Subject: Links in the Chain, epilogue
Date: Wed, 5 Feb 97 14:04:49 +0000
From: Mitchell Kelly <mk00nf@csl.gov.uk>
To: untold-l@netcom.com

Links in the Chain

Epilogue

X-Men fan fiction by Mitch Kelly

The X-Men and all the characters therein are the property of Marvel
Corporation. No infringement is intended. Shadowflash, Stalker, The Highest
Society, Iannis the Bear and the Spectre belong to me!

There is some sexual content and some of the language is a bit strong!
You've had yer warnin'!

This story is now archived by Mirage, as part of the Generation X Fanfic
Archive, which can be found at: http://www.bayside.net/users/mirage/ and by
Lori McDonald, whose archive is at http://web2.spydernet.com/lori/index.htm
Visit these places, they are excellent!

Although the affair of the kidnapped mutants was as good as over, it did not
end neatly.

Pete Wisdom reported that once he and Commander Simon, with Shadowcat's
help, had got the doors to the other cellblock opened, Simon had ordered a
doctor and a SOCO, or scene of crime officer, to be brought to the cells
immediately.

One of Simon's men had complied, sending out the request. Then after a
moment, he had passed Simon a mobile telephone. Simon had spoken briefly,
then turned to Wisdom.

"The Home Secretary, personally ordering me to drop the case." The anger in
Simon's voice had been obvious. Wisdom had placed a comforting arm around
his old friend. Wisdom repeated word for word what Simon had said to his two
deputies:

"Cancel the call to SOCO and the doctor," Simon had said bitterly. "But see
if you can get a priest, a rabbi and whatever Muslims have. If British
justice can't help these poor bastards, maybe a higher authority can." Simon
had kicked out angrily at the wall, then walked out of the building.

The captives were freed, and many simply melted into the London streets.
Gambit and Logan were concerned that the subliminal messages they had been
implanted with were still present. They took the captives' names, in the
hope of finding and contacting them, and having a psy undo the conditioning.

The Spectre had died on the operating table. Despite his strength and
willpower, all of Moira McTaggart's work and the hospital's efforts, he had
been too badly wounded.

The rest of the wounded survived, and recovered. Iannis, who had a pair of
badly broken legs was the most seriously injured. The wounds the rest had
suffered were not terrible serious, and as Kitty Pryde had said, most of the
damage had been undone by rest, food and comfort.

Charles Xavier had been told what had happened. He listened to the whole
story of quietly, keeping his feelings to himself. He was deeply saddened by
the deaths of all involved in the entire affair. His only consolation was
that he was the one listening to the story, and feeling the sadness it
engendered. Had it been Magneto, he shuddered to think of the consequences.
Xavier would go away, and try to learn lessons from what had gone wrong, and
try to put in place mechanisms that would prevent any repetition. He would
work to make sure it was the last such story he ever heard, but in his heart
he knew it would not be. He would give some thought to the surviving mutants
and ways to remove the subliminal orders they had received.

The X-Men and Excalibur had stayed in London for the Spectre's funeral. It
had been a simple service in a small Russian Orthodox church in North
London. The grey morning matched the moods of the mourners. Parmetkin had no
family at the service, but the pews were packed with mutant freedom
fighters, as well as Iannis and Spiros. No one wore a costume, but it was
readily apparent that those gathered together were no normal group. The
priest wondered at the diverse folk who filed past the coffin, but asked no
questions of them. One unexpected person who turned up at the funeral was
Ismael Lascaris. He had been a friend of Parmetkin's and in the absence of
Parmetkin's family, he had made the funeral arrangements. Shadowflash spoke
briefly with him.

"He were a good bloke," said the Yorkshireman.

"A very good bloke," agreed Lascaris. "One who deserves a better memorial
and service than this. But his wife's family want nothing to do with the
funeral, and as for his own family, who knows?"

"He'll be remembered," said Shadowflash softly. "I promise ye that. And
Lascaris? I'm sorry."

Lascaris nodded.

"Thank you, Paul," he said, with quiet dignity.

After the funeral, Logan got around to opening the adamantium briefcase the
Spectre had been so insistent he recover. Inside, aside from a variety of
notebooks, tools and spare ammunition, was a letter addressed to Logan. The
Canadian opened it and read:

'Dear Logan, if you are reading this then I am dead. In return for the
information I gave you regarding your past (more of which is in this case),
I have one favour to ask.'

'I have a son, Nikolai. His mother is dead. She died two years back in a car
accident. So mundane an end, after the life I have lead. Her family will
look after Kolya, but I want you to keep an eye on him. They did not like
me, and I am afraid they will poison his mind against my memory. I want him
to have someone around him who can speak to him, and explain things to him.
As one who understands the way we had to lead our lives.'

'When he is old enough, I want you to tell him about me, and about my life.
Tell him the truth - all of it. Tell him about what we did, and why, so that
he, too, understands. Tell him about duty, honour and service to your
Motherland. And tell him that his father loved him, because I did. Give him
the briefcase, when he is old enough. It will be a tangible reminder of me,
and he may even find it useful.'

'Ismael Lascaris will ensure he is financially provided for, but I would be
grateful if you could ensure he has anything else he needs - especially
someone who understands loss.'

'It was good to count you as a friend, if only for a little while.
Dassvidanya, Logan'

'Georgi Ivanovitch.'

Logan read the letter with tears in his eyes.

On the other side of London, Juliet Trelawny had survived a second board of
enquiry. Her decisions had been upheld, and she had been commended. Ian
Anson had received a posthumous commendation. Juliet Trelawny had cried
openly at Anson's funeral. She had felt something very deep for him. In
time, she felt, it would have turned into love. The X-Men had robbed her of
that. The Society had ordered her to rebuild their combat capabilities, to
make them a force to be reckoned with again. She would do it, and when she
had, Juliet Trelawny would make the X-Men pay dearly for what they had
stolen from her.

Mitch Kelly,
Analytical Chemist
mk00nf@csl.gov.uk
"Whatever it is, it can't be THAT bad!"
-Londo Mollari, Babylon 5