Kid Dynamo Chapter 12: "Family Feud"
    by Connie Hirsch
    
    Prologue
    
    'Lito woke to the sound of a TV playing very softly.  He opened
 his eyes, surprised by the crisp feel of the sheets, the tangy-sterile
 smell of his surroundings, and a peculiar muzziness that stifled his
 empathic ability.
    A slow turn of his head let him take in the room:  an infirmary,
 the surrounding beds containing two of his classmates, a nurse's station
 with an occupant whose back was fortunately turned. 
    He shut his eyes and lay still.  He recognized the fuzziness in
 his head: Thorazine, which depressed his empathy, and affected his
 thinking.  But he must be coming out of a dose, else he could not think or
 feel so sharply as he did now.
     _Remember your training_. he scolded his rapidly beating heart.
 _Observe, consider, act_.
    _Observe_ he had.  _Consider_ would include reviewing just how he
 had come to be here.  His last clear memory was parking his car at the
 Hellfire Club.  He'd _convinced_ Catseye to come along on this expedition,
 _La Reya_ had wanted an evaluation of the birdlike boy -- or boylike bird
 -- currently on exhibit at the Children's Zoo in Central Park. 
    Events had proceeded normally as they had gone to the Park ...
 until they'd been attacked.   
    _Ah_, he thought.  Suddenly he could remember -- the attack, too
 quick to counter, the resulting weakness.  He remembered using his power to
 force fellow victims to bear them to phones and then the long time, lying
 there on the path, too weak to do aught but stare at the sky.  [Little
 Sister, you must come,] he remembered saying to Europa as she faded in and
 out.
    That would have had to have been a hallucination; for the sight of
 Illyana bending over him had been so much more solid ... and unpleasant. 
    ["Please,"] he'd said, at the end of his strength, too feeble to
 try to use his empathic power. 
    "Hey," Illyana said and shrugged.  "Guess it's your lucky day,
 'guy'." 
    He had closed his eyes, drifting off, only to open them again with
 the feeling that time had passed.  Wolfsbane had held a cup to his lips and
 he had gratefully sipped. 
    Sometime later, he'd been moved to a hospital bed.  He remembered
 an injection in his arm, and when he'd looked up at the faces he'd
 recognized some of the New Mutants even as a languorous unconsciousness had
 overtaken him. 
    _Ah_, he thought again.  He sat up, automatically reaching out
 with his power to command the nurse to his side, frowning as he realized
 the Thorazine was still working. 
    "Nurse," he called.   "I'm awake." 
    She came around the doorway, stood and stared at him.  He was
 annoyed he couldn't read her more than to register strong emotion.  To
 judge from her body language, she was on the verge of anger.
     "There's a tray for you," she said, setting it up on a bedside
 table for him. 
    "Thank you," he said. 
    She still looked at him coldly, and he wondered if he'd ever done
 anything to her.  She looked familiar -- had she been the school nurse
 before, when he had tried to subvert Magneto?  He had a bad memory where
 servants were concerned. 
    'Lito dismissed the matter from his concern.  When his power came
 back, he was confident of his ability to change her attitude.  It was
 difficult to respect people's feelings when they were so easily changed. 
    "I can help with that, Sharon," said a warm alto voice that sent a
 wave of relief through him. 
    "Europa," he said, smiling at his no-longer-little "sister."  He
 couldn't get used to how tall and beautiful she'd grown or how much she
 resembled her father now, with her hair so white. 
    "You can go up and get yourself something to eat," Europa said to
 the nurse.  "I'll help 'Lito with breakfast, and call you if anyone else
 wakes up."  
    
    * * *
    
    'Lito didn't get a chance to talk much, because every time he
 opened his mouth I put a spoonful of porridge in it, like a mother bird
 dutifully stuffing worms down her nestling's gullet.  In truth, I don't
 think he minded too much, he seemed ravenously hungry, and he was still
 gaunt from yesterday's ordeal.  I chattered away, bringing him up to date
 about events.
    It was positively surreal.  While Apocalypse had attacked New
 York, the X-Men had fought an entity called the Adversary for the fate of
 Reality, or so this being had claimed.  Maybe he lied.  At any rate, the
 networks had a tough time keeping up.  My exploits across Manhattan would
 have made the national news if it hadn't been for Dallas.  I was just as
 glad.
    It had been so strange to come back to the Mansion, ready for a
 hero's welcome or perhaps a stiff scolding, only to find everyone clustered
 around the TV's, chewing their nails over the X-Men's peril...  and to have
 that come to such a lousy ending.
    'Lito didn't say much when I mentioned that the X-Men had died.
    "So," he said, "What does Magneto do now?"
    "I think that's up to the other X-Men," I said.  "Kitty and Kurt
 and Peter are still at Muir Island, and it's their decision, and Magneto's,
 if the team continues."
    'Lito still looked a little out-of-focus.  I was initially shocked
 when Sharon told me he'd had a shot of Thorazine, but that was what the
 White Queen had prescribed over the phone -- for good reason: when he was
 injured, his projective empathy tended to sideline his caretakers.
    Catseye awoke, and 'Lito watched CNN as I made sure she got her
 breakfast as well.  While I served her I tried to put the events of the
 day before into some perspective.  For all my emotional trials and
 tribulations in Manhattan, I'd been one of the few who'd hung together on
 hearing the dire news from Dallas.  I'd ended up pitching in alongside
 Magneto, throwing together a late dinner that hardly anyone had eaten.
  With unspoken agreement, Magneto and I hadn't talked about our relationship
 or what happened to both of us that day.
    Rahne and Doug came down from breakfast with Sharon to help take
 care of Catseye and Roulette.  I went to sit with 'Lito again in the far
 corner of the infirmary.
    "[Have you thought about your future?]" he said.
    "[Only most of the time,]" I said.  "[I haven't made any decisions
 yet.]"
    "[Have you thought about coming with me?]" he said.  My face must
 have given away my dismay; he lowered his eyes and said, "[I wish you would
 not dismiss it out of hand; it would not be so awful.]"
    I shut my eyes for a moment.  "[You know I do not want to be a
 superhero -- or villain -- little brother]" I said.  "[I don't see how I
 could avoid it with the Hellions.]"
    "[Truly, I do not know how or with whom else you could avoid such a
 fate.]" he said.  "[Certainly, you will not avoid it entirely, here.]"
    "[I'd like to think I could become a doctor, live a peaceful
 life,]" I said.
    "[Promise me you'll speak with the Queen,]" he said.  "[You said
 she is coming to take us back to the Academy.  Speak with her, see what
 she has to offer.]"
    "[And what's that?]" I said.
    "[Protection,]" he said.  "[Bad times are approaching, for every
 mutant.  As a member of the Hellfire Club, you could study medicine in
 safety and peace.]"
    "[In exchange for -- ]" I said.
    "[The occasional use of your power, in self-defense.  No more
 than you'd do for yourself, really.]"
    "[But the Queen--]" I said.
    "[Is not as 'evil' as you would think,]" 'Lito said and coughed.
 "[She has spoken to me about recruiting you.  She knows I would refuse
 to compel you, and she does not believe she can telepathically change your
 mind.  She wants you with us on your own terms.]"
    I found myself wondering if my little brother spoke the truth.
 He'd never have lied to me in the past, but this was a stranger before
 me, a stranger in so many ways.  I could no longer trust him.
    "[Would you influence me to come with you?]" I said quietly.
    'Lito looked sad.  "[What is the saying -- If you love something,
 let it go?]" he said.  "[If you come with me, it means you truly love me,
 for me, not for my power.]"
    "[And if I do not come with you, does it follow that I do not love
 you?]" I said softly.
    He shook his head.  "[No,]" he said.  "[You do not like the Queen,
 you do not like the Hellfire Club.  I wish I could make you understand --
 but I can only influence emotions, not understanding.]"
    "[I shall always be your 'little sister.']" I said.  "[No matter
 what.]"
    "[You came for me,]" he said.  "[I will remember that.  You can
 always change your mind,]" he said.  His head slumped.  "[I am still quite
 tired,]" he said with a rueful smile.  "[If you will help me back to my
 bed?]"
    I got him tucked away, he drifted off almost immediately, so tired
 was he.  Asleep, he looked so much younger, less cynical, more like the
 sweet 'Lito of my childhood.
 
    * * *
    
    Sharon caught me on my way back upstairs.  "Jess," she said, and I
 wondered if she was going to ask me about what I'd talked about with 'Lito.
 Lots of leftover bad feeling there.  "I have a difficult task," she said.
 "I wonder if you could help Warlock and Mist?"
    "What is it?" I said.
    "Several of the X-Men's relatives are coming over this afternoon,"
 she said.  "Brian Braddock, Betsy's brother, for all of her stuff, and
 Scott Summers will want to pick up Alex's belongings.  Could you help pack
 up their rooms?"
    "Why, sure," I said.
    Sharon had asked Mist and me to help because we hadn't been
 personally involved with the deceased, and Warlock because he wasn't
 sentimental.  Still, it was a sad job, to pack up all of someone's life and
 put it into anonymous cardboard cartons.  I'd had to do it once with
 Noemi's stuff, which was still in storage in Cincinnati; when I turned 18,
 I was going to retrieve it.  There hadn't been much in the way of family
 heirlooms, just some albums and some favorite pictures, but they still held
 some great memories.  Maybe what we packed today would someday be
 comforting to somebody else.
    I volunteered for Psylocke's room, as it looked like she'd had the
 most stuff and it had to be all ready to go when her brother arrived.  I
 could make quick work of it with telekinetic packing.  Unlike some of the
 other X-Men, she'd extensively redecorated to her own taste, moving in an
 exquisite dresser and dressing table, antique lamps and other items.  I
 attacked the drawers and closets first, which were packed full.  Psylocke
 had liked to play dress up.  Doug had mentioned that she had once been a
 model.
    I put the last of her thirty-odd pairs of shoes into the box when
 Stevie Hunter walked in.  "How you doing, Jess?" she said.  She looked
 tired, slight bags under her eyes, from sleeplessness or crying or both.
    "I'm fine," I said.  "I'm trying to decide what else gets packed."
    "Anything small enough to fit in a box," she said.  "Charles had an
 arrangement with the X-Men that he'd buy the furniture; they just had to
 pick it out."
    "That makes it simpler,"  I said. "I'm still wondering how Mr.
 Braddock is going to get it all back to England."
    "Illyana's offered to transport it," she said, sitting down on the
 corner of the bed.  "Brian won't have any trouble carrying it all -- he's
 also known as Captain Britain."
    "Oh -- one of ours, so to speak?" I said.  I unfolded several more
 boxes as we spoke, wrapping newspapers around the knick knacks and stowing
 them away.  I held back a silver-framed photograph from the dresser; a
 purple-haired Betsy hugging a big hunky blond man.  Psylocke hadn't been a
 shrimp, but the behemoth must have been 6' 6" easy and weighed twice what
 she did.  "That him?" I held it for Stevie to look.
    "You'll get to meet him in the flesh," she said.  A strange look
 passed over her face, and she got up and went quickly from the room.  It
 was so strange I stowed the picture carefully away in a newspaper cocoon
 and followed her out to the hall only to find she'd ducked into the hall
 bathroom.  Through the door I could hear retching noises.
    "Are you okay?" I said, once silence broke out.
    She opened the door of the bathroom, the toilet flushing behind
 her.  "Sorry," she said.  "It must be a touch of stomach flu --  I've been
 getting sick on and off the last few days, and the emotional rollercoaster
 we've been on hasn't helped."
    "If you're sick, you shouldn't be up here,"  I said.  "You know,
 the idea was for me to spare you a little by packing up.  Aren't you kind
 of short-circuiting that?"
    "Sharon's idea," she said.  "We each have our own way of saying
 goodbye.  At least this way I'm helping."
    She was actually slowing me down, but I didn't point that out.  I
 had the rest of the personal items packed in a few minutes anyway, and then
 we moved down the hall to Havok's room, passing by Dazzler's room where
 Warlock was simultaneously packing ten boxes with dozens of tentacles.
    Havok hadn't inhabited his room very long, some of his clothing was
 still in his suitcase.  It was depressingly bare to be the sum total of a
 man's life, and I wondered how Scott Summers would feel when we handed it
 over to him.  He had to be devastated, what with his former teammates, his
 brother, and his ex-wife all gone.
    "Are you finished with the packing of boxes, Jess?" said Mist from
 the doorway.  She'd chosen a black flannel shirt and dark jeans to wear,
 her cornsilk-bright hair held back with barrettes.  I suppose being a
 Valkyrie, she'd taken the deaths as just another day's work.  Certainly
 Dani didn't.
    "We're done in here," I said.  "What's left?"
    "I've finished Rogue's room, so there's Longshot, Wolverine, and
 Storm," Mist said.
    "Do you want me to finish up the rest of the rooms now?" I asked
 Stevie.
    "I think Logan has some items that belong to Lady Mariko," Stevie
 said.  "His room should wait until we can contact her and determine what
 she wants done."
    "Lady Mariko?" I said.
    "His -- ah -- girlfriend," Stevie said.  "They were almost married
 once.  I'm not sure what their relationship has been since then."
    We went down the hall to Wolverine's room and looked in.  It was
 surprisingly Japanese in spirit, down to the tatami mats and ornamental
 flower arrangements.  Not what I'd expected for Mr.  Logan's rough and
 tumble reputation.  Beer cans and flannel shirts and muddy boots, that was
 more like it.
    "I think the armor and most of the artwork is Mariko's," said
 Stevie.  "Those are original Hokusai prints -- I know because he asked me
 about the artist once.  They're quite valuable."
    "Better to wait for Mariko, then," I said.  "What about the
 others?"
    "There is no need for hurry," said Magneto behind us.  "Neither
 Storm nor Longshot -- that we know -- has close relatives to claim their
 possessions.  Their wills leave nearly everything to the school.  We can
 take our time in disposing of their effects."
    "Are you just going to ...  get rid of it all?" I said.  "I mean --
 what if...."
    "They are not truly deceased?" He nodded.  "We do not know for
 sure, of course.  Many -- myself included -- have thought them dead before
 this.  So there is the tendency to hope."
    "I know I do," Stevie said, softly, looking at her shoes.
    "I am sure, in our hearts, we all do," Magneto said.  "Yet, we
 cannot allow ourselves to be weakened by that hope.  We must plan on their
 absence, live our lives, bravely, as they would have us do." He touched
 Stevie's shoulder lightly, and she looked up at him with a sad, sweet
 smile.  "We will retain their personal possessions for several years, in
 storage.  For all we know, some relatives may appear."
    He turned to us.  "Thank you for your help, Jessica, Mist.  You
 have eased the burden greatly for some people.  Stevie, if you would
 accompany me downstairs, we must plan more for this afternoon's memorial
 service." He nodded to me.  "Jessica, there are some urgent matters we must
 discuss.  If you would be so kind as to stop in my office in half an hour?"
    I nodded and he headed down the stairs, Stevie in tow.
    "Even _he_ holds onto hope," Mist said when he'd gone.  "I did not
 think Magneto was susceptible to sentiment."
    "He's as human as the rest of us," I said, and realized who I was
 speaking to: an Asgardian Valkyrie, who traced her descent directly back to
 Odin All-Father.
    Perhaps she didn't notice my embarrassment.  "I saw their death
 aura," she said.  "Even over the far-picture -- the television.  The X-Men
 experienced true death, or I have never seen it."
    "I'm sorry, then," I said.
    "Death is sad for those left behind," she said.  "Your culture
 fears it so -- when it is just a tran--  a transition."
    "Is there life after death, then?" I said to her.
    "No," she said.  "There is death after death, of course.  That's
 why it is not life, after all."  She thought.  "At least in Asgard.  I do
 not pretend to know how these things work in Midgard, with your strange god
 who preaches peace and approves of war."
    "I'm not the one to talk to," I said.  "If you have questions, you
 should take them to Sam, or Roberto, or Rahne."
    "Oh, I have," Mist said.  "It seems that none of you know
 anything."
    "That's why they call it faith," I said.  I was not in the mood for
 discussing comparative theology.  "I'm going to stack the boxes in the
 hall."
    She nodded and stood aside.  "I am sorry to see these heroes gone,"
 she said.  "The ...  death of such brave men and women is always sorry."
    "Too bad they can't come back from the dead," I said.  "That's the
 only thing to hope for, then."
    She looked at me.  "Do not scoff," Mist said.  "The dead _can_ come
 back.  Even your own religion admits to it."
    "Don't pin any hopes on it," I said.
    She patted my arm.  "I bear, I accept," she said.  "I do not weep
 for want of the moon."
    
    * * *
    
    I spent the rest of the half hour packing Longshot's room, for lack
 of something better to do.  If you can tell a man by his possessions, I
 have to say Longshot was one of the weirder people I've ever come across.
 This was a man who obviously couldn't walk down a beach without picking up
 a few shells, and couldn't visit a tourist attraction without bringing home
 a little plastic snow-ball, or a postcard, or whatever.  And that was just
 the junk I could identify.  There were two whole shelves devoted to nothing
 but debris, so far as I could tell.  What sort of person hangs onto shards
 of buildings and cars?
    I chalked it up to a mystery that wasn't likely to be solved, and
 headed down to Magneto's office.  I half-expected Stevie to still be there,
 but when I came to the open door, Magneto was standing by the window,
 looking out over the lawn.
    "You wanted to talk to me?" I said.  "Is it Dr. MacTaggert's theory
 about the cause of Noemi's death?"
    "She told you, then?" Magneto said.  "It is intriguing -- a cause I
 would never have suspected.  If it is _true_; obviously, we must wait for
 confirmation.  But that is not the reason I called you here."
    "Oh?" I said.
     "I understand this is an emotional day for all of us," Magneto
 said, closing his office door.  He indicated the chair opposite his desk as
 he walked past me, a minor flare of his power shutting the other door to
 the school library.  "I do not want to postpone this interview any further;
 the longer we wait, the more painful it is apt to be."  
    He sat in his chair, his dark blue suit perfectly fitted, his
 too-white hair swept back, an old hairstyle on a young man.  Physically he
 was young, something that could still startle me after nearly a month.
 "You _could_ sit," he said.  "Or continue to stand if you must.  This
 conversation we _must_ have, Jessica, even if you would rather not." 
    I sat.  "What if we just said we did," I said. 
    He raised an eyebrow.  "Would you like me to tell you what your
 decision will be, then?" 
    "No!" I said and subsided.  "I -- just --" 
    "Have trouble dealing with our relationship," he finished for me.
 "Even after our involuntary entanglement yesterday?" 
    I remembered the extreme closeness, his genuine feeling for me.
 "It confused me more than ever," I said. 
    He nodded.  "I found it distressing as well," he said.  _You mean
 you felt like you were being raped_, I thought.  "Yet, I cannot say the
 experience was without benefit, for it allowed me to know you better."  He
 was silent, looking at his hands.  Maybe he was hoping I'd speak up and
 interrupt him.  "I can understand your emotional investment in casting me
 as a villain." 
    I ran that one around in my mind.  "What do you mean?" I said.  
    He sighed.  "First, there is my notoriety, the necessity of
 concealing your connection to me," he said.  "Thus, a life lived in hiding.
 I suppose if one really wanted, it would be possible to blame your mother
 for _that_ choice.  But you cannot choose to do so." 
    He looked at me to see if he'd gotten a rise out of me.  I was
 numb. 
    "Then there is your mother's ... illness," he said.  "She refused
 to be moved to a bigger hospital, to publicize her case so a famous
 researcher such as Reed Richards could take an interest." 
    "You're trying to blame her for everything, aren't you?" I said. 
    "No, not at all," Magneto said.  "She made these decisions, and I
 cannot say I would have done differently in her place.  Still, I want to
 point out that you not merely excuse her of guilt in making these
 decisions, but you shift all that guilt over to me -- and then you add your
 considerable rage at the unpleasantness you have undergone in your life.
 No wonder you can barely stand to be in the same room with me." 
    "I know," I said, my eyes closed.  "I -- " 
    "That is why I can see the importance of picturing me as a villain,
 instead of your father.  Which I am to you as well." 
    I hung my head and felt a tear trickle down my face.  "You didn't
 come to save us," I said. 
    "As you always thought I would," he said.  He came around and put
 his hand on my shoulder.  "Do you believe me now when I say I never knew of
 your existence?" 
    I nodded.   Yes, I knew it; I'd seen into his mind yesterday.
    "She told you I knew, so you would have the comfort of knowing I
 cared," he said.  "A secret father, a romanticized and perfect father.  So
 different than the mortal clay who stands before you now.  To grow up, to
 learn how different the real father was -- yes, I can understand your rage
 at your betrayal." 
    "Don't try to shift the guilt," I said. 
    "I'm not," he said.  "You are.  Accept your mother's faults and
 faulty decisions.  Or forgive me mine." 
    He walked away, circumnavigating the desk. 
    "I'm sorry," I said.  "I want to forgive you..." I trailed off. 
    "But?" he said gently. 
    "There's just so much ... hurt," I said.   My mind could accept
 what it heard, but my heart wasn't keeping up.  It had been so easy to go
 with the heart; to strike back without thinking.   I sighed; I'd been very
 unfair to him early on in our acquaintance.
    I looked up at him.  "I lied when I said Noemi cursed your name
 before she died.  She never did -- she believed in you right up to the end.
 Always making excuses."  I stopped for breath.  "I just made that up to
 hurt you." 
    He nodded slowly.  "Even so, I would not have blamed her," he said.
 "Many put their faith in me and were badly served by it.  Some choices I
 would not have made differently, though had I known of the outcome...."  He
 sighed.  "I admit to my culpability and I try to make amends." 
    "Oh stop it," I said.  "This 'lowest of the low' act.  If you get
 any lower, you'd be on your hands and knees." 
    "So I would," he said.  "Yet if I thought it would bring a
 reconciliation between the two of us..."  He smiled slightly despite the
 gravity of the situation "...I'd _consider_ it." 
    I looked at him for a long moment for that.  "Just what do you want
 from me, anyway?"  I said. 
    "What I desire, or what I will settle for?" he said softly. 
    "Yes," I said. 
    "I want to be a father to you," he said.  "And for you to be a
 child for me -- a grown child; you've passed, for the most part, the need
 for protection.  To offer you a place to come home to, and to have you
 accept that offer.  To be involved in your life and your happiness." 
    "In short," I said crossing my arms over my chest, "You want me to
 love you." 
    He didn't look at me, just down at his desk.  "You asked what I
 desired, not what I thought possible." 
    "I don't know -- " I said, not thinking out my words.  "I'm sorry
 -- I just ... don't know." 
    "Even so," he said.  "To look upon you for the first time ... you
 have your grandmother's face.  I had never thought I resembled my family,
 yet when I saw you, I saw my mother's face, gone these fifty years. And I
 knew you must be my daughter, however that could have happened." 
    "Oh," I said.  "I wondered about your reaction.  I thought it meant
 you knew about me." 
    "It was unfortunate to give such an impression," said Magneto.  "As
 if our relationship were not destined to be ambivalent enough." 
    My fault more than his, there.  "You told me what you want," I
 said. "What are you willing to settle for?" 
    He looked off into the middle distance.  "Your happiness and your
 safety," he said at last.  "Stay here with your friends until your legal
 majority arrives -- the real one, eight months hence." 
    "Oh," I said and he looked at me as though he were worried he'd
 offended.  "I'd nearly forgotten about my real birthday," I added. "Noemi
 'adjusted' it when we came to America and I've been celebrating January
 15th every since." 
    "_Really_, Jessica," he said.  "I hardly needed to see your true
 birth certificate to place your birth date within an exceedingly small
 window." 
    "I ... guess you would be able to," I said.  What Noemi told me
 about my conception being the result of a brief _affaire_ must have been
 true. 
    "I do not regret it," he said.  "Not at all.  Rather startling, to
 have you so suddenly here, to be so suddenly saddled with the
 responsibilities of a parent... in addition to the duties _in loco
 parentis_ I already bear as a headmaster." 
    "Eight months," I said, calculating.  "I'd be able to go off to
 college next September?" 
    "With considerable college credit already earned," he said.  "Amara
 will join Danielle and Sam in external college courses next semester; you
 should consider doing so as well." 
    "That's... an interesting idea," I said.  "I was hoping to get by
 on scholarship money, so every course I can take through this school..." 
    "Ah, money," said Magneto.  "I was almost forgetting...."  He took
 a thick file out of his desk drawer and pushed it across the desk to me.
 "I have taken the liberty of arranging your financial security." 
    I opened the file:  legal papers, pages full of figures and account
 numbers, brokerage statements and other junk.  I stared at it. 
    "Your mother created a number of investments for me," he said.
 "And they prospered.  I thought it fitting to take those made with...
 legally earned proceeds and transfer their ownership to you.  Consider it
 an inheritance from your mother.  And of course, you will become one of my
 heirs, along with Wanda and Pietro." 
    I closed the folder.  "Okay, what's the catch?" I said. 
    He shrugged.  "Did I say anything of conditions?  The bulk of the
 funds are held in trust until your fictive majority ten weeks hence.
 However, the papers are signed; the money is irrevocably yours." 
    "I don't know what to say," I said. 
    "'Thank you'?" he said.  "Though my purpose is not to purchase your
 favor.  Money confers a great deal of power and safety.  Were the school to
 dissolve tomorrow, or one of my many enemies exact a final revenge upon me,
 you would still have the financial wherewithal to protect yourself." 
    "You're really not doing this to buy me off?" I said. 
    "If I were out to tie you to me," he said leaning forward across
 the desk, "I'd hardly give you the means to be independent." 
    "But you still want me to have a personal relationship with you," I
 said. 
    "I have frequently desired what I have little hope of attaining,"
 he said. "Your classmates would say I have 'gotten used to it.'" 
    "I'm sorry -- I," I said.  "I can't promise how I'll feel in the
 future.  I don't -- hate you the way I used to." 
    "A month is a short time to establish a relationship." said
 Magneto.  "We are hardly coming to this with equal feeling.  You've known
 of me for years; I've only known you for a month.  I don't expect you to
 look to me with any great fond feeling.  How could you?  After all, I am
 still a stranger?" 
    _Stranger than you know_, I thought.  "Could we have another
 month's trial basis?" I said. 
    "Another month?" he said.  "Another month to determine if you'll
 remain at the School?  And the month after that?" 
    I shrugged.  "I'll decide then," I said. 
    "Your prerogative," he said.  "As a teacher I should comment that
 uncertainty in your future tenure here makes long range lesson plans
 difficult." 
    "Life," I said, "sometimes makes long range plans difficult,
 period.  That doesn't mean you shouldn't make them." 
    "I shall plan on your continued presence at the school, then?" he
 said.  The corners of his mouth kept trying to turn up and his eyes had
 those little wrinkles around them. 
    "Well, yeah," I said, and got up, too nervous to sit.  It felt like
 a great weight had been taken away, and I was amazed to realize how pleased
 I was to know he was happy about it.  It felt weird. 
    "Don't forget your records," he said, indicating the folder.  I
 lifted it across the room.  "You'll want to meet with a financial advisor
 next week, to discuss your investments in detail, determine what sort of
 allowance you care to draw."  
    I couldn't stay in the room any longer.  "We'll talk about it
 later, okay?" I said.  "I don't even know any financial advisors." 
    "You could use one of mine," he said.  "I can recommend their
 honesty and industry." 
    "Sure," I said.  I pulled the door open.  "I'm glad you're -- I'm
 glad I'm staying."  I left the room before he had a chance to reply,
 shutting the door after me.  I leaned against the wall, realizing my knees
 were trembling. 
    The hallway was no place to stage a nervous breakdown; visitors
 would be wandering around the house any time now.  I went up to my room,
 put the folder down on my desk, switched on the terminal and played
 'Tetris' until I thought of falling blocks and nothing else. 
    
    * * * 
    
    "You busy?" Doug said from the door of my room. 
    I'd only been killing time anyway.  "Not really," I said. "What's
 up?"
     "Do you think I could have a heart attack at my age?" he said. 
    I looked at him.  "What's _really_ up?" 
    He flopped on my bed, boneless.  "My folks are coming to visit," he
 said. 
    "So?" I said.  "When?" 
    "In half an hour." 
    I didn't have to think about that for long.  "Oh, _crud_," I said.
 "And with all the weird-costume people hanging around today." 
    "Yup."  Doug put his hands over his eyes.  "They just called to say
 they were coming fifteen minutes ago, and I said 'Fine, come on down.'" 
    "What, did you lose your mind or forget what was going on here
 today?" 
    "No," he said in a groan.  "I thought, 'Fine, about time they
 learned what's going on here, I've meant to tell them anyway.'  And now I
 can't reach them to tell them to turn back.  They're probably down at the
 Salem Center Bakery right now, buying cookies for my classmates." 
    "You could meet them at the gate and tell them the school had ...
 blown up or something.  Closed for repairs.  On holiday." 
    "Oh, thanks," he grumbled. 
    "Did you tell Magneto?" I said. 
    "He sighed and told me to show them in to him right away.  Then he
 made a crack about my sense of timing."
     "You've got to admit, the only worse time could have been last
 night or actually during the Massacre," I said. 
    "Jess," he said, sitting up, "... don't joke about that... I just
 lost some friends, okay?" 
    "I'm sorry," I said, contrite.  "I wasn't thinking." 
    "S'okay," Doug said.  "I shouldn't forget you never met any of
 them, either." 
    "I feel cheated," I said.  "It seems so... abstract." 
    "It seems unreal to me, too."  Doug said.  "Between you and me -- I
 don't fully believe they're dead." 
    "That Forge guy seemed pretty certain." I said. 
    "Yeah, and by his own admission, he thought the Adversary was his
 old friend," Doug said.  "But aside from that -- well, the world would just
 seem different if they were really dead.  Call it a gut feeling, call it
 intuition -- I'd know it if they were really dead." 
    I shrugged.  "I suppose it's possible," I said. 
    "You're thinking 'He's in the denial stage,' aren't you?" he said. 
    "I don't know what to think," I said.  "You're the one with the
 direct line to the universal unconscious, aren't you?" 
    "I'm not going to try to sell the others on my idea," he said.  "If
 I'm wrong, I'll have just helped people to cling to false hope, instead of
 getting over the mourning.  We've got to go ahead -- _I've_ got to go ahead
 -- as if they're never coming back. 
    "I guess that's wise," I said.  "One thing that bothers me though
 -- if they aren't dead, why haven't they at least called home?" 
    "At one point, they had a plan to let the world think they were
 dead," Doug said.  "Maybe they don't want us to be able to tell anything to
 anybody." 
    "Creepy," I said.  "They can't even trust their family and
 friends." 
    "It's not so much a question of trust," Doug said.  "We've come up
 against enemies with telepathy, enemies with other means of extracting
 information from the unwilling.  Basically, it's a question of not being
 _able_ to spill what we don't _know_." 
    "I must be the safest of all, then."  I said, "for I don't know
 _anything_."
    "Sucks, though," Doug said.  "Not knowing for sure.  Maybe I _am_
 clinging to false hope."  
    I stared at my kitten poster, the one with the motto: "Hang in
 there baby."  At last I said, "I really don't know which way to encourage
 you to believe."
    "I choose optimism," said Doug.  I turned to see he was looking at
 the poster too.  "If nothing else, you get fewer ulcers."
    "Speaking of which," I said, eager to change the subject, "What do
 you intend to do if your parents really freak and take you out of school?" 
    "Give them a choice, either they leave me in school here or if they
 don't go along with it, they'll have to wonder every day of the next six
 months till my 18th birthday where I am, and if I'm alive," he said, arms
 crossed. "That's _assuming_  they freak badly.  They can't have missed all
 the stuff going on around this school -- I think they haven't wanted to
 know." 
    "That's pretty cold -- to threaten your folks with running away," I
 said.
    "It's no game," he said.  "Never was.  People -- our friends -- are
 dying, and I'm not going to sneak out on a technicality, like having a
 'quiet power'." He smiled.  "It's gotten a lot more useful, from where I
 sit, and I intend to make the most of it for me and my friends." 
    "You're sounding radicalized," I said. 
    "Prof X always said we were free to decide what we wanted to do
 with our powers when we graduated," he said.  "I don't think he ever saw me
 using my talent for superheroing.  Imagine how surprised he'll be if he
 comes back from outer space and found out the things I'll be doing." 
    I leaned forward in my chair.  "Which are?" 
    "Making the world a better place for everyone, mutants and humans,"
 he said.  "All right, so it's fuzzy and touchy-feely.  But with my special
 talents, I should be able to synthesize a plan that I can follow, and get
 others to follow with me." 
    "Today, Salem Center," I said, and he laughed. 
    "Not out to take over the world," he said.  "Just to see it run a
 bit better.  My first project is going to be a public relations campaign
 for mutants." 
    "The moral mirror-reflection of X-Factor?" I said. 
    He grinned.  "Oh, I'll be much more efficient than them." 
    I rolled my eyes.  "Does that PR stuff really work?" 
    "Some of it does -- just ask the Republicans," he said.  "The way I
 do PR, it _will_ work.  Guaranteed.  It'll take some hard work -- and a lot
 of money, which I'll have to take the time to make first, unless I can
 sweet-talk Magneto into bankrolling me." 
    "I just got some money," I said.  "Probably more than I know what
 to do with.  I may not be able to offer much, but maybe I could start you
 off with a little seed money."  I pushed Magneto's thick folder at him. 
    Doug opened it and leafed through it, glancing up several times at
 me. "What is it?" I said at last, exasperated.
     "Either you're cooler than I thought -- 'Some money,'" he imitated
 me, "or you have no idea what this is worth." 
    "Well -- I thought, I really didn't count it -- maybe a million?" I
 said.  My face felt flushed; I was embarrassed to be possibly rich.  "I
 don't know how you figure out ownership of stuff like this." 
    "Ah," Doug said.  "This is only a guess, and I'd have to check the
 current prices of the stocks ... but I'd give you a back of an envelope
 calculation of," he took a breath, "forty-eight million." 
    I stared at him.  "Dollars?" I said.  "Are you sure about that?"
    He shrugged, just one twitch of his shoulders.  "I was being
 conservative," he said.  "That's the worth if you liquidate, _today_..
 They'll be worth more if you let them mature.  It's a pretty fair
 portfolio; I'd hang on to it if I were you." 
    "This is... unreal," I said.  "I mean, I thought Magneto was rich,
 but..." 
    "He's so powerful that money is almost meaningless to him -- but
 yeah, he's that rich," Doug said gently.  "I guess I should give you
 congratulations or something."  He paused.  "I suppose this means you'll be
 leaving soon?" he said. 
    "Oh no, I'm -- staying.  Probably until September," I said. 
    "All right!" he said.  I was unprepared when he jumped off the bed,
 came around and gave me a big hug.  "I'm glad you're staying!" 
    "I guess I am, too," I said. 
    "If I can, I'll definitely stick around, too," Doug said.  "Hey-- I
 could even play financial advisor for you.  I don't think Maggie will mind
 if I use the school as my base -- I think I'll sell my PR operation to him
 as a kind of thesis project." 
    "Using real money and real people," I said. 
    "Finest kind of applied theory," Doug smiled. 
    
    * * *
    
     We chattered on about Doug's plan for a while, and what I could do
 to help.  We settled on my giving him some seed money when I had control of
 my funds in two month's time.  Then we talked about my future plans.  I'd
 thought about applying to MIT or Cornell as a scholarship student, and if
 that didn't come through, the state universities in Ohio, so I could work
 my way through.  Doug suggested Columbia University instead, or Yale.  "I
 don't know," I said, "Too close to all the superheroes." 
    Doug shook his head.  "Jess, you're going to be close to
 superheroes wherever you go, by virtue of who you are.  This way, at least,
 we'll get to see you once in a while." 
    "I'll think about it," I said.  "I'm going to have to decide on
 what colleges to apply to pretty soon." 
    "Too bad Professor Xavier's off in space," said Doug.  "He could
 have used his connections to get you into whatever school you wanted, no
 questions asked." 
    "We'll have to compete with everybody else," I said.  "On an equal
 footing, for a change." 
    He nodded, and would have said more but for a knock at the open
 door. Illyana stood there, looking more serious than she usually did.
 "There's someone here who wants to see you," she said to Doug. 
    In strolled the biggest, blondest man I've ever seen.  "Lad, it's
 been too long," said the stranger.  He was dressed in a tweedy suit that
 fairly shouted England, his accent upper class and cultured. 
    "Brian!" said Doug, jumping up and holding out his hand.  I
 realized belatedly that this must be "Captain Britain", the late Betsy
 Braddock's brother.  He and Doug had rescued both the New Mutants and the
 X-Men once. 
    Illyana and an unfamiliar woman followed him in.  The woman
 reminded me of an elf, for some reason -- I suppose it was the pointed ears
 -- but she was far too voluptuous for an elf.  Well filled out, in other
 words, and her one piece jumpsuit left little to the imagination.  She was
 barefoot, and I wondered if she'd gone through customs that way. 
    I got up from my chair as Captain Britain gave Doug a manly hug,
 the kind that English public schoolmates give their chums.  To judge from
 Doug's expression, the hug barely missed cracking ribs. 
    When he'd disengaged from Doug he turned to me.  "You have the
 advantage of me, I fear," he said, manners impeccable, hand extended. This
 close I could see his eyes were puffy and slightly red, as if from crying. 
    Doug introduced me to his friend.  Meanwhile the lush blonde came
 and stood adoringly close to the Captain.  "Will you be staying for the
 service?" I said.
    "I'm playing shuttle," Illyana said.  "Why don't you get Brian and
 Meggan tucked away in the living room while I get the next lot?" She
 vanished in a circle of light before I had a chance to reply. 
    I stood staring at the bright spot.  Illyana must feel a little
 put-upon, called to duty to get nearly everyone here. 
    "I'm Meggan," said Captain Britain's blonde companion.  "You're
 Douglas, aren't you -- Bri' has told me so much about you."  She turned
 gracefully to me.  "You look the spitting image of Magneto.  By any chance
 are you related?"  She might as well have been asking me how the weather
 was in Westchester, or the time of day. 
    I blinked.  "Oh, I'm his illegitimate daughter," I said at last.
 For all I had dreaded the day I would admit the relationship, I hadn't
 anticipated it going quite like this. 
    "Oh how fab-ulous," Meggan said, rising up on her toes.  "_I_ was
 fostered by traveling folk."  In any one else's mouth it would have rung
 with sarcasm; from her it sounded like indisputable truth. 
    I snuck a look at Doug and the Captain; my erstwhile teammate was
 attempting to keep a poker face and staid Brian looked appalled. 
    There was nothing to do but smile and go with the flow.  "My mother
 was called Firefall," I told Meggan, leading the way downstairs.  "She was
 in the original Brotherhood of Evil Mutants..." 
    
    * * *
    
    We had got down to the foyer when the door bell rang.  "Oh no,"
 said Doug, stricken. 
    He was expecting his parents to show up; I'd been distracted by
 events.  "Do you want me to get it?" I said. 
    "I -- ah," Doug said. 
    "Show Brian and Meggan to the living room and get a grip," I said.
 "I'll stall them, okay?"
     As I went to the door I could hear Doug giving the Captain a quick
 precis as he led them off.  I counted to ten to provide some lead time and
 swung open the door. 
    I'd been so prepared to say, "Hello, you must be Doug's parents,"
 that I got as far as the "be" before my mouth caught up with my brain.
 Standing on the doorstep in civilian clothes were Scott and Jean, and
 several kids I had never seen before. 
    "Jessica," Scott put his hand out after his own moment of
 hesitation, though his grip was warm and sure.  "I realize we weren't
 properly introduced yesterday..." 
    Yesterday he'd been a purposeful stranger in the midst of battles. 
 While his funny-lensed glasses got in the way, in civvies there was a
 certain amount of charm and intelligence.  
    "I'm glad to see you two and, uh, your friends," I said.  "Come in
 -- does anyone know you're coming?" 
    "We phoned," Jean said.  "We have some matters to discuss with
 Magneto -- and you and I promised to talk.  Also, our _friends_ wanted to
 see the mansion." 
    "Well, come in," I said.  Four kids -- teenagers all -- trooped in
 after Scott and Jean.  I estimated they ranged in age from fifteen to
 nineteen.  "Hi, I'm Jessica Pierce," I said, vaguely sticking my hand
 toward the oldest, a reddish-haired young man. 
    "I'm Rusty Collins," he grinned, pumping my hand.  "The papers were
 calling us the X-Terminators," he added.  "This is Skids," he indicated a
 blonde young woman in a beret, "Rictor," a Hispanic-looking youth, "and,
 uh, Boom-Boom."  The last girl was dressed in a tasteless conglomeration of
 the latest mall fashions, her hair teased and moussed to frizziness, with a
 headband colored in a shade not found in nature, and black Ray-bans to top
 it off. 
    This unnatural wonder took up the rear of the procession.  She
 struck a pose in the doorway and said, "Stately Wayne Mansion or what?" 
    I couldn't let that pass.  "Isn't he a punk rocker in San
 Francisco?" I said with just the right inflection of ennui. 
    The girl introduced as Skids laughed.  "This _is_ wild," she said. 
 "Next you'll be showing us down to the Batcave." 
    I couldn't resist smiling; _her_ enthusiasm seemed genuine.  "Oh,
 better than that," I said, "Hasn't Scott told you about all the stuff we
 have here?" 
    "Thought it was just his way of getting us to come out here," I
 heard Boom Boom whisper to Rictor.  I noticed Jean giving Scott a look. 
    "We have to send the kids to be educated somewhere," said Jean to
 me.  "We hadn't thought of the School -- but if conditions are as good as
 you've given us reason to believe....  Well, we thought we'd come out to
 see for ourselves -- and let the kids see, as well." 
    "I don't need no private school," said Boom-Boom. 
    "Excuse me," said someone behind her.  A sandy-haired bearded man
 stood in the doorway, along with a woman who vaguely resembled Doug.  "It
 seems you're busy at the moment?" 
    "You must be Mr. Ramsey," I said.  To Scott and the rest I said,
 "They're Doug's parents -- one of the students at the school."  I turned
 back to the parental units. "And Mrs. Ramsey?" 
    The woman held out some pastry boxes.  "I brought a few goodies for
 Doug's classmates.  Are you one of the teachers?"   
    "Oh, no," I said.  "I'm Jessica -- I've only been here a month." 
    "Doug's spoken about her, dear," said Mr. Ramsey.   
    "Here he comes now," I said.  Doug was in the act of freezing in
 the mouth of the hallway. 
    "Ah, hi," he said, staring at his parents.  Then he stared at Jean,
 then looked back to his parents.  "We're having a very busy day," he said
 awkwardly.
     I tried to think quickly; how to cue Jean and the rest that Doug's
 parents didn't know about the true nature of the school and all.  "I'll let
 Ma-- Headmaster Xavier -- know you're here.  He'll want to greet you." 
    "That would be fine," Doug said.  He still looked like he might run
 screaming at any minute. 
    "We've missed you so," said Mrs. Ramsey to him, in the act of
 handing over his packages.  I turned to go over and knock on Magneto's door
 when Illyana warped into the remaining free space in the foyer directly in
 front of me, with four people: Kitty Pryde, Kurt Wagner, Peter Rasputin and
 Sean Cassidy.  I hadn't met them before, but I knew exactly what they
 looked like from the X-Men's records. 
    I opened my mouth and closed it, and turned back to see if the
 Ramseys had noticed.  Mrs. Ramsey's back had been partially turned, as she
 handed the cookies to Doug.  Mr. Ramsey looked startled, as I watched he
 rubbed his eyes and then stared at the newcomers. 
    "Madelynne?" Kitty Pryde said, staring at Jean. 
    "Jean!" Kurt said.  Although I'd seen photographs, they hadn't done
 him justice, he was covered in close-cropped blue-black fuzz, like hair on
 a cat's nose. 
    Beside him, Peter said "_Bozhe moi_" and stared.  Banshee nearly
 dropped his pipe. 
    I looked back at the rest.  Mr. Ramsey was still in shock; now Mrs.
 Ramsey was staring at Nightcrawler, not that I blamed her, I'd be doing it
 myself if time permitted.  The "X-Terminators" looked interested in the
 goings on.  Doug looked one hair away from fainting, clutching the cookies
 as if his life depended on them. 
    Moira MacTaggert came into the foyer out of the entrance that led
 to the kitchen.  She was trailed by Rahne and Roberto, all wearing aprons. 
 "Are ye daft, Sean?" she said to Banshee.  "I left th' patients in yuir
 care, and the first thing ye do is to take them traveling!" 
    "I don't need no stinking school; not when it's full of weird
 goofballs," I heard Boom-Boom say.
    "And now Ah'll show you the rest of the place," Sam said, coming
 down the stairs with a woman who looked amazingly like the rock star Lila
 Cheney. 
    "Kurt!" Jean said, breaking the spell.  "Peter -- and Sean --" 
    "You're alive!" Kurt said.  "We thought you -- died?"  His eyes
 were yellow all over with tiny black pupils.  It gave them a very comical
 expression when he looked amazed. 
    "What do you mean, 'Jean'?" Kitty said.  "That's Madelynne, isn't
 it?" 
    Jean frowned.  "I've never met you," she said to Kitty. 
    "Mom, Dad," Doug said.  "There's something I should tell you --" 
    The rest was lost in the general hubbub.  Suddenly it seemed like
 everyone was talking; the remaining X-Men and Scott arguing over who Jean
 was; the X-Factor kids trying to subdue Boom-Boom; Doug being incoherent to
 his parents, whom, I judged, weren't hearing a word as they stared at Kurt.
 As sometimes happens with this sort of commotion; everyone shut up to take
 a breath, and in that second, as if he'd been waiting for it, Magneto, who
 had quietly come out of his office, spoke up. 
    "Is there a problem?" 
    Jean started to open her mouth and I beat her to it.  "Mr. and Mrs.
 Ramsey _have arrived_," I said meaningfully.  "And I think they should see
 you _first_."
    "Ah," Magneto said, looking about the room.  "Scott, Jean, I'll
 meet with you later.  Samuel, would you see to the comfort of our guests?
 Scott and Jean and their youngsters may have particular questions about the
 school.  Kitty, Kurt, Peter: it is gratifying to see you up and about;
 we'll talk later." 
    He had to practically drag Doug back into his office, herding the
 elder Ramseys with them.  He stopped at the door, looking back at the mob,
 which had started arguing again.  Dani, Mist, Amara, and Warlock were
 coming down the stairs.  Without another word, he turned and closed the
 door. 
    "Scott, good to see you," Sam said, extending his hand.  His lady
 friend leaned against the wall and smiled absently.  I wondered if the New
 Mutants _had_ been speaking the truth when they told me about Sam's girl
 friend:  she did look an awful lot like Lila Cheney. 
    Meanwhile, Moira was still giving Sean and Kurt a piece of her
 mind. She in fact led Nightcrawler off by the arm -- with Peter and Kitty
 and Illyana following along -- to an immediate exam in the infirmary. 
    I edged over to Dani, who was watching Bobby and the others talk to
 Scott and Jean's kids.  "We should get people squared away," I said. 
    "Sorry I missed the excitement," she said.  "Hey -- Bobby, why
 don't you give the kids a guided tour?" 
    Roberto was in his element, more lively than he'd been since the
 bad news the night before.  "Rahne, would you assist me?" he said.  "We'll
 start with the upstairs," he said, leading the herd away. 
    That left Scott and Jean, and the rest of the New Mutants.  "There
 are so many of you," Jean said.  "Are you all students?" 
    "Not me," said Lila.  "Does anyone smell something burning?" 
    "The kitchen!" Mist said. 
    "Sam, you handle the visitors," Lila said.  "I'll go save the
 dinner." She set off at a run.
     Sam looked thoughtful.  "I don't know that she knows how to cook,"
 he said. 
    "Self will assist in preparation of foodstuffs," Warlock said,
 wheeling off.  He'd been giving us all a full array of sensors. Perhaps
 he'd been able to follow it all.  Perhaps I could get him to play it back
 to me someday so I could figure out exactly what had happened. 
    "Perhaps," Amara said, "someone more skilled in the culinary arts
 should help."  She looked at Scott and Jean.  "You'll want to talk with
 Dani and Sam.  Mist, Jessica, would you help me in the kitchen?" 
    "Sure," I said. 
    "Jess," Jean said.  "I'd appreciate it if you'd stay.  You're new
 here; you can help with our evaluation." 
    "If you don't mind?" I said to Amara. 
    "Of course not," she said.  "I'm sure Mist and I can save dinner on
 our own." 
    That left Scott, Jean, Dani, Sam and me.  We stood there for a
 foot-shuffling moment.  "Ah'm sorry to hear about your brother," Sam said
 to Scott.  "And Mrs. -- Miss Pryor, too."
     Scott was silent a moment.  "Fortunes of war," he said at last, his
 jaw firm.  If his eyes said otherwise, we'd never know. 
    "We never really got to know Alex," said Dani.  "I don't think he was
 out to the mansion more than once or twice while we've been here.  But
 _Madelynne_... we all liked her, Scott.  And were so sorry when you two
 broke up and then she disappeared." 
    I watched Jean as Dani spoke.  Yesterday she'd only just learned of
 Madelynne's existence and today she had to deal with Scott's loss.  If I
 felt confused, how must she feel? 
    Sam turned to her.  "As for you, Miss Grey," he said.  "Jess and the
 others filled us in last night on what happened.  I'm glad to make your
 acquaintance at last."  He held out a hand and Jean took it. 
    "I'm... glad to be seeing the school again, Sam," Jean said.  "You
 may as well call me Jean.  I'm not _that_ much older." 
    Dani held out a hand as well, and Jean shook with her as well.  "I
 hope we'll be seeing more of you in the future," Dani said.  "It seems
 you'll have a lot of catching up to do, then." 
    "That's what we wanted to talk about," said Scott.  "It's time to
 consider what to do next, now that..." his voice trailed off. 
    "Uh, yeah," said Sam.  "How 'bout we all go to the Library?  Can Ah
 get y'all anything?"
     Scott and Jean declined, but I went to the kitchen and got a pitcher
 of ice water and glasses anyway.  I noticed Lila attempting to peel a
 potato and Warlock enthusiastically imitating a blender, while Amara and
 Mist saw to more important tasks.  Dr. MacTaggert had already done the
 majority of the work, anyway.
    Scott and Jean, and Dani and Sam had settled on opposite sides of the
 big table, where we usually held our lessons.  Where Professor X might have
 even instructed Scott and Jean, once.  I sat to Dani's right and lifted the
 pitcher into the middle and efficiently filled the glasses by lifting the
 appropriate amount of water directly into them. 
    Sam looked at the glasses in bemusement and visibly collected
 himself. "What's goin' on with Doug and his folks, anyway?" he said. 
    I sighed.  "He took it into his head that he had to tell them about
 himself and the school -- _today_,"  I said. 
    Dani shook her head.  "That's why Magneto couldn't speak with you
 right away," I said to Scott and Jean.  "He promised to help Doug explain
 to his parents."  I wondered how it was going.  I bet it wasn't much fun. 
    "We understand," Jean said, looking to Scott. 
    Cyclops nodded.  "There's no reason we can't ask you the same
 questions we intended for Magneto.  In fact, I meant to ask you as well, to
 confirm what he told us." 
    Dani leaned forward in her chair.  "What do you want to know?" she
 said.  
    "Has Magneto really reformed?" said Jean.  Scott looked at her.
 "That's what all the questions boil down to, isn't it?" she said to him.
 "Let's ask the $64,000 question first." 
    "Ah can answer that question," said Sam.  "Yes." 
    His blunt answer hung in the air for a moment.  "Ah s'pose y'all want
 some qualifications on that," he added. "But since y'all asked a
 boiled-down question it was best to give you the same back.  And if you
 asked each of the New Mutants the question, Ah'm confident y'all get the
 same answer more or less."  He looked confident, but his eyes rested on me.
    "I've no doubt he's reformed," Dani said.  "Whatever 'reformed'
 means.  Renouncing violence as a way of battling anti-mutant oppression and
 adopting Professor X's way?  Devoting himself to the school and its
 students?  Avoiding battles when he can, and telling us -- trying to get us
 to do the same?"  She glanced at both Sam and me, seated to either side of
 her.  "Yesterday, we took off entirely without his permission.  We couldn't
 reach him, and friends of ours were in danger.  If he'd been here, he'd
 have made us stay and gone himself." 
    "As it is he only held back from giving us... heck," Sam said with a
 slight pause, "'cause of the loss of our friends." 
    There was a pause.  Scott was still; too still.  Sam looked like he
 just realized he'd accidentally kicked Scott in a tender spot.
    "If he's too strict--" Scott said at last. 
    "No, hold that thought," Sam said.  "He may come off on the
 high-handed side sometimes, but he's got solid reasons.  He ain't
 capricious, nor devious nor arbitrary in his rules.  Don't mean to sound
 like Ah was complaining." 
    "I didn't mean to jump to conclusions," Scott said stiffly. 
    Jean looked in my direction.  "Jess, you've been silent," she said.
 "You're new to the school.  What do you think -- _has_ he reformed?" 
    Talk about $64,000 questions.  "I never knew him from before, you
 realize," I said.  "And I came here with all kinds of preconceptions. 
    "It's tough for me to feel trust, where he's concerned," I said.
 "Yet... after being here a month, dealing with him, seeing him deal with
 the school, with the outside world -- when I contrast it to what he's done
 and said before..." I drew a deep breath, realized I was clenching my
 hands.  "He's not the man you fought before, Scott; there's been a profound
 change in attitude and approach.  Or he's the greatest actor since Edmund
 Kean _and_  adept at lying mind to mind." 
     Scott nodded.  I wished I had Doug's ability to read body language
 and tell if he were really agreeing or merely being polite.  With the visor
 covering all of his eyes it was hard to tell his real emotions.  I'd
 gathered that some people found him rather cool and wondered now if it
 wasn't because his ever-present glasses cut him off. 
    "What about the Hellfire Club?" Scott said.  "Why this alliance?"
    "That's right, you don't know," Sam said.  "When you left, we were
 still deadly enemies, weren't we?" 
    "A lot happened since then," added Dani.  "The X-Men were doubtful
 about the idea -- Magneto as well -- but they agreed because it neutralized
 a threat.  And we do have interests in common, like survival." 
    "But they --" Scott said and stopped.  I wondered what he might have
 finished that with "-- but they killed/subverted Jean?"  Jean, after all,
 was sitting next to him. 
    "I don't blame you for being leery," I said.  "There's a lot of bad
 history and feelings about the Hellfire Club -- and good reason for it.
 But Storm and Magneto made the decision, and it hasn't been a bad one so
 far."  I thought.  "You know, you could speak with Dr. MacTaggert.  She'd
 have a handle on the situation." 
    "And she's available today, too," said Sam.  "Say what y'all will
 about the Hellfire Club -- they're sneaky, they're out to rule the world --
 at least they're not out to _destroy_ the world, or kill all non-mutants or
 what have you.  Ah have to hold my nose at times, but Ah still sleep well
 -- a little better in fact, 'cause Ah know they're not actively out to get
 me." 
    "Scott," Jean said.  "You've met the Hellfire Club -- not me.  What
 do you think?" 
    "Charles Xavier would never have allied himself with them," Scott
 said.
    "Ah think you could have said the same about Magneto and Professor X
 a few years ago," Sam said.  "Gets to the point where you have to trust --
 or to kill -- your former enemies.  Back after we had a run-in with the
 Beyonder, the White Queen took us in for a month over at her Academy.  Did
 right by us -- or at least the best she knew how.  Doesn't matter so much
 if she did it for herself or for altruism, she dealt squarely." 
    "Didn't she have Manuel screwing with people's heads?" I said.  
    Dani shifted in her seat.  "Her story's been that Empath did that on
 his own.  She seemed mad enough at him.  I don't think that was fake." 
    Somebody must have told Jean about Manuel, or perhaps she had learned
 it from me.  "We know Emma Frost isn't above harboring a dangerous
 individual," she said.
    "What about Wolverine?" I said.  "I've never met the man, but he
 isn't the world's most stable individual, is he?" 
    Scott looked down at his hands.  I realized that we'd lost Wolverine,
 perhaps forever, just yesterday, and now it was my turn to kick myself.
 "Sorry," I said,  "It's just that I think we're all going to have to be a
 little more flexible."  _I am really thinking and saying this_, a tiny part
 of me noted in wonder.  "When I came here -- just under a month ago -- I
 hated Magneto for all he'd done to me, and I was _not_ going to pay
 attention to any evidence to the contrary.  Because I'd made up my mind
 that was how it was going to be." 
    "We're keeping that in mind, Jess," Jean said, nodding towards Scott.
 "That's part of why we agreed to come here today, because of what I
 experienced with you -- through you -- yesterday." 
    "I took a lot of convincing," I said. 
    Jean put her hand over mine, reaching across the table.  "Noemi would
 be proud, I think," she said. 
    There was a knock on the library door.  "Scott -- Jean," Moira
 MacTaggert said.  She'd shed her lab coat and wore a modest black dress.
 "We're to ha' the memorial service after lunch, so we must be moving."
    
    * * *
    
    The sliding doors between the dining and living room were pulled
 back. Even with all the leaves in place, the big table didn't have enough
 places for everyone.  Lunch -- warm dishes and sandwich fixings -- was laid
 out buffet-style so people could line up and help themselves.
    Magneto greeted Scott and Jean at the door, apologizing for being
 unable to spend time with them when they arrived.   
    They stood there talking while I silently slipped off and got into
 line, wondering if it would be rude to use my telekinesis to take my
 portions out of turn, and silence my growling stomach.  I hadn't eaten more
 than a bite of breakfast; but I hadn't noticed the lack until food was in
 front of me.  Typical.
    I glanced around; Doug was in the living room with his folks,
 Captain Britain and Peter Rasputin, now in his metallic form.  Doug had an
 expression like a man who's just had his death sentence commuted at the
 last minute; his parents looked glassy-eyed.  I wondered if I should go
 over and say something, but I decided to be cowardly until I got some food.
    "_Guten Tag, Fraulein_," Nightcrawler said.  He'd been in line ahead
 of me, deep in conversation with Illyana and Kitty Pryde.  "[I have not had
 the honor of your acquaintance,]" he said, taking my hand and bestowing a
 bow and a kiss upon it. 
    "[I have heard much about you,]" I said.  I couldn't keep a foolish
 grin off my face; there's something about a hand-kiss that makes me break
 out in giggles.  "[Your legend precedes you, good sir.]" 
    "[And I try to live up to it,]" he said.  "[You carry your pedigree
 upon your face, of course,]" he added.  "[I would have no need to ask of
 your familial connection, even if Doctor MacTaggert had not informed us of
 your relationship to the current Headmaster.]"
    "Kurt, speak English," Kitty broke in.  "Not everybody understands
 your funny lingo."
    I stared at her, annoyed by her rudeness.
    "You're Magneto's daughter, aren't you?" she said.
    I put my hands on my hips.  "Actually, we're both members of the same
 strange alien race, sent here to rule the Earth," I said in a
 matter-of-fact manner.
    Kitty stared at me.
    "Gee, and all this time we thought you were _mutants_," said Illyana
 with fake sincerity.
    Kurt rubbed his nose to keep from laughing.  "I vas completely
 bamboozled," he said.
    Kitty looked around the group.  "You're pulling my leg," she said,
 with just a trace of doubt.  I guess Dani hadn't been kidding when she said
 Kitty was "socially challenged."  Still, Doug and Illyana liked her --
 there had to be a reason.
    "Why ever would I have you on?" I said.  She was pretty short; I
 stared down at her and let my British accent creep into my voice.
    Kitty looked blankly at me for a moment as it penetrated and then she
 turned red with embarrassment.  "Just trying to be friendly," she
 half-mumbled, turning to the buffet table and hurriedly piling her plate
 with random goodies.  She was so nonplused that her hand went through
 things more often than not.  I remembered she was having trouble staying
 solid now; her mutant power had run out of control and almost killed her a
 few months back.
    I told myself she'd been a twit and royally deserved the putdown, but
 I couldn't help feeling a little bit bad.  I was just about to say
 something when Moira MacTaggert came up to me.  "There ye be," she said.
 "I have to talk wi' you in private."
    "Two seconds," I said, using my power to scoop up a slice of quiche,
 a portion of tabouleh and some strawberries onto a paper plate.  I felt
 Kitty and Kurt's eyes on me as I lifted the plate to my hand.  "Where do
 you want to talk?" I said to the doctor.
    "The kitchen would be far enough," she said.
    Without more ado, I followed her.  Sharon passed us as we entered,
 her arms full of additional plates and silverware.  We were alone.
    "I want to let you know what I've learned in yuir mother's case," Dr.
 MacTaggert said without preamble.  "Yuir no doubt anxious to hear of the
 results of the tests."
    Had it been only yesterday she had come to me to tell me of her
 suspicion that Post-Polio Syndrome had been my mother's real killer?  So
 much had happened.
    "Now that I've had time to think about it, I have to say it makes
 more sense than I was willing to admit," I said.  "Or maybe I'm willing to
 think differently about the whole thing.  What have you learned?  It must
 be too soon to have much in the way of results."
    She nodded, sitting on one of the stools that stood next to the big
 preparation counter.  "I called in some favors and asked to start the
 necessary tests immediately.  In the meantime, one of the residents was
 kind enough to examine some of the nerve tissue samples taken at the
 autopsy."
    "And?" I said.
    "He found damage indicative of polio," she said.
    I closed my eyes and bowed my head.  "That's it then, isn't it?" I
 said.  I felt curiously light.  "Post-Polio."
    "'Tis na' conclusive," Dr. MacTaggert said.  "I'd wait for the
 cultures to come back before announcing my diagnosis; they should show the
 presence of polio antibodies.  Howsomeever, I'd say the certainty of cause
 is at least 70% now, with the last piece of the puzzle to fall any time
 now."
    I "pulled" over a chair and sat down without a word.  "Lassie," she
 said compassionately.  "I'm sorry that this comes at a bad time; you've got
 much on your mind now."
    "We all do," I said.  "So much can happen in a month.  It would have
 been _hard_ anytime, to learn I'd made this _big_, this _wrong_, an
 assumption."
    "On th' other hand, you shouldna' kick yuirself over it," Dr.
 MacTaggert got up and paced.  "Professionals with years of experience
 missed this."  She smoothed her skirt and looked back at me.  "I was
 talking wi' yuir classmates, and I heard them saying you hadn't made up
 yuir mind whether to stay or to leave, that you didna' know of a place to
 go.  If you'd like, if you still can't stay, perhaps you'd like to come to
 Muir Island?"
    "Why -- I --" I said, looking up at her.
    Maybe she took my surprise as shyness or uncertainty.  "You could
 finish the coursework for your high school diploma," she said.  "Though the
 classes are not as fancy as here, you could join Kitty in her studies.
 You'd have plenty of opportunity to learn about medicine, though it
 couldna' count towards yuir degree, of course."
    "I never thought going to Muir Island was a possibility," I said.
 "Interpol wants to question me -- Europa Majewski."
    "More than half the residents of Muir Island aren't 'official,'"
 Moira said.  "The authorities wouldna' have to know you were there at all."
    "If you'd asked me just a week ago," I said, "it would have been the
 answer to my prayers, even though it would have pained me to leave my
 friends.  So much has happened since then--" I broke off and took a deep
 breath.  "I've decided to stay here until I go to college.  I'm sorry to
 turn down your offer, but--"
    "Don't go apologizin', lass," Dr. MacTaggert said.  She was smiling.
 "I'm glad you've decided to stay.  Even a day and half have shown me how
 much you'd be missed.  An' you can be taking college courses to count
 towards yuir future degree."
    "You're not offended?" I said. "That's a generous offer you were
 making."
    "And glad I was to be making it," she said.  "Yuir always welcome to
 visit or to stay.  But I think yuir better off here, to deal wi' things as
 they are."
    "I've spent a lot of time running away," I said.
    "Och, and I've done the same, I have," Dr. MacTaggert said.  "Didna'
 help matters any.  If you can learn this at yuir age, you'll have one up on
 me."
    
    * * *
    
    Back at the gathering, I observed several more groups had arrived.
 Dani and Mist were introducing a couple who had to be the elder Moonstars
 to Doug's parents.  I wondered why Illyana had brought _them_.  Magneto and
 Nightcrawler stood talking to a stout man dressed in a clerical collar.  I
 remembered Bobby saying something about his confessor coming to speak at
 the memorial service.  
    I'd been holding my plate during the entire interview with the
 doctor.  Now I took the opportunity to chow down.  Just as I was
 swallowing, another group came through the door, and I was lucky not to
 choke.  Tom was leading three people: Mystique, the leader of Freedom
 Force; an older woman with a white cane; and the Indian who'd cast the
 spell that took the X-Men's lives -- Forge!
    A hush fell over the room, a few people missing the action and
 chattering on until they realized Something Was Happening.  Magneto broke
 the spell by striding forward, extending his hand to Mystique and the rest.
 Evidently, then, they weren't unexpected guests.
    I spotted Stevie standing off to the side.  "Is this a surprise or
 what," I said in a soft voice.
    "Not entirely," she whispered back.  "Rogue considered Mystique her
 foster mother, so she has a right to be here for the memorial service, and
 to pick up Rogue's possessions.  And Forge was Storm's lover."
    Mystique was dressed in a somber linen suit, as was her female
 companion, though the leader of Freedom Force's "normal" appearance was not
 helped by her blue-black skin and dark red hair.  Forge was dressed in a
 black suit, his only concession to his ancestry was a Western-style string
 tie and a concha belt buckle.  And he wore one leather glove, though he
 certainly didn't strike me as a Michael Jackson fan.
    I studied Mystique's older woman companion.  It took me a few moments
 to place her, for we'd met before, back when I was nine; Noemi and I had
 stayed at Aunt Irenie's chateau near Paris for a month while Interpol had
 searched for us in Germany.  Aunt Irenie had told me all sorts of fantastic
 stories about what would happen to me when I grew up.  I wasn't surprised
 to find her with Mystique; she'd been very sympathetic towards
 revolutionary causes.
    Magneto shook hands with them, directing a little nod towards Dr.
 MacTaggert, who picked up on his cue and started a conversation with Scott
 and Jean.  I circulated around, observing.  Captain Britain was drinking
 rather too much and talking with Kitty and Kurt, Meggan hanging off his arm
 as if she were surgically attached.  The X-Terminators were sitting with
 Illyana, Bobby, Warlock, and Mist and getting on extremely well, I thought.
 Sharon and Tom were talking with the elder Ramseys and Dani's folks.  I
 guess Illyana must have fetched them to lend moral support for Doug's
 cause.
    "Your attention, please," Magneto said, his voice clearly cutting
 through the buzz of conversations.  "Father Bowen will preside at an
 ecumenical memorial service in the Meditation Garden in a few minutes.
 Those who care to may speak in remembrance of our friends."  He paused.
 "In deference to the season's weather, I would suggest coats for those who
 need them."
    
    * * *
    
    Father Bowen was a good speaker who didn't demand his listeners
 believe or agree with his faith.  Instead he spoke of the X-Men and their
 good works, "those publicly known... and unknown."  Then he yielded the
 floor to the first speaker, Magneto.
    _My father_, I thought, trying it on for size, seeing how it echoed
 inside my head and made me feel.  For so long, there'd been hurt and pain
 and horrible memories.  Now there was respect and perhaps even the
 tentative bit of liking, like a seedling attempting to break through the
 hard ground.
    Magneto was holding forth on the theme of enemies turned to friends,
 and how it was a measure of worth on the part of the befrienders.  I took
 the time to look around and see how everyone was doing.  Kitty was already
 working on her second hankie, as was Rahne, who rested her head on Dani's
 shoulder.  Banshee had his arm around Moira's waist; Mystique held Irenie's
 hand.  Scott Summers stood alone, his hands clenching and unclenching.
 Jean was not in the group.
    I turned and looked back along the path we'd taken from the Mansion,
 just in time to see a flash of red hair turning a corner.  I was standing
 at the edge of the crowd anyway; I didn't know any of the X-Men and though
 I felt sorrow, it wasn't of the deeply personal variety.
    It was simplicity itself to unobtrusively go in pursuit of her.  When
 your feet don't have to actually touch the ground, you can move very
 silently.  Once out of sight I lifted off and started looking in earnest.
 Jean had begun moving fast once she'd left, and only after combing the
 little wood with my seeker sense did I lift myself higher to look out over
 the ground and discover her sitting peacefully on the tree house platform.
    Somebody in the past had really put themselves out in constructing
 the perfect aerie.  I'd asked Sam about it and he'd told me it predated
 him.  There weren't even any rungs nailed to the tree; you had to be able
 to climb like a squirrel or fly to get up to it.
    Originally, a lightning bolt must have hit the top of the tree,
 shearing off the center crown.  The platform was built just above the
 treeline, looking out over the sea of leaves and tree tops.  Now, in late
 October, the leaves were turned deep shades or already absent.
    Jean saw me floating above the trees and waved for me to set down
 next to her.  We were both silent for a minute, then I said, "Got worried
 about you, vanishing like that."
    She smiled, a small sad smile.  "I couldn't take it any longer.
 Those were people I loved and never saw again."
    "I'm sorry, Jean," I said.  "I'm sure they'd have been thrilled to
 find you alive, no matter how bizarre it all is."
    "Bizarre it is," she said.  "But, you know, the death they mourned
 wasn't _mine_ -- even that I was cheated of.  And Scott -- Scott loved and
 lost two women," tears started from her eyes, "and neither was _me_."
    I reached over to touch her hand and somehow we ended up hugging, her
 head on my shoulder.  "It'll be okay," I said.  "You know, nobody was under
 the impression that Maddy Pryor was _you_.  There was a great resemblance,
 but so many other things were different."
    "And I'll never know what they are," Jean said.  "I'm trying not to
 be glad she's dead.  It wasn't her fault she took my place in Scott's
 heart."
    "It wasn't Scott's fault, either," I said.  "He thought you were
 dead."
    "And I wouldn't have wanted him to put his life on hold," Jean said. 
 "But I'm glad I don't have to confront her.  Scott left her and came to me,
 unfair as it may be.  She'd have felt I'd stolen Scott from her -- and I,
 I'd feel resentment of her, _and_ I'd feel guilty for ruining her life."
    "None of it's your fault," I said.  "And it isn't Scott's fault
 either.  You shouldn't have to beat yourself up over this."
    "I know," she said and smiled slowly.  "It's good just to talk about
 it.  I can't speak with Scott yet -- he has enough to deal with now.  Once,
 I could have talked with Ororo, or Lorna or Misty -- but Storm is dead now,
 Lorna is who knows where, and Misty -- well, she probably hasn't thought of
 me in years."
    "What we shared, that makes us friends," I said.  "You know, I
 thought _I_ had a difficult background."
    "It isn't a resume that makes a friendship," Jean said.  "We should
 be friends anyway, we have the same power."
    "Either that or the most bitter of arch-enemies," I said.  Jean
 grinned at the thought.
    "It's much more fun being friends," she said.  "Speaking of which,
 Scott and I were talking on the way over -- have you decided where to go if
 you leave the School?  If you need a place to stay, you could come live
 with X-Factor, as long as you like...."
    I was at a loss for words.  Once I would have flatly refused her,
 because I wanted nothing at all to do with superheroes.  At another time, I
 would have instantly accepted, on an anyplace-on-Earth-that-isn't
 -associated-with-Magneto basis.  And now... "I've been rethinking
 leaving," I said at last.  "Since yesterday, everything's changed between
 me and Ma-- my father.  And I've decided to stay on."
    "You have?" Jean said.  She had a beautiful smile.  "I hoped you
 would -- I could see how much you liked the kids, how much you could
 benefit from the education--"
    "I'm sorry to turn you down," I said.
    "What's there to apologize for?" she said.  "We'll still be glad to
 have you, if you ever change your mind -- but even so, I could see you'd be
 happier, better off here, if you could force yourself to conquer your
 reluctance.  I think it's important for you to develop a relationship with
 your father.  After yesterday, I have to say it would be good for the both
 of you."
    "I guess I think so too," I said.  Jean put her arm around me.
    "And if you ever need someone to talk to," she said.  "Or someone to
 come to -- look for me."
    "Like an older sister," I said with what must have been a goofy grin.
    "Yes," she said.  "It's been so long since I've been close with my
 own sister -- there was so much to keep secret, I was so aware of my own
 differences -- I couldn't do it."
    "All right, then," I said.  I had to break the tension or I'd start
 bawling next.  "So do you have any dresses I can borrow?"
    Jean's eyes twinkled.  "Assuming two inches difference in our heights
 won't be a bother -- and assuming no one's given my outfits away to charity
 -- and allowing for the fact that everything is at least five years out of
 date -- feel free to borrow what you can scrounge."
    I grinned.  "You're on," I said.  "Bet there still is stuff in the
 attic.  And don't think I'm not going to check with Sharon."
    "We _should_ be getting back," said Jean.  She lifted off the
 platform and I followed her, up high enough to see the Mansion, the rest of
 the grounds and the lake, sparkling in the late sun.  The trees still held
 some of their fall glory; Halloween, with its bonfires and pumpkins, was
 still ahead of us.
    We angled down between the trees to discreetly land on the path
 outside the Meditation Garden, and slipped unobtrusively back into the
 service.  Only Magneto seemed to notice, lifting one magnificent white
 eyebrow.
    Jean smiled and nodded, and went off to stand with Scott.  The
 speeches of remembrance had come round to Banshee, and he was well-launched
 into a full-blown Irish eulogy.  It seemed he had a wild or humorous story
 to tell about each of the deceased X-Men.
    Few of the other speakers matched his eloquence or his length,
 settling for brevity, or an inarticulate "I'll miss them."  Father Bowen
 brought the service to a close with an invocation and a call for a minute
 of silence and prayer -- I studied Magneto's face as he bent his head.
 With his eyes closed, the mask of expression he usually wore was gone, and
 a sensitive, gentle face was revealed.  I'd never noticed before.
    Magneto solemnly shook hands with everyone as they departed the
 Garden, standing alongside Father Bowen.  There'd be coffee, drinks and
 more food, a kind of reception-cum-wake back at the Mansion for those who
 wished to linger.  Kitty went walking off with Stevie, Illyana with Doug
 and his parents in tow, the rest in various assorted groups.  I wondered
 what "Lila Cheney" had to say to Forge, anyway?
    "May I?" said Magneto, offering me his arm.
    I blinked at him; manners won the day and I tucked my hand around his
 very solid arm.
    "I wondered where you had gone, if the service or aught else had
 upset you,"  he said, after we'd strolled along the leaf-scattered path a
 bit.  "Then I saw you return with Jean and my concern was answered.  I fear
 events have been difficult for her."
    "She's bucking up," I said.  "You know, I'm sorry I didn't get to
 meet the X-Men."
    "They were worth the knowing," he smiled.  "As are you."
    I turned my head away, embarrassed.
    "Did Moira mention the initial results of examination of Noemi's
 tissue samples?" he said, and I looked over at him again.  "I see she did. 
 I feel vindicated, but also regretful, for if we had only known what to
 look for in her symptoms....  I blame myself most of all."
    "What are you talking about?  You didn't _know_," I said.  "I accept
 that."
    "But had I not deceived her as to the constitution of her treatments
 -- vitamin and mineral injections -- her doctors might have had a better
 chance at diagnosis."
    "Listen," I said.  "Dr. MacTaggert covered that with me.  Given that
 you thought her problem was psychosomatic, your treatment was reasonable.
 You may have lied to her -- but you did so she could continue in a cause
 that she believed in, passionately.  That she would have given her life
 for."
    "That she did, eventually, give her life for," he said.  "Though she
 knew it not.  I shall always regret what could have been."
    I looked at him and he met my gaze with electric blue eyes.  "If I
 can forgive her, I can forgive you," I said.  "And vice versa."
    "You make me very proud," he said.
    Just then there was an explosion to our right in the woods.  I could
 hear Kurt cursing and females giggling, and Kitty yelling "Boom-Boom!"
 Magneto straightened up a tad, preparing himself to go storming off after
 the errant X-Terminator.  "Scott warned me about his youngest student,
 Tabitha," he said, his expression boding ill for her.  "She seems to be in
 need of discipline."
    His discipline might drive her right away from the place she needed
 most, I thought.  "You've got the rest of the guests to attend to," I said.
 "I'll collect Dani and Sam, and we'll fix Boom-Boom's little red wagon."
    Magneto smiled with a touch of frost.  "If you care to 'give it a
 shot,'" he said.
    I lifted myself up in the air.  "I'll see to it," I said, and for a
 second I thought he smiled in pure pleasure.  
    And damned if I _didn't_ take care of it.
    
    *
    
    
    _Editor's End Notes, May 2143_
    
    As the years have passed and human memory has turned history into
 myth, I've watched my mother's imperfect personality be sanitized and
 reduced into plastic demi-godhood, leaving obscured the often contradictory
 but very good woman who really lived her life.
    Though I suppose holding off an alien invasion fleet constitutes a
 near-mythic feat, her life was filled with much more mundane concerns such
 as her medical career and her family, not necessarily in that order.  The
 great feats came not because she desired glory, but because there were jobs
 to do and she felt called upon to do them.  One thinks of a hero as someone
 who is born brave and never feels moments of fear or doubt.  Having known
 my fair share of heroes -- and having my own experiences to draw upon -- I
 know this is not so.
    When I came across a hitherto unknown cache of her journals and
 notes, two years and five months ago, I was inspired to begin working to
 bring them to publication: they formed an excellent portrait of the young
 girl before she became a legend; moreover, of a period in her life which
 profoundly influenced the direction of those she came into contact with.
 Furthermore, it was personally fascinating to read of events and people in
 the years before my birth.
    As I worked on the notes and journals, I gradually began to see the
 book not as a dry scholarly treatise but as a popular history, to recapture
 in the public imagination the true spirit of heroism.
    Therefore, I preserved where I could her own words, supplementing or
 bridging gaps only when necessary.  The raw notes and journals themselves
 will be published with scholarly notation later this year by Luna City
 University Press.  In the main text itself I have eschewed footnotes in
 favor of letting my mother's contemporaneous views and explanations speak
 for themselves.  
    Some material from other points of view was added to give a fuller
 picture of background events not available at the time to my mother.  For
 these episodes I am indebted to the help of the following people:
    * Caesar Manuel III of Nova Roma for access to personal records from
 his great-grandfather, Manuel de la Rocha.
    * The Muir Island Foundation and its conservator, my half-uncle Dr.
 Karl Hunter Xavier, for use of the memory/brain wave tapes left by Stevie
 Hunter and Magneto.  Access to these tapes is extremely limited: normally
 only fully accredited researchers are allowed to experience the intimate
 memories of these two historic figures.  So far as I know, _Kid Dynamo_
 constitutes the first popular publication of material taken directly from
 these sources.  The Foundation was also the source of the debriefing tape
 that makes up a goodly portion of Chapter Five.
    * President Sinclair Guthrie of the Freedom L5 Colony, for several
 fruitful interviews covering reminiscences shared with her by her
 grandfather Samuel Guthrie.
    * Jean Grey, for her help now _and_ then.
    * Nathan Summers, for moral support.
    
    For those who desire to learn even more about the personalities and
 situations depicted or referred to in this book, I would recommend the
 following books or tapes:
    * _Dance with Destiny: The Biography of Stevie Hunter_ by Deborah
 Atwood.  Covering Ms. Hunter's involvement with the X-Men, starting as
 Kitty Pryde's dance teacher and including her marriage to Magneto and other
 influential events.
    * _You Knew the Job Was Dangerous When You Took It_ by Samuel Guthrie
 with Pamela Welper.  A refreshing autobiography published originally in
 2039.  The book covers his youth up to the founding of the Freedom L5
 colony at age forty; especially recommended are the chapters covering his
 school days for contrast with the views presented in _this_ book.
    * _The Secret History of the X-Men_ by Daniel Zweig.  Rather
 scholarly, but exhaustively investigated and totally startling.  Highly
 recommended: I learned things _I_ didn't know.
    * _Moses and Aaron: The Mutant Leaders _by Peter Granger.
 Biographical portraits of Xavier and Magneto, comparing and contrasting
 their often competing, often entwined careers.  See especially the later
 section on the children who carried on with their dreams.
    
    Finally, I'd like to say: Thank you, Mother, wherever you are, for
 teaching me it is better to admit to error, to face your fear, and to speak
 the truth.
    
    Jasper Lokison Majewski
    
    -the end-
    
    
    
    This story (c) 1992 Connie Hirsch
    The New Mutants, Magneto, the Hellions, Loki, the Hellfire Club, the
 Horsemen of the Apocalpse, Spiderman, the Avengers, Power Pack and all
 constituent characters (c) 1992 Marvel Comics Group.  
    This story is not for sale and is not to be distributed without
 permission of the author.
.