GO WEST

Chapter 18: "Jonas and Ezekiel"

Rahne Sinclair found herself idly wondering if her current actions could be considered a step closer to or further from the Father. She told herself, and God (keeping a running commentary to Him going in her mind as she struggled with the window), that she was here for knowledge, and that if she were to ask for it, she'd no doubt be turned down, all things taken into consideration. She doubted the good Lord would begrudge her this new interest in her past, but hoped that He would consider her intentions above her methods.

By this time, she managed to get the window unlocked and prop it open enough for her to squeeze through. She had to lower her pack through the opening first, then shift back into her smaller human form to follow, but once she pulled herself inside, she immediately reverted back to one of her intermediate forms, this one somewhere around a two on the numerical scale she and Professor Xavier had devised those many months ago (with 0 being fully human and 9 being fully wolf): still human enough to get around and easily manipulate objects, but wolfen enough that her enhanced senses would aid her.

She crouched down and took a look around the empty kitchen she'd lowered herself into. She remembered this place well enough, from all the time she'd spent here as a child, in the custody of the church. Her wolf sight helped her to see more details in the dark, even as her nose told her that no one had been through here for hours. From here, she could find her way to where she needed to be. Taking a moment to slip her small backpack over her shoulders, she proceeded with her mission.

Six years ago, this place had been her home, as it had been for all of her childhood life. Then her mutant power manifested for the first time, changing her into (to use the words of the Reverend and most of the congregation) a Hell-spawned creature from the pits (he was never one for understatement, Rahne thought to herself, nor one to care about being redundant). Now here she was, the same Hell-spawned creature that had so terrified the good folk so long ago during that first uncontrolled shift in the middle of the bloody sermon. She was breaking into her former home like a thief, sneaking about in the dead of night, and hoping to steal something from the office of the Reverend himself. If he could see her now, she was sure he would say that all of his fears had come true...

But this was for a good cause, she kept telling herself.

Various parts of her mind waged terrible war with one another over the whole situation as she crept down the silent hallways of the church, making sure not to wake any sleeping wards, or Heaven forbid, the Reverend himself. Her well-developed sense of guilt had a lot to say, as could be expected, while the part in charge of gauging her own wickedness was reminding her that she probably wouldn't be here if it weren't for bloody Marie-Ange Colbert, who went and got her all bloody curious about her true origins during a talk they'd had just before break.

Perhaps it went to show. After taking seriously what Marie-Ange had to say a time or two, already she was breaking into churches in the dead of night. A lovely progression in her life.

But that line of thought wouldn't get her anywhere, and it made her guilt come out and remind her that blaming anyone else for this situation was useless, when it was only obvious who was truly at fault.

Thankfully, her rational mind (a relatively small and ignored mental force that had thankfully come into use more often in the past few years) stepped in and reminded everyone else that This Was A Good Thing To Do. Marie-Ange had told her once before to confront the teachings of her childhood and try to make her own decisions about her faith, her beliefs, and her past. Now she was here to do so.

The Reverend's office was not locked, which mildly surprised Rahne, but then, who would they expect to be breaking into a church? She opened the door slowly, grimacing as its creaking cut through the silence. Once opened enough for her to slip inside, she did so, not closing it behind her (no sense making any more noise than she had to).

The office was small and neat, with a single battered desk, several shelves filled with neatly-arranged books, and the object of Rahne's quest, a four-drawer wooden file cabinet.

Even though her wolf-eyes could see remarkably well in the dark, there was not sufficient light for her to read by, so she reached around and dug a small flashlight out of her pack. This would be enough; it wouldn't do to turn on the lights and draw attention to herself.

The first drawer was useless to her, containing notes on old sermons. The second, however, was what Douglas would have called paydirt. Several dozen manila file folders, each with a name written on the file tab, neatly arranged in alphabetical order. These were the Reverend's own files and notes on previous and present wards or students of the church. After working her way toward the back of the drawer, she located her own.

SINCLAIR, R.

Marking the place from which she'd taken it, she pulled the folder out, held it in one hand, and opened it with the other, keeping the light grasped in her teeth as she scanned the first few papers (newspaper clippings on the sightings of the "beast" that had taken the body of a young ward of the church). She also noticed several written copies of reprimands or commendations (far more of the former) pertaining to her schoolwork.

Near the end, though, she found what she had come for. It was a handwritten page of notes written by the Reverend himself, detailing her birth, and her subsequent abandonment. The page spoke rather bluntly and unflatteringly about her mother, and her abandonment of her daughter to the church, and to the Reverend. Beverly Sinclair, it said her name was, wife of...

Rahne's eyes widened.

At about the same moment, the lights came on. She whirled about, the flashlight dropping from her teeth, and she found herself looking at a face she'd hoped she'd never see again, but which had haunted her dreams for years. There was more grey in his hair and beard now, and the beard was longer and more unruly than ever, but those eyes... those shocked, horrified eyes were the same eyes she had looked into that first time her wolf-self had opened its own and looked upon the suddenly new and hostile world...

The man who had lied to her her entire life.

The Reverend Philip Craig.

Rahne let the file fall to the ground as she quickly and fluidly leaped across the room, shifting to about a six as she did. She grabbed the man by the front of his nightshirt and held him against the wall, bringing her snarling lupine face within inches of his.

"Ye lied t'me!" she growled, her words heavily distorted by this form. "Ye were the only truth I w's e'er allowed to know, and ye lied!!"

His mouth worked silently for a moment. He was afraid of her, just as he'd been afraid of her those years ago. "W-what're ye doin' here?!" he quavered.

"Ye said ye didna' know who m'father was, ye bloody liar!" she snarled at him. "What else did ye lie t'me about m'whole life?!"

"What're..." he gasped, "what're ye talkin' about?"

"The Reverend Michael Sinclair of Inverness, tha's who I'm bleedin' well talkin' about! Why did ye ne'er tell me?!"

She pushed him aside and made for the door. Craig managed to catch himself on his desk and turn around to face her. "Nae, lass, ye dinna understand!"

"Och, I understand, Reverend," she shot back, placing an unfriendly emphasis on the last word. "I understand all too well."

That said, she raced down the dark hallways until she reached the door to the courtyard and gardens. She emerged into the night air, then leaped the outer wall, and was free. Immediately after she landed, she raced off through the darkened streets of the little port town, her pack bouncing across her back.

All the while as she ran, one thought ran through her mind over and over, repeated like a mantra.

"He's alive! My father's alive!"

McAudry house, La Jolla, CA
Friday, 31 December 1993 8:23 pm PST

For the first time in several days, the front gate to the McAudry house rolled open. Immediately thereafter, a blue Volkswagen bug rolled past the threshold, down the cobblestone path, and parked in front of the house.

Both doors then swung open, and in a matter of seconds, Ric and his four companions piled out and made a break for some much-needed open space.

"'Oh, sure, we can fit all five of us in the bug,'" Gomi grumbled, glaring over at Ric as he massaged his legs, trying to get some feeling back in them. Chad the Bionic Lobster scuttled about his human friend, clicking his pincers in an agitated manner.

"I don't wanna hear it, Gomi," Ric growled, doing a couple of stretches himself. He looked around at the group, taking stock of the situation. Gomi, Mickey and Link looked uncomfortable enough, given that all three of them had been scrunched into the too-small back seat (none of them were terribly large, but it was still a tight squeeze). Sybil, though, seemed worse off than all of them.

He looked up at Sybil, who was hovering several feet above, brushing invisible specks from her costume, the look on her face being indication enough that she was miserable. Since her flight nowhere near matched the speed of the bug, she had been forced to ride with them, and it had not been a pleasant trip for her. The vinyl front seat, smooth as it was from years of use, was nowhere near soft enough for her tastes, and she had spent the entire time on the road trying to hover just an inch or so away from every surface in the car's interior. It wasn't enough.

Ric shook his head to clear it, finding that he was staring at Sybil rather than keeping with the task at hand. "Okay, let me just get some stuff here, and then we'll keep going."

He keyed in the code to deactivate the alarms, then fished his keys out of his pocket and opened the big front doors. He hustled down the hall to the living wing, then into Danielle's bedroom. In her closet, under a pile of sweaters which he hastily shoved aside, was a plain cardboard box.

"What're you looking for?" asked Link, standing at the doorway to the room.

"Jesus!" Ric gasped, startled by Link's appearance. "Look, just wait outside, and I'll be out in a second, okay?"

"Alright, alright, no need to be grumpy," Link shrugged, heading back out.

Ric pulled out the box and unfolded the top to reveal about a dozen extra of the X-somebody uniforms the La Jolla gang had been given by Forge at the time of their departure from Xavier's. Even with everyone on the team having a couple of their own, there were still plenty of spares. Not paying too much attention to size (none of them were as small as Rahne, so the one-size-fits-most would probably work here), he grabbed three, paused, grabbed a fourth just in case Hector would need one, then put the box back. He made another short sidetrack to get his own costume out of his room, then left the living wing and continued around to the kitchen, the uniforms bundled under his left arm.

"Niiiice place!" came Gomi's voice from the cavernous dining/family rooms. "Lots nicer than the hotel, that's for sure!"

Startled again, Ric rounded on him. "Gomi, didn't I tell you guys to wait outside?"

"Um, no, actually, you didn't," Gomi replied, looking abashed.

Ric paused, thought about this, then nodded. "Oh. I guess not. Never mind." He went down the hall a ways further, pausing at the small pegboard where all of the car keys were left hanging.

Dani's truck wouldn't cut it, Ric knew, having even less room than the bug. He considered taking the BMW, but then he tried to project Doug's reaction if Ric were to ask to take his car down into Mexico, and thought better of it.

There was the minivan, though. That would work out well.

He grabbed the keys and continued his lap around the house, Gomi following close behind. They found Mickey along the way, peeking into the living room.

"Geez, can't I leave you guys alone for a minute?" Ric sighed, feeling the first signs of genuine annoyance.

"How many people you live here with, Ric?" Mickey asked, eyes wide.

"Too many, most of the time. Come on, let's go."

Once outside, Ric tossed a costume-bundle each to Link, Gomi and Mickey. "We may need these later," he told them. "Sybil, I figure you already have a costume, so you won't need one. Is that cool?"

"Yes," Sybil nodded slowly, looking down at him from her place in the air.

"Cool. We got new wheels, too, so hopefully it'll be smoother from here." He reached back into the bug, found his garage door control, then pressed the single button, causing the garage doors to slowly rise.

"Niiiice place!" Gomi repeated, getting a look into the spacious garage and seeing what was parked inside.

Ric pointed out the minivan as he strode toward it, then opened up the sliding side door. "Next stop, Baja!" Ric grinned, looking at the rest of his team. His team. It felt good to think it. Even as much as they were on his nerves, they were his team, and he was their leader. Kick ass.

"Ric?" Sybil said, raising one hand.

"Uh, yeah?" he asked her.

"I will not go in there," she stated, simply.

Ric's face fell. "Why not?"

"I can feel it from here. The seats are rough..." She shivered involuntarily.

"Oh, come on, it can't be that bad, can it?"

The look she gave him made him think that maybe it could after all.

An idea struck. "Okay, I'll be right back. Wait here."

He darted back into the house, retraced his steps to Dani's room, then gathered up the pile of sweaters he'd cast aside minutes before. This felt like it would be enough, but just to be sure, he scurried over to Angie's and Sharon's room to take a look. Angie liked to wear silk, he knew, not to mention soft, gauzy skirts and other frilly things. He took a few down from where they were hanging, promising to have them cleaned and put back as soon as this mess was over.

He carried the mass outside, and held it out in Sybil's direction. "How's this?" he asked.

Her face lit up, and she stretched out both arms, as though to take the pile from his arms. To his alarm, she did just that, levitating it out of his grasp and into her own. She smiled at him, then swooped into the open minivan door, settling into the very back seat and making herself a nest. "Hey, knock yourself out, kid," he thought, incongruously.

"Okay, we ready to go?" he asked the remaining three.

Mickey raised one hand. "Uh, Ric?"

"Yeah?"

"Uh, where's the bathroom?"

Ric put his face in his hands and began to slowly count to ten.

Mutant Research Facility, Muir Isle, Scotland
Saturday, 1 January 1994 6:14 am

The first morning of the new year had come, and Rahne spent it lying awake in bed, looking up at the ceiling of her room at the Facility. Even though she'd been up late to count down the seconds with Lady Moira and Sean, she'd been unable to sleep through her new knowledge. When sleep finally did come, it had been a restless, oft-interrupted rest, and by now, she was ready to just give up the fight.

"My father's alive!" her mind shouted again, as it had so many times in the past thirty hours. And now she knew it to be true, beyond her vague hunch. Upon checking records (mostly telephone directories and newspaper archives in Lady Moira's library), she had found him. The Reverend Michael Sinclair, her father, was alive and well in Inverness, giving his sermons every Sunday and working with the community every other day of the week, it seemed. She found dozens of articles about the man in the archives, all lauding him for his selfless work, and his invaluable support to his home. Organizing volunteers for soup queues to feed the poor, gathering presents for needy children at Christmastime, food drives at Easter, efforts to build shelters for the abused and the homeless, work with drug and alcohol addicts... There was not a charity that went unignored, many of them his work entirely.

And he would be giving his Sunday sermon the very next day, welcoming the new year.

Here, Rahne found herself in conflict. It would be easy, in theory, to go to Inverness the next morning and hear his service, then talk to him afterwards and let him know that he had a daughter. Lady Moira, the closest Rahne had to a true parent, had encouraged her to do so, as had the Lady's love Sean Cassidy (Banshee, the former X-Man). Both of them had been so thrilled with her news that she had found her father that they hadn't seemed to notice her hesitance.

What was she afraid of, though?

The list was already long, and getting even longer as she thought about it all. He was a man of charity, selflessly giving of himself at all times. Could she live up to his example? Would he be embarrassed to know that he had a daughter who lived as she did? Would he be horrified to know that his daughter was a mutant, as Reverend Craig had been? Would he even acknowledge her after all these years? After all, there had to be a reason why Beverly had left while still pregnant with Michael's child. Perhaps he hadn't ever wanted a child at all...

"Good mornin', love," came a voice, interrupting her thoughts. She looked up to see a weary-looking Moira MacTaggert peeking into the room, smiling softly.

"Good mornin'," Rahne half-smiled in reply.

"Couldn't ye sleep?" Moira asked, slipping into the room and quietly closing the door behind her. She was still in her dressing gown, and had both arms wrapped around herself, as though for warmth.

Rahne shook her head. "I canna stop thinkin' of him."

"Aye, I b'lieve ye," Moira nodded. "Ye looked so excited when ye told us yesterday."

"Aye," Rahne repeated, nodding slowly.

The conversation faltered, and Rahne looked anywhere but at her foster mother.

"There's more, isn't there?" Moira asked at length.

A pause. "Aye."

Moira sat down at the edge of the girl's bed. "Tell me."

This time, it was a longer pause. "I just have so many questions," Rahne sighed. "So many doubts. I canna e'en be sure tha' he'll welcome me after all these years of ne'er knowin' I existed."

"Aye, but there's only one way to find out, now, isn't there?"

Rahne went on nodding slowly. "But... e'en if he does... accept me," she began, but broke off. Moira waited for her to continue. "If he does believe me, and does accept me, an' I have a real father at last, will ye... Will ye..?"

"Will I what, lass?"

Rahne looked up at the ceiling to try to stop the tears. "Will ye still... want me?" she finished, lamely.

At this, Moira immediately came over and held the girl to her. "Now, Rahne, love, what kind'a talk is tha'? Ye'll always be m'daughter, Rahne. Always. I dinna e'er want tha' t'change."

They sat that way for a long while, Rahne letting her brief tears pass. She should have known better than to doubt the Lady. "I love you, Mummy."

"An' I love you, Rahne." They broke, and Moira smiled at her. "So, what shall it be for yuir father?"

Rahne thought about this for a long moment. "I dinna know yet... I know when and where he'll be preachin' t'morrow."

"Will ye be there?"

"I... dinna know yet. I need t'think on it more."

"Alright," Moira nodded. "Whatever ye decide, though, Sean and I will help ye any way we can, love."

"Thank ye, Mummy."

Ensenada, Baja California, Mexico
Saturday, 1 January 1994 3:13 am PST

The town was mostly dead by the time Ric and company breezed in. The new year celebrations were all coming to a close, and the locals were heading home to sleep off the night's festive mood.

Ric pulled the minivan off to the side of one of the main roads and parked it. He then took a series of deep breaths and looked out the windshield, not saying a word.

"So," Gomi asked from the passenger's seat, "where do we go now?"

To be honest, Ric had been wondering that for a while. In his hurry to get them to Ensenada and find Hector, he had neglected to consider how exactly to go about the actual finding part. He'd forgotten that Ensenada was a pretty good-sized place, especially when you were looking for someone who probably wasn't going out of his way to be found.

"He must be expecting us," Link offered at last.

"That's right," Ric nodded. "Yeah, he should. He sent the telegram, so he must be expectin' a rescue."

"If he'd just given us a place to meet him in the telegram, though..." Mickey sighed. "How does he expect us to find him?"

Peering across the street, Ric saw a couple of drunks staggering out of a bar, singing "Auld Lang Synd," both out-of-key and in Spanish. The bar still seemed to be open, though. Ric had an idea.

"Look, you guys wait here an' guard the wheels, okay?" he said, turning to look at the whole group. "I'm gonna go ask a few questions."

"You shouldn't go in alone, Rictor," Link advised him.

"Nah, it's better if I do. I'm inconspicuous 'round here. You guys don't look much like locals, y'know." He pointed to Link's mime-face, Mickey's white hair, Sybil's flamboyant costume, and then, lastly, at Chad. "B'sides, I speak the language. Just hold on, and if I'm not out in fifteen minutes, come in an' knock the place down."

It probably hadn't been necessary to give that last suggestion, but it sounded like something a team leader should tell his group. "Just hold on, an' I'll be back in a sec."

He popped open his door, then hopped out onto the road and closed it behind him. Pausing a second to check his appearance in the side mirror, he sauntered across the street and headed into the open bar.

The place was a mess, as could be expected, with bottles, confetti and shards of broken glass all over the place. A fat guy with a bushy black moustache was doing his best to clean the place up, and another guy was back behind the bar, trying to straighten things up. They were the only ones conscious; there were four other people in the bar, but they were out cold, three slouched over their tables, and one on the floor.

Ric approached the bar, aware that both pairs of eyes were on him. He stopped at the bar, and put both hands up on the flat top. "Buenas noches, amigos. Que tal?"

"<You want a drink, kid?>" the tall guy behind the bar asked.

"<Not now. I'm looking for someone, and I was wondering if you'd seen him.>"

The tall guy snorted. "<Maybe. What's he look like?>"

"<He's a big guy, about this high, about my age, built like a football player, with cropped black hair. His name's Hector.>"

"<Must be about a dozen guys around here who look like that, kid.>" He went back to wiping out shot glasses.

"<Yeah, maybe. I'm thinking he might've come in here looking for someone too, though. You remember that?>"

"<Maybe. How about some names?>"

"<He's looking for a guy named Juan Cantolobos.>"

The bartender dropped his shot glass, and it shattered on the floor. Ric had the sudden impression that he was in a movie. "So," a dramatic voice said in his head, "the Iguana returns!"

"Chico!" the bartender called to the fat guy. "<Close up. Get those guys outta here.>"

"<Okay,>" Chico nodded. He then went and grabbed a pair of the drunks and bodily lifted them out of their seats. He carried them out the door, one under each arm.

"<We'll talk in the back, okay, amigo?>" the bartender nodded to Ric. "<What's your name, anyway?>"

"<Ramon. What's yours?>"

"<Fernando. Come on back to my office.>"

Ric followed Fernando through a doorway behind the bar, and suddenly realized how this was going to look to the rest of his group. All they would see would be Chico throwing out the drunks, then locking up the door, Ric still inside. How would they react to that? Hopefully they wouldn't come and knock the place down like he'd said...

Fernando's office was a small, squalid cubicle lit by one light bulb hanging from the ceiling. Fernando came around to sit at a battered desk, and motioned for Ric to have a seat in a rickety wooden chair opposite him. "<So what do you know about Cantolobos?>" Fernando asked.

"<I never met the guy,>" Ric admitted, sitting down in the chair. "<I just know what Hector told me, and I know that Hector came here looking for him. So does this mean you've seen Hector, or what?>"

"<What it means, amigo,>" said Fernando, reaching into his desk, "<is that you'll keep your hands where I can see them and shut up.>"

With that, Fernando produced a pistol and aimed it casually at Ric's chest. Ric tensed, instinctively wanting to use his power on the man, but the time it would take to build up a quake was a lot more than it would take to pull that trigger. He found himself wishing he'd worn his costume under his clothes. What had he been thinking? This wasn't some spy movie, this was a guy with a real gun!

The door opened, but Fernando's aim didn't waver. It was only Chico. "<It's locked, hermano.>"

"<Good. Tie him up.>"

Chico proceeded to lash Ric's arms to the chair with an old extension cord, while Fernando just smiled at him. "<What's this all about?>" Ric asked, trying to keep his voice steady.

"<Well, Ramon, you're not the first one to come in here looking for your friend Hector. Some American guys came in a few days ago and offered us a lot of money for some kid who'd come in looking for Juan Cantolobos. You ain't him, but I figure we should get a little something for giving 'em a friend of his. Don't you think, Chico?>"

"<Oh, yeah,>" Chico nodded. "<That's good thinking, hermano.>"

"<He tied up good?>"

"<Yeah.>" Chico wasn't lying, either. He'd tied Ric's wrists so tightly behind the chair that it was cutting off his circulation.

Ric quickly revised his earlier thoughts, hoping that the gang would come to his rescue after all. Just so they got the gun out of the way first.

Fernando and Chico went back into the bar proper to call this contact of theirs, trusting that Ric wouldn't be going anywhere. He sat alone in the office for a while, testing the cords. His hands weren't going anywhere. Aiming a quake might get him free of the chair, but his hands would still be bound together, and that wouldn't be much help.

With the odd attention to detail one gains while in a situation like this, Ric found himself wondering why Fernando hadn't just used the phone on his desk, but then, following the cord from the phone, he saw that it had, in one point in its history, been ripped from the wall. Lucky for him, though, as it gave him a minute or two to try and get his act together. He stared out of the single high window in the side wall, but it was barred, and there was no way he could get through it with his hands tied.

He suddenly became aware that something was tugging at the cord around his hands. Craning his neck back over his shoulder, he saw a familiar blue shape.

"Chad!" he nearly exclaimed, but he bit down on it. The trusty bionic lobster was already at work trying to snip the cords with his artificially enhanced pincers. He must have snuck in when the brothers had gone out to the bar. But how did he get in the bar in the first place? Ric figured either Gomi sent him in when Chico started throwing guys out, or maybe Chad had followed him all along, sent as backup. Whatever the reason, he was grateful for the assist.

In a couple of grasps and tugs, Chad had Ric's hands free from the chair, and with another, he clipped the part of the cord holding them together. Ric quickly unwrapped his wrists, trying to massage life back into his hands. "Nice going, Chad," he nodded to the lobster. Chad did not reply, but Ric fancied he looked pleased with himself.

Ric decided to try the window, and looked up at it again. Much to his surprise, he saw Sybil's face outlined by the bars. She was waving to get his attention. Ric pulled up the chair he'd been tied to and stood up on it to look out at her. "Sybil, what's going on?" he hissed.

"Gomi says stand back," she said, her voice barely heard through the glass.

For a moment, Ric puzzled at this, but then he realized the younger mutant's intentions. He scooped Chad up off the floor and backed up toward the door.

A moment later, there was a WHAM sound, and a nearly circular piece of the side wall crashed in. Gomi was standing out on the other side, his hands to his temples.

"Nice shot, man!" Ric grinned, poking his head out and looking around. The new door opened up into an alleyway behind the bar. "Come on," he said, handing Chad over to Gomi. "Let's get outta here before they come to see what happened." He flashed a grin and a thumbs-up to Sybil, floating a few feet overhead.

"Don't worry, Mickey and Link are out front running interference," Gomi told him.

Ric's eyes widened. "But these guys've got a gun!"

On cue, the sound of a pistol shot came from inside the bar. Ric and Gomi hesitated about half a second before they both raced back inside, Sybil swooping in behind them.

Ric charged out into the bar to see that the place was in chaos. Link, who had apparently broken down the front door, was holding Fernando a foot off the ground with his telekinesis, while Mickey wrestled with the much-larger Chico. Deciding that Link had things in hand, Ric rushed over to help Mickey out.

"You shot at us!" Link was saying in a shocked growl, looking up at Fernando with wide eyes. "I hate guns!"

It was difficult to get too close to where Mickey and Chico were fighting, as Mickey's phantom telekinesis was working overtime in his agitated state. Tables and chairs were flying everywhere, and Ric had to dodge several projectile bottles and glasses before he could grab Chico's shoulder and pull him off. As soon as Chico looked around to see who this was, Ric clocked him in the face with a right hook, sending him reeling.

Gomi followed up Ric's blow with a second telekinetic battering ram, which slammed into Chico, knocking him back into the wall. The big man slumped to the floor, unconscious.

This done, Ric turned his attention to the other fight. To his shock, he saw that Link was still holding Fernando off the ground, and the barkeep seemed to be strangling, his fingers clawing at his neck as if to pry away invisible hands.

"Shit, Link, what're you doing?!" Ric shouted. "Put him down!"

"He shot at Mickey!" Link said, his tone still aghast. The mime's eyes were glazed with anger, and he was shaking his head slowly.

"Link, it's okay!" Mickey assured him. "I'm fine! He missed!"

Link went on with his telekinetic chokehold nonetheless. He showed no signs of letting up.

"Dude, this is not Star Wars, and you are not Darth Vader!" Ric yelled into Link's ear. "Put him down! now!!"

This, finally, seemed to shock Link out of his trance. He let go with his telekinesis, and Fernando dropped into a heap on the floor. He was still breathing, but not moving.

"Come on, let's move out!" Ric told his team. "Hellfire Club's due to show up here any second, and I don't wanna be here when they do!"

"Where're we gonna go?" Gomi asked.

"I don't know!" Ric shouted, annoyed at the question. "Let's just get in the van and get outta here! We'll find a place to hide out. Let's just go!"

Taking one last look at the fallen brothers, Ric took off outside, and then across the street, the others following after him.

Church of St. Agnes, Inverness, Scotland
Sunday, 2 January 1994 9:53 am

As though pre-arranged by fate, the sermon given by Michael Sinclair that morning had been one of tolerance, and of the need to love one's friends, love one's enemies, and love the unknown. The Reverend had spoken openly of minorities, mutants in particular, and pointed out past acts of violence and brutality against perceived threats and unknowns; he then went on to denounce such acts, calling upon the teachings of Almighty Christ to preach patience and brotherhood.

Rahne had watched from her place near the front of the church, simply transfixed. She could not take her eyes off the man. His black hair and close-cut beard were greying more than in any of the pictures she had seen, but truth be told, he looked no older. Seeing him in person, she realized that he was the most... living person she had seen in many months. Life sparkled in his dark eyes as he spoke each word, and his long-fingered hands were ever in motion, either spread wide dramatically, or illustrating some point within his words, or pointing out at the faithful, asking them to look within themselves, to see what they would find there. He was a dramatic speaker, and his every word went through Rahne's ears and straight into her soul, she felt. And though the church was full, she had the feeling he was speaking to her, and her alone.

After the sermon was over, while most everyone left, Rahne hung back near the front atrium, hoping for a chance to talk with the man. She was not alone in this wish, apparently, as at least a dozen others were already gathered around him, either congratulating him on a well-given sermon, or thanking him for his words, or asking him questions.

The longer they took, the more apprehensive Rahne became. Her always well-developed fears gnawed at her, and she wondered what she'd say to him. "Good mornin', Reverend. 'Twas a wonderful sermon. By the way, I'm yuir daughter, Rahne."

From his words, at least it seemed she wouldn't have to worry about telling him that she was a mutant, but still...

At length, the last stragglers left the building, leaving Rahne alone with...

Her father.

Rahne took a deep breath as she watched him step back up to the lectern to retrieve his notes.

Her father.

She took a few quiet steps forward, toward the altar and the lectern. After a moment, he looked up, noticed her there, and smiled. "G'mornin', lass," he nodded to her.

"Good mornin' to ye, Reverend," she smiled back, hesitantly. "Can... can I talk t'ye for a moment?"

"Aye, of course," he replied, stepping down from the raised dais to stand before her. His smile had changed to a puzzled look, and he seemed to be studying her face carefully. "I've not seen ye here b'fore," he noted.

"'Tis m'first time in yuir church, Reverend," she explained.

"Wha's yuir name, lass?"

"Rahne. Rahne..." she broke off before she could say "Sinclair." She was so used to introducing herself that way that it nearly came out all on its own. She swallowed nervously and went on. "'Twas a lovely sermon ye gave..."

"Lass," Michael said soberly, still looking into her eyes, "ye didnae come t'tell me tha' alone, did ye?"

"Nae, I..." She broke off again, shaking her head. "There's somethin' I need t'tell ye."

He nodded slowly. "Confession is good for the soul, it is. 'Tis verra important, this thing, aye?"

"Aye," she agreed, nodding quickly. "I canna be sure where t'begin t'explain..."

"Then jus' tell me," he assured her, his voice taking a soothing tone.

She nodded again, taking a deep breath to gather her thoughts. "Ye were the husband of Beverly Sinclair," she began.

The Reverend blinked. "Aye," he agreed, his voice dropping to just above a whisper.

"Then..." She paused, then shook her head. "There isna' any other way t'say it. I think... tha' I'm yuir daughter."

There was a long silence, as the Reverend's eyes slowly went wide. Rahne had all that time to think of all the horrible things he was bound to say to her...

Only he didn't. He just stared at her, in shock. Rahne found the silence even more unnerving, so she tried to fill it. "Beverly Sinclair was my mother," she went on. "She... ran away from Inverness b'fore I was born, an' left me t'be a ward in a church in Ullapool, an'..."

"I have a daughter?" Michael interrupted in a shocked whisper.

Rahne ground to a halt. "Aye," she nodded. "I think so."

Michael brought one hand up, and laid the back of his fingers against her face, as though seeing if she were real. "Ye have her eyes," he went on, still in the same dazed tone. "Ye have m' Beverly's eyes."

Lacking any idea what else to do, Rahne did what came naturally. She apologized. "I'm sorry, Reverend, I wish there were an easier way t'tell ye, but..."

To Rahne's surprise, the man smiled, and then Lord above, he laughed! "An easier way? T'tell me the happiest news of m'life?! Praise God in heaven, I have a daughter!"

With a hearty, joyous laugh, Michael put his arms around Rahne and lifted her up off the ground in a crushing embrace. Rahne, much to her own shock, found that she was laughing with him; laughing and crying at the same time. Feeling a flood of relief within her, she buried her face in the man's shoulder, and knew that she would never again be alone; that her father would always be there, as he had always been, waiting for her.

A beach near Ensenada, Mexico
Sunday, 2 January 1994 12:12 am PST

Nearly twenty-four hours away from the incident in the bar, and Ric's blood pressure was finally getting back to normal levels. They'd taken the van out here to the beach and made camp, hoping to remain unmolested, and when they finally had the chance to sleep, they took turns keeping watch, just in case the Hellfire Club should decide to show up. During the day, Ric made a run into a different part of town to pick up supplies, and that had gone well, even if it had been hell on his nerves.

Nearly twenty-four hours away from the incident in the bar, and Ric was still amazed that they had all gotten out of it in one piece. Sure, their only enemies were two local boys with a gun, but one well-placed bullet could have ruined this entire mission in a big way. Since that time, they'd all put on the X-somebody uniforms under their street clothes, for the extra protection offered; it wasn't enough to soothe Ric's nerves.

Nearly twenty-four hours away from the incident in the bar, and Ric still had no idea how they were going to find Hector. He took comfort in the idea that the locals still had it in for him, which suggested that he hadn't been caught yet. Then again, if the Hellfire Club had caught Hector already, they probably wouldn't have told the Flying Burrito Brothers about it; why bother, really?

Ric wandered down the beach from the group's campsite. The van was parked up on a bluff above the waves (with Sybil sleeping inside, tucked away in her nest of soft fabric), and Gomi, Link, Mickey and Chad were roasting franks over a bonfire on the beach itself, but Ric wasn't too comfortable sharing it with them. They were all looking to him for leadership, he knew, and he had no suggestions to make. Some leader he was shaping out to be.

A distant sound reached his ears, and in his self-reflection, he very nearly missed it entirely. Thankfully, some part of his brain was taking note, and it woke up the other parts to tell them what they'd just heard.

A wolf howl.

With a surge of anticipation mixed with relief, Ric froze, then turned in a slow circle, trying to determine from which direction the sound had come. Obviously not the ocean, so that left the beach toward the gang, the beach away from the gang, and inland.

The sound came again, but muffled as it was by the continuous sounds of the surf, Ric couldn't really tell from where it was coming. It had to be Hector, though. It had to be. How many wolves do you get down by the beach, anyway?

"Okay, now what?" he asked himself.

A third howl, this one longer than the other two. Ric had a sudden flash of inspiration. He tilted his head back, cupped his hands to his mouth, and did his best to howl a reply.

There was a momentary silence, followed by another howl. This one was in a higher register and had a little inflection on the end: a raising of the pitch which seemed to suggest a question. Ric howled again, as best he could.

He stood there for a while, waiting for some kind of response. At first, the only sound was that of the waves, but then, he began to notice the sound of approaching footsteps in the sand. He looked around, but saw nothing.

"Torres!"

Ric whirled as, seemingly out of nowhere, Hector came running up to meet him. Ric grinned and met him halfway, arm extended to clasp with Hector's in a warrior-handshake. "Hector! Man, am I glad to see you!"

"Likewise!" Hector grinned. "Torres, that was the sorriest excuse for a howl I've ever heard, man."

"Ah, give it a rest. Hey, come on back to camp with me. We got some things to talk about."
 
 

When Ric and Hector arrived back at the campfire, introductions were in order. "Hector, you already know Mickey," Ric began, pointing to the young mutant in question.

"Sure! How's it goin', Mick?"

"Pretty good, Hector!" Mickey grinned.

"Well, anyway," Ric went on, "this is Link, this is Gomi, and the lobster's name is Chad. Guys, this is Hector, otherwise known to us mere mortals as Wolfsong."

"Pleased to make your acquaintance," Link smiled, shaking Hector's hand.

"Yeah, we've heard a lot of good things about you!" Gomi added. "Glad to see you're still okay."

"Yeah, I'm fine," Hector nodded, shaking Gomi's hand as well. He gave Chad a sideways look, but apparently thought better of asking any questions he might later regret.

"Sybil's asleep in the van," Ric added, motioning his thumb over his shoulder. "Lucy and Kate didn't come."

"Yeah, I was gonna ask," Hector nodded. "It's good to see you all, but what're you doing here?"

There was an awkward silence. "We... got your telegram," Mickey said at last. "It said you were here, and you were in danger!"

"Yeah!" Ric added. "You said the Hellfire Club was after you, remember?"

"Well, they were," Hector nodded. "You guys didn't get my second telegram, then?"

"What second telegram?" Ric asked.

Hector put his face in his hands and shook his head. "Dios, I'm sorry, guys. Y'see, not long after I sent that first telegram, I managed to ditch the Hellfire guys. They went ahead and pulled up out of town, figuring I'd gone someplace else. I sent another telegram right after, to tell you guys there was no danger."

"Oh," Ric nodded, slowly.

There was a long pause, and then, much to everyone's surprise, Mickey started to laugh. After a moment, Gomi started laughing, too, soon to be joined by Link. Even Ric saw the humor, and managed a chuckle himself.

"Well, I think our first mission was a success," Gomi snorted. "We had a neat little fight, some property damage, and everything!"

"Yeah, I saw that!" Hector laughed. "That wreck looked like your kind'a action, never mind that the barkeeps were babbling about mutants, a ghost boy with white hair, mimes, and a longhair."

"Yeah, we left a calling card, alright," Mickey nodded.

"I thought it might've been you guys, so I started checking around. I started howling around town, hoping one of you'd recognize me. And here you are!"

"Wait a second," Ric interrupted, feeling a sudden sinking sensation in the area of his stomach. "Hector, you say the Hellfire guys gave up on you?"

"That's right," Hector nodded.

"Well, when I went into that place looking for you, the owner of the bar said there were some Americans who offered 'em a lot of money if they found you."

"Yeah, the Hellfire guys've been doing that," Hector shrugged. "I just need to be careful now who I ask about finding Cantolobos."

"Well, that's what I'm worried about," Ric went on. "I went in there lookin' for you, Hector. When they found that out, they tied me up and said they were gonna call these guys; I figured they must'a meant the Hellfire Club."

"Well, you got out, right?" Hector pointed out. "So everything's cool."

"Oh, no," Gomi winced, having caught onto Ric's logic. "Well, since they called the Hellfire Club, that should bring them back here to investigate. If they find out that a friend of Hector's was here looking for him..."

"...that might make them want to take another look around here," Link finished.

After a brief silence, Ric shook his head. "Shit. We might'a just led 'em back onto your trail."

"Hey, it ain't your fault," Hector said, dismissing the matter. His eyes, however, showed his obvious concern.

"We should probably get out of town," Gomi suggested.

"Right," Ric nodded. "Hector, we'll get you outta here. Let's break camp, guys."

Before any of them could make a move to do so, though, there was a burst of sound and light, and out of nowhere, several kevlar-armored soldiers with impressive-looking guns materialized around their campsite, weapons leveled at the group. Their body-armor was in shades of red and blue, and their faces were covered by full-face masks with cut-out slits for the eyes and mouth.

"Nobody move!" one bellowed. "Hands up!"

Slowly and carefully, Ric, Hector, Gomi, Mickey and Link raised their hands above their heads, taking a look around to assess the situation. At least a dozen of the armored guards, each one with a gun, against the five of them plus Chad (who was quite suddenly nowhere to be found). They wouldn't have a hope in Hell of nailing all of them before they could open fire.

Another guard, this one unmasked, stepped up from behind the circle of soldiers, smiling at the five. "Hector Sanchez?" he asked, pleasantly.

"Yeah?" Hector growled.

"I'm glad to meet you. My employer wishes to speak with you."

The unmasked leader then addressed his soldiers. "That's the one we're after," he said, pointing to Hector. "The others are expendable."

Sinclair house, Inverness, Scotland
Sunday, 2 January 1994 2:29 pm

Rahne had been through any number of strange circumstances in her life to date, but she found that sitting in the house of the father she never knew she had and chatting with the man over tea was probably one of the oddest to date. There was a sense of unreality to the whole scene, which Michael seemed to notice, and to share. Neither of them could adequately comprehend their good fortune.

So they filled the time with words. Rahne had seventeen years of her own life to explain to her father, and he wanted to hear everything.

In spite of his words of tolerance and acceptance during his sermon, though, Rahne found that she was not ready, yet, to tell him about her own life as a mutant. She told him of growing up as a ward of the church, and of how strict the Reverend was, and of how she always tried so hard to be good and proper... When she came to the year of her... change... she told him that she had run away from the church (this was not untrue, she tried to assure herself), and had been taken in by Moira MacTaggert, who loved her and cared for her, and even sent her to a fine school in America.

"An' now," she said by way of summing up her current situation, "I'm livin' in a beautiful house in California, goin' t'college with friends I made at the school in New York. I'm... hopin' t'study t'be a doctor, an' a healer."

"'Tis amazin', lass," Michael smiled softly, shaking his head. "After livin' in tha' horrid place all those years, ye didna' give up. Ye've made somethin' of yuir life. I canna tell ye how proud I am of ye..."

There was an awkward silence, then, and Rahne looked down into her teacup. "Father..." she began, but broke off.

"Aye?"

She shook her head. "Why... why would mother ha' left me there? Did ye... not want a child?"

"Nae, Rahne, the both of us wanted a child!" he assured her. "We both wanted a child more than anythin' else in the world! An' we'd been... tryin' t'have one for a long time..." Here the Reverend broke off, looking mildly embarrassed.

"Then why would mother ha' left me in that place with Reverend Craig?"

"Well, as f'r why there, yuir mother was from Ullapool, and had attended tha' church f'r all her life. Reverend Craig fancied himself a spiritual leader of all the town, an' when I met Beverly, an' when we fell in love an' were married, I remember him bein' incensed tha' I hadna' asked his permission, he bein' her confessor f'r all those years." Michael nodded carefully. "Reverend Craig was yuir mother's teacher almost as much as he was yuirs. When Beverly... left... I thought he might know where she'd gone, an' he told me he didnae know."

"He lied t'ye?" Rahne asked, aghast.

"Appears tha' way, lass. I still canna be sure why she would've taken ye there, though. What I can tell ye, though, is..." Michael broke off, looking down at his hands.

"What is it, father?"

Michael took a deep breath before continuing. "Beverly was always a wee bit... different. Sometimes... she seemed t'see things that other people couldna' see. She used t'have these... dreams, and she'd see things in her dreams, about her life, about her future. Vivid dreams. I tried always t'tell her tha' they were just dreams, an' that she shouldna' let them affect her so, but..."

After a thoughtful pause, in which Rahne felt a sinking sensation deep within her, Michael went on. "The last days b'fore she disappeared, she was lookin' worse than e'er before. She wasna' able t'sleep at all f'r the dreams, an' yet she wouldna' let me take her to the doctor. Then, she just... left, an' I ne'er saw her again. An' I still dinna even know why..."

"I... think I might," Rahne whispered.

Michael looked back into her eyes, his own care-worn face looking puzzled. "Aye?"

"Aye," Rahne nodded. She would have to tell him; there was no getting around it now. "Ye remember what ye were sayin' in yuir sermon this mornin' about... mutants?"

He nodded, not saying a word.

"I think... maybe... tha' mother could ha' been a mutant. P'rhaps the... dreams ye talked about were real. She may ha' really been seein' the future after all."

"But then why leave?"

Rahne looked away from her father, then. "Because, maybe... she saw what I was t' become..."

There was a long silence. "I dinna understand, Rahne," Michael said at length.

"Father," she sighed, quietly, "I'm a mutant, as well."

Another pause. "Are ye, then?"

"Aye."

"Can ye..." He broke off, took a breath, then continued. "Do ye have dreams like yuir mother, then?"

"Nae, nothin' like that," she replied, shaking her head. "I... c'n change m'self into a wolf."

Michael's eyes widened. "Really?"

"Aye, really. But... not like the werewolves ye hear about in stories, just a wolf with the mind of a wee girl."

"Lord in heaven," Michael whispered, vaguely. His eyes were still wide, but to his credit, he did not shrink away from her, or look at her with disgust, or any of the other awful things she had expected.

"I c'n understand now why she left," Rahne sighed.

Michael furrowed his brow. "Why, then?"

She let out another sigh, this one almost exasperated. "B'cause she saw tha' I would one day become this beast, an' she must ha' known it would bring shame upon ye t'have yuir own daughter be this... thing! Och, when I changed f'r the first time, Reverend Craig thought f'r certain I was the spawn of the Devil himself! All the congregation did!"

"Rahne," Michael said in an even voice, forcing her to stop in the midst of her self-directed tirade. She looked at him reluctantly.

"I am not the Reverend Craig," he said, softly, and she was amazed to see that tears were forming in his eyes. "If yuir mother took ye away from me, afraid that what ye'd be would shame me, then... Och, lass, I can only say I wish she hadna' done so. But tha' was the way he taught her all her life, t'hate all tha' was different. An' to think ye had t'live yuir whole life with that man because she was afraid ye'd shame me..." He shook his head, and the first tears fell.

"Father," Rahne whispered, her own eyes growing moist.

Michael held out his arms to her, and she came over to him and let herself be held. "Dear, dear lass," he sighed. "I wish I could ha' known. I wish she could ha' believed enough t'know I would love ye no matter what ye were, or what ye could do, and I wouldna' be shamed. Can ye forgive me, Rahne?"

"Of course I can!" she replied, amazed. "But why you? 'Tis her I should worry about forgivin', is it na'?"

"Then forgive us both, Rahne. But now tha' ye're here, I promise ye, ye'll always have the father I always wanted t'be for ye."

"Och, thank ye, father."

After an indeterminate length of time, during which the two just shared the closeness and quiet, Michael put his hands on her shoulders and gently held her at arms' length.

"One thing we must do soon," he said, "is go to Ullapool, t'gether, an' have words with Reverend Craig. He has some things t'answer for..."

"We dinna have t'hurry," she smiled. "He'll still be there tomorrow."

"Aye, lass, an' tomorrow, he'll have some explainin' t'do as f'r why he kept ye from me all this time..."

A beach near Ensenada, Mexico
Sunday, 2 January 1994 12:52 am PST

A terrible hush settled over the scene after the final words of the Hellfire squad commander. Ric noticed that both Gomi and Mickey had gone pale as ghosts, and small wonder. He then noticed that he himself was shaking.

No, wait, it wasn't him that was shaking... A wild idea began to form in his mind, and he found himself desperately wishing he were telepathic.

"Whoa, whoa, waitasec, man," he told the leader, making sure to keep his hands in sight. "Before you go 'expending' anyone, you wanna tell us what the hell this is all about?"

The leader gave him a smug grin. "Our employers would like to make your friend Hector here a job offer."

"Why didn'cha ask me to send a fuckin' resumé, then?" Hector growled.

"Oh, we figured the personal touch would work better."

"What if I don't want the job?"

The smile got a little nastier. "That's not an option, Mr. Sanchez."

Hector glanced over at Rictor, assessed his insistent expression, then kept talking. "Okay, fine, if I come with you, will you leave my pals here alone?"

Rictor stared at Link, shouting at the top of his thoughts (for all the good it would do). At last, Link looked back. Without moving his face, Ric suddenly jerked his eyes upward. Hopefully Link would get his meaning and hit them during the distraction... Ric felt that his own power was slowly increasing, and the ground immediately beneath his feet was starting to vibrate just slightly. Any moment now, and he'd give them a distraction they'd never forget...

"Oh, certainly, Mr. Sanchez," the leader went on smiling. "Just so long as the rest of you don't mind staying here under guard until we get Hector safely aw-aaaaaagh!!!"

The self-satisfied smile became a look of shock and pain, accompanied by a scream of agony as the leader topped backwards, his legs collapsing beneath him. Taking a glance over, Ric saw that Chad had scuttled up behind the man, and with his pincers, had sliced right through his boots, deftly hamstringing the man in the process.

In the brief instant of confusion that followed, Ric let go with his power, and the ground began to shake violently.

"Holy shit, earthquake!!" he shouted, trying to look like he was as surprised as everyone else.

Link, to Ric's extreme relief, chose that moment to strike, just as Ric had hoped. With his telekinesis, he slammed an invisible wave of force into the dozen guns leveled at the group, knocking several of them out of their owners' grasps, and the remainder, while still in hand, were now pointed away for just an instant. It was all the time they'd need.

"Hit 'em, guys!" Ric shouted, tackling one of the off-balance guards who still had a hold of his gun. The man was armored, and an excellent fighter besides, but the earthquake had caught him off guard, and Ric was able to get hold of the gun. They managed to knock one another to the ground, and wrestled for it.

Meanwhile, all hell was breaking loose with the rest of the group as well. Gomi whirled around at another of the guards and cut loose with his battering-ram power, slamming the man back a dozen yards and sending his gun flying well out of reach. Mickey, in his panic, was causing a telekinetic storm, and bursts of force were flying out almost at random, managing to pummel a few of the guards still standing.

Hector, though, stood very still, every muscle taut, cords sticking out on his neck, his face contorted into a grimace of pain and fury. By this time, though, everyone was so caught up in their own fights that they didn't see as he ripped out of his clothing, turning into a fierce half-wolf shape with jet-black fur and gleaming claws and fangs. He let out a growl that sounded as much of pain as anything else, then leaped upon the nearest soldier.

Gomi managed to take out another one before a third tackled him and tried to pin him to the bucking ground. It was the biggest mistake he'd ever made, as once he had Gomi pinned, wrestling-fashion, all Gomi had to do was look up at him and slam him full in the face with the ram, knocking the man out in the process. Unfortunately, this left Gomi pinned under a couple hundred pounds of unconscious armored soldier, which wasn't much better.

Off to one side, Ric was still struggling with his first, and found that he was losing. The soldier managed to get Ric turned over onto his back, and though both of them had a hold of the gun, Ric was losing the struggle. Slowly, the gun was pushed lengthwise up against his neck, and Ric realized that the man was going to choke him with it.

Then, abruptly, the soldier screamed, and Ric was horrified to see blood begin to drip from the eye- and mouth-holes of the man's mask. Ric pushed him off, and watched, amazed, as the guy just writhed on the ground, clutching at his face. Looking up then, Ric saw that Sybil had joined the fight. She hovered nearby, one arm outstretched to the agonized soldier, fingers curled like claws. She didn't look too happy to be doing this, either.

"Moth, babe, don't kill him!" Ric shouted out in warning, just before yet another soldier slammed into him from behind and tackled him, knocking the wind from him. Ric recovered quickly, though, and grabbed hold of the man, re-directing his quake power to shake the dude up a little.

Before he could get too far with this, though, Hector came up in the soldier's blind spot (not too hard, considering those ridiculous masks), and lifted him into the air, throwing him bodily at one of his comrades, and knocking the both of them down.

Ric looked up in amazement at the hulking, half-wolf Hector. "Hey, I thought you couldn't do that no more!"

"I can't!" Hector snarled, his voice twisted with pain and fury. "Now get up and let's get 'em!"

The two rejoined the fight with wild abandon. Hector picked up the unconscious soldier that had Gomi pinned, then threw this one at another one who had just gotten his gun back. Rictor, having a little more space to work with, was able to aim his shockwaves now, slamming one that was about to get the drop on Mickey. Link had picked one up off the ground with his TK, and was using him to flail at anyone who got near him. Sybil was trying with admirable success to bury a couple of them in the soft sand, hovering over them and moving the sand itself with her powers. Chad, meanwhile, continued scuttling around the fallen leader and pinching him in strategic locations.

It looked as though they were getting the better of it, Ric was amazed to note, as he slammed another one with a quake. Then, to his horror, he saw that one had managed to crawl over to one of the loose guns, and was taking aim at where Hector and Mickey were fighting on.

"Guys, look out!" he tried to shout, but it was drowned out by the Howl.

At first, Ric thought it was Hector, but Hector looked as surprised as everyone else by the sound. It was a chilling, piercing wail, and Ric felt a shiver run involuntarily down his spine.

The Hellfire guys, though, seemed nothing short of terrified by the sound. Those that were still conscious screamed with horror and tried to run for it as best they could. The leader managed to get to a device on his belt and activate it. "Sound the retreat!!" he screamed over the Howl.

Presently, the leader, his soldiers, and their weapons all vanished as abruptly as they had teleported in. Ric, Gomi, Mickey, Hector, Sybil and Link were left alone, looking around at the suddenly empty beach.

Another shape approached out of the darkness. Ric was mildly surprised to see that it was a man. He was a big guy, his deep-tan skin marking him as a native, and his creased face and slate-grey hair showing his age.

"<Okay, man, who the hell are you?>" Ric called out in Spanish, keeping his arms held out in front of him, ready to roll another quake his way.

Hector came back down into his human form and intercepted Ric's arms. "Ric, it's cool, man," he said between deep breaths. "I know this guy."

The rest of the group gathered slowly behind Ric as the old man drew closer. Hector, adjusting the tattered remains of his clothes around himself, stepped forward.

"Juan Cantolobos," he called out in greeting.

The big man smiled a sharp-toothed, wolfish smile. "<Hello, Hector. I hear you've been looking for me.>"

Church of the Holy Rood, Ullapool, Scotland
Monday, 3 January 1994 4:12 pm

Michael and Rahne Sinclair approached the church together, Rahne taking strength in her father's confident stride. Truth be told, she was more than a little nervous about coming here and confronting Reverend Craig with his lies, but it needed to be done. Maybe now she would be able to see the man once and for all for what he really was, and put this part of her life behind her, as she had always wanted.

The doors to the chapel were open, as they always were, and the two stepped inside, out of the cold, and into the only marginally warmer interior of the place. Michael regarded her for a moment, then looked around the place, eyes narrowing as he looked to the altar.

Reverend Craig was there, kneeling in prayer, his back to them. Rahne thought it imprudent to interrupt the man during prayer, but Michael apparently was only taken aback for a moment, after which he strode down the center aisle between the pews, Rahne following close behind him. They pulled up short behind the Reverend.

"Hello, Philip," Michael said, then.

Craig looked up, looked from Michael to Rahne, then nodded resignedly. "Hello, Michael." He then turned his gaze on Rahne. "I tried t'warn ye, lass," he said in a tired voice. "I tried, but ye wouldna' listen."

Something about Craig's tone set Rahne ill at ease, but Michael spoke again before she could fully register the feeling. "We need t' talk, Philip. Ye owe us an explanation."

"Aye," Craig nodded, slowly rising to his feet. Rahne then managed to put her finger on what it was about the man that was bothering her. He looked sad. In all the time she'd known Craig, she'd seen him in holy rage, in righteous fury, in deathly seriousness, and even, once or twice, with a glimmer of happiness. But this she'd never seen, and she didn't like it at all.
 
 

Craig led them to his office, where they all three sat down, Craig at his old desk, Michael and Rahne facing him. Craig rummaged around on his desktop, and produced a file folder, which Rahne recognized as the file she had looked at a few nights before: the one that had told her of her mother and father.

"Eighteen years ago, Philip," Michael began, "I came to ye askin' if ye knew where Beverly had disappeared to. Ye told me then, and for years after, that ye didnae know. Not only that, but ye hid m'own daughter from me her whole life, and ne'er told me of her. Why?"

Craig looked down at the file in his hands, unable to meet Michael's eyes. "I had hoped," he said with a sigh, "tha' I would ne'er have t'tell this story to ye, Michael." He then looked at Rahne. "But ye've forced m'hand, lass."

Rahne shifted uncomfortably in her seat as Craig's eyes bored into her. Even now, he still had that effect on her.

"Yuir Beverly was a good woman," Craig continued, "but Satan had his claws in her e'en before she left ye. Those... visions of hers, those dreams... messages from Hell, is wha' they were."

"Dinna judge what ye dinna understand, Philip," Michael interrupted. "Rahne and I have talked about this already. Beverly was mos' likely a mutant, an' these visions were her power."

"Ye can call these things whate'er ye will," Craig replied, sullenly. "The truth of the Lord will sweep away the words tha' evil hides itself b'hind."

"Listen t'yuirself!" Michael suddenly shouted, much to Rahne's shock. She'd never yet seen the man angry. "'Tis that reason, that reason, tha' my Beverly left me! Ye've taught everyone all yuir life that things that're different are evil an' corrupt, and ye've poisoned the minds of good people! She saw what m'daughter was to become, and all she could see, thanks t'yuir teachings, was tha' our daughter would be different, and tha' we should fear her because of it! Nae, Reverend, those arena' the words of God!"

"Are ye finished?" Craig said quietly, once Michael stopped to take a breath. When Michael did not speak on, Craig continued. "Ye ask me not t'judge what I dinna understand, an' I would ask the same of ye. Beverly didna' leave ye for the reason ye think -- not that she had seen what yuir daughter would be."

Michael looked surprised at this. "Then why?"

"The vision tha' haunted her then was far, far worse," said Craig, shaking her head. "Satan came t'her in her dreams in the guise of one of his messengers, a man... a man who could turn into a wolf. They are legend in the woods and wilds of the highlands, but what they are truly is the spawn of the devil."

Rahne gasped. "The Tuatha de Danan!" she cried.

Craig fixed her with a searching gaze, then nodded. "Aye. Ye know of them, then?"

"I..." Rahne stammered, "I know them. When I was here with a friend three years ago, I... I was lost in the woods, and they found me, and took me to their home. They called themselves the Tuatha de Danan, the children of Danu, the mother-goddess of Avalon. An'... an' they were wolf-people, like me!"

Michael looked surprised at this news, and he looked from Craig to Rahne. "I've heard the tales, but... lass are ye tellin' me they're real?"

"Aye, very real," Craig nodded. "An' evil to the core, the lot of them. Satan's children, worshipping their pagan goddess. I'm not surprised they sought ye out, lass, ye bein' one of theirs."

Rahne felt her heart thud against her ribs. "What... what d'ye mean?"

Craig set the file upon his desk again and clasped his hands tightly. "I tried t'teach yuir mother well, lass, but she was weak. These visions made her weaker. One of these wolf-men came t'her in her dreams, an' then came t'her in life as well. He seduced her, an' he put his seed in her. Yuir Beverly did not leave ye because she was afraid of what yuir daughter would be, Michael, for she knew too well. She left ye because she knew tha' the child was not yuirs."

"No," a small part of Rahne's mind said over and over. It couldn't be true! She'd found her father! This had to be another of Reverend Craig's lies! It had to be!

But the sadness was still there on Craig's face, and she knew, with dawning horror, that he was speaking the truth, and she could only listen, frozen to the spot by his words.

"In time he grew bored with her, an' cast her off," Craig went on, "an' this is when she came t'me. She bore the child, then left her here, hopin' tha' I could break her of the evil of her heritage." Here, Craig looked at Rahne and shook his head, and she was again amazed, this time numbly so, to see tears in the man's eyes. "An' I tried, lass. I tried so hard to save ye. I tried with every bit of strength within me, but I wasna' strong enough. I prayed to the Father day and night t'spare yuir soul, and not let the beast take ye, but I failed. I prayed tha' if I taught ye the word of God, ye'd be spared his wrath, but it wasna' enough."

Rahne shook her head slowly, still willing this to be a lie, but the more he said, the more her entire life made sense. This was why he had been so strict with her, far more so than with any of the other wards. This was why he had always called her wicked, and had told her how closely evil followed her. She turned her wide, unblinking eyes on Michael, and another small voice spoke within her, saying "He is not your father."

"No!" she cried, springing to her feet and fleeing from the room, finally letting go of the shock and letting despair take her. She had come so far to seek the truth, and had thought she had found it, only to have it torn out from under her and replaced by something unspeakably horrible. Just once, it looked as though something in her life would end happily, but then...
 
 

"Rahne!" Michael called after her, rising from his seat.

"'Twould be best to leave her," Craig said, softly. "Ye canna help her now, Michael."

Michael looked down at Craig and shook his head. "Nae, Philip, I can. Ye still dinna understand, do ye?"

"Nae, ye're the one who doesna' understand! Did ye nae hear wha' I told ye? She's not yuir daughter!"

"P'rhaps not," Michael said in a low voice, "but nor is she the thing ye say she is. She's one of God's children, as much as you and I."

That said, the Reverend Michael Sinclair strode from the office, leaving the Reverend Philip Craig to shake his head sadly, praying for both of their souls.

Heartbreak Hotel, outside Los Angeles, CA
Monday, 3 January 1994 10:55 am PST

"So what happened after that?" Kate asked, reaching across the table for the coffee pot and pouring herself another mug.

Ric finished his glass of juice, then sat back in his chair. "Well, it all wrapped up pretty neat. All in one hour, we found Hector..."

"Well, he found us," Gomi put in.

"...then we saved him from the Hellfire Club," Ric went on, "and then he found his papa."

"Well, he found us, too," Gomi added again.

"Yeah, and he's pretty much the one who saved us from the Hellfire Club, for that matter," Mickey finished.

Ric shrugged. "Anyway, since Hector doesn't have his necklace thing anymore, his papa's gonna teach him more about the little bit of wolf he still has left from bein' a mutant. They went off to go into hiding, and we crashed last night in San Diego, then came back here."

"Yaaaay!" Lucy said with a smattering of only somewhat sarcastic applause. "The vanquishing heroes return safely."

"I thought we'd never make it back across the border," Link sighed. "They didn't give us a second glance on the way down, but when we tried to come back..."

"Well, you are a motley-looking bunch, you know," Kate grinned.

"Hey, but we got the job done," Ric smiled back.

"I just hope that the Hellfire Club doesn't track us down to here," Gomi said, looking worried.

"I wouldn't let it concern me if I were you, Gomi," Kate told him, with that same Kate Sense of Truth that could not be argued. "They won't come looking for you here."

The late brunch now being long over, Lucy stood up and started gathering the plates. As she passed by Rictor, she leaned over and gave him a very unexpected kiss on the cheek. "I'm just glad you made it home okay," she said, taking the dishes into the kitchen.

"I'll, ah, take Sybil her plate now," Link said, trying not to smile at the expression on Ric's face. Mickey and Gomi didn't bother to try to conceal their own knowing grins.

"Hey, you rejects got a problem?" Ric asked them.

"No problem, Ric," Gomi smiled, picking Chad up from the floor and heading out of the room, closely followed by Mickey. "No problem at all."

Then Link departed into the kitchen as well, leaving Ric alone with Kate.

"I... think I'll help Lucy with the dishes," he said at length.

"Good idea," she nodded, sipping her coffee.
 
 

By the time Ric joined Lucy by the huge double-sink, Link had already come and gone, leaving the two alone.

"Need a hand?" Ric asked.

"Sure," she smiled up at him. "I'll wash, you rinse."

With that, they got into the rhythm of the work, Lucy passing a dish to Ric, Ric rinsing it off in the right-hand sink, then setting it into the drainer.

"Lucy," he said at length.

"Hmm?"

"That, uh, hug you gave me when we first got back this morning. What was that for?"

"I was glad to see you back, of course!"

"Well, yeah, but you didn't give Gomi a hug like that, or Mickey."

Lucy chuckled. "Well, no, but... I was worried about you."

"About us?"

"Yeah, about all of you, but mostly about you. You've never done this kind of thing before, right? Being a leader?"

"Nope. First time."

"I thought so. So I was worried about how you'd do down there, and... I was worried about you. I... didn't want anything bad to happen to you."

Ric looked over at her, and noticed that she was staring very intently at the dishwater, not looking up at him.

"Lucy," he said, quietly.

"Yeah?"

"I'm gonna go out on a limb here, okay?"

"Sure."

"Are you... falling for me?"

Honestly, he expected her to laugh, but she didn't. "Well," she said shyly, "I'm trying not to. I really am."

"Ah, geez, Lucy," he sighed. "I'm sorry."

She looked up at him and smiled wryly. "Why? It's not your fault."

"No, I mean... I guess what I mean is that I'm sorry, but... I can't return that. I just... can't."

"I know," she said with a soft laugh. "I mean, Ric, if you were the kind of guy who'd leave his girlfriend for me, I don't think I'd be... attracted to you in the first place. Does that make sense?"

"Yeah, I think so," he snorted. "Weird, but it makes sense."

"Well, don't worry, you and Rahne have nothing to fear from me."

Ric shook his head slowly. "Lucy, c'mon, don't gimme that dejected voice. You're a wonderful girl, y'know that? And you're gonna make some guy real happy one'a these days. Not only that, I think you'll find a guy that'll make you real happy, too. You deserve it."

"Thanks," she said, giving him a small smile. "I hope you're right."

"I guess you ain't hung around with me long enough to know," Ric said, cryptically.

She furrowed her brow at him. "To know what?"

He grinned. "To know I'm always right."

"I'll keep that in mind," she said, thwapping him in the arm with the sponge.

Church of the Holy Rood, Ullapool, Scotland
Monday, 3 January 1994 4:47 pm

Michael at last found Rahne in the courtyard of the church grounds, sitting back against one of the larger trees, hugging her legs to her chest. He approached cautiously, and sat down beside her. They shared the silence for a long time.

"'Tis true," she said at last, her voice cracking.

"What, lass?"

"All tha' he said. I'm not yuir daughter at all."

Michael shrugged. "As I told him, p'rhaps not, but lass, not all of his words were true."

She slowly turned her face to look at him. Her red-rimmed eyes showed that she'd been crying. "What d'ye mean?" she asked.

"What I mean is that ye're not the evil beast he thinks ye t'be. And nor was yuir mother evil f'r what happened t'her."

"He must have bewitched her," Rahne whispered. "They... can do that."

"Aye, then 'twas nae her fault. An' I still wish she'd come t'me, instead of t' Craig."

"Why?" she asked, shaking her head. "Ye'd have her come t'ye with another man's child? Nae, not even a man's child at all?"

"P'rhaps, but the child would be hers."

When Rahne did not answer this, Michael went on. "Rahne, lass, I canna change the fact tha' I am na' yuir father, though I wish to God above I could. But though ye are not m'daughter, in tha' ye're not of me own flesh and blood, ye're still my Beverly's daughter. Ye're the child of a woman I love dearly and love always, and in that way, ye'll always be m'daughter... if ye would wish t'be."

Again, the tears came to Rahne's eyes. "Do... d'ye mean that?"

"Of course I do, child..."

Very slowly, Rahne unfolded herself, then reached out to Michael, and hugged him, and let him hold her again. There was a warmth in his embrace, and a comfort, and if this were not her true father, he was at the very least a man who would be as a father to her, and love her just because she needed to be loved.

"'Tis strange," Rahne whispered.

"What's that, child?"

"Now... I have a mother, who isna' really my mother, and a father, who isna' really my father."

Michael chuckled at this. "Nae, lass. We're both of us very real." He smiled at her. "In fact, I would like to meet this Lady MacTaggert of yuirs. I want to meet the woman who has been takin' such good care of my daughter these past years."

"Alright," Rahne nodded, finally able to smile again.

"There, that's better. Come, let us leave this place. 'Tis no place f'r ye t'be now."

He helped her stand, and then, arm in arm, they left the courtyard, and left the Church of the Holy Rood, for what Rahne knew would be the last time. That part of her past was behind her at last, and though the future remained uncertain, she knew that now there would always be another to share that future with her.

"Father?"

"Aye, love?"

"Tell me more about mother..."
 
 

Next: "Please Come to Boston"

Go West #18: "Jonas and Ezekiel"
by Jeremy Bottroff, 23 August 1994

This story (c) 1994, 1999 Jeremy Bottroff

"Jonas and Ezekiel" performed by Indigo Girls, words and music by Amy Ray, (c) 1992, 1999 Virgin Songs, Inc./Godhap Music, from the album RITES OF PASSAGE

Sean Cassidy (Banshee), Marie-Ange Colbert (Tarot), Reverend Craig, Sybil Dvorak (Gypsy Moth), Forge, Gomi, Link, Moira MacTaggert, Danielle Moonstar (Mirage), Douglas Ramsey (Cypher), Rictor, Mickey Silk (Poltergeist), Rahne Sinclair (Wolfsbane), Charles Xavier (Professor X), Hellfire Club, X-Men, Muir Isle, Mutant Research Facility, Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters (c) 1999 Marvel Entertainment Group

The Marvel versions of the Tuatha de Danan appeared in a short story about Rahne and Danielle in MARVEL COMICS PRESENTS, though I canna' remember the issue number...

Juan Cantolobos, Chad the Bionic Lobster, Chico, Fernando, Hector Sanchez/Cantolobos (Wolfsong), Beverly Sinclair, Michael Sinclair created by Jeremy Bottroff, (c) 1999 Jeremy Bottroff

Star Wars and Darth Vader (c) 1999 Lucasfilm/20th Century Fox

"So... the Iguana Returns!" is actually a Saturday Night Live reference.  A classic skit.

Did I mention something last issue about characters with fluey dialogue?  So naturally the only way to follow THIS up was with a story all about Catseye...