Wolvertique's Wondrous Works Part Deux!

[Wolvertique]

Author's Note: This story is told from Rogue's POV. It takes place some time after the events in "My Own Private Antarctica."


"Hey there." Kitty waved to me as I came into the kitchen.

"Hey." I looked for the apple juice.

Wow. That was the first time in a month I'd looked for something I wanted in there. I guess I was getting better.

You see, I was kinda out of it for a while. My ... I don't know what to call him, boyfriend, lover, the man in my life, Remy LeBeau ... split my mind into a million pieces. To say he has issues is an understatement, sugar. But then again, I'm not super functional, either.

Anyway. I absorbed his memories and his feelings once, with my powers, but I held together at the trial Magneto hosted for him. I had to. I don't know how I made it, though. As soon as it was over, I shattered. I had to just drop him and try to sort things out.

It was so bad, I don't even remember taking him back to the mansion, though they say I did. I remember only feelings, memories scattering before the wind. Hatred. Loneliness. Love. Desolation. Self-hatred was a large part of it, though other emotions swirled through me. I did think, once I let him go, because it was easier without him there, touching me. Shattering me.

I forgot who I was when I heard his voice. I spun in a void, not him, not me. No one. I had to get away.

Now, of course, I felt guilty about having stayed away. The professor kept telling me that I should talk to him, try to explain. Easy for him to say. How do ya say, "Hi, sweetie. I love you. But having you around makes me crazy, so I avoid you like the plague?"

Well, at least I don't have to tell him, "Hi, sweetie. Glad you survived, even though I left you alone in a frozen wilderness to die." At least I don't have to attend his funeral. I shivered. I'm amazed I managed to take him back here as it is. I must really love the swamp rat.

"How are you?" Kitty put down her milk. I shrugged.

"I'm me today, at least. You get kinda tired of being someone else after a while, even someone as interesting as Remy." I found the juice and gulped it down. "Tell you what, chere, absorbin' powers sucks."

Kitty's eyes widened, and I thought back over what I said. Damn it. "I did it again, didn't I?"

"Did what, Rogue?" I knew that drawn out voice. He'd stopped talking to me a couple weeks ago, but I'd heard it plenty before then. Oh, God. I had to hold on to me, that sense of me the professor had been drilling into my head.

"Talked like you." I looked over. He was there, trying to look casual, with dark circles under his eyes and more lean than when I'd last seen him. I should try to talk to him.

He snorted. "Why a woman want talk like a man she abandon, Gambit not understand."

"What are you talking about?" I slammed the apple juice bottle to the counter. "I didn't leave you. You split me apart, cher. Couldn't think wit' you fightin' for control all the damn time!"

"You blamin' me?" He blinked. "You call me cher? Since when'd you do that?"

"Since I absorbed you into me, Remy." I walked toward him. "Can't help it. Can't integrate you like the others, bub, and then you end up freein' everyone else I've ever taken. Thanks, Cajun."

Damn it. I hadn't been Logan for a week. I wanted to crush something, slash it to bits. My claws extended, and I stabbed a chair viciously. Kitty muttered something about school and left. Gambit watched me, head cocked, as I ripped the back of the chair off and threw it to the ground. I felt my self melting away again. No! Hold on, Rogue.

"You losin' yourself." He pushed away from the wall and took a step toward me.

I retracted my claws. The Cajun wasn't a bad guy, really. So why was I so pissed at the sight of him? "No more than usual, Cajun." There was a ripped up seat back in front of me. Huh. Maybe I'd gone into a rage again.

"Rogue?" He walked up to me and put his hand on my shoulder. I stared at it. He's not normally the touchy-feely type. I thought a little, then decided to let him live. He must be hurtin' over something. Probably a woman. He goes through them faster'n I go through beer.

"She ain't a bad kid." I reached for my cigars. Damn. Musta run out. Maybe the Cajun has something I can use.

He looked at me strangely. "Logan."

I nodded. "Got a cigarette? I'm tapped, and I gotta smoke somethin'."

He handed me a butt, eyes widening. "You gonna be all right, chere?"

I drew myself up, amazed at his arrogance. "Mystique is always all right." Then I looked around and saw I was in the Xavier Mansion, and frowned. "Maybe I will not. If you will help me get out of here, I shall reward you. I am loyal to those who are loyal to me." The man was not responding. I grew impatient. "Why do you not answer me?"

I dropped the cigarette I was holding. What the ... ? Gambit was looking at me like I was crazy. "Mystique?" he asked, wary red eyes on me.

"No, Remy," I said, slowly. "Did I lose it again?"

He nodded. "You been doin' that a lot?"

I sat down in a mutilated chair. "Every day since I got back." I covered my eyes with my gloved hand.

His arm came down and held me, and I started to cry. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry," he whispered into my hair.

I sniffled. "It's okay." I wiped my nose on a paper napkin. "I will help her integrate, but it will take some time, Gambit, and I have been too busy to tell you what we were doing. For that, I should apologize to you."

He stopped holding me, which I appreciated, and backed up. I am all for familiarity among my X-men, but Gambit can be too familiar at times. "Sorry, chere. Can't stay here while you doin' this. Come see me later?"

"Of course." I had a business to run, X-men to help, and numerous other difficulties on the horizon, but Charles Xavier always makes time for people who are important to him. I would indeed see Mr. LeBeau later.

He left, and I tried to move my chair. It was stuck in place.

I raised my claws and slashed the legs out from under it. Then I stood up.

Hey. My cigarette was on the floor. I picked it up and walked out. Maybe the elf was up for some hunting, or maybe I should see if Hank was up for some pool. It sure beat sitting around the kitchen doing nothing.

[Lauren]

DON'T CHANGE THE SUBJECT! you hurt Beau and now you want to stop? you must heal him!! NOWWW!!! *cries over Beau's pain*

[Wolvertique]

Beaus gonna have to wait with Bobby at the vets office a little while longer. For some reason, my Dark and Shameful Past AU is demanding my attention. Maybe because Im an evil cockatiel torturer.

Changing Vocations - Dark and Shameful Past story!

Authors Note: This story is set in my Dark and Shameful Past AU. It probably wont make sense unless you read DSP first. Whatever happened to Pietro Maximoff when the mutants at Camp American Freedom were released?

Pietro smiled with deep pleasure as he thought over the various schemes he had going this fine Christmas morning. Wanda was going to burn soon for her rebellion against him. He was near to getting a few more mutant souls. And a certain person had made him a most generous offer if he would only sell the mutant Cyclops to him for research.

He relaxed in the chair at the monitoring station. Most of the other guards were already trashed beyond bearing. He let his mind idly wander to Elena. No, she wouldnt dare drink alcohol until she knew whether or not she was pregnant. His grin deepened. It hadnt been such a bad deal after all, but Wanda still had to be punished. Giving out secrets about him was never acceptable. Not at all.

His jaw dropped, then. The cameras at the fences went down all at once, alarms started sounding, and mutants from outside were swarming into the prison. Damn it. Could he stop them?

No. This was too well-coordinated. These mutants were armed, angry, and dangerous. They cut down guards like butter. He almost applauded their cruelty. It was worthy of him. Then he got ready to flee.

How could this have happened? This was the death of all his plans, the ruin of all his fun, unless…

He moved faster than light, faster than most slow human thought, even by mutants, down to the cell block where Summers moaned away his days. In a few seconds, he had the door opened and the few people in his way knocked unconscious. "Hello, Scott," he said cheerily, and slammed his fists into the mans head until he, too, lost consciousness. He then sped away, through the nice empty gaps the invading mutants had made, running down to San Francisco.

*************************
Mr. Sinister sighed in his dark lair under the city. While he appreciated the humans for eliminating so many pathetic and weak mutants from the gene pool after the so-called Mutant Murders, they had also removed many specimens that could have been useful to his research. Indeed, the flatscans had taken some who had been loyal to him and his cause, which meant he had to find and train new staff. Always irritating.

The front door alarm sounded. Then the basement door alarm sounded, two seconds later. He waited. Ten seconds after that, Pietro Maximoff stood before him, the unconscious Scott Summers in his arms. He considered the white-haired man for a moment, then slowly intoned, "You may continue to live."

He took Scott over to a lab table as he inquired, "Have you ever had nanites injected into your bloodstream?"

Pietros voice was high-pitched and full of anticipation. "Does it hurt?"

He smirked. "Immensely."

Pietro stood before him, his sleeve rolled up on his left arm. He held it out to Sinister. "Do it." His eyes danced with dark joy. Sinister chose the syringe and depressed the plunger slowly. A willing subject would always get what he wanted.

[Wolvertique]

Authors Note: I keep writing ABOUT Wanda Maximoff in my Dark and Shameful Past AU, but Ive never written anything from her perspective before. Today, in response to a challenge elsewhere, this little story popped out.

Living and Dying in North Dakota

I was dancing with my father. He was graceful and strong, easily taking me through the steps of the waltz as I laughed, stumbling at times. I was five or six, my hair all curls, and wore a pink shirt and blue pants. His gray eyes shone down at me kindly, smiling into mine. I knew he loved me, and I adored him.

"I told you to practice, child, instead of spending so much time with your brother."

My brother? I had been spending time with my brother? I shivered and felt myself growing cold, despite the warmth of my fathers embrace. Burning heat and pain cracked across my back, my fathers hands let me go, and I awoke with a cry of longing.

I quickly slapped a hand across my mouth, trembling. My room was dark and seemed empty, but that was when he sometimes liked to strike. I was safe nowhere. I let the tears fall as I wished for my father, for someone, to come and save me. I knew he would not, though. There was no rescue, no help.

I cried for the dream and its death. I wished there was someone out there who cared enough about me to liberate me, even if my father, Magneto, did not.

I winced as I made myself arise for the day. The pain from the soul wrenching Pietro kept putting me through left physical marks on me, and today my back was heavily bruised. I put my guard uniform on and reluctantly attached the regulation nightstick. It swung from my belt, bumping against my hip as I walked to the duty roster and checked it out.

My friend Elena was there, too, looking at the schedule and frowning. Her face relaxed a little as she saw me approach. "Wanda."

"Elena. Tell me the bad news." I waited, hands at my sides, for her report. Her face was utterly still.

She shrugged and gave a false smile. "I got my first punishment duty today. Some guys been stealing stuff for a while. I get to teach him a lesson this morning."

I nodded. No one much liked punishment duty, other than my brother, who reveled in his ability to cause pain and used it whether he was assigned to or not. "I am sorry."

"Comes up for everyone, if you wait long enough." Elenas face wore the same smile, frozen in place, but her eyes spoke volumes of her pain. She was new and was having trouble fitting in, as we all did at first.

"We could go out tonight. You know, you and Vic, me and Russ?" It was standard practice for the mutant guards at Camp American Freedom to drown their sorrows after a hard day of work at Sammys bar in town. I went there often, the chill of the margaritas easing the aching fire in my head.

"Maybe. You pulled monitor duty." She tapped the clipboard and I relaxed a little. All I would have to do is watch the security cameras and make sure the output didnt show anyone doing anything against regulations. I didnt have to go among the imprisoned mutants myself, enduring their hatred of me for working with the enemy.

Well, unless one of them did something stupid that I couldnt ignore. I hoped they would behave today.

"Ill keep an eye on things for you if I can, Elena." I flinched as I sat down for the few minutes Id have before I had to go on duty. Her brows lowered in concern.

"Are you all right?" She took a seat next to mine and hissed, holding on to the table to keep from falling over. I nearly laughed, but controlled myself in time as two other guards came up to check their assignments. One was my dear brother, Pietro, and his laugh sent spasms down my spine.

"Sister mine." Pietro was by my side in a second. I could not stop the shiver that ran through my body at his presence there. What torture had he in mind for me today?

"Brother." I reluctantly looked into his eyes and gave him a smile. Sometimes it amused him if I behaved as if our relationship were normal. "How … how are you this morning?"

His icy blue eyes were warm with amusement. My right hand trembled. I tried to keep myself calm, but my worry increased. When my brother was amused, people were in great pain.

"Oh, dear sister, I am very well. Are you all right?" He looked me over, right hand tapping his club. He had illegally reinforced it with titanium so that it would hurt more. He broke my arm with it once to see if he had done it right. My hand was about to fly off the end of my arm. I put it in my lap and smiled at him again, trying to disregard the pain where my bones had once been shattered.

"Oh, yes. Just fine." Elena gently tapped the table so I would see her hand, then stroked the back of my arm. I looked at her and she pointed to her watch.

It was time to go! My shaking ceased and I rose from my chair. "Sorry, Pietro, but I have to go. Duty calls."

He smiled at me, his eyes sparkling. "Go then, dear sister." I started walking slowly, hoping that today he would not choose to trip me as I walked out the door. "What are you up to today, Elena?"

I couldnt help the relief that flowed over me as I heard him choosing another target for abuse, nor the shame in its wake. I should not want other people harmed by him, but when he tormented them, he did not go after me. I took the stairs and wearily climbed up to the observation room, taking over for David without a word passing between us. What use would there be in speaking? Nothing would change.

[Rowena]

ACK!!!!!! Poor Beau! I hope he'll be OK! Will you be writing more on him soon?

I think there's a piece missing at the start of Ch. 2 of 'One Magic Moment'.

Interesting stuff all in all. But, I still like the cockatiel story best so far! Will there be more with Beau and Kurt? Can't wait to read more!

[Lauren]

Exactly! you need to resolve this Beau hurt issue missy!

[Wolvertique]

Author's Note: Lauren's mean to me, constantly refusing to read anything of mine unless I get Beau a check-up. ::pouts:: So here it is.


The human-flock was shouting at each other in the background, but his talky wake-up human was with. Beau felt better with that talky human near him. He got as close to the talky human as he could in his cage and fluffed up, ignoring the bad feeling in his chest.

"But I want to go with Beau!" Kitty was nearly in tears.

"You can't. You have to stay here with Lockheed." Rogue, exasperated, turned to Bobby. "Got him ready to go with us?"

"Of course you're a good bird. I mean, just look at those feathers. I couldn't do that." Bobby was close to the gray fluffball, murmuring nonsense to him.

"Bobby!"

A loud scary noise entered the kitchen, as well as scary smoke. Beau tried to fly away and hissed viciously, then squeaked in pain.

"Who let Lockheed hurt Beau?" Kurt looked around menacingly. Bobby was trying to soothe Beau, who was on the floor of his cage hissing, crying out, and flapping his wings hysterically.

Kitty backed away reflexively, and Rogue took a step back, herself. It was not often that Kurt lost his temper, but when he did, he was frightening.

Bobby said in a calm, soothing voice, "Kurt, if you're going to scream at people, could you please take them outside with you? Beau's kinda scared, aren't you, good boy? And we need you calm so you can go to the vet in a few minutes, right?"

The good talky human was making meaningless noises at him that sounded nice. He decided to tell the good human that he was flock.

Beau stopped hissing long enough to wolf-whistle at Bobby, bright brown eyes half-lidded, gray foot waving in the air, orange cheek patches standing out from his yellow head. Kurt turned to Beau with concern. "I am going with you. Now." Kurt took the cage gently in his hand and Bobby turned to go.

"Hold on. Who said you got to go? I made the appointment." Rogue crossed her arms.

"You stay here with Kitty. I am going with Beau." Kurt's face reflected his anger and worry, so Rogue threw her hands up into the air.

"Fine. Just make sure you take notes. Everyone's gonna want to know what happened."

"I'll drive. You sit with him." Bobby nearly ran out of the room.

********************
Lockheed was thoroughly chastened by almost everyone present at the mansion. After an hour, the X-men in general were just sitting around, waiting for news. Finally, Bobby came into the house, carrying Beau in his cage, and was swarmed by people all talking at once.

"Stop." He put Beau in his usual place. Beau looked tired and soon had his head nestled in the feathers of his back, one bright brown eye closing and opening.

"Now. The vet says he just has a bruise. But we're going to have to feed him better." He put a list of foods on the refrigerator. "If you want to help him, try making him some of these treats for every day. He also needs at least a little time alone, so don't everyone crowd around him. He's had a hard day."

He rested, warm and snug, as the talky human made noises at his flock. He liked these humans. He liked the home he'd found, though sometimes still, in his deepest dreams, he remembered his first home and flock, and wished for them.

[Lauren]

awww that is just so adorable! *huggles you for saving Beau's life!

[RavEnigma]

Yay! Hey, when're you going to update 'Somewhere I Belong' and 'Blue Velvet Dreams'? It's been a month, and I really love those fics. Please?

[Lauren]

Nein! she must resolve the issue of Beau and Kurt to make them friends forever and ever!

[RavEnigma]

She can do all three, ya know. Besides, she updated the Beau thing yesterday, she hasn't updated BVD and SIB since February 16!

[Lauren]

but cockatiels are way more important than those other tings

[StarLightCrawler]

The story with Beau(cockatiel) is realy cute. I do like it. Though i have to side with RavEnigma. I would realy like to see what going on with the other storys if it os possible.

[Lauren]

awww *scuffs foot lightly on ground* Ok... but me wants Beau to be ok afterwards!

[Wolvertique]

::points to her post above which does update Blue Velvet Dreams::

"posted on 3/19/04 at 07:29 AM

"Update!

"Heres the latest update to Blue Velvet Dreams, fresh off the keyboard. Another chapter from Scotts perspective."

See, its hard keeping things updated on here when Im confined to one measly thread. Easy to miss stuff, no?

Its true I havent updated Where I Belong in ages. Im getting down to the wire on that particular tale, close to closing off that story arc and starting a new one. (Tentative title is Living Together, for now.)

Heres a taste of what I have so far. I warn you, its far from complete, and I wrote it without the rest of the story to check it against. Please enjoy!

Where I Belong: Decisive Action

Author’s Note: This is the last chapter of Where I Belong, in which we learn what everyone decides to do. But don’t fret! Mystique and Logan and the others will all return in Living Together, the saga of Mystique’s attempts to build a team out of the disparate and contrary individuals we have met herein. It will contain updates on Rogue’s pregnancy, romantic possibilities for Pyro and Avalanche, the further challenges of trying to have a relationship with Logan when you’re as stubborn as he is, Remy’s continued amusement at the silly things these mutants do, and Kurt’s adjustment (or lack thereof) to his mother and his friend being involved. Please do stay tuned!

**********************
I returned to my room, walking slowly and leaning on my cane. Many of the students stared at me as I made my way back down the stairs. Scott Summers was ascending as I descended, laundry in his arms, and nodded cordially at me.

That was odd. I continued on my way, puzzling over his strange friendliness. Perhaps he had, to quote my … Logan, “gotten laid.”

Logan was asleep on my bed when I returned. I stopped, looking at him. He seemed unhappy about something, flexing his claws in and out of his right hand and grunting. I was about to try to awaken him when I remembered his warning and desisted, instead going to my chair by the wall and sitting in it.

Dr. McCoy soon arrived and quietly took my vital signs. “Might I inquire about the Professor’s response to your plan?”

I cleared my throat. “He has provisionally accepted our team, assuming the others agree to join me.”

“Congratulations!” He shook my hand firmly. I kept from wincing with an effort and shifted my muscles to heal the slight damage he had caused. He then whispered, “Follow me.”

I walked with him out to the corridor. He leaned in and continued whispering, “Should you care to join our mutual friend in his slumbers, I foresee no ill effects.”

I translated his speech in my mind and smiled. “I assume you mean this time, Dr. Grey should have no concerns regarding my well-being.”

“Precisely.” He beamed at me.

“Did you inform Logan?”

“No. I had thought that task should belong to you, and,” he bent closer and whispered in a conspiratorial tone, “with you I would not have to give graphic descriptions of what I meant.”

I laughed. Logan was many things, but subtle was not one of them, particularly when someone was sensitive on a subject.

“I see. Thank you, Doctor.”

He winked. “If you ever need someone to give you a hand, or a foot, please do not hesitate to call.” He swung away down the hall as I turned back to my room and the large problem awaiting me in it.

The problem in question was yawning and stretching on the side of the bed as I re-entered the room. I took a moment to enjoy the sight. He cracked his neck and held out a hand to me. “So, how’d it go with Chuck?”

I took it and sat by his side. “As well as might be anticipated. He insisted on our following general protocol, and he wished for all of you to remain available to him when you were not working with me, but generally very well.”

“Good.” He kissed my hand and yawned again.

[RavEnigma]

Yay! Can't believe I missed that last BVD post, but I was on vacay in FL that week, and on the 19th, I was at Disneyworld, riding the rides and trying to get my picture taken with all the villains, (and Tigger). Love the chapters! I can't wait for more! Now post more Beau, please, I really like him, too!

[Wolvertique]

1. Must mention Kurt/Ororo romance
2. Must include four of the following lines:
**"I was drunk, I dont remember a thing." (counts as 2 if said by Xavier)

**"Why are you wearing a tutu?" (counts as 2 if its said to Logan)

"Na na na na na na na, BATMAN!"

"I feel pretty, oh so pretty, I feel pretty, and witty, and gay! Oh god, did I just sing that?"

"Ho Tom Bombadil, Tom Bombadillo, By root, branch, and bough, by the reed and willow! Ho Tom Bombadil, Harken now and hear us, Come Tom Bombadil, for our time is near us!" (counts as 2 if the person singing this is wearing a Tom Bombadil costume (consult LlOTR #1, somewhere in the beginning/Tolkien guide to characters for the details), or if a villain sings this while sober)

**"Good horsie"

**"Of course I know what Im doing....I think."

**"I love the Powerpuff Girls!"

**"Warren, how many times have I told you, NO DIVE-BOMBING GUESTS WITH WATER BALLOONS!"

"Freedom, Beauty, Truth, and Love!"

"Okay, you caught me. Callisto and I are going to elope next Tuesday. Now can you PLEASE stop snooping in my room?" (can be used sarcastically)

**"The same thing we do every night, Scott, try to take over the world!"

"Coincidence!" (must be shouted by 2 people at the same time. (lol, tribute to Russel Ks and my Coincidence list back when we were kids))

**"Quick, get the video camera! The professors sloshed and hes doing wheelies in the rose garden!"

**"This looks like a job for......someone else."

**"My hair gets frizzy when it gets wet, okay? But that doesnt give you any reason to ask if I stuck my finger in the wall socket again." (worth 2 if Jean or Ororo says this, especially Ororo, its just soooo ironic )

3. Scott sings "Macho Man" in front of the bathroom mirror (just after getting out of the shower) and someone videotapes it to use as blackmail, then shows it to the other X-Men anyway. (Ive been wanting for someone to use that for AGES)

4. Scott-bashing, please? I really dont like him, hes a prick.
Post here, and pleae email me a copy of the fic. My email is SperryDee13@msn.com

The First Annual X-Men Talent Show, Charles Xavier and Henry McCoy emceeing, was proving to be a great success. Jamie Madrox had done a marvelous performance of Weird Al Yankovic’s “I Think I’m a Clone Now,” Dr. McCoy had played a terribly complicated Rachmaninoff piece, and now it was Kitty’s turn. The curtain opened on Bobby Drake, long frizzy red wig in place, horribly made up, wearing one of the “fat” outfits Jean had thrown away last month. The audience burst out laughing, other than Jean, Scott, and Warren, as Bobby started humming “Some Day My Prince Will Come” into the mirror he was standing in front of. He was in a mock-up of the women’s bathroom on the second floor, where the showers were.

The door opened and Kurt, dressed in one of Kitty’s oldest and flashiest uniforms, came in, put his hand over his heart and gasped. “Why, Jean! What HAVE you done with your hair?”

Bobby pouted into the mirror and turned to face Kurt. “My hair gets frizzy when it gets wet, okay? But that doesn’t give you any reason to ask if I stuck my finger in the wall socket again. Especially since,” he declaimed with a ridiculously radiant look on his face, “SCOTT isn’t here to defend me.”

Through laughter and catcalls, Kurt struggled to get his next line out. “I won’t, I promise you.” Eyes glittering with mischief, he petted “Jean” on the head. “Good horsie.”

“Why, you!” Bobby as “Jean” swatted at him but missed him by miles, yet Kurt fell down anyway, shouting “Unfair!” and going through the trap door in the stage.

“Jean” started putting on even more makeup as “Kitty” crawled back up through the floor, adjusting his wig. Just then, “Jubilee” walked in, a blushing Jamie Madrox in a pretty blue ballerina tutu and slippers. “Jubilee!” “Jean” called. “Why are you wearing a tutu?”

Jamie blushed and looked at the index card in his hand. He read, “Because all the three-threes were taken?” He frowned as the crowd became silent. “What does that mean, Kitty?” he called off-stage.

Kitty hissed from the wings, “It means I should have gotten Logan to take over this part when Remy got sick, not you! Now go on with the play!”

Through more laughter and catcalls from the audience, Kurt gestured at Bobby threateningly. “You may have won the battle, but you have not won the war!”

“Jean” put away “her” makeup in a huge ugly old knapsack with a tag on it reading “Prada.” “Run along and play with your fellow Powerpuff Girls, Kitty.”

“Kitty” made an angry face and ran offstage as “Jubilee” went center stage and said, “I love the Powerpuff Girls!”

The curtain closed, sets were swapped out, and the curtains opened on the mens restroom. There was a large 2x4 board there, upright, with red sunglasses and a small X-uniform on. It rose a small way into the air and moved jerkily on its wires to the tune of "Macho Man," and Scott screamed. "You said youd keep that a secret!"

"Kitty" could be seen through the small window above the mens showers, video camera in "her" hand, eagerly taping Scott the 2x4s performance. Then "Bobby" walked in, Jubilee in a brown wig, the music cut out, and the board rested itself against the wall again. She waved at it cheerily. "Hi, Scott! Hey, did you hear the one about the priest, the rabbi, and the bartender?"

"Bobby" paused. "The same thing we do every night, Scott, try to take over the world!"

Then "Warren" entered, a bright but cold Emma Frost taking the part and looking it far more than anyone else so far, soft white wings at her back, carrying balloons and filling them at the counter. "Warren" nodded to Scott the 2x4, then frowned as she filled her first balloon. "Of course I know what Im doing. I think."

"Bobby" snickered as "Warren" pretended to listen to the board. "You never want me to have any fun. You say I shouldnt divebomb guests with water balloons all the time, Scott. Have you ever tried it, or anything else fun?"

Finally, Kitty made her appearance, fake muscles bulging, nearly covered with hair, a cigar stuck in the corner of her mouth … as "Logan." She silently walked over to the sink and started pretending to wash her hands.

"Hey, Logan," "Bobby" and "Warren" chorused. Kitty grunted and kept washing her hands.

She grunted again and took the cigar out of her mouth. "I dont like you." The board remained motionless at this comment, though some people were rolling in the aisles by now.

"So Logan. Whats up?" "Bobby" clapped him on the back, and "Logan" turned around and threw him to the ground.

"Not much." He paused. "Professors out back."

"Hey, guys! Guys!" Ororo, apparently trying to imitate Forge, burst into the restroom. "Anyone here have the video camera?"

Kurt winked from the window and sank from view, but not before "Forge" blew him a kiss.

"Bobby" shrugged, "Warren" finished filling a balloon, and the board and Kitty remained still.

"Quick, get it! The professors sloshed and hes doing wheelies in the rose garden!" "Forge" and "Bobby" left. The board rose jerkily into the air and flew into a wall, then offstage.

"Arent you coming?" "Warren" asked, pausing before he left.

"Nah. This looks like a job for someone else."

[Wolvertique]

Naughty Scott Bashing Challenge, Chapter 2!!

Author’s Note: I was inspired to write this chapter 2 by my chapter 1. I thoroughly enjoyed my #1, don’t get me wrong, but if you want to keep the Scott bashing views and light-hearted tone it holds, for the Gods’ sake don’t read this chapter. It tries to humanize Scott and explain why he was behaving like an arrogant fathead. Also, it contains much slashiness and angst, so if you dislike them, don’t read it either.

Now, for both of you readers who are left, please enjoy!

***************************
Before the last number in the talent show started, Scott Summers got up and left the room, face red as his visor. Bobby happened to be off-stage and decided to follow him.

Scott rounded on him as soon as he noticed that Bobby was pursuing him. “What? Didn’t you get in enough insults earlier?”

“Whoa, whoa there. You know you kinda deserve it, after the way you’ve been treating Jean-Paul. That’s why Kitty rode you so hard in the play.” Bobby was puzzled. Scott seemed to be on the verge of punching him. He backed up a couple steps.

“Yeah. Good old Jean-Paul, the most arrogant asshole to ever come out of Canada. And that’s saying something, given that Logan also comes from there.” Scott slammed his fist into his left hand in rage. “Figures you’d prefer him to me. We only joined the team together, had some tough times we supported each other through, all that. He even …” Scott bit his lip and scowled at the floor. “Never mind. I’m leaving.”

“Scott?” Bobby pulled at the man’s shoulder. “What is it? Come on, talk to me. Did J-P do something to you?”

“No.” He jerked out of Bobby’s grip and turned on him. “It’s what he wants to do to you.”

Bobby laughed. “Scott, everybody knows J-P would slap us all silly and make us little French speaking clones of him if he could.”

“Oh. Really. And does everybody know that he’s having sick sexual fantasies about you?” Bobby’s eyes widened and Scott took a step back, then stopped, chin raised boldly. “That’s right. Our famous Canadian mutant wants to screw your ass, Bobby. What do you have to say to that?”

Bobby gave his usual joking reply, “Um, he has good taste in men?”

Scott was silent. Bobby didn’t know what to say. Scott had sounded angry, sure, but he also sounded hurt. He stammered, “God, Scott … are you saying you’re jealous?”

The doors opened behind them and the audience started pouring out into the reception room beyond, but a few people were making their way over to the two men staring at each other in the passageway.

“What?” Scott’s mouth dropped open a little. Bobby thought it over and nodded. The constant nagging, the way he sought out the man for more and harder practices than anyone else, it all made sense.

“You’re jealous. God, Scott. I didn’t know you had a crush on the guy. I just thought you hated him.”

Scott snarled at him, face even more red. “Great. I just told the fucking Bobby Drake Gossip Network one more thing they can hate about Scott Summers. ‘He’s a fucking fairy, you know, the one all the gay jokes are about.’ Why don’t you just tie a huge fucking sign to Warren’s ass and have him fly over the whole town so everybody can come over and KILL ME tomorrow?”

Scott turned and ran halfway down the hall, then looked back, hand on his visor. Bobby backed up, as did Kitty, Rogue, and Dazzler. He aimed at the ceiling and brought it down between them, raising a cloud of dust and smoke. Kitty phased after him, but Bobby stood there shaking his head. What the man must have been going through all this time … didn’t Xavier know? Should he try to help or just leave him alone?

*************************
Scott slammed the door to his room and sank back against it, relieved to at least be in a familiar place. His tears dripped down onto his sweater as he sat down on the floor and let his grief out. He brought his knees up to his chest and hugged them for comfort.

Scott knew some people at the mansion didn’t much like him, but he didn’t think anyone hated him so much as to humiliate him like this in public. The Avengers had been here, as had most of the other major superheroes in this galaxy. Thankfully, his father and the Starjammers had been too busy with a mission to come, and Alex and Lorna were off digging up rocks in South America, but everyone else was there.

The professor didn’t try to stop them. He shed bitter, angry tears over that. He thought Professor Xavier cared about him, at least.

A warm presence entered his room. “Go away, Kitty, you … go away.”

“But, Scott, I …”

“I said go!” He sprang to his feet and pointed toward the main wing of the mansion. “You’ve done enough damage for one night, haven’t you?” A tear tickled down his nose and splatted on the carpet.

She sighed. “I’m sorry, Scott. I really am.” She left and he sat down again to indulge his grievances again.

So the professor didn’t really care about him. Fine. He could deal with that.

Jean did, though. In no way could he twist anything she had done or said tonight into anything less than concern and support. Of course, now that she knew he was more into men than women, she’d probably reject him too.

Oh, God. Now everyone was going to come down on him hard. He inhaled a deep breath that hurt. What about Northstar? Of anyone, he had the most right to be angry at Scott.

He had been quite a prick to the man, he had to admit, far beyond anything the arrogant bastard deserved, for the crime of stirring passions in Scott that he found it difficult to control. He had ruthlessly crushed out most other attractions he’d felt over time, to his teammates Kurt and Remy during his time with the X-men, and to other nameless men from his youth. Somehow Northstar got under his skin worse than the others ever had.

**Scott?**

He sniffled. **Go away, Professor.**

He felt the gentle mental touch giving him a little comfort, as if it were a pat on the shoulder, and then withdrawing.

What was he thinking about before he was interrupted? Oh. Yes. Northstar. Why he couldn’t simply forget the man, he didn’t know. Maybe it was because he knew that he was gay and thus available. Maybe it was a facet of his personality, some spark of difference that made him stand out. Maybe it was finding that damned fantasy two months ago and wishing with all his heart that it had been about him, that he could have inspired such golden words about his touch, his caress. Maybe it was the shattering of the small hope he’d let grow inside that somehow the beautiful, annoying, irritating man would turn to him some day and say …

Bamf.

Great. Wagner was here and he didn’t have the energy to tell him to back off. Bastard.

He closed his eyes and took off his visor, wiping the tears from his face onto his sleeve. “What do you want, Kurt?” he asked, tired of fighting his damned teammates for his privacy. He replaced his visor and looked at the purple mutant through the vanishing red brimstone.

Kurt perched next to him, long legs curled up comfortably. “To make you feel better.” He rested his head on his arms. “How can I help?”

“You can’t. Get out.” He shook his head. “There’s nothing anyone can do.”

Kurt sighed. “I won’t leave. You know that.” He took Scott’s hand in his, purple fur brushing against his palm.

“Why? Doesn’t your religion demand that you tell me I’m going to burn in hell, then leave, before I contaminate you?” He closed his eyes, trying to shut out the empathetic eyes that bored into his mind.

“No. My religion demands that I tell you that He accepts everyone, even people like you who would shut Him out if you could, despite what some say who misuse the faith.”

“Whatever.” He remained as he was, sunk down against the door, one arm embracing his knees, the other stretched over to Kurt.

“Please, mein freund. Let me help you.”

He laughed. “Sure.” He bounded up and paced ferociously, Kurt’s orange eyes watching him with worry. Kurt couldnt help him, make him normal, make him want to follow Jean in the hallway so he could watch her rear sway instead of Remys. He laughed again, a cold, frightening sound that he choked off halfway through because it terrified him.

Kurt jumped onto his bed and crouched there, tail lashing in distress. “You know,” he said as he watched Scott wearing a trail into his carpet, “I have never been able to hide what I am … well, until the image inducer. From a baby, I was blue and furry.”

Scott felt a little shame but kept walking, head down. Kurt continued talking. “I guess that was a blessing. I can now hide what I am, but I choose not to because I like what I am. I like being me.”

“Well, good for you.” The cruelty came unbidden, and this time Scott did not crush out the shame he felt. “Sorry,” he said ungraciously.

Kurt nodded. Scott returned to pacing. “Still,” Kurt added, “I know what it is like to be murdered for what I look like … nearly. Without the professor, I would be dead today.” He slid down to the floor and pulled Scott close, hugging him. Scott permitted it, but remained stiff in Kurt’s arms, refusing to let his control slip again. “I offer you my ears any time you wish to complain.” His eyes sparkled and Scott felt his muscles relax a little. He gave Kurt a halfhearted pat on the back and then pulled away.

Kurt winked and left with another soft bamf. Scott threw himself down on his bed. He didn’t know what to do. He closed his eyes for a minute and was soon deep in dark, strange dreams.

*******************************
Jean-Paul Beaubier was figuring out his lesson plans for the next semester instead of attending the talent show, though he had worked with Rogue beforehand to help her test out her routine. He was deep in Week Eight (Running on the Margins) when the knock startled him out of his reverie. “Oui?” he called.

“Heya, J-P, open up, would ya?” Bobby Drake was at his door. He looked at his watch, startled. Eleven o’clock already?

He adjusted his collar, brushed a small piece of lint off his navy blue sweater, and opened the door. Bobby rushed into his room. “Close the door, would you? There’s a draft.”

Jean-Paul stood in the doorway, one eyebrow raised. “What are you doing here?”

Bobby bounced onto his bed. “Oo. Nice. Close the door so we can talk, okay?”

“Merde,” he muttered, closing the door. “What do you want, Bobby?”

“Well, it’s not really what I want.” Bobby stretched out on the bed, mussing up the neat black silk bedspread, and Jean-Paul glared at him.

“Get off my bed.” He pulled out his desk chair and held it out in invitation. “Sit. You have five minutes before I throw you out, Monsieur Drake.”

Bobby reluctantly got up and moved to the chair. “Okay. I kinda outed Scott tonight. I didn’t mean to, but …”

Jean-Paul interrupted him. “Scott Summers.” Bobby nodded. “Gay.” Another nod. “You told people about it.”

Bobby looked at him sheepishly. “Well, I just got it figured out and I was talking about it as I did, and I wasn’t really paying attention to who else was listening.” He fidgeted under the icy blue stare Northstar was giving him. “Don’t look at me like that. I didn’t mean to do it. I was just teasing him. I didn’t really think he was gay … for God’s sake, we’ve been teammates for eons. I thought I’d know by now if he was.”

Jean-Paul folded his arms over his chest. “So what do you want me to do?”

“I don’t know. Talk to him. He’s thrown Kitty and the professor out so far, and I’m sure he’s going to toss Kurt out on his ear, too. He wouldn’t talk to me either. Maybe he’d talk to you.”

He hesitated, tapping his fingers against the wood of his desk. “What makes you think he’d talk to me?”

“Hey. Worst case scenario, he tosses you out. He’s done worse than that to you already. Best case scenario, he finally gets some relief from his pain and stops being an ass to you. It’s a win-win for you, J-P.” Bobby ran his fingers through his hair distractedly. “Besides, seeing that …” He paused and his eyes shifted, then dropped to the floor. “Never mind.”

Jean-Paul pulled his chin up. “Never mind what, Robert Louis Drake?” He hated having things hidden from him.

Bobby squirmed. “I shouldn’t tell you. It’s kind of a secret.” He blushed as Jean-Paul’s face drew closer to his and his breath became uneven, nervous, eyes shifting from side to side, looking for escape.

“I think you do have to tell me, non?” Jean-Paul worked on staring the other man down, seeing his nervousness at his approach. Bobby was not going to hide important information from him.

Bobby was nearly dancing in his seat, trying to pull away from Jean-Paul’s determined gaze. “Well, ScottkindafoundsomefantasyyouwroteaboutmeandgotjealoussomaybeyoucanhelpnowIgottagobye!” Bobby choked out, then turned to ice and slid out of Jean-Paul’s hand and sped toward the door.

Jean-Paul was there ahead of him, turning the key in the lock and putting it into his pants pocket. “Say it again slower, please.”

Bobby panicked, running to the window and then bracing himself in the furthest corner of the room, a terrified look on his face.

Jean-Paul drew himself up to his full height and tensed. This is just like other times, other places…even mutants dont accept me. “Get out.” He unlocked the door and opened it, violently swinging his arm to encourage Bobby to leave.

Bobby relaxed a little and said, “No, no, J-P, I just…”

“GET OUT!” He pushed the frozen body of Bobby Drake through his door and locked it after him in a second, then sank to the bed and trembled. He felt as if he had been assaulted here. He hated when people looked at him like he was a monster for being who he was, who he had to be. And Scott had found something he wrote to make himself feel better, about a random person who had shown him some kindness …

Jean-Paul Beaubier pulled away from the bedspread in time to keep from spoiling it with his tears.

[Lauren]

that bastard! you should have storm zap him with lightning or something!

[Wolvertique]

Okay...so maybe I didn't do a good job of getting sympathy for Scott. Freakin' sue me. All you'd get is practice.

[Wolvertique]

Here's the real update for Where I Belong. Please enjoy!

*********************
I returned to my room, walking slowly and leaning on my cane. Many of the students stared at me as I made my way back down the stairs. Scott Summers was ascending as I descended, laundry in his arms, and nodded cordially at me.

That was odd. I continued on my way, puzzling over his strange friendliness. Perhaps he had, to quote my … Logan, “gotten laid.”

Logan was asleep on my bed when I returned. I stopped, looking at him. He seemed unhappy about something, flexing his claws in and out of his right hand and grunting. I was about to try to awaken him when I remembered his warning and desisted, instead going to my chair by the wall and sitting in it.

Dr. McCoy soon arrived and quietly took my vital signs. “Might I inquire about the Professor’s response to your plan?”

I cleared my throat. “He has provisionally accepted our team, assuming the others agree to join me.”

“Congratulations!” He shook my hand firmly. I kept from wincing with an effort and shifted my muscles to heal the slight damage he had caused. He then whispered, “Follow me.”

I walked with him out to the corridor. He leaned in and continued whispering, “Should you care to join our mutual friend in his slumbers, I foresee no ill effects.”

I translated his speech in my mind and smiled. “I assume you mean this time, Dr. Grey should have no concerns regarding my well-being.”

“Precisely.” He beamed at me.

“Did you inform Logan?”

“No. I had thought that task should belong to you, and,” he bent closer and whispered in a conspiratorial tone, “with you I would not have to give graphic descriptions of what I meant.”

I laughed. Logan was many things, but subtle was not one of them, particularly when someone was sensitive on a subject.

“I see. Thank you, Doctor.”

He winked. “If you ever need someone to give you a hand, or a foot, please do not hesitate to call.” He swung away down the hall as I turned back to my room and the large problem awaiting me in it.

The problem in question was yawning and stretching on the side of the bed as I re-entered the room. I took a moment to enjoy the sight. He cracked his neck and held out a hand to me. “So, how’d it go with Chuck?”

I took it and sat by his side. “As well as might be anticipated. He insisted on our following general protocol, and he wished for all of you to remain available to him when you were not working with me, but generally very well.”

“Good.” He kissed my hand and yawned again. “What was up with Hank?”

I hesitated, then decided to keep this information to myself for the time being and surprise him with it later. “He told me that there were no further barriers to physical activities on my part, as long as I do not exhaust myself.”

He started laughing. “Yeah, that sounds like Hank, all right.” I relaxed a fraction. He sighed. "So, you going to tell everyone about the prof's decision, or are ya gonna wait for them to come to you?"

"Let them come to me. I have never been one to force membership in a group on anyone."

His blue eyes twinkled at me. "Bet the elf'd appreciate bein' asked, though."

I thought about that, how hurt Kurt had been by the many things I had done over the years, and his current pain over my relationship with Logan. It came to me finally that one reason for his discomfort might be that I was choosing someone else over him. I nodded briskly. "Let us find my son."

He helped me to my feet, then took out his communicator. "Chuck give you one of these yet?"

I frowned. "No, though he did issue me a uniform. He assures me that by the time I am ready to use it, it will fit." The thing had hung on me. I looked like a child trying to wear her mother's clothing.

Logan spoke into the communicator for a moment, then closed it. "We're in luck. Kurt, Rogue, and Remy are all in the kitchen. Let's go." He readied my wheelchair. I sighed but reluctantly sat in the metal reminder of my inability to walk. I found myself pitying Charles as Logan wheeled me to the kitchen to tell my children what had happened. I would be able to walk again. He would not. He must hate his chair more than I hated mine.

*********************************
As the two of them approached, Mystique and Logan, two of the three figures at the table sat up. Remy remained relaxed, leaning against the back of his chair. Rogue leaped to her feet and took Mystique's chair from Logan, helping her into a spot by an empty chair. Kurt tensed and watched the two of them. God, help me to relax. It is none of my business … but still …

He sat by her, lifting a lock of her red hair from her face gently, and she smiled in thanks. Kurt watched, amazed. He does love her. I have been trying to deny it, but he does. She loves him. Where does that leave the rest of us?

Mystique rested her hands on the table, then stood. "I wanted to tell you in person," she said, slow and steady, amber eyes sweeping them all in turn. "Charles has approved my team with the proviso that you remain available to work with the X-men, should there be a need. I wanted to ask you each, personally, however, to join with me. I believe each of you have valuable skills you could bring to our team." She focussed on Kurt. "I also care deeply for you and wish you to remain close to me, whatever your decision."

Remy smiled, put a hand in his pocket, and pulled out a red poker chip. "Gambit's in." Rogue just nodded. "Mama."

Kurt held back a little. He was still worried, worried for Mystique and worried about Logan. He looked down at the table, watching the fur on his right wrist. He remembered the stories Mystique had shared with him about his father. He had to ask.

"Mother?" he said, not looking up. He felt glances being exchanged and then saw a slim blue hand, close to his own dark shade, take his.

"Yes, Kurt?" Her voice was neutral.

"Do you truly care for Logan, as you once did my father?" He waited, head bowed. Soft rustles met his ears. Her hand tensed on his.

"Logan is not your father. However," she paused to breathe, then rushed out, "I do love him and wish to stay with him."

Logan inhaled sharply. Rogue shifted in her seat. Remy remained lazily inclined in his seat, toying with another chip. Her hand remained tense on his.

He sighed and finally looked up. "And you?"

Logan tore his eyes away from Mystique, who was proudly looking off into the distance toward the cabinets above the sink. He looked amazed and pleased. "Much the same, elf."

"I want to hear it." He put his hand on top of his mother's, which had relaxed as Logan spoke.

"Of course I love her. She's stubborn, arrogant, irritating, cocky, and pushy. Just like me. Wonderful." He took her other hand and she looked into his eyes with love and exasperation.

Kurt smiled and sighed. "I will join you. I hope the best for the two of you. May He bless you." He felt a weight drop from his chest and squeezed his mother's hand.

Remy nudged him. "Take her hand wit' your other one, homme." He held out his gloved hand to Kurt, who switched hands and took it. The others quickly caught on and soon they were all holding hands in a circle, sharing the rare closeness of this moment together.

[RavEnigma]

*sighs* awwwwwww. How sweet! But now Kurt's the only one who isn't paired up! (hint hint) Love this!

[Wolvertique]

Uhm...no. Actually, of the new team, Pyro, Avalanche, AND Kurt are single so far. But I have some ideas, at least for Av and Py. I'm not saying what I have planned for Kurt.

[Rowena]

It's really interesting to see Kurt's reaction to his friend being involved with his mother. I can see Logan as Kurt's stepfather. Cool!

I'm with Lauren, though. Are you going to 'resolve the issue of Beau and Kurt to make them friends forever and ever'? I really liked that last part, and I'm so glad Beau's injuries weren't serious!

[Lauren]

see? Rowena and I need closure on this missy! so get to it!