Hiya.  Not a professional writer, not associated with Marvel,
borrowing X-Men without permission, and not making any $$$
at all.  Don't sue me.

Kai, Three Eyes, Darius, Sensei, and Lasher are all mine.
Don't use without permission, or...um.  Or else.  <g>

It's a Kai story!  And that pretty much sums it up.

Comments to Kaylee1109@aol.com.  Feedback helps you find
Heaven/Nirvana/or your paradise of choice. ;-)

Enjoy!

"Kai: Virus"
by Kaylee (Kaylee1109@aol.com)

I toggled with the radio dials for several long minutes before
any sound came out.  All the while, I cursed the snow, the
frigid air, the icy earth that seemed determined to hinder my
every move.  And when I tired of cursing all that, I swore at
the strange queasy feeling somewhere low in my gut; the
feeling that had been there since my exposure...

No.  Don't think about that yet.

Finally, a welcome voice came through.  "<hiss> read you,
Tango 1.  What's <squark> situation?"

I was too worn to even be amused at the radio code I'd been
given.  Tango is Navy-speak for terrorist, and the operation I'd
just been running for Three Eyes would definitely qualify me as
such to good ol' Uncle Sam.

But Uncle Sam started it when he set up an outpost in Alaska
for developing biological warfare.

I leaned over the radio, surprised that I had to swallow down a
heavy dampness in my throat before speaking.  "Mission
accomplished, Nest.  Lost the...lost the rest of the team."  I
blinked hard and swallowed again.  Just a little...little bit dizzy.
"Full exposure to...to the..."  What the hell was the codeword
for the virus?  Damn, I couldn't remember...fuck it.  "Full
exposure.  Took 'em out quick.  Finished the mission, but I'm
the only one...who made it."

"What's your <schree>-ation, Tango 1?"

I blinked again, trying to process what the static had fuzzed
out.  Static was everywhere...was in my brain.  Cleared my
throat harshly.  It hurt.

"Repeat:  What's your situation, Tango 1?"

Wasn't that nice of 'em?  Repeating it for me an' all...  All right,
Kai...try to make it concise.  That's it.  Don't slur the words.
"I..."  Good start.  Keep going.  "I think...I think I'm
in...trouble here."  What?  That wasn't what I meant to say!
Trouble?

Damn, but my gut was clenching hard...

"<squark> you exposed to the flu?  Tango 1, were you
exposed?"

Flu?  I don't...I don't get the flu...

"Repeat:  Tango 1, were you exposed to the flu?"

Damn, the radio man sounded anxious.  What was wrong with
him?  Flu?  Flu...oh!  The flu was the virus, of course!  How
could I have forgotten that?

I chuckled.  It sounded funny.  "Got about a jillion of
those...those vials broken on me.  Cuts.  Blood.  Lots of blood.
The team...they all died.  All of 'em.  Dead.  Quick."  Swallow.
"Not me.  I don't...don't die."  Swallow harder.  "I'm feeling a
little...under the weather right now."  Weather!  Hah!  I hate
snow.  "Think maybe you oughtta hold...the evac off a bit."
Swallow.  Think.  Clear thoughts.  Come on, Kai, you can do
it.  "Seem to have caught a sniffle."

"Tango 1, we're <schree> you out of there.  Containment unit
will be sent <hiss> position.  Copy?"

Ah, shit!  My stomach hurt!  "No," I growled, fighting for
clarity of thought.  "Stuff went through...Johnson's fucking
containment suit.  Everything...five-mile radius...dead."
Swallow, goddamnit!  "I'll heal.  Just need...just need time.
Get word to Darius."  Oh, fuck...wasn't supposed to use his
name on the radio!  Oh well.  Not his real name anyway.  "Tell
him...carry out my request, okay?  Did you get that?"  Say yes
say yes say yes say yes...

A long, staticky pause.  "Copy, Tango 1.  Keep in contact.
We'll <schree> in touch.  Flying in <hiss>-ical personnel now
to consult.  Copy?"

"Whatever," I muttered, losing half of that and no longer
caring.  "Tango 1, over and out."

I flicked off the radio.  The buzz was tearing into my skull.
Stood very carefully.  Swayed a bit.  Damn it, hold still world!
It didn't exactly obey, but it held steady enough for me to
stagger outside the little tent, across to the treeline, and down
to my knees to retch up whatever parts of my innards weren't
attached to me.

"This...isn't good," I told the trees as they stood witness.  They
swayed a little, though there wasn't any breeze.  I think they
were agreeing with me.  Of course they were...I was right.

I found enough strength to rise and stumble back to the tent,
and then I folded myself into the thermal sleeping bag and
closed my eyes tightly, trying to ignore the twisting in my belly
and the way my brain seemed to have taken to swimming laps
in my skull.

No.  No, this was definitely not good.

***

"I can't tell you where I'm going.  I can't tell you what I'm
doing.  All I can say is that there's a chance it'll be a while
before I get back."

"How long is a 'while'?" Scott asked after a moment.

I shrugged casually, though I was feeling pretty unsettled
inside.  "No telling.  Might be no more than a few days.  Might
be a couple of weeks.  If it's gonna be extended, I'll get word
to you somehow."

Ororo scrutinized me with that reserved expression that hides
so much.  "You wouldn't be telling us this if you didn't have
concerns, Kai.  It's far more like you to just leave without
saying a word."

I couldn't help the smile.  Sometimes I think 'Roro knows me
far too well.  In a strange way, it's almost comforting.  "I'm
gonna be working with people who know their stuff, 'Roro.  It
doesn't look like it's gonna be pretty, but nothing I can't handle.
I'm telling you both because you're the team leaders, and..."
Another shrug.  "I want you to be aware that I won't be
available for a while."

Scott nodded slowly.  Then said carefully, "Is this something
that might become a team matter?"

"Nope.  Totally covered."

From Ororo -- "And what have you told Logan?"

"An abridged version of what I just told you."  A quickly
flashed grin.  "Not quite the bit about how there's no telling
how long I'll be gone, though.  I do _not_ feel like dealing with
him hovering over me and insisting on coming along."

"Very well," Ororo said slowly.  "I assume you don't want it
known that you spoke with us?"

"That's right.  This doesn't need to go anywhere.  I'll probably
be back inside a week anyway."

"If you need us," Scott told me seriously, "just call."

A totally senseless surge of gratitude hit me.  So strange to
have people who give a shit.  In the early days, I'd rather
assumed that they put up with me because of Logan.  Now,
though...

"Thanks, Scott.  That means a lot.  But I won't need you.  It's
really not that big of a deal."

***

I woke just in time to scramble outside and puke again.

"I hate...being sick."  The trees waved their silent agreement.  I
stared at them for a while, mesmerized by the drowsy, soothing
motions.

Then hunched over and promptly was sick _again._

"Unnnn," I groaned, closing eyes sharply.  Blood that time.  I
was puking up blood.  "This...can't be a good sign."

How much time had passed?  It was daylight now, and I'd
contacted Nest just after nightfall...only a few hours from the
time I'd detonated the charges that blew the biological warfare
complex into messy pieces of rubble.  The main of the center
had been below-ground, and it had all collapsed in rather
nicely, and then was neatly covered by a helpful avalanche from
the shadowing mountain.  Of course, the avalanche had been
encouraged along by another set of explosives...So was
that...yesterday?  Hadda be yesterday.  I couldn't have slept
through a whole day, no matter how under the weather I was.

But I really should ring up Nest again.  He was probably
starting to worry.

I made my slow way into the tent, shivering down to the
smallest cell.  This damned outpost _would_ be in Alaska,
wouldn't it?  Bet the people who set it up were just thinking,
"Oh, let's make sure to make it nice and inconvenient for that
Kai woman.  I've heard she hates snow."

Or maybe I was a bit delirious.  I mean, how on earth would
US government flunkies know about me?  I didn't even exist,
so far as official documents went.

Damn it...it was so fucking _cold._

"Nest," I croaked into the radio.  "Nest, come in."  No answer.
"Nest, you goddamn lazy son of a bitch, come in."  Nothing.

Then I remembered to turn the radio _on._  "Nest, this is...this
is Tango...whatever.  Do you copy?"

The answer came so swiftly that he must have been right there
waiting for me.  "Tango 1, what's your situation?"

"I'm cold.  And sick.  And talking to myself more than usual."
I started to sag forward over the radio, but caught myself
before collapsing.  "Did you...get word to the boss?"

"That's affirmative.  Tango 1, listen to me.  We've got medical
personnel here who are familiar with your physiology.  They're
saying that the cold is inhibiting your healing symbiont, which
is why you're having so much trouble with the virus.  Do you
copy that?"

"Cold.  Symbiont.  Virus.  Yep."

"Now your symbiont is still working at a rate far exceeding a
normal person's healing, or else you'd be dead.  From what
we've gathered, the virus is terminal in an ordinary human mere
hours after exposure.  What we don't know, and can't tell until
you get examined, is whether your symbiont is merely slowing
the process or if it'll be effective in combating the virus.  Did
you follow all that?"

"Hang on," I muttered from just outside the tent, where I'd run
halfway through his speech to throw up again.  "Back in...a
sec."

"Tango 1, I didn't <schree> that."

Grumbling about poor frequencies, viruses, and most of all
_snow,_ I lurched back in and hunched once more over the
radio.  "Symbiont slowed by cold.  Might die.  Okay.  Gotcha.
Can you please...just get around to whatever the fuck I can
_do_ about it?"

A long, static rustled pause.  My head seemed to catch on
every little snag of sound.  I closed my eyes and tried to focus
enough will to stay fully conscious and at least partially aware
of whatever he was gonna tell me.  It was very, very hard to
do.

Finally, his voice came back.  "Stay as warm as possible," he
said simply.  "The higher your body temperature, the better
chance you have of surviving.  Remember that your symbiont
loves heat."

I turned a bleary gaze around my surroundings.  I had the
thermal sleeping bag and the tent was insulated, but the space
heater had been lost somewhere during my trek away from the
blast sight.  My clothes were hardy winter survival gear.  The
tent was equipped with an optional flap for smoke to escape,
so I could build a fire and warm up a bit more.

"All right, Nest.  Stay...warm.  I can do that."

"Copy that.  And you need to keep your strength up.  Drink
lots of fluids.  What sort of rations do you have?"

"That disgusting dry crap."

"<squark> have to do.  Stay in radio contact, Tango 1.  We're
trying to <hiss> out a scenario where we can get you out of
there safely.  Don't give up."

I chuckled, then had to swallow abruptly as my stomach tried
to rise again.  I battled with it for a moment, and eventually
won.  At least temporarily.  "Haven't you heard, Nest?  I
never...give up."  Before he could answer, I croaked out the
sign-off sequence, then firmly ordered my innards to behave
themselves as I crept back into the sleeping bag.  As I drifted
into a hazy half-dreaminess, I remembered vaguely that he'd
said something about...about fluids.  Drinking...fluids.

"Can't be too important," I told myself reassuringly.
"I'd...remember otherwise."

***

I could feel his eyes on my back as I stared out the window.
The gaze was heavy, assessing.  Darius had just told me that he
might well be sending me to my death, and he was waiting for
my reaction.

The sky was beautiful just then, I noticed.  It seemed intensely
blue, as if it was brightening just for me.  A few scattered
clouds softened the featureless expanse, twisting and twining
slowly in shapes that resembled first various animals, then
people, then...nothing.

They'd sent in a team earlier to the Alaskan outpost.  Even had
the foresight to send along a mutant with a healing factor.
Gabrielle, her name was.  But her healing factor wasn't as
advanced as Logan's, nor was it as effective as my symbiont.
And it turned out the compound was more heavily guarded
than they'd anticipated.  The man inside had reported after the
fact that most of the incursion team had been taken out during
the first attack, and Gabrielle had been captured and used as a
test subject for the virus.  Her healing ability had kept her alive
for a few days before she finally succumbed.  This virus...these
_people_...were too dangerous to leave unchecked.

And so it was my turn.  I didn't technically work for Three
Eyes anymore...hadn't ever since I broke conditioning ten years
ago.  But I owed Darius a lot.  My life, more times than I could
count when he'd funneled me information during the early days
of my freedom to keep me a step ahead of my pursuers.
Maybe even more than that.  Darius had taken the organization
that destroyed me and made it something good; something that
helped erase some of the taint from the old days I'd
participated in.

And these people had to be stopped.

"All right."  I turned back to him slowly.  "I'll lead the team in.
Just make sure everyone who goes knows the stakes.  I won't
have any unwilling sacrifices on my shoulders."

He met me with those dark eyes in that smoothly-planed dark
face.  A solemn nod.  Darius isn't a man to allow himself too
much emotion; not when the job needs to be done.  I wondered
suddenly how many times in the past he'd had to order other
people to their deaths.  A heavy weight to bear.  "You'll leave
in twenty-four hours."

I nodded once.  "I need to get back to Westchester and pick up
my gear."  A moment of hesitation.  "If...it looks like I'm not
gonna make it back, I want you to get word to the X-Men.  I
know you can't really tell them all the details...but just..."  I
stopped, scowling and searching for words.

Fortunately, he's much better at words than I am.  "I'll see that
they know it wasn't for nothing."

I nodded again.  "Especially Logan.  He'll be mad that I didn't
tell him...but let him know why.  Let him know that I didn't
want him risking this, too."

"I'll tell him personally."

From Darius, a man who has to take into consideration globe-
spanning events before breakfast every morning, that was quite
an honor.

"Thanks."  A forced smile.  "But I'm intending to come through
this one, y'know.  You can't be rid of me that easily."

He didn't even try to answer the smile.  "I truly hope you're
right, Kai," was all he said.

And I hoped I was right, too.

***

"I'm dying," I told the trees quite seriously.  My voice wasn't
much more than a whisper, but they heard me.  I knew they
did.  They had keen ears.  "I'm dying, and I didn't tell Logan
where I was going, and he's gonna be so fucking mad at me."
They were a sympathetic audience.  "Damn stubborn arrogant
man.  He'd've insisted on coming along, y'know.  He does that.
He wouldn't've let me come alone."  A big pine nodded sagely.
That struck me as funny.  Pine.  Sage.  Quite hilarious, if you
think about it.  "And then he'd've come, and he'd be dying,
too."  I frowned up at the pine, only just then realizing that I
was sprawled out in the snow _outside_ the tent.  How did I
get there?  "How did I get here?"  The trees didn't answer.  Ah
well.  Couldn't have been too important or else I'd remember,
right?  "'Course, his healing factor mighta been able to handle
this.  Maybe.  But maybe not.  Not worth the risk.  Team needs
him too much."  And I couldn't handle the thought of causing
his death...but I wasn't about to tell _trees_ that.  "Didn't Nest
say something...something about cold?"

Before any answer could be forthcoming, I remembered why
I'd come outside in the first place, and I rolled over to throw
up again.  Couldn't figure how I could still be throwing up after
all this time...'course, I also had no idea how much time had
passed.  Mighta been a couple of days, or maybe months.  But
there sure as hell wasn't anything in my stomach.

Well, except for the blood...

I groaned and pulled myself to my hands and knees, crawling
back towards the tent yet again.  The journey seemed more and
more arduous each time.  Sometimes my sense of direction got
screwed up, and I'd end up crawling right on past it for several
yards before having to turn back around and begin the whole
thing all over again.  This time I was lucky, though.  I pushed
right on through the entrance, then slowly turned to fasten it
shut.  I dragged myself to my sleeping bag and tucked myself
into it, feeling for the slightest bit of warmth...and not finding
any.

"I...hate...cold."

And it hates me, too.

***

"Ain't you in a good mood," Logan observed as I plopped
down beside him on the couch and immediately snuggled up to
him.

"What...aren't I allowed to be cuddly every now and then?"  I
ran a hand up under his shirt and over the hard, warm muscles.
"I'm only back for a little while.  Promised Darius I'd report
back soon.  I'm leaving in a few hours."

"Sure ya don't want me to come along?"

I shook my head slightly.  "It's not gonna be anything overly
interesting.  Just a clean little sneak and peek, from the sounds
of it."  I let him catch arms around me and pull me around until
I was on his lap.  "I'll be back in a couple of days, probably."

He grinned with that familiar male leer.  "So we got a few
hours to make sure ya remember me over the next few days."

I wrinkled my nose at him.  "More like for _you_ to remember.
My mind's gonna be occupied elsewhere."  I let the roving hand
creep upwards to run fingers into rough/soft, dark chest hair.
"But we're wasting time right now."

He chuckled throatily and lightly brushed my lips with his.
"Can't have that."

"Nuh uh," I agreed, running my free hand behind his head and
pulling his mouth more firmly to mine.  "Gotta make every
second count."

His arms enfolded me in welcome warmth, allowing me a time
of...forgetting.

***

"I miss...the desert."  This time I was talking to the radio, and
Nest was my audience.  He was a pretty good audience, too.
Had better advice than the trees did.  "It was so hot.
Sweltering.  I hated it when I was there, but I really miss it
right now."

"Don't lose heart, Tango 1.  We're going to get you out of
there, safe and sound.  You copy that?"

I stared up at the open smoke vent.  The fire had gone out
some unknown hours before, but I hadn't found the energy to
build it up again or close the flap.  "D'ya know I'm a goddess?"

"<squark> goddess?  When did that happen?"

"While back.  Tribe worships me an' Logan.  Call us Loogah
and Kah-ee."  I chuckled wetly, barely noticing the blood that
came up.  "You oughtta see the statues."

"I'm sure they're something."

"That's one word for 'em."  There were some stars trying to
sneak past the smoke hole.  I watched them avidly.  "Do you
live by the radio, Nest?"

This time _he_ chuckled.  "Seems like it, the past few days.
I've got a cot in the corner in here so I can hear any
transmissions you make."

I was oddly touched.  "But why?  I don't even know you."

He was silent for a long moment.  I barely noticed the time
pass.

Then--  "You may not remember me right now, but we've
met."

"We have?"  I frowned at the sneaky stars.  "Who are you?"

"Not <hiss> radio, Tango 1.  Once you're out of there, we'll
talk."

I chuckled again, then rolled over and coughed up something
ugly.  He said something while I gagged, but I didn't hear it.  It
felt like my lungs were turning to fluid and sloshing around
between my ribs.  Not a pleasant sensation.  "You're...an
optimist," I managed to gasp.  "I'm just getting worse."

"Remember, Tango 1?  You're not allowed <schree> give up."

"Yeah," I muttered.  "I remember."  Rolled back over once the
coughing fit seemed done.  "So you can't tell me...your name.
How 'bout where I know you from?"

Another long pause.  "Now's not the time," he said at last.  "If
we're going to have a reunion, it <hiss> in person."  I said
nothing.  After a bit, his voice came again.  "I'll tell you this
much...I owe you.  Big time."

"Hunh," I grunted.  "Why?  Did I save your life or something?"

"I wish."

"Oh."  My eyes were closing of their own accord.  "Think...I'm
gonna sleep now."

"Are you as warm as you can be?"

I mumbled an answer.  He didn't accept that.

"Tango 1, you can't afford to be careless.  I don't care _how_
delirious you are.  Wake up and check <schree> surroundings."

"Lemme 'lone," I muttered.  "Tired."

A pause that might have been any length of time, since I kinda
lost track.  Then--  "Kai."

I blinked.  He wasn't s'posed to use my name over the radio.
"Huh?"

"Kai, you need to check your equipment.  Listen to me...if you
don't stay warm, you're _going_ to die.  Copy that, Kai?"

I sat up and grumbled, "Yeah, I copy.  I'll check the fucking
equipment.  Goddamnit."  And I looked up, and...well shit!
The smoke hole was open!  No wonder it was so cold!  I stood
unsteadily, cursing all the while, and closed it securely, then
double-checked the entrance of the tent.  Fastened.  I crawled
back into my sleeping bag, shivering convulsively.  "It's so
fucking _cold._"

"I know, Kai."

Damn, now I'd gone and forgotten that the radio was on.
"Nest?"

"Yeah?"

"Talk to me."

"What do you want me to talk about?"

"I don't care.  Just get my mind off...the cold."

He hesitated, and then his voice came again, level and
soothing.  "Once upon a time," he began, going into some fairy
tale or other.  I closed my eyes and listened to his voice, letting
it carry me towards sleep.

"Thanks, Nest," I murmured as I started to drop off.

"...and then the Prince caught sight of the most beautiful
woman he'd <hiss> seen..."

***

My throat was too closed off for more than a whisper.
Apparently I couldn't even be heard over the radio anymore,
which was just as well 'cause nothing they said made any sense.
Rambling on about..._cold._  What was wrong with them?
Couldn't they feel how hot it was?

It _was_ hot.  Hot as the alien desert I'd spent such a brief time
in.  Before becoming a goddess.

"No," I whispered, shaking my head.  "First...Consort.
Later...Kah-ee."

But it was _hot._  Since the sun wasn't too oppressive, it being
in the middle of the night and all, I'd had the sense to strip out
of most of my clothing.  Then I went out and plopped down on
the white, damp sand.  Didn't do much to cool me off, though.
If anything, I just felt hotter.

The trees towered over me, waiting.  For what, I couldn't say.
I wasn't really talking to them now, since it hurt so much.
Maybe they missed my voice.  I stared up at their looming
heights, then past them to the stars beyond.

"Stars," I whispered.  "Gonna go...to the stars."

Sure I was.  Logan had laughed...had laughed when I told him
how much I wanted that.  And he'd said, "Just be patient,
darlin'.  Hang out with this bunch long enough, you'll get to
those stars."

"Logan..."  I felt a strange...misgiving.  Like there was
something very, very important that I was forgetting.  I
screwed up my brow and stared blindly upwards.
"What...s'posed to remember...?"

Abruptly, I shivered.  "Oh damn," I cursed in that rusty
whisper.  "Oh shit it's cold.  Oh fuck what the fuck am I
fucking doing out here in the fucking snow?  I hate snow.
Goddamnit I'm messed up."  I started to lurch upwards, using
the swearing to give myself incentive.

Then felt the first real tickle of fear when I realized that my
limbs weren't much stronger than a particularly runny bowl of
Jello.  I flopped half-up, then fell back limply, sweating.  Tried
to laugh at the watching trees.  "This isn't...real.  I'm
not...dying.  I don't die.  I live."  They gave no answer, verbal
or otherwise.  I started shaking a bit as I looked at them.  For
the very first time since I'd been out here, they were only trees
and I was...alone.

"Alone," I hissed to them, hissed to the indifferent pines.
"Used to that.  No big deal.  Can live anyway."  I gritted my
teeth and worked to roll to my stomach.  _Almost_ made it on
the first try.  Fell back with a groan, then immediately tried
again.  Third time was the charm, and I flopped to my belly
with a satisfying crunch of snow.  Stretched my arms slowly in
front of me to look at them.

"Fuckin' A...when'd I take my clothes off?"  My arms looked
strange...darker than they should.  My fingers were a sorta
purple color, and I could barely flex them when I tried.  No
pain in them, though.  Was that a good sign?

"Tent," I commanded my strangely disconnected body.  It
ignored me.  I growled internally.  At least I'd stopped
throwing up!  With another string of whispered curses, I
verbally lashed myself to drag weight up onto my elbows, then
slowly drew a knee up beside my body.

And got stuck there, panting and gasping and choking on the
blockage in my throat.  Something was holding the other leg.  I
peered back over my shoulder and saw nothing.  It upset my
precarious balance enough, though, that I toppled sideways
into the snow.  I started to whisper out complaints to the trees
or the stars or anything that would listen...but suddenly I didn't
want to disturb the silence.  Don't we humans make enough
noise as it is?  Didn't need to turn the messy end of one person
into some huge fanfare.  Have a little dignity, woman!  Face
suffering with courage!

Wait...those aren't my thoughts!  Those're...memories.  Bad
ones.  Conditioning memories.  Lingering echoes of the man
who'd run the conditioning program; Richard Kincaid.  Oh, and
his precious little zit-faced assistant...Lasher?  Was that his
name?

"Never did...get to kill 'em."  Damn it.  Well, there was a lot I
didn't get to finish.

"Not gonna _die_ with those...bastards...on my brain."  I
groaned and rolled again, then closed my eyes and surged
forward onto my elbows.  They tottered, but held steady
enough for me to drag up one knee, then the other.  I hunched
there for a moment, bent in some peculiar obeisance to the
frozen world around me.  "Not gonna...not gonna _die._"  I
sucked in a rattly breath and slid an arm forward, following it
with a knee.  Then the other side, slow and steady.  Tent was
only a few yards away.  I could make it.  I could.  My body
tried to tilt sideways, but I caught it with a little lurch back the
other way.  "Gotta get...warm."  I choked for a moment on the
words; on something thick and painful in my throat.  Kept
crawling, though.  "Babies...make this look so easy."  Another
yard, numb hands and feet like dead weight.  Could barely feel
my face, even.  Eyes were stinging with the slight dash of air
across them.  Hey, I was going fast enough to create wind!
Sorta.  "Don't die.  Don't give up.  Logan's gonna _kill_ me."
Another few feet...and the tent flap scraped painfully along my
sides as I brushed through it and into the shelter.  Gasping,
wheezing, swearing, I slowly turned myself and tried to work
at the flap.  But...damn fingers wouldn't obey.  I manipulated
my clumsy hands as well as I could, and finally had the
entrance more or less sealed.  Then dragged myself over to the
sleeping bag and nosed my way into it head first, cradling
frozen hands against a chest that didn't feel much warmer.

Voices on the radio...Nest again, trying to get me to respond.
I listened, since there wasn't much else to do just then.
Concern...worry...guilt?  They all came through in that tone
that I didn't recognize, even though he said I knew him.  "Kai,
are you reading this?  I know you're there.  I know <squark>
can hear me.  Come on, Kai...just a word.  _Any_ sound.  You
can do it.  Come on."

My head was buried nicely at the bottom of the sleeping bag,
and I wasn't in a hurry to actually try _backing_ out of it.  I'd
probably pass out in the process.  So I just listened.

"Answer me, damn it!  I _know_ you're there!"

How did he know that?  Wasn't I just outside a minute ago?
Or was it an hour...

"Kai, they really believe that you can make it <schree> this if
you can just get your body temperature high enough.  Give me
a sign you understand."

A...sign.  That I understand.  Understand...what?

A different voice.  "Tango 1, do you copy?"

Sure, I copy.  Just can't quite tell you that right now.  Kinda
busy.

Nest again.  "Kai, they're going to write you off if you don't let
us <hiss> you're still alive."

The other voice.  "Tango 1, please respond."

Nest:  "Just a _sound,_ Kai.  Bang a fucking pot or
something!"

"Tango 1, this communication <schree> be terminated if you
don't respond."

"You can't do that!  She's still alive!"

"Sit down, Nest!  You know procedure."

"<squark> procedure!  This is _Kai!_"

"This is _Tango 1,_ and you've <schree> holding open
communication for three days, Nest.  You're too caught up in
this.  Let it go."

"No!"

"She _knew_ the stakes."

"Kai, _answer_ goddamnit!"

Answer.  Or die.  That's what he was saying.

"Some choice," I whispered, beginning the absorbing process
of extricating myself from the sleeping bag.  I started coughing
halfway through, and had to stop for a bit as the shudders
wracked me.

"Did you hear that?  She's there!"

"Static, Nest."

"That was her!  Kai, come in!"

I'm trying to, I thought at the radio.  When I was able, I started
moving again.  Slow.  Unsteady.  So fucking _cold._  Don't
think about numb hands.  Don't think about lumps of flesh for
feet.  Just move.  Move.  Move!

I pulled my head free from the bag and blinked vaguely in the
direction of the radio, then didn't allow a pause as I moved
towards it.  Another cough started, but I choked it back.
Something sloshed in my lungs.  I was pretty sure lungs weren't
supposed to slosh.

"She's _gone,_ Nest."

"She's _not._"

"Even if she's still alive, she's <hiss> reclaiming.  We all knew
this could happen.  It's time to end this."

Not...gone.  Just cold and tired and sick and...not _gone._

"Shut down communication, Nest."

"No."

"Shut it down.  <squark> an order."

"_No._"

"Don't make me have you removed from here."

"Goddamnit, I let her die once!  I'm not <schree> to let it
happen again!"

Die?  I haven't died.

I _won't_ die.

"Quit holding on to the past!  It's over and finished, Nest.  KI-5
is dead.  Kai is dead.  Tango 1 is dead."

Am _not._

"I won't let you cut her off!"

"You don't have a choice <hiss> matter anymore."

An inch more...just an inch, and maybe they'll hear the
whisper...

"Tango 1, this communication is now terminated.  Over and
out."

"Wait," I breathed.  "_Wait._"

Nothing.  Nothing but static.

"_Wait,_" I insisted, crawling that last inch and putting my
mouth very near the radio.  "I'm...here.  I'm _alive._
Don't...cut me off."

Nothing.

"I'm _here._"  Static.  "Nest?"  Static.  "Hello?"  Static.  "Nest,
come in."

Static.

Funny.  Even as cold as I was, the tears still felt hot.

***

I was sitting up, propped against my pack to keep from falling.
When I lay down, I found myself drowning in the fluid in my
chest.  So somehow I sat up and stayed up, and I stared blindly
through the mist that rose with each shallow breath.

I was seeing things.  Strange things.  Things that didn't
_belong._

"'Roro...Scott..."  They were standing there, looking at me and
shaking their heads sadly.  I scowled at them.  Or tried to.  My
face wouldn't move the way it was supposed to anymore.  "Did
Darius...call you?"

They just shook their heads.  In unison.  It was really
remarkable how in synch the motions were.

"Dunno what he told you," I murmured.  "Prob'ly some
lie...'bout somethin' all noble...he likes noble."

The heads shook.  The eyes were sad.  I realized with a start
that I could _see_  Scott's eyes:  He wasn't wearing the visor.

"Not noble," I told them as firmly as I could.  "People...died.
X-Men aren't s'posed...to kill."

A tear slid down Scott's cheek.  I tried to frown at it.  Couldn't
manage.

"But this virus...oops.  Flu.  This _flu_ is _bad._  Real bad.
Highly conta--conatag -- contagious.  Kills...people...an'
animals...an' they wanted to use it...for _war._"  I shook my
head a little, trying to match their motions.  "How could
someone..._do_ that?  How could they make something that
kills iniscri -- indiscret -- indiscriminately?  It's _wrong._"  I
tried the frown again.  Was marginally more successful this
time.  "Hey...where you goin'?"  They were fading away,
leaving me alone.  Alone and cold and sick and tired
and...where was Nest?  I couldn't hear him anymore.  "Nest?"
No answer.  Had I turned the radio off?  I swiveled my head to
see, but started coughing before I caught a glimpse of it.  That
fluid felt very high in my chest.  When I managed to catch a
shallow breath again, I noticed something funny.

"People aren't s'posed to...blow bubbles...are they?"  Red
bubbles.  Expanding out with every exhalation, then drawing
back in or popping with a cheerful little "plink!"  Scott always
wanted me to take a code name...I could be Bubbles!  The
thought started me laughing, which hurt my sore throat and
quickly brought another onset of wet, wracking coughs.  My
brain pulsed against its walls, trying to push out through every
conceivable opening.  I pushed my head back with a groan and
closed my eyes.

"Logan...I could really use...some warmth about now."

He didn't oblige.  Maybe 'cause he was mad I didn't tell him
what I was doing.

"I didn't want...you to die, too!" I protested at his silence.  "X-
Men..._need_ you!  _World_ needs you."

Nothing.

"I'm sorry," I whispered.

Nothing.

No, I thought to myself firmly.  No.  I'm _not_ gonna die like
this.  I'm not gonna choke out my lungs and drown in blood
and hack and wheeze my way into an icy grave.  I have a
healing symbiont!  I'm gonna _live!_

I opened my eyes sharply.  "I'm gonna live," I told the frozen
air.  "I _am._"  Then blinked in confusion.  "Sensei?"

His eyes were unreadable.  They often had been.  He was as
tall and thin and gray haired as he'd been in life.  I noticed with
a surge of bewilderment that he was wearing a sweatshirt and
jeans.

"Aren't you...cold?"  Then I scowled at myself; internally,
because of my stiff face.  This was no way to greet my teacher,
sagging back against a pile of gear and breathing bubbles.  I
reached an unresponsive hand for an unresponsive leg and
hooked my wrist over the dead weight, tugging my ankle back
towards me.  Then slowly repeated the process on the other
side.  Sensei watched, motionless, as I leaned forward to brace
elbows on the ground and arduously pull my heels beneath me.
I started coughing again, and he waited patiently while I rid my
throat of the wet obstruction.

And finally I was able to sit back on my heels, greeting my
teacher in _seiza_ as was only proper.

But he was _gone._

"No...no, Sensei...come back..."

Gone.

"_Sensei._"

I closed my eyes against the sting of more tears.  I hate crying.
I really do.  Closed my eyes and just sat for a while, breathing
shallowly and wondering how long it would be before the fluid
rising in my chest finally choked the last breath from me.

But I hate self-pity, too, so I stopped that train of thought cold.

Cold.  So cold.  Symbiont hates cold.  So do I.  One of the
specialists who tested the symbiont once told me that the surest
way he knew of to kill me was to lower my body temperature
down farther than any low that would naturally be found on
Earth.  The symbiont, when lowered to that extreme
temperature...crumbles.  And since a large bit of my body is
now made of that symbiont, that means...

I opened my eyes sharply as I felt phantom warmth circle
around me.  Arms, strong arms, holding me tightly.  We were
snowed in, trapped by a blizzard, and there was a man I hardly
knew warming me as best he could against the frigid chill.

"Logan?"  He didn't say anything, but I felt his breath stir past
my ear.  I leaned back against him.  "I know you're mad...you
think I shoulda told you...but you're so damned pig-headed!
You'd've...you'd've wanted to come too..."  Blinked twice.
"But you're here."  Twice more.  "You shouldn't be here."

Then I looked down at the arms holding me, and they were
abruptly gone.  "You're _not_ here."

No one was here.  No one but me and a dead radio in a dead
world.

So why was the flap of the tent moving?  Couldn't hear any
wind...

It opened.  I didn't even feel the blast of colder air.  A figure
cloaked in a fur-lined parka slipped through, shadowed eyes
locking instantly on me.  I couldn't see much of the face inside
the hood, but I heard the deeply indrawn breath of...relief?

Not fair.  _I_ couldn't draw a deep breath.

The person turned and closed up the entrance swiftly.  I
noticed then the sizable pack weighting down his shoulders.  I
tried to clear my throat, but it hurt too much.

So I just whispered again.  "You're the
first...hallucination...that's been dressed for the weather."

He might not have heard me, since he didn't answer as he
quickly turned back and unfastened the strap that secured the
pack to him, then shrugged out of it.  I watched in dull interest
as he pulled gear free.  Then blinked again as I realized what he
was setting up.

"First hallucination...to bring a space heater, too."

_Two_ space heaters.  Battery-powered and running instantly.
They hummed with that reassuring sound of coming warmth,
and that's when it finally started to dawn on me.

"You're..._real._"  Couldn't be.  Three Eyes wrote me off.  The
X-Men didn't know where I was.  No one who knew would be
stupid enough to come, because the virus that was killing me
was contagious as long as I breathed.  But..."I'm
not...imagining you."  He still didn't answer as he stood to
more tightly secure the fire vent and cleared a spot on the
ground to set up a hot plate.  He put a pot over it and poured
water from a canteen in to heat.  I watched silently as he
dumped in a packet of some sort of instant soup.

"Nest," I finally ventured.  "You're...Nest."

"Yes."  He dug into the overstuffed pack again and came out
with some of those chemical hot-packs, cracking the seal
between the components and mixing them to activate the heat,
then coming over to me.  I tried to get a look at his face as he
gently pushed me back and pulled my feet out in front of me.
The hood kept blocking my view.  He pulled off the thick triple
layer of socks on each foot, then secured the packs to them.  I
couldn't even form coherent thought enough to thank him as he
treated my hands to the same.

The soup was ready almost as soon as he finished.  He filled a
cup with the steaming broth and brought it over.  It all felt
so...unreal.  Trance-like, I let him spoon-feed me, nearly
choking as liquid heat slid down my throat.  I coughed again
midway through the meal, and he supported me with firm
hands until it passed.

"You're going to live," he told me after the last of the soup was
gone.  The shadowed face tantalized my memory, but the eyes
I was looking at were completely unfamiliar.  I couldn't recall
ever seeing this fierce and caring gaze before.  "We'll get you
warmed up, and your symbiont can handle the virus."

"The...virus!  You'll...you'll catch it!"

The look in the eyes didn't change at all.  "I know."

I just stared at him, mystified.  "But...why?"

"I told you.  I owe you."

"_Why?_"

He sat back and gazed at me for a moment, silent.  And then he
wordlessly reached up a hand and pulled back the fur-lined
hood.  The face that I was met with was thin.  Haggard.  Old,
though the man probably wasn't much more than forty.

It had changed much over the past twenty years, but I still
recognized that face.  Even without the blemishes of youth.
Even without the horn-rimmed glasses and distracted
mindlessness it had held before.

"Lasher," I whispered, eyes wide.  "Steven Lasher.
Kincaid's...assistant."

He nodded slightly.  "See what I mean?  I _owe_ you."

Oh yes.  Yes, he most definitely _did._

***

In an hour, with the generous, precious heat, my lungs were
clearing.  I could still feel the heavy wetness in them, but it was
lower now.  The ache in my skull eased.  The blockage in my
throat cleared.  I could feel the sharp jabs of returning
circulation in hands and feet, though I wasn't quite able to
stand yet.

And Lasher was dying.

We hadn't spoken much over the brief and endless span of
time.  I was lost in memories; in the usually suppressed
nightmares of the conditioning process.  I remembered the
ways -- the varied, endless ways that they'd broken me.  The
starvation.  The beatings.  The sensory deprivation.  The
dehumanization.  Kincaid always overseeing...sometimes
participating actively when he thought his particular "expertise"
was needed.  And little pimple-faced Lasher at his elbow taking
notes the whole time, watching from his thick lenses as a
woman was murdered and a slave was born.

("Kneel," Kincaid ordered emotionlessly.  "Kneel, KI-5."  And
I screamed at him that I _wasn't_ KI-5, and I'd kneel to him the
day _after_ the day that I died.  He pulled the chains that linked
in a complicated series to run from heels through the arms
secured behind my back to the circlet around my throat, and I
was forced to the ground, choking and spitting in fury.  And
Lasher _watched._)

I inhaled deeply as the second hour crept by, drawing air into
lungs that were almost free of fluid.  A slight cough tried to
start, but I was able to suppress it.  Across the tent, Lasher was
slumped against the frame of his pack, eyes closed and hands
clutching helplessly at his stomach.  He'd just finished throwing
up again, and this time there was blood.

("Kneel, KI-5," Kincaid commanded.  And though I didn't
kneel, the preceding months had chased the defiant screams
from my throat.  I just stood listlessly, waiting for him to force
me down again.  And he did, as I'd known he would.  The cold
stone floor dug into my knees, bruising flesh that would heal in
minutes after I stood.  But the wounds inside didn't heal.
There's no healing symbiont for a soul.)

Into the third hour, the worst of the pain in extremities was
gone.  I freed myself from the heat packs and donned the fresh
clothing he'd brought with him, tucking hands into gloves and
flexing them experimentally.  They bent easily, sinew and
muscle once again alive and warm.  I used these miraculously
healed fingers to pull my lank hair back into a low tail,
marveling at the way they handled the motions so easily.
Lasher's wet breathing disturbed the air.  I heard the rattle of
fluid, and I shivered internally.

(I kneeled on the stone floor, feeling and ignoring the bruises
on my legs.  No chains choked me.  No ropes bound me.  I
kneeled, and Kincaid stood over me like the cruel god he'd
become, and his victorious laugh meant nothing to me.
Nothing meant anything to me.  I was empty.  Blank.  His
voice was richly content and confident as he said, "KI-5."  And
my voice echoed hollowly in the room as I answered, "Yes?")

I stood over Lasher, listening to his bloody breaths and
meeting the eyes that stared up at me.  He didn't try to speak,
though I knew he wasn't so far gone yet that he couldn't.
Those eyes were strange; alien and familiar at once.  They
didn't belong in that face.  They didn't belong with the boy in
my memories.

(I stood in the room, feeling the cold of the stone floor through
my boot soles.  Kincaid waited patiently by the door, assessing
his assistant's performance.  Lasher stood nervously in front of
me, unsure of himself with this sudden power he'd been granted
by his mentor.  His eyes were magnified by the thick lenses,
looking huge and scared and excited.  His voice shook as he
said, "Kneel, KI-5."  And I knelt.  And I heard his nervous,
ecstatic laugh.  "Look at me, KI-5," he ordered more
confidently.  I looked.  There was a grin on the thin face.  Only
an echo of the cold smile Kincaid had mastered, but there
nonetheless.  "You obey," he whispered in delight.  "You obey
me.")

I turned sharply away from those eyes, staring blindly at my
pack.  He started coughing.  I could see in my mind the red-
tinted bubbles that grew from his lips.  Could imagine the ache
in his skull all too easily.  He had a ways to go.  Probably a few
more hours of dying that would seem agonizingly longer to his
fevered brain.  But he asked nothing of me.  Nothing at all.

I bent by my pack and drew out the pistol, checking with more
thoroughness than I needed to that it was fully loaded.  He said
nothing.  I slid the clip back into place with a "click" that
seemed far too loud; louder even than his labored breathing.
He still said nothing.  The pounding in my chest couldn't be
labeled easily with any one emotion...there were too many
racing around through my head as I turned and walked to him.
I lowered myself into a crouch just in front of him, looking
again into those eyes...and seeing a man I didn't know, and one
who knew me.

"Why?" I asked softly, though I already knew.

"Penance," he whispered.  I watched the bubble expand and
break with the single word.

"Do you know where Kincaid is?"

His head shook ever so slightly.  "I'm...sorry.  I don't know."

I nodded.  Swallowed back the tightness in my throat.  "Can
you tell me anything about who I was?"

"Your...name.  All I know."

"What was it?"

The gaze was steady, the whisper broken.
"Kaitlin...Francis...Harper."

My eyes closed, and I had to swallow hard again.  Kaitlin.
Kaitlin Francis Harper.  It meant nothing in the empty holes of
my memory, but...Mama Francis?

Lids raised.  I nodded once at him.  He coughed again, face
contorting at the dagger-like pain in his chest, in his head, in
everything.  I waited until the fit passed and his teary eyes fixed
on me again.

Gently, I pressed the gun barrel up beneath his chin and told
him quietly, "I forgive you."

And then I ended his suffering.

***

I walked up the stairs to the front door of Xavier's School not 
quite two weeks after I'd first left.  I'd buried Lasher just 
outside the tent where he'd traded his life for mine, and then I'd 
radioed in for a specialized extraction.  They knew that the 
virus wasn't contagious after the host's death, but we weren't 
too sure whether or not there was a danger of me being a 
carrier since I'd contracted it and lived.  A barrage of medical 
tests and decontamination had finally declared me "safe."

There was now a sizable crater at the northernmost tip of 
Alaska.  The buzz in the spook world was that someone had 
pulled a Three Eyes...which meant that an unknown 
organization had discovered the compound and eliminated it.  
The media had been fed a story about military testing in the 
unpopulated area.  Several environmental agencies were 
already up in arms over the "wanton destruction of healthy 
wilderness."

Darius had held out hope for my survival, so he hadn't yet 
informed the X-Men of my presumed demise.  That was an 
immense relief, as I've never had the desire to join the ranks of 
X-Men who've died and come back to life.  Too much 
heartache involved in that.  Not to mention having to explain 
how I _wasn't_ dead.

I let myself in the front door, and Logan was already coming 
down the stairs with a welcoming grin.  "'Bout time ya got 
back.  I was startin' to think you were havin' too much fun out 
there."

The smile didn't come through when I tried to force it.  He 
musta seen something in my face, because he let his grin fade 
and his eyes took on a concerned glint.  "Somethin' wrong, 
Kai?"

Wordlessly, I walked into his arms.  Held him tightly, feeling 
his solid warmth.  His arms wrapped around me and I closed 
my eyes for just a moment, allowing myself an instant to revel 
in it all.

And then I drew back and smiled broadly at him.  "Just missed 
you.  That's all."

His brows were still knitted in faint worry.  "Everything go 
okay with the job?  Ya look a little shaky."

I gave a dismissive shrug, still smiling.  "Caught a little case of 
the flu.  Damn good thing I heal quick.  Had other people out 
for a lot longer."  I turned the smile into a grin and slipped my 
arms around his neck.  "But I don't wanna talk about all that.  
Aren't you gonna welcome me back?"

Lingering concern faded from his face, and he scooped me up 
into his arms, ignoring my laughing protest.  "Betcher ass I 
am," he assured, kissing me soundly even as he started us up 
the stairs.  "After all...wasn't it you who said we gotta make 
every second count?"

"Yep," I answered.  "And I got a new one:  It's _today_ that 
matters.  Not yesterday.  Not tomorrow.  _Today._"

Scott walked past us down the stairs, faltering for just a 
moment as he looked at us, then smiling a little and saying, 
"Welcome back, Kai," before taking the rest of the stairs down.  
Logan half-grinned and planted another kiss on my lips.

"I'll welcome ya back with more style," he promised.

"Prove it," I taunted as we reached the door.  He nudged it 
open and carried me through, freeing one hand to lock it 
behind us.  I glanced at the unmade bed and the familiar 
cluttered floor of the room we always stay in when one or both 
of us are at the mansion.  "Just...turn on the heater first, would 
ya?"

He raised an eyebrow, but unceremoniously dumped me on the 
bed before doing as I asked.

And then he welcomed me home.

--end--