*** DISCLAIMER: The X-MEN belong to Marvel Comics. They have been used
without permission. No profit has been made from this work. This story,
however, is copyrighted to me.

*** WARNING: This story may contain adult language, adult content, and
violence. If you're offended by these things, please don't read this.

*** NOTE: All previous parts of this story are being kindly archived at
the *Fonts of Wisdom* web page, which is at http://home.att.
net/~lubakmetyk/, and at the *Static Journal* web page, which can be
reached at http://www.geocities.com/SoHo/Gallery/3169/. Thank you.

BLACK LOVE (10/12)
By Jon Bartley

PART TEN: "The Everlasting Answer"

A full week passed, before Scott decided to confront Skuddly. On the
week's last day, Scott spent his waking hours deciding on what weapons
he would need to fight the wishsmith. Ultimately, he was reminded, it
didn't matter what weapons he used or how thick his armor was--it would
never be enough.
     When he went to sleep that night, Scott tied the cloth Jessica had
given him around his forehead, lay himself down to dream, and wished his
final three wishes.
     First, armor...
     He dreamed of a honorable suit of grey metal. Engraved in red paint
on his breastplate was the image of a lion. There were heavy arches
shaped like feathered wings for shoulder plates. His arms were bare and
muscular. A pair of tight black gloves clothed his hands. His lower half
consisted of black pants, leather, laced boots, and spiked kneecaps. A
brown leather belt coiled around his waist. A helmet sculpted around his
head, the cold expression of a warrior's face imprinted onto the
faceguard. Scott felt his two eyes merge into one behind it.
     Now, weapons...
     A stone hammer slide into a thick loop on his belt. Several four-
pointed throwing stars lined behind the hammer. Two daggers fell into
holsters on his boots.
     Finally, the battlefield...
     The fuzzy darkness of his dreamscape shifted. Cyclops felt his
newly armored body move with it. The scene was dark and hot. Metal was
in abundance. As it became clear to Scott, he thought the battlefield
was suiting. His leather feet hit stone, and the wisher found himself in
Skuddly's smithy.
     Cyclops couldn't tell if he was dreaming or not. But there was no
doubt about it--this was all real. There wasn't anyone in the smithy, so
Cyclops left through two large, wooden doors. Outside was a garden. He
followed a path of aesthetically placed stones, and soon found himself
lost in the maze of the garden. Then one of the walls of bush opened up
and revealed a lounging area. Cyclops walked out onto it and looked
around.
     "We've been expecting you," a voice called out to him.
     Scott's head jerked to the left.
     It was Lysette, and she didn't look as friendly and happy as she
did during their last encounter. She walked across the cement, and
stopped six feet away from him.
     "I figured that," he answered to her. "Skuddly has stolen from me
everything but my life. I plan on getting it all back today, or lose my
life to him as well. You got that?"
     Lysette nodded. "Oh, yes. I understand. You're very motivated. But
so am I. Skuddly is my master, and I'll do everything I can to protect
him from you."
     "I have no problem with fighting you. So how do we do this?"
     The short girl grinned. "I'm so glad you asked. And because it was
*you* that asked, I get to choose how we fight. A question. I ask, you
answer. If you answer correctly, I turn to dust, and Skuddly gets to
kill you like he wanted. If you answer *in*correctly, then you turn to
dust and I get your fancy armor."
     Cyclops nodded in agreement to her terms. This was going to be
harder than he thought.
     "The question," she began again, "is this: what is the one thing
you may never wish for--and get--but is never too difficult to find?"
     *Much* harder than he thought.
     Scott repeated the question in his mind. What is immune to the
power of wishing, but is easily found? He looked his armor over, and
felt silly. If he didn't answer this question correctly, he would die,
and his efforts to armor himself would have been for nothing.
     "Five more seconds," Lysette warned.
     Quickly, he raced through his mind, looking for an answer. Then it
stuck him. Scott thought back to the white strip of cloth Jessica had
presented him with. He remembered staring at it, and finally, he had the
answer. He looked up to Lysette, stared straight at her, and said:
     "Hope."
     She blinked. "What?"
     "What can never be wished for, but is never too difficult to find?
HOPE. This answer to your question is hope."
     "I... I never thought of that," she admitted. "I should have asked
my sister what the answer was... I was never too good at answers. It was
a good question, though. It was." she said, then vanished.
     A pyramidal pile of dust appeared in Lysette's place.
     Cyclops stepped over it, and walked further into the garden.
     HOPE, he repeated to himself. Perhaps that was where he'd gone
wrong. With himself, with Jean, with Rogue, with Warren, with
*everything*. Perhaps, in granting all their wishes, he had robbed them
of their hope.
     He turned right, then left, then right again. Scott found himself
in a square room. The walls were cement; there were chairs gathered in
the corners. In the center of the room was a fountain. And on the other
side of the fountain stood the wishsmith.
     Skuddly removed his hat, and threw it in the corner.
     "Welcome."

To Be Continued...
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