GO WEST

Chapter 15: "Bravado"

Emma Frost looked down at the open folder on her desk, then back up at the impassive figure seated opposite her. This should have been a proud, happy moment, but she found herself dreading what she already knew was to come.

Jennifer Stavros was Frost's first mutant student, if only by a day or two. She was the first Hellion, and had remained with the team, and with the Academy, for well over five years, both in undergraduate and graduate studies. She had gone from a dead-end life in a street gang to success she herself would never have believed possible in academia.

Instead of pride, though, all Frost could feel was an echo of Jennifer's own numbness. At one time, not so very long ago, Jennifer, Sharon and Marie-Ange had been the heart and soul of the Hellions. That time was gone now, even as Sharon and Marie-Ange were gone.

"Doctor Frants and I have both gone over your thesis at great length," Frost said at last. "And after much conferring over the matter, we have come to a decision."

Jennifer looked up, finally meeting her teacher's eyes. Here it came. In one sense, Frost knew that the news would be a release for her, and she was tempted to lie. To deny Jennifer her degree now would probably not do anything for her loyalty, though, and Frost knew that as well.

"While your work has taken an understandable turn for the worse at the end of the semester, your requirements have been fulfilled, and your thesis is first-rate. Congratulations, Jennifer, on a job well done -- you've received your Masters with honors."

Frost passed the document in question to Jennifer, and she looked at it closely. "Thanks," she said, quietly.

"As you know, with this comes the potential for a large promotion, teaching classes of your own at the collegiate level, with an appropriate increase in salary. And from here, of course, you more than qualify for the Ph.D. program, should you choose to continue." Frost tried to say all of this in a neutral tone, but she could not help placing a slight emphasis on the choices being offered.

Jennifer set her degree certificate back on the desk and folded her hands in her lap. After a while, she looked up. "I'd like to request a leave of absence."

Frost blinked. As much as she'd been expecting this possibility, to hear it from Jennifer herself was a numb shock. "Whatever for?"

"I have to go," Jennifer said, simply. "I can't... be here right now. I want to go home, and just take a break, get my life together. It's been five years now, and I need a vacation."

"Jennifer, you always seemed so excited about the Ph.D. program. Why change your mind now?"

She gave a short, rueful laugh. "Yeah, I was, a few months ago. It's not the same, now."

Frost folded her arms and leaned forward across the desk. "Why not?"

"Most of the reason I was even going to do the program was because Angie was, too."

There. The real reason was out in the open. "Jennifer, once she and Sharon return..."

"They're not gonna return!" Jennifer snapped. "Don't try to string me along like this, Miss Frost. They're dead. They're not coming back."

"We don't know that..."

The look Jennifer gave Frost was evidence enough that Jennifer fully believed her two best friends to be dead. "Look, that's real nice, trying to give me hope, but face it. They're dead. Deal with it. They're dead, and I can't stay here. Everything I do, everywhere I go, it reminds me of them. Every time I get ready for a workout, I expect Sherry to come up and give me a hug, or hear Angie making some prediction about how lousy we're gonna do. If I don't get away for a while, I'm gonna go out of my mind, can't you see that?"

"Jennifer, you and I both know that if you leave here, you won't come back."

There was a pause. "I don't know," Jennifer admitted, then. "I don't know if I will or not. Maybe I'll get a job at some city college somewhere and teach Calculus the rest of my life. Maybe not. I don't know. Maybe after being away for a semester, I'll be ready to get back into it."

Frost took a deep breath, and looked down at her desktop. "May I at least make one last offer?"

"Sure," Jennifer nodded, but she looked as though she'd already made up her mind.

"I would like to offer you leadership of the B-team," Frost said at length. Before Jennifer could turn her down, she went on. "They're in need of guidance and support. They need someone with your experience and ability. They need you. Damn it, Jennifer, I need you. Please, I beg you to reconsider."

The two women sat together in silence for a while. Jennifer stared blankly at a point just in front of the desk, and said nothing.

"If you do decide to leave, though," Frost went on, "I want you to know that there will always be a place for you here, should you change your mind. The door will always be open. Please remember that."

"I appreciate that," Jennifer nodded. "Thanks. I really will think about it -- I just need time away. That's all."

After another, even lengthier pause, Frost cleared her throat. "How soon will you be leaving?"

"Tomorrow."

"So soon?"

Jennifer nodded. "You know me. Always impulsive."

Frost nodded in reply. "I think I shall even miss that."

"So... I can go?"

"Of course. I'll place you on sabbatical until further notice. I do hope you'll keep in touch."

"Don't worry, you'll be hearing from me one of these days."

Jennifer stood, and retrieved her certificate from the desk. Frost stood as well, and looked at this girl, who over the years had become more a daughter than a student. Frost found herself wanting to reach out and hold the girl to her, but there was a lot more than just the desk in the way. The girl was a woman, only ten years younger than Frost herself, and she had made her decision.

Without another word, then, Jennifer turned and left the office. Frost watched her go, and only when the door closed behind her did she look away. After taking a few deep breaths, she stepped over to the liquor cabinet, and brought out a bottle of scotch and a glass. She poured herself two fingers, and drank it down in three swallows, the alcohol searing her throat. Even before the kick wore off, she was pouring herself another.

Taking both the glass and the bottle with her, she sat down at her desk and leaned way back in her chair.

Even her best efforts could not have prevented this. Her life's work was crumbling down around her ears, and there was nothing she could do to stop it.

This was not entirely true, she knew. She could, theoretically, chase Jennifer down and psychically convince her to reconsider, but that would be wrong, and she knew it. Five years ago, maybe, but now... she had come so far in the past years. But where was her new resolve taking them all?

She drained the second glass and tried not to think about it.

Somewhere in La Mesa, CA
Tuesday, 14 December 1993 10:40 am PST

After driving what she considered to be a suitable distance, Marie-Ange finally found what she was looking for. She pulled into a non-descript strip-mall and found a place to park, then got out, locking the door behind her (more a habit than anything else, given that the BMW convertible's top was down).

The lack of actual phone booths in this area was maddening, she decided, but this was a call she needed to make without being overheard, and without outside sounds interfering.

She shut the door of the booth, then picked up the phone, checked for a dial tone, and keyed in a complicated series of codes. After a pause, she fished a roll of quarters out of her purse and started patiently plunking them into the coin slot. A few dollars later, the call began the laborious series of connections. She waited, listening to a series of clicks and tones, and then finally, she heard a distant ringing.

After three rings, someone picked up. "Allô, allô! Chez Colbert!"

"Bonjour," Marie-Ange said, hesitantly. "Ah- Sylvia? C'est toi?"

"Oui. <May I ask who is calling?>"

"<Sylvia, it's Marie-Ange.>"

"Oh, mon dieu! <Marie-Ange? How wonderful to hear from you!>"

"<Thank you, Sylvia. How are things at the house?>"

"<Oh, well, very well.>" Sylvia lowered her voice to a conspiratorial whisper, making her almost inaudible. "<Madame has another fiancé. This one is 'the one,' she says.>"

Marie-Ange sighed. "<Why am I not surprised? Sylvia, has she... mentioned me at all in the last month?>"

"<No. Why do you ask?>"

"<No one has contacted the house about me?>"

"<No, no one at all. Are you alright, chère?>"

To be honest, she was stunned. The gossip network among the servants of the Colbert estate was infallible. If Sylvia had not heard of Marie-Ange's disappearance from the Academy, then no one had contacted the house to tell them about it. "<Oh, yes, I'm fine. Sylvia, is my mother available?>"

"<I shall find her for you. Stay where you are.>"

"Merci."

"De rien, chère."

Massachusetts Academy, 2:44 pm EST

Jennifer paused in her packing as she heard Haroun's very distinctive knock at the door to her suite. For a moment, she considered playing dead, and not answering. The knocking continued, though, and she let out a heavy sigh. "Who is it?" she asked.

"It's Haroun," came the expected reply.

With a sigh, she plodded over to the door and opened it. Haroun was standing there, looking stormy. "Yeah?" she asked, wearily.

"You're leaving," he observed.

"My, good news travels fast," she remarked, turning back to her work, leaving the door open. Haroun followed her in, and found a wall to lean against, keeping his arms crossed over his chest. Jennifer went on stuffing clothes into her suitcase.

"Why?" he asked simply.

"We've been through this," she told him. "I've got no reason to stay here."

"I see," he replied, coldly. After a pause, he went on. "Forgive me. I know that I was never an adequate substitute for James, much less for Sharon and Marie-Ange."

"Look, Jet, spare me the sarcasm, would you?" she shot back. "You and I had a good ride, kid, but let's face it -- it's over. It's been over for a few weeks, now, but I guess you just didn't notice."

"What are you talking about?" he scowled.

"What I'm talking about is you! Jetstream, the gallant leader of the Hellions, ever vigilant, ever devoted to the cause. Whottaguy. You had your escape with the team, Jet; I'm making mine now."

"The team needed me, Jennifer!" he shouted. "We've been in a constant crisis situation since October, and they've needed strong leadership now more than ever! I couldn't stand by and watch everything fall apart after all we've worked for! My duty was to the team."

"Exactly," she said, with a small, cold smile. "Couldn't let down the team, nope. Hadda always be there for the team."

"They were, and remain my responsibility, Jennifer," he told her, flatly.

"Then what the hell are you bitching me out for? You made your choice already, kid. Hope you're happy with it."

"Alright," he nodded, angrily. "Where have you been? Why haven't you assisted in the investigations as Miss Frost asked? Why have you..."

"Oh, God, will you listen to yourself?" she cried. "Jesus, Haroun, I'm glad you're so fucking committed to the team, but what about your commitment to me? What about us, dammit? I'm glad you've been there for everyone else, but where the hell have you been for me when I've been going out of my goddamned mind? How long d'you think you can go on neglecting a girl before she's had enough?"

"I was not neglecting you!" he insisted, looking a mix of angry and confused now. "I've had more responsibilities than ever, now. I did what I had to do!"

"And I'm glad you think so," she nodded. "Looks like you've got your priorities in order, Jet. Good for you. But not good for me."

"You're impossible!" he cried, exasperated. "Even after all this time, you have no concept of what responsibility means!"

"Look who's talking," she muttered. She then stopped in her tracks, a realization dawning. "Haroun," she asked, quietly, "which upsets you more? Losing me as the other half of 'us,' or losing me as a member of the team?"

He shook his head. "Losing you. Period."

She looked into his dark eyes for a while, then went back to her packing. "Look, it might just be for a semester."

"I don't believe that," he said, shaking his head.

"Well, you're just gonna have to, kid, 'cause it's all you're getting. Did you expect me to stay here forever?"

They carried on in silence for a while. "Nothing I can say is going to change your mind, is it?" he asked at last.

"Doubt it," she shrugged.

"Very well," he nodded. "Goodbye."

Without another word, he turned and left the room. Jennifer stood very still for a moment, but then she threw herself across the room, grabbed the door, and slammed it shut.

Almost immediately, there was another knock.

"WHAT?!" she screamed, furiously.

"Jen, it's Cassie. Open the door."

"Cass," she replied, then broke off. She took the few steps to the door, then leaned heavily against it, feeling the cold wood against her forehead. "Cass, I don't wanna talk right now, okay?"

"Bullshit. Open up, Jen."

She thought about this, then went ahead and opened the door. "What?"

Cassie Spangler, the female half of Gemini, stepped in and made a point to close the door behind her. "That didn't go well," she remarked.

"What gave you that idea?"

"Come on, Jenny, the whole floor heard. You're really leaving?"

"Yes. You gonna try to talk me out of it, too?"

"No. But I will say that I'll miss you. We all will."

Jennifer took a deep breath, then let it out slowly. "Thanks, Cass. I'll miss you too. I'll miss a lot of things."

She sat down on the end of her unmade bed and looked at the floor. "I'll miss drumming with you. I'll miss staying up late and getting drunk those weekends Miss Frost's out of town. I'll miss our road trips to Boston, and all those seedy little jazz bars we played in."

"Then why leave?" Cassie asked, sitting down next to her.

"I have to," Jennifer insisted. "I just do."

"Okay," Cassie nodded. "This place won't be the same without you -- you know that, don't you?"

"Ah, you'll have a new band going before you know it," Jennifer waved.

"I wasn't talking about the band. I was talking about you. You will write, won't you?"

"Yeah, probably." She laughed once. "I don't know why everyone's so convinced I'm not coming back. I'll probably take one look around once I get back into the Real World and hie my ass back here ASAP."

"I hope so," Cassie nodded. "But you gotta do what's best for you this time, okay?"

"Thanks, Cass," Jennifer sighed, leaning against her friend. "I needed to hear that."

McAudry House, 6:21 pm PST

When Doug got back from his last final (for the day, anyway), he found the rest of the group in the whatever-room, in assorted stages of post-finals blearghness. Rahne was laying on the beanbag-chairs, looking dead to the world (she'd had four exams in a row, giving rise to some serious questions about the University's scheduling methods), Ric and Dani were slouching on the couch, Angie was in the kitchenette watching the oven carefully, and Sharon, as could be expected, was asleep. Only Warlock was actively studying, which for him meant sitting very still and reviewing the data in his brainware. "They survived the X-Men," Doug said in a melodramatic voice. "They survived the Imperial Bank fire. They survived the Mutant Fair. But what hope have our heroes against the horror of... Finals Week?!?"

"Yaaaaaaah!" Dani mock-screamed. "Anything but that!"

"School sucks," Ric muttered, indiscernibly.

"How's Rahne?" Doug asked, looking at her carefully.

"Dunno," Dani shrugged. "She woke up about half an hour ago, mumbled something about the cardiovascular system, turned over, and that was it."

"God, we're pathetic," Doug chuckled, rubbing his face with his hands. He put his satchel down on the floor and drifted over to the kitchenette. "Hi, sweetheart," he said to Angie, coming up behind her and giving her a hug. "What're you up to?"

"Making cookies," she grinned over her shoulder at him.

"Ah, taking pity on us?"

"This is the first exam week I've not had exams," she shrugged. "I don't know what to do with myself."

Doug sniffed the air. "Smells good. Tell me, is there anything you can't do?"

"I'm only following a recipe," she admonished him. "Honestly, I know nothing at all about cooking. Jennifer would joke that I could even burn ice cream."

"I'll teach you," he offered, smiling.

She checked the timer. "A few minutes more. Douglas... I need to talk to you about something."

"Sure," he said, amiably. "I can't promise any coherent answers, though. My brain's mush."

She nodded. "I think... I should tell you in private, though. Could we... step out for a moment?"

"Okay," he agreed, giving her a bemused look.

They retreated into the room Angie shared with Sharon, and sat down at the end of the bed (there was only the one, as Sharon preferred to sleep curled up at Angie's feet). "What's up?" Doug asked.

"I... spoke with my mother today," she sighed, looking away.

"Really?" he asked, genuinely surprised.

"I didn't call from here, don't worry," she assured him. "It was very strange, though. Douglas, I don't believe anyone at the Academy told her of what happened to me. She spoke to me as though I were still there. She even remembered to ask how my classes were."

Doug blinked. "That doesn't make any sense."

"It might," she grimaced. "Perhaps Mam'selle Frost did not wish to concern her with the news."

"Well, how could she avoid it? I mean, she'd find out eventually, when she couldn't ever get a hold of you, right?"

"Perhaps not," Marie-Ange said, hesitantly.

When she lapsed into silence, Doug prompted her to go on. "Why not?"

Marie-Ange sighed. "My mother... never calls the Academy. She sends money every so often, but she never called me. We are not... very close."

"I'm sorry," he said, softly. "Well, what did you talk about, then? Did you tell her about what happened?"

"Non, bien sûr. She would overreact. I told her that I was well, and that studies were fine."

He nodded. "What else did you tell her?"

"Well," she said, looking down and blushing just slightly, "I did say that I had... a man in my life."

"Aha," Doug grinned. "Should I be scared?"

"You may wish to be," she nodded. "You see, she asked me to come home to Lyon for winter break, and when I mentioned you, she insisted that you come as well. She wants very much to meet you."

"Oh... dear," Doug chuckled. "Gotta impress the folks, eh?"

"I told her that I would ask, but if you would prefer not to..."

"Prefer not to see where you grew up? I'd love to! Are you sure you want to go? You've always been quiet about your family; I got the impression things weren't so good for a while there. You said you ran away once."

"Oui," she nodded. "But I like to think that those times are behind. She says she has a new fiancé she wishes me to meet, as well. Perhaps she has changed."

"I hope I make a good impression."

She gave him a bemused look in response to his. "And how could you not, Douglas?"

"Oh, I could figure something out, if you give me time."

Massachusetts Academy, Snow Valley MA
Wednesday, 15 December 1993, 9:13 am EST

Buford McGwynn loaded the last two boxes into the trunk of Jenny's MR-2 Turbo, making a superhuman effort to get everything to fit. Once he had everything tucked away, he gently closed the trunk, then looked over at Jenny and gave her a weak smile.

"Thanks, Boof," she smiled in return.

"Hey, no problem," he shrugged. "I useta' work for a moving company back home."

She nodded, then looked around at the loose crowd of classmates who'd come to see her off. "I'm gonna miss you guys," she said, quietly.

Paul Spangler (currently in charge of the body) smiled and gave her a hug. "Keep in touch, skins. Anything I can tell Cassie for you? I'll leave her a note."

"Nah," Jennifer replied. "She already knows."

The Delacroix brothers were next, getting her from both sides in a sandwich hug. "'Owevair will ze sun shine over ze Academy again wizout your beauty, ma chère?" Etienne sighed.

"It'll manage." She kissed him on the cheek, giving herself a minor shock in the process. "Johnny, keep Eddie outta trouble, will you?"

"But of course," Jean-Pierre nodded. "Take care of yourself."

"Jennifer-sama?" This was from Akiko Tanaka, speaking for herself and an even shyer Keiko Kimota. "Keiko and I wished to say thank you. Thank you for your teachings, and your friendship."

"Arigato," Keiko nodded, nervously. She looked very close to tears.

"Thanks, 'Kiko, Keiko," she told them, giving them each a hug in turn. "Try not to burn the place down, 'kay, lizard?"

"I will... restrain myself," Akiko nodded, with a tiny smile.

Dan Weller was the next to say goodbye (Jenny gave a hug to as much of his bulk as she could), followed by Aaron Jorgensen (who couldn't really think of anything to say, and got it out so rapidly, thanks to his speed, that it was incomprehensible anyway) and Robby Jefferson (who gave her a peace-sign with one hand, apologizing for not being able to hug her). It got to be a blur at that point, and Jennifer was vaguely aware of being passed from Kelly to Sean to Kristina to Simon to Tom to Marsha to Buford.

The very last goodbye came from a very nervous Ray Joel. "Um, Jenny, I just, uh, wanted to say..."

"Yes?"

He looked up at her, almost in tears. "I'm... we're really gonna miss you, Jenny," he managed.

With a soft smile, then, she gave him a warm hug and kissed him on both cheeks. "That's sweet, Ray."

"It is?" he stammered. "Ah. Okay. Um, 'bye..."

"That everyone?" Jennifer sighed. She looked around, then frowned. "Where's Buns?"

"I told him last night we'd be coming to meet you," Paul shrugged. "I thought for sure he'd be here."

"I, ah, looked for Haroun," Buford offered. "Couldn't find him, though."

"Figures," she nodded. "Well, looks like I'm outta here. You guys be good to each other. I mean it."

"We will," Paul nodded. "You be good to you, too."

She smiled one last time, then climbed into the car and closed the door. In another moment, she had it started, and then, waving through the window, she drove off, as the Hellions watched.

"Okay," Paul said, in an attempt to break the mood. "B-team, we've got a workout in half an hour. I'll see you all down there." He checked his watch. "Well, Cassie will, anyway."

"Someone better find Gilly," Simon pointed out.

"I'll track him down," Paul nodded.
 
 

By the time Paul checked out the Underground and backtracked to Gilbert's room in Dent Hall, he was running out of time. Checking his watch, he cursed under his breath.

"Hey, Gil, you awake in there?" he asked, knocking on the door in question. "C'mon, Gilly, we got a workout to do."

There was no answer, and Paul had thirty seconds. He quickly pulled a tablet of paper from his back pocket, and a pencil from his front, then started scribbling. "Dear Cassie," he read aloud as he wrote. "Workout at 10. Please try to find Gilbert. Jenny said to tell you that you already know what she had to say. Love, Paul." He then held the tablet up in front of his face.

As often happened, the first thing Cassie saw when she "awakened" was a note from Paul. She shook herself, noting with some annoyance that he hadn't changed clothes for her. The note, though, combined with the dampness of perspiration on her skin, suggested that Paul had been in a hurry anyway.

"Whaddya mean you can't find him?" she asked, but of course Paul was no longer there to hear. She knocked on the door, just because it had to be done, and called out "Yo, Gilberto! Wake up!"

No answer was forthcoming.

"Paul, did you find him yet?" came a voice from down the hall. Cassie looked round to see Marsha approaching. "Oh!" Marsha blinked, noticing the change in gender. "Sorry, Cassie. Guess I just missed him."

"Yeah," Cassie nodded. "Where the hell's Rabbit?"

"I came up to check," Marsha suggested. "Want me to try?"

"Be my guest." Cassie stepped aside and gave her a mock bow, pointing to the door.

Marsha positioned herself in front of the door, then concentrated on separating her senses from her body. In a moment, she slipped free, and slowly projected her sight and hearing into the dorm room beyond.

"What do you see?" Cassie asked.

"It's clean," Marsha noted. "I don't think he's ever kept the place this neat. I can't see him anywhere in the room. Wait a second... Cass, there's a note on his desk."

"What's it say?"

"Let me check," she replied, vaguely. After a moment, though, her sightless eyes went wide, and she rocked back on her heels as she returned mind to body. "Oh, God..!" she whispered.

"What, what?"

"Cassie, he's gone! It was a note saying goodbye!"

"Oh, crap," Cassie muttered. She then did what she realized she should have done first thing -- she mindcalled the Headmistress. *Miss Frost, this is Gemini. We've got a problem.*

It took a moment for a reply to come, which surprised Cassie. Frost was usually there right away when a thought was directed her way. *What is it, Gemini?*

*It's Rabbit. He... bolted.*
 
 

Fifteen minutes later, Frost, Jetstream and Chief DeCandido had arrived on the scene, the former studying the departure note carefully.

"Well, does it look authentic?" DeCandido asked.

"It's his handwriting," Frost nodded. "That doesn't necessarily mean he went willingly, though. Farsight, have you checked this?"

"Yes," Marsha nodded. "He wrote it less than two hours ago, right before he left. He was in his right mind, I'm sure of it. He did this voluntarily."

"But why?" Jetstream asked, testily.

"Well, read the note!" Cassie scowled at him. When he did not do so, she took it from Frost and read it aloud to him. "'Dear everyone. I'm sorry to leave without saying goodbye, but I need to get away for a while too. I'll be back soon, I promise. Love, Gil.' Sounds pretty clear to me."

"Have someone scan for his beacon," Frost suggested to DeCandido.

"Right," he nodded, relaying the order to Security through his headset microphone. After a moment, he got a reply. "Mack says he scans as being in this room."

"Have him buzz it," Frost ordered.

After relaying this, a loud beeping sound came from Gilbert's desk. Cassie opened the top drawer and pulled out the beacon -- an otherwise ordinary-looking pager. "He didn't take it," she observed.

"Those are supposed to be worn at all times," said Frost, stating the obvious. "Blast. He couldn't have gone far in an hour, though. Gemini, Farsight, get to the Underground. Jetstream, put the teams on alert status."

"At once, Headmistress," Haroun nodded.

"What'll you be doing?" Cassie asked.

"Scanning," she replied, simply. "If he's within ten miles, I'll find him."

Interstate 91, south of Hartford, CT
Wednesday, 15 December 1993 10:29 am EST

Jennifer was more than happy to be clear of Hartford traffic. Until then, she'd been making pretty good time. Now, thank goodness, she had a good, clear freeway ahead of her. She was finally on her way.

The U2 disc she'd been playing ended, so she ejected it from the player and replaced it in its jewelbox. For a while, she just enjoyed the relative quiet, but this soon passed. "Shit," she mumbled, for no adequately explored reason.

She was getting a bad case of the munchies, so she rummaged around in the narrow space behind the passenger's seat (there were no back seats), looking for the cooler and bag of junk food she'd packed for this specific purpose.

Then her groping hand found something that felt a lot like fur.

For a moment, she paused, but then she felt again. It was fur, alright. She briefly wondered if she'd packed her old furry hat back there, but then she remembered that she didn't even have the hat anymore.

Then the fur under her hand twitched.

Jennifer jerked back her hand, then grabbed the wheel, swerved across two lanes of traffic, slammed on the brakes, and came to an abrupt stop in the emergency lane to the right of traffic. Without pausing, she threw open her door, got out of the car, stomped around to the other side, and threw that door open as well. "Gilbert, get the fuck out of my car!!"

Rabbit meekly emerged from behind the seat, then shifted back into his human form once he was clear. "Jenny, listen to me," he pleaded.

"No, you listen to me, Buns!" she growled. "I hope you like walking, 'cause I'm not driving you all the way back there!"

"Then take me with you!" he insisted.

Jennifer paused. "Gilbert, what the fuck is your problem? I'm going home to Jersey, stupid! I don't need a frigging escort!"

"Come on, Jenny," he said in a serious tone. "We both know you're not just going home."

She looked into his eyes for a while, then took a step back and pointed back down the road. "Out," she ordered.

He stepped out, but did not give up the fight. "Look, you're not fooling anyone. I know what you're gonna do."

"Really?" she asked, sourly. "You wanna clue me in?"

"You're going after Brainwash and Camouflage, aren't you?"

There was a long silence, and the two faced off with one another. "Get back in the car," she then said in a low voice.

Gilbert nodded and did so, and Jennifer strode back around to her own door to do the same. Once both doors were closed, she turned and let her gaze bore into him. "Anyone else know you're here?" she demanded.

"No, I didn't tell anyone. I left a note saying I was leaving for a while."

"You bugged?"

He creased his forehead. "Yeah, I did."

"No, no, are you bugged?" she asked, impatiently.

"No. Left the beacon in my room."

"Fine. What makes you think I need your help?"

"Nothing. I want to help, though. I'm volunteering."

"Gilbert," she sighed, "do you have any fucking idea what you're getting into here?"

"Yes," he nodded.

This made her pause for a moment, but only for a moment. "My," she mocked. "Has the bunny grown fangs?"

"Look," he sighed. "Angie and Sharon were my friends, too."

Her face got the now-familiar stony look that arose whenever their names came up. "Really," she said.

"Really. Sharon was my mentor, for God's sake. Angie was one of the few people who'd ever listen to me. I'm not doing this out of some hormonal desire to follow you around, Jenny; you know that."

She thought about this. "Yeah, I guess you're not."

"So let me come," he almost begged. "For someone to talk to, for luck, whatever."

"Luck?" she asked him, eyebrows raised.

"Okay, fine, you've got enough of that on your own. But I've got my lucky rabbit's feet. Four of 'em, even."

She looked at the steering wheel, then back at Gilbert. "You really want in on this?"

"Yes," he nodded, emphatically.

"Fine," she sighed. "Buckle up. And just to warn you, I like to speed."

"Okay," he nodded, buckling his seat belt. She did the same, then started the motor and pulled back into traffic. After a while, he got up the courage to ask "So where are we going first?"

"Atlantic City," she replied. "And by the way, Buns, if you left any Trix back behind my seat, I'll kick your rabbit ass."

"I held it."

"Good bunny."

Atlantic City, NJ
Wednesday, 15 December 1993 5:48 pm EST

At long last, the MR-2 came to a stop in front of a nondescript house in the outskirts of Atlantic City proper. Jennifer was unbuckled and out in about three seconds, but Gilbert emerged from the car more slowly, taking in his surroundings (as any rabbit would). It was something of a seedy neighborhood, which surprised him -- he'd always been under the impression that Jennifer had come from a family that was at least well-off, if not downright wealthy.

"So where are we, exactly?" he asked. Maybe they were making a stop before reaching her parents' home.

"This is home," she shrugged, "at least for the time being."

She took the front walkway up to a short flight of steps, then knocked twice at the door. Gilbert followed behind her, warily.

At great length, the door opened a crack, restrained by a chain-lock. "Yeah?" came a rough voice.

"Hey, Paul," Jenny smiled at the sliver of face revealed.

"Holy..." Paul gaped. "Jenny! Shit, hang on." The door closed again, and there was the sound of the chain-lock being unfastened before it opened again, more widely this time.

Paul turned out to be a big man who Gilbert estimated to be in his mid-to-late twenties. He had cropped black hair, and was wearing a simple tank-top that showed off his build rather effectively. With a gap-toothed smile, he enfolded the much smaller Jennifer in a bearhug and lifted her off the ground. "Good to see you, kid! When'd you get in town?"

"Just now." She then looked around at Gil. "Uh, Gil, this is my brother, Paul Stavros. Paul, this is Gil Dane, fellow Hellion."

"Cool," Paul nodded, taking Gilbert's hand and giving it a firm shake. Gilbert was a bit taken aback by Jennifer's casual revelation that he was a mutant, but given that Paul was her brother, perhaps he'd already known.

"Paulie, we need to stay here for a while," Jennifer sighed. "Is that okay?"

"'Course it is," he replied, looking a touch confused. "What's up, sis?"

"I'll tell you later."

"Okay. Uh, need any help with the bags?"

"Nah, we've got it."

From there, Paul went back into the house, but left the door open for them. Jenny gave Gilbert a vague look, then drifted back down to the car to start unpacking.

"Does he live here alone?" Gilbert asked, as Jennifer started piling him up with boxes.

"Yep," she nodded, leaving it at that. She then gathered a few more packages and headed off to the house. Gilbert followed.

Paul was waiting for them inside, and he led them down a short hallway and into a small bedroom. "You can take this one, Jen. It's got a bunch'a your stuff in it already. Uh, Gilbert, you can take the one down the hall on the right."

"Thanks," Gilbert nodded, as he wove his way into the open doorway to Jennifer's room. He found a place to set everything down next to a wooden showcase. As he turned to follow Jennifer back out, though, he could not help but notice that the case was filled to bursting with trophies, cups, plaques, ribbons, and other awards.

He paused to study the lot, and saw the name "Jennifer Stavros" on each and every one of them. Most of them were first-place awards, and as he looked closer, he saw inscriptions such as "Most Original Program," or "Best Artistic Merit." In all the time he'd known Jennifer, he'd never imagined her to be terribly artistic, and he wondered what all of these were for.

"Yo, Buns, quit slacking," Jenny called back through the house, then. Gil tore himself away from the trophy case and headed back out to get the next round of baggage.

Once they had everything settled in Jennifer's room (Gilbert himself had only one small bag, as he hadn't been able to smuggle any more back behind the seat), Paul poked in again. "Want me to put the car in the garage?" he asked. "Nice car like that won't last long out on the street."

"Yeah, it's all yours," she smiled, tossing him the keys. Paul caught them in mid-arc, then headed back down the hall. Gilbert could not help but notice at this point that Paul walked with a somewhat pronounced limp.

Jenny was already unpacking, but Gilbert paused to take another look at the trophy case. "Hey, ah, Jenny?" he asked.

"Yeah?"

"What are all of these for?"

She looked up at him, then at the case. "Oh. Just shit I did when I was a kid."

"Looks like you did a lot," he noted. "What exactly was it?"

"Most of 'em are for skating," she shrugged, not looking up. "A few were for gymnastics. Paul must've kept 'em all after dad died."

Gilbert flinched. "I'm sorry," he said, instinctively. "I didn't know."

"Yeah. Happened about a year ago. Paul took all'a his stuff and mine and moved out here."

"How did he die?"

Jennifer looked up at him for a moment, then went back to unpacking her clothes. "Dad worked in one of the local casinos," she said, enigmatically. "He dealt a lot more than cards, though."

Gilbert thought about this for a while, then nodded. "Oh. Um, yeah."

"Don't shed any bitter tears or nothing; the man was a scumbag. Paul and James were the ones who took care of me."

"James?" Gilbert ventured.

"Brother number two," she explained. "I've got six brothers, all of 'em older than me. The joke was that mom and dad hadda keep doing it until they got it right. Anyway, Paul's the youngest of the boys, and James the next one up. They're the only two that ever really gave a damn about me."

"Oh," Gilbert said again, looking somewhat uncomfortable.

She noticed this, then nodded, giving him a grim smile. "Welcome to my world, Buns."

By this time, Paul had finished putting the car away, and he rejoined the two in the room. "So, what's up, Jenny?" he asked, finding a chair and sitting in it backwards. He looked over at Gil and nodded, acknowledging his continuing presence.

"Angie and Sherry are dead," she said, simply.

Paul blinked. "Oh. Oh, shit, I'm sorry." Without another word, he got up out of his chair to give her a hug.

"Later," she told him, holding up one hand. "I've had about all the sympathy I can stomach in the last couple of months."

"How'd it happen?" he asked, sitting down again.

"Someone busted into the dorm and killed 'em while the rest of us were all away." She said it in an emotionless monotone.

"Can I do anything?" Paul asked, clenching and unclenching his fists. "You want me to find the guy who did it?"

"No," she replied, shaking her head. She took a deep breath before going on. "Paul, I need you to get me some fake ID's made up for me and Gil here, a few sets of license plates for the car, and a couple of untraceable pistols. Can you do that for me?"

This time both Paul and Gilbert blinked at her. "Jenny," Paul said at last, "let me and James do this. Just tell me where to find 'em."

"They're mutants, Paulie, like me. And no offense, but they'd kick your ass. They're mine."

"Jenny," he protested, but she cut him off.

"Look, I know what I'm doing. I know how to find 'em. And they may be powerful, but neither one of 'em's bulletproof. All I need is to get close enough, and they're mine. Will you help me?"

Paul took a deep breath of his own, then, and chewed on his knuckles as he considered this. "Jenny, you ain't never killed no one before."

"Not for lack of trying," she said in a gravelly voice. "Remember the night Carlos got knifed and you got shot?"

"That..." he shook his head. "That's different. That was a gang thing. This ain't like you, Jen."

"Paul," Jenny said, her voice raising in pitch and tremulousness, "these bastards raped my best friend, then killed her, along with my other best friend! I'm gonna find 'em with or without help, okay? Now, which is it gonna be?"

There was a long pause, and Gilbert tried to think of something to add, but he couldn't.

"It'll take time," Paul conceded. "If you want legit fakes, I'll need to do some work on 'em. The guns'll be tougher. I could just give you a couple of mine. They're registered, but..."

"Don't," she said, shaking her head. "If I screw this up, I don't want this getting traced back to you."

"Okay," he nodded. "I'll call James, and see what we can do. It's gonna take time, though. I hope you're not in any hurry."

"We've got time," Jenny nodded. "So long as you don't mind putting us up."

Paul leaned forward in his chair and caught one of her hands in his. "My place is yours, sis, you know that. Tell you what; I'll call James, and we'll take you two out for dinner. How does that sound?"

"Great," she agreed, giving him a fragile smile. "That'll be fine. You like Italian, Buns?"

It took Gilbert a moment to realize he'd been addressed. "Oh! Ah, sure, that sounds great. Yeah."

"Okay, you guys make yourselves at home," Paul smiled. "I'll go give James that call."

"Thanks," Jennifer smiled, a bit more genuinely this time. Paul gave her a thumbs-up, nodded to Gil, then left the room."

After a pause, Jennifer looked over at Gilbert. "Like I said, kid, welcome to my world. You still with me?"

Gilbert opened his mouth to reply, but he couldn't get his voice to work, so he just nodded.

Massachusetts Academy, Snow Valley MA
Thursday, 16 December 1993 12:46 am EST

Chief DeCandido was just finishing up his security sweep of the administration building (he liked to do these checks personally, rather than from the Security Underground) when he noticed that there was still a light on in Frost's office. He wondered briefly whether she had just left it on, but then, just to be safe, he went to check it out.

One hand resting on his sidearm, he sidled up to the door to the office, then gently turned the doorknob.

*Go away,* came a faint voice in his head.

He opened the door, regardless. "Emma, what the hell are you doing up at this..."

It might have been the smell of alcohol that caused him to break off in mid-sentence. Then again, it might have been the two empty wine bottles and half-empty scotch bottle on the desk, the latter of which had been tipped over. Most likely, though, it was the sight of Emma Frost herself, barely able to stand, supporting herself against the liquor cabinet. As she turned around to glare at him, DeCandido all too readily recognized the outfit she was wearing. Lace-up bustier, high boots, fur cloak -- all flawless white in color. It was the get-up she'd worn during her time as the White Queen of the Hellfire Club.

*I said go away!* she repeated, more forcefully this time.

"Emma, what the hell's going on here?" DeCandido asked.

"Get out," she said, aloud this time.

"No," he replied. "You're drunk."

"And you're perceptive."

"Emma, what are you doing to yourself?"

"I was just remembering," she said vaguely, looking herself over. "I used to wear this more often, you know. You should have heard some of the thoughts that'd pass my way. Always turned heads. Even the children."

"What, you like people looking at you like a piece of meat?"

She fixed her pale eyes on him. "Didn't you feel it, Chief? Didn't you feel just a little rush when you walked in and saw me like this? Don't lie to me, I felt it. I felt it."

DeCandido shook his head. "Stop it."

"And you know what else?" she went on, oblivious. "I like it. It's so refreshing to hear honest thoughts. You can really judge a man by hearing what goes on in his head when he sees you in a bustier. This is power, Chief. This is what it's all about."

"I can't believe you're saying this," he said, shaking his head. "I thought part of the reason you quit the Hellfire Club was because of the way they made you a goddamn object!"

"You take what you can get!" she shot back. "Do you have any idea what it's like to see into people's minds? All illusions are gone. Just like that. All you ever see is the inside. You know those facades people keep up when they're in love? Showing their best side? Not with me. No one's ever faithful, Chief, not in their minds. They may say they love you, and only you, but once you see into their minds, you see the way they look at other women, you see the things they think about you, and..."

She broke off, tears brimming in her eyes. DeCandido was nothing short of stunned by this look into her mind, and it took him a moment to find his voice. "Emma, no one can help what they think, sometimes. It just happens. It doesn't mean that everyone's scum. There're good people out there."

At this, she almost laughed. "You know," she went on, "Buford and Kristina are in love. Very much. And less than an hour ago, they decided that the time was finally right to take the last step. They both wanted to for a long time, but Buford insisted on waiting until her eighteenth birthday. So as soon as the clock struck twelve tonight..."

"Emma, stop it!"

"I felt it. They can believe in each other. Do you know how much I wish I could believe like they do?" She wove her way to her couch and sat down, suddenly very tired. "I can't go on much longer, Chief. It's not working anymore."

"What's not working?" he asked, crouching down next to her. "Tell me."

"The Hellions," she said, exasperated. "Everything. It used to work, though. Do you know..." Here she looked into his eyes again. "Do you know some of the things I had to do in the years I wore this outfit? Do you know some of the things I had to do to keep their loyalty?"

DeCandido shivered involuntarily. "Only rumors," he admitted. "It's said you used to use your telepathy to keep them here."

"Ohhhh, yes," she nodded. "I stopped though. I stopped, because it was wrong, and because it was what the Club wanted. They didn't care about the children, except what use they'd be. They treated them like objects, too. And the thought of them stuffing Jennifer, or Marie-Ange, or Cassie, or any of the others into one of these... things..." she waved her hand absently over herself. "They don't have what I have, Chief. They don't feel what I feel. They don't have the power or the need."

"The need for what?" he asked, carefully.

"And now it's all falling apart," she moaned. "Shaw said it would. He said we'd never make it without the Club backing us. And he was right. I'm letting it all slip away. First Michael left, then the attack, and now Jennifer's left as well, and Gilbert's gone AWOL. It's all coming apart."

"No it isn't. You've got a solid crew here. They're behind you. You don't have to force anyone to stay anymore." DeCandido was mildly shocked to find that he was trying to reassure his employer.

She shook her head, unconvinced. "I can't do this forever, Chief. I can't. I had Michael, I had Marie-Ange, I had Jennifer... As soon as they finished with the Doctorate program, I was going to turn the school over to them. Now all three of them are gone. And then just today I had a chance to bring in someone else to assist me, and now it looks as though I drove him away during the interview, over some ridiculous, outdated concerns about his grooming. I've dug myself in deep, Chief."

"Emma," DeCandido repeated, trying to get through to her, "you can't do this to yourself. You still have people here who need you, and they'll need you tomorrow morning. You can't keep doing this to yourself."

"Oh, everything'll be fine come morning," she said with a wry smile. "I'll take care of that."

DeCandido had heard of Frost's methods of telepathically dispelling drunkenness and exhaustion, and he wondered how many times she'd used them in the past weeks. "Come on," he said, gently. "Let me take you back to your quarters."

He stood, and helped her to her feet, at which point she listed sharply against him. She had to lean on him the whole way back to her rooms.

Once she was safely "home," DeCandido headed back to the admin building, at the same time making a call in to the Underground. "Mack, do you copy?"

"Loud and clear, Chief," his second transmitted back. "What's up?"

"I want a guard posted on Frost's quarters," he said. "I want to hear about it if she tries to leave, clear?"

"Good Christ, Chief," Mack replied, sounding shocked. "What for?"

"Just do it, Mack."

"Right away."

DeCandido switched off his transmitter and sighed. What Frost really needed was therapy, but he had to wonder how anyone could go about telling her so without getting their brains flicked out their ears...

Stavros house, Atlantic City, NJ
Thursday, 16 December 1993 1:32 am EST

For the second night in a row, Gilbert couldn't sleep. First off, the new surroundings were strange -- the bedroom he'd been given was apparently also a receptacle for the detritus of the Stavros family history. The closet was stuffed with old clothes and other belongings, and pictures had been put up on every available flat surface, showing the seven Stavros children in various stages of youth, adolescence, and adulthood. Among these, he found one of a very young Jennifer, perhaps eleven or twelve, dressed in a red sequined skating outfit and holding a trophy, her face one huge smile. Another, apparently taken a few years later, showed all seven of the siblings, with Jennifer standing in the middle and her six brothers both around and behind her. The range in ages looked pretty severe -- Gilbert guessed that the oldest of the brothers was at least fifteen years older than Jennifer herself. Of these brothers, Gilbert recognized only Paul and James (whom he'd met earlier), but the others had the same rugged build, and most had the same black hair -- Jennifer was the only blonde.

Gilbert quite naturally found it difficult to sleep in a room filled with so much history. Jennifer had always been a bit of an enigma when it came to her past, and now, quite suddenly, he was right in the middle of it.

Rather than sleeping, then, the late hour found him sitting up in bed, writing in his journal. The day had brought more changes than he was comfortable with, but at the same time, he felt good to have made a decision and stuck with it this once. Paul and Cassie would have been proud of him, had they known. He wished he'd been able to tell them, but then Miss Frost would know, and she'd no doubt come looking for him.

After a while, the door creaked open just slightly, and Jenny peeked in. "I saw your light on," she said, softly. "Can't sleep?"

"No," he whispered back. "What's up?"

Jennifer pushed the door open and slipped through, closing it behind her. She was wearing only a pair of running shorts and a half-shirt, and Gilbert idly wondered how many of his fellow Hellions would have killed, or at least maimed, to see Jennifer wearing so little.

"I wanted to ask you something," she said, sitting down on the end of his bed.

"That's okay. I wanted to ask you a few things, too."

"That so?" she almost smirked. "Okay, we'll take turns. You want to go first?"

"No, go ahead."

"Okay," she nodded. After a pause, she continued. "Why?"

He considered this. "That's pretty vague, Jen."

"Why are you doing this? Why do you want to come with me?"

"I told you that already."

"Tell me more, then. You say they were your friends, but they were everyone's friends. You're here, though, and none of them are. Why you?"

"Well," Gilbert began, hesitantly, "they were both more than just my friends. Angie recruited me, you know... her and Mick. She and Sharon were my first teachers. But Angie was a lot more than that. She was the first one I... came out to."

Jennifer nodded. "Why her?"

"Well, I'd heard a rumor that she was gay, too, so I figured that she'd understand what I was going through. Turns out she wasn't."

"Not entirely," Jennifer put in.

"Right, but she still had a lot of really encouraging things to say. She understood. No one had ever understood before then, especially my family. She convinced me not to be ashamed of what I am."

"You didn't come out to everyone, though," Jennifer observed.

"Are you kidding?" Gilbert shrugged. "If Haroun had known I was gay, or Buford... can you imagine?"

"Oh, I can imagine, alright," she nodded. "I remember the way Haroun treated Kyle."

"Exactly. I swear, it was like being in the military, with this whole 'don't ask, don't tell' philosophy. Kyle was a bit more... open about it than I was."

"Kyle was a flamer, was what he was," she grinned. "But he was a fun guy. Haroun was just being a jerk, and Buford was just fighting off his inbred Hickness."

"You know, I think that was most of the reason he left," Gilbert sighed. "He told Miss Frost it was because his major wasn't offered, but I think he just wanted to get away from all that crap."

"I can understand that," she nodded. "She helped you part of the way out of the closet, and that's fine. You sure there isn't more to it?"

Gilbert paused. "Actually, there is," he said in a low voice.

"Tell me."

"When... when we got back from field testing, after the attack," he began, "Miss Frost had me check out the place with my senses, and then she had Marsha project herself into the past to try and figure out what really happened."

"I heard about that," Jennifer nodded.

"Well... what you may not have heard was that... in Angie's room, the... emotions there were so strong after what had happened to her... that Marsh got caught in it, and relived it. She felt Angie being... raped... as though it were happening to her. Miss Frost was mindlinked with her at the time, and I guess she must've panicked, because she suddenly started broadcasting everything. Both the Security Chief and I were there, and we felt it, too."

"Oh, shit," Jennifer whispered.

"Yeah," Gilbert nodded. "So I've got a pretty good idea what she went through. I'm not about to let them get away with what they did."

There was a long silence, and then Jennifer tried to change the subject. "Okay, how about Sharon?"

Gilbert cocked his head to one side. "That's another question. Isn't it my turn now?"

"Fine, go ahead," she shrugged.

After taking a moment to consider, Gilbert asked "Why does Paul walk with a limp?"

Jennifer's light smile vanished. "That's a long story."

"We've got time."

She nodded. "Did you know I used to be in a gang?" she asked him. "And that doesn't count as my next question, okay?"

"I kind of gathered that from the way the three of you were talking at dinner."

She nodded. "All of my brothers had been in it at one time or another. We were called the Rollers. For a while, I just went to tag along with Paul and James and act tough, but I really got into it after a while. This was when my luck powers were first showing up, so they kept me around as a good luck charm, literally. Then there was one night, when I was eighteen, and we had a rumble with this other gang, the Hurricanes. It got pretty bad, and I couldn't make the luck work. Paul got nicked, James got a knife in the leg, Carlos -- my boyfriend -- got one in the shoulder."

"Jesus," Gilbert whispered.

"Then the cops showed up," Jennifer went on. "And one of those stupid, stupid Hurricane pricks pulled a gun. Cops opened fire on the whole scene. Carlos got one in the other shoulder before the rest of us could scatter. Me and Paul ran down the alleys, and finally got pinned between two squad cars.

"That was the first time my power ever came out externally. They jumped out and told us to freeze, but a black disc came shooting out of my hand, and hit the ones in front of us. One of 'em yelled 'Mutie!' and then they both started shooting. They missed me, though, all of them."

"Bad luck for them, eh?" Gilbert said with a half-grin.

"Yeah, but for Paul, too. He got shot twice, once in the gut and once in the leg. He went down, and then all of a sudden everything stopped."

She paused, and Gilbert prompted her to continue. "Go on."

"Out of nowhere, Miss Frost shows up. I didn't know who she was then, of course, but she'd shut off the cops' minds. She saved me and Paul, and we got him to a hospital. That's when she told me about the Academy, and about how she was trying to start up a sort of mutant gang. I didn't see how I had much choice, so I came. Anyway, one of the shots shattered Paul's kneecap, and he's never quite recovered all the way from that. Therefore, the limp."

"Man, and I thought my recruitment was weird. Hey, are any of your brothers mutants?"

"Not that we know. Just little old me."

"Must've been something in the chromosomes," he smiled.

She nodded. "I think you were about to tell me about Sharon, right?"

"Right. Geez, I don't quite know where to begin. When I figured out my rabbit form, it didn't come with a set of instructions. I didn't know anything about how to use it. Catseye taught me everything -- how to track by scent, how to focus in on certain sounds, how to take advantage of being able to see in the dark better than regular people... Every week she was showing me something new about my senses, or my reflexes. It kind of scared me at first, 'cause she always used to say things about how she was a natural predator, and I was natural prey, and every once in a while, she'd tell me that if I didn't do well in my training sessions, she'd eat me. I never quite figured out if she was joking or not."

Jennifer snorted. "Oh, she wouldn't have done that..."

"Okay, next time you're a seven pound rabbit standing face to face with a big purple cat twenty times your size, you keep that in mind."

"Good point," she chuckled. "Okay, your turn."

"Right," he nodded. "Ah... If you don't mind me asking... you said your father used to deal more than cards. Um, does Paul?"

"No," she replied vehemently, shaking her head. "Most of my older brothers got into all the drugs and crap, and when Dad got killed, they sort of took over the family business. Me and Paul and James don't have anything to do with them anymore. We stay out of their way."

"Then... where exactly is Paul getting us all these things you asked for?"

"Oh, just because he doesn't deal don't mean he's got no connections. With everything Dad did, it's been pretty much impossible to go all the way legit. Paul makes the fake ID's himself, then does some fancy tricks with his computer to make sure they show up in records if anyone checks. James knows where to find guns. He doesn't like to, but he'll do it for me. We're not like the Mafia or anything, though, so don't worry."

"I... guess that's good to know," he frowned. "Okay, your turn."

She rubbed her hands together. "Okay, gimme the dirt. Just how close were you and Kyle, anyway?"

Gilbert rolled his eyes. "You know how he was. Once he got it into his mind that he and I were together, it was just sort of assumed. I don't even remember being asked -- it was just sort of expected of me. I mean, mutants are a minority enough, but gay mutants? I really think that it was just expected of both of us, so we both went with it."

"Well... that almost answered the question. Did you love him?

"Not as much as he probably wanted me to," Gilbert admitted. "I think that might be part of the reason he left, too."

Jennifer yawned and stretched, very nearly exposing herself in the process. Gilbert had to wonder if she was this comfortable around all men, or if she didn't feel threatened by him because of his own preferences.

"Why did you stop skating?" he asked, trying to get the question session back on track.

She cocked an eyebrow at him. "Puberty," she said, simply.

Gilbert thought about this. "What?"

"Puberty. Before puberty, I was good. I mean, really good. Forget Nancy Kerrigan, man, I was on my way. And then in the off-season, I'd do gymnastics. The bars, the horse, floor exercises... the whole deal."

"Then what happened at puberty? Your mutant power?"

"Actually, that kicked in a while later," she shrugged. "But yeah, it played merry hell with me, having random flashes of good and bad luck."

"But what else?" Gilbert asked, puzzled.

She gave him that sarcastic look from under one eyebrow again, then held her hands to her breasts. "You ever tried doing floor exercises with these things?"

"Oh," he nodded. "So you meant..."

"Puberty," she nodded. "Meaning by the time I was thirteen, I was already wearing a forty-two D and had hips out to here." She held her hands a few feet apart to emphasize the point. "Shot my balance all to hell. Watch figure-skaters sometime. Not an ounce of fat on their bodies. No boobs, no hips, no nothing."

"So you quit?" he asked.

"Had to. Gilbert, I'm serious -- I kept falling down doing my double axles. Doing gymnastics hurt like a sonofabitch. I had to give it up."

"Well, couldn't you have... I dunno, gotten surgery or something?"

"Never," she said, shaking her head. "That was my mother's shtick, not mine. I swear, the woman had so many nose jobs, tucks, lifts, every other damn thing... she was a piece of plastic. I told myself real early on that I'd never do that to myself."

There was a silence, and Gilbert watched the conflicting emotions on her face. She seemed an odd mix of proud and regretful, combined, as always, with the sadness the past months had given her.

"I guess it's your turn," he offered.

She shook her head. "I'm all out," she sighed. "In more ways than one."

"Want to call it a night?"

She nodded slowly, then seemed to change her mind. "No, wait. Just one more."

"Shoot."

"Gilbert," she began, then paused. "You're getting in pretty deep here, Buns. This is genuine revenge I'm talking, here. I'm not planning on sending these guys to jail, you know. They've got a much... warmer place to go. This is the real thing. Are you sure you want in on this?"

"I'm coming with you," he nodded. "If you still want me."

"I can count on you, then? You won't... rabbit on me?"

"Don't worry. I'm with you for the duration."

She nodded, again looking that mix of pleased and sad. She then scooted over and gave him a huge hug. "Thanks," she said, simply.

"Anytime."

With one last vague smile, she got up off the bed and padded to the door. "Get some sleep, now," she called over her shoulder.

"You too."

With one last nod, she was gone. Gilbert leaned back, looked up at the ceiling, and let out a deep sigh. This was going to be harder than he thought. It still shocked and amazed him that happy go-lucky Jennifer could joke about her breasts at one moment and then very calmly discuss murdering someone the next. At least he was getting some response out of her, though. He hated to think about what she'd be like taking this road to vengeance alone.

Perhaps it was not too late to help her. It wouldn't be easy, of course, but he had to try. He liked to believe that there would be justice in the world, else he never would have come, but even with everything Brainwash and Camouflage had done, he couldn't let them make Jennifer a murderer on top of it all... could he?

McAudry house, La Jolla CA
Friday, 17 December 1993 11:40 am PST

Doug shut off the cordless phone and folded down the antenna. "Well, that takes care of the reservations."

Ric sat up on the weight bench and looked across the poolside at him. "So you're really going to France, huh?"

"Looks that way," Doug nodded. "Angie's mother wants to meet me."

"Takin' the boy home to meet the folks," Ric snickered. "Gonna be a cozy little vacation for the two of you, eh, Ramsey?"

"Well, not quite. Sharon's coming, too."

"Oog," Ric grunted, putting his hands to his chest, as though he'd been shot. "Denied."

"Hey, I've got no problems with it."

"Of course you don't," Ric grinned, knowingly.

"So where are you headed after Christmas, then?" Doug asked in reply.

"I'm not sure yet," Ric admitted. "With Rahne going home to Scotland for a couple'a weeks, I don't really have any plans."

"Why aren't you going with her, anyway?"

Ric frowned. "She... said that it'd prolly be best if we were both alone for a while. But voluntarily, this time. I'm cool with it if she's cool with it. Maybe I'll head up the coast to check in on some friends."

"Why don't you go with Dani and Warlock?" Doug suggested. "I'll bet they'd be glad to have you along."

"I don't know, man," said Ric, grimacing as he massaged his arms. "I never was too big on all that camping out stuff. Naah, I think I'll make me a road trip of my own. Maybe up north, maybe back down into Mexico, I dunno. The open road, that kind'a thing."

"Cool," Doug nodded. "Don't take the other fender off the bug this time, okay?"

"You're a funny guy, Ramsey."

"Letterman's got nothing on me," Doug nodded, standing up and heading back into the house, phone in hand. Ric shrugged and went back to his workout.

Once inside the house, Doug considered his options. He still had another final later in the day, and two more the following day (what rocket scientist, he wondered, had scheduled finals week to go Tuesday through Saturday, anyway? The four-day weekend had been nice, but...), so it would probably be prudent to study, if for no other reason than to make sure Dani wouldn't grouse at him about his memory. The least he could do was look studious...

Then the phone in his hand rang. He was so startled that he nearly dropped it, but he held on long enough to pull out the antenna and switch it on. "McAudry house," he said into the receiver.

"Hey, Aaron, you old sonuvagun! What's new?"

"Ace!" Doug grinned, quickly getting his Irish accent into place. "Nice to hear from you, A.C.! How did the interview go at the MassAc?"

"That's why I called, actually," Kokiadis replied. "Is Erica there?"

"What, my opinion not good enough for you?" Doug joked.

"No, I just need to talk it over with another longhair."

"Thanks a bunch. Hold on, I'll find her for you."

Doug trotted down the hallway into the living wing, then peeked into Dani's room to find her hard at work cleaning the place up. One could always tell when it was finals week when Dani was around, since it was the only time she really got industrious with keeping the place neat. Anything to keep from studying. "Yo, Chief," he called out. "Telephone."

"Who is it?" she asked, looking up at him.

"He of the altogether interesting last name," Doug replied, handing her the phone.

"Ace!" Dani smiled, taking the phone. "H'lo, A.C.!" she said. After a pause, she laughed and looked up at Doug. "He says to say he heard the joke about the name, and that revenge will be sweet."

"Tell him I'm shivering in my sneakers," Doug grinned back, then left Dani to her call.

He retired to his own room, then, to try to figure out something to do to fill the time until his next final, or at least until Marie-Ange and Sharon got back. He thought about it for a while, then came to a very abrupt decision.

Hearing from A.C. had reminded Doug of the Academy, and of his own guilt regarding that subject. It had been far too long, and he needed to do something.

Dani was on the phone, though, and probably would be for a long time. Doug didn't really want to call using the line from his computer, so he got up and walked around the house to the opposite side, and opened the door to his father's office. There was yet another phone here, which his father had once used as a business line. Doug had re-connected it some time back, simply because one phone line was not enough for a house of seven people.

He sat down at the mahogany desk, put his feet up, picked up the phone, and dialed.

After a few rings, he got a recorded voice-mail message. "Hi, this is Jenny Stavros. Leave a message at the beep."

Doug hung up, then called again, this time dialing the extension for her office at the math department. Again, he only got voice mail. "Hi, you've reached Jennifer Stavros. I'm not in my office right now, but if you'll leave a message, I'll get back to you as soon as I can."

Doug hung up again, then re-dialed her personal extension. This time, though, he left a message. "Hi, Jenny, this is Aaron McAudry. Sorry I haven't called for so long... Things have been pretty weird out here. I just wanted to check in, and see how you were doing. Give me a call back sometime in the next week... we really should talk. Take care of yourself, Jen. 'Bye."

He put the phone down and sighed. For some reason he couldn't put his finger on, he got the feeling that he was already too late.
 
 

Next: "Entre Nous"

Go West #15: "Bravado"
by Jeremy Bottroff, 12 March 1994

This story (c) 1994, 1999 Jeremy Bottroff

"Bravado" performed by Rush, lyrics by Neil Peart, music by Alex Lifeson and Geddy Lee, (c) 1991 Atlantic Recording Corporation and Anthem Music/CORE (SOCAN), from the album ROLL THE BONES

Haroun Al-Rashid (Jetstream), Beef, Bevatron, Marie-Ange Colbert (Tarot), Emma Frost (White Queen), Danielle Moonstar (Mirage), James Proudstar (Thunderbird/Warpath), Rouglas Ramsey (Cypher), Rictor, Sebastian Shaw (Black King), Rahne Sinclair (Wolfsbane), Sharon Smith (Catseye), Jennifer Stavros (Roulette), Warlock, Hellfire Club, Hellions, X-Men, Massachusetts Academy (c) 1999 Marvel Entertainment Group

William Buchwald (Camouflage), Kyle Burns (Wraith), Gilbert Dane (Rabbit), Chief DeCandido, Jean-Pierre Delacroix (Lightningrod), Thomas Grindle (Hardbody), Robert Jefferson (Bacchus), E. Raymond Joel (Stat), Aaron Jorgensen (Rush), Keiko Kimota (Floater), Michael MacPherson (Dreamwalker), Sylvia Maurant, Lt. "Mack" McElhatton, Carlos Salazar, Cassie and Paul Spangler (Gemini), James and Paul Stavros, Akiko Tanaka (Dragon), Daniel Weller (Dough-Boy), Marsha Wilson (Farsight), Kristina Yarborough (Embers), Dent Hall, the Hurricanes, the Rollers created by Jeremy Bottroff, (c) 1999 Jeremy Bottroff

Kelly Adams (Current), Devin Johnson (Brainwash), Sean McDermott (Pathfinder), Simon Walters (Recall) created by Michael Jones, (c) 1999 Michael Jones/Everbard

A.C. Kokiadis created by Keith R.A. DeCandido, (c) 1999 Keith R.A. DeCandido/Albe-Shiloh

The details of A.C.'s interview and subsequent talk with Danielle may be found in "Piled High and Deep" by Keith R.A. DeCandido, elsewhere on the site

The Mutant Fair is... oh, you know the drill.

Dr. Marina Frants is another one of those folks based on real people, but should be considered (c) Jeremy Bottroff for the purposes of the story, as it's not a direct Tuckerization.  So Hi to Mrs. Keith!

Trix is a registered trademark of General Mills, I believe, but I don't think that's quite what Jenny was referring to...