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