GO WEST
(or: The Continuing Adventures of the New Mutants)

Chapter 1: "Shelter From the Storm"

Too many stories begin or end in airports. Warm reunions, tearful goodbyes, all accounted for in the everyday traffic through the terminals. From the salesperson on business to the family on vacation to the wanderer on the latest of a continuing series of voyages, every passenger has a story.

Three such passengers among dozens disembarked a colossal DC-10, carry-ons and personal belongings strewn about their persons, moving in the sort of quiet daze that follows a long flight.

"Welcome to beautiful San Diego," remarked one, a young blonde man in casual dress, grinning at his companions. "The captain reports that the weather is seventy-two and sunny, with no snow, freezing temperatures or world-threatening menaces in the immediate forecast."

"Har har, Doug," said one of the others, a tall, muscular Hispanic of about the same age. "Yeah, I think I could get used to this weather again."

"Ah, you'll be a left coaster again before you know it, Ric," Doug laughed. "I know I'm glad to be back."

The third traveler, a petite young lady with close-cropped red hair, hung back from the two boys, not speaking, nor sharing in their somewhat weary enthusiasm.

"Hey, Rahne," Ric said, looking back at her. "You okay, amorita?"

Rahne made a visible effort to brighten. "Aye, I'm jus' tired. It'll pass."

"There was supposed to be someone here to meet us," Doug pointed out then, "but I don't..."

"DOUG!!"

This last shout came from another young woman, who rushed out of the milling crowd in the terminal and launched herself at Doug, grabbing him in a colossal bearhug and almost knocking him over in her enthusiasm.

Rahne frowned and exchanged glances with Ric, who widened his eyes. Neither of them had expected this.

"Oh, God, it's good to see you!" the girl was saying. "How're you feeling? Is everything okay? I'm sorry, am I late? Traffic was sheer hell getting here, I'm sorry..."

"Brynn, it's fine!" Doug was grinning, but there was pain evident in his features. "Just leggo a sec, okay? I'm still recovering from my final."

"Oh! Oh, God, I'm sorry," she babbled on. "Are you hurt? I'm sorry, I..."

"Brynn, relax, everything's okay. You didn't break anything. But thanks."

Brynn took a deep breath, and just looked at him for a minute. "Oh, geez, Doug," she grinned back at him. "Even after talking on the phone, it's just so... amazing to see you back."

"It's good to see you too, Brynn. When did you start growing your hair out again?"

"It's been a couple of years now," Brynn answered, self-consciously brushing a few stray red curls out of her face. "And you look so... healthy! What, is being dead good for the physique or something?"

Ric cleared his throat, and they both looked over at him. He smiled with somewhat mock politeness. "So, Doug, are you going to introduce us?"

"Oh! Oh, yeah, of course." Doug stood to the girl's side, then, and made the first introductions. "Ric, Rahne, this is my cousin Brynn McAudry. Brynn, this is Rahne Sinclair, and that's Ric... er... Ric..."

"Torres," Ric supplied. "Ricardo Torres. But you can call me Ric."

"Nice to meet you, Ric," Brynn smiled at him. "And Rahne, of course, I should have recognized you."

Rahne, who seemed noticeably relieved by the knowledge that Brynn was in fact family, cocked her head sideways. "Why? Have we met?"

"No, but Doug told us about you in the letters he wrote us," Brynn explained. "I sort of feel like I already know you. It's good to meet you, finally. Hey, let's go get your stuff and get going. I've got the house all ready for you." She gave Rahne and Ric a conspiratorial grin. "You're gonna love living in La Jolla."

"So how's everything at the ranch?" Doug asked his cousin as they headed out from the gate area. Rahne and Ric followed in step, arms linked.

"Everything's doing pretty well," Brynn nodded. "There would have been more of us here to meet you, but there's a big show in Riverside, so dad, mom, Papa Mike, Brian and Kellen are all there. Grandma and Lon are holding down the fort. Amalthea's going to foal any day now, can you believe it?"

"Sheesh. 'McAudry Ranch: Ride all you like, we'll breed more.'"

"And how about you? How'd you get so banged up? Was it in that... Dangerous Room you told me about?"

"Danger Room," Doug corrected her. "That was the final I was talking about. And finals at Xavier's can be a real pain in every sense..."

Wednesday, 11 August 1993 11:29 am EDT

"Your goal," came Xavier's voice over the ready room speakers, "is to cross this simulation and reach the 'kill' button on the far wall."

"Sounds easy enough," Doug nodded, finishing the last of his limbering exercises and standing ready at the door that led into the Danger Room.

"Cyclops, Wolverine, Gambit, Archangel, Psylocke and Bishop will try to stop you," the professor went on. "You are to use your powers, your abilities and your ingenuity to defeat them."

"Oh, that's just great," Doug said in a sarcastic voice. "I'll just speak Portuguese and confuse 'em all, eh?"

The door slid open, and Doug cautiously stepped out into the moonlit, mist-shrouded scene of a post-apocalyptic Manhattan. This simulation had been coming up far too often lately, Doug noted, as he quickly looked around for cover.

A shadow eclipsed the moon, and Doug barely had a chance to look up before Archangel launched a barrage of wing-knives at him. It seemed the X-Men were wasting no time.

Doug cursed, did a tumbling roll to one side, then came up running, the wing-blades THUNKing into the ground behind him.

"Scott, he's yours!" Archangel called, pulling up into a hover.

Doug panicked and dropped down into the waist-high mist, just before an optic blast from Cyclops flashed by over his head. Now completely covered by the rolling fog, he couldn't tell from which direction it had come.

Perhaps the fog would work to his advantage, though. Keeping as low to the ground as he could, he quickly crawled away, making a beeline for where he guessed the nearest structure to be.

It occurred to him that with Psylocke among the opposition, staying hidden wouldn't do him much good, as she'd simply relay his position to the others telepathically. Just in case she was listening, he brought a particularly inventive curse to mind, then redoubled his efforts in keeping up an adequate psychic shield.

He made it to a relatively intact building, and quickly darted inside. No optic blasts or wing-knives followed, so apparently he hadn't been seen.

He looked around for a back exit in the vast, one-room bottom floor, and found it blocked with rubble. There were no windows to slip through, either. The only way off the floor was a staircase leading up. Cursing like a mantra, he hurried back to the door through which he'd entered, and peeked outside.

Cyclops was visible above the fog, carefully scanning the area, and Doug also heard the unmistakable sound of metallic wings slicing the air above. After a moment, he caught sight of Wolverine, apparently sniffing out Doug's trail. It wouldn't be long until he found this hiding place...

Doug scanned the room for anything he could use as a weapon, and amidst the ruined furnishings he eventually found a mostly intact table leg, which he could use as a club. It wouldn't do much against someone who could hit him from a hundred feet, though. His only way out was the stairway. Perhaps he could make his escape by way of the rooftops.

Holding his club in one hand, he hurried up the flight of stairs, turned the corner, and almost ran straight into Bishop, who'd been waiting for him on the landing.

Acting on reflex alone, Doug swung his table leg at him, but the big man caught it and ripped it out of Doug's hands, sending it clattering to the floor of the landing. He then wordlessly closed in.

Doug immediately went into what he had come to call "defensive mode," concentrating all of his power on "reading" his opponent's moves and body language. Bishop was, by far, the best fighter currently with the X-Men, at least in technique, but by watching his every motion, Doug was able to counter each strike with a block, and each kick with a ducking or dodging maneuver. He didn't have a moment to get in a strike of his own, though, as Bishop was far too quick. Without his guns, however, and without a power to fuel his own energy-reflecting ability, he couldn't take Doug down.

Then, as Bishop lunged, attempting to overbear the smaller mutant, Doug ducked and tried to use the man's own momentum against him, turning the lunge into a throw. Unfortunately, he miscalculated, and Bishop got him in a bearhug that squeezed the breath from him. They wrestled for a while, but Doug nowhere near matched Bishop's size and strength.

Suddenly, Bishop stepped on Doug's discarded table leg, which rolled under his foot, throwing his balance. Doug's weight unbalanced him further, and he fell down the staircase, dragging Doug with him.

When at last they tumbled to a halt, Doug tried to spring to his feet, but his right leg nearly gave out beneath him, and fire shot through his chest as he tried to breathe. Nothing seemed to be broken, but he was bruised and bloodied by the fall.

Bishop, however, was not moving at all. Doug cautiously knelt beside him and checked for a pulse. The big man was alive, but out cold. Blood poured from a long, nasty-looking gash across the side of his head.

Doug ripped off Bishop's bandanna-scarf, and tied it around his head, then ripped some cloth from the man's costume and stuffed it under the band to staunch the flow of blood. "Professor, call off the simulation!" he called out. "We've got an injury here!"

The only response was the familiar SNIKT of adamantium claws emerging from their housings.

Doug twisted around to see Wolverine leaping for him, claws brandished. "Shit!" he cried, diving for the floor. Wolverine's slash went over his head, and took out part of the staircase.

While Bishop had been quietly, almost politely businesslike in his efforts to kill Doug, Wolverine seemed to want to chat him up as they fought. "You made a big mistake hanging around here this long, bub! You can't hide from me!"

Doug got back to his feet and back into defensive mode. Even though he was a touch faster than Bishop, Wolverine was an open book to Doug, who could sense his every attack coming from a mile off. He ducked, dodged and spun away from a swift flurry of attacks, then planted a shock-punch to the man's chest.

And nearly broke his hand.

"Whatsamatta, kid?" Wolverine snarled. "Forgot about my adamantium skeleton?" he continued the unrelenting assault, driving Doug across the rubble-strewn room.

Doug snatched up a half-brick and heaved it at Wolverine, catching him on the side of the head. Even this didn't slow him down.

"Ain't no hurt you c'n dish out that my healing factor can't take, bub!" With these words, Wolverine closed in for the kill, driving Doug up against the wall.

Just as he was about to pin the younger mutant with his claws, though, Doug yelled out "Take this, bub!" and brought his left boot up full-force into Wolverine's groin. The man's eyes bugged under his mask, and he slowly sank to the floor, clutching at himself.

"What, no adamantium balls?" Doug muttered, stumbling toward the exit.

He didn't make it that far, though, as Cyclops was standing in the open doorway, with Gambit at his shoulder. Doug once again dove for the floor as an optic blast ripped by and struck the opposite wall, damaging it severely. There came an ominous creak, then, and pieces of the ceiling began raining down, along with clouds of plaster dust.

The idiot was about to bring the house down on them.

Doug came up running, and dashed for the back wall. With it already weakened by the blast, he was able to break through. It hurt, but less than one of Cyclops's beams would.

Behind, he heard the sizzle of Gambit charging up an object to throw after him, but Cyclops's authoritative voice cut him short, warning him that the building was about to fall.

"Brilliant effing deduction, Sherlock," Doug growled under his breath, racing back out into the open. They'd have to stop to get Bishop and Wolverine out, so perhaps he had time to make it to the exit.

Or perhaps not. Archangel swooped down out of the sky again and cut loose with yet another barrage of wing-blades. Doug dove behind the burned-out husk of a totalled car, but not before one of the knives plunged into his bad leg, cutting through his costume as easily as through warm butter.

Doug screamed and fell as the leg gave, but quickly rolled into a sheltered position. He yanked the blade free, but its neuro-toxin coating was already numbing his leg.

Wasting no time, he used the knife to cut a strip of cloth from his costume, tying it into a tourniquet around his thigh. This would hopefully prevent spreading, but it wouldn't help him to move...

There was only one thing to do. He reached into his belt and pulled out a small lump of metal. It was a dormant piece of Warlock's techno-organic structure- a "module," which both he and Doug could control.

Drawing on his knowledge from his own time as a technoid, Doug shaped the module with his mind and his hands, creating a thin covering over his leg. With this under his mental command, he could keep moving, using the techno-organic material as artificial "muscle."

Scanning the sky, Doug saw Archangel swoop by again, still looking for him. As soon as he pulled away, Doug snatched up a few of the wing-blades that had missed him, lumbered to his feet, and ran for it, in the direction he guessed the exit to be.

This eventually brought him back to the main road, where this whole mess had begun. Looking to one side, over the mist, Doug saw Cyclops and Psylocke over by the now-demolished building in which he'd fought Bishop and Wolverine. The two were apparently trying to revive their injured comrades.

He looked the opposite way to where the 'kill' button was, and saw it at the end of a dead-end alley. Sure enough, Gambit had run down the street to stand watch over it.

*There he is!!* came Psylocke's mental voice suddenly, broadcasting for all to hear. Doug looked back to see her pointing at him. Both she and Cyclops took off after him, and Wolverine staggered to his feet to follow.

Doug cursed and ran for the 'kill' button. He'd rather deal with Gambit than those three.

"Salut, mon ami!" Gambit called, holding a charged-up card in his hand. "Comment ça va?"

Doug feinted to his left. "Je ne suis pas ton ami..."

He feinted to his right. "Je ne veux pas être ton ami..."

He feinted to his left again, trying to slip past. "Et je pense que je ne serai jamais ton ami!"

Gambit let the card fly, not fooled by Doug's maneuvers. Doug tried to dodge the ensuing explosion, but it sent him flying, and he hit the ground hard.

Cyclops and Psylocke arrived on the scene a moment later, scanning the thick fog for him. "Where'd he land?" Cyclops asked.

"Somewhere over dere," Gambit pointed. The three split up, searching the area.

"Betsy, can you scan him?" Cyclops went on.

"I... I'm not sure," she answered, shaking her head. "He puts off a lot of static... Scott! Behind you!!"

Too late. Doug sprang up out of the mist behind Cyclops and jumped onto the man's back, reaching around to rip off his visor. Psylocke dove as Scott's uncontrolled optic blasts scythed through the area, slamming into both Gambit and Wolverine. Doug then grabbed Cyclops by the hair and yanked his head up, nailing Archangel on the fly and sending him plummeting to earth.

Cyclops jammed his eyes shut against the power, and reached around to try to throw Doug off. Doug, however, grabbed two of the wing-knives he'd gathered from his belt, and plunged them into the man's shoulders, just above the collarbones. Cyclops went down in a boneless flop, and Doug jumped clear. Gambit was trying to find his feet; his body-armor had mostly shielded him, but he still had the wind knocked from him. Wolverine was down again, and Psylocke was nowhere to be seen. That gave Doug maybe five seconds to end the simulation.

He lunged for the 'kill' button and slammed it with his fist.

Nothing happened. The exit stayed quite closed.

Eyes going wide, he slammed it again and again. "Come on, dammit, open!"

"You will find, Douglas," came Xavier's voice over hidden speakers, "that some battles are not so easily won."

Doug whirled as a hand grabbed his shoulder, and he found himself looking into Psylocke's violet eyes. The telepath's psychic knife burned from her hand.

"I'm sorry, Douglas," she said, then plunged the blade into his head.

Both of them screamed, then, as the psychic knife ripped into Doug's mind, flooding Psylocke with his thoughts, emotions and memories. Memories that quickly overwhelmed her in their intensity. Memories of death, and of life... of awakening to the world with no concept of self, in a strange body, trapped under six feet of packed earth... of struggles for identity, sanity stripped away as the two minds vied for dominance over the one form. Panic, desperation, betrayal... emotions more raw and primal than Psylocke had ever witnessed...

She could bear no more. The knife faded, and she staggered away, all but falling against the wall of the alleyway.

Doug, meanwhile, was retching on the ground. He could barely move. The mental assault had broken his hold over the Warlock-module, leaving his right leg numb and immobile.

Refusing to give in, though, he reached down and grabbed the leg, willing the technoid coating to reform, flowing back into his hand. Then, he carefully pulled off one of his gloves, and merged the module with himself.

Images whirled in front of his eyes as his mind snapped back into a partially-technoid state with this interface. Thoughts moving with speed and clarity, now, shutting down the pain, he made a desperate broadcast to another mind like his own. Warlock, I need your help!

Then the world was upended again as someone grabbed Doug by the front of his costume, lifted him up, and slammed him against the wall. Wolverine.

"I owe you for last time, bub," he growled, extending the outer two claws of his left hand and pinning Doug where he stood, the foot-long blades to either side of his neck.

"Well, I'd say dat's de end o' dat," came Gambit's voice, as he made a show of trying to stand and dust himself off nonchalantly.

"I don't think so," Doug said in a cracked voice, holding his hand up into Wolverine's field of view. Living circuitry pulsed over his fingers. "I'm immune to the Transmode Virus now, Wolvie. Want to see if you can say the same?"

There was a pause, as Wolverine seemed to be considering this. Doug felt a response from the presence he'd broadcasted to before, and his grin widened. "This isn't over yet. Warlock! Override!"

The environment suddenly blinked off and on repeatedly, as though the power was going out. Sparks flew from the control panel surrounding the 'kill' button, and the door beside it slid open. Three figures rushed into the room.

"Yo, hombre, you wanna put my buddy down before I shake those metal bones of yours loose?" said one.

Wolverine snarled at the newcomer. "Stay outta this, Rictor! This ain't your test!"

"What say I make it mine, then?" Ric grinned, bringing his arms up and hitting Wolverine full-force with his quake power. The X-Man was knocked to the floor, growling with pain and rage.

From behind Rictor, Wolfsbane bounded into the room in one of her transitional wolf-forms, and tackled Gambit before he could fire a card at them. In ten seconds, she had him pinned. Meanwhile, Mirage rushed the still-dazed Psylocke, keeping her at bay with her fear-projection powers.

Doug sank to the floor as the environment finally shut down entirely, leaving only the metallic walls and floor of the Danger Room itself. "I'm obliged for the assist, guys," he said, letting the technoid module reform in his hand.

"Are you okay, Doug?" Ric asked, extending a hand to help him stand.

"Oh, just peachy, Ric. I'm just going to sit down a second, okay?

Ric looked around the room, to see four X-Men unconscious and the other two immobilized. "Must'a been a good run," he nodded.

"An effective ploy, Douglas," Xavier reported from the control booth, "but an illegal one. This test was for you alone. Mirage, Wolfsbane, Rictor and Warlock, I will note this incident in your own final grades."

"Hey, don't give us that, Prof!" Doug yelled at the booth. "I won this stupid test! I hit the damned button!"

"That was not the true object of this examination, Douglas. Pressing buttons will win you few battles in this day and age. This exam tested your ingenuity and resourcefulness in a situation where there was no true way out. This is a situation you will eventually encounter. Danielle, Rahne, you can let them up now. And Warlock, kindly release your hold over Cerebro so that I may initiate the clean-up programs."

Rahne and Dani released their captives, and the two X-Men went to check on their fallen teammates.

"You changed the rules on me, Professor," Doug said, his voice suddenly quiet, but no less forceful. "I think it's only fair we changed the rules on you. And you're wrong. There's always a way out without fighting. You taught me that four years ago, when I joined the New Mutants."

"Those were simpler times, Douglas. Things have changed."

"Plus ça change, mon professeur, plus c'est la même chose."

Ric looked at him strangely, so Doug repeated it in English. "The more things change, the more they stay the same. There's always a way out. Mine was to call for help, and I don't think there was any shame doing so in a lethal situation like this."

"You were in no real danger, Douglas," the Professor went on. "The safety interlocks were all in place."

"Safety interlocks?" Doug hooted. "We're down here with real claws, real exploding cards, real optic blasts, real knives, real poison and real mind-rapes, and you're talking about safety interlocks? Don't make me laugh. You made this an injure-or-be-injured situation, and that just plain sucks. What kind of sadist d'you think I am? You think I enjoyed this?"

"Contrary to popular belief," Danielle added, "there's more to being a mutant than beating on people all the time."

"Aye," Rahne nodded. "You taught us that, too."

"We will discuss this at your final evaluation, students. For now, please clear the room."

The speakers cut out, leaving the room in silence, broken only by the sounds of the six X-Men leaving the room in various stages of consciousness. None even looked at the four younger mutants; they had done their job.

None except Psylocke, anyway. As she was about to follow the others out, she looked back at them. "I did say I was sorry, Douglas. I was just obeying orders."

"Save it for the Nuremberg Trials, Psylocke," Dani glared at her.

Elisabeth, lacking an appropriate response, simply left the room.

"This is a fine way t'be teachin' peace," Rahne sighed. "Are ye hurt badly, Douglas?"

"I'll live," Doug grunted, as Mirage and Rictor helped him to stand. "Where's Warlock, anyway?"

"He went up to the control booth to interface with the computers and shut 'em down," Ric explained, "while the three of us came down here to give you a more personal helping hand."

"I'd have loved to have seen the look on the Prof's face during that override," Dani grinned.

"Thanks again for the assist," Doug told his friends. "So... how did you all know I was in trouble?"

"We... ah... heard ye," Rahne answered.

"How do you mean?"

Dani shrugged with the shoulder that wasn't supporting Doug. "I don't know. When Psylocke did her little mind-screw, Warlock must've picked it up from you and broadcast it to us."

"That's... weird."

"Yeah, it is, but Rachel warned us there might be side-effects from the reconstruction."

"I s'pose that makes us more of a team than ever," Rahne put in.

"Yeah," said Doug in a low voice. "I guess it does..."

Saturday, 21 August 1993 3:57 pm PDT

Doug rolled down the passenger's-side window and let the wind blow through his hair. "There it is, guys!" he said, pointing. "The University of California, San Diego."

Rahne and Rictor scooted over in the back seat to get a look. "Not bad," nodded Ric. "How big's the campus?"

"Pretty big," Doug answered. "Those big buildings there are dorms. The actual classes are further in."

"So many trees," Rahne remarked with a smile. "How close to it will we be livin', Douglas?"

"Just right around the corner," Brynn smiled back at her, taking a left turn at a traffic light.

"I think I smell the ocean."

"Wouldn't doubt it, Ric," said Doug. "We're less than half a mile from it."

They passed house after house, to either side of the road, each of them seemingly larger and ritzier than the last. "You grew up in this neighborhood?" Ric asked, astounded.

"Be it ever so humble," Doug shrugged. "Welcome to La Jolla."

"I didn't know your folks were so loaded."

"Two successful lawyers," said Doug, absently. "Here's the place."

Brynn turned the car into a cobblestone driveway, and up to a tall gate: all that was visible through the thick trees. She rolled down her window and punched a code into a numeric keypad on a post, all but hidden amidst trees and creeping ivy. The gate slid to one side, and they drove in.

To either side of the driveway, tall trees grew, giving them the impression they'd just driven into a forest. The driveway curved to their left, and eventually led right up to the front of the house, where Brynn stopped the car.

The four stepped out, and just took a look around the place. Doug was smiling softly, taking it all in. He was home again. Rahne was enjoying the incongruously natural surroundings -- they couldn't even see any of the neighboring houses -- and Brynn was watching them all with a smile, waiting to see their reactions.

Ric, however, wandered about the front "yard," thunderstruck. He took a look down the driveway to see that it curved back out to another gate, then at the two-door garage, then at the carved-wood double-doors. "Lemme get this straight, Doug," he said, quietly. "This is a summer home?"

"Like I said, I grew up here," Doug explained. "Well, at least part of the way. When I was about eleven, my folks decided to move to New York, but they liked this place too much to sell it, so they kept it as a vacation house."

"I love all the trees," Rahne smiled. "It doesna' feel like we're in the city a'tall."

"Yeah, my folks liked privacy. The trees grow all around, except on the side that overlooks the ocean. Which is just as well, with all these mutants living here. You'll be able to 'wolf out' as much as you like, and no one'll ever know."

Rahne gave Doug a surprised glare, which Doug answered with a confused expression. Rahne motioned her head at Brynn.

"Oh," said Doug, grinning. "Don't worry, Rahne. She already knows."

"What, that you're mutants?" Brynn shrugged. "Yeah, I know. Doug told me about his... power a few years ago, before he even told his parents. Don't worry, I'm not going to tell anyone. Our family's good at keeping secrets."

"Yeah, they'd better be," Doug grinned, "what with Brightwind being stabled out at the ranch."

"That's right, I was meaning to ask," said Brynn, snapping her fingers. "When's Danielle supposed to meet us there?"

"Not for a few days, yet. She and Warlock are taking the long way."

"Which is pretty normal for Dani," Ric nodded.

"Well, let's go on in and get you settled," Brynn said then. "Doug and I'll show you around the place."

Friday, 13 August 1993 12:32 pm EDT

"I would like to take this opportunity to congratulate you both," said Xavier, studying the files on his desktop. "Even though, technically, you 'lost' your final examination sessions, you both performed remarkably well under pressure, with creative uses of your abilities, and a surprising flair for tactics. Against impossible odds, you persevered, and very nearly won, in both cases."

Seated in what had come to be known as the "debriefing chairs" opposite Xavier's desk, Danielle and Doug regarded their teacher steadily. For a moment, they glanced at one another, and exchanged nods.

"Danielle," Xavier went on, "although your 'Mirage' powers seemed to have atrophied during your eighteen months in Asgard, you have made excellent progress in the time since your return. I fully expect you will be back to your previous levels soon. In the meantime, your tactical and fighting skills have not diminished one whit since your time co-leading the New Mutants; in fact, they have increased dramatically, along with your physical and psychic strength." He let a smile escape him then as he let his gaze settle upon her. "While Valhalla is not the sort of exchange program I would have suggested to a student of mine, I cannot argue with the results. You have surprised and pleased me to no end with your advances."

Dani shifted in her seat, then glanced back at Doug.

"Douglas," the professor continued, "your progress has surprised me the most. Since your return with Warlock, and your separation, your dedication to your studies and your training has been exemplary. You have made advances I never would have expected. You have shown dedication to your own self-development as well, exploring new facets of your power to aid you in combat and tactics. And the new bond you seem to share with Warlock, combining your abilities with no risk to yourself, has made you a force to be reckoned with. I applaud your efforts, and your results."

Doug did not so much as blink at the professor during this speech.

Xavier leaned forward, folding his arms over his desk and returning the unwavering gaze of his two students. "It is thus with great pleasure that, upon your imminent graduation... Danielle, Douglas, I would like to offer you places with my two X-Men teams, as Field Lieutenants.

"Danielle, you will work with Storm's 'Gold' team, as tactician, and when necessary, as co-leader, second in authority only to Storm herself. Douglas, your powers, as well as your training with the Blackbird flight simulators, make you perfect for the role of pilot and tactician for the "Blue" team, aiding the team with your well-developed sense of strategy and battle finesse. Like Danielle, you will be second in authority only to Cyclops.

"I have spoken to the members of both teams, and they are looking forward to working alongside the both of you. Whether you know it or not, you have gained their respect, even as you have gained mine. I have never been more proud of you than I am now. Welcome, my students, to the X-Men."

There was a lengthy pause, in which Xavier sat back in his hoverchair and beamed at the two of them.

"With all due respect, sir," Doug then said, "I decline."

Xavier's smile flickered, then faded entirely, as he met Doug's very somber expression. "Pardon me, Douglas?"

"I decline, sir. I don't want to join the X-Men."

Doug had waited weeks to see the look of surprise that crossed the professor's features. Somehow, that made the bother of concealing the thoughts of his future plans for all these weeks all the more worthwhile.

"I see," said Xavier, slowly. "May I ask why?"

"It's quite simple, sir. I don't want to be a mutant hero."

"When last I saw you during my inadvertent sojourn into space, that was all you could think about."

"That's true, sir. But I've died again since then. It sort of changed my mind on that career choice. I'm going to be going home to California, to continue my education, just like I wanted to do before I ever found out I was a mutant. Don't think that I haven't appreciated the education I've received here, because I have. It's just that if I stay here, as one of the X-Men, especially as an authority figure, I'll never have the chance to go on with it. Being a hero would no doubt be a thrilling way to live, but frankly, I want better."

"You would turn your back on the dream, then?"

Doug blinked at the man. "That is in fact the last thing I intend to do. Sir, may I be blunt?"

"I imagine you will whether I permit it or not."

"Quite true."

"Then please, continue."

"The dream is dead, sir. Or rather, not quite dead, but certainly mortally wounded and lying in a pool of its own blood. And in the past few months, you've done as much to kill it as any of the 'bad guys' you fight. The X-Men aren't defenders of mankind anymore; they're a pair of strike forces that go out on the offensive and try to take out some of these threats before they even act. Now, correct me if I'm wrong, sir, but I've heard a lot about this Cable person that Sam hooked up with, and as I recall from the computer library, you condemned the man repeatedly for those very reasons. How can we learn to live in peace while we're training ourselves to kill?"

Xavier pinched the bridge of his nose between thumb and forefinger. "You speak as an idealist, Douglas. Would that the world would listen to idealists. I have walked this path as well, as you know."

"Yeah, I know. And now you've abandoned it. Someone's got to keep the dream alive, sir. Someone's got to make sure that that idealist's voice is heard."

"And you intend to do this by hiding from your powers in college?"

"It's better than hiding here. Living here, in this school, with nary a normal human sight, is just a reminder of how separate we are from the rest of the human race. Even Emma Frost lets her students associate with normal folks, for crying out loud. I'm tired of the separatist mentality."

The professor arched an eyebrow at him. "Emma Frost gathers young mutants as pawns, to be used for her own ends."

Doug smiled wryly. "I know that. So what separates you from her?"

Silence reigned for a while, and Dani broke it by clearing her throat. "I suppose you should know that I'm going with him," she said, grinning over at Doug. "Someone's got to keep the idealist from making an ass of himself."

"That'll be a full-time job in itself, Dani," Doug grinned back.

"Hey, I'm up for the challenge."

"I see..." Xavier said again, steepling his fingers in front of his face. "And what brought you to this conclusion, Danielle?"

Her expression changed, to one of almost distant remorse. "I spent a year and a half with the Valkyries, Professor. During that time, I escorted I don't know how many souls to Valhalla. All warriors who died in battle. Frankly, I'm sick of it. All of them thought it was so damned glorious, to be killed fighting for what they believed in. But in spite of how they died, the fact remained that they were dead. And after seeing that, I fully agree with Doug. I'd rather live for the cause than die for it. If I die, how can I go on fighting for what I believe? And who will ever know that I did?"

"I understand your hesitation," Xavier nodded. "This is your final decision, then?"

"Yes, it is," said Doug. Danielle nodded in assent.

"I imagine Warlock will be joining you?"

"Yes, sir. He always wants to learn more about human nature. We figure a college campus will be a great place to start."

Xavier nodded again. "If that is your decision, then I certainly shall not begrudge it. Though I had looked forward to seeing you among the ranks of the X-Men, I shall do nothing to force the issue. Rest assured that whichever school you should choose for your continued education, I will give my highest recommendations on your behalf. I look forward to your success in your chosen fields."

For a while, Doug and Dani could not answer. After all of the training sessions they'd shared with the man, they hadn't expected him to let them go quite so easily. "Thank you, sir," Doug nodded. "I appreciate that."

"I should point out, though," he went on, "that at their own final evaluation a short while ago, both Rictor and Wolfsbane accepted my offer to stay and join the X-Men."

Doug flinched, but kept his composure. "Then I'll wish them well."

"Indeed. Once again, Danielle, Douglas, I congratulate you on your graduation. Dismissed."

The two young mutants rose, looked first at one another, then at the professor, and walked out of the office, closing the heavy oaken door behind them.

Rahne and Ric had been waiting outside, listening. Ric stood a ways down the hall, his arms crossed, not looking too pleased. Rahne, however, had gone pale as a sheet.

"Are- are ye really leavin'?" she asked them in a tiny voice, her eyes wide.

"Yeah, Rahney," Danielle smiled sadly, tousling her friend's hair. "I can't stay here. You know that."

"But... I thought f'r certain ye'd stay! Ye... ye cannae just leave!"

"We have to, Rahne," Doug whispered. "I don't believe in this place enough to stay. Not anymore. I'm sorry."

Rahne bit her lower lip, almost hard enough to draw blood, and then turned away, made the shift into her wolf-form, and hurried down the hall, not looking back. Rictor stayed only long enough to glare at the both of them before he followed her.

Danielle sighed and looked back to Doug. "Tempus fugit."

"Ob-la-di, ob-la-da."

She chuckled. "Life goes on?"

"Something like that."

"Any regrets?"

Doug did not answer for a while, but then he nodded. "Plenty. But there's nothing I can do to change the past. What say we work on the future instead?"

"Sounds good to me."

Saturday, 21 August 1993 4:04 pm PDT

The first apparent detail of the house was that it was shaped like a wheel. The large front doors opened into a hallway that curved to the right or left, with complicated wood-paneling on the "outside" walls and huge glass panels comprising the "inside" walls. The "hub" of the wheel, encased by the glass walls and a couple of sliding doors, was a small, open-air courtyard, with a swimming pool, jacuzzi, and a couple of small trees.

"A pool," Ric said, looking through the huge glass plates. "I have officially died and gone to southern California."

"Actually," Brynn said with a frown, "the pool hasn't been filled for a long time now. It needs a little work first. Soon, though."

"Which way now, Douglas?" Rahne asked, peering down the curving corridors.

"Um, this way first," Doug replied, heading to the left. "I'll show you the important stuff." Almost immediately, he stopped, apparently reached into the outer wall, and opened a door that blended perfectly with the paneling.

"What is this, Dungeons and Dragons?" Ric laughed. "Do we have to roll to check for secret doors around here?"

"The architect who designed this place was one of my mother's oldest friends. Apparently she had a sense of humor." He opened the door further to show that it led into the garage. Parked inside were a gutted VW bug and a dusky yellow BMW. "Beauty," Doug grinned. "My folks had promised me their old car when I got my driver's license. I'm glad it's still here."

"How about the bug?" asked Ric.

"A summer project that never got finished. I'll have to get around to it soon."

"Hey, I know a thing or two about cars. I can give you a hand."

"That'd be cool."

The next door, also hidden amid the sculpted paneling, led to a dusty room with an old mahogany desk. "Dad's old office," Doug explained. "He used to do some work based out of the house. There's a little bathroom attached to it, and another room all full of his files."

Rather than a door, they next encountered a huge room, filled with couches and chairs, and sporting a large fireplace and plate-glass windows which gave a fantastic view of the cliffs and the ocean. "The living room," Doug said by way of explanation. "Third-best view in the house."

"Third-best?" Rahne gaped. She'd been captivated by that selfsame view.

"Yah. Keep going," Doug grinned, mostly for Brynn's benefit. Both of them seemed to enjoy wowing the others with the complexity of the house.

The circular inner corridor took them around to the halfway point, where they found the kitchen. "Kitchen with everything we could need, decent-sized pantry..."

"Which is empty, I think," Brynn interjected.

"Just as well," Doug went on. "I don't think I'd want to eat anything that's been there since last summer..."

"What the hell is this room?" Ric asked, quietly, having continued on past the kitchen. Here, another huge, rectangular room jutted off from the hallway, at least seventy feet long and thirty wide. The section closest to the hallway contained a simple dining table with six chairs, while the rear part of the room (which was elevated about two feet, with steps leading up to it) contained a few easy chairs, another couch, a huge projection TV, an upright piano, and another fireplace, this one circular, and situated in the middle of the area, near where the one "room" joined the other. Here, again, many of the walls were plate-glass, showing a large, tree-enclosed side yard to one side, and another splendid view of the cliffs and the ocean to the other.

Doug walked them through the "dining room," introducing it as such, and up the three steps into the rear of the chamber. "We never found a name for this one," Doug shrugged. "It's been known as the family room, the TV room, the den, the music room, or whatever. Second-best view in the house."

"Make that died and gone to Beverly Hills," Ric muttered.

Smiling, Doug pulled out the piano bench and took a seat, running through a couple of scales on the keyboard. All four winced at the sour tone. "Needs tuning, methinks," Brynn remarked.

"Nah, just needs the right kind of music." Doug played a ratty old saloon song, straight out of a western, then switched to something by the Mamas and the Papas. "Yep. I'll call for a piano tuner first thing in the morning. I wonder how long it's been since someone's played it?"

Rahne was standing at the windows, still mesmerised by the sight of the ocean. "Douglas, if this is the second-best view in the house, where d'ye find the first?"

"Ah. I'll show you." He stood up from the piano bench, and led them back through the dining room, to a small door situated near where that room joined the kitchen. "The deck," he said, opening the door. "Best view, bar none."

Doug, Rahne and Ric stepped out onto the wooden deck, while Brynn went to check the kitchen for something. The view, as advertised, was nothing short of spectacular. The deck was at the very rear of the house, as was the family room/den/whatever, and so there were no trees eclipsing the scene before them. Below them, the ground sloped down into the distant, high cliffs, with the ocean churning away beyond, the beach itself hidden from view. Even here, none of the neighboring houses could be seen. It was a place of complete privacy.

"Oh," Rahne said softly, almost melting as she leaned against Ric. "Douglas... 'tis beautiful."

"Wait 'til you see a sunset from here," Doug nodded. "They're all different every night..."

From inside came an exclaimed curse, followed by Brynn calling out. "Doug! Come here!"

"What's up, Brynn?" he called back.

"I think something's been breeding in the pantry!"

"Oops," Doug grimaced. "Be right back."

As Doug hurried back into the house, Rahne and Ric just stood out on the deck and watched the movements of the distant ocean. "Yeah," said Ric at length, "I could really get to like living here."

Rahne cast a questioning glance up at him. "Are ye sure?"

"Sure I'm sure. Great house, great view, even a pool. And you're here, of course," he grinned, his tone belying his sarcastic words.

"Aye, 'tis all wonderful, but... how will you and Douglas get along?"

Ric frowned at her. "Just fine. Doug an' me are buds."

"Aye, so ye've said, but... I remember ye did na' like him much at first..."

Ric hugged her. "All ancient history, babe."

Friday, 13 August 1993 3:47 pm EDT

"I want a word with you, Ramsey!"

Doug looked up from his computer to see Ric leaning against the frame of his open door, arms crossed, looking sullen and angry. "Fine. What is it?" Doug was in no mood to take Ric's attitude at a time like this.

"You outta your mind? What the hell do you think you're doing, takin' off like this?"

"Look, Ric, you wanted to join the X-Men. I didn't. You're staying. I'm leaving. Pretty simple, if you ask me."

"Doug, you're being an asshole," Ric snapped. "You, me, Rahne, Dani an' Warlock are a good team, and we can kick ass a million different ways. You wanna break that up?"

"No, I want to get on with my life," Doug replied. "If you're so fired up to keep the team together, why don't you come with us? You're invited. You know that."

"Go to college?" Ric asked, with a smarmy, sarcastic grin. "I don't need no stupid degree. Say what you want about the X-Men, man, but they do some good stuff for the world."

"My, my. And I thought you were too free a thinker to listen to propaganda."

Ric scowled, and took a couple of steps into the room. "Don't gimme that line of crap..."

"Then don't give me yours!" Doug shot back. "Ric, do whatever the hell you want to, okay? Join the X-Men, kick ass, have a blast. If that's what you want, go for it. But there's no way I'm sticking around to get killed, got me?"

"Hey, man, if it was just me, I'd say fine, take off. Do whatever. But Rahne's locked herself in her room crying, and I'm not lettin' you do that to her."

Doug's eyes widened, and he nodded. "I see. So this is about her, then?"

"Hey, don'chu fuckin' talk about her like that," Ric snarled, hearing the emphasis Doug had placed on the word "her."

"No, I'm gonna talk about her, alright. Rahne's a big girl, now -- old enough to decide whatever she wants. If she wants to stay here, that's great. But have you ever considered, Ric, that she might've just decided that so she could be with you? You've been making it no secret that you wanted to join the X-Men. What choice did you give her?"

"Don't screw with me, Ramsey," Ric warned him. "You're still pissed off that she dumped you for me, aren't you?"

"Let me tell you something here, Ric," Doug said, his voice suddenly like thin ice -- smooth, placid and cold, but with something deeper and more deadly underneath. "I cared about Rahne, and I still do. I was in love with her the day I died, and I was still in love with her the day I came back. The first thoughts Warlock and I had when we reanimated were of her. So yeah, I was a little put off when I found out that she'd gotten together with you while I was dead. But when she chose to stay with you, I didn't argue, because she's always been loyal to the man she loves. That's you.

"But you're right, I am pissed off. You take advantage of her, you abuse that loyalty, and you don't let her think for herself. You treat her like some kind of goddamn pet, and to Hell with what she wants or thinks!"

Having heard this, Ric took one breath, then charged Doug, lifting him out of his seat and slamming him against the wall. "You son of a bitch!" he growled. "That's not true, and you know it!"

"Go on, Ric, take a swing," Doug snarled back. "You know that's what you want! I swear, you'll make a great X-Man; you think just like they do! With your fists and your gonads!"

Ric cocked his fist back to take that swing, but a shout from the doorway brought him short. "RICTOR?!"

They both looked round to see Rahne standing in the doorway, Warlock standing behind her in his latest human form. From what Doug could gather from Warlock's mind-signals, he had been listening to them, and had gone to fetch Rahne when things had begun to look messy.

When neither of the boys replied, Rahne went on. "What in the name o' Holy Mary're ye doin'?!"

Ric very slowly let go of Doug's shirt, and tried to nonchalantly smooth his appearance. "Me an' Ramsey were just havin' a little chat."

She shook her head, eyes wide. "You were fightin'..!"

"Look, Rahne, baby, I can explain, okay?"

"No, dinnae explain!" she shouted. "I dinnae think I want t'know!"

With one last furious glare, she stalked off down the hallway. Warlock looked to Doug for confirmation before he followed her.

Ric turned back to Doug, fury burning in his eyes. "Happy now, asshole?" he scowled.

"Blow me," Doug said, very softly.

Ric shoved him against the wall one last time, then left the room, muttering curses under his breath.

Doug picked up his chair from where it had been knocked over, and once again sat down in front of his computer.

He wanted to go on typing, but his hands were trembling.

Saturday, 21 August 1993 4:26 pm PDT

Once the situation in the pantry had been resolved (by resolving to leave it closed until they could go out and get some bug spray), Doug and Brynn continued the tour around to the other half of the house.

"This door goes to the side yard," Doug said, indicating another of the 'secret' doors. "This next one is the master bedroom," he went on, pushing the next door open. "Got its own bathroom and shower."

"I guess you'll take this one?" Ric asked, looking the room over.

"Nah. I want my old room back. You all can fight over this one if you want."

Next along the hallway was a "spoke" corridor that led away from the central hub. Doug pointed further down the hall to another nondescript section of wall. "The door to the laundry room's over there somewhere. Anyway, this is the part we should be interested in. Follow me."

The quartet went down the hallway. Rictor and Rahne noted framed photo-collages, apparently of Doug's family, hung on the walls, their frames collecting dust. Rahne noticed a picture of two children mounted on horses that looked enormous by comparison, and with a start, recognized them as Douglas and Brynn.

"Another bathroom," Doug went on, indicating a door to his left. "If nothing else, this place has got lots of plumbing. This is another door to the laundry room, here to the right."

Then the hallway seemed to open up, with one door in front of them, two to the right, and a large room to the left. "Four bedrooms and another nameless vague family room," Doug explained. He indicated the doors to the right. "Two bedrooms here, with a bathroom between them. And this one," he said, placing one hand over the first door, "is mine. Y'all can decide the others amongst yourselves. That one," here, he pointed to the door at the end of the hall, "shares a bathroom with the one over there," he pointed to a door in the whatever-room, which apparently led to yet another bedroom.

"Five bedrooms for a family of three?" Ric asked.

"Guest rooms," Doug shrugged.

"In a family like ours, we tend to visit each other a lot," Brynn explained. "Left over from our Irish-meets-Dixie heritage, I guess."

They proceeded into the nameless room, which, like the previous family room, had a large television, a couple of couches, some beanbag chairs, and a stereo (admittedly, only a tape deck). There was also a kitchenette section, with a small sink and electrical stove. Behind a set of curtains was a large sliding glass door which led out into the expansive side yard.

Ric flopped down into one of the beanbag chairs. "Man," he said. "You know, we could live in just this section of the house, and never have to leave it. We've got everything we need."

"Actually," Brynn remarked, "when Brian, Kellen and I used to house-sit the place, that's exactly what we did. Be a shame to waste the rest of the house, though."

"Well," Doug said, with a brisk, deep breath, "that does it for the nickel tour. Warlock'll be here with most of the stuff in a few days, but there's no saying we can't start moving in now."

With that, they retrieved their baggage from Brynn's car and proceeded to stake their claims. Rahne ended up in the master bedroom (having won it from Ric in a game of scissors/paper/rock), Doug and Ric got the two adjoining rooms, and they reserved the room at the end of the hall for Dani, and the one attached to the rec room for Warlock, should he need one. Though they didn't have much to unpack yet, with a bit of liberal dusting and rearranging of furniture, the place was already starting to look like a home.

Saturday, 14 August 1993 11:13 am

Doug punched in his code number on the security keypad and waited for the mansion's front door to open. It completely failed to do so.

Had Doug been on the outside, rather than the inside, this would have been a lot less disconcerting. The idea of having a pass code to leave the school was bad enough -- the fact that this code did not seem to be working was nothing short of maddening. As in all circumstances of this type, he first tried re-entering the code, and when it again failed to work, he began to grow annoyed.

"I'm sorry, Douglas," came a voice from across the reception room, "but I'm afraid the pass-codes have been disabled for the time being."

Doug looked over to see the professor emerging from an adjoining room in his hoverchair, Cyclops at the man's shoulder. He briefly entertained the thought that the two of them had been laying in wait for this ambush. "I'm sorry, I wasn't aware of that. Can I go out now?"

"Doug, there've been some problems," Cyclops answered, stepping forward and trying (Doug imagined it was an effort) to give him a sympathetic look. "The Acolytes are on the warpath again, and we've had to close the mansion. With any luck, this'll blow over soon, but until then, we have to keep a lid on outside activity. We can't let you go out alone."

"Fine, I'll see if Warlock or Dani wants to come."

"That goes for smaller groups as well, Douglas," Xavier replied. "We can't risk you. You would be too inviting a target for the Acolytes."

Doug crossed his arms, a sick feeling coming over him. "Sir, the three of us are due to leave in a week. We've got school coming up, you know, and we need to go through late registration. We can't afford to be stuck here."

"I have to admit that this remains a possibility," Xavier conceded, "but rest assured that the X-Men are doing everything in their power to counteract this menace and..."

"Look," Doug said, simply, "I'll take my chances. It's a Saturday afternoon, I want to go see my mother again before I start to pack, I've got some travel supplies to pick up, and an old friend to check in with. If the Acolytes come, I'll run away; I'm good at that."

"Old friend?" Xavier asked, arching one eyebrow. "And who might this be?"

"None of your goddamn business, sir," Doug replied, but Xavier had already read the answer in his thoughts.

"That is out of the question, Douglas," the professor said, evenly.

For a while, Doug was silent, but then, in the quiet, dangerous voice they had come to expect from him, he spoke. "And why's that?"

"Any contact with the Hellfire Club at this point in time is a potential security risk. I will not allow you to place the X-Men in jeopardy."

There was another long pause, after which Doug placed his hand in the pocket of his trenchcoat. When he pulled it out again, it was coated with techno-organic circuitry.

Before his teachers' eyes, Doug placed one finger to the keypad lock, interfaced with it, and in a fraction of a second, the door swung open.

"I'll be back," said Doug. His face was even more grim than before.

As he turned to go, Cyclops reached to intercept him, but Doug knocked his hand away in a practiced martial-arts maneuver. "Don't start with me."

He got as far as the front steps before Xavier's mental voice brought him to a halt. *Forgive me, Douglas, but I cannot allow you to risk yourself and others this way.*

And then Doug felt it: the professor's palpable psychic presence entering his mind and trying to bend his will. For a moment, it worked, but then, almost on an instinctive level, Doug clenched his fist and intensified the bond between himself and the Warlock-module under his control. This broke the telepathic hold, as the professor could not "see" through the psychic static this merge created.

Doug turned and looked back at Xavier. "You son of a bitch," he whispered, shaking his head. Then, he turned and walked down the path toward the front gates.
 
 

A few hundred yards down the road that led away from the school, a truck pulled up next to Doug. "Hey, stranger, need a lift?"

"Hi, Forge," Doug said, looking up as the X-Men's resident 'builder' opened the passenger's-side door. "Um, lemme guess. You're either here to take me back to the school, or you're my adult supervision and armed escort, yes?"

The indian shrugged. "Look at it however you like, Doug. The offer for a ride's still open, though."

Doug grabbed onto the side of the truck and pulled himself up into the cab. "Thanks, Forge."

"No sweat." Once Doug was buckled in, he downshifted and got back onto the road. "Things're pretty tense right now."

"You're telling me."

"So you, Dani and Warlock are really leaving, eh?"

"If we can," Doug said, sarcastically. "The outside world's looking better and better every day."

"Well, I can't say that we won't miss you around here. I was looking forward to seeing the kinds of things we could come up with together, you and I."

"How do you mean?"

"Well, my power with building things, mixed with your power with computers and languages... We'd make a pretty good team."

"Did the prof ask you to say that?"

Forge gave him an affronted look. "No. I asked because I meant it, and because I'd much rather see you using your powers for something other than the 'hurt patrols.'"

Doug shook his head. "I'm sorry, I should've known better. But I swear, living in that house is making me paranoid."

"Happens to the best of us, Doug."

"Have I thanked you lately for helping me and Warlock out back when we were merged?"

Forge shrugged. "Nothing to it. I just wish I could have taken the credit for separating you."

Doug nodded, cracking a smile. "Tell you what. If you're still interested in seeing what we can accomplish after I get my degree, look me up."

"Fair enough," Forge grinned in reply. "Hey, I'll tell you what. If you want, I can supply you and Dani with some of those body-armor skinsuits I developed for the X-Men awhile back, just on the off-chance that you ever need to do something heroic. They never use 'em anymore, and I've got plenty to spare."

Doug nodded again. "I'd appreciate that. Just in case."

After a pause, Doug spoke in a low voice. "Forge, I can trust you, can't I?"

The builder gave him a questioning look. "You know that, Doug."

"Yeah, but it might sound a little... mutinous."

Forge thought about this. "A little mutiny never hurt anyone. Go ahead."

"I think this 'house arrest' over the Acolytes is a sham."

There was another lengthy pause. "That's a pretty potent accusation, Doug," Forge said at length.

"Look, I'm serious. Think about it; if he can keep us around for a couple of weeks more, we won't be able to go to UCSD, like we'd planned, because we'll have missed registration. And I'm sure he'd just suggest we spend another semester at Xavier's, to give them more time to convince us to stay."

Forge gave Doug as searching a look as traffic allowed. "First off, that sounds awfully presumptuous, thinking he'd be going to all that risk and trouble to keep you around. Second, it's just plain paranoia."

Doug sighed. "I wish it were. When I interfaced with the keypad lock on the front door, though, I found that the only access codes to be deactivated were mine, Warlock's and Danielle's."

They drove in silence for a while after that. "That doesn't make any sense, though," Forge said at last. "Surely you'd notice eventually, especially if no one else seemed to be affected by the siege."

"Not necessarily. The X-Men are pretty much obedient enough that all he needs to do is tell them to stay, and they will. But out of all of the people in the mansion, the three of us would be the most likely to disobey. We're security risks. But you're right. He could have hidden it a lot better. He should have known that Warlock or I'd try to break out, and find out what he'd done in the process. Just like I did."

"I don't know, Doug, this sounds a bit too weird for Professor X."

"Frankly, Forge, that man is nothing like the Professor X I remember from my first months here, or from our outer-space adventure, even. I don't know him anymore, and I don't know if I'd put anything past him now."

For the rest of the drive into the city, neither mutant spoke another word. There didn't seem to be anything else to add.

Saturday, 21 August 1993 5:34 pm PDT

At length, after getting as settled as they could (given that most of their belongings were probably somewhere in Ohio with Dani and Warlock by this time), the three mutants and one human pondered their next move. Ric suggested a run to the supermarket to stock the kitchen (and get some bug spray for the pantry), and Brynn volunteered to play taxi again. Rahne and Ric both elected to come and help pick things out, but Doug stuck around the house, saying that he had to make a couple of phone calls.

When the three were gone, Doug took the cordless phone from the living room and prowled the house with it, getting himself re-accustomed to the surroundings. For all his role as the guide in front of the others, Doug felt more than a little weird being back in his childhood home again after all these years. At times it had seemed as though everything had changed during the years he had been dead. This place, however, was still just as he remembered it, and that was at the same time reassuring and eerie.

He dialed his mother's new number in Manhattan, reminding himself to thank Brynn, when she got back, for making arrangements to have the phone lines re-installed before they had arrived. He had a great many things to thank his cousin for, really.

The phone at the other end picked up with his mother's answering machine. "Hi. This is Sheila McAudry. Please leave a message at the tone. <BEEP!>"

"Hi, Mom, it's me. Just wanted to call and let you know that-"

The machine beeped again as his mother picked up the phone and shut it off. "Hi, baby! How was the trip?"

"Hi, Mom. The trip was just fine."

"Was Brynn there to meet you on time?"

"Yep. We've been getting settled. She, Ric and Rahne have gone out grocery shopping, so I stuck around to call and let you know that we got here okay."

"Good! How does the place look?"

"Pretty good. We need to do some major-league dusting and bomb the pantry, but no problems."

"Great. Tell Brynn to tell Papa that I'll be giving them a call to ask how the big show went, okay?"

"Okay. Uh... Mom, have you heard from Dad lately?"

Sheila snorted. "Heard from his attorneys, anyway."

Doug cursed mentally. "I'm sorry."

"What for? He's the one being a jerk, not you. I almost pity him. He's never been as good in court as I am, and he knows it."

"No, I mean... you know, it's weird. I've seen movies, books, even after-school specials and everything, trying to convince kids that it's not their fault when their parents decide to get a divorce. But this time, it really is my fault."

"Sweetie, things were rocky between your father and me long before we found out you were a mutant. His going ballistic about it was just the final straw. He's just not the man I married anymore."

She didn't even mention the fact that Doug had been dead, he noticed. To date, even after having seen him buried, she refused to believe it, thinking instead that he had been held prisoner by some nefarious mutant super-villain for all this time. "I wish I could talk to him, is all."

"Give him space for a while, baby. Maybe after that, he'll be ready to listen."

Doug doubted that, but didn't want to say so. "Thanks, Mom. Look, I need to get back to unpacking. I'll call back later, okay?"

"Okay! You kids take care out there. But then, I guess you've been taking care of each other for years, now, right?"

Doug grinned. "Something like that. Thanks, Mom."

"Good luck, baby. 'Bye!"

"'Bye."

He switched off the phone and paced the circular main hallway for a while, thinking about his father's rejection, his mother's understanding, and wishing he could make some sense of it all.

He passed by the still-open door to his father's office, almost expecting to see the man seated at his desk, hard at work as always. He'd look up, smile, and say "Hi, son," or something else fatherly, then maybe later in the day go out and play catch with him in the side yard...

Doug sat down at the desk and put his feet up on it, knowing full well that his father never allowed it. He dialed the phone again, and the soft ringing was all that broke the silence of the house.

"Allô?"

"Hi, Angie. It's me."

Saturday, 14 August 1993 2:51 pm EST

Doug hesitated several times before taking the street he needed. He in fact walked around the block at least four times before he finally gathered his resolve and walked down to the cafe. It was still there, just as he remembered it, sandwiched between an occult bookstore and a hat shop. At the front doors, he paused and listened to Jean-Jacques Goldman playing through the tiny speakers outside, and then took a deep breath and stepped inside.

He didn't recognize the person at the front counter, but smiled at her just the same. "Bonjour," he said, quietly.

She nodded and smiled back. "May I help you, m'sieu?"

"Just looking for someone," he replied.

The place hadn't changed, even with the new person pouring the coffee and tea. It was still pleasantly cozy against the uncommonly cold August day, and Doug took off his trenchcoat and hung it on the rack near the front door. At last, having stalled long enough, he turned to his left and slowly stepped in between several unoccupied tables and booths, counting them. Theirs had been the fifth. Even though they'd only shared a handful of these weekend meetings, he still remembered.

And apparently, so did she. She was there, just as she had been almost three years before. She looked a little older, of course, and her crowning glory of deep red hair was braided -- he imagined it would easily reach her knees unfurled. Her long, severe, distinctly European face held an expression of concentration, and that attention was focused on the black silk kerchief laid before her on her table, upon which she placed the cards, one by one, in a pattern Doug recognized as the Celtic Cross.

He stopped next to the booth. She was so wrapped up in her reading of the tarot that she hadn't noticed his arrival. He waited until she placed the last card down, then spoke. "Bonjour, ma chère."

Marie-Ange Colbert looked up, and froze at the sight of him. For the longest time, she did not move, nor make a sound, and simply stared at him, her grey eyes growing wider. At last, she stood up, took a halting step toward him, and brought her hands up, cupping his face, as if to be certain that he was real, and not just an image.

"It's you..." she whispered.

Doug nodded, reaching up to take her hands. "Yeah, it's me, Angie..."

She looked into his eyes -- he was finally as tall as she -- and her own filled with tears. "Douglas," she said, her voice cracking.

They held each other until her shaking subsided. It was all Doug could do keep her from falling.

Rahne finished off the last of her Danger Room foes, and ended the program. She had to vacate the room for the next scheduled workout, but didn't really want to. Twenty minutes of mock-combat hadn't made her forget a thing.

With a heavy sigh, she shifted back into her human shape and exited, grabbing a towel from a shelf as she entered the ladies' locker room. She rubbed her face a few times to wipe away the sweat, and tried to concentrate on just that -- anything to get her mind off of everything else.

As she sat down on the bench in front of her locker, though, every one of the memories came back. She couldn't keep them away. Everything had seemed so perfect! Douglas and Warlock were alive, Dani was back from Asgard, she herself had regained her humanity and won free of the control of the Genoshans, and Rictor had finally come out of hiding and tracked her down. She'd hoped that Douglas would not be crushed that she and Rictor had committed themselves to one another, and to her surprise, he hadn't. He and Ric had gotten along in spite of everything, and the five of them had been a team, again in spite of everything.

And now three were leaving, and Ric and Douglas had been fighting, and Dani couldn't be convinced to stay, and the professor was acting strangely, and...

"Rahney?"

She looked over as Ric sat beside her on the bench. She was so surprised by his presence that she was, for a time, robbed of a response. "Oh..! Ye canna come in here, Ric. This is the ladies' side."

"I know, but I wanted to talk to you soon as you finished. I've been doin' some thinking."

When he paused, she picked up the conversation. "About what?"

"About joinin' the X-Men. Is... that what you really wanna do?"

"Well... don't you?"

"That's not what I asked, Rahne... Is it what you want?"

She took his hand. "I want what you want, Ric," she said, gently.

Ric put his free hand to his face and sighed. "Okay, lemme try this another way." He took a deep breath and went on, but could not meet her eyes. "I know how shook up you've been lately, about the others leaving when we're stayin' here. But I just wanted you to know... Baby, if you don't wanna stay with the X-Men, I understand. And if you wanna go with Doug, and Dani, and 'Lock, and go back to school, well... I guess I'll understand that, too. I want you to do what's best for you, okay?"

Here, at last, he looked up into her eyes, which were wide and unblinking. "D'ye mean it, Ric?" she whispered.

He nodded, silently.

"D'ye truly mean it..?"

He nodded again, with a soft snort. "'Course I do. Is that what you want, Rahne? To go to school with them?"

After a long while, she nodded. "Aye."

"Okay," he whispered. That was it for them, he realized. He would certainly miss her when she went.

She smiled and leaned forward to embrace him, but checked herself. "Och, I'm still sweatin'."

"Aye dinnae min', lassie," he said, mimicking her accent and hugging her.

When they broke, she looked up at him, her eyes shining. "Lets go an' tell 'em we're comin'," she smiled.

Ric almost asked "Whaddya mean 'we?'" but then realization hit. She hadn't thought that he was letting her go: she thought that he was changing his own mind about staying. "Uh, Rahne..."

Her smile faded to puzzlement. "Aren't ye comin' too, Ric?" she asked him.

He was too stunned to answer for a while. After having resigned himself to breaking up with her, she didn't even seem to know that he had done it. Then he realized that she was willing to stay with the X-Men out of love for him. She believed in them. Could he do any less for her?

"Yeah, of course I'm goin'," he nodded.

The smile returned to her eyes. "Let's go an' tell Dani. She'll be so excited!"

Ric allowed her to pull him to his feet, and he followed her out, still not entirely sure what he'd gotten himself into.

Marie-Ange and Doug sat down after a while, partly to be able to look each other in the eye, but mostly because they were having trouble standing up. Keeping one hand joined across the table, they just looked at each other in silence, wiping their eyes (Doug, too, had begun to cry; he hadn't known what an emotional wrench this reunion would be).

At last, she shook her head. "But you died. I know you did. After Mam'selle Frost told us about it, I cast for you a dozen times, always with the same results. You were dead."

Doug nodded. "I know. It may sound weird, but I was."

"Then how..?" She could not even finish the question.

"It's complicated... It had to do with me and Warlock, and the way we used to... merge."

"Je comprends," she said, slowly. "It is still hard to believe, though, even with you here." She gripped his hand more tightly.

"I know. Sometimes, when I wake up in the morning, it just hits me that I'm Waking Up In The Morning, and I don't know what to think."

"Be grateful."

"Oh, I am, believe me."

"So am I," she smiled. "I missed you, Douglas. How long have you been... alive, then?"

"A few months. I'm sorry I never contacted you before, but things have been tight at Xavier's."

She nodded, accepting his apology by simply dismissing it. "So I've heard. We've not had contact with your school for many months."

Doug noticed the use of "we." "You're still at the Massachusetts Academy, then?"

She nodded. "Oui. I am working on my Master's degree."

His eyes got big for just a moment. "Really? And you're what... nineteen now?"

"Twenty in November," she reminded him. "I have been... busy."

"I should say so. I'll be lucky to catch up."

"Will you be continuing school, then?"

Doug looked down at the cards on the table for a moment. "That's part of the reason I came here today."

"Go on," she prompted him when he stopped.

"I'm going to be leaving for California in a week," he said at last, getting the words out in a rush. "Warlock and Danielle -- you remember Mirage, right? -- well, the three of us are going out there to live together and go back to school. We're sick of things at Xavier's, and we want to live a peaceful life for a while."

There was a silence, and Marie-Ange did not even blink. "A week?"

"Yeah. We have to get there in time for registration."

Now it was she who looked away. "How ironic..." she said, softly. "After nearly three years, you come back into my life, only to tell me that you'll be leaving it again in a week."

"Angie," Doug said, perhaps more forcefully than he meant, "that's not what I meant to do. I..." He broke off, as all of a sudden, the very idea seemed ludicrous.

"Go on," she repeated.

"I wanted to ask you if you'd like to come with us. We'd be glad to have you, and I'm sure you could do your Master's work out there..." he broke off again, suddenly embarrassed by his words. "I'm sorry," he went on. "I must sound like an idiot."

"Perhaps," she replied. When Doug looked up at her, she had a soft, almost sad smile for him. "But all the same, I feel flattered. And even tempted. I only wish that I could say yes."

"Really?"

She nodded. "If you'd come to me with a question like this one when last we met, I would have probably said yes with little hesitation. But a lot has changed since then. I have responsibilities to the Academy now, Douglas. I teach the newest of the Hellions, if you can believe that. I will be assisting in several Music, Art, and Religious Studies classes, and I will be the assistant director and concertmistress of the orchestra."

"Geez," he said, with a low whistle. "And when will you sleep?"

"Between classes," she smiled. "It will be worth it. At the end of the year, I shall be able to enter the two-year PhD program, and then, if I keep my grades perfect, I know of at least seven universities interested in granting me tenure as a professor, immediately after graduation."

"Just out of curiosity... Have you gotten a single 'B' yet?"

"Non. I'm very proud of my grades."

"And well you should be. Damn... You're going to take some living up to."

Her smile widened. "So is that the reason for your animosity earlier in our lives? You were competing with me?"

"Hey, the way my folks pushed me, I wanted to be the only kid on the planet with a 4.0."

She sighed. "I wish that you could stay, or that I could leave."

"I'll write to you," he promised. "I'll even call you when I can."

"And I shall write back. I enjoy writing letters... and I haven't the opportunity often, anymore."

He nodded, grateful that there would be at least some contact between them. "So... you want to be a professor?"

"Oui, bien sûr! I have always wished to teach, and to give back some of what Mam'selle Frost and my other teachers have given me. Et toi?"

"Yeah, I want to do the same. In fact... that's another story. You see... Dani and Warlock and I have this plan... You might find it somewhat interesting."

She arched her eyebrows. "Oh?"

After a pause, he grinned. "You know, it just occurred to me that we never got the chance to do that follow-up reading to the last one you gave me. Do you think now would be a good time?"

"Oui," she nodded, gathering up her cards from the table. "How about this: I shall prepare your reading while you tell me about your... plan."

"That's fair."

They shared the reading, they shared tea, and they shared stories well into the afternoon. Both of them had a lot to catch up on.

Saturday, 21 August 1993 6:49 pm PDT

Doug's conversation with Marie-Ange took him all over the house with the cordless phone, partly reacquainting himself, and partly describing it to her. "I hope you get to come and see us sometime," he sighed. "You know, during one of those weekends when you don't have a concert, or tests to correct, or missions to go on, or training sessions to run, or lesson plans to make, or..." he stopped at the sound of her laughter.

"I fear those weekends will be in short supply, mon cher," she sighed back in the midst of a laugh. "I shall try, though. But myself alone? I wish I could at least tell Jennifer and Sharon about you. Perhaps the three of us could pay you that visit. I'm sure Sharon would love to see Rahne again."

"I'll -- ah -- come out of the closet to them later, okay? For now, let's just keep this between you, me, and I guess Miss Frost."

"La maîtrise? Pourquoi?"

"Well, I figure she already knows by now, from your thoughts. You may as well tell her, I suppose, and get it out of the way."

"Alright, if you wish."

A commotion from the front doors announced that the shoppers had returned. "Whoops, they're back."

"Mon Dieu, how long have we been talking, anyway?"

None of the clocks in the house were set, so Doug checked his watch. "A little over an hour, looks like. I'd better go."

"Oh, ma pauvre... Next time write to me; it's less expensive."

"I will. I always have plenty of stories to tell."

"Bon. I look forward to hearing them. Be well, Douglas."

"Take care of yourself, Angie."

"Hey, Doug!" Ric called from down the hall. "C'mon out and give us a hand, okay?"

"Just a second!" he called back, placing his hand over the receiver. "I gotta go, kid. Give Sharon a hug from... well, from you, I guess."

"I will," she laughed. "Au revoir!"

"Au revoir, cherie."

"Yo, Doug!" Ric called again, coming around the bend just as Doug switched off the phone and folded down the antenna. "You coming, chamaco?"

"Yeah, just a second." He set the phone down on the kitchen counter and followed Ric back to the door, where Brynn and Rahne had already begun unloading.

Friday, 20 August 1993 11:23 pm EDT

Doug woke up quickly, sitting bolt upright with a scream of horror. Another nightmare, this one the worst yet. He'd been living on his nerves for the entire week, and these dreams weren't helping a bit. In every one, he had the unrivaled opportunity to see Dani, Warlock, Rahne and Ric killed brutally by one mutant faction or another before it was his turn. With his simple, mental power, he was as helpless as ever, and the menaces, from the Mutant Liberation Front, to the Reavers, to the Hellfire Club, to the so-called Friends of Humanity, to the Acolytes... He tried to lead the others, but choked on the responsibility every time, leading them instead to their deaths. Alone, the five of them were no match for the mutant world...

What was worst of all was that Doug didn't believe this for a second. They were strong, the five of them (now that there were five), and could stand up to just about anything. And they were going west so they wouldn't have to, so why were the dreams persisting?

"FrienDoug?"

Doug switched on his light to see Warlock extending ocular sensors toward him. The technoid had been "dormant," recharging himself through a wall outlet, when Doug's cry had apparently awakened him.

"Sorry, 'Lock, didn't mean to wake you."

"Observation: FrienDoug showing indications of substantial anxiety."

"Yeah. Another stupid dream."

Warlock slowly began to remold himself, from the dormant block-form on Doug's shelf, to his new human shape, sitting in Doug's chair. "Self cannot fully register concept of dreams. Closest analogy would be sensory hallucination brought about by failing systems or loss of power."

"Judging by these last nights, you aren't missing much."

Warlock cocked his head to one side, looking for all the world like a black Commander Data from Star Trek. "Self noted high, erratic brainwave readings uncommon to dormant human lifeforms."

"Yeah, that's what a dream is."

"Clarification: Readings were unusual even by standard sleep patterns of self's humanform friends."

Doug yawned, trying to clear his mind. Indeed, there was something strange: an almost tangible presence hovering just out of reach. "What do you mean, 'Lock? This isn't a regular dream?"

"Self remains uncertain. However, self feels similar disturbance in thought patterns of selfriends Dani, Rahne and Rictor."

Doug had almost forgotten about that. During the reconstruction of months passed, the five of them, all transmoded, had been separated and remade as human beings, the technoid aspects of each being pulled out by Phoenix (a powerful telepath/telekinetic/cosmic avatar/all around nice young woman) to reform Warlock. As a result, there was still something of a bond between the five, particularly between Doug and Warlock, and Warlock himself, having been merged with each of them at one time or another, still had some minor, subconscious contact with them. If Warlock said he was detecting strong, erratic brainwaves from them, it was probably serious.

"Let's go wake 'em up and figure this out," Doug said, kicking off his covers and putting on a pair of sweat pants.

They gathered in Danielle's room, which, now that she was mostly packed and ready to go, was clean and uncluttered for maybe the first time since her return. All but Warlock were a little frazzled, but Rahne was the worst off. She sat huddled next to Rictor, trying not to shake.

"It was horrible," she was saying. "I saw all of ye die, again and again, each time worse than the last."

"It's okay, babe," Ric whispered, holding her head against his chest. "It was just a dream."

"I don't know about that, Ric," Doug said, darkly.

Ric gave them a collective glare, as if to keep them from scaring Rahne any further. "It was just a dream," he repeated.

"Uh huh," Dani nodded. "And all five of us had it?"

"Correction: four," Warlock put in. "Self does not dream."

"Are you sure?" Dani asked him. "I mean, it could be that you're the one having this dream, and you're transmitting it to the rest of us."

"Selfstatus diagnostics show no sign of outgoing transmissions which could precipitate such dreams, frienDani."

"Maybe..." Rahne managed, swallowing hard, "only one of us is havin' the dream, but Warlock's pickin' it up and sendin' it t' the rest of us, not knowing he's doin' it. Is that possible, 'Lock?"

"Doubtful, friendRahne. Self was in dormant form, recharging."

"Well, what do you think, Doug?" Dani asked. "You've been pretty quiet."

Doug laced his fingers, resting his hands on his crossed legs. "Well, think about this, then. We're all having bloody, gory dreams about how we can't make it on our own, and how we won't be safe from our enemies alone. And these dreams might very well be coming from outside. I don't like the sound of that at all."

Rahne gasped sharply, and Ric and Dani both tensed. "He wouldn't," Ric said in a low voice.

"Wanna bet?" Dani replied, giving him a serious look.

"The man hasn't been able to convince us in our waking hours," Doug whispered. "Maybe he figured he could get us in our sleep..."

He let the idea hang in the air between them, as they all considered it. Living in the mansion had been a bizarre experience over the last week, living with the others through a form of tense, false cordiality, all but waiting for the next shoe to drop. Now, it looked as though it had. Doug found himself wishing they'd left long before.

"So what d'we do?" Rahne asked the group.

"Let's kick his ass," Ric growled.

Doug shook his head. "No, let's just finish packing, and get out of here first thing in the morning, like we'd planned. Let's not give him the satisfaction of starting a confrontation."

"Assuming it was him," Dani reminded him. "Let's keep our options open, okay?"

"Right," Doug nodded, though he didn't look convinced. "Hey, Warlock, do you think you could shield the brainwaves with anything short of a full merge?"

"Possible, frienDoug."

"Okay. If any of us need to sleep, can you keep us covered?"

"Self will try."

"Excellent. Well, let's get back to work, then..."

By morning, tensions were riding high, from lack of sleep as much as anything else. Warlock had formed most of his surplus matter into a very convincing truck and horse-trailer, which he left running independently while he kept his "consciousness" in his separate, human-appearing form. He would not be able to keep so large a separation going for long, but it would be long enough to get loaded up and get moving.

While Rictor, Rahne, Doug and Warlock made trips to and from the mansion, loading boxes, bags, and small pieces of their own personal furniture into the "truck" section, Danielle was out at the stable, getting her winged stallion Brightwind ready to go. At last, after they had loaded the last of their own belongings, and Dani had packed away Brightwind's saddles, reins, bridles, and enough hay and feed to last the trip (which wasn't much, really), she brought the stallion around to the front of the mansion, riding him bareback.

Doug set his suitcases and satchel down next to the truck and met her in back of the trailer. "Everything ready, Chief?" he asked her as she dismounted.

"I hope so," she snorted. "He's not going to like this much, but there's no way I'm flying him all the way there cross-country."

Doug nodded. "Are you going to be okay with the drive?"

"Of course," she smiled at him, trying to coax Brightwind into folding his wings and getting into the trailer. "I've got the road in my blood. You know that. Besides, I owe my folks a visit. Did you pack my guitar in the front?"

"Just like you asked," Doug chuckled. "I guess we'll see you again at the ranch, then."

"And thank the spirits for that," she grunted, pulling on the stallion's reins. "I don't know what I would've done if your grandparents hadn't offered to look after him. Thanks for asking them."

"Well, it wouldn't have been a good idea to keep him at the house, that's for sure."

In all this time, Brightwind had not budged. He gave his mistress a look that seemed to say "You have got to be joking."

At last, she let out a heavy sigh and said "Please?"

The stallion regarded her for a moment, then hunched his wings and stepped up into the trailer, waiting obediently for them to leave.

Dani shook her head as she closed the tailgates behind him. "I wish I didn't have to keep him cooped up, but it wouldn't do for anyone to see him as we drive by."

"That's for sure."

She put her hands on her hips and gave him a brisk sigh. "So, we ready to head 'em up and move 'em out? The prof ambushed us yet?"

"No. I haven't heard from him, or anyone, all morning. It's spooky. I hope Forge remembers he volunteered to give us a ride to the airport."

They headed around to the side of the truck, where Warlock was loading the last box. "We ready, 'Lock?"

"Affirmative," the technoid replied. "Friends RahneandRictor are retrieving their suitcases."

"Cool. Are you okay for the drive out?"

"Affirmative. Task well within self's operating parameters. Shall self re-merge with vehicle?"

"Go right ahead."

Warlock touched the side of the truck, and the illusion of his dark skin faded and melted, as he reabsorbed himself into the remainder of his structure. The truck moved like a living thing, which of course it was, and a camper shell grew up from the sides, enclosing the baggage. Warlock formed a face on the side window and grinned at them. "All systems ready for travel," he reported.

"So what's keeping Rahne and Ric?" Dani asked, leaning against the side of the truck and looking back up at the open front doors of the mansion.

"Let's go find 'em. Make sure no one steals Brightwind, okay, 'Lock?"

"Self doubts that such theft would be possible, frienDoug."

"I think he was making a joke," Dani snorted.

"A bad one," Doug shrugged, as the two headed up to the front steps.

Upon entering the doors, they noticed Rahne's and Ric's suitcases sitting there, ready to go. Of their friends, though, there was no sign. "Rahne?" Doug called into the empty foyer. "Ric?"

"Yo, Doug, c'mere for a second!" Ric called from somewhere else on the ground floor. Doug and Dani exchanged glances and tried to follow his voice.

After a while, they came to the hall that led into the main "school" section, including offices and lecture rooms. "Ric?" Doug called again.

"Over here, Doug," came Ric's voice, from the open oaken doorway that led to Xavier's office. Doug thought his tone was a little strange, but considered that this might be his paranoia at work. A look at Dani, though, confirmed it. Her eyes were opened wide, and her mouth was set in a hard line. They looked at one another again, and then stepped inside, since there was nothing else for them to do.

Xavier was there to meet them, seated at his huge desk. His face was unshaven, and he looked as though he hadn't been sleeping well... for days. Rahne and Rictor were standing beside the desk, their expressions glazed and blank.

"Douglas, Danielle," Xavier said in a low voice. "It is time we had words."

"Oh, shit," was all Doug had time to say before the professor attacked them both with his telepathy.

Doug went to his knees, hands to his temples, trying to shut out the presence in his mind. In all of his paranoid thoughts, he never would have expected an all-out assault. There was no Warlock-module to save him from the voice this time. Danielle was fighting, though, lashing back with her own potent mental powers, but while her skills only covered a limited scope, his were all-encompassing, and he could counter her every attack.

It was very likely they would have lost, too, had Warlock not arrived, brought to the scene by the panic in his two friends' thoughts. "SELFRIENDS!" he screamed, as Dani, too, dropped to her knees, sweat pouring from her face. Eyes glowing furiously, he turned a scowl of hatred on the professor. "MAKER!" he growled, reassembling both arms into plasma cannons and firing, blowing the professor's desk apart.

Xavier reeled back in his hoverchair, shielding his face, and in that moment, his concentration was broken. Danielle took the opportunity to launch her own power at her teacher, confronting him with his greatest fear: his most mortal, soul-numbing terror.

Perhaps it was something in the way her own telepathic-based power interacted with his, or perhaps it was something in the bond shared by the five younger mutants, but in that moment, the two conflicting powers became a mental feedback loop, which flooded all of their minds, showing them the images created by Danielle. Rahne and Rictor snapped out of their trances, screaming, and even Warlock was jolted back, partially losing cohesion as the thoughts reached even his alien brain.

They saw Rictor, working hand-in-hand with the Mutant Liberation Front, using his very potent and destructive power to level cities in his wake as they fought their own twisted battle for mutant freedom. Thousands of people killed by his earthquakes up and down the California coast, the Manhattan skyline flattened as he toppled the mighty skyscrapers, Japan buried as his powers brought dormant volcanoes to life...

They saw Wolfsbane, once more a rampaging beast, in the forefront of a conflict, driven by her master, Fabian Cortez of the Acolytes. Her youth and innocence were washed away in the rivers of blood shed by her claws. Tired of fighting for a dream that had killed her friends, delivered her to the Genoshans, and even killed her once before, she was more than willing to do her part to make certain no mutant was ever oppressed again, even if it meant killing all that opposed her...

They saw Mirage, using her powers as a psychic assassin, killing government leaders across the globe, slaying them in their sleep with their own fears. And even as she went on her worldwide mission, her unseen master re-cultivated her power of bringing a fear or wish to full substance, making her perhaps the most powerful force on the planet. None could stand against a foe that could imagine anything, and make it reality...

They saw Warlock, the ultimate killing machine, able to assume any shape, take any form, or create any weapon. None could trace him, as how could they follow an enemy that could appear as anyone, or anything? His power to transmode and drain the life from living creatures was his ultimate weapon now, and was used without hesitation, nor remorse, his cold and calculating mechanical mind seeing it all as a means to fulfill the program given by his new teachers...

They saw Cypher, working alongside the Hellfire Club, using his skill with computers, and his partnership with Warlock, to access any computer in the world. He could hold entire nations hostage by taking control of the world's nuclear arsenal. He could bring Wall Street to its knees, or cause financial institutions worldwide to fold. Worse, he could turn his powers of decoding and deciphering toward the laboratory, learning the twisting paths of human and mutant DNA, and designing customized mutants, born to serve the cause...

And the images carried on until, quite suddenly, there was a burst of psychic static, and then silence.

Doug opened his eyes slowly, and looked up from the floor to see Forge standing over him with a small box in his hands. Jean Grey was with him, and she quickly rushed to the side of the professor, who'd fallen from his hoverchair, and was all but retching on the floor.

"I think that's about enough of that, kids," Forge said, lowering the little black box to his side. Apparently it was a device of his, and this had broken the link between them.

Danielle was the first to push herself back to her knees, trying to hold her aching head together. As the source of the images, she'd been the hardest hit.

"Now do you see?" came a hoarse, furious voice. All eyes in the room went to Xavier, who had turned wild eyes on Doug and Danielle. "Now do you understand why I want you to stay? Now do you know why I need to protect you?!"

"You son of a BITCH!" Ric growled, trying to launch himself at the professor. Rahne held him back, though, with a strength that surprised him. "No, Ric! Let him speak!"

"They'll find you out there," Xavier went on, ignoring the threats. "They'll find you, and they'll break you! They'll use you for their own ends, use you to bring war and genocide to the world! You won't be able to stop them, but I can! I can protect you!!"

Doug took several deep breaths, forcing his mind to clear, his mental defenses giving way to fury. "You're wrong. They won't break us. If you can't, neither will they."

"Damn it, Douglas, don't you realize yet?! This is the last haven for mutants! I don't want to see you killed, or enslaved! I haven't been able to sleep, for worry of you! In my dreams, I see you killed, over and over again, and I can't let that happen!"

At this, Doug's temper nearly exploded once and for all, but luckily, Danielle spoke first. "Then you'll let us go. We'll be out of the line of fire, and we'll take care of each other."

Xavier turned his eyes on her. "It won't work. You're safe here, you have to stay, you..." He coughed twice, and then folded into a dead faint.

"Stupid bastard probably hasn't eaten in days," Forge muttered. "Jean, you'd better get him to the infirmary and get Hank to check him out. I'll deal with the kids."

As Jean picked up the limp, suddenly very frail-seeming form of the professor, she looked at each of them in turn. "Don't hate him," she said, shaking her head. "He really does want what's best for you."

"Well, then he should be more'n happy to see us go," Ric spat.

"Self trusted formerteacher as father," Warlock added. "Self should have known better. All fathers kill their progeny."

She took him out of the office, leaving Forge to help them stand, one by one. "She's right, actually. He still thinks he's doing what's best for mutantkind. But he's killing himself. He hooks himself up to Cerebro for days on end, never eating, never sleeping. He's so deathly afraid that if he doesn't find every single new mutant in the world, that the godless hordes of the Hellfire Club and MLF will snatch 'em up. I'm surprised it's taken him this long to crack."

"Will he be alright?" Rahne asked. Even in the wake of his attack, she worried about him. Ric looked at her like she'd sprouted antennae.

"After a few days of rest and decent food, he should be. Hank, Jean and I'll look after him, and make sure he gets it."

Rahne nodded, apparently satisfied with this answer. She leaned against Ric, and let him put his arms around her, to steady them both. Danielle was supporting herself on one of the debriefing chairs, and Doug just stood very still, watching Warlock pick himself up and reassume his human shape.

"Meanwhile," Forge continued, "don't I owe three of you a ride to the airport?"

Doug looked around the devastated office, and realized that it would, indeed, be for the last time. "Yeah, I guess so. Let's hit the road."

Saturday, 21 August 1993 7:22 pm PDT

They unpacked the groceries together, stocking the refrigerator and cupboards as Ric took a bug-bomb, slipped it into the pantry, and then closed the door behind it, stuffing towels into the cracks of the frame to keep the gas (or the bugs) from escaping. As more and more bags were unpacked, Doug remarked that his mother was going to be thrilled with this Visa bill (she had sent one of her many credit cards to Brynn weeks before, asking that no expense be spared in making the house a home again). They probably had enough to last until winter break, or beyond. They had also made a stop at a sandwich shop to pick up dinner, as none of them were in any condition to cook after the day they'd had.

At last, Brynn announced that she had to be off. It was over an hour's drive back to the ranch, after all, and she needed to be up early, as always. Ric and Rahne thanked her for everything, and she said she'd be by to visit again in the next couple of days. Doug walked her back out to her car.

"So... are you happy to be back?" she smiled at him as she opened her car door.

"Hell, Brynn, right now I'm happy to be anywhere."

"Tell me as soon as you find out when Dani's coming in, okay?"

"She said she'd call from Colorado. She'll be flying the rest of the way in with Brightwind."

"Great. Boy, I can't wait to see what he looks like... I wonder how Papa Mike will react to that... a flying horse?"

"Brightwind's one of a kind, alright."

The conversation faltered, so Brynn just hugged him. "Well, I'm happy you're back. See you soon, okay?"

"Okay. Drive carefully."

He stepped away from the car and watched as she pulled away, not moving until her taillights disappeared past the exit gate. He then went back inside.

"Yo, Doug!" came Ric's voice from elsewhere in the house. "C'mere for a second!"

This stopped Doug in his tracks, and it took him a few seconds to shake off his apprehension. There was nothing to fear here.

He found his two friends out on the deck, watching the sun go down over the ocean. "Doug, you gotta check this out, man! This is the most incredible sunset I've ever seen."

"Aye, 'tis beautiful..." Rahne sighed, arms crossed before her as she gazed out with a look of contentedness.

"Be right out, guys," Doug said, ducking back in and slipping into the kitchen. Looking in the refrigerator, he smiled as he found a four-pack of small bottles of sparkling cider. Brynn had been reading his mind again, just like when they were kids. He grabbed three of the bottles, took an opener from the silverware drawer, and went back out to the deck.

"We get one of these things every night out here," he told them, motioning his head to the sinking sun as he handed each of them one of the bottles, then opened them one at a time. "No two are alike, either."

"Kinda like us, eh, Doug?" Ric grinned at him.

"Something like that," Doug nodded, holding up his bottle. "To a new start."

"A new start," Rahne repeated, clinking her bottle with theirs. "And it's about bloody time."

They leaned against the deck, wind blowing through their hair, and watched as the sun set on the first day of their new lives.

Next: "Goin' Mobile"

This story (c) 1993, 1999 Jeremy Bottroff

"Shelter From the Storm" words and music by Bob Dylan (c) 1974, 1999 Rams Horn Music, from the album BLOOD ON THE TRACKS

Bishop, Elisabeth Braddock (Psylocke), Brightwind, Cable, Marie-Ange Colbert (Tarot), Fabian Cortez, Forge, Emma Frost (White Queen), Jean Grey, Sam Guthrie (Cannonball), Remy LeBeau (Gambit), Logan (Wolverine), Henry "Hank" McCoy (Beast), Danielle Moonstar (Mirage), Ororo Munroe (Storm), Douglas Ramsey (Cypher), Phillip Ramsey, Sheila Ramsey, Rictor, Rahne Sinclair (Wolfsbane), Sharon Smith (Catseye), Jennifer Stavros (Roulette), Rachel Summers (Phoenix), Scott Summers (Cyclops), Warlock, Warren Worthington III (Archangel), Charles Xavier (Professor X), Acolytes, Friends of Humanity, Genoshans, Hellfire Club, Hellions, Mutant Liberation Front, New Mutants, Reavers, X-Men, Massachusetts Academy, Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters created by and (c) 1999 Marvel Entertainment Group

Brynn McAudry created by David Olson and Jeremy Bottroff, (c) 1999 Ol' Sambu and Wolfsong, but she requires a little more explanation than that.  Brynn McAudry was the name of Dave's character in my first big Dungeons and Dragons campaign several years ago in Santa Barbara.  After the game ended, Dave (who has been wondering when I'm going to get around to writing the Great American Novel) said I could use the character in future stories if I wanted.  So... how am I doing so far, Dave?

The McAudry family (Brian, Kellen, Lon, Michael, and more to come) created by and (c) 1999 Jeremy Bottroff

Dungeons and Dragons (c) 1999 TSR/Wizards of the Coast

Commander Data and Star Trek: The Next Generation (c) 1999 Paramount

The University of California, San Diego is a real place in La Jolla, California, as will be many of the locations depicted in this storyline. If you happen to be in the San Diego area, be sure to swing by!