Well, this is my second ever fanfic.  I got some nice feedback on the
first, and hope the second installment is also appreciated.  I still welcome
comments and suggestions.  If anyone has a problem with the pacing, please
fill me in.  I'm trying to build elements up here, and it won't be coming to
a head right away.

    The Ever-Imporant Disclaimer: All of these characters belong to Marvel
Comics. I am not writing this story for profit, but to alleviate boredom.
My usage of Marvel's property in this story stems from my deep enjoyment
thereof, and is in no way an attempt to violate their copyright.

________________________________________

The Inner Circle: Smoke and Ashes - Part Two
___________________________________________

    Emma Frost stumbled slightly under the weight of her suitcases as she
made her way across the hotel room provided for her.  She'd managed to bang
her right elbow against the doorframe on her way in, and it throbbed as she
lifted one suitcase onto the bed and then placed the other beside it.  She
almost regretted having refused the offer of having the bags carried to the
closet for her, but not entirely.  She needed solitude.

    She winced as she hugged her elbow with the palm of her left hand.  Her
white dress jacket, comfortable as it was, had done little to cushion the
sharp blow.  She opened and closed her fist, flexing her forearm, until the
pain subsided somewhat.  So far, the trip was going nowhere as nicely as
she'd hoped, and it was only her practicality that kept her from fearing it
was an omen of things to come.

    "That'll do," she mumbled to herself, deciding to leave her luggage
packed for the moment.  She made her way across the tufted carpet and closed
the door she'd left open upon entering the room.  She turned the deadbolt
and slid the chain into place, making her isolation from the rest of the
world complete.  There was not so much psionic static here, the overflow of
errant thoughts that had plagued her at the airport, and she was able to
concentrate more fully on what may or may not have been her biggest mistake
in recent memory.

    "Damn him," she muttered, rubbing her temples to work out the first
traces of a headache.  She ignored her elbow aching in protest at the
movement and sat on the side of the bed near her baggage.  She felt out of
sorts and uncertain how to proceed next, a state with which she was
exceedingly unfamiliar.  She had always been sure of herself, partially
because of her confidence in her physical appearance, and partially because
of her ability to read and alter the thoughts of others.  In the past, it
had easily allowed her to gain the advantage in most situations.  Her
ability to maintain her composure was almost infamous, and she had been
known as the White Queen for more than just her position in the Hellfire
Club.  Now, something else was interfereing with her ability to master
herself.  Something most unexpected.

    "Damn him," she repeated, more harshly.  She was here on a fool's
errand, running to do someone else's dirty work after she had sworn to
herself that she would never be drawn into the schemes of the Hellfire Club
again.  That Shinobi Shaw had contacted her, knowing full well her
resentment towards him over his role in the monstrous Upstart competition,
was infuriating.  At the same time, she could not deny what he had offered
her.

    A chance at revenge.  A chance to destroy the man who had stolen her
children's lives, and months of her own life, from her.  She let her gaze
wander over the interior of her hotel room, somehow failing to really see
any of it as torrents of conflicting emotion raced through her.  She had
heard that Fitzroy was dead at the hands of Cable and X-Force, left to rot
during the Upstart contest that had come to be known as the Younghunt.  She
had wanted to believe that he was.  And yet she had ached that she never had
the opportunity to personally repay him for the innocent lives he'd stolen.
She had fantasized about what might happen on the day she finally came face
to face with him again.

    Now that day had come, and she was terrified.  She had lived so long
with the pain, she was surprised to learn that she was in a state of
apprehension that bordered on despair.  But she would avenge her children.
She would help Shinobi eliminate his father's Inner Circle, if for no reason
than to exorcize her own private demons.  She would make sure Selene and
Fitzroy paid for what they'd done to her, and what they'd done to the
Hellions.

    "Damn you, Shinobi," she spat once more, bitterly.  She'd worked so long
to make herself a better woman, to move away from thoughts of revenge and
the petty vendettas that made up her past.  Believing that Fitzroy was dead,
she'd had every reason to do so.  Now, that hate was welling up in her
again.  Banshee had urged her not to come, afraid that contact with the
Hellfire Club would awaken old fires within her.  She had dismissed it as an
impossibility.  Now she wasn't so sure.

    "Get ahold of yourself, woman," she hissed.  She forcibly yanked her
hands away from her forehead.  "You're behaving like a child."

    She took a deep breath and picked up the phone, and in a few moments had
placed an international call.  She needed to make contact with the school,
and to remind herself that she had a new set of students to worry about now.
Students that needed her to come home safely.  Her arm was still a little
sore as she cradled the receiver, but she forced her pain and anxiety away
as the phone at the other end began to ring.

    "Hello," came a voice over the line.

    "Hello, Jubilation.  Might Sean be around?"

    "Nope.  And don't call me Jubilation.  You know I hate that."

    "Are you expecting him back?"

    "Sooner or later," the girl on the other end of the line answered
vaguely.  "Where are you calling from, anyway?  You sound a little funny."

    "I'm overseas on business at the moment," Emma answered, truthfully.
"Though I expect I should be home in time for your birthday."

    "Well, I hope so.  And I know you make megabucks, so you better not be
planning to skimp out on me."

    Emma smiled.  "I would certainly never intentionally 'skimp out' on
anyone, Jubilee."

    "Well, we'll see.  I'm thinking I could use a car."

    "A car?" Emma asked, her smile broadening.  She chose not to dwell on
the potentially disasterous ramifications of Jubilee owning her own vehical.

    "Yeah.  You know how it can get at the Academy.  Bo-rring."

    "Well, I'm afraid you're just going to have to wait until your sixteenth
for that one."

    "But that's, like, a whole 'nother year!"

     "I know, I'm a monster,"  Emma replied.  She adjusted the phone against
her shoulder and twirled the cord absently around one finger.  "I have to go
now.  Tell Sean I called, and if you grab a pen and paper I'll leave a
number where I can be reached."

    "Hold on," Jubilee answered sulkily.  There came the sound of things
being shuffled about before she eventually came back on the line.  "Ok, I'm
ready."

    Emma gave Jubilee her room number and the hotel's phone number, making
the girl repeat the digits back to her to prevent confusion.  Of all her
students, Jubilee was perhaps the one with the shortest attention span.  If
anyone needed to get ahold of her, she didn't want there to be even one
problem.

    "Have storming the castle," Jubilee said.

    "I'm sure I  will," Emma answered dryly.  "But I promise to bring you
all something back, regardless.  Sound fair?"

    "Fair.  Catch ya later."

    For a long moment after hanging up Emma sat on the bed, a slight smile
on her face.  She had new students now, a new life built from the ashes of
the old.  In all ways it was a far more enjoyable, and rewarding, life than
the one she had lived during her Hellfire years.

     "I'll be fine, Sean," she said, closing her eyes.  "I just have to do
this one last thing, set everything right... and then I can walk away from
the club forever."

    She rose from the bed and began unpacking, ignoring reservations that
were building within her over the next step of the plan.  Shinboi had
explained to her the necessity of working with Donald Pierce, but she still
found the idea highly distasteful.  The man had suffered through the same
massacre that she had, and consequently had his own reasons for wanting to
drag this particular Inner Circle down.  Nonetheless, Pierce hated mutants
with a passion.  She would have to exercise an extreme amount of caution in
dealing with him, and with the woman who would serve as their guide to the
London branch of the Hellfire Club.

    She checked her watch and began setting out clothes.  She had very
little time left.

-------------------------------------------------------------

    Martine glared at Benedict Kine as he gave a final snort and awoke from
his nap, looking around his surroundings with bleary eyes.

    "Sleep well?" She asked.  She removed the headphones provided to her by
the flight attendant and folded the magazine she'd been reading.

    "Yes," he responded sleepily, rising out of the slouch he'd sunk in.  He
fumbled at the compartment in the seat in front of him until he found his
glasses and placed them back on.  "How long was I out?"

    Martine checked her watch and then gazed back at him, smiling.

    "By Manhattan time, an hour and a half.  By British time--"

    He waved a hand empathically.  "Don't remind me.  I expect to become
intimately aquainted with jet lag soon enough."

    Martine sipped at her coke.

    "Have any interesting dreams?" She asked.

    "Oh, one or two, I think," the older man responded, wiping errant
strands of gray-white hair from his forehead.  "Yes, at least two."

    "And was I in any of them?"

    "Well," Benedict said, and thought for a moment.  "Actually."

    "Hmmm?"

    "No," he said at last.  "You weren't."

    "Oh."

    Martine put her headphones back on and resumed reading her magazine.
The sooner they got to London, and the sooner the others turned Benedict
into a wet smear on the sidewalk, the better.

--------------------------------------------------------------------

    Sebastian Shaw was a large man, and would have been intimidating even
were that not the case.  At all times he carried himself with a regal
bearing, and exuded a confidence and control that had others bowing and
scraping even if ignorant of his mutant abilities.  He knew the effect he
had on people, and enjoyed playing it to its utmost.  He kept his face calm
and collected, rarely showing anything of the thought and emotion that might
broil within except for when dramatically appropriate.    It was a face that
was only newly free of the scar he'd received when his son, Shinobi, had
attempted to murder him.  Madelyne had healed it for him recently, after one
of her frequent, mysterious trips away from the club.

    He surveyed the scene in front of him, a room that had apparently been
the site of some sort of brawl, and  fought down some of the anger he felt
building inside of him.  He didn't have the time to act as a referee, nor
did he have the inclination.

    "I would like an explanation," he said simply.

    "Me too," Tessa groaned, rubbing a hand against her head as she
straightened in the corner of the room, stumbling to hold a coat rack for
support.

    Madelyne Pryor was seated in a chair at the center of the room.  Her
green eyes were fixed in a glare at a another woman who was at the moment a
non-ranked member of the Inner Circle.  Scribe had been Sebastian's choice
for Black Rook, and while Madelyne had claimed the position for herself he
still had hopes that Scribe would find a place in their organization.  He
let his eyes wander to toppled game pieces littering the floor and an entire
poker table crumpled behind Maddie's chair.  A small amount of conflict in
the Inner Circle was encouraged, as it made things interesting.  An actual
fight was expressly forbidden, and could well prove disasterous this early
on.

    "Well?"  He prompted, letting some of the legitimate irritation he felt
sneak into his voice.

    Scribe shrugged helplessly, switching her gaze between Madelyne and
Sebastian as if not certain who to address her confusion to.  "I'm not
sure."

    *Madelyne?* He thought, letting the words bubble to the surface of his
mind where she could easily pick them up telepathically.  The woman shifted
slightly in her chair, and he knew that she'd heard him.  He sighed
inwardly.  He'd been having second thoughts about their relationship for
some time now, and she had apparently picked up on it.  He imagined that was
the reason she was choosing to be difficult.

    "Madelyne," he prompted, aloud this time.  "Do you have anything you'd
like to contribute?"

    She sat rigid in the chair, head tilted to one side and expression free
of emotion.  The set of her shoulders and the coloration of her skin gave
away her annoyance, however.

    "No," she said tightly, and dropped her eyes.

    Sebastian frowned, letting it touch his lips.  He swept his gaze quickly
over the room and gestured for Tessa to join him.  She winced and made her
way forward, limping slightly.  Madelyne stiffened even more dramatically in
the chair, impossible as it seemed.  Yes, he could see that she was going to
be trouble.

    "I need aspirin," Tessa muttered, rubbing the back of her neck with her
hand as she walked past Madelyne's chair, refusing to look at the red-haired
woman.  Maddie likewise kept her eyes fixed on the floor, ignoring Tessa's
existence alltogether.

    Sebastian rested a hand gently on Tessa's shoulder as he helped her out
the door.  He turned back to the room to see that Madelyne was glaring at
him now, a wounded expression on her face.  He wanted to reach out to her
and help to close the gap that had grown between them, but at the same time
he wanted her to understand that he had no patience for adults who behaved
like children.

    "Ladies," he said formally, and gave a stiff bow.  Without another look
he closed the door and caught up with Tessa, who was making her way towards
the staircase.

    "That woman is insane," Tessa snarled, limping as she plodded down the
first few steps.  He braced her with an arm to keep her from toppling
headlong down the stairs.

    "She's not insane, Tessa," Sebastian countered.  "She's vulnerable.  She
considers Selene a friend, and the woman's been treating her horribly for
weeks now.  I can understand why she might be a little touchy."

     Tessa tilted her head somewhat to study him.  "I can't believe you're
defending her behavior.  The Sebastian Shaw I know would never stand for
that kind of 'touchiness' in his Circle."

     "And I won't," he said sternly.  "I'll address the matter with Madelyne
later, in private.  What I want to avoid now is having other people tangled
up in our problems, which is apparently exactly what's already begun to
happen."

     Tessa's jaw tightened and she directed her gaze back to the stairs as
she desceneded them.  "When are we supposed to be meeting with Benedict and
Martine?"

     Sebastian was glad for the change of subject.  "In two hours time.  I'm
hoping we can display a unified front for them, or we might never convince
them to help us dislodge Shinobi from the Black Kingship.  Not to worry,
Tessa.  Anyone incapable of behaving in a civil fashion will not be invited
to the dinner party."

    Tessa nodded, and a slight smile touched her lips.  "Good."

    Sebastian didn't like the way things were shaping up in the Inner
Circle.  Not at all.  He had a history with Tessa, so he could understand
her disapproval of his relationship with Madelyne.  Madelyne, on the other
hand, had been taken advantage of in one scenario after the other.  He could
understand her view on the situation as well.

     He only hoped things remained stable until the two Inner Circles could
be merged.  Then he could restructure the organization as he saw fit,
smoothing out the rough edges.  And there were a great many rough edges,
indeed.

    "How is the selection of new Hellions coming along?" Sebastian asked as
they left the stairs.

    A servant woman caught sight of them and hurried in their direction.
His companion quickly requested that she bring aspirin and something to eat
to the study.  The woman curtsied and rushed off to do just that.

    "The selection is coming along fine," Tessa said as Sebastian helped her
walk towards the room where his grandson was, hopefully, continuing to look
through profiles of potential candidates.  "Trevor's been a little
uncooperative, but he does have some good input now and again.  I've been
left to do most of the work myself, which is fine, but I could do without
his smart-mouthed comments."

    "Let's see what we can do to rectify the situation, then," he replied.
Trevor was from the future, a teleporter with the ability to traverse time
as well as space.  He had been born an illegitimate son of his own era's
Black King, one Anthony Shaw.  Sebastian wasn't sure if he was supposed to
feel any kinship to Fitzroy as a result, and he certainly did not.  He had
some reservations about Trevor's role in the Inner Circle, but Selene
insisted that he remain as the only member of the White Royalty, an impotent
position at best.  He'd apparently once cut off one of Shinobi's fingers, an
act that served to earn him a few points in Sebastian's eyes.  Surprisingly,
considering the man's murderous background, his decendant was one of the few
members of the newly formed Circle who managed for the most part to keep out
of trouble.

     Recreating the Hellions was an important project, and he had every
confidence that Tessa would put the group together admirably.  He just hoped
he hadn't made a terrible mistake in assigning Fitzroy to help her.

--------------------------------------------------

    "Are you feeling better?" Scribe asked, kneeling on the ground in front
of her chair.  Madelyne looked away quickly.

    "I'm sorry," she whispered, her voice light, and the world shifted
around her.  Mountjoy's thoughts were difficult to read in his host body,
the patterns muddled indistinctly together, but she picked up a brief
flicker of surprise as she vanished from his sight.

    Maddie stood alone in her bedroom, eyes burning wetly.  She'd made a
mess of things again, it seemed, and that trollop Tessa no doubt planned to
take full advantage of it.

    "Damn it!"

    She swiped her jewelry box from her nightstand, the small wooden chest
landing with an unimportant thump on the floor.  She huddled up next to it,
sobbing quietly into trembling hands.  And time, ignorant of her pain,
ticked uncaringly onward.

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