What if...?

[InterNutter]

My problem is I get too many ideas, and not enough time to write them all. As any followers of my ongoing fictions will tell you.

*However*, I've since discovered that Round-Robins are an excellent way of getting the fics done without clogging my inspiration, and lots of folks can have fun with the idea as well.

This is an open Round Robin, meaning that anyone can leap in at any time, and you don't have to wait for your turn. All I ask is that nobody kills anyone, keep smilies out of your narrative, and that you have fun.

When we come to a "nice" ending, I'll sew it all together and post it here, on my site, and maybe on FFN if they aren't being a big bunch of buttplugs.

Okay. Now the idea:

What if Michael Darkholme and Rogue managed to escape the Brotherhood? I didn't want the poor guy to die anyway

Hence the tale...

=============8<==============

Michael Meets World

InterNutter et al.

_She's sacrificed so much for me... I can't let it end here._ With that thought, Michael Darkholme gently lifted Rogue and, for the first time ever, went outside. Almost alone.
But not quite.
"Looks like we caught one of the X-Men red-handed," said Pyro. He was posturing, as he usually did. "He must be trying to recruit Rogue."
Michael didn't bother hanging around to listen to what the others said. He clung to Rogue and thought about the furthest place he'd seen from his attic window. Well outside the mansions' grounds.
Live or die, they'd be together.
{Bamf!}
Surrounded by trees. Not fences. Free.
Exhausted.
Michael collapsed to his knees, and used all his strength to gently lay his first and only friend down. "At least we're free," he whispered, carefully holding her close so she'd stay warm. "Wake up soon?" he asked. "I need you help out here..."
Darkness overcame him, and he prayed that he would wake to the world again.

[Next?]

[Slarti]

I'd love to play, but I've never laid eyes on that What If. I've tried to find it, and heard about it, but I need a refresher. Is it online anywhere, or is there a good play-by-play around... or would anyone just plain like to tell me what exactly went on in it? *makes with the big eyes*

[Nandireya]

Its okay, Slarti...Ill take it from here...

_________________________________

Destiny screamed as strange images overcame her. She stumbled about the mansion’s dark corridors, searching for Raven. This had never happened before…her premonitions had never changed so radically.

“He should be dead…” She mumbled to herself. “Fire…ice…blood…it was all so clear…” She tripped over something her sightless eyes could never have seen. “I’ve never been wrong before…”

“Irene…” A groggy voice answered her. “What are you babbling about?”

“Raven!” She gasped. “What I warned about has come to pass…your two families have met…”

“No…” Raven whispered. She remembered what Irene had told her…she had sought to protect Michael from his fate, locking him away for his own good. But it had been all for naught. She bolted down the stairs and out into the cold, dreading what she knew she’d find there…

She skidded on snow as she spotted Pyro, Avalanche and Blob, standing in a semi-circle.

“Now that was the darndest thing…” Pyro said.

“Where’s the little freak go?” Blob scratched his head.

“Wherever he went…he took the little skunk head with him…” Avalanche added.

“Man…” Pyro lamented. “Mystique’s gonna have our guts for garters!”

“Gone…?” The trio turned at the sound of her voice. “But Irene said…”

“Ah…” Blob began.

“We can explain…” Avalanche continued.

“They just disappeared in a stinkin’ cloud of smoke…” Pyro finished.

‘Then he’s alive…’ Raven could feel the smile curl her lips…the weight lift from her heart.

“Spread out, you idiots!” She demanded. “Find them! They don’t know the lay of the land…they can’t have gotten far!” The trio leapt to her bidding.

“They have to find him…he can’t survive out there…”

~~~~~~

“Why am Ah so cold?” Rogue wondered as she sat up slowly. “Where the heck am Ah?” She glanced around, trying to get her bearings, finally noticing the shadowy figure in the snow beneath her, warming her body with his own. ‘He so sweet…’ She smiled…then she remembered what had brought them out here…

“Michael!?” She shook him violently.

“Uhmmm…?” He looked up at her with glassy, golden eyes.

“C’mon…” She dragged him to his feet. “We gotta get outa here!” The pair spun as they heard the approach of the Brotherhood.

“Send up a flare or somethin’, will ya?” A gruff voice demanded. “We’ll find ‘em more easy if we can actually see!”

A bright flame ignited the gloom, terrifying both youngsters.

“Let’s move!” Rogue grabbed Michael’s hand and pulled him into a sprint.

“But…Mom’s gonna be angry if I don’t go back…” He protested, feeling suddenly guilty about what he’d done.

“Forget about her!” Rogue yelled at him. “She kept you locked away! She don’t deserve you!”

“But…” He paused as he thought of what she’d said. “Where will we go?”

“We’ll figure that out later…right now all that matters is that we’re free…” She gave his hand a comforting squeeze and smiled at him. “Free…and together…”

[InterNutter]

His heart was hammering in his chest, and his muscles flagged.
"Come *ON*..." said Rogue. "We gotta run!"
"Please..." Michael panted. "...so tired... I - I just want... to sit... or sleep..." His nose was running and he wiped it with his hand. No time to find a hankerchief.
Blue fur came away red and matted with blood.
"Uh oh."
Rogue looked. "Oh mah gawd... What's happenin' to ya?"
They slowed to a walk, but it was still a rapid one. "I don't know," he managed. "Never went this far... Never carried anyone... feel so funny..."
Rogue bit her lip. "Ah bet it ain't the funny-ha-ha kind, either." She bent and scooped up some snow, then mooshed it into his face.
"AAAAHHH! That's *COLD*!"
"*Hold* it there," Rogue ordered. "It'll slow the bleeding. Maybe even stop it."
They fumbled the exchange, trying not to touch and thereby activate Rogue's powers. Blood-soaked snow fell to the ground as they moved.
"Where are we goi'g?" Michael asked, speech mangled by the blocked nose.
"Away," answered Rogue. "There's gotta be somewhere where we can hole up. Or someone who'll help us. We just gotta keep moovin' until we find it, is all."
They walked on, into the freezing night.
"They dever bentiod this id the boovies," said Michael.
Rogue had to laugh. "No. They never do. Ah guess heroes ain't allowed to have nosebleeds."
"My sdow's belti'g..."
"Just pick up some more when ya run out. We gotta try an' hurry."

"Where the bloody hell've they gone?" Pyro muttered.
"Away?" suggested Blob.
"Sometimes, you're a real genius," Avalanche sarcasmed. Then something caught his attention. "Here. They were here."
"What? How can you tell?" said Blob.
Avalanche stooped and picked up some red snow. "There's blood on the ground."
"Blood?" echoed Mystique. "Which one of you hurt him?"
"None of us laid a finger on the little freak!" said Avalanche.
"That 'freak'," said Mystique with all the warmth of a winter on Pluto, "is my *son*."

[Next?]

[Nandireya]

Well tag team until somebody else comes in

_________________________________

“Your SON!?” Blob and Avalanche said in flabbergasted unison.

Pyro cocked his head to one side and studied their fearsome leader. “Ya know…I CAN see a resemblance…”

“Shut up!” She shoved him. “If you didn’t hurt him, why is he bleeding?”

“Coulda been scratched by them branches.” Pyro jerked a thumb at the dark, naked foliage around them.

“I don’t know…” Avalanche shook his head, looking up from where he’d crouched in the bloodstained snow. “There’s an awful lot of blood here…we’re talking a major haemorrhage here…”

Raven frowned inwardly. Maybe Destiny was right after all…

~~~~~~

“Rogue…” Michael gasped. “I can’t go on much longer…” He stumbled, slipping on the snow, and the pair tumbled to the ground together. His breathing was growing shallow, and even in the darkness, and through his fur, she could see he was growing pale. The bright glow of his eyes had faded to little more than an ember.

“Michael…” She whispered, pulling him into her arms. “You can’t leave me out here all alone…” She began to cry as his eyes closed and he became limp in her arms.

She wasn’t sure how long she sat there, huddled in the snow with the barely breathing bundle in her arms. She sensed, more than heard the movement off to her right. She tensed, trying to ease the glove from her hand without losing her grip on the unconscious youth in her arms.

A shadowy figure approached. She backed away as well as she could. She frowned when the shadow spoke to her, warmly, apparently unconcerned with the presence of a blue furry demon-child…

“Looks to me like you kids could use a little help…”

[InterNutter]

"Don't you dare hurt him," warned the girl. "Ah kin drop you like a rock an' don't you doubt it."
"Relax," said Hank, "I'm a doctor. *And* a mutant. I won't hurt your friend." Slowly, cautiously, and careful not to spook either of the young teens, he moved closer. "Looks like he's battling hypothermia *and* shock. What've you been up to?" The nosebleed was a concern, too. "It looks like he's lost a lot of blood..."
"Kin ya help him?"
"We need to get him warm, first, and work on staunching the bleeding properly," said Hank. "My car can suffice for both - if you'll allow me?"
The girl withdrew her protective arms. "Ah'll let ya carry him, Ah guess."
Translation: He's too heavy for her. "Thank you," Hank smiled as he lifted the young boy. He was certainly *very* mutant. And, frankly, lucky to survive to this age. Eyes dim, breathing shallow, pulse... steady, if not strong, and way too fast for his comfort. "When he comes to, we can remind him not to go out in the snow in just jeans and a shirt." He lead the way to his car.
The girl didn't smile. She just followed in his wake. "Should Ah give him mah jacket? It's warm..."
"That's kind of you, but a bad idea. I don't want *two* cases of hypothermia on my conscience. You're so small, you could freeze on the way to the car, especially with that layer of sweat on your skin."
The ground trembled under their feet. "Kin we hurry?"
"If you feel it's prudent," he allowed.
She broke into a trot. "Ah think we better *run*!"
Hank frowned as he increased his speed. Something was very amiss with this situation. Were it not for the telepathic SOS from Xavier, he wouldn't have stopped to investigate these woods. A massive surge of power, a mutant in danger. Well, this certainly qualified...
He kept pace with the girl, making sure she didn't strain herself in the process, or trip and wrench something.
"Nearly there," he cheered. "Chin up."
"Ah'd rather keep mah *feet* up," she said. "Haul ass!"
She had spunk, he had to give her that. And pluck. What he *regretted* was the mouth.
"Ah see the car!" She put on a burst of speed that surprised him, then promptly discovered that the doors were locked. "God damnit! Open it up!"
"Less of the potty-mouth, thankyou," said Hank, reaching for his keys. Good thing he had central locking.
They were inside with moderate speed, his unconscious patient sprawled across the back seat, but the girl was clearly anxious.
"Y'awnouttaheah! Git! Go! *DRIVE*!"
"We need to stabilise the patient."
"Jest tell me whut t' do an' Ah'll do it. We gotta get *OUTTA* here! *Drive*!"
"There's a medkit in the footwell on the passenger side," said Hank. "There's some space blankets in there, they look like tinfoil sachets."
"Drive," ordered the girl. "Ah found 'em."
Hank started the car and proceeded on his way. "Unfold one and wrap it around him. Then locate the gauze wads. One per nostril."
"They look like tampons," she said.
In fact, they were, but kids were prone to be squeamish about such things, so he decided to avoid the issue. "Yes," he said. "They do."
A pause and some grunting. "Raht. Now whut?"
"There's some chemical heat packs underneath the sterile dressings. You activate it by snapping the glass bubble inside--"
{Snap} "*OW*! Damn, that's hot..."
"--but it works *fast*, so wrap it in a towel." Hank sighed. He could have phrased that better.
"Got it," she said, muffled by some fingers in her mouth. "Ah wrapped it up an' put it inside the foil with 'im."
"Clever girl," said Hank. "Do you know his blood type? Yours?"

[Well? does she?]

[Nandireya]

Hank's a smart guy...so...

_________________________________

“Um…blood type…?” The girl said absently. Hank readjusted the rear-view mirror so he could see the pair while still concentrating on his driving. He frowned, she was obviously concerned about her blue-furred friend. VERY concerned…

‘Ah…’ He smirked to himself. ‘Young love…’

“Uuhhh…” A soft golden glow seemed to fill the back seat.

“Michael?” The girl leaned closer. “Are ya all right? How do ya feel?”

“I feel like a military academy…” He said. “Bits of me keep passing out…”

Hank couldn’t help but chuckle. The boy was startled to realise he was in the presence of a total stranger. His golden eyes, the only thing Hank could really see of his shadowy features, were wide and full of fear. He twisted slightly in his seat and smiled at him. “A fellow fan of the late, great Douglas Adams, hmmm?”

“I…” the boy stuttered.

“Ah get the feelin’ that he watches an appallin’ amount o’ TV…” The girl smiled.

“Who…?” The boy began again.

“Hank McCoy…” The big man indicated himself. “Mutant…doctor…former Avenger…current X-Man…and all round nice guy…” He smiled again.

“Ex-man…?” The boy quirked an eyebrow. “Sounds kinda effeminate…”

Hank burst out in a full laugh. “I suppose it does…but it’s the letter ‘X’…indicating the possession of the x-gene…not the suffix ‘ex’ meaning ‘not any more’…”

“X-Men?” The girl whispered. “Raven mentioned them…” She leaned in close to the boy, and there was a rapid, whispered exchange between the two.

‘Raven…?’ Hank's eyes narrowed as he studied the boy. With his deep blue colouring and luminous golden eyes, he reminded Hank of someone else. What was it the girl had called him? “Michael…” Hank said aloud. Two sets of eyes looked to him at the mention of the name. Hank noticed he had their attention…and decided to push a little further…

“Michael…Darkholme…?”

“How…” The boy began.

“Did ya come up with such a name?” The girl finished, slapping a gloved hand over his mouth.

“I know a Raven Darkholme…” Hank informed them. “And you look a lot like her…”

The two exchanged a somewhat defeated look. “Are ya gonna take us back?” The girl said finally.

“Not unless that’s what you want…” Hank told them.

[InterNutter]

"Ain't no way in *hell* we're goin' back there," Rogue said. "You ain't got no idea what was goin' *on* in that place. They had him locked in the *attic*, with *nobody*!"
"I had Mom," Michael murmured.
"You don't deserve your Mom," she told him. "You're too good for her. Ah -- Michael, Ah touched her, an' Ah *saw* her mem'ries. Ah know why she won't talk about how you saved her."
"Rogue, you don't have to--"
"Ah *gotta*. Michael... Your Mom tried to *kill* you. She was gonna save her hide by throwin' you off a *waterfall*."
"But she didn't," he said.
"She was *this* close," said Rogue, showing a tiny gap between her thumb and forefinger. "One second, one way or the other... and we'd have never known each other at *all*. It's not right. You have a right to know the world. An' the world aughta know you back." She hugged him, gently.
Michael smiled. "You have the right to a prettier name than 'Rogue', too. Something nice. Poetic."
She blushed. "Stop that... you need medical help. Ya shouldn't be flirtin'."
In the front, Doctor McCoy cleared his throat. "How do you feel, Michael?"
"Dizzy. Sick. Tired. Cold. Hungry... I think I've been through the wringer."
"It's going to be all right, soon," the Doctor assured. "We X-Men pride ourselves in having a well-stocked infirmary. We can cure just about anything."
Rogue sighed with relief, then suddenly found herself crying like a child.
"Rogue?" said Michael.
"Shock," said Hank. "When we have you settled down, you can tell me your story. I'm willing to bet it's a hum-dinger."

[NEXT!]

[Nandireya]

For those of you unfamiliar with the story that this stems from try this...it explains most of it...we've just tinkered with the ending

Now...back to our story...

[Fuzzy]

Hank pulled the car to a stop in front of a huge mansion.

Rouge couldn't help but think of the place they'd just left- they were so similar- would things be any different here? Or would Michael go back to hiding because thats what he was used to?

She was startled as a hand grabbed her arm and pulled her out of the car... a tall man wearing a strange visor over his eyes led her up the steps- Hank was already bundling Michael inside- Rouge started to run after him but nearly collapsed, suddenly realizing how tired she was. The tall man steadied her and helped her inside.

(PS what's the line-up of X-men in this story?)

[InterNutter]

For the sake of argument, the line-up is thus:

Cyclops, Marvel Girl [Remember when she was codenamed *that*?], Angel, Ice Man and Beast.

In other words, previous to Deadly Genesis.

=======================8<=====================

"Is he gonna be okay?" Rogue pleaded. "There was a lot of blood..."
"He'll be fine," assured the man with the visor. "Hank just has to type his bood and give him a transfusion, then some medicine to help him recover. He'll be sleepy for a day or two, but I think he'll bounce back." He guided her gently inside.
"Allus was good at bouncin'," Rogue smiled. She was shivering. Why was she shivering?
"You're suffering from shock," said a red-haired woman. She wrapped a pre-warmed blanket around Rogue and helped her hold it around her. "From the feel of things, I'd say you two have had a rough night."
She seemed so *nice*. This was the 'enemy'? Compared to Raven's three students, they were peaches and cream. "Are y'all X-Men? Like Dr. McCoy?"
"Yes," said the woman. "My name's Jean. Jean Grey. This is Scott Summers. What's your name?"
"Just Rogue," she said. "Ain't never had no other name."
"We'll do some research," Jean promised. "You'll have a real name, soon enough."
"So what about your friend?" said Scott. "Does he have a name?"
"Yeah. But you're gonna make a big deal outta it."
Scott watched her for a moment. "Well?"
"Michael -- Darkholme."
Scott instantly retreated a step at the 'Darkholme'. Seems he knew about Raven, too.
"It don't mean *he's* nasty," Rogue defended. "He's nice. He's too nice to stay all locked up with nobody but *her*!" Tears flowed again. Damnit, she was never this weak...
"Shhh..." soothed Jean. "It's going to be all right. Scott's going to get you some hot chocolate." Glare. "*Aren't* you, Scott?"
"Huh? Oh. Yeah. Hot chocolate. Sure. Right away." Scott retreated slightly faster than he should have.
Rogue tried to stop her weeping. "Damnit... Ah ain't never been this big a crybaby..."
"You cry all you want to," assured Jean. "It's all right to cry. It's natural."
"But what about Michael?"
"He's fine."
She was so sure. How could she believe otherwise?

Michael had lost consciousness again sometime after he was hit by a wave of warm air. There was a timeless moment of darkness without feeling. Then he woke to antiseptics and linnen and--
_Oh. My. God..._ He was staring. He couldn't help it. There was an Angel at the foot of his bed. _I must have died. Poor Rogue._
Then the inconsistencies began to make themselves known. This angel was wearing jeans, and sipping from a cup of coffee.
"Where's y'r robes?" he managed.
"Hm?" the angel startled. "What?"
"Where's your robes? Angels wear robes." His voice was small, owing to exhaustion and a lifetime of keeping quiet.
The angel laughed. "Not this one, pal. Robes aren't my scene." He smiled. "And for your next question, no. You're not dead and I *haven't* come to take you to heaven. I'm just a mutant. Nothing else." He sipped more coffee. "Warren Worthington III."
Michael raised a hand and shook his. "Michael Darkholme. The only."
"I can believe *that*."
There was a tube in his arm, and something else went up a nostril. And sticky things on his chest and forehead.
"You pushed your powers to the utmost," said Mr Worthington. "You're gonna have to stay put for a day, maybe more. Hank says he doesn't like your blood count."
"Is that why I'm tired?"
"Yep. Blood loss tends to make you sleepy. Bad idea if you're still bleeding. You hungry?"
Michael nodded.
Mr Worthington smiled. "That's a good sign. Apparently, you've got a faster metabolism. Loss of appetite is dangerous stuff."
"Are you a doctor, too?"
Mr Worthington laughed. "Naw... I just got the brief from Hank. Danger signs, really dangerous signs, and Goddamnit, why haven't you called me yet," he laughed at his own joke. "You know. The whole rigmarole."
"Where's Rogue?"
"She's undergoing her own therapy upstairs. You two can talk when she's ready."
"Is she okay? She was crying. Rogue never cries." The last sound he'd heard had been of her tears. Very worrying.
"Your friend's going to be *fine*," soothed Mr Worthington. "Shock does funny things to people, sometimes. She'll ride it out and be back to normal in no time."
"Tha's good..." Michael relaxed, and darkness overcame him again.

Professor Charles Xavier was used to varying degrees of debate amongst his students. In fact, there'd been times when he'd had to step in between the arguers and seperate combatants. Metaphocially speaking, of course. He hadn't been able to literally step in to *anywhere* for decades.
"His *name* is Michael *Darkholme*!"
"He's been locked in an *attic* his entire life."
"But his *name* is Michael *Darkholme*!" Scott repeated. "What further proof do you *need*?"
Hank began ticking points off on his fingers. "Intent. Modus Operandi. Means and motive..."
"He's Mystique's *son*. He's *got* to be up to something."
"Unlike *some* people present, I've spent some time with the boy. If he *was* placed here as a mole, he'd do so under a different name, and *far* more suspicious circumstances. He would *never* come to us in need of serious medical attention!"
"Students!" Professor Xavier barked. "*Please*.... We should give young Michael the benefit of the doubt. If we didn't trust someone on the basis of their name alone," here, he angled his gaze at Scott, "we'd be just as bad as the foes we face."
"Sir, do you think that's wise? This could be an elaborate ploy."
"I doubt it," said Xavier. "Before today, we didn't even know Mystique *had* a son. And the situation Hank found them in is indicative that he's had little - if any - formal training. You know her students, Scott. Would they *ever* allow themselves to be in such dire straits?"
Scott looked down. "I'm still giving him a locator. I can't trust him. He's a Darkholme."
Hank raised an eyebrow. "And if you found out that your father was guilty of war crimes?" he asked. "Would you trust yourself?"
"That's got nothing to do with it!"
"On the contrary. It has *everything* to do with it," said Hank. "Consider it. Please."
"You leave my father out of it," Scott warned. Family was always a touchy subject with him.
"It was a hypothetical situation, Scott," Charles soothed. "He didn't mean anything."
Scott stalked out of the room. He was angry and confused and probably likely to do something rash.
Charles hoped he would just blow off steam in the Danger Room.

[NEXT!]

[Fuzzy]

Scott stalked down the hallway, then suddenly slipped and fell hard- into a pile of slush.

"Bobby!"

"HAHAHAHA!!!!" Bobby nearly fell over, hugging his sides, with a roar of laughter.

"Bobby, you know you're not supposed to do that, especially inside!"

"Aw, come on, Slim, Jean said you needed to cool off" -with this Bobby created a snowball over Scott's head.

Scott was understandably NOT amused. He hit Bobby with a low-power blast, knocking him over.

"Get a mop," Scott said as he stalked away.

[InterNutter]

It was a big bowl of stew, and very much welcome to Michael, who all but inhaled his first serving. He'd never *been* this hungry...
A man with a red and gold visor strode into the room. "Take a break," said the newcomer. "I'll keep him under tabs."
"Sure," said Mr Worthington. "Here's Hank's list of alarms."
The newcomer took the papers and smiled until Mr Worthington left the room. Then he put the papers down and turned nasty.
"I know who you are," said the visor-man. "I know you can't be up to any good. You might fool the others, but you don't fool me. I'm *watching* you."
Michael felt uneasy. He was sure he hadn't done anything to make anyone angry, but here was an angry person, aimed right at him. Then he realised what it was. He was his mother's son. "Mom did something to you, didn't she?"
Visor-man snorted. "As if you don't know." He dug in some drawers and came out with a bracelet, which he snapped onto Michael's wrist. "This is a locator. It's going to tell me where you are. You so much as set one foot on sensitive territory - and I'll make your life a living hell."
Michael swallowed, stomach sinking. "But - how do I know where I can go?"
"There's a grey zone," said Visor-man. "You walk into a grey zone, and it'll chirp. You *keep* walking, into the red zone, and it sets off a house-wide alarm. And if you set off the alarm, *Dark*holme, you're toast."
Michael shuddered. "I understand," he said.
"Good," Visor-man backed away, as far as he could go. "You're only here under the Professor's good graces. Remember that."
Michael nodded. "Sir? Can I ask a question?"
"What?"
"Um. Does Rogue know about the Red Zones? I don't want her to get into trouble."
"*Rogue*," said Visor-man,"hasn't been trained by your mother. You've spent your whole life with her."
"That's not my fault," he murmured. Stomach full, he started nodding. "...couldn't really get away..."

Scott watched the creature sleep. It was hard to believe that the boy could possibly be innocent of everything his mother had perpetrated. He'd spent a lifetime with that psychotic - harridan. He was bound to have some of her tricks.
Look at him. Sleeping like an innocent. Not a care in the world. You'd think butter wouldn't melt in his mouth. But I *know* better.
He's a Darkholme. Just as dangerous and poisonous and deadly as his mother.
And thanks to that locator, everyone will know about it.
All he had to do was *wait*.

[Fuzzy]

several hundred feet off, a pair of tiny mansions were reflected in the lenses of a set of binoculars...

Raven lowered the binoculars. I can't see either of them... but im sure that's where they are- its the only logical solution... but how do I get them back... "Drive, Pyro."

As pyro drove the car away, Raven slumped back in her seat. She showed no emotion on the surface, but inside she ached. Trying to stop the tears from coming, she worried over her lost children... She didnt look back until the mansion was long out of sight.

[Nandireya]

Michael watched with wide eyes as Hank mused over a clipboard full of paper. He moved to the bag that hung from a shiny steel pole by the side of the bed, checking the level of the dark liquid inside.

“Hmmm…” The big man intoned thoughtfully. He heard a soft noise, something akin to the squeak of a mouse, and looked up into the worried golden eyes that were studying his every movement. He smiled warmly. “You’re well on the mend.” He said brightly. “You should be up and about in no time.”

“Not if slit-eye has anything to say about it…” Michael muttered under his breath.

Hank arched a brow. He hadn’t heard clearly what the boy had said, but the tenseness of his body, the tone of his voice, he hadn’t seen either in him before. He’d seen the boy’s fear, his humour, his devotion…but this was the first time he’d seen anything close to anger in him.

“Let me guess…” Hank cocked his head to one side. “You’ve met Cyclops?”

Michael frowned at the name. The visor-man hadn’t actually introduced himself…only his anger at a boy who bore a surname he hated. ‘Must mean slit-eye…’

“Tall, skinny guy with severe sunglasses and a severer attitude?” He asked in way of clarification.

“Yeah…” Hank sighed. “That’d be him.” Hank knew full well that Cyclops had been in here…he’d relieved him after all…but he didn’t know what had transpired between the two.

“Yeah…” Michael absently fiddled with the thing he’d put around his wrist. “We’ve met…”

‘Professor…’ Hank thought to his mentor.

‘Yes, Hank?’ Came the reply.

‘I think we’re gonna have to have a little talk to Scott about playing nicely with the other children…’ He looked at the now very sullen Michael, anger burning brightly in his flaming golden eyes. ‘Or we’re gonna have a little self-fulfilling prophecy on our hands…’

[InterNutter]

D'oh! We must've been writing at the same time... ::Edits frantically::

==============8<===============

"...and then Bobby stuck a snowball down his neck!"
Both teens cracked up laughing. Michael was looking a lot better and starting to fidget. Always a good sign. The air was filled with happy thoughts.
"Good morning," said Charles. "I'm Professor Xavier. Welcome to my Institute for Gifted Youngsters."
"Rogue didn't mean anything by calling Mr Drake 'Bobby'. He told her he liked being called that."
Good grief. A teenager who still respected his elders. Charles had thought they were extinct. "That's fine," Charles soothed. "In fact, informality is encouraged amongst my students. I feel it builds an atmosphere of comeraderie."
"Whew," said Michael.
Rogue giggled. "He were real worried about that. Ah *tried* t' tell him, but he's all 'we gotta be nice, where else could we go?' Kin you tell 'im y'all ain't gonna throw us out?"
"I just don't want to get into trouble," said Michael.
It seemed a genuine concern, and the image of Scott flitted through the boy's topmost thoughts. _Oh dear..._ Charles made a mental note to have a little chat to Scott, later. "You don't have to concern yourself. Scott is in the minority amongst my students, most of whom prefer to give the both of you time to adjust before passing judgement."
"Scott's the one with the red glasses," said Rogue. "He's gotta wear them or these laser beams shoot out an' wreck the livin' shi-- *hem*" she stopped herself from cussing. "*Snot* outta everythin'."
"Ow... Do they hurt?"
"Just little headaches, sometimes," said Rogue. "Sometimes he gets these migranes? One whole side of his *face* goes numb an' he takes a whole mess o' pills."
"Oh *no*... Is he going to be all right?"
Charles was touched by Michael's concern. "Scott's fine. The headaches are caused by scarring from an old head wound. A wound, alas, that also keeps his power permanently active."
"No wonder he's mad," Michael said. "I'm sorry."
_Now what on Earth?_ Charles couldn't find anything that connected Scott's childhood accident with Michael's remorse. "It happened a long time ago. So long that he's almost used to them. I don't think it makes a significant impact on his emotions." He cleared his throat. "Now. I came here seeking a little information about yourselves. What are your powers?"
"Ah take people when Ah touch 'em," said Rogue. "Everythin' that's them winds up in mah head. If they're mutants, Ah take their powers, too. Sometimes, if Ah put a lot of thought into it? Ah can choose... but it wipes me out, too. An' the person Ah touch? They're out of it fo' a while."
"I teleport," said Michael. "I can climb pretty well, and I'm sort of okay at gymnastics. I can also see in the dark. Nothing as cool as Rogue, though. She can do *anything*."
"Except touch," said Rogue. "First boy Ah kissed - he wound up in a coma for a month."
This startled Michael. "You never said..."
"Ah didn't want to." Now Charles noticed how she was always wearing gloves. How she was cautious, even then, about touching another person. "It's hard, sometimes. Ah liked t' pretend - you know - that we *could*..."
"We'll find a way," Michael vowed. "We'll work on it. Together." His tail snaked around her arm and squeezed.
Rogue blushed.

[Anyone else want to do more "getting to know you" stuph?]

[MoonbeamDancer]

Wow, this is good so far. I just have one complaint, and it's for Fuzzy. It's nothing bad, you just need to put quotation marks at the beginning and end of when people are talking, that's all.

[Nandireya]

Im not sure about Bobbys faith...but I figure its a natural reaction

‘Seems Hank was right about young Michael’s feelings towards Scott…he’s so foremost in his mind…and not in a good way…’ Charles mused for a moment. ‘But they changed so quickly…he’s such a caring soul…not at all like his mother…I seriously doubt we have to fear Hank’s ‘self-fulfilling prophecy’…still…I must have a word with Scott…’

He found Scott in the library, staring broodily out the window, an open, and unread book in his lap. “You’re going to tell me to lighten up on the little creep, aren’t you?” He said without even turning to look at his teacher…his surrogate father…

“I thought I was the telepath…” Charles smiled. “And he’s not a little creep…as you put it…he’s a bright, inquisitive and very caring human being.”

“It’s the inquisitive bit that worries me…” Scott mumbled.

“I don’t sense anything foul about him…” Charles began.

“You’ve done a full scan then?” Scott demanded.

“No…he’s still too weak for that…”

“His probably got mental shields anyway…” Scott huffed. “But he won’t get into anything he’s not supposed to…”

“Yes…the tracker…” Charles’ voice was low…almost disapproving.

“So you don’t approve?”

“Scott…he’s a terrified young man…you’re just spooking him more…if you continue to treat him like the enemy that’s what he’ll eventually become!”

“You want me to just give him the benefit of the doubt? Knowing where he came from?”

“He’s just a boy, Scott…” Charles sighed. “Try and get to know him a little better before you judge him…Hank and Warren have already warmed to him…though I do fear Bobby’s first meeting…”

~~~~~~

“Ha…” Warren smirked. “Can you just imagine the reaction we’d get if that kid and I walked down the street together?”

“You could certainly freak some Christian fundamentalists…” Hank nodded.

“Why?” Bobby asked in innocence. “Is something wrong with him?”

“You haven’t gone to see him yet?” Hank asked.

“Nah…that Rogue chick’s all lovey dovey over him…and who wants to see THAT?”

“Maybe you should go and introduce yourself.” Warren suggested. “He’ll be staying here for a while I imagine…and he’s only about a year or so older than you…you two should get on like a house on fire…”

“Okay…” The youngest X-Man shrugged and headed for the infirmary.

“This I HAVE to see!” Warren beamed.

“Why?” Hank frowned, unable to fathom the angelic mutant’s enthusiasm.

“Bobby’s totally freaked by horror movies and the like…” Warren explained. “And you know what that kid looks like.”

“That’s not very nice…” Hank grumbled. “Michael’s the sweetest guy…far more an angel than others I could mention…”

“What was that?” Warren looked back at his lumbering friend.

“Never mind…” Hank sighed.

~~~~~~

Bobby could here voices as he approached the infirmary door. One he immediately recognised as Rogue’s…the Southern drawl and peppery language were unmistakable. The other was soft, barely more than a whisper…

‘Gotta be whatsisname…Michael?’ He heard Rogue break into a laugh. ‘He must be something if he can get that girl to lighten up…I haven’t met anyone as sullen since I met Slim…’

He rounded the doorframe, leaning against it in an attempt to look cool for the newcomers…

Then he got his first look at Michael…

The dark skin…the pointed ears…the tail, obviously his, wrapped around the girl’s arm. He was smiling slightly, revealing the tips of two very sharp looking fang-like teeth.

‘Holy spit!’ He thought, absently crossing himself.

“AAARRRRGGGHHHH!!!!!” He screamed and bolted back down the corridor, nearly knocking both Warren and Hank off their feet.

“Told you it’s be good…” Warren smirked. Hank just sadly shook his head.

[kladyelf]

*klady wanders onto thread* OooOOOoo!
Remember folks, this Kurt - erm, Michael has never had to deal with the outside world's reaction yet, despite his mothers warnings. And so far reactions have been positive re: his appearance.

(sorry if this is a little choppy, i guess its just like riding a bike, at least once you get back into it.... )
===========================================

Yellow eyes registered a flicker of movement by the door before a terrified scream made them both jump.
"What was that?" Michael blinked, startled and uneasy
"Um... Ah think it was, uh, Ah'll go find out" Rogue stammered before making a beeline for the door.
Poking her head around, the southerner encountered a chuckling Angel and a sad-eyed McCoy.
"An' Jus' whaddaya think you're doing?" she hissed, throwing a cat-eyed glare at the winged X-Man.
Warren raised his hands as if to ward off an attack "Hey lady, calm down OK? It wasn't my fault -"
"Warren - "
"Not now Hank. Like I said, its not my fault that Bobby couldn't handle meeting our new guest"
"Ya didn't tell him?"
"Warren! - "
"Hell no, it was too much fun!"
A growl from Hank quelled the incipient fight, as the blue-furred doctor stalked past the two, to look in on his patient.

Michael's sharp ears had been picking up the conversation a half-denied remorseful ache tightening in his chest.

"I, I... it was me?"

[InterNutter]

Mother was right.
Some people were just unprepared for him. Unprepared to the point of being afraid. And people destroyed what they feared...
Michael rubbed the band on his wrist. So far, he'd made one person angry and one person afraid. Two out of six people harboured negative emotions towards him.
And he hadn't even got out of bed, yet.
Mom's lectures about the inevitability of human hatred ran through his mind. She'd almost surrendered to that hate, once. Almost let it rule her.
And now he learned that mutants weren't that much different from humans, really. They had the same prejudices. The same fears.
His finger ached to draw something. Create. Lose himself in making his twisted hands form beauty from graphite and paint. But all he had was his tail, himself, and a world of hurt.
Michael tucked his tail back under the covers and, not knowing exactly why, raised the sheet over his head.
_This is what it's like,_ he thought, _to not hurt anyone._

Bobby stopped running. Holy hades. Jesus Mary and Joseph, what on *Earth* was that *thing*?
Then he got slugged on the jaw.
For a young girl, Rogue had an impressive right hook.
"Bobby Drake, you scum-suckin' son-of-a-b*tch! Do you have any idea what you just *did* to him?"
Two equivalent degrees and all he could come up with was, "Huh?"
"You got no idea what it's like to *be* him, do ya? He knows he's diff'rent, he don't need it rubbed up in his face! You assh*le!"
Bobby made the mistake of trying to get up, and Rogue knocked him down. "Hey, what gives?"
"What *gives*? Ah been tellin' him how *NICE* y'all are, an' the minute you lay eyes on him, you gotta scream your fool head off! It's bad enough *one* of ya hates him 'cause of his *name*, and you gotta *scream* at him an' ya got the brass-ball *nerve* to ask me what *GIVES*!"
Bobby wiped blood off his lip. That was a 'he'? He hadn't seen anything like that off of a movie screen.
"*Rogue*!" Professor X barked. "Stop that!"
"But he--"
He held up a silencing hands. "This is a simple misunderstanding, nothing more. I'm sure that once Mr Drake makes an *effort*--" Bobby squirmed under his gaze "--that his second introduction to Michael will go much better."

"Oh dear," tisked Hank. He went over to the bed and raised the sheet. "It's not the end of the world, you know."
Michael turned away. "I never wanted to hurt anyone," he said.
"There's no lasting harm," Hank assured. "In fact, the Professor is sorting everything out as we speak. Everything's going to be fine."
"I scared him," said Michael.
There was a rustling of sheets as Hank checked some monitors. When he turned back, Michael was back under the sheet.
Hank sighed and pulled it back down. "Stop that."
"But I need to make it so I don't hurt anyone," Michael protested.
Hank rolled his eyes skywards. "I'm going to have to have a *long* talk with Warren, later..." He found his centre and leaned on the sheet, keeping it in place. "You have *not* hurt anyone. Bobby will be *fine*. And, given time, Scott will recover from being a jerk. In the meantime, you need to focus on getting better. Understood?"
Michael nodded. He may have been temporarily miserable, but he understood.
_Well,_ Hank thought. _Isn't this a mighty fine mess?_

[Heheh... Anyone willing to take damage control?]

[Fuzzy]

Originally posted by MoonbeamDancer
Wow, this is good so far. I just have one complaint, and it's for Fuzzy. It's nothing bad, you just need to put quotation marks at the beginning and end of when people are talking, that's all.

*tearing up, blubbering*

mmf- Fuzzy's so-rry... *sniff* Fuzzy make it better... uh-huh-huh...

[InterNutter]

Michael squinted in the sunlight. It had always been filtered through slightly grimy windows, before. His tail expressed his own nervousness by adhering solidly to his backside and curling around the drip stand.
"Are you sure it's okay for me to be out in the cold like this?"
Rogue rolled her eyes at him. "At least ya got warm clothes on, this time. Relax. It ain't long. Ya need to get used to the outside."
"It's good for you," said Bobby. "Vitamin D and all that..."
"What about snow blindness?" said Michael. Snow was *everywhere* and it was pretty bright in the sunshine. "What if I catch cold? Hank said--"
"Hank says a lot of things," soothed Bobby. "He's a doctor, it's his job. And as kids, it's *our* job to bend the rules in as many ways as we can."
Michael thought about that. "I don't know. I'm in enough trouble already... I don't wanna make more."
"Then build a snowman, for cryin' out loud," said Rogue.
"Here? On the balcony?"
"We ain't goin' anywhere else," said Rogue. "We'll do miniature ones on the balcony. As practice."

Four hours later, after Michael had got tired and had to be escorted back to the infirmary, Scott Summers ventured on to that very same balcony with an introspective mood and a large mug of coffee. He was almost in the zen of drinking coffee on a snow-covered balcony when he noticed the little figures. The first few were clumsy snowball-snowmen, with raisins for eyes and toothpick arms. One even bore a Mr PotatoHead hat. Then they started getting sophistocated, more definition and form. Each had a name drawn in near them.
There was Blob, chosen for his resemblance to a snowball, then Pyro, and Rogue, Bobby, the Professor in an armchair, Jean, Hank and--
For some reason, *his* portrait had "doofus-head" written in the snow nearby.
That little freak was thumbing his nose at him!

[Nandireya]

Michael was glad to be back inside…it was just way too bright outside. And he’d felt too vulnerable…even with Rogue and Bobby there with him. Though he had managed a little artistic release. His art was his escape…the only beauty he was capable of.

He sighed as he headed towards the infirmary.

“Michael?” A voice called to him. He turned to see Xavier wheeling down the hallway.

“Yes…?” He asked, a little wary.

“It’s good to see you up and about…” He smiled up at the young mutant as he drew level with him. “You did very well out there…I know how uncomfortable you were…”

“You do…?” Michael took a step back.

Xavier tapped his temple. “It is my power, after all…”

Michael’s eyes widened. “You can read my mind?”

“I can…” He smiled. “But I haven’t…it’s an invasion of your privacy…some things are just impossible to miss…and from what Rogue has told me…it’s surprising you went out there at all…”

Michael lowered his head. “I did it mostly for them…Bobby felt so bad for reacting like he did when he saw me…and Rogue…” He sighed wistfully. Xavier smiled knowingly, but Michael didn’t notice. “She just want so much for me…”

“We all do…”

“Except maybe Scott…”

“He’ll come around…” Xavier smiled. “But now that you’re a little stronger…I thought we could discuss your future here…”

“I have a future here?” Michael echoed.

“If you want one…” Xavier turned and gestured for Michael to follow. “Now…if you’ll join me in my office…?” Michael followed timidly in his wake.

Xavier sighed inwardly. So much damage had been done to the boy, by a mother who was trying to protect him. ‘She’d have done better teaching him how to survive in the world…rather than hiding him from it…’ The only thing she’d done right, as far as he could see, was to allow his friendship with Rogue…a friendship that was obviously developing into something far deeper…either of the pair only seemed comfortable when the were in the presence of the other.

And even that, he feared would end in disaster. They were at that age…confused by their feelings…and both painfully aware they couldn’t act on them. He knew what they felt for each other, probably even better than they did themselves. They would kill or die for each other…Michael almost had…

Well…he was going to give them as close to a normal life as he could.

“Now…” He said as he took up his place behind his large, mahogany desk. “As you may be aware…this is a school…a school for gifted youngsters such as yourself. I teach the regular subjects here…but I also provide some more…unorthodox lessons…that is…I will help you master your powers…

“When you’re fully healed…” He looked at the drip stand Michael was still clinging to, like some sort of security blanket. “We’ll run a few tests…physical and scholastic…to find out just where you need help…I take it you’ve never had any formal schooling?”

“Ah…no…” The boy was beginning to look overwhelmed. “I can read…and I know history, geography, science…I read whatever books Mom got for me…”

“Well…” Charles wheeled out from around his desk. “We had better find you a more permanent room…Rogue has already been assigned one…”

“I get a room?” Michael whispered.

“Yes…” Charles smiled. “And don’t worry…I’ll keep you as far away from Scott as I can…”

[idsunki]

(( If someone wanted to do something before late night, just make a note it goes ahead of this one. Sorry for any inconvenience. ))

Rogue sighed and looked over at the clock on her nightstand. Three fourteen a.m. She rolled off the too-comfortable bed and quickly put on her slippers. She cautiously cracked her door open, then quietly slipped out and padded down toward Michael's room.
She wasn't very surprised to see a bit of light streaming from under his door. She knocked softly, and a few moments later the door opened a crack. Michael's glowing eyes peeked out. "Hello, Rogue. Couldn't sleep?"
"No. Can I come in?" There was no way to tell in the darkness, but she could have sworn he was blushing.
"Uh, let me get a shirt on," he explained before shutting the door. She resisted the urge to giggle, but she was more than happy to content herself with the mental image of Michael shirtless. After a quick rustling sound behind the door, it opened all the way.
"Hey," he said, smiling.
"Hey yourself," she replied, before walking in past him. "Not exactly as big as the attic was, is it?" she asked, taking in the room. An unslept-in bed, a chest of drawers that would eventually be filled, an empty desk... and an easel?
"I like it," defended Michael.
Rogue walked over to the easel, not surprised to find a painting being worked on. "I never said I didn't like it," she answered, winking at him over her shoulder.
He smiled and followed her to the canvas. It was a painting of the two of them and Bobby playing in the snow, all done in shades of red.
"A little paranoid Cyclops was spying on us earlier?" Rogue teased.
Michael looked thoughtful and held his chin with one hand, standing in what Rogue thought of as his "artist mode." "No, not really. See, I was trying to figure out why he thought of me the way he does. I thought and I thought, and it kept going around in circles and didn't make any sense. So I thought that maybe it's not the way he thinks of me, but the way he sees me. Then I remembered that because of his power, he always sees red, and I wondered how that would look, so..." his voice trailed off as he finished, and he just gestured to the painting.
Rogue narrowed her eyes, parts of his logic just didn't make sense, but maybe he was right. The innocent picture of three young mutants playing in the snow was cast in a much more sinister light when drawn out in red.
She crossed her arms over her chest, shivering slightly in the cold of the night. She felt more than heard Michael move up behind her and hug her carefully against him.
"You know what I think, Michael?"
"Hmm?"
"I think the next time you see Cyclops, you should punch him right in the face."
"What?"
"Yeah, and then when he's still trying to recover from that, kick him into the next room, teleport behind him, throw him through the wall into the kitchen and bang him over the head with a frying pan."
"But I couldn't..." He stopped, then narrowed his eyes accusingly at her sudden silence. "You were kidding, weren't you?"
"...Maybe," she allowed.
"Maybe? I'll show you maybe!" he declared before tickling her sides and leaping away, a mischievous grin plastered on his blue face. The two laughed well into the early morning, their worries about Cyclopses and Mystiques and Brotherhoods gone, because no matter how bad things might get, they would have each other.

---

Do you realize how many times I had to delete 'Kurt' and put in 'Michael'? Sheesh. Also, I'm none too good at writing the mushy stuff, but we all have to practice sometimes, right? If I screwed up anything, just let me know and I'll edit this to fit.

-idsunki, world's greatest person ever, twenty years running.

[Fuzzy]

(are we ending here? cuz that makes a nice ending, but it leaves out the whole Raven-wants-her-kids-back-Pyro-was-watching-for-them bit)

I know: The End, Part 1

???