...

She grit her teeth. But I'll be ready for them. I'll be ready.

* * *

Sleep? No. Not for you.

Ororo didn't need to recheck her bedside clock. She had been staring at the shadowy neon numbers every fifteen minutes for the past four hours. She wished she could have slept some, but she couldn't help thinking about the visitor in Hank's lab. She couldn't stop thinking that she was missing something about her.

She's familiar, her mind taunted. And you know it.

Ororo flopped onto her back after taking a sharp breath through her teeth. She censored her thoughts. At least I haven't dredged up my love life. How dead is that issue? She loved the friends she had, and they would suffice until something better came. Of course, it didn't help that there were so many good looking, eligible bachelors at the mansion, and that she had had a gigantic crush on one in particular for the longest t—

A faint rustle on her roof halted her thoughts. Her delicate ears caught the nearly soundless footfalls that she alone heard in the bleak silence of her room. She pulled back her bedcovers and slapped on a t-shirt and jeans, and crouched low in the center of her attic room, ready for the attack. After a few seconds she caught the pattern of her intruder's steps and slapped her hand on her mouth to suppress a giggle. Sometimes she could be too vigilant.

Ororo opened the window onto her roof and climbed out. She watched with fascination as her visitor delicately twisted a stubby cigar between his thick, agile fingers. He knew she was watching but he hadn't turned. He stared into the sky as if the stars held answers for him and no one else.

"Bored?"

"Couldn't sleep."

"So you chose to awaken me instead?"

"You weren't any more asleep than I was." Wolverine lay on the roof and crammed the cigar stub in his mouth. She often chided him for smoking such a foul thing, but she secretly felt comforted by the scent. It was distinctly him, like so many other things.

"Had to talk to ya, 'Ro."

"About what?"

He didn't say anything for a few moments. When he finally did, he took the cigar from his mouth and examined it. "The girl. Got another good look at her."

"I see. Do you believe she is a threat to us?"

"Not really."

Ororo sighed and lay beside Logan. Despite the unspoken chill in his words his presence calmed her. "Her entrance was rather unusual, was it not?"

"Uh, huh. Real unusual. Didn't like it."

Ororo chuckled; it was a deep, throaty laugh, and Logan smirked at her. "What's so funny?"

"You, old friend. You hate everything. Everything is a conspiracy." Ororo patted his hand; he flinched. She frowned and pulled back, surprised by his reflex. "She has made you nervous."

"Yeah, well. Maybe she gave me reason ta be." He sat up and ground out his cigar. "Never mind, 'Ro. Forget it."

"What is it? You came up here because you wished to tell me something important. Tell me what it is." She smiled coyly. "The suspense is killing me."

He rose to his feet. An odd, haunted look shadowed his features. "Naw. It ain't that important yet. Talk to ya in the mornin'."

With that, he tromped back over the roof and disappeared over the eaves. Ororo watched his retreating back with concern but she didn't call him back. Yes, he knew something, but he didn't feel confident enough to share it with her. Why? What secrets did he hold?

You know.

Ororo clung to her shoulders as a chill ran down her back. She didn't want to investigate the feeling—it felt too foreign; too dark. The voice inside dared her to, but she shook her head. No. I will not be forced.

But her refusal to see cost her. She stayed frozen on the roof, unable to think, unable to dream, unable to feel, until daylight sifted through the horizon.

"She's waking up."

Hank went to the girl's side. Her dark hands flexed into strong fists and her eyelids fluttered, but thirty seconds passed before she completely opened her eyes. Brown, Ororo thought suddenly. Her eyes are dark brown. And her scars are gone…

The stranger swallowed and reached for her throat, but the tubes and wires connected to her hands inhibited her movements. Hank cupped his huge blue paws behind the girl's head and he delicately placed a cup of water to her dark lips.

"Better?"

"Yes. Thank you," she said hoarsely. She blinked rapidly, staring at his hands, and suddenly gripped both of them. She choked down a sob and clung to his furry paws as a look of joy spread across her features. "Beast..."

He looked up, startled, and glanced around the room. She followed his gaze and, when she saw the other X-Men, her smile broadened.

"You...You have me at a slight disadvantage, child. You apparently know my name, but I do not know yours."

Her face collapsed. She shut her eyes tight, turned from Beast, and sunk her head into her pillow. The muscles in her square jaw worked dangerously. "It didn't...it didn't work. My name isn't important."

"It is to us, darlin.' You sorta came unannounced."

"It's not," she said quietly, but her voice cracked. "Sorry to have troubled you. I'll leave as soon as I'm fit enough to leave."

"Girl, it ain't like you've gotta choice here," Rogue said. "We're kinda curious 'bout stuff like this. 'Specially when it's so near to home, y'know? We'd kinda like to know why we had ta save your life."

She swallowed. "Please...Leave me alone."

"At least tell us your name, child," Storm said softly.

She began chuckling. Her alto laugh was deep and frightening. "Call me Nada. Now, please. I'm tired, now."

Cyclops was about to speak, but Beast raised his hand. "My patient has spoken, and I defer to her better judgment. You may all visit when she feels better. I suggest we forego our questions until then."

"Hank—"

"Tut, tut. The doctor has spoken." Hank gave them a threatening, Beast-like stare over his spectacles, and shooed all, save two, from the room. "That includes you as well, Wolverine and Storm. Scoot!"

Storm glanced at Wolverine, who had a few extra lines beneath his eyes. Apparently he hadn't slept well, either. He stared at Nada and a deep growl escaped from the center of his chest. Alarmed, Storm touched his arm, but he jumped from her grasp as if she'd shot electricity through it.

"Wolverine—?"

His somber gaze wallowed between Storm's face and Nada's stubborn form. "She ain't talkin'. I gotta get some air."

He brushed passed Storm without saying another word. Unconsciously a white film clouded Storm's eyes, and a strong rain pattered the roof. She wanted to say more, or do more, but Beast's eyes were stern now, and he would not welcome her persistence. Before heeding his command to leave the room, Storm heard Nada choke back her tears. The shower outside grew into a summer thunderstorm.

We shall talk later, child. That is a promise.

Contains mature language and violent scenes.

It wasn't like he didn't know. Hell, Nada's scent wafted from her every pore, stung from her cheeks. She was familiar, all right. Dangerously familiar. The truth of who she was brought up old, hidden feelings that he didn't want to admit. He wanted to run from them, to escape, but he couldn't. He felt trapped.

And Storm wasn't listening.

"God-DAMMIT--!"

He slammed his fist into the Danger Room wall. His fist, filled with adamantium, dented the side, and he knew there'd be hell to pay if Scott found out. So what. Danger Room meant danger and hell, he was sure in a dangerous mood.

"Computer. Run Sabretooth Scenario Eighteen."

"Warning. Scenario potentially lethal. Recommend contacting additional X-Men to monitor Control Booth."

"No. Run Sabretooth Scenario Eighteen. Now."

A small beep signaled the change. He bared his teeth and growled as the room morphed into a jungle forest. It stank of old blood and burning iron, and the sounds of Viet Cong and metal music blared through the speakers, surrounding him.

"Dramatic, ain'tcha, Runt?"

The voice trickled through the trees, teasing him. He programmed this Sabretooth especially well—too well, almost. This one knew he was in the Xavier Danger Room, and Wolverine had designed him to play with his prey first.

"Well, well, well. Look who's got jungle fever."

Wolverine felt his control slip. He panted heavily. "Come out, Creed!"

"Sweets wants ta play now. Fine. You think you ready for me, girlfriend?"

"You know I am."

A tank exploded from behind, but Wolverine didn't pay any attention to it. He knew it was a diversion. Burning shrapnel sizzled across his back but he ignored it.

Didn't matter. Creed dropped from the trees above him, and raked his thick claws into the smaller man's back. Wolverine grimaced and reached back with his adamantium claws, but Creed had already jumped free.

Sabretooth disappeared into the shadows. He knew exactly how to hide and the strong scent of charred metal and bodies covered his fleeting tracks.

"Ain't we slow t'night," Creed whispered. "You're distracted, huh? Bet yer dick's gotcha in trouble again. Sweet, fresh meat... Gotta have me one-a them X-frails. Can't wait to feel 'em inside-a me."

Keep talkin,' Creed. Wolverine moved through the jungle like he was part of it, and avoided the mines by stepping on shrapnel and bodies. Your big mouth's gonna give you away.

"Mmmm, yeah. X-girl's on the menu. I heard yer heart skip, Runt, so I know you're pining for an X-girl. Yer too soft. You fall fer ev'ry walkin' cunt on two legs. Who's it today? Red? Juju? Kit-Kat? Roguie? Stormy?"

Sabretooth paused, and Wolverine crouched low to match the silence.

"Heh, heh. Yer heart skipped another beat, Runt. Gotcha. Hearts can't lie. I know it, an' you know it. Tear it out, boy. No heart, no feelin'. Hell, I'll even show ya how it's done."

Wolverine crawled underneath a hot tank and slowed his breath.

"She's pretty, I kinda agree. Don't go for dark meat much, but they all rip up nice an' pretty. And every last one of 'em's Indian red inside."

Creed's voice was getting closer. Wolverine felt himself losing more and more of himself. He was looking forward to ripping Creed to shreds.

"You hidin,' Runt?" Sabretooth jumped into the clearing, and Wolverine saw every inch of his hulking, tangled brutality. Creed took small steps towards the tank.

That's it, mouth. C'mon. Keep walkin'.

"Hidin' ain't too sporty of ya, Wolvie. Kinda cowardly. But, I bet I can bring ya out. Watch this trick: Computer, get me Storm."

Wolverine ground his teeth. He'd programmed this Creed to call up anybody or anything against him. Sabretooth could neither change the intensity of the program, nor the scenario, but he could play with anything else in the entire database.

A facsimile of Storm floated nearby, poised to strike. She looked lifelike.

"Ooh, lookie what I got, Runt. A new toy."

"Will you cease and desist, or must we defeat you, once again?"

Sabretooth laughed, nodding. " 'Cease an' desist.' I like that. Talks just like the real thing, Logan. She bleed like the real thing, too?"

A lightning bolt flashed from the ceiling, nailing Sabretooth in the face and flinging him into a tree. The man howled with rage and clawed at his face and, despite himself, Wolverine chuckled. He scooted out from under the tank while Sabretooth rubbed his eyes. The diversion would be enough to—

"Computer!" Sabretooth roared. "Immobilize Storm!"

Wolverine couldn't take his eyes away. Storm struggled, alive, as if invisible bonds held her.

"Logan--? What is this?"

Sabretooth got to his feet. His laugh was guttural and ugly. The skin around his eyes was charred black, but his healing factor had already caused pink flesh to bubble around his cheekbones.

"Fuck this game shit, Wolverine. Let's do this right."

"Logan--! I—I'm trapped...You must—"

"Let her go."

Sabretooth grinned at him. "No. I want you good an' mad."

Wolverine didn't have time to react. Sabretooth grabbed Storm in one hand and ripped apart her belly with his other. Her intestines spilled onto the ground, but she was still alive...screaming.

"NO!"

"Quit yer bellyachin'," he said, laughing at his own joke. "She's still alive. Watch."

Creed aimed for her chest and ripped a surgical line down the center of her torso. Storm began going into convulsions. He tore back her skin and exposed her heart. "See? Still beatin'."

"Mother fucker--!"

Wolverine flew at him with claws outstretched as Sabretooth dropped the dying Storm figure.

"Yeah, baby. You know what I like." Sabretooth crouched low and waited for Wolverine to hit him point blank.

"Computer!" Wolverine growled. "Immobilize Sabretooth."

"Whaa--? C'mon! You ain't pl—"

Sabretooth didn't have time to answer. Wolverine jabbed his claws into his throat, and ripped his body from voice box to kneecap. Sabretooth screamed, but Wolverine wasn't done. He stabbed the man in the belly and began carving. Red spurted across his claws as he stabbed through Sabretooth's heart, stomach, and lungs. Tissue and flesh hung from his claws. When Sabretooth's screams became dull moans, it fueled his fire. He started laughing.

He drew back his arm for another round but a new, calm voice thundered across the room.

"Computer. End program."

Sabretooth and the jungle disappeared. Wolverine snarled, seeing nothing but a sizzling, smoking robot on the end of his claws. "Bring him back! I wasn't done."

"Yes, you were."

His growl intensified, and it took all of his strength to bring him back from the edge. He panted loudly at the robot and blinked sweat from his brow, and froze his body until he could take normal breaths.

"Now. Would you mind telling me what that was about?"

"Yeah. I would mind." He kicked the robot across the room where it bumped into the wall and broke into several pieces.

"I have not seen you so angry in a very long time, Logan."

He found his towel where he left it, on a chair in a corner. He mopped his face and headed for the exit. "Maybe you ain't seen me in a very long time."

Ororo entered the doorway and blocked his escape. He scowled, but didn't snap at her. He already felt stupid and embarrassed.

"Can you at least explain what prompted your outburst? You have seen my robot double killed in other Danger Room sessions. Do you enjoy coming to my rescue that much?" Her delicate lips curved in a partial smile, which diffused a lot of his shame. He almost smiled back.

"It's complicated, 'Ro. But...thanks fer bringin' me from the brink. It coulda got ugly."

She stepped aside and let him pass. "It already seemed that way, from my point of view. Wait—

Logan..."

He stopped in his tracks but didn't turn around. "Yeah? What?"

At her long pause he glanced over his shoulder. Ororo had weaved her long, dark fingers together, and she was staring at them.

"Please. I think we should talk. I—I cannot bear this secrecy between us."

He sighed. Her concern actually got to him. "Lemme get cleaned up, 'Ro. We can go for a walk out back. A walk will do us both some good."

She nodded. Her soft blue eyes made him feel as immobilized as the robots in the Danger Room.

"Thank you."

"Yer welcome," he whispered. He walked away slowly, but was surprised by the ache in his chest.

"Hon'," Scott joked, "you're as jumpy as a cat in a room of long-tailed rocking chairs."

"Long-tailed cat," she corrected automatically, missing his joke.

She paced their room one last time. He sighed, got up from his chair, and stopped her from pacing by wrapping his arms around her shoulders. "You know I'll let you brood for a while, but I have my limits. Does it have anything to do with our multi-dimensional kids?"

She shook her head and laid her head on his shoulder. He smiled and ran his fingers through her long tresses, enjoying the silky feel across his fingers.

"No. I—I just remembered something. I think I should talk to Charles about it."

"About our little visitor?"

She nodded. "I'm worried about her. Mentally, I mean. There's definitely more to her than meets the eye."

"What, more than attitude?" Scott made a face. "That brat almost took my head off when I tried speaking to her a few hours ago."

"Honey, didn't Hank say leave her alone until she feels better?"

He shuffled his feet. "Yeah, well, I got curious. But Jean, she doesn't just bite the hand that feeds her, she rips it out of its socket and mauls it with her sharp tongue."

Jean didn't bat an eye.

Scott sighed. "Tell me what it is, Jean. Please."

"I'm not sure what it is, Scott. I..."

She gasped, and the psychic bond between them suddenly shut down. When she began trembling, Scott turned her around and hugged her tightly.

"Don't do this to me," he whispered in her ear. "Don't shut me out. I hate it when you do that."

Jean bit her lip and clenched her eyes. "I know, my love. I know. But...this isn't up for discussion right now, not until I'm sure about a few things. I know I have to talk to Charles now. Only he can confirm it."

"Well," he mumbled, "Just let me know if I should be afraid, furious, happy, or sad. Guess I'll figure the rest out later, when I'm spoon-fed with the rest of 'em."

Jean laughed. She ran her fingers across his bitter smirk, and lightly kissed him. "Sweetie, that's why I love you. You know exactly what to say to make me feel better."

* * *

Jean paused at Charles' door and couldn't quite muster the courage to knock. She had discussed major issues with him before—her family, Scott's infidelity, her death, her resurrection—but those things had not made her this afraid. She knew that no matter what, her friends' lives would be irrevocably changed. Forever.

<Charles?>

"Come in, Jean." Professor Xavier had been reading the same six lines of poetry for the past hour. His mind kept wandering to the secrets he read in the child's mind. Things that disturbed him.

"Henry was here earlier, Jean, and he dropped off some of his newest findings on our visitor. His... tests went through the entire spectrum."

"He knows, then." She sank in the nearest chair, and Charles' hoverchair silently floated beside her. "Is he going to say anything?"

Charles shook his head. "He won't, until he's sure of his last DNA test."

"Well, dammit," she exploded, "how much proof does he need? The testimonies of two telepaths aren't enough?"

"Jean—"

"Charles, I think we can safely say that her presence concerns more than you, me, and Hank. You know that."

He nodded. Sad, hard lines dug through his cheeks. "And her secrets should be shared, when the time's right. But I agree with Hank. Until he has conclusive proof, we should keep this to ourselves."

"How am I supposed to keep this to myself, Charles? We've peered into hell."

Charles was too tired to comfort her with a smile. "It's the risk we face as telepaths, Jean. You know that, too. We saved her life, and now we must face both the good and the ill from our actions."

"Charles—"

"Jean." He placed a hand on her shoulder. "It's not up to us."

She shook her head. "But what about Nada, Charles? She's holding on by a mental thread. She has to talk to them. They're the only ones who can save her."

"Nada must make that choice, Jean."

"But she's not willing to, Charles! That's my point." Jean put a hand to her forehead. "If she doesn't reach out soon, if they don't..."

Fear welled up in Jean's gut. Charles knew exactly what she was saying, but he didn't agree. Worse, his thoughts told her he wasn't even going to intervene--!

"You'd let her commit suicide," she said coldly. Charles looked down, confirming her worst fears. "You'd let her die!"

He left her side, sighing, and put his book back on his desk. "I told you, Jean. It's not up to us. This time, it's not our place to choose. It affects too much, and the risks are too great to—"

Jean got to her feet. " How can you sit there and proselytize about the damn 'Dream' when here it is, staring you in the face, and you won't do a blessed thing about it? How can you condemn her like this?"
"Jean—"

"And what about Rachel? Nathan--? Oh, hell, let's throw Maddie in there for fun! They're worthy, but she's not?"

Charles slammed his fist on his desk. "Enough, Jean. Yes, Nada's 'worthy.' Of course she is. But our meddling won't help the situation. We've done too many wrong things in the past. It's time to do something right for a change, something that will last."

"That's right, Charles. It is time to do something right for a change." She headed for the door. "And I'll do it, if you're too afraid."

His study thundered with the force of the slammed door. Charles' frown deepened. He didn't call after Jean or make any moves to stop her, but he tapped his fingers on his desk and stared out the window. He had no answers this time. And both arguments appeared correct.

Condemned to brood, Charles Xavier sighed, retrieved his book, and attempted to read beyond the sixth line.

* * *

"How's the kid doin'?"

Ororo shrugged. The sky blushed a combination of russets and golds as the sun began its slow, careful dip beneath the horizon. After a short trek over the highest peak on the grounds, they sat without speaking and watched it disappear. Logan had been the first to speak after ten minutes of silence. He glanced at Ororo's dark cheek, which glowed a beautiful reddish-brown. The same as the sensual curve of a ripe, crimson apple.

He stared at his own fingers and was surprised to see them trembling. Damn.

"She refuses to speak to anyone. The Professor tried, Henry tried, Cyclops tried—"

Logan grunted. "Cyke couldn't charm a dog with a slab of beef."

Ororo smiled and fell back onto her elbows. "She's withdrawn from us, and no one really knows why. I suppose she will tell us in due time."

"Maybe." A breeze picked up, blowing some of Ororo's long, platinum strands into her face. Without thinking, Logan brushed them back.

"Logan?"

"Hm?"

"Level with me."

He nodded and dug his elbows into the ground. "Sure. You figure it out, yet?"

Ororo studied her fingers, which almost settled her nerves, but he could still hear her racing pulse. "Nada's our child, isn't she?"

He didn't say anything and looked out over the hillside for a few minutes. When he was ready, he met her careful gaze.

"You know she is, 'Ro." At Ororo's look of fear he rubbed his eyes, sighing. "Okay, so maybe she's from another timeline, or another dimension, or somethin'. But she's ours. Yours an' mine."

Ororo surprised him with a throaty chuckle that sounded exactly like Nada's. "Are we at the beginning of another dimensional family? Goddess, Logan."

He smiled. "We already got two dozen Summers' runnin' 'round. What's another kid?"

"And Bishop."

"Yeah. Can't forget Bish." He chuckled and stared into the sky. The orange colors had turned the color of a bruise. "What's with us, anyway? I wonder if anyone else got this problem, or if its just Chuck's brood."

"Who knows?"

"Yeah. Who knows."

Ororo swore an indelicate oath. She flopped her head on his stomach, and glared at the sky.

"Honestly, Logan. I'm not sure what we should do, and it angers me to be in this position."

He lifted his arm to make her more comfortable, and combed his fingers through the ends of her long strands. "No kiddin'. Why d' you think I trashed the Danger Room?"

She looked up into his face, which stopped his heart. "You could have spoken with me. You did not have to go on a feral killing spree."

"Darlin', sometimes there ain't much of a choice."

"There is always a choice, Logan."

"Uh, huh."

She settled her head back on his stomach as the words echoed in his head. Choice. Always a choice. Always...

Ah, hell. Just go for it, Canucklehead.

He shifted position again and reached down, cradling her head in one hand. Ororo frowned and was about to ask him why, but his mouth covered hers, stifling her next words. Her heart raced, but she didn't pull back. Better still, she leaned into him and their kiss deepened. They searched each other's mouths with their eyes closed, with their hands cradling one another's bodies. Neither stopped. Neither wanted to.

"Mmm," Ororo said, when they finally broke for a breath. She traced the line of his jaw. Her eyes were bright, excited, and frightened all at once. "What was that for?"

"Felt like it," Wolverine said. "Felt...right."

"This had better not be one of your jokes."

"No joke," he whispered. She began crying.

"Oh, Logan...Why? Why now? You have the worst timing of any..." He brushed his rough fingers against her lips to stop her speech and she clung to his hand, kissing his fingertips.

"Yeah. So? You can't lie to me and tell me you haven't wanted this for a long time."

"How did you know?"

"How couldn't I know? Hell, woman, your heart booms louder than your lightning whenever I enter a room."

Ororo shook her head. She was still in shock, dazed at the newness of it. "And yet—"

"—I haven't done a damn thing about it," Logan finished. "Yeah, I know. Too wrapped up in other things. Had to deal with 'em first."

She was trembling, so he wrapped his arms around her. God, he wished he'd done this ages ago. Didn't make her wait any less right. She'd been waitin' for him for the longest time, and he'd kept her in damn limbo.

"Wolverine, what about Jean?"

"She loves Cyke, 'Ro. Cyke loves her. End of story."

"But you still love her."

He traced her chin. She looked up, and he felt stung by her eyes. "Not like you think. Not anymore. Took me a while, but I moved on."

"And if she feels—"

"Darlin'," Wolverine muttered, exasperated. He turned her around to face him, and felt her fear, and her anticipation. "I'm tryin' ta tell ya that I don't love her anymore. That I'm fallin' fer someone else. You gettin' it, yet?"

Ororo barely nodded, but he knew he didn't have her. Not yet. She tore away from him and stood up defiantly. "Damn you, Logan. It's not as if our lives are complicated enough. It's not as if we have a potential daughter in there, from another time, one that may or may not come from what..."

He slid behind her and grabbed her waist. He slowly swayed his body behind hers, and her pulse rocketed. She was lovin' it, and he was having fun wearing her down.

"Uh, huh," he said, rubbing his cheek across her neck. "Sounds like a big problem, X-Leader."

She stamped her foot. "Are you even listening to me?"

"Yep." He nibbled on her neck and she moaned softly. "Ain't nothin' we can do about it right now, is there?"

"Are you..." Ororo swallowed. "Aren't you the least bit concerned with her entry? Don't you care about Nada's powers, or what she's capable of? Don't you want to learn—"

"Uh, huh." He placed his strong hands on her waist and spun her around to face him. He started grinning. Her face was moist with sweat, but he felt her desire clinging to his own body, like a second skin. "Tomorrow, 'Ro."

She licked her lips. "What if...what we don't have time tomorrow?"

"Trust me. We'll make time."

She lowered her eyes, and he paused to take in her beauty. He crept closer to her lips, like a hunter after scared deer, but she startled him by wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him into the most intense lip lock that he'd had in over forty years.

VII

Hank, a.k.a. "Beast" McCoy was normally a very even-tempered person. He didn't get angry easily, and his peers often considered him to be kind, generous and yes, even humorous, at times. Of course, his contemporary's friendly commentaries may have been due to his physical countenance more than anything else. After all, most individuals feared blue furry men with fangs too much to tell them the absolute truth. But at this very moment, Hank was on a dangerous cusp. Yes, even the irascible, unflappable, oft-smiling Dr. Henry McCoy had his moments of fury. And this was one of those times.

"You had no right to—"

"Didn't I, Hank? You're treating this like a damned lab experiment!"

Hank slapped the oak table, and a chunk of the wood flew past his blue hands. "I left explicit instructions that she was not to be disturbed! But both you and your husband decided to ignore me, and now the damage to the girl—and us— could carry irrevocable consequences. This isn't up for discussion, Mrs. Summers. The information I have is not conclusive. We cannot assume—"

Logan entered the study, clearing his throat, and Jean and Hank spun around. Waves of guilt wafted from them, and Logan felt like he'd just caught them in an adulterous triangle.

"Sorry. Didn't mean to scare ya."

"No, it's all right, Logan," Jean said. She was blushing, and her heart beat a little too fast. "I was just leaving."

She glared at Hank as she left, looking furious. Logan wasn't going to press the issue—he'd come to talk with Hank, not Jean. But he snuck a quick glance at Jean's back, and smiled. It's really over.

Beast sighed. The one individual he did not want to see at this particular moment stood patiently before him. Ah, the joys of a clinician. He rubbed his eyes. "Is there something I can help you with, Logan?"

Wolverine kept staring at the door as he spoke. "I think you know more about Nada than you're lettin' on, Blue Boy."

Hank anxiously rubbed his neck. "Really? Whatever gave you the impression that—"

Logan turned to him, tapping his nose. "This don't lie. Not like people do. I know she's 'Ro's and my kid."

McCoy let out a slow breath and tumbled into a leather chair. It creaked under his weight, but still supported his massive blue form. "I suspected you would find out sooner or later. After all, she's the spitting image of both of you, save for the claws and white hair. Does Ororo know?"

"We figured it out together, last night." As well as a few other things. He scratched at the back of his neck and smiled faintly at the memory. "Thing is, we sorta figure Nada ain't talkin' because she's scared she's gonna change the future, or something. She knows this is her past, but she's not born yet. That's gonna freak any kid out."

Hank shrugged. "Yes, I imagine so. But are we even sure this is her past? We have so many dimensional travelers, that it seems that she could come from an alternate future timeline. I was arguing with Jean on whether or not we should tell you, in case Nada was from another dimension. If so, it didn't seem right to mention it to you or Storm, unless Nada wished to discuss it."

Wolverine nodded. He went to the Professor's drinks cabinet and measured two whiskeys, one for him and one for Hank. Hank's eyebrow rose, but he took the drink gratefully. Wolverine sat leadenly across from him and traced the glass in his fingers.

"How many other people know 'bout this, other than Jeannie?"

"Charles does. Perhaps Scott as well."

"Damn, does the whole flippin' mansion know?"

Hank chuckled and sipped his drink. "No. Not that I know of. But you know what a curious bunch we are. It won't take long for questions to circulate."

Wolverine dug his thumb into the side of his glass. "Chuck and Red get into her brain to confirm it?"

Hank's lip quirked. "I don't think so. There are only so many ways that a non-telepath, like Nada, can reach out to someone like Jean, or Charles. One of those ways is if she had been trained to contact them beforehand."

"Like in another time."

"Or another dimension," Hank said. He rose to refill his glass. "As in Nada's case."

Wolverine sighed and twirled his glass. "She ain't from another dimension, Hank. She's from ours."

"How do you know?"

Wolverine tasted the drink on his lips and enjoyed the brief tingle before the sensation disappeared. "I never really discussed this with anybody, 'cause it wasn't anybody's business 'til now. But I figured out why all these time travelers got me so edgy. They don't smell right."

Hank sipped his drink, frowning. "Come again?"

"They're...different, Hank. I dunno. I can't describe it." He downed the drink in his hands, considered another, and changed his mind. "They got a 'smell' about 'em that ain't quite in sync with the rest of us. A weird odor that I can't place. Took me a while to understand what the scent meant, and that got me real edgy around 'em for a while. Damn near took Bish's head off a couple times."

"I know," Hank said, grinning. He finished his drink and placed it on the coffee table. "I wish I'd had ringside seats."

Wolverine chuckled. "Yeah, well, once I got it down, it made sense. Bish, Rachel, an' the rest all have that 'outta sync' scent, so I know they're from alternate timelines."

Beast swallowed at the pause. "And...you—you're saying Nada..."

"I'm sayin' Nada don't have that scent. She's got other scents I can't place, but those are from places she visited—or will visit, I guess. But her core scent...It's like ours. She's from our universe. She will be my child."

"Oh, dear," Beast said. He got up from the chair and went to the drinks cabinet for a refill. "That rather complicates matters, doesn't it?"

"Maybe. Maybe not."

"Well, of course it does. You and Storm certainly haven't been—"

He stopped suddenly at Wolverine's chuckle.

"Oh...my...stars and garters."

Hank downed his drink as Wolverine grinned wickedly. "Like I said, we figured out some things last night."

"Yes...Well. Ahem."

"Ah, c'mon, Hank. We're adults. We knew what we were doin.' It ain't like we're two star-struck kids runnin' 'round the mansion with ragin' hormones."

Hank, still in shock, filled his glass to the rim. "You. And Storm? Ororo?"

Wolverine growled. "Why not?"

"Well, my friend, she...well, she doesn't seem the type to go for someone like—"

"She rode me hard and put me away wet."

Hank's jaw dropped. He couldn't think of anything to say. Instead he finished the drink in his hands and fumbled around for another. "Fine...fine. Ah, sure."

"You want more details?"

"NO! I mean...No, no. That's entirely your affair...entirely."

Beast decided to take the whiskey out of the cabinet and place it on the coffee table. Wolverine chuckled. "We were havin' a little fun. That's all. It probably won't go anywhere."

"You sure?" Beast's voice had become a little slurred. "Just fun? She may want more, you know."

"I know. I'm thinkin' about that possibility."

"Well, think harder."

Wolverine looked amused.

"Seriously! The woman's love life has been an absolute shambles. If you don't treat her any better than the other men in her life then, on my honor as a gentleman, I will be forced into an altercation with you." He finished his drink. "And believe me, I'm the last person who wants to see that."

"Yeah, well. I ain't inta shreddin' Cookie Monster, either."

"It's Grover, thank you," Beast muttered. He lay back sloppily in his chair and Wolverine smirked to himself, wondering if he had the strength to carry a drunk Beast back to his room. "Cookie Monster is so...déclassé."

"Okay, whatever. But I ain't gonna hurt 'Ro. That's the last thing on my mind right now."

"Better be."

Wolverine's smile faded. "Has Nada talked yet?"

"Not a peep. The child is decidedly mum. She's fine now—she could get out of bed, walk around the grounds and do a jig, if she wanted. But she's not doing a blessed thing but sulk."

"Has she even got out of the damn bed?"

"Nope. But you would have known that, had you come visit her. Like everyone else has around here." Beast tossed down another drink, and blinked at the half-empty decanter. "My, my, Wolverine. You must stop drinking all of Charles' liquor. He doesn't take too kindly to that, you know."

Wolverine ignored him and got out from his seat, scowling.

"And where are you headed now?"

"I'm gonna do what me and 'Ro shoulda done when she got here. We've been too cowardly to confront this thing head on. Time ta change that."

"Good. 'Bout time someone took charge." Hank yawned grandly, and Wolverine heard the doctor's gentle snores behind him, even before he left the room.

VIII

Jean, in her own stubborn way, had a point, but the way she was going about it was both wrong and dangerous. The child needed a stabilizing influence, and perhaps his time had come to provide it. He didn't want to intrude upon Nada's mind; her secrets were more than a little alarming and worse, he saw himself in some of her memories. Fortunately, Jean did not. But now he felt he had to intrude, to prevent her secrets from tumbling to the surface.

<Nada.>

Go away.

Charles sighed, recognizing his own mental shields in her mind.

<Child, I must insist...>

Nada projected a red monster with jagged teeth. Fuck you. That clear enough, Chuck?

Despite her brusqueness, Xavier smiled a little to himself. The response was all too familiar—perhaps even expected, considering her father.

He felt her barrier weaken, but she was still stubborn.

Don't intrude where you're not wanted. My mind is a dangerous place and you've already seen too much.

He felt her sigh. My body is almost ready...I can feel it. A few days, maybe less, and you won't have to worry about what you saw. In fact, I'll bet money that you won't even remember my name. I'll be a dream...perhaps a gleam in my father's eye.

She laughed, but the sound was harsh. Jean was right; her mental grip was slipping. She needed a release of some sort, and soon. Charles frowned, wondering of the repercussions if she did not. Would they all cease to exist? Or would they exist elsewhere...or elsewhen?

<Nada, for the last time--if you'll let us, we can help you. If not—>

--If not, I'll help myself.

<No, Nada.>

Charles, I've made my decision. I'll end this, if I have to. It's time. Time....How's that for irony?

Her giggle became manic as he pulled out of her mind. His heart sank at her implications, but her choice was hers alone. Part of her decision relieved him. He felt relieved that he wouldn't have to deal with the issues, if she decided for herself.

God help us, all.

* * *

"A Shi'ar teenager? C'mon. That's stupid."

"Well, she got d'hair for it, don't she? What d'you t'inks d'story, if you so smart, neh?"

Bobby shrugged, and adjusted his cards. The smoky poker table was filled with the minority of X-Men who weren't on edge or ready to take people's heads off. "Seems to me," he grunted, talking around the thick cigar in his mouth, "that somebody's seen her before."

"Like when, Drake? Did someone accidentally 'forget' that she fell from the sky last Tuesday?"

Bobby sneered at Warren. "Think about it, feather duster. Look what's been happenin' the past few days. Pins and needles, people flaking out. Ororo doesn't look like she's slept since she got here."

"So? Stormy's concerned. Ain't a crime." Gambit slapped the side of Bobby's head. "Snap out of it. Stuff like dat go on all da time. You t'ink you Monsieur Hercule Poirot, or somet'in?"

"Who?"

Remy grimaced. "Nevah mind, boy. You ain't got no culture. Whose turn is it?"

"Boys, boys," Warren said calmly. He had an evil leer on his face. "We're X-Men, right? If we want the truth, there are ways of getting it."

Remy fanned his face with his cards "Whoo, Angel-man. You dat bored? You willin' to face d'wrath o' Stormy?"

"She won't find out. But we will."

"Uh, huh." Remy threw out a poker chip, and it bounced into the pot. "I' believe dat when I see it."

"Well, let's make it worth our while, shall we? Loser of the next hand has to find out the truth."

"That's not fair!" Bobby hissed. "I haven't won a hand, yet."

A slow smile spread across Remy's face. The vision he had of Warren sneaking around the mansion, pretending to be the king of stealth, was too good to pass up.

"I'm in on dat deal. Drake?"

Bobby sighed miserably. "Hell, why not. It ain't like we've got anything better to do, until Magneto breaks down the door."

* * *

"Nada. Get up."

"Fuck off."

She was shivering, but she had balls. He had to give her that. "Dammit, kid, I ain't gonna mince words with you. You get up, or I'm tossin' yer nekkid butt out the window."

Storm touched Wolverine's arm, but he brushed her fingers off. He knew 'Ro meant well, but if this kid's personality was a combination of his and the weather princess, the light touch wouldn't cut it.

"Forget it, old man."

"You wanna play amazon princess? Fine. We'll play amazon princess."

"Logan, do you think—"

He glared at 'Ro, and she glared back. "Trust me. She's our kid. She ain't gonna go for mama's little speech."

Storm folded her arms. "Fine, do it your way. You would have, anyway."

He grinned and stomped over to Nada's bedside, yanking all the wires connected to her body. The machines beeped angrily, but Logan was beyond hearing them.

"Hey, what--!"

"Trust me. It's f'r yer own good." He grabbed the screaming girl, tossed her over his back, and opened the side window.

"What the hell're you doing? Put me down!"

"You gonna talk?"

"No!" He bent down and started shoving her head through the open window. She gasped, realizing she was two stories from the ground. "Yes, yes! Dammit, I'll talk. I'll talk! Just...put me inside. I'm afraid of heights!"

"I bet you are."

She trembled as he brought her in, and he got a good look at her from top to toe. Hank was right. Nada was totally their kid. She wasn't that big, just an inch or so taller than he was, but she was built like a gymnast.

"Asshole."

"Go take a shower. You stink."

"You gonna make me do that, too?"

He released his claws. "If I have to. I'm sure you've been spanked by the best, an' I'm the best at what I do."

She glared at him and was about to fight back, but he tossed a pile of clothes in her hands and shoved her into the bathroom. "An' don't come out 'til yer clean."

He chuckled after he heard the water run a while, but Storm's rage grew behind him.

"She's fine, 'Ro."

"She'll hate you when she comes out."

"Wrong. She loved every second of it. My guess is she missed it. I probably used ta do this to her all the time, while you'd sit and complain."

"Complain?" Storm jumped to her feet. "That's no way to treat a young girl, Logan! No wonder she is so defiant. You raised her like a hellion!"

"Me? There's two parts to every story, Storm. Your chapter ain't lookin' too high an' mighty, either."

"My chapter? How rich, coming from a man who thinks violence solves every ill, from world domination to the common cold!"

"Guys..."

"Heh. You think 'peace' is gonna cut it with a kid whose mama hurls lightnin' bolts, then smiles at the bad guys when they squirm?"

"Uh, Wolverine..."

"I do not smile when they squirm! What an awful thing to say! At least I don't cut them up like last year's roast!"

"Storm...?"

"Naw. You just french fry 'em. That's waaay better."

"If you think—"

Nada shattered the air with a piercing whistle between her teeth, which made Wolverine snarl.

"Dammit, do you know how freakin' loud that is?"

She nodded, grinning.

"Yes," Storm said. She folded her arms and smirked. "Definitely your child."

* * *

She was shaking, but not from cold. She could no longer pretend that this reality didn't exist, that this scenario was all a passing dream. She could no longer say that these people were not her parents, and she could no longer lock this time and moment away into the hidden part of herself that she dare not touch.

This is it. This is home. Hope had begun knocking on her door, and she hated its cheery presence.

A breeze caught Nada's short locks, and Wolverine couldn't help thinking how her hair, which was as soft as Storm's, stuck out at all sides when the wind hit it...like his. The three of them had been quiet for over an hour, content with simply walking across the grounds until she could find the words to explain how she arrived now, in the past. She had a vacant look in her eye that was disconcerting, but their walk was calming her frayed nerves. Logan felt Nada's pulse slow down with each step, until it was almost near normal..

"You…used to take me over that hill," she finally whispered. Storm and Wolverine followed her gaze, and saw the hill where they had made love the night before. "Used to point out the constellations and tell me all about other alien homeworlds."

She stopped and stared into the sky. Her low, gravelly voice was actually a good combination of his and 'Ro's. Had that smoky, sultry quality that made men wild. He wondered if he'd fought off the mutant boys for her, like a good dad would've.

"Uncle Charles showed me Lilandra's picture, and I remember squealing out the quadrant of her planet home. He was so pleased you taught me how to read and understand the stars. That knowledge really came in handy, later on."

Ororo wrapped her arms around Nada's shoulders, and the girl shuddered.

"Nada. Please, for our peace of mind, help us understand what has happened. None of this makes any sense to us, and we must know how to proceed. We may inadvertently say or do the wrong thing if we have nothing on which to base our experiences."

She pursed her lips and nodded. "I know. I've already made a mistake by staying at the mansion. Beast got my DNA print and fingered me as your child, so now I've created yet another alternate timeline."

Wolverine shook his head. "You're not in an alternate timeline, kid. Yer just too early, that's all."

Storm's shocked eyes snapped up, but he kept talking. "We're the real deal. In about..." He checked her over and twirled her around. "...20 years or so, we'll be staring at'cha, and you'll look exactly the same. We'll laugh over this li'l incident like nothin' happened."

Nada worked her jaw and walked quickly away from them. No, don't say that. Don't even let me hope--please, no. Leave me alone...

Wolverine figured she'd had lots of practice holding back the tears, but she was dangerously close to shedding them now. She sat in a dry patch of grass. They followed and sat on either side of her.

"My powers, D...Wolverine. They manifested late. I was about nineteen. A late bloomer."

"Probably due to yer healing factor. Does a number on the metabolism."

She had 'Ro's shy smile. "Probably. I started disappearing around the mansion, popping in and out at weird times for a few seconds at a time. It happened so fast that people didn't know what was going on. Less than a second elapsed before the time I disappeared and the time I came back, and I was always in the same place. We only really found out about it when one time I popped back in, wearing a different shirt than I had on five seconds ago."

"So you're a teleporter?"

"Sort of. But I don't really pop in and out of space."

"Time," Ororo whispered. "You manipulate time?"

Nada smiled. "You're getting warmer. When the power first manifested, Uncle Charles and Uncle Kurt decided to work with me on some simple teleportation methods, thinking it could help control what I did and when I did it."

Wolverine grunted. "Did it work?"

"For a year." She sighed and played with a blade of grass under her fingers. "I couldn't take anyone with me, but I could bring things back. I was able to visit alien homeworlds and bring back tools, batteries, information—whatever. Hank and Uncle Charles loved it. I could retrieve items without them having to send the X-Men off to get them."

"Like a freakin' science fiction transporter."

Nada laughed out loud. "That's exactly what you said when they started taking me out of my classes to get stuff for them. They didn't think it would matter, since in respect I didn't lose any time."

Ororo touched her hand. "So what happened after a year, Nada?"

Her throat twitched. "I don't know. I suddenly went haywire. My powers grew to some kind of exponential level, and I began dimensional skipping—"

"Dimensional skipping?"

"Sorry. That's what I call it. I'd focus on one place, but I'd end up somewhere else. Then I couldn't control when I came back. I'd be gone for a few seconds one time, a month the next. One time you two didn't see me for almost two years."

"I must have been frantic," Storm whispered.

Nada touched her cheek. "I'll spare the details of the hell you guys went through. Maybe, now that I've told you...Well. We'll just have to see."

"So, what's the story now? You in the middle of gettin' back to us, or what?"

She grit her teeth. "No. I 'went Omega' a few days before my twenty-second birthday. I've been out of control, unable to stop, jumping in and out of thousands of scenarios, dimensions, and times."

"I'm so sorry," Ororo said, hugging her tightly.

"I—I was in a...bad place last time. I was dying, and I had to 'will' myself home, somehow. I overtaxed my system, but I thought I made it when I saw Uncle Hank. I screwed up. I didn't make it...I—"

Nada couldn't help herself. Her body convulsed with sobs. She clung to Ororo for dear life and screamed into her shirt. "Oh, God...God, I just want to go home! I want to go home...I want my home...I want...I—Mom...Daddy--!"

Ororo cradled her head and stroked her hair, and rocked her gently. Wolverine covered them both, but he didn't know what to say. They had to get her back. Chuck had to help her, and make it stick.

"Must she wear that horrid thing?"

"I'm afraid so, Ororo," Hank muttered. "Either that, or we risk losing her. Her power is quite unpredictable and I'd rather have some method of controlling it, for the time being. Even if it is...horrific."

He frowned as he brought the Genoshian collar close to his nose, and adjusted his spectacles to get a closer view of his minute adjustments. Ororo shifted uncomfortably on the leather sofa, scowling at the blinking collar in Hank's huge hands.

"Why not the bracelet?"

Hank peered over the collar and sighed. "I told you, the bracelet is too powerful. Nada's body can't fight the intense radiation it generates. Now please, let me finish this."

Nada glanced nervously around the room, wondering if anyone's face seemed encouraging. Aunt Jean sat to her left and hugged her too tightly. Her mother, who sat on her right, curled her fingers into a tight ball. Thunder rumbled in the distance. Uncle Charles' eyes glittered dangerously. And her father...well. He leaned against the library door like a soldier on patrol. He had crossed his arms and lit a cigar, to keep from becoming too angry, and everyone else was too upset to tell him to stop smoking.

"We needed to make a few minor adjustments, to make sure the collar was running on the correct frequency. The higher the cycle, the more leth—ah."

A sharp "snap" echoed through the walls, and Nada jumped. Ororo took her hand and squeezed it.

<It'll be okay,> Jean projected. <It's temporary.>

Nada knew it, but she didn't like it. In a few other alternate realities the humans put the collars on mutants, and then hunted them for sport. This felt like the same thing.

Uncle Hank sighed and stared sadly at her over his bifocals. His eyes were red, and it didn't look as if he'd combed his fur—it stuck out in odd angles against his body. But she trusted him...Had trusted him all her life, before the jumps.

"I'm really quite sorry about this, Nada. None of us—"

"I know." She grimaced and stared at her shaking hands. But she surprised them all by standing suddenly and lifting her chin. "But there's no other choice, is there?"

"If there were, I would have chosen it," Hank said softly. He placed his fuzzy hands around her throat, as if affixing a diamond pendant. She didn't have time to jump at the second "snap" as the collar tightened around her neck. Her knees gave out, and Hank caught her before she fell to the ground.

"Easy," he said gently. Ororo ran to Nada's opposite side, but Hank already scooped her in his huge arms, cradling her close.

Jean scooted from the couch to make room. Hank lay Nada down as gently as a china doll, and propped her head with a pillow.

"Don't like it," she whispered. "Feel weak..."

"I know." Hank took her wrist, checked her pulse, and made a few more adjustments to the collar. He nodded grimly. "The side effects should go away in a while. Your metabolism should compensate in a few hours."

"She can't goddamn move," Wolverine muttered. "What the hell good is that?"

"Patience, Wolverine," Xavier said. "Hank knows what he's doing."

"Uh, huh. That's what Rogue thought, too."

Ororo shot him a look, but Wolverine turned his head. "It's a shitty way to live."

"It's her only chance," Ororo said softly. She grabbed a chair and sat next to Nada, stroking her dark locks.

"Tired..."

Beast flashed Nada one of his patented smiles. "It's okay, you can rest, now. We'll be here when you wake up. I promise." Her face softened. She was asleep before she saw his face turn to stone.

"Spill it," Wolverine growled. The room felt considerably smaller, but he hadn't moved from the wall. "You've all been hidin' stuff from 'Ro and me ever since this shit started. You level with us, or I'll start carvin' my initials inta some expensive lab equipment."

Ororo's eyes narrowed. "Is this true? Have you hidden the truth from us?"

Jean's face fell. "I wanted—"

"What Jean wanted to say," Charles interrupted, "is that we cannot treat Nada like an 'ordinary' mutant. She doesn't realize that her gifts affect more than simply herself."

Jean scowled but didn't retort.

"Chuck, when the hell have any of our gifts simply affected us? Fuck that. We both know—"

"Logan, please," Ororo sighed.

Wolverine worked his jaw, but kept quiet. Charles glimpsed at both Ororo and Logan as he caught the subtle emotional shift between his two X-Men. "Wolverine, Storm. I understand your concerns, but as an Omega mutant, we must be careful. Nada is different. We must treat her differently than the rest of the students."

Storm's fist tightened. "We cannot keep her corralled like some...some cattle. She is a child, a human being. And I thought we dispensed with the judgments, long ago." A crack of thunder rattled the library windows. "I refuse to put Nada in some special category simply because her gifts are greater than my own."

"That's not what I meant, Ororo."

"Then what did you mean, Charles?" Her eyes flashed. "That Nada deserves to be in exile because she cannot control herself? Deserves to be away from her family? That she is somehow less deserving of our care, or our trust?"

"Of course not." Jean placed a hand on Ororo's shoulder and glared at Charles. "She's no less deserving than the rest of us. And we shouldn't treat her any differently because we're afraid of what she may or may not do."

Hank cleared his throat. "I concur, Jean. However, I think it would strongly help the situation if Charles and I explain what we've pieced together about Nada."

"You could tell me she's sproutin' an extra head an' I wouldn't think worse of her."

Hank's lip quirked. "I assure you, friend Wolverine, that she's not growing an additional head. Nada does have a problem, however. A problem in addition to her dimensional shifting process."

"Which is?"

"I have been charting her brain wave activity. When she first arrived, she had an extreme amount of hypothalamic brain activity. I attributed this to her healing factor, of course. But upon greater study, I discovered that her limbic system was similarly affected, as was her thalamus and lateral ventricle—"

"Goddammit, Hank, say it in fuckin' English."

Hank rubbed the bridge of his nose. "What I am trying to explain—rather badly, I suppose—is that Nada's body and her brain radiate a type of 'distortion' field. Call it a stasis leak, if you wish. In any case, my theory is that her feelings and her will, if not properly harnessed, have a strong chance of affecting our universe."

Ororo went over to Hank. Her eyes were both furious and sad. "So her environment changes to suit her emotional state?"

"To a degree, yes. Perhaps not as strong as an all-out warping of time, but she does have an extremely strong ability to 'suggest' things into her environment."

"And," Charles said, rubbing his eyes, "without the proper mental shielding, her 'feelings' can subtly change the way we act, think, or conduct business."

"So we keep the collar on 'er until we can fix the problem and send her back. So?"

Hank glanced at Charles grimly, who continued speaking. "I wish it were that easy, Logan. First, we all know that she can't wear the collar indefinitely. Her brain may be strong, but she possesses a relatively "human" body. She will die if she wears the Genoshian collar too long. Second, because of her mental strength, her body will learn to 'reject' the collar's influence over her. We would gradually have to increase its canceling strength over her powers. Considering all the data Hank provided, I think we have a day at most to try this alternative."

Wolverine caught Charles' subtle pause. "Go on."

Xavier sighed. "Hank has been monitoring Nada's power. She temporarily burned out her abilities with both the poisoning, and with her strong desire to come home. But she's charging up at an exceedingly strong rate. I have no doubt, once her body is fully capable, that her power will 'warp' our universe upon her exit. As to how badly, I'm not sure."

The room became still. "There must be a cure," Ororo said, breaking the silence. Her voice quivered. "You can work with her, Charles...Help her create better mental shields, or—"

Charles snorted. "In two days, Ororo? I couldn't teach her the basics in two weeks."

"But you will try, for Nada's sake, will you not?"

He shook his head. "Ororo—"

Snikt. Wolverine slammed his claws into Xavier's desk. "You heard the lady, Chuck. A chance is all she's askin'. An' it's amazin' what you can do, when yer under pressure." Shlakt.

Professor Xavier's voice became cold. "Are you threatening me, Wolverine?"

Logan went to the couch, took Nada in his arms, and headed for the door. "If I have to."

Ororo didn't say a word, and she didn't have to. The look on her face told the others that she agreed with Wolverine's assessment. She opened the door for him, and the two left without another word.

"Well," Charles said, after they left. "What do you think?"

"I think they're right," Jean said. "And you two are out of line."

She left the room and slammed the door for the second time that day.

"Charles," Hank sighed, gathering his papers from the desk, "if I were you, I'd learn to brush up on those basics in a hurry."

* * *

She had heard the murmurs in the back of her mind and felt her father's warm hands coddle her close to his chest. Daddy...I love you, Daddy. Will you sing the Rubber Tree song--?

Stop.

Her reason sliced into her thoughts with its ugly fury. This man is not your father. Those are not your aunts and uncles. Not yet. And if you screw it up, they never will be. You will kill them.

"Wolv—"

"Shhh. G'back to sleep, darlin'. I gotcha."

She fought for consciousness. She only had enough strength for one outburst and had just enough courage to last a short time. Tomorrow would be too late.

"Dad," she croaked, using the name for the first time. His face melted, and he listened. "Where's Mom?"

"Fixin' ya somethin' to eat. She figures you'll be starvin' in a few hours."

She swallowed. "Listen to me. I heard...Heard you arguing."

His body stiffened. "They'll find a way, Nada."

"And if they don't? I could kill you. This reality would—"

"Hush, darlin'."

She clung to his shirt and whispered. Her voice was weakening, but he knew his sensitive ears would catch every last word. "Dad, if it doesn't work, I'm dead anyway. We're all dead. Do what you have to do to save yourselves...Promise me!"

His growl made her cry.

"I know you'll do what you have to do, Daddy. I know..."

Her body, lost in the exertion of communication, won its fight for sleep. She saw her father's pain and sorrow, but the unspoken code hung between them. He kept his promises. He'd keep this one as well.

What--? Crap. Should've thought about the exit before—

"Remy, what the hell are you doing in Hank's office?"

He'd been around the mansion for so long, that he had turned everyone's steps into simple background noise. His alarm had rung, but his ears turned it off. He'd stumbled on his first pivotal law: Know Thy Environment. Remy made a face. You gettin' soft, LeBeau. "Uh, I lost a poker hand?"

"Why do I find that so hard to believe?"

"Prob'ly 'cause it's d'truth," he muttered. His hands delicately fingered the special lock on Beast's filing cabinet. "An' I could be askin' you d'same t'ing, Summers."

"Me? I'm...ah, well—Jean's health. She has a headache. I'm getting some aspirin."

"Uh, huh. In Hank's office." Remy winced at the way he turned the lock. Damn, now he had to start all over again. "Howcum I don't b'lieve dat?"

"Fine, fine. We're both down here for the same reason: Hank's records on Nada. We're both too curious for our own damn good."

"Yeah, well," Remy groused, "I still los' dat poker game. Stupid two-a spades."

Scott watched him finger the lock, and shook his head, reaching for it. "Here, let me fiddle with i—"

"Stop it, neh!" Remy slapped his fingers away. "I built dis t'ing. I know how it works. An' sometimes I out do m'self. Like now."

Scott sucked his fingers. "Looks like a regular lock to me."

Remy smiled. "T'anks. One-a my best jobs."

He set the knob carefully to the right and winced at the slight click. "Ah, hah. Almost dere...Right! Jackpot."

The lock fell onto the floor, and the drawer slid open by itself. "Now you may have d'pleasure, good man."

"Everything's under lock and key in this place," Scott muttered, rifling through the manila folders.

"Gotta be. Dere's t'ief's everywhere...So? What's de story?"

Scott pulled out the slimmest folder in the drawer. "This has to be it. It's not marked, and it's skinner than the rest."

"Well, don't stan' dere gawkin' at it. What's it say?"

"Hold your horses," he muttered, opening it. "There's a lot of technical jargon here. Looks like...whoa, she's an Omega class mutant. Not too shabby."

"Not too," Remy agreed. He began reading over Scott's shoulder. "Look. Dere's her latest DNA test. Beast did some scribblin' underneath it. Damn, he's a doctor, all right. Too hard t'read dat man's chicken scrawl, 'specially sideways."

"Yeah, yeah, I'll get to that in a second...She's not a telepath." He scowled. "How do you suppose she contacted Jean?"

Remy shrugged, but he wasn't paying much attention to Scott. He shifted the paper, trying to decipher Hank's code.

"Wait, Remy...this other part's in the Professor's handwriting."

"Uh, huh...D—DNA? Can't tell if he wrote DNA or STP..." He stabbed the document. "Dat look like DNA to you?"

Scott ignored him and kept talking. "Professor Xavier thinks she causes rips in the time continuum, which causes her funny photoelectric display in the sky. Kind of like time 'backwash'. Let's see what else he's got here...Multi-dimensional causality matrices...Consequential analyses...highly suggestive yet progressive continuum dominance...Extensive probability consequences...Sheesh, this stuff's totally over my head."

"Sacre bleu," Remy whispered. He suddenly looked up and stared into space. "Uh, homme..."

"Yeah?" Scott was too fascinated with the papers to see Remy's face. The information that he could understand was incredible. Her molecular makeup was fantastic.

"Uh...read dat chicken scrawl, an' tell me if it say what I t'ink it say."

"What? Oh, all right." Scott squinted at it. It looked like Braille. "Child's DNA...I...Iden...Identical match...Parents...Parents are—"

He stopped dead.

"Well?"

Scott Summers could only think of one word to sum up what he saw.

"Shit."

* * *

Ororo couldn't move from the recliner. She hated not knowing what to do. Her strength had always been in correctly assessing difficult situations and choosing the appropriate people for the appropriate jobs, and she knew how to make tough situations work when options were slim. But now she had to assess her own skills, and she had trouble judging her merit. There was too much at stake, and unfortunately she understood both sides all too well. Had she made a mistake? Was she going to? Could she even afford to second-guess herself? She massaged her shoulders, but her fingers were too numb to do any good.

The library door creaked slightly; Ororo smiled.

"She asleep?"

"Yes." She rolled her shoulders and winced at the pain. "I doubt she will awaken, however. From what Henry said, she has not slept well since she arrived. This might be her first real night of sleep."

Wolverine came behind her chair. She smiled faintly at the rough hands smoothing the taut muscles in her neck.

"Yer neck's as stiff as One-Eye's spine."

"Mmm...You cannot imagine how good your hands feel, Logan."

Ororo expected him to make a veiled sexual comment. She knew something was up when he didn't.

"Would you like to go for another walk?"

He grunted.

At least that's something, she thought. "What is wrong?"

He took a while to speak. "I don't like complications."

"Nor do I, old friend," she sighed. "This whole day...Things did not go well."

"Yeah, and it's gonna get a helluva lot worse." Wolverine took a chair and slid up beside her. On a whim, she checked her pulse, and realized he was right. Her heart beat much to fast in his presence. She would have to rectify that.

Her face softened, seeing the deep lines in his brow. She ran her fingers over his cheek. "Perhaps. We have both been under a tremendous amount of strain lately."

She swallowed as his sad, dark eyes met hers. "Do you love me enough to trust me, 'Ro?"

"Of course I trust—"

He shook his head and stared at the floor. "Nah. I mean really trust me. I'm asking you to trust me more than you've ever trusted me before."

"I've trusted you with my heart," she said softly. "When you captured my heart, you also captured my total trust."

Her words didn't soothe his brow. He rose from the chair and flexed his fists as if ready to attack. "Do you trust this reality, 'Ro? I do. This is the real thing. Everything that's happened is meant to happen. I know it is."

"If you trust it, then I—"

"No!" He whirled around, startling her. "I need you to trust it with me, not 'cause I said so. That no matter what happens, this is what's supposed ta be. Ah, hell. I ain't makin' sense."

Ororo sighed. She rose from her chair and grabbed his clenched fist, and rubbed her smooth fingers against the rough, calloused ridges of his knuckles. "Nada has the power to change history. Our past, our present, our future—all of it may change, because of her. Yes, I understand that. And yes," she said, catching the wildness in his eye, "I fear it as well. But now is now. If I concerned myself with what might be or what could be, I would go mad. So I will settle for what I have now. I have no choice."

He grabbed her hand and squeezed it too tightly. "She wasn't the one who 'willed' you and I together, 'Ro. Trust me on this one."

"I—"

Ororo's voice caught, and Logan spun her around. "Dammit, you don't trust me. You'd rather take the easy route with this one, and pretend it'll all go away when Nada disappears. You wanna play us up like some goddamn fairytale."

"You are not being fair, Logan."

"No, you're the one not bein' fair. You ain't willin' to trust me, because you don't wanna get hurt. You're goin' all 'goddess' on me because you'd rather face this alone and deal with it on yer own terms."

Hail pattered the roof. "Logan, we're better off with the 'wait and see' approach. You know this, and I know this. I want it to work...I want us to work."

"But."

"But," she echoed, "Nada is our first priority. She must go home safely, and we must find a way to protect this universe at the same time. I cannot allow myself to—"

He grabbed her, knocked her legs out from under her, and bent her over backward to kiss her. She struggled, but he held on and didn't let go until she wrapped her hands around his neck.

Logan whispered in her ear. "Yeah, I'm scared. But Nada don't have all the answers. Neither do you." He brought her back to her feet. She swayed a little, from both the loss of blood and the heady kiss.

Ororo wiped her lips cautiously. She was angry with herself for responding to Logan's kiss and angry that she enjoyed it. "She knows her powers, Wolverine."

"She's not around after the fact. How does she know what happens? How can any of us know?"

Ororo didn't have an answer. Logan went to the closet and found a blanket on the top shelf, and locked all of the library doors.

"Logan, what in the world—"

"You gonna start trustin' me for real, or not?"

She shut up. He drew the blinds and unplugged the phone, the intercom, and the fax machine. "I think you got it right, 'Ro: We've got today. We've got now. And we've got here."

Her jaw dropped as he started taking off his clothes. "Logan, are you mad? This is the library! Students come here—"

"Yeah, and they'll keep comin' here." His boot dropped to the floor. "So?"

"This is disrespectful. What you want to do is...is—"

"What, sacrilegious? It's the library, 'Ro. Not the Vatican. Besides, this is a training exercise."

She cocked her eyebrow at him as he removed his pants. "Really."

"Yep. I'm teachin' ya how to think outside the box."

He lifted her sweater over her head and kissed her bra strap. "I bet that by tomorrow, you'll come up with a solution."

She folded her arms. "And if I don't?"

He winked at her. "Then you'll get a good look at my famous money-back guarantee."

The slim cigarette danced between his thin fingers as he watched the girl in the gym. Judo slam into the ribs...Wolverine. Right elbow into the bag at eye level...Storm. Right hook...Wolverine. Leg sweep...Storm. Their moves, her body—lethal, but graceful.

Figures.

He took another drag off his cigarette. Nada couldn't see him behind the two-way glass, but he wondered if she "felt" he was there, kind of like Wolverine "felt" someone was around without seeing them. She didn't have her father's instincts, but damn if she didn't glance over at the mirror every so often and stare straight into his eyes.

He frowned again and watched as she arced over the pommel horse like an angel in flight, scream a loud "Kee-yai!" and kick the gym horse over with her foot. Child of the X-Men or no, she looked like one dangerous customer. Hopefully she was on their side.

"I never pegged you for the voyeur type, Remy."

Remy blew a slow cloud of smoke through his nostrils but didn't turn around. Before she had spoken he knew she was peeking over his shoulder. "We t'ief's pride ourselves on it, Stormy. Gotta watch the prey to play."

"Sounds like something Wolverine would say."

Remy sniffed at that. "Maybe he and I ain't so far 'part as you t'ink, Stormy."

"I doubt that. And don't—"

"'—call me Stormy,' I know," Remy finished. He flicked the cigarette onto the floor and ground it out beneath his boot. "Tell me somet'in I don't know, eh? 'Course, if you trusted me more, maybe y'would."

Ororo sighed. "It wasn't any of your business, Remy."

"Really?" He smirked and pulled another cigarette out of his shirt pocket. "Thought we was one big happy fam'ly, an' all that. All for one, an' one for all."

She frowned at the cigarette, but this wasn't the time to chide him about his bad habits. Ororo put her hand on his shoulder, but he still wouldn't turn. "We are family, Remy. But I...Wolverine and I had to think some things through first. We could not let Nada's heritage become some sort of sideshow carnival. Nada—and for that matter, Wolverine and I— did not need a whole lot of prying eyes and ears until the truth was understood."

"So you hid it from us."

"We hid it, yes," Storm echoed. "But for a good reason. For Nada's safety."

And yours? Remy thought, but he didn't say it. As he lit his cigarette, he wondered about the deep pang of jealousy inside him. He didn't like it, and he didn't understand why it showed up now. He had the love of his life already. But Stormy...Well, she'd been his first love, deep inside. He felt like a father giving away his daughter's hand in marriage.

He grimaced, ground out his new cigarette, and turned to her. "She's your spittin' image, Stormy. Yours and the Wolfman's. Even got your moves. And his."

"Really?"

She glanced over Remy's shoulder and smiled a little as Nada preformed a short kata. Storm's eyes twinkled mischievously. "Nada is very talented."

"No kiddin.' All dat good talent, whooo...Gets it from her mama, that's fo' sure."

Remy was grinning when Ororo turned to watch Nada, but she missed the odd, quiet sadness in his eyes.

He cleared his throat. "He treatin' you right?"

"Sorry?" Ororo's eyes were on Nada. She laughed a little, recognizing her daughter's high kick as her own.

"The Wolvster. Can't deny dat chemistry—it's plain as day."

Ororo glanced at him shyly. "I am happy, Remy. It surprises me, but yes. I am very happy."

"You t'ink dis gonna be some kinda permanent situation?"

"You are too nosy." She sighed and folded her arms. "I am uncertain. Things change. Still...I will enjoy myself as long as it lasts."

Remy smiled sadly and shrugged. "Well, out of all of us you deserve somethin' in the love department. Somethin' good, for a change."

He kissed her on the cheek. "Good luck, Stormy."

"Thank you, Remy," she whispered, and watched him leave from the corner of her eye. They could have been more than friends—certainly much more. But the crush she once had for Remy had blossomed long ago into kinship. Her heart ached for him, since he was and always would be the brother she never had.

And Nada the daughter she never knew.

"Which is about to change," Ororo said, sighing.

She folded her arms and watched Nada, partly from admiration and partly from fear. After an...intense experience with Logan in the library, she had convinced Wolverine to follow her into her attic room, where her shyness at their new relationship set off yet another round of lovemaking. Her body had hungered for sleep after their passions cooled, but as she traced a slim finger across the folds of her sheets, her mind kept darting from one scenario to another.

"C'mon, 'Ro," Logan had said. His warm breath tickled her earlobe as she nestled into the crook of his arm. "Try an' get some shut-eye. If not, you'll be a walkin' wreck, and I ain't in the mood to catch the holy hell from that."

"Soon, Logan." She snuggled tighter into his warm body, but he wasn't appeased.

"All right," he grumbled. He wrapped his bare arms around her belly and hugged her tightly. He kissed her ear. "What's the deal?"

"I—I don't know," Ororo faltered. She unconsciously laced her fingers through the thick hair of his arm. "I suppose I'm a little concerned about tomorrow. That's all."

"You talk to her yet?"

"Hm?"

Logan sighed. "Turn around."

She did, but her long hair hid her torn expression. Wolverine had studied her looks. Her calm facade was simply that—a facade—and he knew she was hiding her true feelings behind a mask of cold indifference.

He brushed back her platinum strands. "Yep," he chuckled. "You two can pretend like the best of 'em."

She propped her head on her elbow and lifted a slim eyebrow. "Which means?"

"You know exactly what I mean. You've done it fer years, and you're still doin' it." He shrugged. "Nada's got my temper, but she uses it to keep people away, not to let off steam. 'Cept for that temper, she's a helluva lot like you."

Heat rose to Ororo's face but her voice remained glacier still. "In what way?"

Logan eyes glittered like two black diamonds, piercing her heart. She had to turn away and pretend that her own fingers were more important than his hard gaze.

"I said it before, and I still mean it. You keep everyone at arms length so they won't hurt ya. Me, I don't care. I'll wear ya down. You can count on it."

She smiled slightly at that, and his rough finger traced the line of her lips. "But Nada don't have that 'luxury,' and you shouldn't put 'er through your hoops. You can't keep her at arms length, like yer own personal lap dog."

She angrily turned her back on him. "I care about Nada. I care what happens to her."

"Yeah, you do. In a way." He rubbed his thumb between her dark shoulder blades. "But you've gotta talk to her. Show her you mean it."

His fingers became more insistent, and she felt her body unexpectedly responding to his touch. "Love's a two-way street, Ororo. I know you. I know that when you really start caring back, you let people inta your world. You get honest about yourself, an' you finally let down yer 'goddess' guard. Nada needs the real you. Not high an' mighty goddess. You willin' to do that?"

She swallowed and stared up at the skylight. The moon was full. Its light sparkled beneath the tears on her cheek, but her voice was steady and firm. "I honestly do not know, Logan."

Logan rolled onto his back, closing his eyes. "Let Nada in, 'Ro," he grumbled. "She needs you as much as you need her."

She needs you as much as you need her...

The question disturbed her and hung, unwavering, in her mind. She nibbled her lip and turned on her stomach. She was uncertain, but she knew Logan was right. She had to follow his lead, trusting that this reality was their reality to come, trusting in a faith she did not personally feel. Ororo sighed and traced her finger across Logan's cheek. His eyes were still shut but he smiled at her, and kissed her fingers.

Sighing, she pulled back the bedcovers and grabbed her robe.

"Where're you headed?"

"To take your advice."

She glanced at Logan, who smiled at her sleepily. "That's a first."

"So don't get too comfortable with it."

She caressed his cheek again and kissed him full on the mouth. Her mind was still veiled in the shock, but she was getting used to this man. Very used to him.

He grasped her hand and kissed it. "Hurry back."

Ororo had nodded, slipped from his grasp, and left for Nada's room, only to discover that the child was not in her room. At first she feared the girl had left the mansion, but the idea struck her: If she were in Nada's place, and unable to rest, where would she go?

"Heee—yah!"

Ororo's lip quirked as Nada's yell awakened her from her reverie. She put a trembling hand on the gym door, and forced her face into its calm, unreadable mask—but for the first time, she feared that her emotional control might slip and betray her true thoughts.

* * *

Nada felt her mother's presence before she entered the room, and she couldn't help shivering a little. The collar around her neck felt more like a donkey's yoke around her shoulders, and she felt like a prized ass, too. Stupid girl. She should've taken a walk outside. Anything to avoid—

"You're very good."

She licked her lips and wiped the sweat from her forehead with the back of her hand. "Thanks...Ororo. Guess I learned from the best, huh?"

"Probably." The older woman grunted and righted the pommel horse. "You're strong, too."

Nada laughed bitterly. "Only when I'm mad." She glanced at Ororo and sat back against the gym equipment. "Nothing supernatural or mutational about that. Just a bad temper."

"Ah. I understand."

Do you? Nada's mind shot angrily. But out loud, she sighed. "This has been one hell of a day."

"Indeed." Storm sat on the pommel horse and patted the empty spot beside her. Nada glanced at it warily, but joined her after a small shrug of protest and faced the opposite way from Ororo. But Storm made sure their backs touched.

"You should be resting."

"Too tired to sleep, I guess. And dimensional jumping's like bad jet lag. Maybe that's why I'm such a head case."

Ororo didn't say anything, and Nada almost wished she could see her face. Sometimes her attempts at humor weren't very funny. She wasn't sure if she'd made Storm upset with her flippant tongue.

"Nada..." Storm's voice felt suddenly real, and it sent a shudder through Nada's body. "I'm sorry we haven't had more time to talk. I've treated you more like a sick...lapdog than a human being. Certainly not like my own child."

"Hey, well," Nada began quickly. "No skin off my brown nose. It's not like you know me, or anything. Or—"

"Don't," Storm said simply. She reached behind her back, and covered Nada's trembling fingers with her own. Oh, God, don't touch me, I won't be able to bear it...Don't do this, Mom, please...

"If you stop pretending with me, I will stop pretending with you. Is that fair?"

"Um..."

Ororo turned around, watching the girl's shoulders convulse. She wrapped her arms around her body and cradled her close, and didn't try to stop the tears from her own eyes.

"You're my child," Ororo whispered into her ear, over and over. "I am your mother. I love you. I love you, Nada."

They cried each other to sleep, and an hour later a short, brutish man turned off the gym lights and tossed a blanket over the two of them. As he left the room, his whiskered face held a small smile of satisfaction.

XII

Wolverine rubbed the sleep from his eyes, but didn't expect anyone else up at this hour. It surprised him when he saw a dim glow spilling beneath Charles' door, and two voices—one Professor Xavier's, one Hank McCoy's—shuffled in low tones through the door's eaves.

The voices suddenly stopped short. Then, after a pause, one voice spoke a little louder: "Wolverine. Could you join us, please?"

A small growl rose in Logan's throat.

"I know, I apologize, Logan. I shouldn't have pried. But I didn't have time for niceties."

Logan narrowed his eyes and pushed back the door with a firm fist. "What is it, Chuck? I ain't in the mood for games."

"This is no game."

Charles and Hank looked at him with thinly veiled excitement in their eyes. Both of them were wearing their strongest spectacles while they hovered beneath a small desk. A long list of technical words and brain diagrams burned into an adjacent wood-paneled wall from an overhead projector, and books and papers scattered the office floor as if a small tornado upended the room. Colored flimsies and clear transparencies lay wherever the papers weren't. Logan couldn't remember seeing Charles' office in such a bad state.

"What's the matter? Doin' some redecoratin'?"

"Something like that. Please, find a place to sit."

"If you can," Hank amended, chuckling. He swept a mound of dot matrix printouts onto the floor with a blue paw, revealing a chair.

As Wolverine sat, both Hank and Charles went back to whatever it was they were staring at under the desk lamp. To Logan, it looked like part of a plastic brain.

"Why's it so damn dark in here?"

"Hm?" Charles said absently. He stabbed at the mock-up with his pen, and Beast nodded. A slow, steady grin spread across the furry mutant's features. "Sorry, Logan. It became too much of a bother to turn the lights on and off while we studied the overheads. It became easier just to leave the lights off.

"It's incredible, Hank. And entirely possible."

"What is?" Logan yawned and rubbed his eyes. He'd been up for practically three days straight, and no healing factor could make up for a lack of sleep. "Lissen, if you two're gonna go on about some tech shit, leave me outta it. I need at least a few hours of shut-eye if—"

"Oh, you'll want to hear this."

The way Hank said those words and the way Charles smiled—like a father about to have his first kid—suddenly brought him to full alertness.

"This about Nada?"

Charles nodded slowly. "We may have found an answer. She may have a fighting chance to stop this."

Wolverine let out a long sigh. "She'll be able to go home, without any trouble?"

The scientists exchanged glances and their faces fell a little. "Possibly," Hank finally said. "How this will ultimately affect her would take months of study."

"You said she has days."

"Not even that long," Hank said with a sigh. "Hours, if we really want to get down to it."

"So what the hell are you so—"

"Wait," Charles said, holding up a hand. "We cannot predict how it will affect her outcome, but we can control the damage she will do on this side of our universe. Hopefully we will be able to control it long enough for her 'jump,' and perhaps the change will be permanent."

Wolverine fought to control his animal side. His anger was just below the surface due to sleep deprivation, and he didn't want to go off half-cocked unless he had to. But they all heard the frustration and anger in his voice.

"Pardon me if I ain't jumpin' for joy, Chuck, but it sounds like all you're tryin' ta do is save your ass, and hang Nada's out to dry."

Again Charles and Hank exchanged glances, and it was all Logan could do to stop himself from kicking the desk over.

"Friend," Hank said softly. "It would take months—perhaps even years—to truly understand the effects of our tamperings on Nada's timeline—"

"I told you," Wolverine interrupted darkly, "this is her timeline. We screw with her, we screw with us."

"Be that as it may, we can't predict with any accuracy what will ultimately happen."

"However," Charles interrupted, coming from the other side of the desk. He placed his hand on Wolverine's shoulder and smiled as warmly as he could, but Wolverine wasn't about to buy the nice guy act. "We have a pretty good idea of how we might."

"Go on."

"It's really quite incredible," Hank began excitedly. "Naturally, Nada's entire body chemistry runs somewhat higher than our own, due to her Omega status. But one part of her is completely off the charts—and it's absolutely in conflict with the rest of her body. I ran the tests several times to be sure that this situation wasn't part of her natural mutations. I've concluded that it's definitely not in sync with her natural brain chemistry."

Wolverine's eyes narrowed. "What're you sayin'? Plain English, Hank."

The blue mutant smirked. "I'll try... Nada's final growth spurt happened around the same time her mutation came upon the scene. Coupled with the mutant healing factor she received from your genes, her pituitary gland became—well, in plain English, hyper-inflamed. It began a...'poisoning' of sorts of all her metabolic functions. Normally, the natural growth process would have a measured surge of hormonal activity before finally leveling off. But apparently her healing factor sees the excesses as an 'infection.' It wants to heal the fluctuation, but her body is fighting her healing factor's process—rejecting it, even. It's that fight—between hormonal imbalance and healing factor— that causes her powers to go out of control."

"Huh. Bigger pain in the ass than usual."

"Quite," Hank said. "But at least we know the cause. Now we're working on the cure."

"Then you can give 'er some pills or somethin' to level her off?"

"I wish," Hank muttered. "But from what little I know of her system, her body would reject my meddling outright and bigger fluctuations would result. Pills will only exasperate the problem."

Wolverine's look darkened. "If you fed her enough of 'em it could override her healing factor for a while."

"I thought about that," Hank said quietly. "But I don't know what an overdose would do to her. That, and I don't know how much of the drug would constitute an outright success. I wouldn't have any room for error. I doubt I'd kill her, but her powers could possibly kill us."

"Then what're you planning? Surgery?"

Hank glanced at Charles.

"Surgery, yes, but not in the way you're thinking," Charles said. "Neither of us are brain specialists. We don't have enough time to find the correct surgeon, and Nada doesn't have the time to wait. As Hank said, we have mere hours. Not even days. And even if we found a surgeon today, this sort of procedure has never been successful. No one would know how to perform it."

"Then what?"

"Hank and I believe that—with Jean's help—we can work together to 'shut down' part of her mind." At Wolverine's look of cold fury, Charles shook his head. "No. It's not what you're thinking. We're only trying to bring a sort of balance to Nada's body chemistry. It's not a lobotomy—it's a new form of surgery."

"Mental surgery. Sorta what you did to Magneto, Chuck? You gonna shut Nada off like that? Cute. Real cute."

"You misunderstand me, Logan." Charles rubbed his eyes. "Please don't compare what I had to do with Magnus with what Henry and I are planning. We believe that the three of us together can mentally alter the route of her neurotransmitters, in effect constricting the output of her pituitary gland. With Hank's medical knowledge, Jean's telekinesis, and my mental augmentation we could create a mental 'blockage' that would, in effect, redirect the neuro-chemicals causing the damage."

Wolverine shook his head. "That sounds too damn dangerous. You're gonna mess with her head physically. You three make a mistake, any mistake, and you could kill her."

Hank swallowed. "True. There's always a risk in any kind of surgery. This included. Perhaps even more so."

"Yeah, I'll bet." Logan rose and flexed his hands to calm the creeping fury inside him. "Jeannie said it, all right: a 'damned lab experiment.' You don't really care what happens to her, do ya? She's just meat to mess around with. Some new fuckin' toy."

"Now, Logan, please. You aren't being fair. We haven't tested our theories, but—"

"Goddamn it, Hank, she ain't gonna be yer guinea pig!" Wolverine's claws slid from his hands. "You fuckin' find another way that won't screw her up or turn her into a vegetable."

Growling, he headed for the door. On the way out he stabbed through a stack of books and flung them across the room. The momentum of it knocked over the overhead projector and plunged the room into an unsettling dimness.

He stood with his back to them in front of the door, and his body trembled from holding back the rage. "She ain't yer lab rat," he murmured. Then he left the room.

XIII

"Logan..."

The light touch on his shoulder was enough to wake him. He looked disheveled and full of the devil, but his bestial fury only served to heighten her attraction to him.

"Shit," he muttered. He winced and rolled his shoulder with an audible pop. "What the hell time is it?"

"Nearly eight."

He spat another oath and rubbed his face. The kitchen was suspiciously devoid of activity, which probably meant that the rest of the mansion had caught Wolverine's nap on the table and wisely thought it best not to awaken the sleeping bear.

Ororo glanced at his untouched coffee mug on the table, watching the lingering steam vapors curl to the top. The kitchen makes a poor substitute for a bed, she thought with a frown.

"Have you been brooding here all night?"

"No."

She smirked, believing his still-warm coffee mug told her otherwise. "Then why is your coffee still warm?"

"Because I dozed off," he growled. "And because I'm too damn tired to drag my ass to bed."

Ororo hid her smile and lightly squeezed his shoulder. He absently cupped his hand around her fingers as if grabbing hold of a lifeline.

"Thank you for the blanket, Logan."

He shrugged. "Couldn't have the mansion thinkin' you two had a slugfest now, could I?"

"I suppose not." She dipped her head in front of him to kiss his cheek, and her long strands brushed his face. "And you were right, Nada and I are very much alike. After we awoke we spent a few moments together, simply talking."

"What about?"

Ororo laughed. Logan was surprised at how good the sound made him feel.

"About you."

"Huh. Figures."

He turned his head slightly and caught the lines in her face, imagining that she had to be just as tired as he was, if not more so. But she still looked as if she'd just stepped from a Vogue photo shoot.

"You should sleep," she said softly. She slid across from him and took his mug tentatively in her slim fingers.

"Speak fer yerself. I'm the one with the healing factor, not you."

"And yet, you still need sleep. Imagine that."

She smiled and sipped from his mug delicately.

Damn, Wolverine thought. She even makes drinkin' coffee look sexy.

"What are you thinking about?"

"That I need more coffee," he grumbled. He got up and stretched out his legs, and grabbed the coffee pot off the counter. "Where's Nada?"

"Taking a shower. I thought she needed to rest for a while longer—she seems so incredibly tired. Much more so than yesterday. But she is very stubborn."

"Yeah, like her mama," Wolverine grunted.

"I suppose."

He dumped a few teaspoons of sugar into a new mug and doused it with coffee. "She'd better not get that collar wet. Hank'd have 'er hide."

"Probably. You know, he and the Professor looked rather pleased about something this morning."

Wolverine stopped stirring his coffee and stared into his mug. He didn't face her. "Yeah? They say anything to ya?"

"No. They just looked very secretive and excited. And they want to see us in an hour—I believe they may have found something that can help Nada."

"Excited, huh?"

Wolverine purposely kept his voice flat but Storm caught the concern in his voice. "What is it?"

He glowered into his mug but made his way back to the table. Even though he wasn't looking at her he still felt her eyes burrowing into his skull.

"You know something about this. Please tell me."

"They found somethin' all right." He sipped his coffee and winced at the brief sting of heat. "They think they may've found a 'cure.' "

"Well, is that not good news?"

"I dunno, 'Ro. Maybe you'd better let Chuck tell it to ya. Sounded like a pretty raw deal to me."

"No."

His eyes shot up at the dangerous power in her voice. She wasn't in the mood to be messed with either, and her tone told him that he'd better give it to her straight and in a hurry. "I want to hear your concerns, Logan, before I hear it from them."

Logan's brow furrowed as his heavy hands cupped around his hot mug. "They've done tests on 'er and from what I figured out they think she's got some kinda...'short circuit' in her skull. Her body's hormone's're fightin' against her healing factor, which makes it impossible for her to control her powers. They're thinkin' of goin' into her skull and repairin' the damage, mentally. A regular surgeon can't do it."

Ororo frowned. "They intend to alter her natural body chemistry via psychic bond?"

"Somethin' like that, I guess. To me, it just sounds complicated and risky." He gulped his coffee and grit his teeth. "I gave 'em an earful of what I thought about their 'idea.' "

"What are some of your personal reservations?"

"That they ain't never tried it," he said, tossing back the rest of his coffee. "That no matter how brainy they are they ain't surgeons—not even close. That they're dickin' around with that kid's head like she's the next Nobel Prize."

"Like another experiment," Ororo said softly. Logan could smell the rage coming from her in thick waves, though her expression barely changed.

"That's how I see it, yeah."

Her eyes narrowed coldly. "They must find another alternative. Their unorthodoxed methods could kill her."

"And us, but they don't seem to be listenin' to that part. Too 'excited.' "

"Then we shall make them listen."

Storm was rising from the table when she caught Nada's hidden form in the doorway.

"Nada, child, how long have you—"

"Long enough," she snapped. Her face outwardly showed the pent-up rage Ororo hid from the world. "How dare you two decide this for me."

Ororo went over to her. Nada's hair was barely damp from the shower, but her face was drenched and hot.

"Nada, what they propose—"

"What they propose," she interrupted, "may save your scrawny necks. It might be our only means of survival. They...they're only trying...to do what's best—"

Her legs buckled a little, and she gripped the doorway for support. Immediately Ororo grabbed her other arm and placed it over her own shoulders to help support her. She felt Nada's forehead just as Logan rushed over to them.

"What's wrong? What's the matter?"

"She's burning up with fever," Ororo said, biting her lip. "We need to get her to the infirmary."

"I'm fine," Nada whispered, trying to bat away Wolverine's arm. "Just...just tired."

"Tired, my ass."

Wolverine scooped the girl into his arms and hustled from the room with Ororo close behind. "Is it the collar?"

Wolverine didn't say anything but they both understood—the time to act had come, and they had exhausted all other options.

XIV

"She's gonna be okay."

The woman's hand stopped Ororo in mid-pace. She had pulled herself up to her full regal height and the glares she gave the room told its occupants that she wasn't pleased to have them as an audience. It was the first time in twenty minutes that anyone in the waiting room dared speak. Secretly, however, Ororo was grateful they stayed.

"Thank you, Rogue," Ororo said. Her shoulders relaxed a little.

"You two don't have t'go t'rough dis alone," Remy said gently. "We all care 'bout de petite."

Ororo's jaw stiffened and she glared at Remy. "So everyone knows?"

"Don't blame the swamp rat," Rogue said. "You know nothin' stays secret 'round here for long. If one of us is hurt, the rest of us're there to pick up the slack."

"All f'r one, an' one f'r all," Remy said. He came around to Ororo's other side and squeezed her shoulder gently.

"Besides, he didn't spill the beans," Scott grumbled. "I did."

Off of Ororo's surprised look, Scott shifted uncomfortably in his chair. "Well, Warren cornered me, and Bobby wouldn't let it drop—"

"And you know what a big blabbermouth Bobby is," Betsy said, folding her arms.

"Hey, I resemble that remark," Bobby countered. "But seriously...Well, you know us, boss. It's corny and stupid, but we're all like one big happy family. Nada's our child, too."

"Huh." Warren Worthington flexed his wings. "The 'cube's got a heart after all. All this time I thought he was pure mouth."

"At least I don't look like Woody Woodpecker on steroids," Bobby said, throwing a magazine at Worthington.

A small smile tested the corners of Ororo's mouth. They were all trying to lighten the mood, to keep her mind off of the situation, and their banter temporarily helped.

Still...she slowly walked from the comforting circle of her friends and comrades, and peered through the small gap that served as the ER window. She frowned, watching a small group huddle around Nada, as if the child were little more than a zoo exhibit.

Be fair, Ororo, she said to herself, and hugged her sides. She didn't like this new game Wolverine had put her in, this game of trust and acceptance. She felt raw and exposed, and she wondered if everyone could see through her facade. Trusting Wolverine meant giving up control, and after so many years of trusting herself...trusting Forge...it felt dangerous to allow such sensitive feelings float to the surface. She wasn't quite sure how to deal with them all. It's time to feel again, her mind said. And Ororo was both thrilled and frightened at the possibility. Yes, it was true. She had fallen deeply in love with Logan. She truly hoped he felt the same.

Upon feeling and hearing her lover's name in her mind, her eyes focused back into the small ER. Hank had wanted as few people around Nada as possible, but Wolverine had refused to leave, and he threatened everyone with bodily harm if they dared say otherwise. Storm had wanted to stay as well, but Hank had argued her back to the waiting room with the stern instructions: Keep Out. Not wanting to distract him from his work Ororo let it go, and only Hank, the Professor, Jean, and Logan remained.

I should have fought to stay, she thought bitterly. She didn't like the new plastic tubes and twisted wires weaving such a web around her child. Such things were foreign to a child born of the wind and the earth.

Goddess...her child. Ororo shook her head. The words "her child" came easy to her now, and her mind, body, and spirit rejoiced at the revelation. Truly Nada was hers—hers and Logan's—and the idea excited her. He had not given physical birth to her, but it felt as if she had. She didn't want to give her up. She wanted to know her more, to walk with her, to learn from her—and to teach her. The idea of losing Nada now, after just realizing how special and important she was, was nearly too much for Ororo to take. She couldn't leave her. Not now. It was too soon.

Jean suddenly looked up from the ER table with a small smile. <Don't worry, 'Ro. She's doing fine. She's a fighter...just like her parents.>

<Thank you, Jean.> Ororo thought back. <Please keep me appraised of any changes.>

Jean's smiled quirked a little. Only Jean knew that Ororo's stiff words were a cover for the depth of emotions churning beneath. <You'll know it as soon as we do.>

"C'mon, sugah," Rogue sighed, guiding Ororo back to a chair. "You're gonna give yerself a neckache lookin' through that little window. No use gettin' all worked up about it now. There's plenty of time for that later."

"And that is a good thing?"

Rogue smiled playfully, but Ororo was half-serious. Her heart ached mercilessly. How much more pain could it take? But as she took a careful survey of the room and the love within, and the encouraging, friendly faces around her, she realized that she could think of no better friends to help her through it.

* * *

"Dammit, Hank—"

"Quiet, Wolverine!" Hank barked. "Not another word. We're working as quickly as possible."

Wolverine growled dangerously, but he understood Hanks' pressure. Didn't make the wait any less easy. A small part of him wanted to gut the doctor if anything went wrong.

Hank worked fast, but Nada had been unconscious from the time they placed her shivering form on the table. Her temperature had only gone down a little, and her blood pressure had plummeted like a stone.

"Jean--vitals?"

Jean's face twitched. "They aren't falling as fast anymore, but they're not exactly stable, either."

Hank hissed sharply between his teeth. "We need someone who can read those numbers. What I wouldn't do for a good ER nurse!"

"Hank, I'm doing the best—"

"I know, Jean, I know...Never mind. It's a tense time for all of us. Is her blood pressure stable, at least?"

"Yes."

"Good. Thank you. I'll watch her readings for the next few minutes. If her readings remain fairly steady, we'll take the collar off."

Wolverine continued pacing in his small corner of the room. He never liked seeing his own friends get hurt in battle, and this situation felt even harder to digest. The sense of not being able to do anything but watch frustrated him. And, as he saw Nada's distressed form on the cold Med. Lab table, today felt worse than any combat situation. Now he understood how other fathers felt, and he hated the helplessness.

He glanced at Xavier. Chuck was concentrating hard, probably to get a lock on Nada's mindset, and he despised that look. He knew what it meant—the telepath was checkin' out her brain, seeing if Nada could take the stress of his Frankenstein-like experiments. Even after he'd told him no, even after he'd seen his anger, Chuck was still going at it. Wolverine's claws itched at the surface of his knuckles. Fine, they wanted a fight. He aimed to please.

The one thing he didn't understand was Jeannie's role in it. Either she'd done a complete 180 on him or she didn't know what Hank and the Prof were planning. It meant that there was one more unknown in the equation, one segment that had been conveniently "forgotten." It meant more problems and greater miscalculations.

Not exactly smart, when you're considering brain surgery.

He didn't want to disturb Jean, but this was too important to wait. Plus, Hank and Chuck needed to know that they weren't the only kings on the chessboard.

He flexed his fists, partly to calm himself down.

Jeannie.

Jean glanced at him, somewhat shocked that he initiated the telepathic contact. Usually he didn't "call" her anymore unless it was important. And since his daughter was lying on a slab while they attempted to save her life, it must've been pretty damn important.

<Logan? If you need to know her status, she's holding up okay. But I'm too busy keeping her calm to-->

No. It's not that. He broke contact for a second, trying to find the right words, and Jean barely resisted yanking the truth from him to save time.

She raised her eyebrows and glanced cautiously at Hank. The blue doctor was wiping his hands on a towel while checking Nada's latest vital readout. She didn't dare glance at Charles, but she knew the Professor had been concentrating for a long time. Too long, actually. What was he up to? Apparently Logan knew something about the situation that Charles had blocked from her. She definitely didn't appreciate that.

<No, Wolverine. They haven't spoken with me.>

He nodded slowly, but she felt anger building in the back of his mind. They say they can help her. But they're plannin' on using you to help them alter her mind.

She was stunned, and even Wolverine caught the quiet backlash from it. <Really...How so?>

He went on to show her the conversation, from his point of view. He felt Jean's emotion rage through his mind, running the gamut from shock, to anger, to disgust. He was a little surprised at feeling waves of fear from her, too.

No kiddin'.

Both of them turned, and were suddenly surprised when Charles' calm eyes met their own.

<Jean, may I speak with you privately?>

<Are you sure?> Charles caught the bitter sarcasm in her voice. She didn't have to say anything in her mind—the evidence of her anger, and Wolverine's, was clearly on their faces.

He sighed audibly and massaged his temples. <Jean, I apologize. With all of the excitement surrounding the discovery, Hank and I didn't have time to this with you.>

An ugly growl tested Charles' patience, and Hank looked up. The blue doctor's face held an uncharacteristic hardness towards both Charles and Wolverine. Charles concentrated past the fury in Logan's mind.

<Wolverine, yes. I know you're upset. And I promise not to..."turn Jean against" you and Ororo. But I must speak with Jean. Alone.>

Logan narrowed his eyes and starting speaking, out loud. "Say whatever the hell you want, but you ain't touchin' my little girl without askin' me first. Get me?" His claws came out to emphasize his point.

Hank worked his jaw. He often caught the tail end of telepathic conversations on the verbal side, but he didn't like them very much—too disjointed. But this time, the arguments only fueled the anger within him.

"Perhaps my timing is rotten," he said sharply. "But I can't foresee a better one. Nada, for the moment, is stable, and I need to remove her collar if she's to stay stable. "I will need everyone's--" he glared at Wolverine, "--everyone's cooperation to accomplish this. I don't care who started what, or why. I don't care diddly about your arguments. But when I remove this collar Nada will need your total cooperation if she's to survive. Understood?"

The heads around the room nodded guiltily.

"Good. Thank you." Hank's jaw softened. "Now, Logan. Please bring in Storm."

"What're you gonna do, Hank?"

"This isn't the surgery, Logan, so forego any conclusions you might have on that point." Hank looked grim. He pinched his eyes between his spectacles, and Wolverine realized that the doctor probably hadn't slept much, either.

"Honestly, I'm not sure what to expect. Nada could charge up quickly, allowing for mere seconds of clarity before we can act. Or, it could take several minutes for her powers to overtake her. We don't have any way of knowing what her window of opportunity is. But whatever time Nada has, I expect that both of her parents will want to be here for the entire process."

"You got that right," Logan said, heading for the door.

Hank nodded and watched the continuing exchange of emotions running across both Charles' face and Jean's. From the looks on their faces, whatever they were saying to each other was probably left inside their minds. Anything else would probably turn his blue ears pink.

Time keeps on slipping…slipping…slipping—into the future…

Nada grimaced. Old songs from her Dad's moldy-oldie collection had wormed their way into her head, and the lyrics were too damn close to the truth. Her timestream was slipping—slipping into the present and merging with the past. The closer she came to her dimensional zero hour, the more the images flooded her. The scenes became jumbled collages of puzzle pieces and in her haze she wasn't sure what was real or not. She hated this part of dimensional skipping because there wasn't anything she could do about it, and because she couldn't touch the images. They were only memories, after all. Painful memories of what she no longer had.

Age seven: The infamous commando-leap from the monkey bars. The stunt took off half the skin on her forehead. Dizziness and tears had clouded her vision, right before her parents gathered her into their arms and flew her—literally, flew her—into Uncle Hank's perfect furry arms. She was more frightened of the horrified look on her mother's face than of the blood pouring from her scalp, and she remembered the strange twinkling stars as her brain fought to stay alert.

"Just a scratch," Hank chuckled, sewing her smartly. "A good rap on the head, but fortunately no concussion. Fortunately her head is as hard as her fathers'."

She had milked it for all it was worth, though, and got ice cream for a week.

But now...she was waking up, somewhere. Her mind couldn't make sense of the images in the crowded room. Voices streamed in and out of her head as she struggled to put the images and words together. Her heart began pumping new blood into her fuzzy mind and the old playground memories came in one chaotic rush. But she couldn't see the playground this time. Couldn't taste the ice cream, either. But the sick, hung over feeling from youth had returned with a vengeance. Loud words. She heard loud people, very loud people.

"Please stop arguing," she managed to croak. "My head hurts bad enough."

"Nada?" Storm's white locks brushed against her cheek. Nada struggled to sit up, and fought a wave of nausea. Only Storm's arm guiding her forward eased the rest of her breakfast back into her stomach.

"I'm still here. Good," she sighed. "Monkey bars got their revenge, though."

"What?"

"Never mind." She patted Storm's hand. Her mother, she noted sadly, looked about as bad as she felt.

"Drink," Hank commanded, thrusting a cold cup of water into her hands. She took it gratefully, and the doctor used the opportunity to check her pulse.

"I won't ask how you're feeling."

"Thanks," Nada grumbled. " 'Cause I doubt shit could feel this bad."

Storm frowned at her choice of words but Wolverine smirked at her. "You were in pretty bad shape, kid. For a while..." He trailed off, shrugging.

"You weren't sure if I'd make it, huh? C'mon. You know your genes better than that." She thumped her chest to emphasize the point but her smile faded as she traced the emptiness surrounding her neck. Her dark eyes met Hank's.

"When…" she touched her collarbone again. "How long has it been off?"

"Nearly two minutes," Hank said softly.

"Not much time left." She forced herself off the lab table, but Ororo had to steady her.

"Nada, you should stay seated. You—"

"No," she barked. Then, softer: "No…no. I need to walk around. Get my bearings." There was nothing they could do…it was too late. Her memory loops had begun, and so had Stage One.

Storm opened her mouth to protest but Wolverine's heavy arm gripped her mother's, gently pulling her back. Secretly Nada enjoyed the small exchange of tenderness. She drank it in, filed it; forced herself to remember it. Maybe she could take it with her.

"Let the kid walk it off, 'Ro."

"Honest, Mom. I'm just...achy. A little tired."

Storm didn't believe her, but that was okay because in a few minutes...Nada stumbled a little and Storm gave Wolverine a glare that would've driven the hounds of hell back to the darkness. She grabbed Nada again, and for once Nada didn't feel like arguing.

"Hank," Nada began evenly. She had to keep calm, regulate her breathing. Maybe her parents would miss what she meant if she kept calm. "I was collared once, for a shorter length of time. You probably have five minutes, if that much."

She made eye contact with Jean and the Professor. Jean had been trying to probe her mind all this time—trying to talk her out of it. Instead of replying, Nada shook her head.

You have to. You've got no choice, and neither do I. Good luck…

Jean's eyes began watering while she scowled at Professor Xavier, but Nada got the point across.

Not your decision, Aunt Red. You'll have to trust me.

The exchange took less than a millisecond in real time but Wolverine caught it. His growl reverberated against the metallic walls.

"Wait a damn minute—"

"The longest I took to charge," Nada interrupted, "was four and a half minutes. You've got to beat that record, or you'll jump with me and—"

Wolverine grabbed her arm. "You ain't doin' this! They don't know what the hell they're doin'. One slip—"

One slip and it won't fucking matter—!" She yanked her arm away and fell to the floor. "Dammit."

His eyes bore into his daughter's, and Nada felt dizzy. Another memory leaked into her mind, playing like a slow-motion car wreck:

# # #

"Sounds serious, Hank."

"Without surgery it is, Wolverine," Hank sighed. "At Storm's age—"

"Shit, Hank, she ain't a great-grandma!"

"I know. But without surgery, these kinds of pregnancies are extremely dangerous. And she's older now. I suggest…" He trailed off. "Storm would never go for it, of course."

Wolverine lit a cigar, and his hands shook slightly. Hank didn't scold him for it. "We've been tryin' for another kid, Hank. We've been tryin' for twenty goddamn years. This is the first time…"

"I know, Logan."

"No, you don't know. You ain't even flamin' close."

Hank put a hand on Wolverine's shoulder. "It's a common enough occurrence for women in their 40s, but most women opt for the surgery. Some even try for another child, later. But Storm…"

"Yeah. Storm. You know Storm, Hank. She gets mad if I swat a fly in the house. If there's a chance it'll work, or if it's been done before, she'll fuckin' try it. Even if it kills her." He threw the cigar against the wall and kicked Hank's desk hard enough to put a hole through it.

She had been watching them argue. She'd never seen her father so scared. "Dad…Mom's not dying, is she?"

"Goddammit!" He roared, suddenly seeing her. The strain in his voice told her he wasn't really mad at her, but he still grabbed her roughly and half-marched, half-threw her from Hank's office. His growly voice cracked. "This ain't open for discussion. Go. Get out of here. Now." She left quickly, but had to go through three dictionaries to find the phrase "ectopic pregnancy." Her power kicked in a few days later, and she disappeared for nearly two years…

# # #

Nada held her head, feeling the memory fade.

"Give us a minute, Chuck," Wolverine muttered. "You, Jean, Hank—out. I need ta talk to this brat."

"Fuck you, Dad! I don't have time t—"

He gripped her arm. It felt like a vise. "We'll make time," he growled, lifting her to her feet.

"Wolverine," Hank sighed. "She's right. We're quite pressed for time. Nada doesn't—"

"Then you'd better leave fast, huh?"

Knowing the argument was already lost, the telepaths and the doctor quietly left the room and allowed the two parents to talk with their daughter. "One minute, no more," Hank said as the door closed.

"We won't need that much," Wolverine said, still staring at his daughter.

"Mom, make him see reason. This is ridiculous."

Storm folded her arms. "I happen to think he is right."

Nada was about to whirl on them with all of her fury, but stopped in mid-stride. She couldn't stop absorbing her parents, the room, the mansion. Her body felt overwhelmed with the sensations, which she knew was simply a manifestation of the skipping process, but she couldn't help feeling that it was so much more. She was leaving and she didn't want to.

"Please," she said softly. "It's my decision. Do you really think I have a death wish?"

"Looks like it ta me, kid."

"Dad…" Her eyes lowered as she pulled out her trump card. "You promised me. You promised me."

His face crumpled. He looked as if she'd slapped him across the face. "Nada…"

"You don't like it, I know. But you've got no choice. You always keep your word."

Storm glared at the two of them and turned to the wall, furious that she had not been part of their decision. "You speak of promises, Nada. What of your promise to me, of your love? Your friendship? Does that mean so little to you?"

"Neither of you can change my mind," she whispered. "What choice have we got? You got a better plan, Mom?"

"There must be another solution," Storm said over her shoulder.

"There isn't. Not in the next three minutes. Besides...it's already too late."

Nada swayed and gripped her temples. Storm's arm came around her just as another memory wave came:

# # #

"Now listen to Auntie Rogue. Do not give her any lip, or I shall spank you."

"Yes, momma."

"Good." Her parents stayed at home and made goo-goo eyes at each other when Rogue took her to Toy City. Her parents didn't know that she knew. She was young, but Uncle Gambit told her the "truth" once...

"Yo' momma an' daddy, well, dese old folks need time t'gether. Dey need t' love on each other in de afternoons, sometimes. Keeps 'em regular."

# # #

She giggled as the memory faded.

"Nada?"

"The collar's off," she said dreamily. She couldn't help it. Part of her was already gone. This was how they collared her last time; in the last few moments, they grabbed her. "Collar's been off too long. You put it on now, and it'll kill me. You should get the others back in here."

"Nada, child--"

"Mom? Do me a favor."

"Anything."

"Hug me. Just hug me tight. I want…I want to take the memory with me."

Her vision tunneled; colors became abnormally bright. She was there, watching, from behind a half-closed door…

# # #

"I told you. I don't want her goin' to that fuckin' place."

He was wearing his favorite brown leather bomber jacket—the stained one, with a million tiny cuts. It smelled like cheap cigars and bad beer, and Mom had hated it. Hated it and loved it, because it smelled like him. He would leave it for her when he went out of town because he knew how much she missed him, and in her mind it guaranteed his return. Unfortunately, he'd had no such guarantees from her. She was Storm. She was supposed to be there for all of them… for him.

Over the months her father had become a cold, controlling stranger. His heart had hardened, because he no longer had a reason to leave his jacket for Storm. He wore the jacket like a badge of honor…or martyrdom.

"What the fuck's wrong with the mansion? What, she can't learn science here?"

"Wolverine, please. She's wanted to go for some time."

"Her power, Chuck—fuck that. She can't sit still for a few minutes, let alone a whole semester. What the hell're they gonna do to her once they find out? MIT sure as fuck ain't a mutant university."

"She wants to learn to control her powers."

"She can fuckin' do that here. What the hell we got all this equipment for?"

Charles placed his fingers on his temples and began the slow process of breaking down the argument of his most stubborn X-man. "She wants to go, Logan. She feels she can make more progress with other talented scientists…"

He went on with the oratory. They worried about her. She missed her mother desperately now—Storm had died giving birth to a stillborn infant eighteen months ago, and she never knew about it. Her powers stopped her from seeing her mother's funeral, and her father's cold change. He was so scared and so bitter, but she needed to get away. It didn't matter how—she and Dad had been arguing so much over the past few weeks that anything she said or did suddenly blew up into World War III. She had begun hating and loving him at the same time. Didn't he understand that she had to leave, to find the time to heal and to find the cure for her own emptiness?

"My family's fucked up, Chuck. So goddamned fucked. And you want to take away the only thing I've got left? She's the only family I got. I won't let you take her from me."

She turned from the door and caught the slow smolder in her father's eyes. He'd known she'd been watching all along. Oh, Dad was mad at her, all right. Especially since she'd snuck out the night before to talk to Joshua. She smiled. It had been wonderful. He'd kissed her…She touched her lips where she remembered the brief sensation—and suddenly started... Blood?

She was about to tell them her nose was bleeding. About to cry out from a sudden migraine. But as she turned, the air thickened around her and time became a slow-motion reel. Her dad was suddenly furious, suddenly hollering…suddenly feral. He sobbed. His claws had come out and he had sliced the man in the wheelchair. Gutted him.

She reached out, frightened, but her words stuck in her throat, and…the wind. The familiar wind. Her knees hit the floor. Her head swam…goddess, the pain. God, the pain…

…Uncle Charles! God, Dad…DAD! NO—

She jumped.

# # #

Nada shook her head fiercely, clearing the memory surge, but she was still shivering and crying. Storm's strong arms surrounded her shoulders and they were on the floor, like they'd been in the Danger Room. Her mother stroked her stiff, bristly hair, and she wanted to fall asleep in her arms. "I want you to stay," Storm said softly.

"You think I want to leave?" She had to focus, keep her wits around her, just one more minute. "But this isn't my home. Not yet. And if you don't let me do what I must, it never will be."

Her mother's face crumbled. Her mother the rock—her mother the ice goddess—allowed a few small tears to break her control. "Why? Why must you? I barely know you."

The desperateness in Storm's voice shocked Nada and shook her resolve. Her fingers trembled on her mother's cheek. "Please, don't, Mom. Don't make this any harder for me."

"Yeah, well, think how we feel," Wolverine mumbled.

Wolverine put a hand on her mother's shoulder. As Storm slumped into his feet, he reached down and embraced her. The vision of the two together almost became too much to handle, and another memory wanted to intrude but Nada pushed it back, hungering for this moment one, final time.

"Damn. You really get under a person's skin." Wolverine's eyes were close to misting.

"I wish it wasn't mutual. Dad—"

"I know. I wish...hell, you know what I wish."

"I know." She flinched, feeling the sharp migraine that came with Stage Two. "But like Uncle Remy said, 'you gotta play de card dat's dealt ya.' "

She curled fetal-like on the floor, and Storm broke from Wolverine's embrace, reaching for her. A strange, gentle wind circled the room, knocking a few loose papers to the floor.

"Love you, Mom," Nada whispered. Storm engulfed her child, and light tears ran into Nada's hair. "I—I'll miss you. Dad... Please get them. I can't hold it back much longer..."

"I'm on it." His voice was hoarse but he was true to his word. Seconds later, Hank, Jean, and Charles surrounded her.

"Blast," Hank said quietly. "She waited far too long. I pray we're not too late. If her body—"

"Then stop talkin' and start workin', Blue."

Hank nodded, ignoring the wrenching effect of Wolverine's raspy voice. "Come, Ororo. We need to work now."

Jean gently pried Ororo's hands away, and led her into Logan's arms. Jean and Logan exchanged a brief glance, but his face held a faraway look as he caressed Storm's hair.

<It'll be okay,> Jean sent to both of them, although her words weren't as convincing as she wanted them to be.

<This is what you want?> Jean sent to Logan.

No. But I ain't got a choice. He couldn't look her in the eye, so she joined Charles and Hank by Nada's side. Charles was telling Nada to relax and concentrate, but she was afraid. So very afraid.

Jeannie... Wolverine's "voice" faltered. Do what ya gotta do. An'...f'r the record, if—whatever—happens, it ain't yer fault.

Jean nodded, and hoped Logan didn't sense how strongly she held back her tears.

I'm ready, Uncle Charles, Nada thought.

<Good. I'm linking our minds with Hank's now. Together we will-->

Uncle Charles, Nada interrupted. He started a little, uncomfortable with the ease she had interrupting him. She must have done it a lot in her youth, he mused.

<Quickly, Nada.>

Please—you must exit my mind before I skip out. If not...I—I'll probably mind-wipe you. I don't think your conscious minds will survive, and you won't return to your time. If I skip and you're still with me...

<Understood,> Charles said after a pause. He couldn't stop projecting his fear, but he tried to minimize how he felt. <We'll try not to let that happen.>

Good, she sighed. Her mind opened to him, and his astral form sank into her mind. Then let's go.

Final Chapter: XVI

AN: When I started this, I wasn't sure if I wanted to give this a happy ending or a sad one, so you'll have to tell me if you liked how this played out. I'm a sucker for happy endings, but I love good tragedies as well--depends on my mood.

**************

"Dear God, Charles...!"

It felt like hours in her mind, but both Jean and Professor Xavier knew only seconds had passed. The astral plane had no time, but "events" were absorbed instantaneously.

"We must move quickly, Jean," he said softly. He refused to look. Another whistling noise and an explosion forced Jean to cover her head, though it wasn't real. It felt real, though. Parts of soldiers flew about them like flies, and brought Charles memories of Vietnam. Blood and gore and violence...when would the world ever stop hating?

"Was entering her mind this painful the last time?"

"More so," he said cryptically. He took Jean's hand and moved deeper into Nada's psyche. "From my estimations, she's been time-skipping for several years. The poor child's seen so much, felt so much pain..."

A flash of hot phosphorus caused him to look into the blackened sky. A child screamed. "Ignore the defenses, Jean. Focus on the physical."

"I will," she said softly. They concentrated...and--

//...//

"Took you guys long enough. C'mon, hurry."

Jean blinked. Nada's astral form stood before them in a flowing white caftan. Her dark hair had grown out, and she looked so much more like her mother. Jean's mind oriented to the scene...one of an endless desert and a clear blue sky. A single camel stood a few feet from them, and its brown form sharply contrasted against the ivory dunes.

Nada turned from them and headed towards the camel, while Charles matched her stride and walked beside her. "Your defenses are uncomfortably strong, child."

"I know. Lots of practice." She had been gazing over the horizon and her eyes suddenly snapped up. "Too many telepaths were seeing things they didn't need to."

She took the camel's reigns and carefully placed them in Charles' hands. "Have you tried contacting Hank?"

"Yes. With no success."

Her lips turned. "I was afraid of that. I don't know when to quit, do I? I'll try lowering more of my shields, but I'm not the brightest bulb in the barn right now. Meanwhile," she pointed far across the plain, and a small oasis stood in the center, "that area's your goal. I get my headaches somewhere out there. I think that water's poisoned, and your goal is to make the water potable."

"It would help, Nada, if you lowered your shields enough so we could envision your physical brain. We could work faster."

Her mouth turned. "No. You've done enough sightseeing, Uncle Charles. And in case...in case you're successful, I don't want any of my will to leak out accidentally. The less you're exposed to, the better."

She clicked her tongue, and the camel went to its knees. She helped both Jean and Charles on its back, soundly smacked the animal on its rump, and watched as it trotted towards the oasis. "Good luck," she said softly. And she was gone.

* * *

"Professor! Charles--!"

Hank ripped the stethoscope from his neck and checked the breathing of the two telepaths. It was slow and labored, but existent, thank God. He wondered from the silence if somehow, something horrible had happened. He was glad he was mistaken.

"Henry?"

"It's fine, Ororo," he said gently. "We...we just lost contact."

"Lost contact? How the hell is he supposed to do this operation without you?"

"He is a man of science, Wolverine," Hank said. He sat leadenly in a chair and pinched his nose. His eyes were shut tight. "He has enough medical knowledge, if need be."

"You're the damn doc!"

"Yes," Hank sighed. "But in this case, I think mental strength is more necessary."

He glanced up sharply as the wind in the office became a mini-tornado, and a small, plasmatic sphere grew over his desk.

It's now or never, Charles, Hank thought. He closed his eyes tight, concentrating.

* * *

"Charles...is she serious? Does she know anything about anatomy?" Jean waved her hand across the desert plains. "Does she even know outside of the vague 'it's somewhere out here'? How can we find what we're looking for?"

Charles did something that both annoyed and surprised Jean: He shrugged. Their camel loped at a snail's pace, but in reality he knew they were traveling faster than an eye blink. He "felt" that this camel was actually a neural signal, and the oasis was probably Nada's pituitary center. Things did make logical sense here, but he had to reinterpret the images into physical reality. That could slow things down later on.

"The human brain is an amazing organ," he sighed. "Nada may not know the complete truth, but her body does. This camel, for instance," he smacked the fuzzy animal, and a dust cloud rose from its rump. "It knows exactly where to go. Nada's astral form knew where her headaches were, and this astral creature is taking us to that source."

"That's supposed to make me feel better?"

He smirked. "Not really. If it helps, we're on a nerve signal headed towards her pituitary gland."

Jean raised an auburn eyebrow. "Clever."

"Very," Charles said. "Look--" he pointed around the oasis, and hundreds of small dots began appearing over the horizon. "You can see other camels coming to the oasis as new nerve signals. My guess is they will drink from the 'water' and carry the tainted information to respective areas in Nada's body."

"They're poisoning her," Jean whispered.

"Not on purpose, but yes. As Nada said, we need to make the information clean enough for her body to accept it, preferably before those distant signals reach us. If I'm right, those signals are the ones that are carrying Nada's mutant power signature. If they can bring forward the correct information to her brain, I think Nada stands a good chance of controlling her power."

"And if we can't change it?"

Charles didn't say anything. Jean suddenly wished she had Rogue's strength to fly them to the oasis. They still seemed so far away from it while the camel herd looked closer than ever before.

"Charles..."

"Yes, Jean."

"What..." she paused and looked at her slim fingers. "What did you see in Nada's mind that frightened you so? And why did she say that you saw too much?"

Charles' smile faded. He knew she'd ask, and he knew he could only hide so much from her. Even with the strongest mental barriers, the astral arena had the potential to reveal every secret and desire of the heart and mind.

"I saw my death," he said quietly. "My death, and the deaths of two family members. I...shared that experience with Nada."

Charles kept silent while Jean got over the shock. Jean had never been as deeply into Nada's mind as he and she missed the exchange, but Charles had seen it through Nada's eyes, which made the experience far more traumatic for him. Nada had tried blotting the last seconds of her final encounter in her home timestream. When she fell from the sky and he went deep into her mind, however, he couldn't stop from seeing it. She played the same scene over and over in her mind: Her mother was dead. She had a bloody nose. She had just seen her father stab her Uncle Charles. He was slumped over in his hoverchair and a thin stream of blood ran from his upper chest and down his knees and onto the blue-carpeted floor. But at the last second...she reached for him, she was too late...at the very last moment...God, Dad, DAD NO...she watched her father stab his temples with his very own claws and pull out half his brain tissue...

Charles rubbed his forehead at the memory. "It was...uncomfortable, to say the least, Jean."

"I…I'm sorry, I..." Jean whispered, visibly shaken. "You died? And...and who...?"

He looked at her coldly. "You don't really want the answer to that, do you?"

She swallowed and shook her head. No. Of course she didn't. "So...you thought that if...if Nada decided to kill herself, you'd save your life, and the lives of two other people? Was that it?"

His silence answered the question for her.

They both looked up as the camel bowed down at the oasis. Charles slid off its back and helped Jean down, but he was frowning. The camel herd in the distance had moved twice as quickly as their camel, and was far closer than he would've liked. His brow crinkled. The herd probably represented impulse nerve endings.

"Come, Jean," he said, kneeling at the spring. "With or without Henry's help, we need to change Nada's brain chemistry before those animals arrive."

She nodded and knelt beside him. From afar the water had looked clean, but on closer inspection the spring was a sticky, black, oily mess. "Charming," she muttered. "I can't sense anything, Charles. Can you?"

He closed his eyes, frowning, and small beads of sweat came from his astral brow. He had to delve beyond Nada's mindscape and superimpose her brain schematics on the pool, but he felt her defenses weaken. Intuition called to him. Something long and tenuous...something broken, floating...something missing--

"There, Jean--there. I see it. Can you move it?" Charles transmitted what his mind saw to her.

"Ugh! What is that?" Jean broke her concentration, and Charles' jaw hardened.

"We need to remove it. Can you bring it out with your telekinesis?"

"I think so. It's disgusting, Charles. It's covered in black gunk..."

She focused, and a half-rotting camel corpse floated to the surface, dripping in dark, slimy ooze. She made a face and put the dripping carcass on the other side of them. "Gross."

"That," Charles sighed, "was one of the problems. The astral equivalent of a dead nerve cell becoming a tumor." He peered over the side and concentrated, taking the astral images and piecing them together as Nada's physical brain. "Now comes the hard part."

Jean made a face at the dead camel. "That wasn't it, huh?"

"No." He glanced up sharply. Some of the new herd was only a few short yards away, and he doubted that they would finish their task before the first impulse signals came. "We need to repair the damage, and I don't have the knowledge to do this. Henry--"

--les?...There...?

Xavier slammed his eyes shut and concentrated. "I'm barely hearing you, Henry."

...know. Henry's words were painfully slow and sporadic. ...bad...here...Nada...increasing...

He shook his head. At this rate, Nada would jump before he received the information he needed. Charles cursed silently to himself. One of the camels had begun drinking from the pool.

"Charles..."

"I know, Jean. I know." He sighed and looked deep into the opaque water, again placing his knowledge against Nada's defenses. She was dropping her shields, but he wondered if it was enough, if it could be enough. How could he purify what he didn't see? What was missing? Dammit, what did he need?

A new camel trying to reach the oasis bumped the back of his legs and toppled him to his knees. He bit back a curse as another bump forced his knees into the water. He was about to drag himself up from the edge when his eye caught a small glimmer. The water was much deeper than he expected. He thought the pool bottom was covered with rocks, but perhaps... He used his mind to see deeper, seeing both astrally and physically, and--there. A grotto! A plateau of rocks far beneath the surface kept the pool stagnant and prevented it from moving into an underground cavern. They had to move the rocks. He was sure of it.

"Henry, I see the problem." He stared through the pool to assess the situation, but didn't expect Henry to respond. His mind projected the message faster than Henry could project a response. "Don't answer-just listen: You don't have much time. Get everyone out of the lab, as soon as possible. Nada's gathering speed at an astounding rate, and I don't want to risk anyone's life. I know...I know both Storm and Wolverine will want to stay, but try and convince them of the danger, won't you?"

"Charles!"

At Jean's alarm, he saw the new danger. Almost half the camels had arrived, and all were drinking the polluted water. The first few, in fact, had already risen to their knees and had begun walking in a new direction, away from the oasis.

He scowled, but knew they didn't have any time to waste. If they cleared enough of the rocks and stones below, perhaps the other nerve endings could cancel the tainted signal. He hoped so, anyway. They just had to clear the bottom before the last camel drank. If the last camel disappeared over the horizon before they could get out, Nada would jump, and they would be stuck in her mind forever.

"Jean, don't worry about the camels right now. I think I found the answer." He projected the grotto into her mind. "Do you see those rocks? Can you move them?"

She hissed slightly between her teeth. "That's not just a few. It's a small mountain down there."

"I know. But I just need you to move enough of the boulders to allow for a large enough opening. If there's clean flowing water on the other side, it can flush the toxins from this pool and bring up fresh water."

"Mighty big 'if.' There could just be an empty cavern on the other side as well. If so..." She trailed off and her lips hardened. "If so, the liquid in her mind will drain out and there won't be a way to replace it. We could destroy her endocrine system."

"She would have died either way, Jean--now, or perhaps within a few painful months. I don't see that we have a choice."

Jean chewed her lip. "I don't like not knowing what's on the other side."

"Neither do I," he sighed. His look hardened as a few more camels left the pool and new ones took their space. "But either way, Nada will jump once her impulse signals reach her brain. I'd like to give her a fighting chance."

Jean nodded slowly. "All right, then. Let's try it."

* * *

On the astral plane time felt endless--even more so, with the stress. But Jean concentrated still harder as the sweat dripped from her forehead. Her teeth clamped so hard that her jaw ached.

The last of the camels had lined up around the pool, and the first quarter had left. She wasn't sure if what they did would even matter now, but they had to try. Nada deserved that much. So did Logan and Ororo.

"Crap...Move!"

She was running out of energy, and that thought alone scared her. She'd have to come out of Nada's mind soon. She didn't think she could stay much longer. Feeling her struggle, Charles put a gentle hand on her shoulder.

"Jean...it's all right."

"No, it's not!" She dropped on one knee and her hands closed into tight fists. "Now move, dammit, move!"

Logan and Ororo. Yes, they belonged together, and she'd always known it. In the beginning she had been jealous because she saw it in both of their minds. She had fought against it, trying to have both her lusts and her loves met, and her petty jealousies almost destroyed the two people she cared about most. But she matured, and grew. She understood the value of a deeper, lasting relationship and fell in love with Scott all over again. That kind of love, that kind of tenderness and strength, was something only Scott could provide. She knew that the same strong bond existed between Ororo and Logan, whether those two stubborn pack mules wanted to admit to it or not. They deserved to be together, and they deserved a courageous, vibrant, and stubborn child like Nada.

//klisssh.//

She gasped. Did she imagine it?

"Jean--"

She shook Charles loose. "No, something moved, I know it did! Give me one more try, Charles."

He didn't say anything, but nodded. She looked like crap. And if she put all her effort into this, Charles would have to help her out of Nada's mind. She'd have one hell of a hangover if she could do it, but it would be worth every aspirin.

She grunted, and finally took in a large lungful of air. With a string of expletives that would make Logan cringe, she pushed all of her remaining energy at the rocks.

Krrrrrrr-aahhhhAAAAAACKKKK

"Ooohh...think I broke something there." She swayed, ready to collapse on the hot sand, and Xavier held her arm. She looked warily into his eyes, and he was smiling.

"Look at it, Jean."

She glanced at the water. The black ooze had begun fading and a new spring of fresh, pristine water came to take its place. Despite her exhaustion she smiled back. "It's beautiful, Charles. But...is it enough?"

His grin faded. More than half the herd had drunk the bad water. But the animals that were left...he watched them drink from the refreshed spring, watching how they shook the dustiness from their pelts and how their eyes suddenly sparked with life.

"I don't know. I hope so. The rest is up to Nada."

Jean nodded and licked her lips. She felt so tired, and the sand looked so warm...

"Let's get you out of here, shall we?" An astral trapdoor appeared on a dune, and Charles led her to it. Jean groped for it gratefully, but her eyes traveled across the strange expression on his face. "Don't worry, I'm right behind you. I just want to say good-bye."

Jean nodded, understanding. "Say good-bye for me too, Charles. And don't take too long."

"I won't. I need enough time to clear Henry's lab, don't I?"

Jean would have chuckled if she weren't so damned tired.

"Go. Get out of here," he said softly.

* * *

As soon as he saw Jean safely through, Charles concentrated, and Nada's astral form swam into view.

"Thank you, Professor," she whispered. She smiled and glanced into the pool. "Knew you two could pull it off. I know it's working, I can feel it. But...you should leave now."

Charles watched the woman before him, imagining what she would be like in his mansion. Imagining, he thought with a small smirk, what kind of havoc she'd wreak upon an unsuspecting mutant public. Wolverine. Poor Wolverine. Yes, his flesh and blood daughter was a fitting penance--or would be, if she survived.

He marveled at the last camel, watching as it slowly rose to begin its loping trek across the desert dunes. "You have quite an imagination, Nada." He smiled sadly. "Jean wanted to tell you goodbye. We repaired what we could, but we don't know how well it worked. I hope it's enough."

Nada stared at the sand and laced her fingers sadly. "I know. But maybe...maybe it's for the best. If I actually do end up home, what do I have? My parents are dead...You're dead. I have nothing."

Charles took her hands carefully, and he shared her sadness. She didn't cry, but her sorrow lay heavy on his heart. "Some of your family is still alive, I trust?"

She nodded, but didn't look up.

"Then go to them. Mourn together, and remember the happier times."

"I don't want to leave, Uncle Charles." Her tears did fall, now. "Dammit. I wish I could stay. I wish I could control this stupid ass-backward shit."

He touched her cheek and glanced at the horizon. The camel was nearly out of range, and a deep, rumbling hum vibrated through the white dunes beneath his feet. Charles lifted her chin. "Perhaps we succeeded, Nada. You need to concentrate, however. More than you've ever concentrated before. Do you understand?"

"I understand. I just wish..." She swallowed and angrily wiped her face. "I wish someone would remember me, just once, y'know? Once this timestream straightens out, I'm dead to you." She peeked over her shoulder, and suddenly started. "Crap, it's almost too late--you have to go. Leave now."

He nodded and headed for the "exit." She closed her eyes, and right before he saw her for the last time, his thoughts echoed through her mind:

* * * * *

--HOME!

SCRREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE--

* * * * *

"Hustle up, Remy! Man, you got lead in your butt, or what?"

"What the hell you doin,' man?" Warren shouted. "Throw the damn ball!"

Remy blinked. The leaden feeling suddenly ended as quietly as a summer rain, leaving him dazed and lightheaded. What the hell just happened? Huh. One more t'ing for de Prof, if I ain't a basket case already.

"Warren, you lucky I don't explode dis t'ing," he growled, throwing the ball to their third baseman. "It ruined my nap."

Warren didn't say anything. He was too busy trying to tag Ororo, who barely got passed him.

"C'mon, Storm!" Rogue yelled. The southerner was already at home plate, waving wildly. "You can do it!"

Warren made eye contact with Logan, who nodded briefly. Storm saw the exchange and narrowed her eyes. They are trying to force me out, she thought, and ran faster towards home plate.

Jean tagged home with a slight smile. "Missed me," she said pertly.

"Wasn't aimin' for ya, darlin'," Logan grumbled. His eyes were fixed on the one woman who could make the game even, and he wasn't about to let that happen.

Warren threw the ball to Logan, who caught it deftly.

"Run back, Storm, run!"

She backpedaled to third, and saw the little grin on Logan's face that told her he had her right where he wanted her. Logan threw the ball hard, and Warren caught it. He narrowed her running gap, and so did Logan. They had begun to play cat and mouse with her. She always hated that game.

"Give up, Stormy. You ain't goin' nowhere."

She ran towards Logan, eyes burning, and the ball hit his mitt with a thwap. She backpedaled again, staring into his playful eyes, and her mouth was set in a grim line. "And you? You dare call me by that accursed name? You wait. I shall--"

"--you 'shall' get out," Warren laughed behind her, catching Logan's throw. He took one step closer to her, and she ran back to Logan.

"Nowhere to run, babe."

A sarcastic smirk tickled her lips. Very well. If they are taking me down, I will go down fighting.

Logan was about to catch Warren's pitch, and he looked overly confident with himself. Ororo thought of the one thing to catch Logan off guard, but would she have the guts to do it? She watched his powerfully strong arms, his wickedly tight leg muscles, his sinfully delicious smirk--

It only took two seconds: One to decide, the other to do the deed.

"What the flamin' heck?"

He did a double take, and the ball bounced off his chest. He didn't lose much momentum, though, as Ororo flew past him. Just as she touched the base he tackled her--light enough so his bones wouldn't accidentally smash her spine, but enough to take her down. They were both laughing as she tried crawling towards the base while he grabbed hold of her legs.

"This ain't tackle football!" Rogue spat. "What kinda move was that? It wasn't fair! She already touched the base!"

"Ask 'Ro who's playing fair," Logan said to Ororo. His eyes sparkled at her, and his voice lowered until it was barely a rumble. "Flashin' me...now that ain't very nice."

Ororo's faint smile threatened to turn into a full grin. "The women tied the game, did they not?"

Logan glanced around. The men were yelling at each other, Jean and Rogue were eyeing them suspiciously, but...

"Luckily no one else saw yer stunt but me. Otherwise they'd be callin' you out."

"Am I...out?" Her voice purred. He suddenly caught the double meaning in her voice, and began thinking thoughts about her he hadn't thought about in a long time. And judging by her scent, she was feeling the same way about him.

He cleared his throat. He could take this further. Press his luck. See if she'd back out this time, like usual. He rose to his feet and helped her up. "No. You ain't out, darlin'. But you ain't made it to first base, either."

"Well. Perhaps we should amend that small detail. Feel like trying for a homerun?" Her blue eyes teased him, and he felt himself drowning in them. When did he all of a sudden have a thing for 'Ro, and she him? But there was no mistaking that playful...lustful gleam in her eye. God help him, he was falling for it.

He began stripping off his baseball gear. "I'm headed back inside f'r a beer. Want one?"

"Actually, I was rather looking forward to a shower."

"A shower?" His eyebrow quirked.

Ororo did grin, now.

"Heyyy--!" Jean called as the two X-Men left the field. "Where the heck are you two going? We still have another inning left!"

"Yeah," Warren said. "'Course, if the women want to forfeit--"

"Not on yah life!" Rogue growled. "We can beat y'all with one hand tied..."

Logan and Ororo had stopped listening. Somehow--whether fate or divine timing or Cupid's arrow--the feeling had hit them like a semi-truck over roadkill. Neither understood why it decided to show up now but as they raced to the showers playing impromptu strip poker, they weren't going to question it. If something happened, great. If not...well, a little fun never hurt, did it?

They were just surprised that it had taken both of them this long to figure it out.

Epilogue.

"Sis...earth to sis. Ohhh, no, you're not getting out of it that easily. Mom said if you skipped out one more time during dish duty, you'd have to clean my room for a week."

The phase-in shocked her, and five porcelain dishes tumbled from her hands. A boy, maybe sixteen or younger, had quick enough reflexes to catch them before they hit the floor. "Whoa, M'iki. You okay?"

She blinked. It...worked? It worked! Hot damn...it had to have worked! The image tumbled into her mind. She knew this boy. She had known him for fifteen years. The memories began knitting themselves back together, pushing out the intruder memories that no longer applied.

"Ch-Charley?"

"The one and only." He smiled at her with her mother's quiet half-smirk, and she stared at him from head to toe. His hair was a mass of soft, unruly, dark waves, and he had a quiet, rumbling voice that still cracked, due to growing pains. He shared his father's eyes and lips but had his mother's height and lankiness--always did, always would.

She couldn't contain the giddy feeling that her younger brother was here, in the kitchen, in the flesh, so she just hugged the stuffing out of him. Surprised, he staggered back, but accepted his sister's grace. It was better than getting punched in the gut, anyway.

He patted her tentatively. "C'mon, M'iki 'lizabeth, you're scaring me."

She grinned, poking him. "And I hate it when you call me that! I hate it!"

"Y-yeah," he said slowly. "Don't look so cheerful about it, either. You're getting creepy."

She began pacing the kitchen excitedly. "Your middle name is Remy--"

"--which I hate," he grumbled, putting the dishes in the sink. He headed out, towards the dinner table in the other room, and his voice cracked around the corner.

"Mom, M'iki's out of it again."

"--and you were born seven years after me," she continued. She barely noticed that he'd left her. "But you were born without the X-gene. You call me Super-freak, and I call you Border-norm!" Her pacing slowed and she looked up, shocked:

# # #

Logan glared at the tiny pink pill skeptically. "This li'l sucker's supposed ta do the job, huh?"

Hank grinned. "I bet my next Nobel Prize on it."

"Huh." Logan grunted and glanced at his wife and 6-year-old daughter. 'Ro was practically jumping out of her seat to eat the damn thing, and he had to stop himself from laughing. She reminded him of a porpoise waiting for a fish at Sea World.

"Think we should try it, 'Ro?"

"Please." He chuckled as she slipped her hands around his waist. "We could start working on it tonight."

"Woman, yer gonna wear me out."

"That is the idea, Logan. You would have died long ago without that blessed healing factor."

He smirked, and watched as Hank's skin beneath his fur tinged scarlet. "Think we've embarrassed the doc enough?"

"Yes," Hank snapped. "Now go away and do your procreating in the privacy of your own bedroom. Honestly..."

Ororo smiled sweetly and kissed Hank's fuzzy cheek. "Thank you for all your research, Henry. Without you--"

He held up a hand. "You can thank Charles for that. He did the preliminary research, he contacted the fellowship committee, and he introduced me to Dr. Swanson." Hank rocked on his heels. "I will enjoy sharing the rewards with Dr. Bill Swanson, however."

"And so you shall," Ororo said. "As well as becoming an uncle for the second time."

He smiled, but his face turned serious. "We can't promise that you will conceive, Ororo. This will just set up the correct conditions for your mutant physiognomy. I understand your excitement, but--"

"I know, Henry. I know." She sighed and kissed the back of Logan's neck, and he let out a small growl of pleasure. "But a chance is all I want. What we want. We've always wanted another child, and we will let nature take its course from here on out."

"Mommy?" The six year old yawned and tugged on her mother's jacket. "Can I have a lollipop for bein' good?"

A year later, little Charles Remy was born.

# # #

"How--? I must have...must have...Dammit, it's too soon. I'm already forgetting..."

"Mariko--?"

She jerked at the name, realizing it was her name. She didn't know why, but she half-expected her mother to call her Nada.

"Child? Are you all right?" Ororo came into the kitchen tentatively. She had a twenty-one month old baby on her hip--little Jeannie Ayodele, her miracle sister, the only child who shared her mother's white hair and blue eyes. The sister who almost died in childbirth, except she didn't because...because--

# # #

"I won't lie to you. The transplant stages are extremely experimental."

Ororo cupped her hands in her husbands, and he squeezed her fingers tightly. "If there is a chance, Charles, I will take it," she whispered. "I will not kill this unborn life within me."

The muscles in Logan's jaw worked dangerously when he heard his oldest brat and his son whisper against Xavier's office door. He would've yelled at them and told them to high-tail it back to the rec room since this was none of their damned business, but he didn't want to miss what Chuck had to say.

He'd wanted Chuck to talk 'Ro out of it, to force her to take the easy way out, but the gal was stubborn, and neither man had the balls to convince her to get the abortion. Still, he'd rather try for the transplant than let her go ahead with the pregnancy. That way was too damned risky.

"I think there could be a chance, Ororo. I spoke with a few colleagues in the obstetrics field, and one mentioned some upcoming laser treatments. She feels--theoretically, of course--that she could surgically remove part of the tissues concealing your egg, and that a combination of Logan's cells with your own may give the egg a chance to develop naturally once it's transplanted into your uterus. I can't promise anything, but she's had marginal success with mutant parents. Far more than with human ones."

Charles presented a slim business card, and Ororo took it shakily.

"I think she's your best chance."

Eight months later, Ororo cried as she held the newly named Ayodele Jean in her arms.

# # #

Mariko rubbed her temples, feeling the lingering effects of a bad headache. Her mother felt her forehead with the back of her hand.

"You don't feel feverish," she said softly. "Were you about to jump? Charley said you looked as if you were about to disappear from my kitchen." Her mouth hardened. "Last time it took two days to scrub the scorch marks from the walls, young lady."

"I'm fine, Mom," she said quietly. "Just a little dizzy." She smiled at her mother's concerned face and hugged her fiercely. Ayodele made small screeches of protest, but it didn't matter. This all felt right, completely right. When had it ever been wrong?

"Hey, 'Ro, I'm goin' out ta pick up some ice cream and cig--" Logan ambled into the kitchen doorway and raised his eyebrow at the strange scene. His daughter, the one whose attitude rivaled his, had suddenly gone all lovey on her Ma.

"Did I miss somethin'?"

Mariko made a small little shriek and expanded her hug to include her father. He just shook his head and disentangled himself with a small smirk. She didn't want to let go of him--she enjoyed hearing his slow, rumbling growl too much. "Brat. Ya think you can change yer pop's heart with a hug?" He kissed her forehead. "Don't bet on it."

He kissed Ororo on the lips and headed out the door. "Be back in twenty, 'Ro. Then, kid, you an' I got some serious chattin' ta do."

Mariko listened to her father's footsteps echo throughout the house, and she couldn't stop the tears in her eyes from falling. Her mother watched her husband leave with a lingering smile all her own, proving to Mari that they were still very much in love, after all this time.

Ororo suddenly touched her oldest daughter's face with a slim finger. "M'iki? Why are you crying?"

"I...I don't know," she said honestly. "It just felt like I really missed you all of a sudden."

"Ah, college jitters," Ororo said with a small smile. "Sit." Her daughter obeyed and sat at the breakfast table. Mari's mind filled in more gaps. They'd had the brownstone for ten years, and it was a stone's throw from Xavier central, and her mother liked it that way. Storm retired from the X-life once Ayodele was born, preferring the Supermom title to superhero.

Ororo went to the fridge and brought out a pitcher of milk. She brought it and a plate of cookies--her cure for all ailments--to the smaller table. "Are you sure you'll be up to talking with your father tonight? He likes that you finally decided to go to NYU, but getting him to accept a theater major in the family...well, that is an entirely different matter."

Mariko frowned as she bit into a cookie. "What happened to MIT?"

Charley snorted and shuffled past his mother with an armful of glasses. "With your scores? Yeah, sure, Super-freak."

"Charles. You know I don't appreciate name-calling in this house."

At least he had the decency to look sheepish. "Sorry, Mom. But it's not like Mari got 1600 on her SATs, or anything."

Hadn't she? Hadn't there been something in her life that drove her to study harder, later on? "Don't tell Dad just yet, but I think I want to change my major."

"Really?" Her mother was close to grinning. She didn't want her to be a theater major, either. "I think he would prefer anything to theater. What else are you thinking about?"

"Physics--or maybe biochemistry."

Charley's laugh sounded like his father's. The deep, hardy sound pinged off the kitchen walls and surrounded the room. "Physics? You got a 'D' in every math class since seventh grade."

Ororo kept her eyes on her daughter and smiled. "If you want it, you can achieve it. You have your father's will, after all."

Mariko smiled back at her Mom, and glared at her brother. But even Charley's laugh felt good in her ears. "Mom?"

"Hmm?" Ororo was still looking concerned, but Ayodele had started to squirm on her hip and her attention returned to the baby.

"Did I...Did I ever have problems with my abilities? Controlling them, I mean."

"No, not that we know of." Ororo put Ayodele down in the kitchen. The child squealed, ran to her sister, and jumped into her lap. Mariko grinned at her and stroked her soft white curls, and allowed her sister to lie back in her arms. Ororo sat beside her eldest daughter. "Did someone mention something to you?"

Mari pursed her lips. "No. Just checking."

"Other than that operation you had when you were an infant, you've been in perfect health."

She nodded. They told her that Uncle Charles had asked Uncle Hank to run one test. He had a hunch, he said. If he hadn't run that test ...

I will remember you, Nada...I will not forget....

Her eyes glistened as the last of her old memories disappeared. In a few days she'd be in college, but Salem Center was her true home. Always was, always would be.

It felt good to be home.

--Fin.--