New X-Men

               As the sun fell across her desk, Kitty Pryde – Headmistress Pryde – shook the sheaf of papers in her hand and looked up at the man sitting across from her.  Roberto da Costa was grinning at her.  Despite the heat wave that had gripped the city, he was impeccable, as neat as a razor.

               And just as sharp.  Kitty leaned back in her chair.  “A little on the nose with this one, aren’t you, Bobby?”  She raised her eyebrows and went on, “When you told me you wanted to lead a field group of X-Men I should’ve guessed where it was going, and to be fair, I wasn’t about to laugh you out of here like I did Havok—

               “I appreciate the distinction.”  Bobby said.

               “Right.  Anyway, here’s the thing.  Some of your prospects aren’t even talking to each other—”  Kitty said.

               “Easily remedied.”  Bobby said.

               “Some of them have lingering emotional baggage after intense personal losses that makes them vulnerable.”  Kitty went on.

               “…True.”  Bobby admitted, with a diffident shrug.

               “And one of them, I’m loathe to let out of my sight again.”  Kitty narrowed her eyes.  “Besides, the two of you never got along.”

               “We didn’t get along when we were fifteen.  And fifteen is a long way gone, as you well know.  The X-Man in question needs to feel useful, to know that… that not only do his friends want him around, there are things for him to do.  That he is not, and has never been, the third wheel.  Accurate?”  Bobby’s smile took on a faintly wintry tone.

               “…Accurate.  Which is why he’s on a plane on his way to London right now.”  Kitty said.  “You’re sure about this?  The student squad you knew is a long way in the rear-view mirror.”

               “Kitty,”  Bobby said, leaning forward, all earnestness, “If Thanos landed right now and I was forced to hand-pick a team to take it to Grape Ape, believe me when I tell you that I’d take this roster, slap She-Thor and Hercules in there, and have at him.”

               “…She-Thor?”  Kitty said.

               “She’s got the eye of the tiger.”  Bobby said, waving it off.  “Anyway.  At this time, in this moment, none of these people are dead, non-functionally insane, on another planet, or worse, on another team.  It might last for a month, it might last for a year—but I think my curriculum vitae proves that I can lead a team of X-Men… and I’m in a place to ask you for exactly the team that I want.”

               Kitty waved the paper, teasingly.  “And Miami?”

               “You have New York covered.  California’s got too much emotional baggage attached to it.  Miami is an eyeblink away, the way we travel.  It’s a major city that doesn’t get a lot of coverage.  And I happen to own a building there that I can convert into an X-Men base.  Besides… it’s a grand excuse for an overworked Headmistress to come supervise and then go to the beach.”

               Kitty put her finger over her mouth.  “You know, Tony Stark is right—you really could sell a sno-cone to an Inuit.  All right.  Sold.”  She glanced back at the paper.  “Commander answering directly to Shadowcat, Citizen X.  XO and morale officer, Cannonball.  Combat theater leader, Moonstar.  Hand-to-hand combat specialist, Wolfsbane.  Psi-ops, Karma.  Occult ops, Magik.  Firepower specialist, Magma.”  She paused.  “Nice pun.”

               “Thank you, it took me all night to think of it.”  Bobby said, his eyes glittering.

               “Tech-ops and unorthodox operations, Cypher and Warlock, functioning in a co-capacity.”  Shadowcat set the papers down on the desk.  “With additional X-Men requisitioned from Shadowcat as necessary.  Okay, Bobby – you have your team.  If you can convince all of them to buy in.”

               “Oh, I did that last night too.”  Bobby said, his grin widening.  “See you in Miami, boss.”

               Kitty rolled her eyes and put her chin in her hand.  “Get out, Bobby.”

               Bobby got up, and put his hand on the doorknob, and then paused.  “…You know, Doug was right?  You really do have Bette Davis eyes.”  He slipped out the door just in time to avoid the sheaf of papers, as Kitty picked them up off the desk and whipped them at him.

The night before…

               Doug’s phone buzzed, and he picked it up.  “Moshi-Moshi.”

               Bobby’s voice came out of the phone.  “Hey, Doug.  I’m putting the band back together.  If you say no…”  A moment later, Bobby texted him a picture of an ‘Elvira’ pinball machine, which he was holding out over a balcony with one hand.

               Doug blinked at the phone.  “You wouldn’t dare.  That’s blackmail!”

               “Well, you’re right, I wouldn’t, it’s an American Classic.  But I will absolutely, definitely not let you play it.”  Bobby said.

               Doug paused.  “…Who else is in.”

               “The whole crew.”  Bobby said.

               Doug raised an eyebrow.  “I can tell by the inflection in your tone that I’m the first one you called, you know.”

               “Yeah, well, they’re going to be in.”  Bobby said.

               Doug tapped his finger against his jawline for a moment.  “…Okay.”

               “Knew you’d jump for it!  No take-backs!”  Bobby hung up.

               Doug looked at his phone in disbelief, and then returned to packing.

A little later…

Bobby opened the door and peered into the room.  Sam was unkempt, half-dressed, sitting and ignoring a TV that was on, displaying the news, face fuzzy with several days’ growth of beard.  “Heyyyyy, buddy.”

               Sam looked up, and then with a sigh, shifted over to one side of the sofa.  Bobby slipped in and picked up a pair of boxers.  He grimaced and tossed them away, before he sat on the couch next to Sam, and threw a friendly arm around his shoulders.

               “Sorry Bobby,”  Sam said, “I’m low.”

               “Lower than a hog’s belly in the holler?”  Bobby said.

               “…Yup.”  Sam closed his eyes.  “She left me, Bobby.  Izzy left me, and I can’t figure out why.  I went from bein’ a man with a family to a man with nothin’.”  Sam paused.  “…You know what I mean.”

               “Well, in an abstract sort of way I do.”  Bobby said.  “Look… I can’t get rid of this pain for you.  I would if I could.  You know that!  I’d do anything for you.  I’d kill for you.  You know I would, because I have.”

               Sam winced.

               “Hey man, in some ways our life is a series of pretty portraits, some of them of ugly stories.  It’s like your therapist told you – denial of events and repression of your emotions are the enemy.  So, if you need to be sad, be sad.”  Bobby looked around.  “But… being sad in this dark and kind of smelly suite in the middle of the school isn’t going to be as helpful as maybe being sad in a penthouse in sunny Miami with your closest friends.”

               Sam paused.  “…I don’t know if I can stand to be in the same room with Dani right now without losing my cool, Bobby.”

               Bobby grinned, wide.  “She’s got other stuff going on right now.”

               Sam paused.  “…Okay.”

               Bobby beamed.  “Right!  Now, you smell like a taco food truck, so why don’t you go get a shower and shave and then we’ll go down to the kitchen and I’ll see if we can’t have the cook whip you up some of those disgusting scrambled eggs and squirrel’s brains without the girl with the antlers finding out and getting upset again.”  Bobby winked.

               Sam grunted, and then sniffed one of his armpits, before giving a deep wince.  “Lordy.  …You promise Dani’s sitting this one out?”

               “I promise that when you get to Miami, she won’t be there.”  Bobby said, crossing himself.

               Still later…

               “…So, I told Sam a little fib.  Half a fib really.  It’s a technical truth, which is really still the truth.”  Bobby said, as he walked with Dani along the school grounds.  “You’ve got to take Brightwind to the Valkyries horse show in Asgard,  so you’re going to be delayed getting to Miami for a few days, and when you show up I’ll have him relaxed and mostly defused—and then you two can settle this, probably by punching one another in the face, which is generally how you two do things.”

               Dani gave Bobby the side-eye.  “I get the distinct feeling I’m being played.”

               Bobby held up his hands.  “Hey, hey.  I manipulate my enemies, never my friends.  My friends I just… occasionally nudge a bit.  So, they’re in the right place for good things to happen to them.  It’s my way of saying ‘I love you’.”

               Dani snorted, and then looked down.  “I feel awful, Bobby.  I wish I could fix this.  I didn’t—”

               “You did.  But sometimes, you do.  It’s an endearing part of who you are… unless someone happens to be the person on your list.”  Bobby sighed.  “He’ll forgive you.  Just… say you’re sorry and mean it, and eventually he’ll cave.  He doesn’t blame you for Izzy walking out.  He doesn’t blame anybody but himself.”

               Dani’s hands tightened into fists.  “Yeah… that’s bugging me, Bobby.  On the list of men you walk out on with no explanation, where would you put Sam?”

               “Oh, right before the Holy Father and right after the Hulk, for different reasons.”  Bobby said, easily.

               “Yeah.”  Dani said.  “Yeah.  Something stinks, and I think I’m not going to be happy until Izzy freakin’ Kane fesses up.”

               “Dani…”  Bobby said, “…You sound dangerously like you’re preparing to meddle.”

               “It’s not meddling.”  Dani said, as they walked along, “It’s information extraction.”

               “Just be careful,”  Bobby said, as they strolled into the house, “You two are a lot alike, and she might surprise you…”

               Later still…

               Amara looked up from her cell phone as Bobby walked into the room.  “I’m still mad at you.”  She said.  “Also, Doug texted me.”  She held up her phone.  “I’m in.  Now get out of my sight.  I’ll tell you when I can stand to look at you.”

               Bobby gave a double-thumbs up, a sickly grin, and backed out of the room.

               Amara went back to her phone.  “Miami… I’m going to need all-new bathing suits.  Ooh, that one’s skimpy.”  She looked toward the door, and smirked.  “Men looking at me in it’ll drive him crazy.  Buying it!”

               After that…

               “Self is not happy that SelffriendKitty sent Selfsoulfriend on a journey without Self.”  Warlock said, to Xi’an, as the two of them sat leaned over a chessboard.  Warlock absently moved a bishop, taking one of her knights, and putting her king in check.  “Self declares ‘Check’ against SelffriendXi’an’s playing piece, designate:King.”

               “Good movie.”  Xi’an said, stroking her chin.  “You feel that the two of you have grown apart—and you’re unhappy about it.”

               “Self feels like Selfsoulfriend is rejecting Self.”  Warlock affirmed, as he scanned the game with an eye on a stalk but kept his gaze on Xi’an.  “Self is not even sure SelfsoulfriendDoug is aware.”

               “People think on multiple levels.  It’s beyond dispute that he loves you,”  Xi’an said, as she moved a rook, taking the Bishop and freeing her king, which also put the rook in a position to protect it.  “But I think coming back the way he did took awhile to catch up with Doug.  And then the business with True/Friend left him unmoored… directionless.”  She glanced back up at Warlock.  “He didn’t get a chance to grow up with the rest of us, Warlock… to find out who he was.”  She paused.

               “I believe… somehow, that you had his soul all along.  You held it in trust—you kept it with you.  All Eliphas Bard resurrected was meat and mind.  So, I don’t believe he was ever really dead… ever really gone.”  Xi’an paused.  “But that doesn’t change the fact that he’s a man unmoored.  The people who were fixtures in his life have all changed, and for a person as invested in pattern as Doug, that’s jarring.  A moment of self-doubt, and he wound up questioning everything around him.”

               “Self has not changed.  Self remains self.”  Warlock said, a sulk creeping into his voice.

               “Oh Warlock,”  Xi’an said, giving him a sympathetic look.  “You’ve changed so much.  You used to need Doug… now Doug needs you.”

               “Self still needs SelfsoulfriendDoug.”  Warlock said, moving a piece.

               “You do…”  Xi’an said, “But you don’t depend on him.  Not the way you did.  In some ways… when Doug is with you I think he feels dependent on you… and like he’s a burden to you.”  As Warlock began to protest, Xi’an silenced him with a smile.  “You know how proud and how stubborn he can be.  Now imagine that in a man who’s cramming almost a decade of growing up psychologically into a couple of years… after a deeply traumatic second birth?”

               “Self… Self does not wish for SelfsoulfriendDoug to push Self away.  Self wants to help him.”  Warlock said.  “SelffriendXi’an has put Self in checkmate.”  He said, eyeing the board.  “In four moves.”

               “Three moves.”  Xi’an said.

               Bobby chose this moment to tap on the door.  “Ah, hello.  I’m sorry to interrupt – actually I’m not sorry, I was out in the hallway listening to the whole conversation.  I wanted to talk to the two of you.”

               Xi’an tilted her head.  “You’re trying to put the gang back together.  You were broadcasting.  You’ve already got Doug, Sam, Dani – you fibber!  And Amara to agree.”

               “Self will go where SelfsoulfriendDoug goes.”  Warlock said.  “Even if he is trying to find who he is apart from Self.”

               Xi’an looked up at Warlock, and then said, “And that’s why you’re a wonderful friend, Warlock.”

               She glanced toward Bobby.  “I have my own irons in the fire.”

               “I’ll help you make them happen.”  Bobby said.

               “I want to handle them my way.”  Xi’an said, as she began to collect chess pieces to put them away. 

               “And I’ll help you do that.”  Bobby said.  “I can’t do this without you, Xi’an.”

               Xi’an smiled.  “You can.  But you don’t want to.  And that is why I’m going to say yes.  But now you have the tough jobs.”

               Bobby puffed out his cheeks, and says, “Yeah.  Rahne and Illyana… I think I’m up to it, though.  Wish me luck?”

               “Oh, Bobby… who needs luck when you have skill?”  Xi’an said.

               Warlock’s eyes changed sizes.  “Self has objective proof that SelffriendBobby can do anything.”

               Bobby looked up, and the corner of his mouth turned up.  “And that… is all the fuel I need to make the final push, ‘lock.  That’s all I need.”

               A short time later…

               Illyana looked up from her scrying pool, at the sound of the knock on a door.  She waved her hand and it opened, causing Bobby to stumble in a half-step.

               “May I help you, Roberto?”  She asked, her voice cool.  As Bobby righted himself and sat on her bed, Illyana murmured, “…Make yourself comfortable.”

               Bobby looked up and met Illyana’s gaze.  “I’m getting the team back together.  So far, I’ve got everybody in, except for you and Rahne.”

               Illyana looked back down into the pool.  “This is a pointless exercise in nostalgia, Bobby.  Sam is riddled with suppurating insecurities.  He’s weak.  Dani failed as a leader, and because of her incompetence, Doug almost jumped off a cliff.  Rahne is a ruin.”  She turned back to her scrying pool.  “If what you are hoping is to resurrect the corpse of what we were when we were children, then you are a fool.”

               Bobby stroked his chin.  “And what if that’s not what I’m looking to do?”

               Illyana didn’t look up.  “Go on.”

               “We can only be who we are now, ‘Yana.”  Bobby leaned in, earnest and serious.  “I’m not trying to wind back the clock, and I’m not trying to go back to being students discovering who we are in that grand old pile.  We know who we are.  And we know how to work together… how to multiply our strengths and compensate for one another’s weaknesses.  I’m talking about putting together a team of full-fledged X-Men, with a cause and the ability to accomplish great things.”  He laced his fingers together.  “And if it happens to reunite us as a family—well, then I just happen to get everything that I want.”

               Illyana waved her hand over the scrying pool, the image within wavering and breaking apart beneath her hand.  She looked up, sharply.  And then, ever so slightly, her expression softened.  “…It’s the nature of families to drift apart, Bobby.”

               “To that, I retort, Ecclesiastes three, one through eight.”  Bobby said.  “But for your sake, I’ll spare you the full recitation.   I want this, Illyana.  And if you’re not here, I don’t have it.  You tell me what I need to give you, and I’ll give it.  I’ll get it.  I’ll do it.  I have plenty of pride but absolutely no shame.”

               Illyana was quiet, for a long time, and then she looked up, and met Bobby’s eyes.  “You trust me.”

               “With my life.  We’re family.”  Bobby said.  “We’ve gone through too much together for me to ever think you could turn on us.”

               “That’s a childish way of seeing things.  But then again…”  Illyana said, rising, “You’ve always been a paradox.”  She threw back her head, suddenly, and laughed, clear and hard.  “A scheming idealist, who manipulates people into being their best selves!  Oh…”  She reached back and ran her fingers through her hair.  “I have missed you.  I’m in.”

               “You’d already decided before I got here,”  Bobby said, his voice wry.  “You just wanted to harrow me.”

               “You’ll never know.”  Illyana said.

               And finally…

               “Bobby da Costa,”  Rahne said, curling her claws into the trunk of a tree, “Are ye daft?”  She set her ears back and gave Bobby a steely glare.

               “Rahne…”  Bobby said, holding his hands up, palms out, “…Please?”

               Rahne paused and blinked.  “Please?  Please?  I’ve nae doubt ye made grand pitches tae sell the others on this bloody mad idea and you look me in the eye an’ the best mister clever git can come up with is please?”

               Bobby’s mouth flattened into a line.  “Well, you know—I have to make a judgment call on what’ll work.”

               “An’ ye think that a please will bring me on board.  Ye think that I think so highly o’ ye that ye can win me over with a heartfelt please.”  Rahne gave Bobby a disgusted look.  “…Ye know me too well.”

               Bobby gave a wide, beaming smile.  “I do.  Now…”  he held his arms out, “Can I get a hug?”

               Rahne rolled her eyes and gave a smirk, before she stepped out, and wrapped long arms around Bobby.

               Bobby embraced Rahne warmly.  “No takebacks,” he murmured into her hair.

               Rahne quirked her mouth.  “Ye wicked thing!”

               The next afternoon…

               The stepping-disk opened out into the penthouse, and the group stepped out into it, all together, sans Doug and Dani.  The penthouse was well-lit, with furniture covered in white sheets, spacious.  Bobby looked at the others, and then set down his suitcase.  “Welcome to Miami HQ.”

               He walked forward and looked around.  “Everybody take a minute to get settled in, claim a room, relax a bit—and then…”  He turned around, and his smile glowed, full of promise and not a little delight.  “And then… to me, my X-Men.”