Taking Chances

Chapter 1: At Risk

Don't think I haven't had second thoughts about this. Or third or fourth or fifth. He's a wonderful man, but if I'm trying to plan a lifetime with him I want to have a good chance of succeeding in that goal. And since we can't know what the future holds, our love and our determination have to be strong enough to handle changes in circumstances, and in both of us. "Love is not love which alters when it alterations finds." I've gone through huge changes in the past few years between developing telepathy, breaking up with Scott, and venturing out from the protected environment of Xavier's Academy to work at the clinic and to lobby for mutant rights in Washington. With all that, I don't think I've changed half as much as Sasha has. And with his recovery still incomplete, I can be sure he'll change a great deal in the next few years, too, although I can't say in what direction or how much he'll recover.

When I think of what he was like when I met him, or when I see glimpses of the man he used to be before his internment, I'm in awe of the alterations he has undergone. I think of the people he has been, the roles he has had - Olympic skier, news photographer, closet mutant, Belarusian. And then I look at the man I love now, rebuilding his life in a foreign country and under new circumstances. Working and loving and living a seemingly normal life, but who but me knows how often he wakes up screaming in the middle of the night? It's those moments in the dark, holding the man I love as he trembles uncontrollably and his memories flood both of our brains with pain and fear, that have made most of an impression on me. Sharing that with him binds him to me at the same time that it makes me realize how uncertain our future is unless we two can believe in an ever-fixed mark. And for a long time I worried that I couldn't believe in it, not enough.

Ask anyone who knows me and they'll say that Jean Grey is pragmatic to a fault, not prone to romantic notions. It's a characteristic that has suited me well as a doctor and on the team, but it's not something I've cultivated in myself. It's just the way I am. I've never believed in happily ever after in some fairy tale way, not even when I was a little girl. Well, if you ask my mother, I never was a little girl - she claims I was born old. Anyway, I've never been much for romantic idealism and I sure don't believe in love conquers all. And I've seen enough of trauma victims these past few years to know some of what Sasha has in store for him. What we have in store for us. It gives me pause. Still, I do think two reasonably compatible people who love each other can manage to overcome a lot of obstacles and stay fulfilled in a relationship, if they really work at it. Well, they can if they're both pretty emotionally healthy. And when you're in love with someone who was imprisoned and tortured, that's the big question. It's truly not one I think I can answer at this point, but to some extent it doesn't matter. I know him better than anyone else does. I know what they did to him and what the results were and how far he's come since then. I can't know how much more he can recover, but I do believe that what I love about him is what is essentially Sasha. The rest of it is somehow layered over that. So, I'm not sanguine that things will work out for us, but I still feel I have to try, have to give it all I've got. I owe it not just to Sasha, but to myself.

It's definitely not the position I expected to be in now. We're all the product of our experiences, our futures affected by what came before. Ten years with Scott - ten years that were supposed to be forever - left their mark on me in so many ways that I'm sure I'm not even aware of all of them. But I'm aware of a lot and have certainly known that my decisions on love and life are informed by what happened the first time I loved big and deep.

I didn't take a vow of celibacy or anything when things unraveled with Scott, but I promised myself I'd go for somebody simpler next time. Not simple as in stupid, just uncomplicated. Of course I didn't even realize just how complicated Scott was at the time. Still, I spent a few years with a guy who tries to take responsibility for everyone and everything in a vain attempt to make up for the fact that he can't control his own eyes. An experience like that can really make you appreciate the simpler types. And it was simple types I dated first after Scott, and a simple type I thought I'd end up with. I was so focused on looking for someone as unlike Scott as I could imagine that it took me over a year - and several men - before I decided that I don't want simple. Scott broke my heart, but the guys who came after him bored me, and in the long run that was worse.

Believe me, I'm not saying that all that time with Scott was a horror or anything. Mostly, I really cherish the time we had together. I know now that it never could have worked for us. We're never going to be lovers again, but I'll always love him. I say that now without sadness, without pain, although it hurt like hell for the first few months. Partly it doesn't hurt anymore because I do love Sasha now. I don't have that empty feeling inside that gnawed at me for ages after we broke up. Maybe it's also partly because I know now that I can count on always being loved by Scott, too.

There are lots of different kinds of love. The way I look at it, a combination of circumstances threw us into a kind that wasn't going to work for us. At first I blamed him for lying to me, but eventually I came to realize that his dishonesty was first and foremost in lying to himself. Plus, it's hard to stay mad at someone who's as consumed with remorse as he was. How could I beat someone up who was so absorbed with self-condemnation? It seemed sort of superfluous.

And although certainly the insurmountable obstacle to Scott and me staying together was his homosexuality, I can't say that there weren't other issues or that it was all him. He fell in love with a telekinetic and found himself living with a telepath. No matter how close two people are, you need some privacy in your own head. He had had lots of practice with shielding his thoughts from years of filial devotion to Charles, but it's really different when you're trying to keep some thoughts private from someone you're making love to, someone you're sleeping with, someone you're sharing so much with. It's so ironic that just as Scott was letting me in more and more, letting me see the insecurity behind all that control, I started hearing his thoughts even when he didn't want me to.

We both handled that badly. Not that there were any great secrets he was broadcasting - the big secret was still so hidden in his brain that he didn't even know it himself, not yet. But there are all sorts of little things in daily life that it's just best not to know too much about what your partner's thinking. If I ask if I look fat in my new jeans, I'm not really looking for an honest answer. If Scott is kissing me and his mind wanders to the mission we were just on or the class he's teaching tomorrow morning, I'd rather not know.

I think we both would have realized all that and adjusted accordingly, with me learning when to *not* use my telepathy and Scott learning when to use his shields, but as my telepathic powers developed fairly suddenly, it took us by surprise. So we ended up having all these petty fights where I got mad about things he was thinking and he got mad that I knew them. As we got more accustomed to dealing with my newly developing powers, things calmed down between us. Scott learned to use his mental shields more often and I learned to not mention it if I accidentally caught a thought not intended for me. And we both really enjoyed the closeness of having a mental link, of being able to talk to each other without others knowing what we were saying, or without even being in the same place.

Scott always said that was the best thing about having a telepathic lover - being able to talk to each other all the time. It was a huge help for Sasha and me, too, particularly as he was learning English. Anyone meeting Sasha now would be very surprised to know that as recently as a year ago he really couldn't speak English well; now his English is accented but amazingly fluent and colloquially American. But when he first came here he could function as needed for short conversations, particularly if they concerned his career, but he really couldn't express complex ideas or speak comfortably at length in English.

Mostly we spoke French as we were getting to know each other. I had taken French in high school and college and he was quite fluent, having done most of his training in Switzerland, but it was still a struggle communicating in what was a foreign language for both of us. But telepathy knows no language differences and as we struggled to speak in words in French, in English and even the few phrases of Russian and Belarusian he taught me, our minds spoke to each other with perfect ease.

He told me everything. Hank was Sasha's doctor and he politely and gently asked questions about Sasha's injuries and did what he could for him. Charles tried to find out more, working with Sasha to uncover and deal with the memories of that horrible period of his life. Sasha talked reluctantly to them both, sharing what he felt he had to, but holding much back, despite their calm, helpful questioning.

But there was no reluctance with me. I wasn't his physician or his counselor, just his friend and later his lover. He desperately needed to talk and needed to trust someone, particularly after Kolya's death, when he truly felt he'd lost his last link with his homeland and with his childhood. Perhaps I was just in the right place at the right time; perhaps he responded to me because he felt nothing could shock me, with my medical training and X-Men experience. Whatever his reasons, he kept nothing from me. Not the fear, not the remembered pain, not the shame, not the survivor's guilt. And, sharing telepathically, I didn't just hear about it but understood it and felt it and experienced some of it myself. And it grappled him to me with hoops of steel. I loved him more and more with every revelation and cried harder inside for his suffering with each horrific detail. As we got so close to each other that life without Sasha seemed almost unimaginable, I simultaneously was becoming more and more aware of the huge challenges we'd have as a couple if we did choose to marry. Could someone with his history live a normal life? Work? Be able to function as a parent? There was no way to know in advance.

So it was a hard decision. Could I really commit myself to life with someone who was clearly so damaged by the imprisonment and torture he'd suffered? Could I wholeheartedly promise to love him forever when I didn't even know what life with him would be like in the long term? Could I build a life and a family with someone who might always shake uncontrollably when certain seemingly innocuous sounds or smells bring back a vivid and mind-shattering memory? Could I trust that someone with such profound symptoms of post-traumatic stress could be an effective parent? It was a huge struggle within me, and one I didn't share with Sasha, feeling I was protecting him from my indecision.

I didn't want Sasha to think I didn't have the faith in him that I'd need to marry him, so I never talked to him about the difficulty I was having trying to decide whether to commit myself to him. And I knew I'd feel disloyal talking to anyone else about my struggle, so I basically sat with the dilemma and just processed it alone. It took close to a year of living together, a year of love and rebuilding, of physical and emotional healing, of adjusting and learning and of remembered terror that woke us both in the middle of the night. And when the decision finally came to me it was like an epiphany. I just knew that we were meant for each other after all, that I truly could marry him and willingly promise "until death do us part." It was so clear to me that we'd just deal with whatever happened as best we could, but we were in this for good and should show that to the world through marriage. It seems monumentally egotistical of me looking back, but it never occurred to me that he might not be similarly willing.

My epiphany - and subsequent disappointment - happened in the middle of what had started as a terrible night. We'd had a long day and had both fallen asleep within minutes of getting into bed. Soon Sasha was having a nightmare - thrashing about in bed as he dreamed of torture and terror, his autonomic nervous system galvanized by the dream, sending his heart racing and his body into a cold sweat. The setting, though, wasn't the mutant resettlement camp he'd been interned in, but Xavier's Academy - our home. His subconscious mind was telling him that nowhere was safe.

Usually his nightmares wake me, but I must have been really tired that night and instead the dream invaded my subconscious mind and I shared his terror. Sound asleep, I saw Sasha captured and tortured and could find no one to help me retake the Academy from the invaders. I ran through empty halls, the school seemingly deserted but for Sasha and me and the men who'd grabbed him. I tried desperately to contact Scott and the rest of the team so we could rescue Sasha from the invaders who had taken over our school and home. Nobody answered my telepathic pleas and it was just as I realized that I was totally on my own that we both woke up, shaken and sweating.

Sasha reached over to hold me and thanked me for waking him from the nightmare. I told him I hadn't and that I'd been dreaming as well. We looked at each other and realized we'd shared the dream. Neither of us said anything for a while, just breathing hard and calming down as the nightmare receded. Sweating and overheated, I threw off the covers. I sat up and looked down at Sasha, beginning to relax now. Leaning over, I took his soft penis into my mouth, cradling his scrotum in my hand. "Is this okay?" I asked, telepathically, worried that he might still be too shaken to think of sex.

He didn't need to answer, as his erection growing in my mouth answered for him. All thoughts of the nightmare driven from my conscious mind, I felt myself getting wet as the "quiet mystery" of transformation in my mouth continued. "Move around this way, so I can do you, too," his brain said to mine, and I climbed on top of him, spreading my legs over his mouth.

Soon he was teasing my lips with his tongue and sucking and kissing with his lips while I sucked on his hard shaft. It felt marvelous. I don't usually like sixty-nine - it seems like too much happening at once or something and I find I can't take it for long. But this time I was totally into it, sucking hard on him as I rode his face, feeling my juices dripping on him as he licked and kissed. I still had one hand on his cock as I sucked him and the other was on his thigh, anchoring myself as I rocked against his wet and willing mouth. I could barely tell where his body left off and mine began and we moved in perfect rhythm, our bodies and our minds giving and receiving love and pleasure in ever-increasing cascades of sensation and telepathic love notes. He pushed one finger into my anus and kept working me with his tongue while I moved rhythmically on him.

I came so hard and so long it seemed like it would never stop. But just when I thought I couldn't take it anymore I could feel the waves of sensation lessening, each contraction a little less intense than the last, like the aftershocks that follow an earthquake. I sucked harder on Sasha's cock, squeezing the base with my hand, tasting his hot semen as the end of my orgasm seemed to trigger the start of his.

And then we were lying side-by-side again, sweating and panting but this time with smiles on our faces. "What did I ever do without you?" he asked, pulling me close.

"I can't imagine," I replied.

He laughed. "Me, neither." And, after a pause, "I'm so glad we're together, Jean."

"Me, too. Let's get married." I didn't even know I was going to say it until I did, but as soon as I said it, I knew I meant it. I knew it was right, knew I was ready to take that big step. I was over my doubts about Sasha and me. It was time to do it. Well, that's what I thought until I looked at the expression on Sasha's face.

Chapter 2: Chance Encounter

I had a meeting with Charles right after my poetry class and headed over to his office, trying to switch gears as I walked. I needed to get my mind off of Keats and Shelley and onto projects and expenditures for the Xavier Foundation's next fiscal year. Charles, Hank and I are the trustees of the Foundation, but with Hank in Washington on a long term assignment, Charles and I are pretty much on our own. Hank had suggested that he resign his trustee position and have Jean take it over while he's away. Charles and I discussed that plan, but we both felt that she's so overextended these days. Jean had already taken over Hank's classes and patients, and is kept very busy as well with her own medical work and research, so we thought we should just handle the foundation's business by ourselves and consult with Hank by phone as needed. It has proven to be a workable solution but I have to say that I'm really coming to appreciate him a lot more in his absence and feeling sorry for having taken his contributions for granted sometimes when he was here.

For instance, he always has been the one of the three of us to handle the money side of the Foundation. Charles and I argued and discussed goals and projects incessantly and when we'd finally come to some sort of agreement on what we wanted to do, Hank would tell us if we could afford it. Well, with our Dr. McCoy working for the National Institutes of Health for a year, that part was left to me. Finance has never been my forte and I was absorbed with trying to remember everything we needed to cover at the meeting and kind of distracted. So, I almost didn't see Billy Halverson coming out of Charles's office as I approached.

"Scott!" he said and clapped an arm around my shoulder, big smile on his face. I was glad to see him. Glad to see him looking happy to see me, too. Things had been back on an even keel between Billy and me for a while, but I still worried a little that I'd blown my chance for the close and easy relationship we'd had at the beginning of our acquaintance. After being an unwitting witness to, and catalyst of, the drama between Logan and me last summer, Billy had seemed pretty wary of me at first. Well, no wonder. He had had a tense time for a while there, worried that I'd find out about his previous encounter with Logan, worried that it would make a difference in what had become as close a mentor/protégée relationship as any I've had with students here. His evident and growing crush on me only complicated matters more. When he saw Logan's misunderstanding of my relationship with Billy and the fallout between the two of us - I'm sure he found the whole scene intensely embarrassing and unpleasant.

I felt terrible about how he'd been treated and blamed myself alone. I had put my own anger and jealousy first, not Bill's comfort. As teacher and as field leader I've always known that the welfare of those I'm responsible for comes first, not my own feelings. I was kicking myself for having not only let Bill down but also having failed to live up to my own standards. Still, I felt it would compound the error to make a big deal of it with Bill. Self-flagellation might make me feel better, but it was only going to embarrass him further.

So, I'd apologized briefly and then just worked on treating him exactly as if nothing had happened, having decided "least said soonest mended" would be my watchword. It seemed to work. During his last two weeks at the school he managed to relax bit-by-bit with me until it seemed we were pretty much on the same footing we had been before that time at the pool. And he's been back for a few days every couple of months and always seems genuinely glad to see me. "I didn't know you were here," I said, returning the hug.

"Just got in. I'll be around the next couple of days. Hey, there's something I want to talk to you about. Do you have a few minutes?"

"Well, I've got a Foundation meeting now, but I'm free after that. How about my office at 3:00?" It was agreed and Bill headed off and I went into Charles's office, sighing as I turned my thoughts back to Foundation finances.

The meeting ran late and I apologized to Billy, but he said he'd had a fine time reading while he waited in my office. We chatted in a desultory way, talking about goings on at school and his plans for college in the fall. After a while, I asked him what he'd wanted to talk to me about.

"Well, something happened last time I was home," he said, looking down, running one finger along one of the gashes on my desk. I waited for him to tell me. After a while he looked up and said, "I came out to my mother." And then, seeing the expression on my face, "You're surprised, aren't you?"

"Yes, very. Last time we talked about this, you said you didn't think you ever could. You said that Eastwood, North Dakota wasn't a place where a woman could live with having a gay son." I paused for a minute, realizing I wasn't sure just what he meant. "That's what you're talking about, isn't it? You came out to her as gay? Not as a mutant?"

He gave me that shy half-smile, looking down. "Well, both really." Looking up to see me even more surprised, he laughed. "I don't know what possessed me. In for a penny, in for a pound, I guess."

"How did she take it?"

"Well, that's kind of what I wanted to talk to you about. Not good. Well, that's no surprise. She cried and cried and kept saying she doesn't know where she went wrong with me. She doesn't want anybody to know, not even my brothers and sisters."

"That you're gay?"

"That I'm a mutant. She didn't say a word about me being gay. It's like she's pretending I never even said it."

"Maybe she feels like she's got to deal with one thing at a time? It's not easy for parents to assimilate information like this. It kind of strikes at their concepts of who their kids are, and maybe even who they are, too. It's tough, I know, Bill. But lots of parents do have a hard time at first but come around when they learn a little about the subject. Subjects, I guess, if we're talking both kinds of coming out."

"I know. And she does want to learn. She talked to Doc Sherve."

"He's your town doctor?" He nodded. "And sort of a family friend, too? It sounded like your mom got pretty close to him during your father's illness." Billy's father had died a little over a year ago, after a long and painful battle against lung cancer.

"Yeah, I think she relied on him a lot during that time. Dad did, too. You know, he could have gone elsewhere for treatment. Well, he did for a while - he went to the Mayo Clinic for some of it. But only when Doc Sherve told him to. He just wanted to be treated at home, with his own doctor."

"I can see that. I'd rather be treated by Jean and Hank than go to some specialist. And it's not just for worrying that some other doctor isn't going to be comfortable treating a mutant, particularly one with a deadly power he can't control." Worrying about embarrassing Billy with the self-pitying tone of what I'd just said, I switched gears. "So, do you think it's a good thing she talked to the doctor?"

"Yeah, probably. It means she's not so ashamed of me that she couldn't tell anyone. And it's an opening, you know? She can find out more about what it means from him."

"What it means to be gay?"

"No, to be a mutant. Not that he knows a lot about it, but more than mom."

"So what does this Doctor Sherve's attitude towards mutants seem to be?"

"Hard to say. Like I said, he doesn't know a lot. Doc was very surprised that he could have a mutant patient and not know it. I tried to explain that some mutations - like my psionic powers - just don't show, except in CAT scans and things like that. I told him I wouldn't expect him to know from the ordinary exams he gave me or from treating me for childhood illnesses and sprains. I told him I didn't even know myself for a long time."

"Well, I'm glad to hear you were talking with him about it. Good that you opened a dialogue. Did you tell him you're gay?"

"Yeah. And that my mother acted like I never said it. He said pretty much the same thing you did, that it's too much new and difficult information for her to hear at once. He said to me 'I know you can't help it'."

"About being a mutant?"

"About both - being a mutant and being gay." He laughed at my expression. "Am I confusing you here?"

"A little. It's just hard to keep track of two comings out at once. I'll cope. Anyway, how did it feel when he said he knew you couldn't help it?"

"Well, kind of mixed. On the one hand he's acknowledging that it is just part of me, that I didn't just choose to be different to make my mother miserable or anything. But on the other hand, it's only something you'd say about something you think is bad, you know? Nobody tells me I can't help being smart. Or tall, for that matter."

"Yeah, it's kind of a loaded comment. And you think his opinion is going to carry a lot of weight with your mother?"

"With my mother, with my brothers and sisters, with the whole town. And the towns nearby that don't have doctors. And the farms. You have no idea what a doctor's position is like in a place like that."

I smiled. "You forget - I'm a small town boy myself. The doctor is among the town's royalty, right?"

"Kind of. I think it's more than that. And I bet it's different where I'm from. Partly because it's so hard to get doctors to settle out there. Doc Sherve's the only MD in a 40-mile radius. There are a couple of physicians' assistants, a few RNs, but he's the only doctor. So he kind of does everything: delivers babies, vaccinates kids, takes care of dying truckers, calms down women whose sons have just come out to them." His wry grin showed he had some perspective on this.

"And he pretty much expects everyone to listen to him," he continued. "Well, they do mostly. They depend on him to keep them alive and healthy, they're going to listen. Look, let me tell you something that happened a couple years ago - it sort of shows what it's like being a doctor there.

"I heard it from this girl I know from Thompson." Billy got a kind of far away look in his eyes. "Our town's small - 1200 people, but Thompson's not even a quarter of that. And almost all farms, really. So, anyway, there was a bad fire in a silo near Thompson - nobody knows how it started. Dry weather, lots of wheat in a silo, kind of an accident waiting to happen. The farmer was trapped inside, probably overcome with the smoke. And somebody called Doc Sherve, since he's the nearest doctor."

Telepaths are great storytellers. The far away look intensified and I knew to let down my mental shields. A clear picture of a burning grain silo entered my head, along with a crowd of worried neighbors and a crusty old doctor driving up in a fast car.

"It took a while to get there and by the time he arrived there was really no chance this guy was still alive. The fire was pretty much out, just smoldering, you know? Well, still pretty dangerous. And hard and scary, to climb all the way up the silo to get to this guy. Doc's not an athletic kind of guy - I think he'd find just the climb real hard. And it would be one thing if Doc thought he was saving somebody, but he pretty much must have known he was just going up there to declare the man dead.

"So, the whole town is standing there watching and he says 'Who's going with me? I need someone to carry my bag.' And the way this girl told me, there was an awkward silence because not one of the townsfolk steps forward. Too scared, I guess. And then this guy nobody even knows, who was just passing through, says 'I will.'" Billy paused and the picture in my mind's eye grew stronger. The silent townspeople shuffling their feet, looking at the ground, and this rugged-looking stranger stepping up - long hair and jeans and Native American features. Looking straight at the doctor as he says he'll help him. Billy continued talking. "So he asks for a length of rope and ties Doc's bag to it and slings it over his shoulder. And goes in front of Doc, kind of talking him up as he goes, a rung or two ahead of him.

"They get to the top and find the guy who was trapped and like they thought, he was already dead. Doc examined him and declared him dead and then they used the rope to lower him down and came down themselves. Well, now that the job was done, Doc was hopping mad, at least the way this girl told me. He just totally reamed the whole town out. Told them that they should be ashamed of themselves, letting some stranger do what they wouldn't do for their own neighbor. And they just took it - stood there apologetically with their heads down while he's yelling at them." Billy, having finished his story, looked me in the eye, bringing me back to the present. "Do you get the point?"

"Yeah, the townspeople listened to him. They didn't get mad back - they're dependent on him and they pretty much have to take it if he's going to scold them." I paused. "And he's got a huge ego and huge sense of entitlement to go ahead and do that - just tell them what they should have done like a father scolding a bunch of errant children. Still, going up there was an awfully brave thing to do. Particularly since, as you point out, he couldn't save the guy, anyway. He sounds like a pretty forceful and complex guy."

Billy nodded. "He is. But it's more than just that he yelled at them. It's all about what your place is, I think. Where I come from, everybody knows their place, knows what they should and shouldn't do. Usually that's what guides everything you do in life. But those people in Thompson were too scared to remember their place, so they didn't do what they should have done. So, some guy whose place wasn't climbing up a burning silo - for someone who wasn't his neighbor - had to do it. And that got Doc Sherve mad as hell because it was *his* place to tell them when they didn't do what they should.

"But his place was more than that. He wouldn't think he was brave to go up there, 'cause it was his place to do that. I'm sure he wished he could save that guy, but that's only part of his job, part of his place. He's the doctor; the doctor declares people dead; so he goes. I truly think it wouldn't even occur to him not to go." He paused, and smiled again. "But it also wouldn't occur to him to carry his own bag."

I laughed. "Okay, I think I get it. He's a pretty formidable guy and he's only going to be a help to you if he feels he ought to be, if he thinks it's his place to be, right? And he's sort of somewhere between town royalty and town god. So, do you think he's willing to be educated a little more?"

"That's what I wanted to talk to you about. Yeah, I do think so. He seemed interested - he asked me for stuff to read."

"Would it help if I called him?"

Billy looked down, a little embarrassed. "I think he'd listen to another doctor more." Then looked up. "Sorry. I'm sure you'd say lots of good stuff."

"No, don't be sorry. It's a really good point. Let's talk to Jean about it. She can do the doctor-to-doctor bit. And talk about her research, too. And I'm sure she'd be glad to talk to your mother, too, if you think that would help. She could even offer the 'been-there-done-that' bit on finding out someone you love is gay." He thanked me for understanding and agreed that talking to Jean would be a good next step. "But don't let her in on this community-doctor-as-god concept, okay?" I added with a smile. "I don't think I can handle another goddess in our midst."

Chapter 3: Risk Assessment

He wouldn't let me pick him up at the airport. It's no trouble at all for me to do it. He was flying in on a Wednesday and my plans were to spend the whole day in the office, doing phone interviews and writing. I told him I'd pick him up and then just go back to work after I dropped him off at my place. National Airport is within the District's borders and easy to get to at lunchtime.

Yes, I still call it "National Airport," more than ten years after they changed the name. I worry that it makes me sound like a stereotypical member of the "liberal" press, but I can't bring myself to call it "Ronald Reagan". And, sure, my politics are fairly left of center on most things, but that's not why I do it. It's just knowing that my Red Diaper Baby mother would kill me if she ever heard the words "Ronald Reagan" pass my lips without a curse preceding or following them. Well, that and never having quite gotten over the conviction that no matter what I say or where I say it, my mother hears.

So, regardless of what you want to call the airport, it would have been easy to pick him up. And he always meets me when I come to visit him. It was a fairly rare event that he would be flying by plane, anyway. When he told me he'd have to travel the way the rest of us do, I kind of looked forward to being the guy waiting at baggage claim for a change. Plus I figured we could get a quickie in before I had to get back to the office. I didn't get why he wanted to just meet me at my place when I was done with work, but I agreed since he seemed so adamant.

I walked into my apartment after work and took one look at him and it suddenly became clear. He was lying on the couch, looking like he'd ended up there because he couldn't walk the few more steps to the bedroom. His skin had an unnatural pallor; his breathing was ragged; and he was clutching his midsection with both arms. "Fuck, Jean-Paul! What happened to you?"

"I'm okay," he lied.

"You are not. You know I wouldn't have left you alone if I saw how bad you are, right? That's why you didn't want me to meet you at National. You shouldn't have been on your own like this." I knelt down beside him, brushed matted hair away from his sweat-covered face. He had a purplish bruise over one cheekbone and the other eye was blackened, looking like it was only today he could open it again. His upper lip was bruised and broken, with swelling that clearly had been worse. Looking just at his face, someone might think he had been in a bar brawl two or three days before.

He smiled weakly. "I'm so happy to see you, too, Adam." I didn't smile back. "I'll be okay," he added.

"Do you need a doctor?" He shook his head. I reached to unbutton his shirt. "Can I do this?"

"Okay, but I'm not sure I'm quite up to sex right now," he answered, still trying to smile.

"Idiot. I just want to see what it looks like this time."

"Because you love me for the dangers I have pass'd?" trying for a joking tone, but then he gasped when I undid the third button.

"I'm sorry. Did I do something?" I moved back.

"No, it's okay. It's just... kind of soon. Maybe I should have waited until the weekend after all. Here, let me do the rest." He slowly unbuttoned the rest of his shirt.

The effort seemed to exhaust him. His head fell back, eyes closed and mouth open. I couldn't see much, even without the shirt. He had a large bandage wrapped around him, from the bottom of his breastbone until just above the navel.

A few of his ribs were taped, too. And now that I was over the shock and examining him a little more carefully, I saw the cast on his left foot - the one injury he'd told me about - and the crutches propped against the wall.

"They really did a number on you this time, Jean-Paul. No wonder you couldn't fly."

"Well, the broken foot throws my balance off, even without the rest of it. I just can't stay aloft."

I bent down to kiss him, then thought better of it. "Is there anywhere it doesn't hurt?"

He touched his forehead, saying, "Right here," and I kissed him there gently.

"Why didn't you tell me how bad it was? We could have waited to get together. I could have come to see you in Toronto over the weekend."

He shrugged. "It sounded important and you said you wanted to talk face-to-face." He tried for a smile again. "Besides, I wasn't doing anything."

"Given your current condition, I think it best not to hit you." I took another look at him. "Are you sure you don't need a doctor? Why don't I call my doctor's office and see if they can see you?" He shook his head again. "Don't pull this stoic mutant superhero shit with me, Jean-Paul. I can't bear it. You look like death warmed over. Did the Alpha Flight doctor even know you were coming here?"

He looked kind of sheepish. "I might have neglected to mention it."

"I'm calling." I started to get up, but he touched my arm.

"No, don't. Adam, does your doctor even treat mutants?"

"Of course. What do you take me for? You think I'd go somewhere that wouldn't?"

"How do you know? They don't always have signs in the window, you know. Have you ever seen a mutant in the waiting room? Or on the staff?"

I thought about it for a minute. "No, I haven't. But not every mutant is so conspicuous. No one would know you're a mutant by looking at you. Maybe half their practice is mutants and I just don't know it." He didn't say anything. "Okay, you're right. I don't know. I'm just assuming that my doctor and her colleagues are decent people, but I have no way of knowing, really. Nobody in the office has made any anti-mutant comments in my presence, but that doesn't necessarily mean they're open-minded about this stuff. And I never asked them and never said my lover's a mutant to see how anyone there reacted. I'm sorry."

"It's okay. I'm just really... tired. And sore. And I just don't want to go somewhere if there's no point."

"You're right. It would be awful to move you in this condition, get all the way there and then get turned away."

"Oui, but it's not even just that. Maybe the medical practice is willing to take mutant patients but that doesn't mean they know what they're doing, hein? My physiology is different than yours, you know that. Alpha Flight team physicians understand my body - some random doctor here just isn't going to." He took a deep breath and kind of winced as he did. "I just want to rest here now, okay? I'll call my own doctor back home if I'm not feeling better in a while."

"A little far for a house call."

"I know, but if he thinks I should see someone, maybe he can recommend somebody local."

"Hey, Hank McCoy's in DC, you know. He's living right near here - I could ask him to come over and take a look at you."

He didn't answer at first. "Okay, Adam," he said, finally. "Maybe. Let's just wait a while and see how I feel. I guess I overdid it, but if I can rest a while I think I'll be fine."

"I'm sorry, Jean-Paul. Really, it could have waited. I wouldn't have asked you to come here if I'd known."

"I know that. I'm glad to be here, vraiment. I want to know what you didn't want to tell me on the phone." He was smiling, expectantly. "Qu'est-ce qui se passe?"

"Well," I began. "Are you sure you want to talk now? It can wait. Do you want to sleep?"

"No. Tell me - I'm dying of curiosity. You sounded so excited on the phone."

I sat cross-legged on the floor, moved to take his hand and then thought better of it. "I am excited, but I'm not sure you will be." He looked a little wary. "Well, remember that story I did on single parent adoption last year?"

"Oui. Sandwiched in between the series on mutants in Belarus and the article on gay government workers. I was thinking if the next one was on skiing it would be a 'This is your life, Jean-Paul Beaubier' year." I laughed. "You didn't need to write all that stuff, Adam, to win my love. I was lost before we even met." I laughed again and he added, smiling, "You never know when I'm not joking, do you?"

"I didn't decide on the assignments, you know."

"Avoiding the question?"

"No, getting back to the original one. So, anyway, I did that article on single parent adoption and interviewed a bunch of people - adoptive parents, birth mothers, agency staff, adoption facilitators." I looked at him sidelong, taking a deep breath. "And I've stayed in touch with this one woman who runs an agency in Vermont. She kind of specializes in working with birth mothers who want their babies adopted by gay men - single or couples. It was a little too much of a tangent to put into the story, but I thought what she's doing is really interesting and it might make for a good story by itself later."

"But you never wrote it?"

"No. I thought of suggesting it to Marv but I'm a little leery of recommending that I do the stories with the gay themes. I don't want to get typecast as the queer reporter, you know?"

"I can see that. Still, it is an interesting idea. So, why would birth mothers want their babies adopted by gay men in particular?"

"Well, often for not very good reasons. Stereotypical ones - like they think the child will grow up in a home with beautiful furnishings, or learn all the lyrics to 40 years of Broadway show tunes or have her hair done really well." He laughed at that. "And sometimes it's for kind of weird psychological reasons, I think. Like not wanting to be replaced by another mother. This whole adoption decision is so emotionally fraught, n'est-ce pas?"

"Oui. On both ends of it. In some sense I felt from the first time I saw Joanne that she was my baby, that adoption was just a formality. But at the same time it seemed like such a huge decision, such a commitment, and I didn't know if I could do it. Does that make any sense?"

"Perfect sense, my love." I reached over and ran my fingers through his thick, dark hair. "So, anyway, there are all sorts of reasons for birth mothers to prefer gay adoptive parents. Of course, it's very few of them, but enough to keep Rhonda - my contact in Vermont - pretty busy. And we've just been emailing and talking on the phone a lot lately, really getting beyond the professional relationship and becoming friends. It turns out we have a lot in common. She grew up three subway stops away from me and we went to the same high school and college, although our paths never crossed. So, we started by talking about being transplanted Brooklynites and ended up having long conversations into the night, talking about our lives, about hopes and dreams. You know, that kind of thing." Starting to feel a little awkward and embarrassed, I found myself looking away from Jean-Paul's intent gaze. He was clearly wondering where this was going.

"Anyway," I continued, "Rhonda called me recently to talk about a particular birth mother she's working with. I do think that one of the really scary parts of this whole thing is that someone can think she wants to make an adoption plan and then change her mind afterwards. I know that wasn't a risk with Joanne since the mother died, but it has been really heartbreaking for some people who felt - like you did - that the baby was truly theirs in some cosmic way from the start. I've talked to Rhonda a lot about the men she works with who don't get to bring the baby home after all. Or even worse - do bring the baby home and then have to give him or her back to the birth mother.

"So, it's something we've talked about a lot, something she worries about and so do I. But this one woman she's working with is really low risk that way, I think. She has kids already and really can't care for them. Her husband's dead and his parents are going to take care of her three children. But this pregnancy was the result of a brief affair shortly before his death and the grandparents don't want this baby. So she seems really sure that she wants the baby adopted. And her reasons for wanting a gay adoptive parent seem reasonable - she has close ties to the queer community and feels it's unfair that it's harder for gay men to adopt."

"And?" The wary look was intensifying.

"And the bio father - who is totally ready to give up parental rights, as well - is a mutant. It's part of what makes this baby hard to place, part of why she went to Rhonda instead of a bigger agency."

"What's the other part?"

I took a deep breath. "The mother has HIV - full blown AIDS. That's how she comes to be so connected to the gay community - she has gotten a lot of services from gay agencies. And it's another reason she's looking for a gay adoptive father. She was turned away by the first few agencies she tried and didn't want to go with public adoption."

He started shaking his head back and forth and then stopped, clearly in pain. He answered in words instead. "No, Adam, no. Absolutely not. I'm not even considering it. You haven't listened to a word I've said if you think I could adopt a baby of an HIV+ birthmother, much less a birthmother with full-blown AIDS. I can't go through that again. I don't know if I can have another child at all - certainly I don't feel ready now. But I know I'm never going to be ready to do it like this. Jamais!" He was almost yelling and the effort caused him to start coughing. That, in turn, must have made the wounds hurt more, because he clutched his midsection again.

"Oh, Jean-Paul, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have brought it up now, not when you're so hurt." I kissed him on the forehead again. "But you're not understanding me. I'm sorry - I wasn't clear. I wasn't suggesting you adopt this baby - I'm thinking of doing it myself. I really do think the chances of her being healthy are very good. The birth mother is on a treatment regimen that has great results - 80% of the babies are HIV-. Even better without breastfeeding and with preventive treatment for the baby after birth.

"I'm sorry - it wasn't the time to talk about it. I just wanted to see if it's something you thought would be too hard for you to be on the periphery of. I mean I know that we don't have the kind of relationship where we'd have a child *together* but it affects your life if your lover has a baby. And given Joanne's death I worried that it would just bring back too many memories for you." I stroked his hair again, looked him in the eye. "And I wanted to talk about it face-to-face because I thought you might be reluctant to tell me if you did have reservations, that you might just feel you had to support me regardless."

He smiled wanly. "I guess you didn't have to worry about that."

"Well, you didn't know what I meant. I'm sorry - I wasn't clear."

"I had no idea you even thought about parenting, Adam."

"I didn't for a long time. I think my life just hasn't been conducive to it, you know? Foreign correspondents rarely have kids, particularly those who move around as much as I did. But now I'm back in the States, pretty settled in DC, it seems. It's a pretty big bureau - there's a lot to do here, without all that traveling. And the Pulitzer really helped, I think. I can sort of make demands I couldn't before, and go somewhere else if they're not met. If I need to kind of stay put for a while I think I can, and that makes it more feasible.

"And maybe I'm just kind of feeling like I'm the last of my line or something - only child of a widowed mother who would pretty much kill for grandchildren. Or feeling some other kind of pull. Maybe loving you makes me more open to other kinds of love? I don't know. I just know it's been on my mind and when Rhonda called I got really excited."

"I can understand all that."

"But Jean-Paul, it's not something I want to do if it's going to hurt us. You're a priority to me."

He smiled broadly at that. "Good to hear, mon amour. And, vraiment, it's not hurt to us as a couple I'm so worried about. It's the hurt you're letting yourself into, hein? Too risky. I really fear it's a decision you'll regret."

"There are risks in everything, love. I'm worried I'll regret it if I decide not to go ahead."

Chapter 4: Risky Business

"How did it go?"

"Okay, I guess. It could have been worse. Well, I haven't quite figured out how it could have been worse, but that's my story and I'm sticking to it."

"Poor Adam! So he wasn't wildly enthusiastic about the idea?"

"No. He thinks I'm out of my mind. Actually, at first he thought I was suggesting *he* adopt the baby and he was furious with me. Once we cleared up the misunderstanding he stopped looking daggers at me and decided I'm out of my mind."

"Oh dear."

"Yeah. I don't know - I guess it wasn't that bad, in the scheme of things. He wasn't saying he'd never see me again if I go ahead and do this crazy thing. But he wasn't saying he'd drop everything and come live with me and have a baby with me, either."

"Did you think that was a possibility?"

"Oh, not really. More of a fantasy than anything else. He always says he doesn't care about the job, really, that he just ended up a superhero because there aren't a lot of career options for mutant high school dropouts. He's suggested lots of times that we should move in together - he always says he could live anywhere. I'm the one who has been resistant to living together, to switching from long distance to full time. So, I sort of built up this whole scenario in my head where he'd say he wanted to move here when I told him about the baby and this time I'd say 'yes'. I don't know what I'm turning into, Rhonda, I swear. Settling down in the States, hoping for a live-in boyfriend, wanting to adopt a baby together. If I start talking about getting a minivan, shoot me, okay?"

"Oh, don't worry that you're turning so conventional. The hoped-for live-in lover isn't exactly the boy next door and the baby you're hoping to adopt has a mutant birth father and a birth mother with AIDS. I don't think I'll see you on the cover of Family Circle any time soon."

"You always say the most reassuring things."

"Not always... Adam, maybe Jean-Paul's right. Maybe this is kind of a crazy idea. How much do you think you were counting on him coming round? Because I don't know that you've thought enough about what a huge change in your life being a single parent of a newborn could be. And particularly a newborn who might have health problems."

"I don't know why you think I haven't given it much thought. I'm not going into this blindly. I've read a ton on pediatric AIDS; I've interviewed parents who are raising kids born with it. And I've looked into the treatment program for pregnant women with HIV. It's got great results - 10 years ago they were saying that 60% of the babies were born healthy but now with the new drugs it's between 80 and 90%."

"Your research is always thorough. Sweetie, I'm not doubting your ability to gather the facts. I'm wondering, though, how prepared you are for the emotional reality. You're the quintessential observer, Adam. That's what makes you so good at what you do. You can make your readers - and even your friends - feel like they were there, like they saw what you saw, heard what you heard. But parenting is participative, Adam, it's not standing by and watching and recording what happens. And it's a constant responsibility - no time off. Is this really something you want to do by yourself?"

"No, it's not. More and more I'm realizing that. It's something I want to do with Jean-Paul. Something's changed in me, Rhonda, and I don't know what. I was totally content with the life I had - good job, good friends, wonderful lover I can see when I want but go home to my own place. And now I'm not content any more. It's not enough for me. I want to be a parent, I want to be *partnered*, not just seeing someone. I want a family."

"With Jean-Paul?"

"With Jean-Paul. But I think it's just not going to happen. He's still so traumatized by Joanne's death. Maybe it's something he'll never get over."

"So, what do you want to do?"

"Well, I could put off the baby thing and just concentrate on work and my relationship with Jean-Paul, but I really don't want to. And I just have this feeling that this is the baby for me."

"It's not a sure thing, you know. The birth mother can still change her mind; the baby could be stillborn."

"I know all that, rationally. Still, I just don't believe it. I really feel like this is my baby."

"Oh, Adam. I just hope you're not counting on something and setting yourself up for disappointment."

"Well, I guess we'll see, one way or the other."

"So, do you think you can do this on your own?"

"Well, it's not my first choice, but I think I'll manage. It's not like there are people just lining up there dying to raise a half-mutant, possibly HIV-infected child with me. Well, unless... Hey Rhonda, will you marry me? What are you laughing about? What's wrong with that idea?"

"Well, for starters, I don't think a lesbian bride and a gay groom are exactly the stuff of fairy tale weddings."

"You know what my mother would say."

"Yeah, 'as long as they're both Jewish, what's the problem?' Keep working on that guy of yours, Adam. He might come round."

"This device permits any interested individual to record a communiqué to the attention of Henry McCoy, currently residing in our nation's capital, known to most of the country as 'Washington' and to the local inhabitants as 'DC'. In addition, one may provide information or other intelligence to be passed on to Logan, also known by some as Wolverine, the current, albeit temporary, occupant of my spare bedroom. If you are interested in recording such a missive, please wait until the electronic tonal signal completes and then clearly enunciate your moniker and indicate which of the two residents you wish to contact, as well as any other information you wish to impart."

"How about 'please leave a message after the tone,' Hank? It works for a lot of us, you know. Anyway, could you call and give me a little help with staffing budget projections? I've got about fifty million spreadsheets here but I can't make any sense of them. And tell Logan I said 'hi', too, and it would be nice to hear from him sometime. Bye... Oh, it's Scott."

"Mrs. Halverson? This is Jean Grey. I'm a friend of your son Bill."

"Hello, Dr. Grey. Billy told me you'd be calling."

"Is this a convenient time?"

"Yes it's fine... It's very nice of you to call me, but I don't know that there's any point in it, really."

"Well, Billy and Doctor Sherve thought I might be able to answer some questions for you."

"Oh, you've talked to Doc Sherve?"

"Yes, we had a long talk the other day. He's very interested in the research I'm doing on the physiology of the mutant subspecies."

"I see."

"Do you have any questions for me, Mrs. Halverson?"

"I don't think so. Really, I don't want to take up your time."

"I have plenty of time for you. For anyone in Billy's family. We're all just so fond of him here at Xavier's."

"That's very nice to hear."

"He's a fine young man. You should be proud of him."

"Oh, I am. Really."

"He's so caring and thoughtful. And hardworking, too. He was a huge help to us last summer."

"He's all of that, and I've certainly been grateful for his hard work much of the time. I've relied on him a great deal, particularly when his father was sick. And after. Billy kind of became the man of the family."

"Yes, that's the impression I've gotten. These situations are hard on the whole family, Mrs. Halverson. From all Billy's said, it seems like he had a very happy childhood and it sounds like you all did what you had to do... Mrs. Halverson? Do you understand about Billy's gifts?"

"Gifts? Is that what you call it?"

"Gifts or powers, yes, usually. What do you call it?"

"Well, I don't know that I've called it anything. I thought the word was 'mutation', though."

"It's his mutation that gives him his powers, so that's correct, too."

"And there's no way to stop this...mutation? No way to make him normal, again?"

"No, there isn't. His body chemistry has changed. The X gene activates at different ages and in different ways, but the mutation is permanent. He won't change back."

"I see."

"I don't think he'd want to go back, even if he could. He has profound psionic powers, you know. He's working very hard at learning to use them... Mrs. Halverson, are you there?"

"Yes. I'm sorry. I don't know what to say."

"Do you want to tell me what you're feeling?"

"I just want my son back. I want my Billy."

"He's still the same person he always was."

"He wasn't some freak who reads minds. He was a normal boy."

"I really wish you wouldn't look at it that way. What Billy can do - it truly is a gift."

"Easy for you to say in New York. I'm sure lots of things are considered 'gifts' there that we'd rather not have here. I really wish you wouldn't meddle in my family's business... Oh, I'm sorry. That was so rude of me. I'm not like that, usually. I've just felt so out of sorts lately, ever since Billy told me about being a mutant. And... the other thing, too. Do you know about that?"

"I know he's gay, Mrs. Halverson."

"Are you going to tell me that's a gift, too?"

"No. Well, I guess it can be. It can make life harder, but only if people don't accept him for who he is. And that part is similar to being a mutant."

"I don't believe it. I don't believe he's really that way. He's not swishy. He's not girly. He had two varsity letters in high school."

"That doesn't mean anything. Really, it doesn't. Being gay is about who you're attracted to and who you want to love. It's not about masculinity."

"Well, whatever it's about, it's not something that's going to be okay in Eastwood, ND. I know things are different elsewhere, but this is my home. This is Billy's home. If people find out he's like that, there just isn't going to be a home for him here... How come you know so much about this, anyway?"

"A few years ago I found out that someone I love is gay, too. I had to educate myself. I really do know how you feel."

"Are you a mother, Dr. Grey?"

"No, I'm not."

"Then you don't know how I feel."

"Mrs. Halverson?"

"I'm afraid I have a lot to do right now, Dr. Grey. Thank you for calling, but I don't think I have any questions for you. And I really must get back to work."

"Okay. I hope you'll call me if you want to talk some more. Call anytime. My number is 914/555-6745. Please write it down. Maybe when you think some more about this you'll have more questions for me."

"Good-bye, Dr. Grey."

"Good-bye."

"You have reached the home of Mac and Heather Hudson. If you're calling on Alpha Flight business and need to speak to someone right away, call 555-4938. Otherwise leave a message after the tone and we'll call you back real soon. Well, I will. If you leave a message for Mac he'll forget and I'll nag him and eventually you'll hear from him."

"Hi, Heather. Scott Summers here. Sorry to bother you two at home and on the weekend, but I'm trying to put together some figures for budget projections and I'm on a pretty tight deadline. Damn Hank for going to Washington and leaving me with this. Anyway, could you give me a call? I'm looking for some expense figures related to joint Alpha Flight/X-Men projects and I thought you might have them. Or if not, that you'd be willing to help me make them up. Don't tell Charles I said that. Call me, thanks."

"Sasha? Hi, it's Adam Greenfield."

"Adam! So nice to hear from you. I was sorry last month to have missed you when you were here at the Academy."

"Yeah, me too. I wished I could stay past the weekend, but I had to work. Jean-Paul said he had a great time with you."

"Yes, it was good to have him here for a whole week. He was busy with his conference during the day - and I was working as well - but we spent a lot of time together in the evenings. I'm hoping that soon he'll be back."

"I'm afraid I've been monopolizing his time a bit lately. It seems all our free time we're either at his place in Toronto or mine in DC. We really should get to New York more often... But that's not what I called to say. I've got a proposition for you."

"Oh, I don't know how Jean-Paul feels about that kind of thing, but I can tell you Jean would not look kindly on it."

"Not that kind of proposition, as I'm sure you know."

"I thought as much. So, what kind?"

"Professional. Jean-Paul said you were freelancing again."

"In a very small way. I'm mostly keeping busy teaching photography here at the school. I occasionally do some freelance work, but really not much. What did you have in mind?"

"I'm going to be doing a story on the NIH project Hank McCoy has been working on. Are you familiar with what he's doing there?"

"A little. I'm intimately familiar with the work he and Jean have been doing on the physiology of mutation. They've been mapping changes in all sorts of physiological responses when mutants are using their gifts and trying to come up with a theory of how the mutant subspecies differs from the rest of the population.
> "Gee, maybe you should write the story and I should take the pictures. You understand this better than I do."

"Oh, I doubt it. But living with a medical researcher I've picked up a bit. Also Anjuli Radavan, Hank's partner in this project, was here for Alumni Weekend a few weeks back. She and I had dinner one night together - she had done a post-doc year in St. Petersburg and wanted someone to practice her Russian on."

"What was she doing at Xavier's for Alumni Weekend? She's not a mutant - she couldn't have gone to school there."

"No, she just came along with Hank, I think. Or maybe to see Tabitha Stanley. Do you know Tabitha?"

"Not personally, but she's very famous here."

"Ah, worldwide, Adam. Believe me, it did not escape notice even in Belarus when a mutant won a Nobel Prize."

"What's her connection with Anjuli Radavan?"

"They worked together at MIT before Anjuli got the job at Georgetown. Tabitha introduced Hank to Anjuli - that's how they come to be working together."

"But Hank's not working at Georgetown, is he? I thought he was somewhere on K Street."

"Yes, that's right. They tried to get Georgetown to sponsor them, or at least give them lab facilities. Anjuli's preference was to work in her own labs, but her University is staying away from controversial research topics. So they managed to get NIH funding instead and they have labs in some government office building. You're right probably about K Street, too - I hadn't heard the address... So what's the focus of the story and what would you want the photos to show?"

"Well, I think it sounds like they're on the verge of a breakthrough, and that's an important scientific story, but that's not my usual beat. It's the human side of it I want to focus on, and particularly the whole idea of mutants and non-mutants working together. You know: two researchers, one's a mutant and one isn't; subjects who are mutants in this part of the study, non-mutants in the next phase. Cooperation in the scientific community in the midst of all the hostility and fear in the larger society. That kind of thing."

"And the photos?"

"Hank and Anjuli. The lab, some of the subjects, maybe some illustrative magnified photos of blood samples or whatever."

"Why me? You must have staff photographers at the Herald."

"Yes, of course we do. But I think you've got an eye for the subject matter that the others might not, that you could photograph someone who looks like Hank without emphasizing the bizarre, letting his essential humanity show through. And it makes a good footnote to the theme of the article, you know? You and me - mutant and non-mutant - working together, too. Plus I figure your powers would come in handy for looking at the microscopic samples they're using... Don't laugh, why not?"

"Well, I can see microscopic organisms and so forth, Adam, but the camera can't record that. Not unless I use microphotographic equipment, and any photographer can do that."

"I know that, but I thought you'd be able to see more and figure out better what to take pictures of and what not to."

"And was there no other reason you ask me to do this assignment?"

"What do you mean?"

"Oh, I just thought you might be trying to get Sasha Cherevko back in the swing of things, back in the public eye. Maybe Jean asked you, no? Thought it would be good for me?"

"I haven't talked to Jean at all."

"But perhaps you thought yourself it would be good for me?"

"Well, maybe a little. I'm not trying to push you. I just thought a high profile assignment might get your name out there. Is that a bad thing?"

"No, not at all. I appreciate it, tovarisch, really."

"Is that a yes?"

"That it is. I've been living here for going on two years now - it's time I paid for my keep. When do you want me to come to Washington?"

"Can you come down a week from Thursday, on the 15th? I've got an appointment for the morning of the 16th, to interview Anjuli and Hank and some of their subjects. If you fly down in the afternoon, we should have time to talk a little more about the project. You can stay at my place and we can head over to their labs Friday morning."

"That's fine. I'll call back when I've made arrangements. Thank you, Adam, for thinking of me."

"I'm looking forward to working together."

Chapter 5: A Fighting Chance

I felt her crying all of a sudden, in the middle of the weekly meeting of my Shakespeare seminar. I'd been enjoying the class - the kids were engaged in an interesting discussion of Shakespeare's will. They had been speculating on the significance of Will bequeathing Anne Hathaway his "second best bed" when the sobbing started. At first I looked around, thinking someone in the room was crying. I quickly realized I wasn't *hearing* crying when I began to feel large tears falling down my cheeks and my nose starting to run. Touching my hand to my cheek confirmed what I already knew, that my face was dry. "What is it, Red?" I thought, with direction, and received her startled answer.

"Scott, I'm sorry," she said in my brain. "I didn't mean for you to feel this." The illusory dampness on my cheeks faded. "The link was dormant, I thought."

"Me, too," I projected back. "It's been years since I've gotten signals from you that weren't intentional. Hasn't it?"

I felt her nod. "I'm sorry," she said again. I told her not to be silly and asked again what's wrong. "You're in class," she replied. I could feel her pulling herself together. "We'll talk after."

And it was a good thing, since the kids were all looking to me right at that point and I had to confess that my mind had wandered a bit and I needed to get caught up on the last few comments. I worked at keeping my attention on the class for the rest of the period, but a big part of me was occupied with worrying about Jean.

I think most of the faculty and kids at school - and probably all of her colleagues and patients at the clinic she works at in Yonkers - would be surprised to hear that Dr. Jean Grey ever cries. She certainly presents a cool and calm exterior, even under extreme duress. All of the X-Men know that we can count on Jean to keep her cool even in the heat of battle and all of the students know that she exhibits the same aplomb at the most challenging of adolescent angst-and-hormone-ridden behavior. But Jean and I have been close friends since we were seventeen, and we were lovers for ten years. I've often seen another side of her. Seen it, heard it, felt it, lived it.

Jean's telepathic powers were a surprise to us all, and an unsettling change for our relationship as well. But once she and I adjusted to that, there were all sorts of benefits to telepathy, too. When we were a couple, we had a constant telepathic link that let us speak to each other any time we wished. And not just speak, but send thoughts and feelings wherever the other one happened to be. It was like our brains were always touching, even if our bodies were far apart.

I'd felt her crying like that lots of times. Jean never cried in front of anyone - that would ruin the unflappable image. But when something was distressing her badly, after the crisis she'd retreat to our room and sob. I'd come to her as soon as I could. At first she'd tell me to go away, saying she didn't want me around, didn't want me seeing her looking so ugly, with a dripping nose and red eyes. I told her that showing some vulnerability didn't make her any less beautiful to me. And the link ensured that I felt it all anyway - the phantom tears invisibly staining my cheeks, the sobs loud in my ears in the way only one's own sounds can be. And after a while she stopped protesting when I'd come to be with her when she cried. She'd let me hold her and kiss her eyes and wipe her nose and listen to whatever had caused those hidden tears.

Then things changed and I knew the tears were because of me, were for my deception and betrayal of her, for the loss of the love we'd had and the plans we'd shared. And the ghost tears on my cheeks would burn with shame and I wouldn't go to her because I knew I'd only make it worse. Eventually the link faded and I didn't feel her crying anymore. I knew it was for the best, but I wondered a little wistfully if Sasha felt her cry. She never said and I never asked.

Jean and I had come a long way since we'd broken up well over three years ago. We'd been faced at first with just the practical difficulty of needing to have some sort of companionable relationship, given that we worked together and lived together. Neither of us was going to give up the X-Men, so we needed to work out a way to be with each other in a post-breakup arrangement. Cautious with each other at first, we worked carefully and deliberately to renegotiate our relationship, to build a new friendship now that we were no longer lovers, no longer planning on marriage and children and a lifetime together. It was awkward, both for the history of the time together and for my guilt at lying to her, at leaving her. But she was her ever-patient and caring self, even to the guy who'd left her for another man after lying to her for years. At first it just made me feel like more of a heel to see how kind and forgiving she was being to me, but eventually I came to feel that if she saw something in me worth forgiving, maybe I could forgive myself, too.

It took time, but we got back so much of the closeness we'd had before the breakup. And it was better than it had been, with none of the anxiety surrounding my deception and the core incompatibility we denied. We were much better friends than we'd been lovers and I felt incredibly lucky to have her back in my life in that capacity. I was truly happy for her when she and Sasha fell in love, although in the early days of their relationship I worried a bit about his mental and emotional health after the internment and how that would affect Jean. Still, it was one more thing we had in common. She came to me disturbed about Sasha's nightmares and I talked to her about Logan's. I remember saying that it was such an odd thing to share - lovers who scream in the middle of the night. She smiled that knowing smile and said we'd always had an odd relationship.

It took a while to get it out of her. By the time class was over and I found Jean in her office, she was sitting at her desk, writing. I asked her if we could talk now and she said there was no need, that she was fine. I told her I knew she wasn't fine, that she had to be the antithesis of fine to cry hard enough to reactivate our long dormant telepathic link. She said she was busy writing up results of her latest mutation research for a journal article she and Hank were working on, that she had promised to send a draft off to him the next day.

"Can't you do that later?" I asked. She reluctantly joined me on the couch and after some prodding said that there was trouble between her and Sasha. I was surprised - they always seemed to be so happy together. I told her that.

"Well, we are, most of the time. It's fine day to day. We love each other; we're great together, really. He's the first guy since you I could really imagine a future with. But that's the problem. It's when we talk about the future that things start falling apart."

"And you're talking about the future a lot?"

"Well, yes. We've been together a long time now. I guess talk of marriage was inevitable."

"You really love this guy?" She nodded. "Then I think it's just cold feet. He'll talk you into marriage, eventually." I put my arm around her shoulders. "A lesser man did once," I added.

She turned to face me, shaking her head. "No, you've got it wrong. I'm the one who wants to get married. He doesn't."

"Why not?"

She shrugged. "He says he can't think about the future, that he just has to live his life one day at a time. And I can understand that, really I can. His world was turned upside down and it's been a huge struggle for him ever since. He doesn't feel like he can make a permanent commitment." She paused, running one hand through her hair. "But it has been a long time and he has made such huge progress. I feel like at some point you have to go beyond the one-day-at-a-time mantra. Well, you do if you're letting anyone else into your life."

"Is he saying that he's not ready yet for marriage?"

She shook her head. "No. That I wouldn't mind so much. He's saying he just doesn't have it in him, that he can't promise to stay together forever. He says that he loves me now but doesn't know what the future holds. And that he wouldn't want to marry me - and certainly wouldn't want to have kids - without making that kind of promise."

"Hey, welcome to the club. Well, except for the marriage and kids part, that is. That's pretty much where I am with Logan. He's got an aversion to promises, I think. I considered it a major breakthrough, though, that he has agreed to tell me if he's leaving me. The last two times he did that I just woke up and he was gone."

"I'm sorry, Slim. I thought things were really solid between you two, lately."

I considered that a minute. "You know, I think we're doing fine, really. Well, other than the fact that we don't really see each other now except when he's back visiting or I manage to get down to Washington. But yeah, when we're together it's great. It's like you said - fine in the moment. But Logan can't think about the future, either. Maybe that's just the downside of having a lover who was experimented on and tortured."

"The downside?" she asked, mock incredulously. "You mean, other than that it's such a positive thing?"

I laughed at that. "No, of course not. And believe me, I've wasted a lot of tears on it, myself. Wishing they'd never gotten their hands on him, wishing I could just make it all go away." I tried to take the bitter tone out of my voice. "But it's also so much a part of who he is, you know? And it's part of what makes him maddeningly solitary and independent, but it's also part of what makes him willing to fight to the death to stop others being treated like he was. It's part of what gives him a profound empathy for the abused and the wounded that I know I'll never have, no matter how hard I try. And I do try, in large part because of the example he sets, because loving him makes me want to emulate the best in him. I guess I'm saying it's all just part of who Logan is. And I knew that going into this and I do truly believe I love him, warts and all. Okay, so I wish the warts weren't these really strong homicidal tendencies and an almost total inability to make a promise, but he does have other, more endearing characteristics."

Jean laughed at that. "Yeah, you're right. Sasha, too. Well, minus the homicidal tendencies." She smiled. "I'm feeling better already, Scott. Thanks."

"Hey, any time you want to feel better about the man you're in love with, just come talk to me. I'll cheer you up even more by describing what it's like to be with someone who can't sleep with you because he has this proclivity for accidentally skewering people in the night."

She laughed again, but then turned serious. "I do love him. Warts and all, it's true. But marriage, kids - these are things I really want. And if I'm going to have kids, it's not like I can just put that desire on hold for a bunch of years and then pick it up again. There are limits, after all. And I just worry that I'm throwing away my love and my energy and my time on someone who's never going to give me what I need."

I put my arms around her and told her I understood. We held each other silently for a couple of minutes. I pulled back, looking at her again. "Hey, maybe we should give it another shot? We're both pair-bonding types. What do you say? We could get back together, get married, have a few kids." I smiled at her, gesturing to encompass the whole school. "Convince Charles to retire and let us take over this whole empire," I added, ironic emphasis on the last word. "And we can each have occasional hot sex on the side with our non-committal lovers."

She laughed, drying her tears with the Kleenex I'd handed her. "You are kidding, aren't you?"

"Yeah, I guess so. It has its appeal, but it's way too Harold Nicolson for me."

"I can't see myself as Vita either. Thanks for the offer, though." She turned pensive. "Do you think they're right? Better not to make a promise than to break one, maybe." I winced at that. "Oh, Scott. I didn't mean it like that. You did your best. We both did. It just couldn't work."

"Well, that's true. And I really believed I could get over it, or I wouldn't have asked you to marry me. And sure, part of me was motivated by this need to be accepted and respectable and just not being willing to deal with having two big things that make me different. But a whole lot of it was loving you, you know."

"I do know that." She flashed me that engaging smile.

"No, I don't think they're right," I said, answering her previous question. "Sometimes you need to make a promise to make something happen and I think this is one of those times. Sure, you can promise to stay together and it still might not work out. Look at you and me; look at your parents, for that matter. But if you don't promise you pretty much guarantee you won't stay together. It's the promise that keeps you working at it, keeps you trying, until you absolutely can't anymore. Well, maybe not for everybody, but for people who take this stuff seriously. That's what commitment is about, I think. The promise isn't the end - it's kind of the guidepost. And for you maybe that's marriage and a public commitment. And I really hope Sasha comes around on that. I think he's a fool if he doesn't. "

"Thanks." She thought about it a minute. "What do you want, Scott? Would you want a public commitment with Logan?"

"No, that's not for us. Well, none of it's for him, I guess, or so he tells me. For me, all I want is a private one. Mutually pledging to each other our lives, our fortunes and our sacred honor, to mix metaphors of love and patriotism with wild abandon. I can't be sure that would keep us together, or keep us being good together. But I'm pretty sure that without that we don't have a chance."

Chapter 6: Risk Management

"I did it!"

"Ummm. April? C'est toi?"

"Oui, Jean-Paul. It's me. I did it!"

"Ma petite, I'm sorry. I'm half asleep still. Just a minute... Okay, what did you do?"

"Put Shoshee on the shelf."

"Shoshee, your doll? April, are you there?"

"Yes."

"I'm sorry, but I'm not understanding. Why did you call me to tell me you put Shoshee on the shelf?"

"Because I didn't touch her!"

"Mon dieu, April! Vraiment? Telekinesis at age four? C'est formidable."

"Hi, Jean-Paul. I'm sorry she woke you. She was adamant that you had to know right away."

"I'm glad she called. It's amazing, isn't it? I've never heard of a telekinetic coming into her powers so young."

"Me, neither. I want to call Westchester and talk to Jean about it - she would know from her research if it's unprecedented. I'm kind of hoping it isn't, actually."

"Pourquoi?"

"Well, the proud mother part of me likes to think she's uniquely precocious but the practical part wants to know how to handle this and would like to talk to other parents of young telekinetics. I had a hell of a time, myself, learning to control it, and I was 16 when it first manifested. I'm just envisioning a few months of unpredictable flying objects around here... You laugh, but you've never lived with an emerging telekinetic. Ask my parents and sister - it's not easy."

"Oh, I believe you, but it does have its comic aspects. And certainly she could have no better parents to handle this than you and Arthur."

"Thanks. Pretty gracious and kind of you to say after we indulged her by letting her wake you up at 8:00 on a Sunday morning."

"I always want to hear from April."

"Well, not always. Remember last year in Cote St. Luc when she wouldn't leave you and Adam alone?"

"It wasn't that bad. We both loved seeing her, and all of you."

"Always the gentleman. So, is Adam there now?"

"No, did you think he would be?"

"Yeah, I thought you'd give up that crazy idea of going to Washington in your current state and wait for him to come see you on the weekend. You didn't go, did you? You did!"

"Oui. I just wanted to know what was going on."

"Jean-Paul, you're going to kill yourself one of these days. I don't know why you do this - you're always taking unnecessary chances. Super speed and flight are your powers - not immortality."

"Don't you give me a hard time, too, Wendy. I already got an earful from Adam about it."

"Well, how are you? How was traveling there?"

"Oh, it was pretty bad. Yes, you were both right. I traveled too soon. I'm much better now - just got back last night. I still had to fly by plane because this foot is throwing off my balance, but I'm much better. I was kind of a wreck when I arrived in Washington - I think I scared my poor lover half to death."

"Did you see a doctor down there?"

"Oui. Hank McCoy is there now and he treated me. I mostly just needed to rest, but he changed dressings and examined me and reassured Adam that I wasn't going to expire right before his eyes."

"Well, it's convenient he was around. He's doing research on mutant healing factor with the National Institutes of Health, you know."

"No, I didn't. Adam just said that he was there for a year, not what he's doing. Oh, I wish he'd bottled that - I was sure envying Logan his powers this past week."

"I can imagine. Well, maybe soon. Logan's working with him on this... Don't laugh, it's true."

"I'm just having trouble picturing Logan as a research assistant."

"No, not a research assistant - a subject."

"You're kidding!"

"Nope. And yeah, that's even more unlikely, don't you think? Logan letting somebody do experiments on his body, after all he's been through. I can't imagine what Hank said to talk him into that."

"Well, I'm glad he was able to, whatever he said. It would really be something to distill that. Have you ever seen his healing factor in action, Wendy?"

"No, there wasn't much bloodshed when he was here. Of course Logan and I fought all the time, but my preferred weapon is rapier wit and I never inflicted any visible wounds. Have you seen the healing factor?"

"Oui, that joint mission out West a couple of months back. A wound that would have killed anyone else, and it just closed up and he's back in the fray in seconds. I couldn't get over it."

"Well, remember you don't have it next time you're thinking of doing something really stupid, like flying to Washington when you're too badly injured to leave your bed... So, what was Adam's news? Arthur guessed professional and I'm guessing personal."

"You win. Very personal. Wendy, he wants to adopt a baby."

"Really? With you? Together?"

"Non. He didn't say anything like that, just that he was going to do it and worried about how it would affect us as a couple. Not that I gave him much of a chance to suggest we have a baby together, but I'm sure he didn't intend that. I've asked him many times to live with me and he always turns me down - he's not going to suddenly decide he's not only willing to live together but also have a child together."

"I don't know. People do change. This is a big change for him, anyway, n'est-ce pas?"

"Oui, bigger than you know. I think it's an insane idea and told him so. The baby he wants to adopt has a birthmother with AIDS."

"Oh wow. Did the baby test positive?"

"It's not even born yet. He's working with an adoption facilitator. She identified this woman as a possible birthmother for Adam to contract with, if she still feels the same after the baby is born. The birth father is a mutant, by the way. I think Adam thought that would mollify me or something. I don't know if I can stand to watch him make the same mistake I did."

"Oh, Jean-Paul! It sounds so tough for you. Are you really thinking adopting Joanne was a mistake?"

"I shouldn't have said that. I don't really feel that way. I'm glad I gave her what I could and grateful every day for all she gave me. And I understand what Adam wants - who knows better than I why someone would take a risk like that? But I don't know if I can bear to see him going through what happened to me."

"Please don't talk like that, Jean-Paul. I know it's hard not to be pessimistic after what you went through, but it's not a foregone conclusion that this baby will even be infected. It might be perfectly healthy."

"I know. I know that well. But that's part of what bothers me, Wendy. If this baby is sick, I'm terrified I won't be able to give him the kind of support and love he needs, the kind I would have wanted someone to give me, just because my memories get in the way. But even worse - what if *his* baby is healthy and I resent him for that?"

"It won't happen. I know you too well to think that's a possibility."

"Then you know me better than I know myself."

"Guilty as charged. You doubt yourself too much. Remember you thought you'd never be able to care about April? Look at the two of you now. Arthur and I have mostly felt superfluous since her visit to Toronto last month. Okay, I exaggerate slightly, but really it's a huge joy to us that you and April have this special closeness, and you never thought it possible."

"You're right, Wendy. But this is different."

"I know. But it still could work out. Try to keep an open mind about it. You don't want to lose Adam over this, do you?"

"I don't want to lose Adam over anything."

"Hi, you've reached the Ringsmith residence. Arthur and Wendy are up to their ears in some household project and April is too busy playing to talk on the phone. Leave us a message and we'll call you back as soon as we can."

"Hi, it's Scott. Hey, I never got your voicemail before. It sounds very domestic and nuclear family-ish. Very good. Not that I expected 'you have reached the secret location of the X-Men/Alpha Flight outpost' or anything. Anyway, could you guys please ask Susan to call me when she gets a minute? I need to talk about expenses over the last 6 months and projections for the next fiscal year. Hey, any chance Susan and Diana are getting tired of the country? I could use someone with some financial savvy here. Westchester's a great place for raising kids and we're short one doctor, too. Okay, okay, I didn't mean it, Wendy. I know your rule - 'no poaching'. I'll send you a copy of the Emancipation Proclamation later. In the meantime just ask her to give me a call."

"Scott?"

"Hi... Just a second... Okay, I was just putting my glasses on."

"What's there to see?"

"Good point. Not much. Well, the clock. 3:17, in case you don't have one close to you. Same time in DC, right?"

"I guess that means I woke you up. I know, I know - you had to get up anyway to answer the phone. Sorry about calling so late. Do you want to go back to sleep?"

"No, it's fine. What's up?"

"Nothing much. Sort of a tough day."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"I don't know."

"Is Hank there?"

"Nah. I think he's at the lab. He's out all night a lot - say's he's close to a breakthrough."

"That's exciting... Don't you think so?"

"Yeah, anything to be done with this."

"Are you regretting agreeing to participate in his project?"

"No, I guess not."

"I think I have an inkling of how hard this is for you, Logan. I know I can't really get it, can't really know how it feels, but I have some sense of what it's taking you to do this."

"You know more than anybody, Scott. You understand better than anybody. That's why I call you - I figure you can understand it."

"Can you tell me what happened today?"

"God, I hate needles. And just sitting still while they *do* things to you. I'm sorry to bother you but it just gives me the creeps and I don't really have anybody else to talk to about it."

"Hey, I'm the guy who talked you into it. Who else better to unload on? I'm sorry, Logan. I know so much of this can trigger memories of what Weapon X did to you. Has Hank made sure they followed all those instructions? No holding you still, no touching you until you say you're ready, all of that?"

"Yeah, but then there's always something we didn't think of ahead of time. Today I was supposed to meet Hank there. I show up and he's not there and neither is Anjuli. So the receptionist says, 'I'm sorry, Mr. Logan, but the Doctor is late today.' I nearly lost it. Nobody's called me 'Mr. Logan' since Weapon X and they always called the guy in charge 'the Doctor'. God, Scott, it took me right back. I felt like killing somebody or running away or both."

"What did you do?"

"Nothing. Absolutely nothing. Sat there like some tame animal or something. She had no idea how close she came to dying."

"But that's good, Logan. You've got it so under control."

"Sometimes."

"Do you think it's too much? You can still back out, you know. Hank knows how hard it is for you to participate in this."

"I don't want to back out. I'm gonna stick with it."

"Okay. If you can."

"So, nothing much to see, you said? You alone?"

"Yeah, I'm alone. I'm always alone in bed when you're not here."

"Yeah?"

"You can count on it. Feel free to show up in the middle of the night some time."

"I might do that."

"Can you come home for the weekend? It would be great to see you. I could try to take your mind off of Hank and research and Weapon X."

"That sounds good. Yeah, sure. I'll come Saturday morning, okay? But can you start on the taking my mind off part before then? Tell me a story, Cyclops."

"Sure, Logan. Close your eyes. Where are you?"

"In the living room. On the couch."

"Okay, I'm knocking on the door. Answer the door, Logan."

"Alright, I'm opening the door and you're there."

"So, what do you do now?"

"I pull you in and close the door. And I just push you up against the door, pinning you there."

"Yeah, that's what you're doing. You're pushing against me with your whole body and your hands are on my upper arms, holding me still. Your right leg is in between mine. I can feel you hard against my thigh, Logan."

"Touching you does that to me. Holding you still does that to me. I like feeling like I can do anything to you."

"You can, Logan. Anything you want. I'm yours to do with what you will. All I want to do is please you. You've got your mouth on my neck now. Hot and wet, right at the pulse point. I can feel your teeth. Sometimes that scares me a little, you know."

"I wouldn't hurt you, Scott. I wouldn't bite you. Sometimes I do feel wild when I'm with you, do feel like the animal side of me is coming out and taking over. But it's not the hunting animal."

"What is it, Logan?"

"It's like, I don't know. Out of control with sex and desire, not rage."

"That's what I want. That's what does it for me. How you lose control, the way you just take what you want. Tell me what to do, Logan."

"Unzip me, Scott. Wrap your hand around my dick. Yeah, just like that. I love those long fingers of yours. I love what you do with them. You know just how I like it."

"I do, Logan. I know what you like and I know how you like it. I know what makes you feel good. That's all I want to do, to please you. That's why I'm pumping your cock with my fist like this, Logan. That's why I'm using my thumb on the head while I rub up and down. Oh, I can feel some precum leaking out of you, Logan. Can I have a taste of that?"

"Yeah. Get on your knees, Cyclops. I'm going to stick my dick in your mouth. Yeah, that's it. Suck me good, just for a minute. Yeah, just like that... No, no more. I'm not gonna come in your mouth. Not this time. Stand up again and face the door."

"I'm doing what you told me to, Logan. I'm pressed up against the door. My hands are behind my back and you're holding me by the wrists. Oh, I can hear your claw coming out. Now, you're cutting the clothes off of me. You're all pressed against me again, but this time your hard cock is out and it's pushed against my ass. You want in, don't you?"

"Yeah, I do. I want to stick it in you and fuck you hard, fuck you 'til you scream. You want me to do that?"

"Oh yes. Please fuck me, Logan. Fuck me hard. I want to feel you hard and strong and pushing inside me. I want to hear you growl and pant and moan while you're doing it to me. Now you're spreading my cheeks and pushing deep into me. Oh, up to the hilt. And out almost all the way. Now you're shoving it back in. You've got me right up against the door and you're just slamming it into me. Faster and harder with each stroke. Yeah, that's it. More, Logan. Harder. Give it to me. Shoot it into me. You're almost there. I can hear it. I can feel it... Oh my God! Oh yes."

"God, Scott. That felt so good. Almost real. I feel kind of like we really were doing it, you know?"

"Me, too, Logan. The next best thing to being there, like you said. Do you think you can sleep now?"

"Yeah, I feel good. Took all the tension away. Thanks, Scott. You're good to me, good for me."

"I'm even better in person. Come visit some time and see for yourself. If you don't remember, that is."

"I remember. But I'll come home for a refresher. See you Saturday."

"Hey, Logan, I don't think I ever heard you say that before."

"Say what?"

"Home."

Chapter 7: Ghost of a Chance

I don't know why I believe him when he says he's not doing it with anybody else. I sure know he's capable of cheating. Well, I'm not sure it even counts as cheating if he has some other guy, like he did with Worthington for a while there, or that Simon. We never had any kind of deal about that. We weren't even together when Worthington decided to get his old buddy Scott to show him how the other half lives. Pissed me off, anyway, but it wasn't really any of my business, even if I didn't want to hear that when he told me so. The thing with Simon was different, and it made me mad as hell, but I can't say he broke any promises to me, 'cause he never made any. And he told me about Simon that same night. He didn't have to - he didn't realize I already knew. He could have kept it to himself if he wanted to. So, he's pretty much been on the up and up, at least lately, as far as I can tell.

Still, it sure was cheating with me at the beginning there. Not cheating on me - cheating on Jeannie, who didn't have a clue. And it didn't take a whole lot to convince him. Knocking someone down and telling him to eat you isn't much of a seduction plan. If that was the way to get somebody into bed, I'd've been getting a lot more over the years. So, I guess I should realize that he could be sneaking off on me, just like he did on Jeannie. Lying to me like he lied to her. A guy who can make a telepath believe something that ain't true is a damn good liar.

But I believe him just the same. I kind of check every once in a while, 'cause I'm not so sure he'd just up and tell me if something happened, even though he did that one time. But if he says to my face that there isn't anybody else, then I'm just sure he's telling me the truth. Or even on the phone, like the other day. Doesn't make a whole lot of difference - it's not like I could tell by whether or not he'll look me in the eye.

And sometimes I feel like I got to ask the question, got to hear him say it's just me. So, that's why I asked on the phone. He said there wasn't anybody else and said I should come there in the night if I wanted to see. Well, I believed him but it seemed like a good idea, anyway. Phone sex with him is good, but it always makes me want to do it for real. And I was getting sick of DC, sick to death of this damn project, too. I needed to be back in Westchester for a couple of days. Back home.

I left DC late Friday night and traveled through lousy weather on that motorcycle of his, kind of wishing I'd rented a car as the rain was coming down hard. I'd told him I was coming the next day, but I thought I'd surprise him. Got there in the middle of the night, came to his room. He was sound asleep, naked when I pulled back the covers. That woke him up and he reached for his glasses, but I took them. "No, Scott. Later." I was standing by his bed, but got down on my knees and took his cock in my mouth, felt it getting big and hard. He moaned and reached for me, saying, "I want to suck you, too."

So, I kicked off my shoes and got up on the bed with him. He undid my belt and pants and sort of pulled them out of the way, so I'm like still wearing them but they're down around my legs. And I got on top of him, still sucking, pushing my dick into his mouth now, too. He was making these great noises as I fucked his mouth and sucked him at the same time. I remembered what he'd said the other night about only wanting to please me, feeling like he meant it as his wet mouth was gobbling me up. I was feeling just good all over, forgetting all about Hank's project and Weapon X and everything but his body and mine, just pleasuring each other. Pushing hard with my hips, going deep in his mouth. His hands were on my ass, kind of kneading my cheeks and I was licking and sucking hard. And then he stuck a finger in my ass, which just got me humping harder and faster. It was like I almost lost track of who was in who where, it all felt so good. Before I knew it I was coming in his throat and just so taken with what was happening or something that I was surprised when he came in my mouth, too, just as I was finishing.

I rolled off of him and we both kind of stretched out. We didn't talk or anything for a while, just lay there like that next to each other, head to foot and foot to head. "That was really good, Scott," I said, after a bit. "I'm glad you were alone."

"I told you I would be, Logan," he answered me. "I made a choice. I'm sticking to it."

I shrugged. "If you say so."

He didn't get mad, sounded real patient with me. "I do understand that it's hard to believe me. I wouldn't blame you if you didn't. But I'm done lying. I'm done cheating. I can't live like that again. Not even just for what it would do to us, but for what I know it does to me."

So, maybe I'm a fool to believe him, but I do. I know he lied to Jeannie, but I also know he hates lying. Tore him up to do that to her and nearly destroyed him. Okay, so he lied to her for a little while there, but for a lot of years he was just lying to himself. He tried and tried to get over it and be what he was supposed to be to her, what he said he was, but he couldn't. He tried to keep what was going on from me, too, playing us both at the same time. I had amnesia at the time, which should've made it kind of easy. Only it wasn't easy. Not for Scott Summers, Boy Scout. It was a real fucked up time for him. He wanted to live an honest life and he wanted to live a respectable life, but he couldn't do both at the same time. And finally, he couldn't lie anymore and told her and me both the truth, knowing it could've been the end of everything. So, maybe that's why I believe him. He's told me the truth when the truth was hard and he was willing to take the chance.

And why do I care so much, anyway? I don't really have an answer to that one. I've always been kind of territorial about anyone I'm doing, haven't wanted them with anybody else. More so with women, though. I would've killed any man who so much as looked at Yasuko and not regretted it for a minute. Not so different with a man, I guess. I want him to be mine, not just anybody's for the taking.

But there's more to it than that with Scott. Ever since that time we were traveling across Canada together, I've kind of thought of him and me as a team. A team of two. Warriors together and friends and lovers, like in that ancient Greek stuff he likes. Or like I'd wished I could be with Yukio.

I tell him stuff I never told nobody else, not even Yasuko. Stuff I didn't even let on to the Professor, when he was roaming around in my brain. Scott and me share stuff, do stuff, that's different than it's been with anybody I ever had before - friend or lover. And I just can't stand the idea of someone else getting in the middle of that. Now, part of me says that sex isn't all that big a deal. I've sure done it with plenty of people I didn't share much of anything with and so has he. Hell, he did it for money for over a year. Still, there's something about what we've got now that makes it more or different or something. I just feel like sex with someone else would spoil it.

Someone else for him or for me. And that's kind of new for me - I never felt like I wouldn't do it with somebody else if I felt like it. Well, maybe that's the difference - I don't feel like it. It's not like I don't look or don't like it when somebody's looking back, particularly women. I kind of miss women. But when it comes down to it, I don't want to fuck anyone else. I don't think anybody else could keep the demons away. And I worry that if I was doing it with somebody else, maybe Scott couldn't keep them away anymore, either. Maybe it would ruin everything.

So, I know I'm not going to have anybody else, at least for now, and I believe him when he says he's not, either. Even with me being in Washington all this time and knowing how he hates doing without. I haven't made him any promises or anything - except that I'd tell him if I did anybody else. Still, in my own head I know it ain't gonna happen, not while we're still a team like this.

And how long is that going on? He wants forever, he tells me. Forever for him, that is. I've got a longer forever staring me in the face. And maybe I will be with him all his life. I could see going on like this for a long time. But I can't promise it, and that's what he wants. I don't make a lot of promises, but I've given him promises when I wouldn't anybody else. But not that one. And that's the one he wants.

Why not? Why don't I just tell him yes, I'll stay with him and get rid of the whole argument? I've been tempted, particularly when he just won't let up. Scott's the kind who can just talk you to death. And if I really think about it, I have to say I can't even picture myself living without him anymore. When I need someone to talk to, he's the one I call. When I need to fuck someone, he's the one I want to do. When something good happens or something bad, it's him I want to be around. No, I can't see living without him, but I still can't make any promises.

That's because even if I don't see myself living without him, I can sure see myself dying. And dying alone. There was a whole year there - almost twenty years ago now - when I tried to kill myself every day, every which way I could think of, until I finally gave up. Only I didn't totally give up. I always had that in the back of my mind.

Sometimes it comes back, front and center. Particularly when the memories and the nightmares are taking over. Sometimes I want to die so bad I think I just can't stand it. I want Death then like I never wanted anything or anyone, like Death is the only lover I'd ever be faithful to, ever make a promise to. "Death is welcome and death is soon and death is a quiet step into a sweet, clean midnight."

And here's the real ironic part: Scott's the only one who can give me what I want. His blasts could kill me, I'm sure of it. There's a couple of times I've tried to get him to help me out that way, when I told him that's what I needed. But he won't do it. Can't do it. Says he can't kill someone he loves. Well, I know how hard that is - I did it to Yukio. So, I can't blame him if he can't manage it. And there we are - I can't give him what he wants, a promise that I'll stay with him. And he can't give me what I want, a promise that he'll help me leave altogether, when I need to. So, we're kind of at an impasse.

That's the real reason I agreed to do this project with Hank in Washington. Oh sure, part of it is to help the X-Men, or maybe all of humanity, if they can figure out how to bottle the healing factor. I've never quite gotten comfortable with this hero stuff, but I can see how it could be a good thing if Hank and Anjuli can use my blood and my body to figure out how to heal wounds or cure disease. But that wouldn't be enough for me to put up with what they're doing, not enough to sit still there while they do what was done to me before, when inside I just want to kill everyone in sight. Nah, I'm not using every bit of self-control I've got just in the hope that this research is going to help somebody else. I'm doing it for me.

The way I look at it, if they can figure out how to make it work, then they can figure out how to make it stop working, too. And that'll be my payment for letting them do this to me. Nobody knows it but Hank, and he's not telling. Hoping to talk me out of it, I'm sure, but he agreed. If he finds out how to make me stop healing, he's telling me how. I need that silver bullet and Hank McCoy's going to be the one to give it to me.

Chapter 8:On the Off Chance

"Turn on the TV, Scott."

"What are you talking about, 'Ro? We're in the middle of a class, here."

"Class dismissed. Turn on the TV, Scott."

"...This is a special news update. A few minutes ago we reported that there was an explosion and fire in a government office building in Washington, DC. It now appears that the explosion was the result of a deliberately set bomb. The building on K Street in Northwest Washington is still in flames, now about 40 minutes after the original explosion. Emergency personnel are on the scene. Apparently the bomb was set off on the fourteenth floor, in a suite of offices occupied by National Institutes of Health research staff.

"First reports indicated that the fire might have been an accidental result of the experimental work going on there, but we have just received word that eye witnesses say that the explosion was intentional. Ralph Friedman, a spokesman for the Office of Homeland Security, confirmed that survivors rescued from the fourteenth floor report that an intruder entered the lab with bombs strapped to his body under his clothing. Mr. Friedman refused to speculate on the suicide bomber's motives. Casualties have been estimated to be at least in the teens - firefighters are still trying to reach the site of the explosion, so numbers are preliminary. No names of survivors or casualties have been released."

"This device permits any interested individual to record a communiqué to the attention of Henry McCoy, currently residing in our nation's capital, known to most of the country as 'Washington' and to the local inhabitants as 'DC'. In addition, one may provide information or other intelligence to be passed on to Logan, also known by some as Wolverine, the current, albeit temporary, occupant of my spare bedroom. If you are interested in recording such a missive, please wait until the electronic tonal signal completes and then clearly enunciate your moniker and indicate which of the two residents you wish to contact, as well as any other information you wish to impart."

"Answer the phone, Logan. Damn you, answer the phone. You told me you weren't going in to the lab today. Be there! Come on, Logan! Where are you? Where's Hank? Call home, please. As soon as you get this. I'm really scared."

"Jean-Paul?"

"Adam! Are you okay? Were you there?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. Sasha and I had just arrived. We were about to get into the elevator to go up to their floor when it happened. It was deafening - we had no idea what was going on."

"So Sasha's okay, too?"

"Oh God, I hope so."

"What do you mean? What happened to him?"

"I don't know. He hit the floor - I thought something had knocked him down, but it couldn't have. Maybe shock or something."

"There wasn't any flying debris?"

"No, the building shook, but there was nothing in the lobby, really. Oh, Jean-Paul, he looked awful."

"What did you do?"

"I managed to pull him out of the building. I had no idea what was going on but I figured we'd better get out first and ask questions later. I wanted to get away from there, but I couldn't get Sasha to come with me. He just curled up on the sidewalk outside. I couldn't get him to make eye contact or respond to anything I said. I didn't know what to do - I didn't want to leave him to go for help, but I couldn't get him to go with me to find anyone. "

"So what happened?"

"Some medical staff finally got to where we were. They took him off to Walter Reed with the people who were wounded. Oh no, I forgot. I have to call Westchester and tell Jean he's there - she'll be frantic."

"Westchester. What about Hank and Logan?"

"I don't know! They were up there, Jean-Paul. We had a 10:00 appointment with them and I know they were waiting for us, because the security staff called up first, before they let us in. I have no idea whether they got out or not. There was so much smoke and such confusion. I saw the paramedics taking people out and putting them in ambulances - I couldn't get close enough to see who was who, though. I'd better get off the phone now and call Xavier's and at least tell them what I do know."

"D'accord. Oh, Adam, mon coeur. Je t'aime. I'm so glad you're okay. Thank you for calling me."

"I love you, too. I'll call back soon."

"I'm sorry to bother you again, Professor."

"Don't say that, Oliver. You know you can call here any time."

"Have you heard any more?"

"No, no word on Logan or Dr. McCoy yet, I'm afraid."

"That's a good sign, right? They would have called the school if they'd...died, wouldn't they?"

"I hope so. I'm not sure, but I do think that they both would have listed this number to call in case of emergency. And Hank, at least, always is very careful about carrying identification and emergency contact information in his wallet. I don't really know about Logan... Oliver, the waiting is the hardest, but I'm sure we'll hear soon. They're still pulling people out and some of them are alive."

"I wish I were there with all of you."

"Why don't you come home? Your college career won't be destroyed if you miss a couple of days of classes."

"Really? I won't be in the way?"

"Don't be silly. Get here as soon as you can. Do you remember the password to use at the gate?"

"Yeah, sure."

"Okay, You'll need it to get in. We're on high alert now. Just a precaution. This bomb may have had nothing to do with the fact that one of the researchers is a mutant or that the subject of the research is mutant physiology, but better safe than sorry."

"I think I'll feel safer back in Westchester than here. I'll see you tonight, Professor. Thanks."

"Charles? Mac Hudson. Are you all okay there?"

"Oh, thanks for calling, Mac. We're waiting to hear about Logan and Hank - no word yet."

"Logan and Hank? Were they in that building on K Street?"

"I'm not sure yet, but that's where they were working."

"Oh no. I had no idea. I hope they're okay. But there's been no trouble in Westchester?"

"No, what do you mean?"

"I know your defenses are always strong, but I think you need to go on high alert now."

"Oh, we did that right away. Any time there's a major incident of anti-mutant violence we activate our alert plan. This is the worst I've ever seen. I've got one of our former students coming home for a few days, but aside from him - and I hope to God Logan and Hank - nobody's coming into the school until we know better what we're dealing with."

"Well, good, because we're starting to get a picture of what we're dealing with, and it's not pretty. This attack in Washington was no isolated incident. There was a similar attempt at Alpha Flight headquarters in Toronto and at a mutant rights organization office in San Francisco - all within minutes of each other."

"Oh no! Are you all okay at Alpha Flight?"

"Yeah, luckily I had my Guardian suit on and tackled the bomber. He was the only casualty. The San Francisco office had two deaths - the office was just opening up. So, it looks like Washington was the biggest hit so far. But no telling if this is the end. This can't be coincidence - someone coordinated this, provided the explosives, talked these madmen into killing a bunch of mutants along with themselves. I don't know how many more are out there."

"Scott."

"Logan. Oh my God! Where are you?"

"Walter Reed."

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah. I will be, anyway. The healing factor is kicking in. I wanted to call earlier, but they wouldn't let me. Fucking cops wouldn't stop asking me questions. I think they thought I was gonna die on them so they'd find out what they could first."

"So you *were* there."

"Yeah, Anjuli wanted me to be there for the interview, so I went in after all."

"Was Hank with you?"

"Scott, this guy... he just showed up. I don't know how he got past security. Anjuli thought he was Adam - you know, since we were expecting him. She went up to him to say 'hi'. I didn't know what was up, but I knew something was wrong. He wasn't moving right - there was something under his clothes... I didn't know what to do. I knocked her down and jumped on her just before it went off."

"So you were right there? Right where it happened?"

"Yeah, a few feet from him."

"I saw photos of the explosion site on TV, Logan. It's amazing you're alive, even with the healing factor. It must have practically ripped you apart."

"Just about. Yeah, even with the healing factor, it's gonna take a while 'til I'm back on my feet. Anjuli's okay, though. I guess my body took most of the initial impact."

"How'd you get out of there?"

"I don't even know. It was all smoke and flames and... I don't know. Somehow I carried her down the stairs a bit - a couple floors, I think. I don't know what happened after. I woke up here with some doctor arguing with a couple of cops about whether they could question me."

"Where was Hank, Logan? Where is he now?"

"He was there in the office with us, Scott. At his desk, while we were near the door. I tried, really. Anjuli was closer... And I wasn't thinking. It was all so fast... I haven't seen him, Scott. Nobody's telling me anything here."

"Do you think he could have made it out?"

"I don't know. I just don't know."

"I'm coming down there tonight, Logan. Jean's already in DC - she's somewhere at Walter Reed, too, with Sasha."

"Sasha? He and Adam were on their way up, but I thought for sure they'd gotten out."

"They did, but something happened to Sasha. He hasn't said a word since the explosion. Jean's staying with him, trying to get through to him with telepathy. I'm flying down in the Blackbird as soon as Warren gets here. He and I are going to try and find Hank, or find out what we can about him. We're not learning anything from here. Charles called his contacts at Homeland Security, so I know where to start. I'll try to come see you tonight. If they don't let me in, I'll call you. And we'll be at Hank's place for the night."

"The wave of anti-mutant suicide bombings continues, now in its third day. A bomb in a mutant dorm at Dartmouth University claimed the lives of 15 students, 2 staff members and the bomber himself, preliminarily identified as Charles Vesey of Kellogg, Idaho. This latest bombing, the sixth in the past three days, brings the death total to 87. A government source indicated that an anonymous tip led to the arrest of a man believed to have been planning a similar attack on Xavier's Academy in Salem Center, New York, a private boarding school long thought to have a number of mutants among its students and faculty. Calls to Xavier's for comment were not returned..."

"I need to talk to Professor X, right away. Cyclops here."

"Scott! Any news?"

"Yes, Charles, there is."

"Hank has been found?"

"Yes. It was him. Warren did the identification. Anjuli said she couldn't handle it. Not that there was much doubt, even with how mangled he was. Not a whole lot of blue and furry victims."

"I guess we knew, really, but somehow I still hoped."

"Me, too. They won't release his name on the casualty list to the news media for a couple more hours. I asked for that, so you'd have time to tell the kids and the faculty."

"How are you all holding up?"

"I don't know. Too soon to tell. Jean's in Stoic Dr. Grey mode - or maybe just overwhelmed, between Sasha and the news about Hank."

"No change on Sasha?"

"No. Traumatic amnesia, they're calling it. He has no memory of the blast, or anything from the last few days. And he can't speak English at all. Russian, French, Belarusian - but his English is totally gone."

"And Warren?"

"He was just asking when the four of us were last together and I couldn't even remember. Isn't that awful? We were totally inseparable when we were your first four X-Men, you know? And now with Warren coming and going and Hank off on this assignment I couldn't even remember when we were last all in the same room. Well, we're together now."

"What are your plans?"

"We're bringing him home in the Blackbird tomorrow. They said they'd release his body then. Jean-Paul is coming down to stay with Sasha so Jean can come back with us. We want it to be the four of us together one last time. Logan's going to stay here. He's fine now - he volunteered to stick around for a couple of days and then bring Anjuli to Westchester. For the funeral. I guess we'd better plan one."

"One of many."

"Do they know the death toll yet, Charles? I haven't kept up with the news."

"No, they're still finding bodies. Who knows what the total will be?"

"I know it's already more than we can bear."

"That it is. Oh, Scott. So many times I worried I'd lose one of you, but never thought it would be like this. Well, you're doing the right thing. Bring him home, son. The whole family needs to be together now."

Chapter 9: Risk Analysis

Dear Jean,

I hardly know what to say. I didn't want to bother you by calling but was so upset when I heard what happened. I immediately thought of Billy and called to make sure that he was okay and nowhere near Washington. But once he'd reassured me about his safety my thoughts turned to you and how kind and patient you've been with me over the past couple of months. How can these people be so consumed with hatred for mutants? Could they have started off like me, fearful of something that seemed too different? And instead of learning to understand and accept, the fear got worse until it turned to hatred and madness? I just don't see how, though. How can you lose your sense of humanity enough to do something like that? I guess I always thought of that as something that happens far away, in other countries.

I had been really touched by all you've told me of the struggles your young man has been through, both in his homeland and here. I was so distressed when I heard that he was on the site of the explosion. I certainly hope he will be okay. And my heart goes out to you and everyone at Xavier's for the loss of Dr. McCoy. He sounded like such a special person. What a senseless and horrible crime!

Please don't feel you have to respond to this letter - I'm sure you have more than enough on your plate. But I do want you to know that there's someone in Eastwood, ND thinking of you and wishing you comfort and, eventually, healing.

Fondly,

Virginia Halverson

Dear Tabitha:

Thank you so much for your letter and most particularly for the pictures. You should not have hesitated - you did absolutely the right thing to send them to me. I have almost no photos of Hank and me together and will treasure those always. That weekend at your beach house was a turning point for us. It was when we first acknowledged to each other our true feelings. I don't think I would have had the courage to tell him if you hadn't convinced me that he felt the same about me.

You asked how I'm doing and I don't even know how to answer. Life goes on and so does the research. Hank was right - we had identified all the compounds that make up the healing factor. Now I'm trying to reproduce them. It's a hard job but I'm making headway. Sometimes it feels like it's someone else doing it, though.

I think I spend almost all my time working, sleeping and crying. Sometimes I find it so hard to get out of bed in the morning. I'm managing to take care of myself, though - I eat regularly and well and make sure to go to all my doctor's appointments. I've got someone else to live for now, or at least a little hopeful beginning of a someone. Home they brought my warrior dead, but the child will live on, if all goes well.

The people at Xavier's have all been so wonderful. I think they were all very surprised to hear about Hank and me. Even Logan, who was staying at Hank's place, didn't know. He thought Hank was spending all those nights in the lab. Still, they've adjusted to the news and have completely welcomed me into the fold. It's almost like having a whole new family. Well, I had hoped they would be my family, in a sense, once Hank and I married. And maybe they are now.

Don't feel bad about missing Hank's funeral - it was a very small and private affair at Xavier's - no one from outside the school except for me. We are planning a memorial service for next month that will be much larger and I certainly hope you can come. In fact, I wondered if you would say a few words? As you are Hank's most distinguished student, his close friend, and the person who brought Hank and me together, I think it's fitting.

I told Professor Xavier and the rest about the pregnancy right after the funeral. I had been somewhat apprehensive but they were all very happy to get the news. They all seemed so excited - it was wonderful. Your Mr. Summers picked me up and swung me around, cheering. And then turned as red as his glasses with embarrassment when he realized he'd done that to someone he barely knows. But we're getting to know one another - I'm spending a lot of time with them now. And trying to remember to call them by their first names! This is your fault, since I think of them all the way you talked about them. I'm so glad you and Hank had been on a first name basis long before you introduced us.

So, I guess the answer to "How are you?" is "As well as I can expect to be, under the circumstances." Yes, please do come down here next week. I would love the time to just be together and talk at length. I'm appreciating my friends more than ever before.

Love,

Anjuli

Dear Adam,

Jocelyn and I had a long talk after our call. I'm now prepared to give you the whole story. I thought it would be easier to do this in a letter, just so I can be sure that I get all the details straight for you. Before I begin, though, let me say once again how very sorry I am for you that it has worked out this way.

Jocelyn says that you are quite right that she was certain of her decision and comfortable with it at the point of the baby's birth. Her story is just like yours - she had some sadness about giving the baby to you, but felt confident that she was doing the right thing and didn't hesitate to sign the preliminary papers. She believed that she could not, given her failing health, care for the child for very long and knew that her late husband's parents, with whom her other children are living, could never accept a child who was not their blood relative and whose birth father was a mutant. So she felt that adoption was the best course and had become very comfortable with you as the prospective adoptive parent. Her request that you not stay in touch with her was, she says, not indicative of any wavering or mixed feelings on her part, just a recognition that in the time she had left she wished to concentrate on the children she had truly parented.

Things changed for Jocelyn shortly after she left the hospital. She arrived back at her in-laws' house feeling like she had made a terrible mistake and burst into tears as soon as she entered the home. Her children and their grandparents were alarmed and worried that her illness had gotten worse. She reassured them on that score, but once the children were in bed that night she confessed to her husband's parents that she felt she had done the wrong thing, that she was depriving her new son of his siblings and them of him. She told her in-laws, for the first time, the whole story of how she had come to be involved with the baby's birth father at a time when her own illness and her husband's left her vulnerable and feeling in need of loving attention.

She said she was surprised by how understanding her in-laws were, how sympathetic to her feelings. Jocelyn said they seemed to truly understand how she came to have an affair and didn't judge her for it. She thought it amazing that they would forgive her for cheating on their son, and she was so appreciative of their attention and kindness. They asked if it was too late to rescind her permission for the adoption.

As you know, Jocelyn had the right to change her mind for a full month after the baby's birth and she told them that. Her in-laws encouraged her to go ahead and rescind the surrender and said that they would raise the baby along with the other grandchildren. She thanked them and cried as she told them that the birth father is a mutant, thinking that would change their minds, given the strong anti-mutant sentiments they had always voiced. She was surprised when they said the news made no difference to them. Jocelyn tells me that she feels the events of this past month have really shaken them up and made them rethink a lot of their anti-mutant feeling.

So, that's how she came to ask for the return of the baby you knew as Daniel. Jocelyn tells me she just couldn't face you, Adam, and that's why she asked me to come get Daniel from your home. I think it was probably the hardest thing I've ever done. I am so sorry for your loss, and don't know what to say. If you decide you want to try again, I will do my best to facilitate another adoption and hope that it will turn out differently. But I certainly know that Daniel will always in your heart be your first child.

Wishing you happier times,

Rhonda

Scott -

It's over. You were right - that creep was the one behind it all. All that investigative work paid off. Of course by the time we got to him, he wasn't using either that first name you found him under or any of the ones you'd tracked him through. He didn't look anything like the pictures, either. Not just changes from aging or different hair color - major plastic surgery. But we followed the leads you provided and caught up to him in Calgary and yeah, it's him. So maybe you're ready to graduate from Field Leader to Mastermind, if the Professor is willing to move over and make room. The FBI and RCMP seem to be working together to try to figure out who he really is, what his original name was, but "that creep" is fine, as far as I'm concerned.

You should've seen all the notebooks and clippings in his apartment. One of those classic paranoid types - documented everything. Once they figure out what to call him and work out the jurisdictional issues, whoever ends up trying him will have plenty of evidence to work with. Right now he's in the hands of the RCMP. I guess the U.S. and Canada will duke out who gets to lock him up. I vote for the U.S., since it's the only way there's a chance he'd fry.

I'm sending this letter with Martin Kline, the FBI agent who was our contact in Idaho. He came up here after we caught the creep and was the U.S. lead for the search and seizure effort in his apartment. Martin said he's supposed to report back to the Professor in Westchester. I was impressed - who knew Professor X had such close ties to the government? Anyway, Martin said you could have the picture I'm enclosing. There's plenty more like it here - I guess the creep was tracking mutants for a long time if he had a picture of you four when you were teenage heroes. I notice your arm's around Worthington in the picture - I won't ask where your hand was. Anyway, I thought you might like the snapshot - you all look so hopeful and young.

Mac and I are done here and leaving now. We're stopping in Ottawa for a couple of days, but we'll be back in Westchester in time for Hank's memorial service.

Logan

P.S. I wish to hell we'd found him six months ago. Tell Anjuli I'm sorry.

P.P.S. Kill the bearer of this letter.

P.P.P.S. I don't mean it. I just always wanted to use that line. Martin's okay, for a G-Man. Me, I'd rather have an X-Man.

Chapter 10: Second Chances

Funeral Blues:
A Memorial Service for Henry McCoy
May 16, 2010

2:00 pm

Xavier's Academy
1407 Greymalkin Lane
Salem Center, NY

"He was my North, my South, my East and West,
My working week and my Sunday rest,
My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song;
I thought that love would last forever: I was wrong."

from "Funeral Blues" by W.H. Auden

Immediately following the service
all are invited to join the family for coffee and cake in the garden.

"When Professor Xavier first asked me to speak here, I turned him down. I'd never said 'no' to Professor X before. Not that he's asked me to do so many things, but every once in a while he wants me to host some students visiting colleges in Boston or give a talk at a fundraising dinner or something. I spoke at commencement at the Academy last spring at his request. Something about being asked to do something by my old headmaster just makes me want to say 'Yes, sir!' and do it. But when he said he'd like me to speak about Hank, giving the view of someone who knew and valued him as a friend and colleague, I didn't feel qualified. I never even really understood his work and I thought that someone in his field should speak instead.

"Then Mr. Summers - Scott - asked me to speak. He said he wanted someone to talk about Hank as a teacher and that he remembered how Hank had nurtured and prodded my nascent interest in science and started me on my career. All true, and even though I was never on the team, all of us kids here were kind of programmed that you do what the Field Leader says. But I said 'no' to Cyclops, too. I was here for two years as a student - why not have someone who had been here longer, really grown up here, speak about what it was like to be instructed, challenged, cajoled and stupefied by his massive intellect and even more massive exuberance?

"But then Anjuli asked and I couldn't say 'no'. So, here I am and I'm floundering, trying to think what to say about Henry McCoy, my teacher, mentor, supporter, friend.

"Do I try to capture the joy and excitement of being in one of Hank's classes? Is there any way I can explain just how infectious his enthusiasm was? I don't know how, but I know that I learned to love science because he did.

"Do I try to tell you how gentle, how thoughtful, how kind and perceptive he was? I was not an easy student to teach. I came here - like so many others - after losing the home I had, losing everything and everyone I had in the world. And I was too defended to accept the care and concern that was offered here. In fact, I was pretty awful to a bunch of the teachers here, including Hank. But he persisted, and his excitement and his kindness made me find myself looking forward to Chemistry class like I'd never looked forward to school before. That was the start for me. Chemisty - and Hank McCoy - turned a sullen and hostile half-wild adolescent into a scientist. And a half-way decent human being. I'll always be grateful for that.

"But Hank was more than just a teacher. He was the sweetest man, with the most refined tastes, the greatest insight into people, the best practical jokes, and the strangest way of talking, of anyone I've ever met. I wonder whose joke it was to saddle him with the codename 'Beast' - I've never met anyone less bestial.

"When Hank and Anjuli fell in love it seemed foreordained. They are two of the most loving, caring and brilliant people I've ever met - they were clearly perfect for each other. I got a little frustrated with waiting for them to notice how perfect they were and decided to help things along a little - inviting them both to my beach house on Fire Island and then suddenly being called away. Okay, Anjuli, I admit it - it was a set up. I'm only telling you now because you can't hit me in front of all these people. Anyway, it worked and no one was happier than me that they got together, except for the two of them. They were destined to be one of the great partnerships - scientific and romantic - of all time.

"And then it was all over. Here I find myself, trying to find words to comfort my bereaved friend, and I have none, because none are adequate to convey what we have lost when we lost Henry McCoy. 'He was a man, take him for all in all, I shall not look upon his like again.'

"So, with Scott Summers sitting in the second row looking astounded that I know a line of Shakespeare, I think I'll stop here. Rest in Peace, Hank. We'll always remember you. We'll make sure that the baby knows just who his father was."

The service was over, and the reception afterwards as well. The guests who had just come in for the day had left and the students were all in their dormitories, hanging out or paying belated attention to homework before the start of the school week. The faculty, and the longer term guests had all dispersed to different parts of the mansion.

"I wasn't sure I could take any more of the baby talk." Adam was lying on top of Jean-Paul, his head on his lover's chest, in the big bed in Jean-Paul's usual room at the mansion.

"I'll bet. I was just looking for when we could escape, without seeming like that's what we were doing."

"I feel like a total louse."

"Pourquoi, mon amour? You've been through hell with Daniel. It's still raw. It was years after I lost Joanne before I could listen to that kind of thing."

"Yeah, but think about it. I'm *jealous* of Anjuli. She saw the man she loves killed in front of her eyes; she almost died herself. And I'm jealous of her - how sick is that?"

"It's not that simple, hein? You're not jealous of her whole life, just that she's having a baby. At least I assume it's not the widowed part you're envying," he added with an ironic chuckle.

"God no! What happened to her - to Hank - it's like my recurring nightmare come true. There are times when I wonder how I came to fall in love with a guy who spends his workdays in mortal combat. I'm a pretty peace-loving guy."

Adam felt Jean-Paul tense up. When he answered, his tone was guarded. "So am I. But sometimes it takes force to stop the guys who aren't."

"I know that. I wasn't being critical. I'm proud of the work you do in Alpha Flight - I'm just so scared of losing you."

"Je comprends. I was terrified of losing you, too. When you called after the explosion, I was just shaking with relief." They held each other close, silent for a minute. "What happens now, Adam? Will you try to adopt again? "

"I don't know. Some days I think I want to and others I just can't face it."

"You don't have to make a decision now. Maybe it's too soon to even think about it."

"Or maybe I need to try right away or I'll lose my nerve."

"So hard to tell, hein?"

"Jean-Paul, you've been so great about this - nobody could be more understanding." He lifted his head and looked into his lover's eyes.

"I love you. I want to support you." Jean-Paul smiled, a little sadly. "And I was getting a little excited, in spite of myself, at the thought of a baby."

"Really? I'm sorry. I'd hoped you'd get into the idea, but didn't want you to be disappointed along with me."

"It was the chance you took. And maybe I took it with you a little."

Adam hesitated before saying what was on his mind. "I don't know if I can try again, by myself. But I'd do it with you. We're a great couple; we'd be great parents together."

"Vraiment? You'd live with me, have a baby with me?"

"Well, we might need some help. We've been having unprotected sex for a long time now and nobody's pregnant here." Jean-Paul chuckled. "Yes, I want to live with you, if you'll have me. I want to have a child together. Do you think you can try again, after Joanne?"

"Oui, with you. I couldn't on my own, I know it. But together? With you, I can do anything." He laughed. "Okay, maybe not get pregnant. We'll figure out a way - adoption, surrogacy, I don't know. And it will be hard, scary - for both of us. Somehow we'll manage. I want a family, Adam. With you."

"I'll move to Toronto, if you want. You can stay with Alpha Flight that way."

"That doesn't matter. Commuting time isn't exactly a problem for me, you know. And I could take some time off from Alpha Flight, anyway. We could move to Saskatchewan and live at the outpost there. Or I could come live with you in DC."

"Saskatchewan, maybe. Not DC. I need a change - I don't want to go back to the Herald now. I could write that book I've been talking about for years. It's time to sit down and do it, or give up on the idea."

"The Great American novel?"

"Great American expatriate novel, I guess. Written in rural Saskatchewan." He kissed Jean-Paul deeply. "I'm hoping for a best seller. You know what sells, don't you?"

"No, what?"

"Sex, of course. I think I need to do some research. Will you help me out?"

"Toujours."

"Do you think it's strange?" Logan asked. He and Scott were in Scott's room, the rumpled bed and contented smiles ample evidence of what they'd done after the service.

"What?" Scott replied sleepily.

"This." He gestured to the two of them and the bed. "You know, one of our best friends died just over a month ago. We spent the afternoon listening to speeches about him, and then a reception and half the people are crying their eyes out. I miss him so much I can taste it. I know you do, too. So what do we do when it's over? Come up here and fuck like there's no tomorrow. Strange, isn't it?"

"I don't think so. I think it's fucking like there *is* a tomorrow, a way of saying there is a tomorrow. It's a life-affirming gesture, sex. When we have sex, we're reminding ourselves that even though we've lost Hank, life goes on." He reached for his glasses, the glow behind them indicating he'd opened his eyes. "Love goes on," he added and paused. Logan didn't answer.

Scott changed the subject. "Jean and Sasha asked me to be best man."

His lover looked a little surprised. "Yeah? You gonna do it?"

It was Scott's turn to be surprised. "Sure. Why wouldn't I?"

Logan shrugged. "I don't know. I thought it might feel weird to be in Jeannie's wedding like that. It's not that long ago that you were planning on being the groom."

"It seems like a million years ago," Scott said, after a while. "A whole life time ago, anyway."

Logan sat up and placed a hand on Scott's thigh. "Do you miss it?" he asked, looking away. "That life, I mean."

"No, not really." Scott thought about it a little. "I wanted a place in the world and I have one. You know, my life changed less than I thought it would, coming out. I'm still Field Leader, still teaching, still here. The big difference is that I'm not spending so much of my energy hiding - from others, from myself. It leaves room to do other things, think about my life a little more, what I really want to do.

"You know, Logan, we don't exactly have the kind of job where you can expect to get a gold watch. What happened to Hank could happen to any of us, anytime. On any mission. I don't know how much time I've got left. Well, nobody does, but let's face it - we live dangerous lives. A little less so for you, sure, because of the healing factor, but you're not immortal. We know that. I thought I lost you in Washington. I could have lost you, you know, if you'd been even a few feet closer."

"What's your point?" Logan looked away.

"My point is that I am jealous of Jean and Sasha getting married, but not like you thought. I'm jealous that she and I were both thinking we'd fallen in love with guys who'd never promise to stay. And then something terrible happened. Sasha came out of that in lousy shape and he's still working on getting better, but he came close enough to dying to change his mind, to make him reassess what he wanted out of life and what chances he was willing to take. I'm glad for Jean; I'm glad for them both. But I want the same thing." Logan looked at him quizzically. "No, not a wedding. I'm not looking to make some sort of public spectacle of you and me. I'd just like to know that whatever time we've both got left we're going to spend together."

"You're not starting that again, are you? There's no point in us arguing about this - it's going nowhere."

"We've been together more than three years now. It's too long to live like this, too long not to know if I'm going to wake up tomorrow and find I'm alone again."

"I told you I'll tell you if I'm going."

"That's not enough for me. I don't want you to tell me you're going; I want you not to go." Scott was pleading now.

"Like the song says, you can't always get what you want."

"So, what the hell are you here for, anyway? What are you doing with me?"

Logan didn't answer for a long time. When he did, all the sarcasm was gone from his voice. "I love you, Scott. As much as I can love anybody. More than I ever thought I could love anybody. I want to keep going like this - I want us to be a team like this. But this forever stuff isn't for me."

"Too risky? Not a chance you want to take? You're the bravest man I know, Logan, but when it comes to making a promise you're totally chicken shit." Logan didn't answer. "Sometimes you just have to take a chance to make something happen. I know we can't know for sure we'll stay together. But we've got a good shot at it if we're both willing to take the risk. I am. I sure wish you were, too."

Neither of them said anything for a while. When Logan answered, he spoke softly and bitterly. "You know nothing about the chances I take, the risks I run. I've been a loner as long as I can remember good. And what I do remember from before that doesn't make me feel all warm and fuzzy at the idea of trying to stay with one person. I tried to do that with two people, Scott. I killed the first and found the second one murdered. And my contact with other people after that has been as a captive and a fucking guinea pig, as an assassin, as a cage fighter." He paused to collect himself. "Any time I thought I might get close to someone I ran. It's how I'm programmed; it's the end result of a life that's been too fucking long and too fucking violent and too fucked up. It's what I did with you at first, too."

"Yeah, I know. I was there. I thought I'd lost you for good a couple times at least."

"Well, I'm not doing that anymore," he said, quietly. "I'm not running just 'cause I feel like I'm getting in too deep. But it doesn't mean I don't feel it. It doesn't mean I don't get that panicky cold sweat when I think about how much I need you and how if I don't go today it'll be harder tomorrow and even harder the day after that. There isn't a day that goes by that I don't think about bolting. But I haven't done it yet. You say, take a chance and make a commitment, take a chance and plan a life together. I say I'm taking a chance every single fucking day I stay. And you don't even notice."

Scott took a deep breath. "You're right, Logan. I'm sorry. We each have to take our own chances, do what we can. I hope you'll stay with me, but I won't ask you to promise anymore."

"If I can stay, I will."

"I know. And that will have to be enough. It will be enough. I'm willing to take that chance."

The End

Literature Guide for Taking Chances

In my stories, as in the X-Men movie, Scott Summers is a mutant superhero who also teaches high school. The movie doesn't specify what he teaches, but I've made him an English teacher. Xavier's Academy is a small school with a large variety of classes to choose from. Consequently each of the teachers takes on several different classes. Scott is seen in my stories teaching courses ranging from Shakespeare to Creative Writing to a poetry survey course, when he's not off on a mission. As Scott tells Logan in Canadian Nights, it's kind of a strange job. "Sometimes I teach English, sometimes I save the human race," he explains.

With Scott a major figure in most of my fiction, the stories tend to contain a lot of literary quotes, most of them guided by Scott's tastes in literature (which, strangely, mirror my own). It has been my practice to publish a literature guide providing references for the quotes in each series, along with URLs, where available, for those wishing to read the works quoted. This guide contains spoilers for the series and should be read after Taking Chances.

Poems

W.H. Auden. "Funeral Blues."
This heartbreaking poem gained renewed popularity when it was featured in the movie "4 Weddings and a Funeral". A portion of the poem appears on the announcement for Hank's memorial service, and the service is titled "Funeral Blues" as well, alluding to Hank's blue color. Thanks, Gariel, for suggesting using this beautifully tragic work. Read it at http://www.cs.rice.edu/~ssiyer/minstrels/poems/256.html.

Sharon Olds. "The Connoisseuse of Slugs."
Olds does what would seem almost impossible in this poem - she makes slugs sound erotic. Read the poem and see for yourself. It's at http://www.cs.rice.edu/~ssiyer/minstrels/poems/1003.html.

Carl Sandburg. "The Man With the Broken Fingers".
This poem makes a reappearance in Logan's first person story, "Ghost of a Chance," having been featured in my second series, "We're Not What You Think." Based on the true story of a Norwegian active in the Underground in World War II who was tortured to death by the Gestapo, it is a powerful and tragic poem. Logan identifies with the tortured man longing for death. I've been unable to find an online copy of the poem - a previous web text of it seems to have been removed. It's widely available in poetry collections, though.

William Shakespeare. Sonnet 116.
The Shakespearean sonnets figure largely in my stories. Scott teaches Shakespeare and is fond of several of the sonnets, in particular those addressed to the Fair Youth. In this series, though, it's Jean who quotes Sonnet 116. The poem is a paean to love and marriage and she thinks of it, and particularly about the idea of constancy in love amid changes in circumstances, when she's thinking about marrying Sasha. Read the poem and commentary at http://www.shakespeare-online.com/sonnets/116.html.

Alfred, Lord Tennyson. "Home They Brought Her Warrior Dead."
Adam quoted this poem in Safe House and it makes a reappearance here. It tells the story of a woman whose warrior husband dies in battle. She finds renewed purpose in her grief when she thinks of their child. Anjuli identifies with the woman in the poem, realizing that she has to take good care of herself because of her - and Hank's - baby. Read this brief, compelling poem at http://www.library.utoronto.ca/utel/rp/poems/tennyson19.html.

Virgil. "Eclogue no. 10, Gallus".
Jean says in the first story that she loves Sasha but certainly doesn't believe that love conquers all. The phrase "love conquers all" (Omnia vincit amor) comes from this poem of the classic Roman poet Virgil. Read the poem in Latin or in English at Tufts Universities fine classics e-text site, Perseus. The Latin copy is at http://www.perseus.tufts.edu/cgi-bin/ptext?doc=Perseus%3Atext%3A1999.02.0056&query;=head%3D%2310 and there's a button to switch to English.

Novels

Miguel de Cervantes Saavedra. Don Quixote de la Mancha.
This classic picaresque novel tells the tale of Don Quixote, who fancies himself a medieval knight. The term "quixotic" has entered the language from this novel, used to describe those whose idealism is out of touch with reality. Scott perhaps quotes from Cervantes's novel when he says "least said soonest mended." This phrase is also sometimes attributed to Brewer's Dictionary of Phrase and Fable, but as Don Quixote predates that work by 300 years, I'll credit Cervantes. The Project Gutenberg edition of the novel is at http://digital.library.upenn.edu/webbin/gutbook/lookup?num=996.

Plays

William Shakespeare. Hamlet.
There are a few quotes from Hamlet in this series. Jean says that sharing Sasha's memories grappled him to her with hoops of steel. That image is from Polonius's advice to Laertes, his son. Tabitha quotes Hamlet's description of his father in summing up Hank's life at the memorial service. And Logan jokingly tells Scott to kill the bearer of the note he sends with Martin Kline, echoing what happens to Rosencrantz and Guildenstern. Read the whole play at http://www.shakespeare-online.com/plays/hamletscenes.html

William Shakespeare. Othello.
Jean-Paul teasingly accuses Adam of loving him for the "dangers he has pass'd", as Desdemona did Othello. Read this tragic love story at http://www.shakespeare-online.com/plays/othelloscenes.html or see the wonderful Olivier filmed version.

Miscellaneous

Shakespeare's Will.
Scott's Shakespeare seminar students are discussing the Bard's will when Scott feels Jean crying. Shakespeare did indeed leave his wife, Anne Hathaway, his "second best bed". The students speculate on the significance of that provision. Read Will's will at http://shakespeare.about.com/library/weekly/aa101000a.htm.

The Declaration of Independence.
Scott says that what he wants for him and Logan isn't a public commitment but a private one, that he wishes for them to mutually pledge their lives, their fortunes and their sacred honor. The line comes from the Declaration and he acknowledges that, saying he is mixing metaphors of patriotism and love. He uses the quote to try to explain to Jean that he's not looking for marriage, like she is, just a private pledge to cast their lots together. Scott likes the Declaration as a work of literature and has used it in his classes before. The text and a lot of supplementary information can be found at the National Archives and Records Administration (NARA) site. http://www.archives.gov/exhibit_hall/charters_of_freedom/declaration/declaration.html.

The Emancipation Proclamation.
Scott jokingly threatens to send Wendy a copy of the Emancipation Proclamation because of her rule against "poaching" personnel. This key American historical document declared on the first day of 1863 that all slaves in the Confederate states were freed, although it took a later military victory to enforce that. You can read it at the NARA site, along with historical and explanatory notes. http://www.archives.gov/exhibit_hall/featured_documents/emancipation_proclamation/emancipation_proclamation.html.

Nigel Nicolson. Portrait of a Marriage.
British diplomat and historian Harold Nicolson and novelist Vita Sackville-West had an open marriage long before the term was coined. Both partners were bisexual and had lovers of both sexes while remaining committed to each other. Their son, Nigel Nicolson, uses their letters and diaries extensively in this history of his parents' marriage. It's a loving and understanding portrayal of a remarkable and unusual approach to love and life. Scott suggests that he and Jean get back together and marry, while still having sex on the side with Logan and Sasha respectively. When Jean asks him if he's kidding, he asserts that he is, that such a plan is "way too Harold Nicolson" for his tastes. This book is not available online for copyright reasons, but is widely available in bookstores and libraries.