Pennies on a Train Track

By Perri Smith
Copyright 1997

Notes

Takes place right after Generation X '95, well before Beast is replaced by Dark Beast, and before Onslaught and Operation: Zero Tolerance. Apologies for the accents if I mess 'em up. (I particularly apologize for Jono...).

Events to date (if you're too lazy to read 'Hazard'): Shea (pronounced Shay) O'Reilly is forced to reveal her mutant powers to save the life of an acquaintance, Chase Matthews, in the small Oregon town of Copper Lake. When the Bureau of Mutant Affairs attempts to take the young mutant into custody, it's Chase's turn to rescue her; with the help of Jennifer Walters (a.k.a. She-Hulk), the pair seeks sanctuary with the X-Men. That plan fails miserably and the two are forced to cross the country on their own in a desperate attempt to find safety at the Massachusetts Academy. 'Pennies' is continuous to the ending of Hazard.

Shea O'Reilly, Chase Matthews, the Bureau of Mutant Affairs and all employees thereof, and the town of Copper Lake are copyright by me. Generation X, She-Hulk, and the X-Men et al belong to Marvel and are used without their permission. Agent Van Dyke bears no resemblance whatsoever to Miss Parker on 'The Pretender'. Nope, none at all. And Agent Peterson doesn't look a thing like Sydney. < g >

Thanks to my beta readers Martha (and cat), Hawk (a.k.a. She Who Points Out Plot Holes Big Enough to Drive Motorcycles Through), and the usual suspects. You know who you are.

Dedicated with affection to Tom DeFalco. Just because.

Prologue

It was always hard to sleep during a storm.

Not that Jubilee was afraid of thunderstorms or anything stupid like that. But never knowing when the thunder was going to crash, and the way the lightning strobed the room, making the shadows dance -- it was enough to make *anyone* a little jumpy. Especially when you'd had really bad experiences with sudden, loud noises in the past.

Lightning flashed and thunder shook the walls simultaneously, the rain rattling against the windows with renewed intensity. Jubilee jumped and looked over at the other bed, where Paige was peacefully sleeping, oblivious to anything other than her dreams.

Jubilee glared half-heartedly at her roommate, then tossed back the covers, reaching for her robe and rabbit slippers and dragging them on over the huge T-shirt that had been Wolverine's, until she'd snagged it months before. Sleeping was definitely out; she might as well go see what was on television.

The girl's dorm had once held upwards of fifty girls, when the Massachusetts Academy had been a 'real' private school, not an extension of Xavier's Institute. These days, the upper two floors were empty -- Jubilee and Paige had staked out a corner room in one of the 'towers' and Monet had chosen an attic room.

As she crept through the halls, Jubilee wondered idly what the dorm had been like in the Hellions's time, bursting with people and noise. Now, the silence echoed oddly between rolls of thunder.

To her surprise, a flickering light came from the TV room, accompanied by the scent of fresh popcorn, and canned laughter -- 'Hogan's Heroes', from the sound of it. She shoved the door open the rest of the way, half-expecting the unpredictable Monet.

But it was Chamber who sat on the couch, remote control close at hand, Artie and Leech even closer, curled next to him on the cushions. *'Ey, Jubes,* he said psionically.

She leaned against the doorframe. "What're you doin' here, dude? TV at your place broken?"

He shrugged; at least, that was what it looked like. It was hard to tell, sometimes, through the layers that swathed his upper body. The glow from his chest flickered in counterpoint to the light from the television. *Nah, we just thought the storm might make some of you gels nervous,* he said with a significant look at the two younger boys. *'Sides, I couldn't sleep.*

Jubilee grinned, willing to go along with the gag to help the 'kids' save face. "No one around here's nervous, Sparky, but thanks for the thought. Gonna share that popcorn?"

He held out the bowl in a 'be my guest' gesture; she took a handful and settled on the other end of the couch, munching contentedly. Leech instantly leaned against her knees; she grinned down at him, then back at Jono. "Anything better on?"

*It's 2:30 a.m.*

Leech yawned widely, without removing his eyes from the television. "Show is funny," he said through the yawn. "Leech like." Artie seconded the motion with a small hologram of himself rolling on the floor laughing.

"Looks like we're outvoted anyway." Jubilee reached over Leech to grab another handful of popcorn. They watched the inmates of Stalag 13 in silence for a half-hour, then settled on 'Mork and Mindy' after a brief 'discussion'. Robin Williams gave way to 'Three's Company' and they changed channels in mutual accord, stopping at MTV for lack of anything better.

Artie and Leech had both fallen asleep along the way, Leech using Jubilee's feet as a pillow, Artie sprawled on the carpet along the bottom of the couch. The storm still raged outside, but it was easier to ignore it from the warm comfort of the dorm.

A-ha was doing Jubilee's favorite video, 'Take On Me', when Jono sat up abruptly. *Did you hear that?*

Jubilee cocked her head to listen. "Don't hear anything but the hayseed snorin'," she shrugged, without taking her attention off the video. The girl had just been tossed out of the comic book back into the diner, leaving her boyfriend trapped with the bad guys. "What'd *you* hear?"

Jono stood up, trying not to step on Artie. *Someone's callin' f'r help. Outside.*

Jubilee gave the video one last, regretful look, then bounced to her feet, barely remembering to get them out from under Leech first. "Let's check it out."

*Let me wake Ms. Frost, first.*

She made a rude noise. "And if you're wrong? She gets woken up at double-o-dark-thirty, you get caught in the girl's dorm after hours and we both get busted. Clue, please, this is *not* a good plan."

He thought about it, then nodded. *All right. But if we run into any trouble...*

"You give her a call on the ol' Psychic Hotline and the cavalry comes runnin.' Let's go."

They were soaked within two seconds of leaving the dorm. Jubilee had thought to replace her robe with her trenchcoat, but kicked off her huge bearpaw slippers when they started squishing after a few steps. Jono ducked lower into his black leather coat.

"Where was it coming from?" Jubilee almost had to shout over the noise of the storm.

*Over there, near the front gate.* They slogged their way across the grass to the paved path, heads down against the rain. The gate loomed ahead of them, the black iron silhouetted against the lightning. And, in front of it, was a monster.

Jubilee disgraced herself by stifling a shout, feeling even more stupid when the 'monster' separated into two people, one riding on the other's back. The rider, a girl, waved at them, calling weakly.

"Hey!" Jubilee called back. As they watched, the girl slipped from her companion's back to the ground and stood close to him, shivering.

*Get the gate,* Jono ordered, running forward to the pair. Jubilee fumbled for the computer controls, protected by a heavy steel panel, and managed to remember the correct access code. The doors opened silently and the girl tried to say something, but started coughing instead; the guy first steadied her, then swung her back up into his arms when the choking didn't stop.

Both of the strangers were wearing jeans and sneakers -- soaked through and not much use in a Massachusetts early spring anyway, although the guy had a leather jacket which looked as if it had seen better days. The girl was wearing a battered ski jacket with a strange, rubbery look, which still hadn't done much to stop the rain.

"We'd better get 'em inside, Jono," Jubilee concluded.

Chapter 1

"Natalie Wood gave her heart to James Dean
A high school rebel and a teen-age queen
Standing together in an angry world
One boy fighting for one girl"
-- Shenandoah, 'I Want to be Loved Like That'

Shea Leanne O'Reilly had basically been having a lousy week. When you start out getting caught in an attempted armed robbery, are revealed as a mutant in a town that's scared to death of anything new, and wind up escaping by the skin of your teeth from a government agency, pneumonia and a thunderstorm just add insult to injury. But she found it hard to concentrate on indignation, badly distracted by her wet jeans and the pain in her chest.

It was certainly easier to think about that than the two people who'd let them in and were leading them to the huge house that was, apparently, the Massachusetts Academy, otherwise known as Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters.

Sure, the two kids were friendly. But Jono, the tall, dark-haired Brit in the leather jacket, had the terrifying habit of talking in her head, and she kept seeing flashes of light working their way out from beneath the bandages that swathed his neck and lower face. Were those flames she saw under there? Couldn't be, they weren't burning through his jacket or anything. But they sure looked like flames....

She clung a little harder to Chase's neck. At least the girl, Jubilee, wasn't doing anything overtly weird, other than wandering around in the middle of the night in a T-shirt and a yellow trench coat. She was small, about 13 or 14, but her mouth more than made up for her size, since she didn't stop chattering questions and comments the entire walk up the driveway.

"Where did you two come from -- it's, like, a really long walk from Snow Valley. Didja hitch? That's totally a mondo bad idea; never know what kinda crazies are gonna be wandering around...."

Shea traded a look with Chase at that comment; considering what they'd been through, an ordinary, everyday kidnapper or pervert would have been just fine.

*This's the main house,* Jono announced, cutting into the girl's monologue, still without saying a word out loud. He shoved the big door open with an effort -- it took both him and the girl to shut it again against the wind. The sudden silence was brutal. *I asked our headmaster and headmistress to meet us down here.*

"S-Sean?" Shea stuttered hoarsely, trying to pretend it was just her teeth chattering, which they were.

"Yeah," the girl said with narrowed eyes, sudden suspicion on her face. Shea could relate. "How'd ya know that?"

"We were told he ran this place," Chase said, his voice annoyingly calm, but his arms trembled slightly around Shea's back and under her knees.

"Told by who?" the girl demanded.

Jono silenced her with a look. *The cross examination c'n wait until Mr. Cassidy and Ms. Frost come, Jubilee.*

"Then ye willnae have t' wait too long." Shea almost jumped, discovered her shock circuits were burned out, and instead thanked whoever was listening that the new arrival spoke out loud. And with a familiar, comforting Irish brogue, no less.

The tall, handsome man, whose hair was almost the same color as Shea's, had appeared from an office to the side of the long, winding staircase; he stood in the open door, studying them with calm, penetrating eyes. Sean Cassidy, without a doubt.

As he looked them over, the penetration gave way to something much warmer, but no less calm. "Welcome t' the Xavier School for Gifted Youngsters. Although we normally don't get visitors at this time o' th' night... well, mornin'," he said with a smile that didn't quite hide the tensed muscles in his back and shoulders, as if he was prepared to attack if they turned out to be a threat. Chase's arms tightened around Shea in response, suspicion radiating from every line of his body

Still, Shea got the distinct impression that the Irishman was *trying* to broadcast trustworthiness and goodwill, and tried in return to look helpless, which wasn't hard. "We're sorry," she rasped, trying to sit up as much as possible in the cradle of Chase's arms. "We didn't know where else to go. A... friend said we'd be safe here."

"Really? Who would that friend be?"

*And away we go,* she thought with resignation, before answering, "Jennifer Walters. She said she told you we'd be coming."

"Ah." He seemed to relax suddenly; stress lines faded from his face as she watched. " Shea O'Reilly and Chase Matthews, o' course. We've been scourin' the country f'r days and nights, and y' casually stroll up the front walk. " He laughed slightly at some joke Shea didn't get, shaking his head. "Y'll fit in well around here."

*All right, he was expecting us! He was worried about us!* Shea started to laugh in sheer relief, but it turned into a choking cough; Chase's arms tightened around her again until it passed.

"I, uh, wish you'd found us," he said over her head, still not able to hide his nerves, at least, not from her. "The last few days... haven't been fun. The government..."

"The government was after you?" Jubilee popped in, her mobile face and expressive eyes a study in curiosity, the suspicion of a moment before already forgotten. Shea would bet real money the kid couldn't get away with a lie to save her life. "Are you mutants?"

"Yes." Shea got her breath back, bracing herself out of sheer habit. "I am."

No one even blinked. "Well, ye've come t' the right place, then; this school swarms with them. I'm Sean Cassidy, headmaster of Xavier's. These two curfew-breakers--" Jubilee made a face at him, but otherwise ignored the charge, "-- are Jubilation Lee and Jonothon Starsmore. And the two o' ye are more than welcome here, I assure ye."

He meant it; she could see it written in his eyes. Warm, friendly eyes with gentleness and strength in them, which reminded her of nothing so much as her father's. The strength seemed to drain out of her and she sagged against Chase, expecting him to relax also.

But he had gotten more tense, if possible, the muscles in his shoulders straining against his skin. She started to comment, but he shook his head, once, without loosening his clenched jaw. Fear returned in a rush; she closed her eyes, and tried not to give into the tears that threatened as another coughing attack took over, ripping through her lungs.

"Jono, please take Chase and Miss O'Reilly t' the infirmary," she heard Mr. Cassidy say over the coughs. "I'm goin' t' go give Jennifer a call, let her know her lost lambs have arrived. Jubilee, I would appreciate it if y'd wake Emma."

"Too late."

*How many people are we going to meet tonight?* Shea wondered, forcing her eyes open one more time to meet the new arrival, trying hard to control her breathing. It was a tall blond woman, dressed all in white except for the large amount of skin that was on display through her lacy gown and peignoir set -- she probably would have been beautiful, Shea thought, if she didn't project ice. She stole a glance up at Chase to see his reaction, and saw that his eyes were focused on the woman; but there was only caution in their narrowed green depths. Despite his tight lips, he managed to grin crookedly down at Shea; she felt the heat rise in her cheeks, and tried to stop coughing, with only a little success.

"How nice," the woman said, her voice suggesting it was anything but. "Unexpected visitors."

Mr. Cassidy's voice held a warning as he spoke to her. "These are the two She-Hulk was tellin' us about last week. They've had a hard time gettin' here, so how about givin' them a break until mornin'?"

Shea's eyes widened at the tension that had suddenly appeared between the two, but the woman only raised an eyebrow at his tone. "Of course. I'm Emma Frost, the headmistress," she introduced herself calmly, her eyes taking in Shea, then narrowing with unreadable emotions as she studied Chase. "Come to the infirmary and we'll deal with that cough, Shea."

Given the choice, Shea would have rather stayed with the warm Irishman than this ice queen. But Mr. Cassidy smiled encouragingly at them, so they trailed reluctantly up the stairs behind Emma Frost.

*****

The infirmary was high-tech to end all high-tech. Due to various running injuries, Shea had spent a lot of time in and out of emergency rooms, but she didn't recognize even half of the equipment.

"Check this out," Chase whistled in spite of himself. "It *is* Star Trek."

"Not quite," Ms. Frost said repressively. "But it should suit our purposes. If you would please put Shea down...?"

Chase hesitated a long moment, his eyes skimming over the room and then back to Ms. Frost, but he finally lowered Shea to the surface of what appeared to be an examining table, hovering nearby as Ms. Frost started playing with the console next to the table, staring at the flashes of light as if they meant something to her. They were incomprehensible to Shea, who watched them nervously, expecting to be zapped at any moment.

"Congratulations," Ms. Frost finally concluded out loud, "You have an impressive case of walking pneumonia."

"Oh, joy." Shea rolled her eyes, not terribly surprised. Things had been going that way, lately.

"Trust you," Chase commented, prowling from the table to the window in the far wall and back without ever removing his eyes from Ms. Frost. "On the run from God and everybody, and you get pneumonia."

Shea wanted badly to hit him, even if he was just echoing her own thoughts, but couldn't figure out where she was going to get the energy. She settled for groaning, "This never happened to Linda Hamilton."

The Terminator reference got no more than raised eyebrows from Ms. Frost; there wasn't even a flicker of humor in her pale blue eyes. "I'm going to keep you here in the infirmary until we get this cleared up. As for you, ah, Chase, I believe Jonothon has prepared a bed for you in the boy's dormitory. You can go there after I inspect your head."

Chase's hand twitched towards the swollen, cut lump on his forehead. "I'm staying with Shea."

Ms. Frost's eyebrow went up again; she was something less than pleased. "I assure you, Chase--" she said his name with an edge that should have drawn blood, "-- no one is going to attack your... friend while she is at the Massachusetts Academy."

He shrugged with deceptive casualness. "I'm staying with Shea."

Ms. Frost's eyes narrowed at him in a killing glare, but he only returned it, his face almost blank. The staredown continued until Shea's fascinated observation was broken by another fit of racking coughs. Surprisingly, it was Ms. Frost who caved first, but she didn't look happy about it. In fact, she looked truly pissed, the first real expression Shea had seen her show.

"All right, you may use the other bed for tonight." She gestured past him at a second bed tucked against the wall a few feet away. "Tomorrow night, you will move into the dormitory." It was an order, not a request, but Chase let it go, apparently content to win tonight's battle. As Shea sat up and swung her legs over the side of the table, he sat down and allowed Ms. Frost to examine his head injury.

Mr. Cassidy appeared carrying a small pile of clothes, as she pronounced Chase owner of a major goose bump, but no concussion, and handed medicine to both him and Shea.

"Here's some dry things and extra blankets for ye," Mr. Cassidy smiled, his green eyes crinkling at the corners. "I thought ye might be pretty uncomfortable. There's some scrubs for you, Chase -- I couldn't find anything around t' fit ye. Hopefully we'll be able t' make due with Everett's clothes tomorrow."

"If they're dry, I'm happy." Chase stood and took the clothes, separating his out -- *What is a school infirmary doing with scrubs,* Shea wondered, *and do I want to know?* -- and tossing a heavy sleepshirt to Shea.

She looked from it back to him and Mr. Cassidy; Mr. Cassidy took the hint. He smiled again and left the room, saying, "Pleasant dreams," over his shoulder. Chase just sighed and turned his back as she stripped out of her wet clothes and squirmed into the sleepshirt, conscious of Ms. Frost's eyes on her the whole time. "Okay, you can turn back around."

"Gee, thanks."

"As the two of you seem settled," Ms. Frost said pointedly, "I would like to get some more sleep."

Shea heard the unspoken accusation behind the words. "We'll be fine," she mumbled uncomfortably. Ms. Frost nodded once and swept out of the room, shutting the door behind her.

"Real warm and friendly atmosphere," Chase said with an acid look at the door. "Gotta love the welcoming committee."

"Hey, the others seemed okay, and Mr. Cassidy is great."

"You just think that because he looks and sounds like your dad."

"And?" She pulled back the sheets on the small, twin-sized bed, and got in, savoring the feel of dry clothes, clean sheets, and a soft mattress. "Besides, how do you know what my dad was like?"

"You told Jennifer he was Irish." Chase stripped off his shirt and shoes, letting them drop into a soggy heap on the floor, before he went into the small bathroom. "And you showed me the picture in your wallet."

The wallet that was now in some police evidence locker, but Shea tried not to think about that. "Yeah, well, okay, he does. But it's more than that -- he seems like he actually cares. God, he was practically waiting up for us!"

Chase came back out of the bathroom, dressed only in the bottom of the scrubs, which dangled several inches above his ankles and rode low on his hips. His dark brown hair was tousled, his green eyes half-closed with fatigue, and one swollen almost shut by the lump above it. He might look like a younger, taller James Dean, Shea thought with a sudden rush of possessiveness, but James Dean had never looked like this.

"Whatever," he said, dropping his jeans onto the pile of wet clothes. "Good thing I'm skeptical enough for both of us."

"You're skeptical enough for at least five people." She moved over automatically as he lay down on top of the covers next to her, pulling one of the extra blankets over himself. Conflicting instincts fought in Shea until insecurity won; she snuggled up against his side and buried her face in his shoulder, feeling him stiffen.

"We did the right thing," she said, her voice muffled by his skin. "I know we did."

He sighed heavily, then finally put his arm around her, pressing his cheek to her hair; she felt the gesture clear down to her cold toes. "Sure, Shealee. Sure we did."

She knew neither of them was convinced.

Chapter 2

"It's been twenty long years and my heart is raging
Something to believe in spite of the fears
You know it don't come easy"
-- Adrenalin, 'Road of the Gypsy'

Shea was sleeping like a baby, tucked under three blankets and snuggled into the white linen sheets. Whatever Ms. Frost had done had quieted her coughs -- Chase checked her forehead one more time, pulling the blankets more securely under her chin. The fever was going down, too.

He sighed and let his head fall back to the pillow case, shifting his legs to lie more comfortably on the too-short bed. The storm had finally subsided, leaving the gentle patter of rain against the roof as the only sound in the room. Lights shone and flickered on the consoles across the room, lending odd shadows to the shadows. He tried to ignore them, closing his eyes and ordering himself firmly to sleep.

It didn't work. Too many thoughts flashed through his mind, too many worries. *I should feel safe, like Shea. Jen is good people, so this crew must be okay. But, dammit....*

He'd made too many mistakes before in his life -- trusting the wrong people, trusting himself -- and wound up flat on his face in the mud. He couldn't afford to make any mistakes now, not when he was responsible for Shea, too.

Shea coughed quietly against him, stirring; he rubbed her back under the blankets until her breathing went back to normal. She was curled against him trustingly, her face even younger than her sixteen years in her sleep. *She's just a kid, for God's sake. *Someone* has to take care of her.*

*Yeah, right,* another voice mocked from inside his head. *But who in this crazy place is going to take care of you?*

Finally, completely unable to sleep, he shifted his shoulder out from under Shea, brushing her heavy copper-gold curls away from her face. She was still pale, her skin pulled tightly against the bones of her round, wide-cheeked face, her stubborn chin set even in sleep. She murmured once in protest as he left, but quieted quickly under the influence of her medication; he opened the door as silently as possible and slipped into the hall.

The rubbing of his scrubs sounded like a shout in the near silence of the hall. The main house was dark, the only light coming from the bottom of the long staircase. With the light came quiet, almost inaudible, voices; Chase followed them to the bottom of the stairs, slipping once and nearly killing himself on the water they'd tracked in earlier. He regained his balance with a whispered curse, grateful he was in bare feet, and settled back on the foot of the stairs to listen in.

It wasn't that he was paranoid, about mutants or anyone else, he told himself, just that the last few days hadn't really been the type that build your trust in the kindness of strangers. And the people in this place were too *damn* strange for his peace of mind.

Besides, contrary to Shea's frequent snipes, he paid attention to the news -- he knew what mutants were capable of, and the chaos that seemed to follow them around, even when they weren't actively causing it. Hell, Shea was living proof of that. He had to be sure they hadn't stumbled into even more trouble.

Conscience quieted, Chase opened his ears for some serious eavesdropping.

"--nifer's coming, then?" Ms. Frost was saying coolly.

"Aye, she said she'd be here tomorrow... this afternoon," Cassidy answered, fatigue evident in his voice. "She wanted t' get into a car the moment she got off the phone, but I was able t' convince her Shea needs t' rest. I don't think Jennifer's goin' t' believe the children are all right 'til she sees them f'r herself -- she's been throwin' things since she found out about th' fiasco in Denver."

"So I've heard. Have you contacted Charles yet?"

"I was about t' call the Institute when ye came down. If we're t' be awake t' deal with wanderin' waifs at 4 a.m., someone there can be, as well."

There was the sound of a dial tone from a speaker phone, then a series of numbers. The other end was picked up before the second ring. "Xavier Institute for Insomniacs," a bass voice yawned tinnily.

"Actually, I've no problems sleepin'," Cassidy joked, "it's the children showin' up on me doorstep in the wee hours that bothers me."

"Children? Jennifer's two?" The other voice was suddenly very wide-awake. "Where did you find them? When? Where are they?"

*How the hell many people were looking for us?* Chase wondered uneasily, shifting his foot before it could go to sleep.

"They showed up on our front steps, o' course," Cassidy answered ruefully, "so ye c'n call off the search. They're in fairly good shape, I think, although I'd like ye t' have a look at them soon. All in all, they proved t' be surprisin'ly resourceful; I think they survived rather well."

"The girl, Shea, developed a case of pneumonia, and has a nasty slice on one hand," Ms. Frost contributed. "I have her in the infirmary now; I don't believe she is in any danger. The boy has a head injury, not too serious. Not even a concussion."

"I look forward to hearing their story. I will depart in the morning to check on Miss O'Reilly, and I'm sure Professor Xavier will wish to accompany me."

"That'll be fine, Hank. We'll be expectin' ye. Ah, should we be expectin' anyone else, d'ye think?"

"I... couldn't say for certain. From what She-Hulk says, the government would like very much to gain control of the girl, and I can't imagine they'd give up easily. Shea is in the foster care system, and a minor. I understand the government's first attempt to take her was made through Child Protective Services -- they may attempt legal maneuvers again. But, of course, they would have to locate her, first." Hank -- whoever he was -- sounded thoughtful. "Unless the children are far less capable than Shulkie believes them to be, the representatives of our fair and impartial government should not yet become a concern."

"I hope y're right, Hank. We'll see you in the mornin'." Cassidy hung up and groaned with what sounded like a stretch. "We're goin' t' be havin' lots o' visitors tomorrow."

"Wonderful," Ms. Frost sighed, sounding slightly more human. "We'll have to speak with Jennifer about giving our address out."

"Y' know I told her she could," Cassidy said, sounding tired. "Where else was she supposed t' send the children?"

"Still, I have to wonder what trouble these two have brought with them. And I am particularly uneasy about the boy."

"He looked like a good enough lad. What makes ye worry?"

"I worry about anyone who comes in here without good reason. He's not a mutant; what's to keep him from telling the world at large about what's really happening at Xavier's School? About Generation X?"

"Y're paranoid, woman; just because he's not a mutant doesn't mean he's not trustworthy. Besides, he seems damned protective of the lass; I'm not thinkin' he'd endanger her."

Ms. Frost's voice was hard and unconvinced. "I still don't like it."

Cassidy sighed as if giving up. "Well, I'm sure they're nothin' we're not up to, considerin' what the others've already put us through." A chair creaked as if someone was getting up; Chase shot to his feet, ready to haul ass back up the stairs. "And ye'd better loosen up towards the boy if we want them t' decide t' trust us and let us help."

"Perhaps, but...."

As Ms. Frost's voice came closer, Chase retreated to the infirmary, bare feet soundless against the wood floor. No one spotted him and Shea was still asleep when he crept in; again ignoring the second bed Ms. Frost had directed him to, he lay back down beside Shea, drawing the top blanket over them both. She instantly curled back up against his shoulder, working her injured hand over his bare chest, and he hugged her tightly, resting his cheek against her hair.

"Where'd you go, Butch?" she murmured sleepily, without opening her eyes.

"Nowhere, Sundance," he answered softly. "Go back to sleep."

She obeyed, for once, leaving him to cradle her against him like a teddy bear and stare into the dark room, wondering what the hell they'd gotten into this time.

The Sandman was a long time coming.

*****

Chase woke to the sound of shouting voices outside and the sun shining much too brightly through the window, directly into his eyes; he groaned and tried to roll over, but couldn't, since a warm weight was planted firmly on his chest. Trapped and too groggy to figure out how to get free, his head aching with renewed ferocity, he just groaned again.

"Ah, one of the wayward travelers is re-emerging to the land of the living," someone said from across the room. Chase pried one eye open and attempted to follow the sound back to the source....

And nearly jumped right off the bed at the sight of a large man covered with blue fur and, incongruously, a white lab coat, sitting at one of the computer consoles and peering at him over the top of half-glasses. His instinctive jolt of shock was enough to disturb Shea, who was still sprawled half on top of him; she murmured and rolled over, then opened her eyes. One sharp gasp and she started coughing again.

Chase got it back together quickly, recognizing Henry McCoy from the TV. Jennifer said this guy was okay. "Chill, Shealee," he told her, trying to stay calm and not let his instinctive fear take him over, as he reached over to pound on her back. "He's not gonna bite."

"No, really?" she rasped, visibly trying to control her breathing. "I never would've guessed that, *Charles*."

One of the helpful backslaps drifted up to smack the back of her head as she used his real name. She yelped through a cough and threw him a glare of death over her shoulder.

"Time out, please," McCoy intervened smoothly. "I believe enough damage has been inflicted on both participating parties, without attempting to add, ah, insult to injury, as it were." He took off his glasses and stood up, crossing the room to offer his hand... paw... whatever. "I am Hank McCoy, more affectionately known as the Beast."

"Chase Matthews, Shea O'Reilly," Chase performed his half of the introductions, forcing himself to shake McCoy's hand with only the slightest of hesitations. The palm was callused, the hair on its back soft and silky. "When did you get here?"

It came out more abruptly than he'd intended, but McCoy didn't even blink. "I arrived but a few brief moments ago. I have been taking the opportunity to study your medical charts -- you've managed to inflict quite a bit of damage on yourselves in a short time," he observed with a tone caught between admiration and censure.

Shea had also taken McCoy's hand, and was now using it to struggle to a sitting position. Chase assisted her with an arm behind her back, settling her against the pillows. "Thank you," she managed to say sarcastically to McCoy, her vocal cords obviously protesting every word, "we tried really hard."

She rubbed her wrists with her bandaged left hand unconsciously, trying to soothe the bracelets of bruises that surrounded them. Reminded, Chase rubbed his own bruised wrist against his jeans. Handcuffs were not kind to skin and bone, especially when the users were annoyed.

"My erstwhile colleague Mr. Cassidy has requested full physicals for both of you," McCoy continued, not even stopping to acknowledge Shea's wisecrack, although Chase saw his eyes sharpen as they studied the matched bruises. "How is your head?"

Chase shrugged. "Aches a little, but it's not as bad as yesterday."

"I should hope not. Any dizzy spells, blackouts, spots before your eyes? How long were you unconscious?" McCoy leaned forward to inspect the bump and the scabbed cut over it; Chase shook his head to answer the questions and forced himself not to recoil as McCoy stared into each of his eyes, covering first one, than the other. "And what did you hit, by the way?"

"A gun."

McCoy's eyebrows, distinguishable from the rest of his fur only because they were bushier, went up, but he didn't comment. "You appear to be in adequate condition; your head is mending itself nicely. I recommend food and, perhaps, some minor exercise, both of which are, I believe, available without. Don't overdo; if your head begins to hurt or you grow dizzy, stop at once and have one of the children fetch me."

Chase took the pointed hint and swung his legs off the bed, groaning as every muscle in his body protested the movement. He stood and pulled the top to the scrubs over his head, then hesitated, looking from Shea to McCoy. It wasn't that he didn't trust McCoy, not really; it was just that...

*Okay, dammit, I don't trust him. Not in this place, and not with Shea.*

"Chill, Chase," Shea said as his hesitation stretched on, speaking as sweetly as one can through laryngitis. "He's not gonna bite."

He let the snipe go, sending a Look at McCoy. "If you need me, yell," he told Shea. "I'll be around."

Shea rolled her eyes at him, but her grin was suspiciously wobbly, her face uneasy. "I will. Go feed your face."

Unhappily, he retrieved his sneakers from the floor and went.

The remains of lunch for a *very* large crowd were still in the dining room when Chase came down the stairs, carefully avoiding Cassidy's office. Someone was banging pots in the kitchen; he didn't stop to look, but piled cold cuts and cheese between several slices of bread, grabbed the first piece of fruit he saw, and followed his ears out the front door, wolfing the sandwiches as he went.

The weather had improved, at least, although heavy clouds threatened to bring more rain before the day was over. The grounds were even more impressive in daylight than they'd been the night before -- wide green lawns stretched to meet stands of very old trees, just beginning to show new growth. The buildings themselves were nearly as old as the trees, all soft brick and fancy carving. The front porch on the main house sprawled out like something from Tara; a large, late model luxury sedan was parked in the long, twisting driveway, next to the large marble fountain which tinkled away. Old money, and lots of it, was the obvious conclusion. Grimly determined not to be intimidated, he wandered around the side of the house towards the back.

The yells and shouts he'd heard from the infirmary window eventually resolved themselves into the distinctive sounds of a bloodthirsty two-on-two match, being played out on a wide basketball court. A covered pool stretched to the side of the court, behind a volleyball pit, and the wide back porch held several chair and tables, as well as spectators to the game.

It seemed as if a serious mismatch was in progress at first glance -- the girl from the previous night, Jubilee, was teamed with a slender, fragile-looking blonde girl about Shea's age, against a tall black guy who matched Chase for build, if not height, and a big Samoan in a loud Hawaiian shirt, who weighed more than both his opponents put together. Chase leaned against the corner of the house and settled in to observe, but the spectators quickly drew his attention away from the game.

Jono was leaning against a picnic table on the sidelines, wearing the same leather jacket and strips around his chest as he had worn the night before; an eerie light still flickered from behind them, although paler in the sun. A skinny gray guy, whose skin fell in loose wrinkles over and around his Lakers tank top and baggy shorts, sprawled next to him, smoking a cigarette. Two hyper kids who looked to be about eight or nine chased each other around the table; one was pink and bumpy, the other green.

"Okaaay," Chase told himself after a minute, trying to shake off the creeping itch on the back of his neck and feeling the muscles in his shoulders tighten automatically. "Green, gray, bright pink and on fire. Helluvan audience."

A rush of motion on the court caught his eye. Jubilee had the ball, but was being effectively blocked by the black guy; she suddenly broke right and ducked around him, dribbling down the court while the other girl watched her back -- unnecessarily, since the Samoan guy had apparently been taking a nap.

"Mondo, stop her!" the black guy yelled with frustration.

"But she's going to score," the aptly-named Mondo pointed out in a deep, cheerful voice. "Don't you want her to do well?"

"Not when she's on the other team!" It was too late; Jubilee reached the end of the court and bounced higher then she should have been able to. The ball went through the hoop, nothing but net.

"Yeah!" she exclaimed, trading high-fives with the blonde. "How's that for sportsmanship, hayseed!"

"Nice shot, chicas!" the gray-skinned guy yelled around his cigarette, the little kids bouncing up and down enthusiastically. Chase almost thought he could see something next to the pink one, but couldn't figure why a disembodied thumbs-up would be floating around in mid-air.

The black guy caught the rebound, shaking his head ruefully. "18-8, J, your favor. No offense, Mondo, but I'm changing partners."

Mondo didn't look offended, but both girls instantly reacted. "No way, Ev!" the blonde said with a smug grin and a trace of a Southern accent. "You chose him, you have t' stick it out."

Ev looked at her pitifully. "I know Jubes hasn't got a heart, but you, Paige?"

Paige's grin got wider. "All right, we'll go easy on you." She lunged forward and caught Ev flat-footed, knocking the ball out of his hands and spinning to shoot a perfect lay-up cross-court. "20-8. Game's over, we win. Now you can choose a new partner."

Chase involuntarily started laughing at the look on Ev's face, gaining the attention of both players and spectators. He swallowed a mouthful of bread, thought about it, then lifted the rest of his sandwich in a casual salute in their direction. "Hey."

"Welcome back to the living, dude," Jubilee caught the ball and started dribbling it absently, grinning widely at him. The yellow trenchcoat of the night before had been replaced by holey jeans and a faded pink sweatshirt; matching pink earrings bobbed above her shoulders. "Nice black eye. Where's your friend?"

"Getting examined." Chase polished his fruit -- which turned out to be an apple -- on his sleeve casually, trying to hide his deep-seated, uneasy awareness that any of these 'kids' could probably take him out, age and weight advantage notwithstanding. It was not a comforting thought. "Good shot."

"Which one, hers or mine?" Paige asked, crossing her arms and giving him a suspicious look. She was also in a sweatshirt and jeans, both in much better condition that Jubilee's, with Lila Cheney's logo splashed across her chest. Everett wore jeans as well, with a long-sleeved Cardinals jersey. His steady regard matched Paige's.

Chase tightened his jaw and returned the look, answering Paige's question. "Both of 'em."

Paige didn't look any happier, but nodded. "Thanks. Ah have brothers."

Jubilee's eyes drifted past him suddenly, and she grinned, slightly maliciously. "Better not turn around."

Naturally, he started to turn and jumped when something touched his back, twisting the rest of the way. He found himself face to face with something dark red and spiky, reaching clawed hands out towards him, its face lost in shadows.

Chapter 3

"When the world turns you in circles and the wind is at your face
And you need somewhere to run to, I know the place."
-- Collin Raye, 'I Volunteer'

Shea watched Chase go with mixed feelings; she didn't particularly want a witness to a physical, but she also did *not* want to be left alone in this place. And, although she was slightly embarrassed at the clear warning he'd sent Dr. McCoy with his last sentence, she *really* appreciated the sentiment.

The doctor's eyes were as kind as Mr. Cassidy's, but they weren't much of a distraction from his thick, alien, pelt of blue fur; and for all her wisecracks to Chase, she didn't know much about mutants either, even if she was one.

"Sorry about that," she forced herself to shrug out of politeness, without looking up from an intense study of her wrists. "It's been kind of a bad couple of days."

"No offense taken, I assure you," Dr. McCoy told her with studied cheerfulness. "I look forward to hearing the entire story."

"It'll take a while," Shea warned. A yawn crept up on her, stretching her jaw until it cracked audibly, and, of course, sending her off into another coughing fit. "Sorry," she apologized once more when she got her breath back.

"Again, no offense taken." Dr. McCoy carefully took her left hand, first inspecting the bandage on the palm, then looking over the bruises. "I believe your hand wins the battle for first priority. How on earth did you manage this?" he asked, gently unwrapping the gauze Ms. Frost had changed the night before.

Shea looked at the ugly, half-healed gash, which slashed right across the perfect M that the lines of her palm used to form. M for mutant.

The image of the stoned kid who had attacked Chase less than a week before flashed in front of her eyes, sending a shudder down her spine. "A knife. Someone tried to hold up the grocery store at... " She couldn't bring herself to call Copper Lake home. "Where we used to live."

Dr. McCoy didn't seem to notice the hesitation; he turned away to rummage in a cabinet, withdrawing a syringe and a labeled ampoule. "It's not infected, so you seem to have received reasonably competent treatment; however, it should have been stitched days ago. I'm afraid you're going to have quite an impressive scar."

"Chase took care of it. We couldn't exactly go to the hospital -- I kinda got it using my powers."

"Ah, yes," he replied absently, filling the syringe with quick, deft movements that belied his bulk. "Jennifer mentioned that incident. You transmogrified the knife to rubber, correct?"

Shea winced as he injected something into her hand, which quickly went numb. "Cool, another Calvin and Hobbes fan. Yeah, I did, but we couldn't tell the sheriff that -- our story was that it had been rubber all along."

"A tale which would have been quickly disproved by the evidence of your injury." Dr. McCoy nodded, setting stitches quickly and competently; Shea did *not* watch. "A perfectly logical conclusion, if somewhat injurious to your physical condition."

Shea blinked, trying to decipher the polysyllables, and settled for a rather blank, "Yeah, right." A memory suddenly clicked into place in her admittedly foggy mind. "You were at the airport, weren't you?"

He winced visibly, but his hands didn't stop work. "Yes, I was among the lively bunch who attempted to meet you in Denver. The X-Men asked me to convey their profound and collective apologies for being unable to complete that mission. Psylocke, in particular, expresses her regrets."

"Psylocke?"

"The, ah, telepath who attempted to call you back from your hasty, if fully justified, retreat stage left from the airport debacle."

Shea wasn't about to forget the voice that had shouted in her head, spurring both her and Chase from fright into total panic. "Yeah, right," she repeated, trying not to sound *too* pissed off. "That wasn't a real smooth move; Chase almost crashed the bike."

"So she became aware." He took the last stitch and reached for fresh bandages. "I would advise light use of your hand for the next several weeks, and absolutely no heavy lifting with either arm, until the bone bruises heal."

"I know the drill."

"Excellent. Now, allow me to examine your chest." He pulled up the stethoscope that had been dangling around his neck, settling the ends into his ears, half-hidden beneath his fur; unlike most doctors in Shea's experience, he also took a moment to warm it in his large hand before helping Shea sit forward and sliding it down the back of her sleepshirt.

"Cough, please," he said, listening to the instrument with an intense, professional concentration. Shea obeyed, then couldn't stop; his big hands patted her gently on the back until she could breathe again. "One more time," he requested with a warm smile, "but with slightly less enthusiasm, if possible."

She returned his grin and somehow kept control of the cough this time. "Very good," he praised, "Now take a deep breath." They went through the entire lung procedure, then he helped her sit back again and took her temperature and blood pressure, calmly explaining what he was doing the whole time.

"It appears Ms. Frost was correct," he concluded eventually. "You have indeed acquired quite a thorough case of pneumonia. I'll begin you on antibiotics immediately, and we have a few... non-standard treatments available which should assist you in a speedy recovery."

"Great," Shea rasped, annoyed by how quickly her energy had flagged. But any nervousness she had felt around Dr. McCoy had evaporated; he exuded an aura of warm humor and safety that was impossible to resist.

At the barely concealed irony in her reply, he glanced over the clipboard he had been scribbling on, lifting one bushy eyebrow over the glasses he'd replaced, in a good imitation of Mr. Spock. But he didn't actually comment, just put the clipboard down and slipped his arms under her knees, lifting her effortlessly off the bed. "Upsy-daisy, as they say."

Shea giggled, caught by surprise; it was like being carried around by the world's greatest stuffed animal. She had to fight back the urge to snuggle into the soft fur at his neck, and could barely make herself let go as he lowered her back down to the examining table Ms. Frost had used the night before.

"Lay back, please," he requested, fussing with the lights and panels that ringed the table. She obeyed -- and almost jumped off the table when it started humming, a pale light rising from the surface. Warmth spread through her body.

"I assure you, Miss O'Reilly," Dr. McCoy chuckled, "this will not hurt you. In fact, I believe you'll be feeling a great deal better tomorrow."

She wasn't happy about it, but couldn't quite bring herself to believe this giant teddy bear would hurt her. She lay back on the strangely comfortable molded headrest and tried to relax.

Dr. McCoy nodded in satisfaction. "Do you feel up to another visitor?" he asked, looking her over assessingly. "Or would you rather rest?"

Shea looked at him sideways. "Depends on who the visitor is."

He half-smiled, then finished with the clipboard and hung it from the bottom of the bed, going back to the cabinet to find another syringe. "The Professor accompanied me from Westchester," he said over his shoulder. "He would like to converse with both you and Chase regarding your, ah, adventures."

"The Professor?" She thought, then her eyes widened as she made the connection. "*The* Professor? Charles Xavier? He's here to see *me*?"

She was amazed enough that she almost didn't feel the prick of the needle in her arm. "I'm not aware of the existence of another," Dr. McCoy said, struggling to keep a straight face. But even the fur couldn't hide his amusement at her reaction.

Embarrassed, she tried to fall back on Chase's 'I'm too cool for the room' expression, which apparently needed more practice. Finally, she just shrugged casually. "If he wants to come in, I guess that's okay."

"I'm sure he'll be pleased to accept your gracious invitation," Dr. McCoy answered gravely, his eyes twinkling at her through his glasses. "I'll go deliver it."

Shea blushed and watched him leave. Charles Xavier -- she'd been vaguely aware of his existence for most of her life, like she was aware of who was president and who was currently sleeping with whom in Hollywood. He made the news some nights -- more frequently these days than before -- and occasionally showed up on the covers of magazines she glanced at in the check-out line at Graves's Groceries.

She probably should have started paying more attention when her mutant powers had decided to show up, but she had been so very busy trying to pretend they didn't exist, to ignore everything that had to do with mutants. She'd concentrated on school, and running, and hadn't given herself time to think of anything else.

But that over the last week, she'd discovered just how important her powers, and Charles Xavier, were going to be to her life. He was the driving force behind her sanctuary at the Massachusetts Academy, and his decisions would determine her future.

Not a happy thought.

*I will *not* hyperventilate,* she told her struggling lungs firmly. *He's just a guy. Practice self-control. Be cool. Be cool.*

It was easy to say -- much harder to do when the brown-suited man in the wheelchair actually rolled through the door. Half-watched newscasts hadn't prepared her for the way he seemed to fill up the room without saying a word, or the air of authority and confidence that radiated from him. Nothing had prepared her for a personality so strong it seemed to override everything else in its way, simply by existing.

*Definitely a mistake, Rita,* her subconscious babbled, caught in Animaniacs mode for some bizarre reason. *Coming here was definitely a mistake.*

Swallowing hard, she forced herself back into coolness and met Professor Xavier's eyes as he rolled next to the bed, only to get another shock. They were pale blue eyes, reserved and formal, but with none of Ms. Frost's chill. Eyes which combined all the attributes of a concerned father, a dedicated teacher, an instinctive leader, and an Army drill sergeant in their depths. Shea was at once comforted and wary, relaxed and completely terrified.

*This is what the President should look like,* she thought vaguely. *Or maybe God.*

His face contorted slightly as she finished the thought, and her stomach sank, remembering a voice invading her mind outside an airport. It seemed silly, but.... "Are you, um, a telepath?"

"Yes," he answered calmly. Even thought Shea *knew* his reassuring expression was phony, it almost worked. "I am."

So much for reassuring. Shea groaned and covered her eyes with her arm, her cheeks turning bright, neon red. "Warn people next time you're gonna poke around in their heads!" she shouted through her elbow. "That is so wrong!"

"You are, of course, correct." He sounded sincere; she worked up the nerve to peek out from under her arm. "I apologize for reading your thoughts, Miss O'Reilly -- I'm afraid you, ah, broadcast them rather forcefully."

"Yeah, well, try earplugs, or whatever," she grumbled, trying to move from embarrassment to righteous indignation.

Still peering from underneath her arm, she was treated to what she sensed was a novel sight -- Professor Xavier looking slightly guilty. "Again, I apologize."

"Yeah, well..." Her blush had faded enough that she could come out from behind her shield, but she couldn't quite think of anything else to say.

Professor Xavier looked equally uncomfortable, casting around for a topic of conversation. "I, ah, understand you came here with a companion."

"Dr. McCoy kicked Chase out a little while ago -- he's probably downstairs feeding his face." She made a face. "I wouldn't mind doing that myself."

As hints went, that would have been broad enough for even a non-telepath. "I believe that can be arranged. Hank?"

Dr. McCoy's head appeared around the half-open door instantly. "Yes, sir?"

"Is Miss O'Reilly allowed to eat?"

"Of course. " Dr. McCoy winked broadly at her and came the rest of the way through the door, bearing a tray of food. "In fact, you might say you read my mind."

Shea groaned again, fighting back her blush, and Professor Xavier actually smiled for real. Dr. McCoy did something to the control panels of the table that made it slowly incline upwards like a hospital bed, then set the tray in front of her with a flourish. "Chicken soup, hot tea, and a grilled cheese sandwich, made with the hands of our own lovely Miss St. Croix."

"Thank you," Shea breathed, closing her eyes to savor the smell of the soup. "I can't remember the last time we had a real meal."

Dr. McCoy, already lifting a cup of coffee for himself, and Professor Xavier traded glances. "I understand it was a difficult trip," the professor said casually.

Shea looked at him over one triangle of her sandwich. "Which part do you mean? Almost getting kidnapped from my foster home, escaping from Jennifer's hotel one step ahead of the bad guys, escaping from the Highway Patrol at the gas station, the fiasco in Denver, the cross-country road trip on the back of a motorcycle, getting arrested, Chase getting hit over the head, or me getting pneumonia?"

His eyes were troubled. "All of it."

Shea took a bite, melted cheese spreading like ambrosia over her tongue. "Ah, that was no sweat. The hard part was putting up with Chase for a week."

That won her an actual chuckle from the professor, and another from Dr. McCoy. "Seriously," she continued around her food, "it was pretty weird, but we did okay most of the time, thanks to Jennifer, and Davi--" She cut herself off, giving Dr. McCoy a quick sideways look. "Um, some other help."

"It's all right," the professor reassured her quickly, raising mind-reading suspicions again. "Hank is aware of the assistance you received from Agents Davis and Peterson, and their places in my network."

She swallowed. "I wasn't sure; they said they were part of an underground. It was kinda strange to have the same guys who'd been chasing us help us out."

Professor Xavier closed his eyes as if in pain. "It seems I am destined to spend all afternoon apologizing to you, Miss O'Reilly. This entire matter was... rather badly handled. The pick-up at the airport alone--"

Shea waved her spoon in the air; with her stomach filling, her body warm and her chest getting better with every breath, she was much more inclined to be generous. "The airport was Davis's fault, not yours; he's the one who let it slip to Van Dyke when she came after us. Peterson saved us, anyway, and the X-Men did their best, I guess."

The professor winced again, although she hadn't meant it to come out as an insult. Then he abruptly straightened. "The X-Men? How did you know...?"

She gave him a Look, a bit startled at her own chutzpah. This really wasn't the kind of man you smarted off at -- he could probably fry her brain with a sideways thought. Still, she couldn't work up a very good case of fear towards him anymore.

"Come on, give us credit for being able to put a few things together. I've seen the Beast on television lots of times, when he was with the Avengers and after that, and Chase and I recognized some more of the X-Men at the airport from the news. Besides, your name is all over a school for mutants."

There was a long pause, then Dr. McCoy very deliberately took a sip of his coffee. "Jennifer told us they would deduce your actual involvement," he commented.

Professor Xavier looked non-plussed. "Still, you understand, Miss O'Reilly, that this is not common knowledge. If Xavier's School was conclusively connected with the X-Men, the danger to us all would be--"

"I know," Shea interrupted impatiently, "Jennifer swore us to secrecy before she sent us to the school. You helped save our tails -- we won't tell anyone on you." She leaned forward over her tray. "One thing I do want to know, though."

She was delighted to see the professor look wary; it made him look actually human. "Yes?"

"How *did* the X-Men get out of that mess in Dallas? The one that was on CNN?"

Chapter 4

"hey there take a deep breath babe
if you need me me and neil'll be
hanging out with the dream king"
-- Tori Amos, 'Tear in Your Hand'

As the taloned hands reached for him, Chase abandoned all thought of cool in favor of escape, yelping and trying to bounce backwards away from the whatever-it-was, and tripping over his feet in the process. His left wrist protested painfully as he landed on it and his butt.

He blinked and shook his head, trying to make the world stop spinning. Through the haze of panic, he heard the kids laughing hilariously behind him, and saw that the dark red thing had also jumped back, gazing at him through huge, suspicious blue eyes, the huge clawed hands held defensively in front of her. She.. she?... was scared to death, he realized, fighting back his own instinctive terror.

"Sorry," he found himself apologizing to her, trying not to stutter. "I was set up." He managed to tear his eyes off her long enough to send a baleful look over his shoulder at the culprits, all of whom except Jubilee had the grace to look embarrassed, then returned his attention to the girl in front of him.

"Did you want something?" he asked her, reaching for and finding the same voice that calmed Shea down when she was acting like a five-year-old.

The stiff red body relaxed a little in response to his voice, but still leaned away as if posed for flight or attack, the blue eyes blinking, then focusing on his hand. He followed them and found himself staring at the apple he was still holding. "This?" He debated his hunger (and terror) versus her claws, then held it out tentatively, keeping his hand flat. "Be my guest. I've, um, already eaten."

She looked at him for another long moment, then sidled forward, reaching out hesitantly to take the fruit. He forced himself not to flinch. Hard, smooth skin touched his, then snapped back to a safe distance, taking the apple with it.

"Great," Chase breathed, relaxing slightly. "No problems here."

*Not bad,* Jono's 'voice' said next to him. *That's Penance; she doesn't normally get that close t' strangers.*

"I wonder why," Chase said sarcastically, pulling himself to his feet without using the hand Jono had offered. "You always use her to chase off visitors?"

Jono threw a hard look at the others, who were kicking the grass and trying not to meet anyone's eyes; even Jubilee now looked slightly abashed. *Nah, only the one we want t' throw off-balance.*

"Sorry," Jubilee apologized without further prompting. "Penny wouldn't have hurt you, but I shouldn't have set you up like that."

*Kids,* Chase sighed with mental disgust. *Powers enough to take over the world and they still play practical jokes. Just great.* But this was the only place Shea was going to be safe; he had to go along with it. He *had* to, no matter what.

"No problem," he lied out loud. "Ev, you need a partner?"

*****

Twenty sweaty minutes later, the score was tied, 18-18. Jubilee had proven to be a ruthless opponent, completely unintimidated by the fact that both members of the opposition outweighed her by about 100 pounds. She sped across the court like a miniature Roadrunner, perfectly willing to go around, under or over anyone between her and the hoop. Paige Guthrie played a more straightforward game, but with no more scruples than her teammate showed.

But Chase and Everett 'they call me Synch' Thomas still had a considerable height advantage, and discovered to their surprise that they played well together, tossing the ball over the girls' heads and dribbling complicated patterns up and down the concrete that the other two couldn't quite intercept. After a few minutes, Chase's muscles had actually started to loosen up, the various aches and pains fading in the rush of the game.

His confidence growing, elected to use one of the overhead throws to get the ball over Jubilee's and into Everett's hands. He glanced almost a foot and a half down at the girl, then hefted the ball across the court straight at Everett, grinning in anticipation of a game-winning shot.

His ears were immediately assaulted by the pops and pafs of fireworks going off not more than a few feet away. Colored lights danced and exploded around the basketball, the concussions shoving it away from Ev, who lunged for it and missed. It bounced out of the court, and Angelo Espinosa's gray-skinned arm suddenly stretched out about three feet to grab it before it rolled into the volleyball court.

Chase looked from Angelo to Jubilee incredulously, trying to hear past the ringing in his ears, as Jubilee blew calmly on her fingertips. "Out of bounds, our ball," she informed them.

"We called 'no powers,' J," Ev said threateningly, picking himself off the pavement. "Chase doesn't have any, remember?"

Chase wasn't actually listening, too busy dealing with the fact that the tiny, cheerful Chinese girl had just shot a burst of explosions out of her hands. Firecrackers, sure, but.... And where the hell had Angelo grown an extra three feet of arm?

"Tell it to the ref," Jubilee shot back at Ev smugly, "if ya can find one."

Ev swung to look pleadingly at Angelo and Jono, both of whom immediately expressed complete and total disinterest in the proceedings; Angelo didn't even try to hide his laughter as he dribbled the ball off the ground. The two younger boys, Artie and Leech, were rolling around on the ground, chortling happily and obviously useless as officials. "This is so wrong!" Ev groaned.

"Need a lawyer?"

The amused voice came from several feet away, which saved Chase from his third heart attack of the day. He was able to glance over casually instead, then a huge smile spread across his face. "Jennifer!"

He had only enough time to reflect on how much his life had changed, that he could consider a 7-foot-tall, green woman with muscles bigger than his to be familiar. Then Jennifer Walters was sweeping him against her in a brief, but very firm, bear hug.

"Thank God you're all right," she said with great sincerity, letting him step back as far as her hands on his shoulders. "I really thought the two of you were going to disappear for good!"

"That'll teach you," Chase cracked, uncomfortably aware of the stares of the kids against his back. "But don't think we didn't consider it."

Jennifer lost her smile. "I'm so sorry, Chase, I never should have sent the two of you off alone."

"Hey, it wasn't your fault," Chase tried to reassure her, conveniently forgetting the occasional curse that had been tossed her way during rainstorms, arrests and escapes. "There wasn't much else you could do. We got here, didn't we? No problem."

Her look was politely disbelieving, but the crooked smile had reappeared. "Yes, you did get here; nice job." She reached out in a joking attempt to ruffle his hair and he ducked out of the way fast, before his dignity could take any more hits. Jennifer's grin got wider. "I was just going to see your partner in crime. Sean says you took good care of her."

"Yeah, that's why she's got pneumonia," Chase responded uncomfortably, running a hand through his hair. "It was the other way around most of the time; we couldn't have made it without her." He saw Jennifer's eyes narrow when she saw the bruises on his wrist and forehead, and shrugged. "They're worse than they look -- can we go back to Shea now?"

"Of course," Jennifer told him cheerfully, but with something grim still lurking in her eyes. With one hand, she gently shoved his hair away from his swollen forehead, inspecting it with quiet concern. "She's probably right where you left her."

"Great." He turned to go, then hesitated. "Jennifer? You're coming?"

She smiled at him, seeming to read his mind, and let her hand rest reassuringly on his shoulder. "Yeah, I'm coming."

Together, they walked back to the house.

*****

"Jennifer!"

Shea's squeal, despite her sore throat, was loud enough and high enough to shatter windows; McCoy, moving faster than anyone of his bulk should have been able to, barely managed to rescue her tray before she overturned it, lunging forward on the examining table into Jennifer's fierce hug. Chase lounged in the doorway to watch the reunion, trying not to let his less-than-macho grin become visible.

After a certain amount of incoherent babbling, Jennifer and Shea finally broke loose from each other. "I am so glad to see you," Shea said fervently, with more animation than she'd shown since they'd gotten to Massachusetts. "It has been such an unbelievably weird week."

"So I've heard." Jennifer stepped back far enough to look Shea over as she had Chase. "How's she doing, Hank?"

McCoy looked at the lights and readouts on the side of the table. "After a little rest and relaxation, Shulkie, she should be returned to her former tip-top condition."

"I knew I could count on you, Hankster. You look even worse than your partner," Jennifer told Shea.

"Gee, thanks." Shea made a face. "If there was any justice in the universe, *he* would've been the one who got pneumonia."

"Excuse me, Shealee?" Chase straightened. "How do you figure that?"

"Well, I got cut up saving your neck. The least you could have done was get sick saving mine. But nooo, you let me stack up all the damage."

"Getting knocked cold with a gun isn't enough for you? God, I love gratitude."

"Excuse me.... You would be Chase Matthews, correct?" a fifth voice questioned. Chase located the source in a wheelchair at Shea's side, and almost swallowed his teeth when he realized who it was.

"Professor.. um, Xavier?" he guessed. The bald man nodded, and Chase took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. "Pleased to meet you."

"The pleasure is mine," Xavier returned gravely. "I am, I suspect, more pleased than you know."

Chase gave him a suspicious, sideways look. "Why?"

Xavier smiled wryly, looking from Chase to Shea and back. "Because you have, by your actions this week, proven that my dream has some merit."

"Dream?" Shea, this time, biting her lip. Jennifer leaned against the high-tech bed beside her, arms crossed over her chest and looking very serious. McCoy sat back like he'd heard it before, but wasn't tired of it yet. "What're you talking about?"

Xavier leaned his elbows on the arms of his wheelchair and steepled his hands in front of his eyes. He looked like Mr. Fraser, Chase's old English teacher, getting ready to start a discussion of Poetry and Other Things Meaningful. "The first Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters, and by extension, the X-Men and this second school, were created because of a dream, a rather simple one." he began. "That one day, mutants and non-mutants will not be divided by fear, and hatred, or perceived superiority, but able to live together and work together as people, rather than genetically-divided categories.

"By helping Shea, Chase, by endangering yourself to help her despite the differences between you, you have proven that there is still truth in that dream." Xavier suddenly looked old, and very tired, talking more to himself than to Chase and Shea. "You've given us hope in times when, I fear, the dream has little left to hold it up but hope."

"Save the Martin Luther King speech," Chase said abruptly, more to snap himself back to reality than to be rude. He could see why Xavier was the leader of the X-Men -- the man had a hypnotic way with words and ideas -- but Chase had no intention of being drawn in. "I didn't help Shea because of any dream; I don't give a damn whether she's a mutant or not. I helped her because.... Well, because I was there and I owed her. That's all." That *wasn't* all, of course, but it was bad enough Shea could see inside his head half the time. Damned if he was going to spill everything to Xavier.

McCoy cleared his throat meaningfully at Chase's tone, but Xavier waved him back. His face had lightened with amusement, but Chase sensed that only a part of it was aimed at him. "If that is true," he said slowly, chuckling at some joke Chase didn't get, "than I grow even more optimistic for the next generation."

McCoy and Jennifer apparently understood, since they also started laughing softly, but Shea just looked thoughtful. "So that's why Sean let Jennifer send us to you."

"No, Shea." Xavier leaned forward intently. "You would have been welcome here regardless. This school was established specifically to help young mutants like you. If I had been able to discover your existence before the Bureau of Mutant Affairs, rest assured, the X-Men would have contacted you, and brought you into our protection before Agent Van Dyke had a chance to land in Oregon."

"I don't know if that would have been a good thing or not," Shea said quietly, without lifting her eyes from the sheet she was methodically wrinkling between her hands. "I never wanted to be a mutant, sir, and the only dream I've ever had is the Olympics."

McCoy started to say something, but Xavier stopped him with an imperceptible shake of the head. "An admirable dream in its own right," he said gently. "Rest assured, Shea, no one here will ask more of you than you can give. I promise you that."

Shea tried to smile up at Xavier, hesitant trust shining from her eyes. And something else, too -- like she'd finally accepted what she was, now that she had found a place where others accepted it, and her.

Chase had seen that expression once before, when she'd decided to run to the Massachusetts Academy, instead of running away to Canada or L.A. It had been the right choice for her then. But where did that leave him?

Suddenly, Chase felt very much like an outsider here.

Fortunately, Jennifer broke the moment. "Well, since we've established that," she grinned, rumpling Shea's hair, "I want to hear every detail of your little adventure, beginning to end."

"I believe we all would," Xavier agreed. "For instance, we intercepted a rather outraged report from a highway patrolman in New Mexico -- something about his pants being turned into wood?"

Chase remembered the incident vividly -- he'd been terrified they were going to be caught, and had only escaped with timing, luck, and judicious use of Shea's powers. Looking back at the expression on the cop's face, he was able to laugh at their exploits for the first time.

Shea was also giggling at the memory, without coughing, Chase noticed. "Plywood, actually. It was great!"

Xavier sat back in his chair, inviting, "Tell me about it."

Chase and Shea looked at each other, then Chase shrugged and walked the rest of the way into the room to pull a chair to her side. It seemed warmer over by the 'examining table', more comfortable. The faint throbbing in his head began to fade away again. "Well, I guess the whole thing started when I went to the store back in Copper Lake to get some food," he started, straddling the chair backwards.

"You went in to get a fix, O Great God of Caffeine," Shea corrected him. "That stuff's going to kill you."

"Look who's talking, she who drinks Coke for breakfast. Anyway, this guy at the counter pulls a knife...."

******

McCoy and Xavier left more than two hours later to talk to Cassidy and Ms. Frost, who had mysteriously appeared almost as soon as Shea and Chase had started their story. McCoy left a long list of instructions with Shea, and instructions for Chase and the headmasters to make sure she followed them.

Jennifer left a few minutes later, after more hugs, an admonition to stay out of trouble, and a promise to come back down for the weekend.

The infirmary was finally empty, leaving them alone for the first time that day. Chase let his head fall forward against the chair back, and rubbed his neck. The simple 'tell me about it' had turned into a gentle but firm interrogation worthy of the Spanish Inquisition, with Xavier cast as the kinder, gentler Torquemada, as he'd drawn out every bit of information on the Bureau and their cross-country trip they had to offer. Shea had gotten to doze off occasionally, but Chase hadn't had the excuse of sickness.

"You know," he said thoughtfully, without lifting his head, "I think it was easier when all we had to do was drive and avoid cops."

"No doubt," Shea agreed with a sigh. "But I'd like to put the Professor into a small room with Van Dyke one of these days. He'd rip her to shreds just by pinning her with one of those looks."

"Oh, hell yes." Chase laughed weakly, too worn out to put much effort into it. "I'd pay to see that."

"We could probably sell tickets." Shea was in even worse shape; even as she talked, her eyelids drifted shut.

"Getting tired, Shealee?" he asked, forcing himself to his feet to lean over her.

She smiled up at him sleepily. "Umm, a little. Did you meet the other kids?"

"Yeah, I did. Played basketball."

"Who won?"

"Game was called on account of cheating."

"What are they like? Tell me about them."

"They're..." Chase stopped before he could get started. "It's hard to describe. Get back in bed like McCoy said, and I'll tell you about them."

"'Kay," she yawned, holding her arms up to him like a little girl. He sighed heavily, more than a little uncomfortable with the trust she placed in him, then lifted her into his arms with an effort, surprised at how warm the 'examining table' was. As he lifted her away from it, the readouts went blank. He tried not to notice.

It was only a few feet from there to the small bed they'd used the night before. He settled her onto it carefully, then, when she refused to unwrap her arms from his neck, reluctantly sat beside her, cradling her against his chest. "Tell me about them," she demanded again.

Chase ran his fingers through her heavy curls and let his hand drift down to touch her cheek, then to her back, resting his head against the wall as he thought. He wanted to put as good a spin on things as possible.... "Well, you met Jubilee and Jono last night, but there's also Paige and Ev and Angelo and these two hyper little kids named Artie and Leech, and another... um, girl named Penance. Jubilee cheats at basketball, but she's an okay kid otherwise, a motormouth. Paige is kind of reserved, and has a strange sense of humor...."

He kept talking long after her eyes had drifted shut and her breathing evened out; talked just to hear a familiar voice, as the sun slowly set outside the window and the room turned once again to darkness, ending their first day at Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters.

Chapter 5

"Every finger in the room is pointed at me
I want to spit in their faces then I get afraid of what that could bring
Got a bowling ball in my stomach got a desert in my mouth
Figures that my courage would choose to sell out now"
-- Tori Amos, 'Crucify'

"Hey, O'Reilly, wake up!"

Shea groaned and turned over, burying her head beneath the pillow. The last thing she remembered was Chase talking, his voice soothing her and putting her to sleep. She cuddled that memory to her, prepared to sink back down into the warm depths, when the annoying voice intruded again. "Shea! Come on, deadhead, rise and shine!"

Shea seriously contemplated stuffing her pillow down Jubilee's throat -- she'd recognize that obnoxiously cheerful Valley accent anywhere, even though she'd only heard it once before -- then realized that she was lying on her chest and not choking. Carefully, she took one breath, then another. No rasping, no coughing, no nothing. "Hot damn," she gasped, rolling over and sitting up. "I can breathe again."

Jubilee stood in the doorway, fully dressed in blue jeans, black t-shirt and yellow trenchcoat, blowing a bubble and looking unimpressed by Shea's recovery. "Yeah, Beastie-Boy said you'd be better this mornin', the Shi'ar stuff's good for that. Come on, get up, Irish is givin' us the car t' take you an' Chase shoppin' in Boston. Get a move on or we'll leave ya behind."

"Thanks a lot," Shea muttered under her breath, shoving her hair out of her eyes and the blankets away from her legs and standing shakily. Her legs were a little wobbly, but the dizziness had disappeared. Just as a reality check, she inspected her hands and wrist. She wasn't sure if she was relieved or disappointed to find all stitches and bruises still present, but much less sore, and showing definite signs of healing.

"Whatever a Shi'ar is, I like it!" she grinned. "Something Russian? Japanese?"

Jubilee opened her mouth, presumably to define Shi'ar, then apparently thought better of it. Coming into the room, she instead dropped her armload of clothes onto the bed. "Paige tossed your stuff into the laundry and we found a couple T-shirts and sweatshirts for you. Your sneakers have, like, gone to Reebok heaven, but Monet had a pair she's loaning you. If you get 'em dirty, she'll probably kill ya, so you better be careful."

"I'll take it under advisement." Shea rolled her eyes, without looking up from her investigation of the clothes. Her own jeans topped the pile and she shuddered, looking at them with disgust. She didn't particularly want to put them on again -- not after wearing them almost non-stop for more than a week -- but resigned herself to her fate. The T-shirts, which ranged from a tame white to a psychedelic orange that had to be Jubilee's, looked about the right size, and someone had remembered clean socks and underwear.

"Do I have time to shower before you drag me off?" she asked the younger girl.

"You better," Jubilee said, with a significant sniff in Shea's direction. "It's not that big of a van."

Shea blushed and reached back for the pillow, but the appearance of a blond girl in the doorway saved Jubilee's life.

"Leave her alone, Jubes," the girl ordered.

Jubilee was still unimpressed. "Who put you in charge, Husk?"

The blonde's eyes narrowed, but her only response was, "Ms. Frost is looking for you, something about yesterday's math test."

Jubilee suddenly looked hunted. "I'm outta here," she declared, suiting action to words.

The blond didn't bother watching her go, satisfied with the results of her strategy. "Sorry about Jubilee," she apologized, coming through the door. Her southern accent was almost unnoticeable, but for the soft slur to her words. "We're still working on finding someone with the mutant power to shut her up. I'm Paige Guthrie."

"Shea O'Reilly," Shea responded automatically, and probably unnecessarily, "and she's okay; I've got a foster sister a lot like her."

"Great, another one like Jubes. Just what the world needs." Paige rolled her eyes, inviting Shea to share the joke. Shea obediently grinned, liking Paige instantly; they were about the same age, although Paige might have been slightly younger. She was neatly dressed in pressed chinos and a blue sweater set the same color as her eyes, with polished loafers on her feet, and Shea had a sudden hunch who'd remembered the socks.

"You've got plenty of time to shower," Paige continued, her eyes taking their own assessment of Shea. "We're not going to leave without you, no matter what Lee says. But you might want to hurry, or breakfast is going to get cold."

"Right." Shea grimaced as she ran her hand through her greasy hair. "I'll be down soon as I can."

"Do you need any help?" Paige offered. "Chase said you weren't doing very well yesterday."

"Chase lies," Shea lied. "I'll be fine."

The other girl accepted that with a nod. "Just remember not to get the bandage wet," she said dictatorially as she left. Shea stretched, enjoying the feeling of having her muscles work correctly again, then headed for the small bathroom, stripping off the borrowed sleepshirt as she went.

The small bathroom was already stocked with shampoo, conditioner and soap, as well as thick, fluffy green towels which matched the floor tiles. Everything else was in shades of ivory and gold and showed the definite touch of an interior decorator. "Oy vey," Shea muttered, "I bet Ms. Frost hired someone to color-coordinate the *garage*."

Avoiding the mirrors, she turned on the water and, for a moment, regretted not accepting Paige's offer of help, as she started trying to figure out how to wash her hair while keeping her hand dry. Then she shrugged a mental 'the hell with it' and stepped under the warm water to get clean for the first time in five days.

*****

Dressed in her jeans, a white T-shirt with the words 'As If' scrawled across the front, and the borrowed socks and sneakers, her hair mostly dry and cascading around her face in a tangle of curls (no one had remembered a comb), Shea made her way down the stairs, looking around her in awe. She hadn't been able to really appreciate the house through the haze of cold, wet, and sick in which she'd arrived, and took it in fully now.

The stairs led down to a huge room with a fireplace on one wall and comfortable furniture arranged in small conversation groups. Everything was as clean as if human hands had never touched it, except for the jackets tossed on a coat rack by the door and the wet sneakers piled beneath them. Even the piles of textbooks and magazines on the couch looked as if they'd been stacked by a computer.

The sound of chattering voices led her past a closed door and into a large dining room. One entire wall was windows, the curtains opened so morning sunlight could stream over the huge table. The painful neatness of the main room was entirely missing here, probably due to the noisy presence of seven teenagers, two kids and two adults, most of whom were trying to talk over each other and around their food. The topics appeared to range from what movie to go see in the city, to an intense discussion of who was going to drive, to Jubilee loudly defending the math test to Ms. Frost, who wasn't, judging from her expressionless face, buying a word of it.

A tall, handsome black guy -- Everett, Shea figured from Chase's half-remembered descriptions the night before -- sitting closest to the door suddenly caught sight of her and cleared his throat loudly, cutting off the other side of the driver argument. The table instantly quieted, all eyes locking on Shea. She swallowed and tried not show how badly her stomach was jumping around, shifting her feet nervously and returning the stares with as much cool as she could manage when she was scared spitless.

They were a really mixed bunch, she realized. The other half of the driving argument was a guy who might have been Hispanic -- it was hard to tell through the beard stubble, not to mention the gray skin that folded over and around his plaid flannel shirt. Paige was sitting next to them, and a beautiful dark-haired girl, dressed neatly and expensively, was next, flanked by an empty chair on either side. The brunette was the only one not involved in a conversation -- she seemed to be lost in a world of her own.

Ms. Frost was at the head of the table, once again dressed entirely in white; at her left hand was a huge Samoan boy who smiled cheerfully at Shea before returning to shoveling in a pile of food. Two little boys, one green, one pink -- again forewarned by Chase, Shea managed not to react to their odd appearances -- chattered next to him. Well, one did, the other was silent. Jubilee was across from Paige, half-sitting, half-sprawling in her chair, evidently long-since finished eating and trying to keep out of reach of Ms. Frost. Chase was a seat away from Ms. Frost, the seat on his other side also empty. She wondered if that had been deliberate.

"Whoa, the senorita exists," the gray-skinned guy said, breaking the silence as he casually reached across the table; Shea watched open-mouthed as his arm stretched a good two feet further than humanly possible to snag the orange juice. No one else, including Chase, even blinked. "We were beginning to think you were a hallucination."

"I wish," Chase muttered just loud enough to be heard; Shea forgot to be amazed and scared long enough to swing a deadly glare in his direction, trying to hide the deep relief his presence in this room of strangers gave her. He was also in jeans, and an unfamiliar 'No Fear' T-shirt which fit tightly across his shoulders. His leather jacket was slung over the back of his chair.

His various bruises also looked much better, the swelling down and the cut across his forehead half-healed; he was going to have a very interesting scar, though. His face tried to assume an innocent expression as he gestured to the chair next to him. "If you kill me, it'll take you longer to eat."

Shea weighed the benefits and consequences, then took the seat with as much nonchalance as possible, as if people extended their limbs across a room in front of her every day. "Lucky for you I'm hungry," she informed Chase as she poured some sugar-laden cereal into her bowl, pretending not to notice the well-hidden disappointment on Stretch's face at her quick cover.

"Shealee, I've never seen you when you *weren't* hungry," Chase claimed without looking up from his plate.

"That's because you didn't feed me from California clear to Indiana."

"I fed you in Boulder!"

"And not again until Indiana!"

"Yeah," he admitted through his food, "But...."

"Don't talk with your mouth full." He glared again, but swallowed; she took her first bite smugly, happy to win an argument by whatever means were necessary.

Ms. Frost took advantage of the break in hostilities. "How are you feeling this morning, Shea?" she asked in a voice that was probably supposed to sound concerned, but didn't quite.

Shea fought back a shiver of dislike and started to answer; at Chase's snide sideways look, she hastily swallowed first. "Fine, thank you -- much better than I'd expected. What did Dr. McCoy do to me?"

"Are you sure you want to know?" Chase muttered. Shea shot a quick look in his direction, but he was concentrating intently on his food, his face locked.

Ms. Frost also glanced his way, but otherwise ignored the comment. "Henry is an excellent doctor; I'm not surprised you've improved so quickly." Jubilee opened her mouth to say something, but Ms. Frost cut her off. "I don't believe you've met everyone here. Children, introduce yourselves."

"Yes, Ms. Frost," the other side of the table -- minus the brunette and including Jubilee -- chorused together with varying degrees of sarcasm. It appeared to roll right off Ms. Frost's perfectly tailored blond exterior. Quick introductions followed and Shea split her attention between her cereal (she really *was* starving) and trying to associate names with faces and Chase's descriptions. Everett, Angelo, Paige, Monet, Mondo, Artie, Leech....

"Where's Jono?" she asked suddenly, interrupting the beginnings of a renewed driving argument between Everett and Angelo.

Everett answered, looking uncomfortable. "He doesn't really eat... He's probably out in the biosphere with Penance or something."

Biosphere? It didn't seem like a good time to pursue the question; at any rate, the door from the kitchen swung open and Mr. Cassidy appeared from its depths, carrying several plates. "Good mornin', Shea -- glad t' see you're feelin' better," he boomed cheerfully, levering one of the plates in front of her. "Leave that sugar alone, y' need t' get y'r strength back. Here's a real breakfast."

"Thank you, Mr. Cassidy." Shea smiled shyly up at the big Irishman and inspected the pile of eggs, bacon, toast and hash browns he'd set in front of her. Cholesterol City, but it smelled much better than the cereal. "This looks great."

He beamed in satisfaction and took his seat at the end of the table, next to Shea. "Eat up, then; from what I've overheard, ye've got a busy day ahead o' you." Following his own advice, he started eating. Shea also dug in, happy to discover the food tasted as good as it smelled.

"By the way, Jubilee," he continued a moment later, "just because y'r gettin' out o' lunch duty today, doesnae mean y'r gettin' away with anything. Y'll make it up tomorrow."

"Oh, no way, Sean!" Jubilee objected, as the same time that her classmates groaned in protest.

"Why punish us, Mr. Cassidy?" Everett moaned melodramatically. "We didn't do anything!"

"Do you want us all to die of food poisoning?" Paige added.

Jubilee tried to split her fierce look between her teacher and her classmates, apparently torn between defending her cooking skills and trying to wriggle out of having to use them. Mr. Cassidy's eyebrow, lifted in a clear warning not to push it, forced her settle for grousing, "I still don't see why we can't just, like, hire a housekeeper or something. It's not like White Queen over there," she gestured towards Ms. Frost, "doesn't have enough money."

Shea felt her eyebrows go up. *White Queen?* she mouthed to Chase, who shrugged in complete ignorance. *Got me,* he mouthed back.

"We've been through this before, Jubilee," Ms. Frost answered with a touch of exasperation. "It would simply be too difficult, unless you think *you* can find someone we could trust not to run screaming to the authorities the moment Penance sneaked up on them, or something --" This with a pointed look in Paige's direction; she blushed slightly and looked away, "-- blows up."

Jubilee just looked stubborn. "We could find someone," she insisted.

"And would ye like t' endanger them if Emplate or the Phalanx decides to attack again?" Mr. Cassidy's gentle question seemed to get through better than Ms. Frost's previous attempts; Jubilee made a face, but shut up. "And besides," Mr. Cassidy continued with a smile in the girl's direction, "everyone should know how to cook."

"With that settled," he said to Shea and Chase, "we'll be addin' the two o' ye to th' roster while y'r here. Can either of ye cook?"

"I can, Chase can't," Shea answered, trying not to deal with the concept of *anyone* attacking the school, but resolved to pin Paige or Jubilee down at the first opportunity -- there were too damn many questions she wanted answered.

Chase looked offended at her lack of faith in *his* culinary skills. "How do you know?"

"I've seen your kitchen. If you cooked in there, you'd be dead of food poisoning already."

"And I suppose you're Julia Child."

"No, but I'm not the Ptomaine Palace, either, Captain Cuisine."

"Are you two going to fight all the way into Boston?" Everett interrupted from across the table before they could really get rolling.

"No," Shea answered at the same time Chase said, "Probably." Jubilee started laughing so hard she almost spit her milk across the table, which set the little boys off. Their giggles were contagious and even Shea had to give in, smiling ruefully at Chase.

Under the table, her hand groped for his; he took it in a firm grip that belied his casual chuckles.

Chapter 6

"For to see the town at Bedlam
Ten thousand years I traveled"
-- 'Bedlam Boys', Traditional

"Great, more driving," Chase groaned as he saw the station wagon they were supposed to take, stifling the sudden ache for his motorcycle, which was still in some impound lot in New York.

"You expected to fly, perhaps?" Monet said from behind him, startling him; he had started to get used to her zombie impersonation. She looked down her nose at him as if she had no idea why he was staring, then brushed past him to get into the backseat of the car next to the window.

Chase glared after her in confusion and growing dislike. "Don't let her get to you, amigo," Angelo told him, claiming the front seat. "M lives in her own little world, and no one else gets invited in." He sent a look sideways at Monet as he spoke, but she ignored him, making a close inspection of her perfect fingernails, then her spotless red jacket.

Chase shook his head and looked back over his shoulder for the rest of the mob. Jubilee was back in the trenchcoat and walking towards the garage with Everett, talking a mile a minute. Ev was tolerating her with an amazing amount of patience, which may have been due to the car keys jingling in his hand. Behind them, Paige was carrying on an intense conversation with Jono, which ended when he turned and walked away across the lawn. Paige looked after him with frustration written all over her face, then tightened her lips and stalked towards the car, ignoring the mist that fell against her face.

"You coming, Shea?" Chase called out towards the last member of their party. She looked his way, then back at Cassidy, who was trying to give her something. Looking unhappy, she finally accepted it; Cassidy patted her on the shoulder with a sympathetic expression. She shrugged his hand away and followed Paige down the driveway.

"What was all that about?" Chase asked, as Shea followed Paige into the car. Wordlessly, Shea opened her hand to show him two corporate American Express cards, issued to Frost Enterprises. Chase fought down a surge of wounded pride. "One for you and one for me. Nice. I was wondering how we were paying for this shopping spree."

Bright flags of humiliated color stained Shea's cheeks. "Mr. Cassidy says we both count as scholarship cases, and that Ms. Frost is obscenely wealthy. 'What good's money if not t' use t' help our students?'" Her impersonation of his brogue was dead-on, and sounded surprisingly natural. At least, it would have without the sulking.

"Did you point out we're not enrolled?" Shea gave him a Look in answer.
"Well, it's not like we have a lot of choice," Chase shrugged, not sure who he was trying to convince. "Unless you want to keep living in those jeans."

"I've had enough of being a charity case," she muttered, shoving past him to clamber into the wagon. Chase sighed and got in behind her, closing the door. This trip looked as if it was going to be about as much fun as their last one. Less, even.

*****

Actually, the ride to Boston wasn't bad, after they'd ganged up once to quash Jubilee's attempts to sing 'A Hundred Bottles of Beer on the Wall', and again to keep Angelo from smoking. Ev was a good driver, staying just far enough over the speed limit to keep his passengers happy without annoying the cops too much. After a brief 'discussion' which almost turned into a holy war, the radio was tuned to a baseball game and left there -- Chase rooted for the Red Sox just to annoy Angelo, who turned out to be an Angels fan, big surprise. Rain shushed gently against the window in counterpoint to their cheers.

Shea spent most of the ride talking to Paige, who was willing enough to talk, but pretty cagey about the topics at first. That stopped as she got rolling; Chase eavesdropped in between heckling the game, and got a pretty good overview of the history of Generation X.

Paige seemed to view them as a junior branch of the outlaw X-Men; references to something called the New Mutants and X-Force, with passing mentions of 'the Institute', 'Cable' and 'Magneto', went flying by faster than he could field them. Magneto was a terrorist, what the newspapers liked to call a super-villain -- yet Paige was claiming he'd led a team associated with the X-Men? And she expected this to be taken as a good thing?

Judging from the slightly glazed expression in Shea's eyes, she wasn't doing much better. Jubilee's contributions, which consisted mostly of sentences beginning, "When *I* was with the X-Men", just made it worse. Chase finally gave up and leaned forward to ask Angelo, "Why are we going all the way into Boston to shop? We went through a city closer to here."

Angelo and Ev exchanged looks, then Angelo shrugged. "Snow Valley's too close to home, comprende? Everyone knows us; we get into trouble, the whole town figures out what Xavier's School really is. In Boston, we're just another bunch of kids."

Chase felt his stomach sink. "You're *expecting* trouble?"

"We never *expect* trouble," Ev said, apparently trying to be calming. Then he blew it by admitting, "But trouble finds us an awful lot."

"Besides," Angelo said slyly, "it's a good excuse to get out of the school for a whole day, without White Queen and Banshee babysitting. I can't believe they let us go all the way into the city without them."

"They were talking pretty intensely to Professor Xavier yesterday," Ev commented. "I think something's going on we're not--"

"What's with the White Queen and Banshee thing?" Shea interrupted from the back seat. "Are those code names or something?"

"Or somethin'." Jubilee cracked her gum as she spoke. "Me an' Irish both used t' be X-Men, 'til the Prof decided t' move the school out here. Frosty used t' be a bad guy."

"Who says she isn't now?" Monet murmured, her only contribution to the trip so far. Chase looked sharply at her, but couldn't read anything in her serene expression. Shea's eyebrows tried to climb off her face.

"Define bad guy," Ev tossed over his shoulder, in a tone that suggested he was picking up an old argument. "Just because she was with the Hellfire Club--"

"Dude, she helped attack Phoenix, and she *lead* the Hellions," Jubilee flared -- literally, as lights began flashing around her fingertips. Shea jumped slightly when she noticed, then watched with fascinated awe. "She's bad news all the way around."

"So why'd you come to her school, chica?" Angelo asked lazily, fiddling with an unlit cigarette. "No one forced you."

Jubilee's face closed up entirely, but not before Chase caught a glimpse of very real pain behind her eyes. "Don't go there, dude."

"As long as Ms. Frost is willing to teach us," Paige jumped in, with a quelling look at Angelo which only bounced off the back of his head, "and willing to try to do some good with her powers, we should support her."

"Thank you, Teacher's Pet," Angelo said under his breath.

Paige increased the power on her glare, and it was Chase's turn to interrupt before blood was shed, trying to ignore his growing unease at the casual discussion of 'bad guys'. He reached for the first available topic that came to mind, looking speculatively at Shea. "So, all of you have, um, 'code names'?"

"Don't even think it," Shea growled instantly. "I like my name just fine."

"But--" Paige tried to start.

"No." Shea's tone said the question was closed; Chase hid a grin and shut up. Paige, no fool, did the same.

*****

"So, where do we head first?" Ev asked, as they piled through big glass doors into a mall that could have swallowed half of the town of Copper Lake in its depths. It was a weekday, so there were surprisingly few people wandering around -- not more than, say, the population of their home town.

"Clothes," Jubilee, Shea and Paige said simultaneously. "That's what Mr. Cassidy sent us out for, after all," Paige continued primly. Jubilee rolled her eyes and mimed gagging behind the blonde's back.

"And if I have to stay in these jeans for five more minutes, they're going to become attached to my body," Shea finished.

"I can think of things I'd rather attach to your body," Chase commented automatically with a long look at her legs. Angelo's mouth was open as if to make an identical crack; he closed it with a sly grin.

Shea curled a lip at both of them. "Chase, get your mind above your waist, if you can."

"Where's the fun in that?" he grumbled half-heartedly, then held his hands up before Shea could go for his throat. "All right, all right, we'll go clothes shopping. Lay on, Macduff."

"He was a Scot," Shea informed him, "I'm Irish." She turned her back on him to ask Jubilee and Paige, "Where do we start?"

"Right this way," Jubilee grinned, taking off down the mall at something just short of a flat run. Paige tried yelling after her to slow down, then shrugged and chased her, with Shea close behind. Monet followed at a slower, more regal pace, and Chase traded looks with the other two guys.

Ev shrugged with a certain amount of resignation. "We're supposed to stick together in the city."

"While they *shop*?" Angelo complained. "Come on, ese, it'll be hours before they finish."

"I'm not leaving Shea wandering around alone," Chase said firmly.

"What are you, her keeper?"

Chase's eyes narrowed, and he took a threatening step towards Angelo. "We got each other from California to here alone; I'll be damned if anything's going to happen to her now. Comprende?"

Angelo stepped back fast, holding his hands up in a 'peace' sign. His face was hidden by the baseball cap and long black coat he wore as a 'disguise'. "Okay, man, whatever you say."

Ev had been watching the exchange with concerned eyes, but only said, "Then we'd better catch up with them; J moves around a mall faster than anyone except Boomer."

Chase glared at Angelo for a moment longer, then nodded and followed the girls down the wide corridor.

*******

Chase's determination to stay with Shea lasted through more than an hour of female shopping. Monet had abandoned them much earlier to do her own thing, but Jubilee seemed determined to hit every clothing store in the mall, and she, Paige and Shea tried on at least half the contents of every store they went into. Chase bought some jeans, a pair of dockers, more T-shirts, sneakers, and, at Ev's quiet insistence, a set of dress clothes, and considered himself done in half an hour.

In the same amount of time, Shea had bought one pair of jeans, one pair of sneakers, and two shirts. He could live with the 45 minutes it had taken for Shea to find a pair of running shoes she liked -- that was an athletic thing -- but another half-hour to choose between a white T-shirt and a red one? Get real!

They'd had some fun playing around in FAO Schwartz and Brookstones -- the clerk hadn't kicked them out until the fourth game of air hockey at the miniature demo table -- but now the three guys lurked around the dressing rooms in The Gap, trying not to look like perverts. They could hear Jubilee and Shea loudly debating the merits of reverse fit versus classic fit, with Paige playing devil's advocate to both sides. The girls all appeared to be enjoying themselves, but the guys were collectively bored stiff.

"You know," Ev said quietly, "there's a Tower Records on the third floor, right next to the arcade. Mr. Cassidy said Ange and I could use one of those credit cards he gave you, if we kept it reasonable."

Chase looked from him to the dressing room, torn between protectiveness and the equally strong desire to escape. "How long do you think it'll take them to finish?"

Angelo groaned; it was answer enough. The debate in the dressing room mutated to black versus dark blue versus stonewashed and Chase made up his mind. "Shea!" he shouted through the door. "We're going to the CD store. Meet you guys at the arcade in two hours!"

Shea appeared at the door, dressed in black jeans and a green stretch shirt that did amazing things to her amber eyes. Chase tried not to notice. "It's going to take you two hours to go to a record store?" she asked.

"No, it's going to take you two hours to buy another pair of jeans," he shot back. "We don't feel like waiting around."

Shea stuck her tongue out at him. "Just because you're a slob..."

"I am *not* a slob!" Chase protested, "but I have better things to do than hang around a mall for five hours to find the 'perfect' jeans."

"Oh, yeah? Name three."

"Strangling you tops the list -- " Chase started forward.

Ev intervened, in his apparently habitual role as referee. "Since we have different priorities on this trip, we're going to the music store while you ladies shop," he told Shea calmly. "Jubilee knows where the arcade is, and we'll meet you there."

"Fine," Shea said shortly, stalking back into the dressing room. Chase snarled after her, then did his own stalk out the front door of the store, hearing Angelo's snickers behind him.

His temper carried him only a few feet from the store before his steps slowed. "Maybe I should--"

Ev and Angelo didn't give him time to finish; they grabbed his arms and hauled him along behind them. "The chicas will be fine, let's go!" Angelo said impatiently.

Chase looked back over his shoulder once, shook his head at his own crawling paranoia, and went.

Chapter 7

"You never realize until too late that everyone's passing for normal."
-- Will Shetterly, 'Never Never'

"Wow, we finally got rid of them," Jubilee grinned, returning from her reconnaissance at the front of the dressing room. "I thought Chase was gonna superglue himself to your arm, Shea."

Shea shrugged and tried not to blush, shaking off the odd sensation of being apart from Chase. "He thinks he's my father sometimes -- like he's responsible for me, just because he saved my butt and all."

Paige looked at her archly. "Father? That's not how he looks at you when he thinks no one's watching."

Shea's blush deepened, and she shoved Paige. "Lay off."

Paige rocked with the shove, laughing, her prim dignity temporarily forgotten. "Come on, get the stuff you decided on and let's go. "

"Right." Shea started to collect the piles of clothes currently strewn around the dressing room. "Did you make up your mind about the shirt?"

"It's the wrong color." Paige stroked the heavy material of the silk shirt one last time, then hung it back up neatly. "Too bad, I really like it otherwise."

Shea held a silent debate with herself, then offered, "I can fix that, if you want to go ahead and buy it."

"You can't redye silk."

"I wasn't going to dye it."

"Look, buy it or don't! Anything to get out of this dressing room!" Jubilee groaned, pelting out of the tiny area with her trenchcoat flapping behind her.

Shea gathered up the three pairs of jeans and the shirts she'd selected and followed, stacking her armload on the counter in front of a cash register. Paige's shirt landed on top of the stack. "I trust you," the other girl said casually, heading for the door. Shea bit back a silly rush of happiness.

After she paid for the clothes with the credit card that still burned her pride, she joined the other two back in the mall. "Where to now?"

"Ice cream!" Jubilee caroled. "I'm starving!"

"We just ate a few hours ago," Paige objected. "I wanted to go to the bookstore, then we need to find some more clothes for Shea."

"I'm with Jubilee," Shea broke the tie. "After that long in the dressing room, I'm shopped out for a while. And I'm hungry, too."

Paige looked at them both with extreme disgust. "I saw that breakfast you put away, Shea. How can the two of you eat so much and stay so skinny? It's so unfair!"

"Hey, I'm a runner!" Shea defended her appetite. "I work it off. Besides, like Mr. Cassidy said, I've got to get my strength back. It's Jubilee who doesn't have an excuse."

"She talks it off," Paige cracked. Jubilee, of course, retaliated instantly, and they bickered their way down the mall towards food court, with Shea as a highly-entertained spectator.

It took them ten more minutes of arguing and comparing notes to settle on flavors at the Marble Slab Creamery. Jubilee dithered between bubble gum and cookie dough before settling for a scoop of each, to the undisguised disgust of the other two. Shea went for two scoops of mint chocolate chip, while Paige got a double scoop of peanut butter.

"I can see how you have to diet, Paige," Shea commented dryly as the girl behind the counter gave them the over-flowing cones and Jubilee's Coke.

Paige stuck her nose in the air. "I just didn't want to make the two of you feel like pigs." Shea and Jubilee instantly targeted balled-up napkins at her face; she batted them away and they dissolved back into laughter.

Shea's sore lungs protested the exercise and she tried to stop laughing long enough to breathe, slouching against a wall as Paige, the only one with cash, paid. It was the first time in years she'd been this comfortable around anyone, she realized. Not even with Chase had she been able to relax so much -- seeing as how they had been on the run from the government and all.

But it wasn't only that she felt safe here, laughing in a mall without anyone even looking twice at them, like they were just normal teenagers. It was that these girls knew she was a mutant, and didn't care -- because they were mutants, too. They understood about having strange powers, and being different; they knew about being feared and hated for something that wasn't their fault, just like Shea.

That was something not even Chase, for all his fierce protectiveness, could ever really understand. But everyone at this school did.

She played with her ice cream, nibbling it absently as they looked for a table, until Jubilee noticed. "Whatcha doin', Shea? Thought you were, like, gonna roll over and die of hunger."

"That was you," Shea shot back automatically, taking an inch off the top of her cone with one huge lick. "I was just thinking -- Mr. Cassidy's really nice."

"He's the best," Paige agreed instantly, pulling out a chair and settling down at a mostly clean table.

Jubilee was cooler about it; Shea shuddered as the younger girl bit off a chunk of ice cream with her front teeth. "Irish is okay. He's better than Frosty, that's for sure."

"Do you call him Irish to his face?" Shea asked curiously.

"She calls him worse that to his face." Paige's voice was caught between censure and amusement. "Ms. Frost, too."

"And you get away with this?"

The younger girl shrugged, shoving a piece of short, dark hair out of her face. She'd managed to smear ice cream around her mouth already, and her cone was dripping on the table in front of her. "Me an' Sean, we used t' be teammates -- equals, ya know -- when I was with the X-Men, and the X-Men are kinda like family. It'd be too weird to start callin' him 'Mr. Cassidy'. "

"Now, that's a strange concept. The X-Men as family." Shea handed Jubilee a napkin. "It's still hard to think of them as real people instead of news stories."

"You take what you can get," Jubilee shrugged, as she took the hint and wiped her face. "Sure beats California Youth Protective Services."

"You were a foster kid? Maybe we should start a club."

"You were a foster child, too?" Paige asked, before she was distracted by an escaping trickle. The mall was just a little too warm, and the ice cream melted almost as fast as they could eat it. "What was it like -- I mean, if you don't mind me asking? I have seven brothers and sisters; I can't even imagine not having a family."

"My parents died when I was a kid, then my grandmother died." Shea handed another napkin over to Paige. "I think I've got some relatives in Ireland somewhere, but I don't know for sure. And being a foster kid's not too bad; the worst part is never really belonging anywhere. But some foster parents are pretty cool, so you can pretend."

"Have you talked to them yet, your foster parents?" Paige mopped herself up, then attacked the drips on the table with her free hand. "They must be really worried."

"Not likely," Shea snorted. "Mr. Reynolds -- and everyone else on the block -- just stepped back and let the government try to take me. Mom Reynolds was the only one who stood up to them." She turned her cone around in her hands, looking for the perfect place to lick. "I wanted to call her, but Mr. Cassidy said it would be too dangerous. He said he'd contact her some other way."

She sighed and crunched into her cone, changing the subject back to Jubilee. "So you really were one of the X-Men, huh? How'd that happen?"

Jubilee rolled her eyes, more interested in her ice cream than answering questions. "I followed a couple of the X-Men through a portal from SoCal to Australia, where they were hangin'. Then I rescued Wolvie from the Reavers after everyone else went through the Siege Perilous, an' we went and picked up Psylocke in Madripoor, where the Mandarin'd switched her body with this Japanese assassin, then we met up with the rest of the X-Men when we, like, invaded Genosha and wound up goin' with 'em when these Shi'ar dudes grabbed us and--"

"Whoa!" Shea almost shouted, breaking into Jubilee's gleefully confusing recitation. "You lost me way back at 'portal'! And what the hell *is* a Shi'ar?"

Jubilee opened her mouth to explain, then jumped when Paige kicked her in the ankle. "We'll explain all that later," Paige said firmly. "Jubilee's just trying to make you crazy."

"She's succeeding," Shea muttered, feeling her sense of security slip away, along with her grasp on reality. "You people are very weird."

Instead of being offended, Paige grinned wryly. "Born that way."

Shea stared at her, then returned the grin. "True enough. Hand me that shirt."

Paige switched her cone to her left hand and rummaged through the bag from The Gap with her right, running her fingers over the soft shirt one more time before giving to it to Shea. "What're you going to do?"

Watch." Shea laid the shirt over her hands, studying the fabric and the color. Then, hiding the shirt between the side of the booth and her body, she concentrated.

Under her hands, the pale green material began rippling -- at least, the color did, as bright yellow chased it from under Shea's fingers to spread in a wave of sunshine over the shirt. In less than a minute, she handed the newly-colored shirt back to a fascinated Paige. Jubilee tried not to look impressed, but her eyes were wide over the top of her ice cream.

"How did you do that?" Paige ran her fingers over the material, which was now the same color as her pale hair. "That was really neat!"

Shea shifted uncomfortably. "I, ah, transmogrified the dye they used on the thread."

"Molecules that small?" Paige blinked. "Pretty good."

"The big employer back ho-- um, in Copper Lake, is a garment factory. I worked there last summer, learned all about dyes and stuff. It comes in handy sometimes." Shea crunched the last part of her cone, stole a drink from Jubilee's Coke, and stood up to throw her wrapper away. "Guess I'm pretty strange, too, huh?"

"Guess so," Jubilee grumbled, hastily draining the rest of her soda before anyone else had a chance at it, and wiping her sticky fingers on her coat. "Where we goin' now?"

"More clothes," Paige started to say, before her voice disappeared in a huge, shattering, crashing sound.

Jubilee hit the floor instantly, ducking under the table. "Get down!" she yelled at the other two, who obeyed as delayed self-preservation kicked in.

"What the hell is that!" Shea shouted over the noise.

"Glass, sounds like," Paige shot back, listening intently. She was proven right as the first shards clattered to the ground beside them, raining down on the table top. If they hadn't ducked, they'd have been cut to ribbons, Shea realized. "The skylights or the doors?" Paige shouted over the noise.

"Who cares?" Jubilee grinned maniacally. "Either way, sounds like trouble. I say we go deal." As the rain of glass died away, she scrambled out from under the table, darting directly into whatever it was that had just invaded the mall.

Shea watched her go with something between awe, shock and exasperation, as screams and panicked shouts filled the air outside their hiding place. "Is she *always* like this?"

Paige wasn't really listening. "Pretty much. Come on, we've gotta catch up before she gets inta trouble."

She started to follow Jubilee out from under the table, carefully avoiding the glass; Shea made a grab for her ankle. "Are you out of your mind?"

"There's somethin' happenin' out there, and Jubilee just ran into it! Ah'm not hidin' under here!" Her accent thickened with anger or fear, Paige shook Shea's hand away and scuttled the rest of the way into the open. Shea closed her eyes and carefully weighed pros and cons. Then she heaved a sigh of disgust, fought down terror, and followed.

She emerged just in time to see the wide shadow fall over Paige and Jubilee, and, beneath it, the thing. *An alien?* she wondered crazily, taking in the plate armor that rolled and bulged in odd places over the body of the tall, bulky... whatever it was. The helmet was pointed and the back of his head looked like a Borg, streaming with hoses and unidentifiable parts; something that looked like a gun sprouted out of the bright purple plating, and loomed impressively. Bystanders ran in all directions, with no goal except to get *away* -- all except the three girls.

"Nanny's waiting; you have to come with me," the whatever announced in what was probably supposed to be lofty, commanding tones. The effect was ruined when his voice cracked on the last word, sending the pitch up an octave. Shea didn't laugh -- the whatever-it-was was looking right at her.

"Oh, no way!" Jubilee groaned, her hands planted firmly on her hips as she faced off against the whatever, her feet planted in what Shea vaguely recognized as a martial arts stance. Her trenchcoat flapped in the cold wind blowing down through the former skylights. "Orphan Maker, dude, get a life! Shea's not goin' anywhere, 'cept with us!"

"Yes, she is," the armored figure returned stubbornly, raising his weapon threateningly at Shea. "I'll take you, if you want to come or not."

Paige's face had settled into grim lines that sat oddly on her 16-year-old face. "No way. Generation X kicked your tail last time, we can do it again."

Orphan Maker apparently took that personally; his weapon came up all the way to point at Paige. "That wasn't my fault!" he boomed petulantly. "Nanny said I did fine. And I'll do better this time, when I take the girl to her."

"Back off, metalhead!" Jubilee yelled back as he took a step towards them. "Or you're gonna be seein' stars!" Without giving him time to respond, she lifted her hands and cut loose with a stream of firecrackers, right in the faceplate of his helmet. The noise of the tiny explosions staggered Shea; Orphan Maker reeled backwards under the impact, trying to protect his face with his armored forearm.

"No fair!" he shouted, swinging his arm down and forward. Jubilee ducked at the last second, but Paige wasn't quite as fast. The side of his fist caught her against the shoulder and sent her flying back against the table, knocking both it and her to the ground.

Shea ran to her side as Jubilee rebalanced and cut loose with another stream of colored lights and explosions. "You breathing, Paige?"

"It's Husk, now," Paige gasped, fingering her ribs gently, "And ah think so. But from what the others say, Maker's not gonna stop. Stand back."

Shea obediently scooted back, hovering too close to the edge of shock to disobey. With a deep breath, Paige demonstrated why she'd chosen her code name, as she dug her fingernails into her skin and ripped.

Shea stifled a scream as Paige's skin peeled away from her body in long, ragged strips, expecting to see blood and gore start fountaining, and suddenly, desperately afraid for her new friend's sanity and life. But there was no blood, no gore -- where Paige's skin had been shone a matte-gray surface of something that looked like metal, like the armor the Orphan Maker wore. Paige's face looked at her from behind a dark mask; the lips moved correctly as she said, "Stay under cover 'less you see a way t' hit him, and be careful."

Then, the apparition darted back out from behind the fallen table, its feet clanking harshly on the tile as Husk lunged at the Orphan Maker. Her hands, which had become knife-edged talons, darted out to scrape along his armor, gouging long, deep scratches in the surface.

Orphan Maker staggered and tried to retaliate, but she was too close for him to use his gun, and his blows glanced off her this time. "You're ruining my cool new armor! Get off me!" he yelled, picking her up bodily and throwing her across the food court to crash against a huge tile planter, narrowly avoiding the bystanders taking cover behind it. She tried to get up once, then fell back, sprawling motionless on the floor.

Orphan Maker advanced on the fallen girl and the cowering people (four teenagers obviously cutting class) behind her, until Jubilee shot another shower of fireworks into his visor. "Leave 'em alone!" she shouted shrilly.

He swung out at her, his movements still clumsy, and she ducked under the swing again, this time kicking out for his knees. She connected and he staggered again, but still refused to fall. Jubilee shoved off against his shin before he could stomp her and went across the tile in a beautiful home plate slide to land against the table by Shea.

"Shea, dude, is there anyone who *isn't* after you?" she panted.

Shea shrugged helplessly. "This one's new to me."

"Well, it's not a good scene," Jubilee stated the obvious. She was enjoying this way too much, judging from the gleeful light in her eyes. "His armor is as good as last time -- the Juggernaut would want this stuff!"

"You know this guy?"

"Yeah, took him and Nanny on a couple times before. Lucky he still can't fight worth anything, but we've gotta get him down before any of the norms get trashed."

"Great plan," Shea bit out. "Any idea how to do it?"

"Well, can you turn this table inta somethin' that'll blow up?"

"Sorry, I've never been formally introduced to dynamite or plastique. Next plan?"

"How 'bout makin somethin' sharp, to get through the stupid armor like Husk's claws did? Adamantium or something?" Jubilee crouched on the tile, only half her attention on her questions, the rest focused on the Orphan Maker, who had recovered enough to begin a stalk towards the two of them.

"Ada--what?" Shea thought fast and hard back to ninth-grade science, and the section on metallic elements, the one that came with samples. "Maybe. But it'll take a while, there's nothing small around. Distractions?"

"My middle name, dude." With the cocky words, Jubilee was back out from the table, explosions streaming from her hands. Orphan Maker stopped to face her once more -- his gun still extended from his arm.

"Jubilee!" someone shouted, then fiery red streams blasted point-blank at Jubilee's head.

Chapter 8

"You will live in interesting times and, if lucky, survive them."
-- ancient Chinese fortune cookie

"What the hell!"

Chase had been peacefully listening to Hootie and the Blowfish when the screams and shattering glass had penetrated through his headphones. For a long moment, he managed to convince himself he was just hearing the noise Angelo had going in his headsets, but when the cold, wet wind swirled into the store, it destroyed that hope.

By the time he tore his headphones off, Everett was already at the front entrance to the CD store and staring open-mouthed at the sky, where what had once been an impressively arched glass roof was now nothing but shards. Above it hovered something metallic and gray that resembled nothing so much as... a flying saucer? With legs? What the hell?

"We've got problems!" Ev yelled. "Get Angelo, I've got to find out what's happening!"

"And do what?" Chase shouted, but Everett had already torn down the hallway towards the center escalator. He gritted his teeth and hauled ass back into the store, ripping Angelo's headphones off.

Heavy metal poured out as Angelo yelled, "Hey, que pasa? Gimme my phones!"

"Something's happening out in the mall," Chase yelled back at him. "Everett went to.... Oh my God." Awareness burned its way through shock, ice crystallized in his veins. "Shea!"

He didn't bother to wait for Angelo, but ran out of the store towards the center of the screaming. Behind him, Angelo swore in a mix of English and Spanish and followed hot on his heels.

They took the escalator three steps at a time; it was empty, since everyone else was apparently sane enough to be trying to get *away* from the trouble, and were jammed into the other side. Chase's sneakers skidded on the tile as he took the sharp turn at the second level, heading for the ground floor. Halfway down, he saw what was causing the noise, and felt his heart stop.

Shea crouched behind an overturned table, one hand splayed against it and her eyes closed in concentration; under her fingers, the plastic shimmered and changed. Jubilee stood in front of the table, explosions flying from her fingers, and completely ignoring the gun that a tall, armored form straight out of a Heinlein novel had leveled at her. Something dark gray and strange that resembled Paige Guthrie was sprawled on the tile several feet away -- behind him, Chase dimly heard Angelo's enraged shout echo over his own.

"Jubilee!" Everett's voice rose from somewhere, as the intruder's weapon shot a burst of something red and vicious at the girl. Jubilee hit the dirt, but one of the streams still caught her in the side; she cried out and Armor Boy advanced on her, weapon raised to finish the job.

Before it could lower, a red blur flashed through the air, taking a grip on the gun and pulling up. Armor Boy started to go with it, then the weapon broke away, and he dropped ten feet back to the floor, landing with a clatter and thud.

"It's about time, M!" Jubilee shouted irately from the floor, and Chase realized the flying object was, in fact, Monet St. Croix, dressed in some kind of skin-tight red uniform. Still airborne, she twisted the weapon she'd just broken in her hands like Silly Putty and dropped it into a garbage can, before turning to swoop back down on the thing like an avenging angel, her hair flowing behind her.

"What does she think she's going to do against his armor?" Angelo said between his teeth. "He can throw her across the room!"

"What *is* that?" Chase demanded without taking his eyes from the action. Monet slammed into Armor Boy's legs like a linebacker, with an impact loud enough to be heard throughout the mall. He fell backwards, but swung its arm around at the same time, slamming into Monet's shoulder. She flew away in an awkward spin, regaining control just before she would have hit a wall, and hovered, shaking her head from side to side as if to clear it.

Monet's assault broke the trance Chase and Angelo had fallen into, at the same time the escalator ended. "That's Orphan Maker!" Angelo explained over his shoulder, as he hit the floor running. "He's trouble!"

"No shit," Chase muttered, before hollering again, "Shea!"

"Chase, stay back!" she shouted, still focused on whatever she was doing to the table. One corner of it was clear now, like glass; she stood and slammed her foot down, and it shattered, thick fragments breaking off.

At the same time, Everett and Jubilee intersected on the fallen Orphan Maker, who was desperately trying to regain his feet despite the bulk of his armor. Chase stifled a grim chuckle -- their enemy looked like a giant, overturned turtle. As the two young mutants came within a few feet of him, something new popped out of his armor, a smaller version of the gun Monet had destroyed. At the same time, gossamer thin lines shot out of his other arm to wrap themselves around Monet, pinning her. The new weapon leveled itself in her direction.

But Angelo suddenly shouted, and his hand leapt forward -- and forward and forward, stretching across ten feet to wrap around the gun and yank it off-target. At the same time, a rainbow light flared around Ev's body, reaching out to enfold Jubilee. "Now!" he shouted, and streams of explosions flowed from both their hands to pound down on the Orphan Maker.

Orphan Maker yowled in anger over the staggering, blinding noise, then screeched as the heat apparently penetrated his armor. His movement threw Angelo off and he had to release the weapon, which was twisted and unusable anyway. But the fireworks weren't doing any other damage -- Maker was still fighting to get to his feet.

"Disable the power regulator on his chest!" Monet shouted, still sounding dizzy as she struggled against the lines wrapped around her body. "That will disrupt the electrical patterns throughout his armor."

"Speak English, M!" Everett shouted.

Monet breathed out in heavy frustration, straining against the lines. "Destroy the round purple thing on his chest and it should stop his armor from working!"

"Good idea, but we're a little busy!" Red, blue, silver, gold and green flowed from Jubilee's hands, dancing in the air before they exploded against Orphan Maker. "Skin, pronto!"

"Got it, chica!" Angelo's arm shot forward again, ducking under the stream of fireworks towards Armor Boy's chest. Ev cut off his attack to keep from hitting Angelo's unprotected arm, and Orphan Maker didn't miss the opportunity. He lunged suddenly and clumsily forward and Angelo whipped his arm away a little too late; Orphan Maker got a grip and used it to pull himself to his knees. Ev's fireworks instantly cut back in, but Orphan Maker seemed braced this time. He hauled Angelo slowly forward into the fight -- it seemed even The Great Stretch had his limits.

"Let him loose!" Chase shouted, grabbing Angelo from behind and lending his 200 pounds to the cause. Angelo's body bent and deformed under Chase's arms, but he held on grimly.

The sudden resistance almost tipped Armor Boy back over; Everett tried strengthening his blasts, with no effect. "Get him back down!"

With a sudden flash of inspiration, Chase shouted in Angelo's ear, "Let him pull us!" Angelo looked blank, then winced and nodded, bracing himself before letting his arm contract, the force of Orphan Maker's now-unresisted tug yanking both him and Chase across the room and full-tilt into Orphan Maker. Chase tried to get his body between Maker and Angelo, with partial success; all three went sprawling to the floor.

Jubilee and Ev both instantly cut the fireworks, but not before Chase felt something sear the skin of his shoulder. "Sorry!" Jubilee yelled.

"No problem," Chase growled in her direction, trying to lever Angelo off of his chest. Orphan Maker howled in rage, thrashing his armored limbs around underneath them; Chase finally shoved Angelo off to one side and rolled himself to the other.

Monet broke free of the lines that trapped her; as Orphan Maker raised his arms to attack again, she was able to swoop in and pull Angelo's limp form out of the way, just before Orphan Maker's arms smashed down where the young man's head had been. She deposited him gently by Paige as Chase rolled across the floor to avoid his side of the attack, coming up against Shea's overturned table. Behind him, the fireworks kicked in once more, pinning the Orphan Maker's arms to the ground where he'd slammed them.

"'Let's go to Massachusetts, it'll be safe there,'" he quoted sarcastically as he scrambled behind the table to shelter. "Yeah, safe with the Keystone Kops of superherodom. Who the hell came up with this brilliant idea, anyway, Sundance?"

"Less bitching, more thinking, Butch," Shea snapped without lifting her eyes from the fragment of the table she was still manipulating. Under her touch, it had turned from glass to something that shone with a steely gleam under the florescent lights, a long, jagged spike. "And that was a really stupid stunt."

"He's down again, isn't he?"

"For how long? You could have gotten killed, you idiot!"

"Hey, dudes!" Jubilee shouted, her face starting to look drawn as the explosions paffed from her hands. They were getting quieter, Chase thought, and more spread-out as the kid got tired. "We can't keep this goin' much longer!"

"Who's he after this time?" Ev yelled over the noise.

"He wants O'Reilly! Someone had better come up with a good plan, like, now!"

*How's this?* Monet's voice said calmly in their heads; Chase was too far gone to even be surprised. M ducked through the stream of fireworks to reach on Orphan Maker's chest for the regulator; her fingers caught the purple protrusion and pulled with all her considerable strength, as Jubilee and Everett kept Maker's arms pinned.

*I can't get it!* M 'yelled' in frustration. *It's part of the armor itself!*

"He's getting up," Ev hollered at the same time, as Orphan Maker tore one of his arms from under Jubilee's weakening blasts, stiff-arming Monet even as he struggled to a sitting position. Monet avoided the blow, reaching instead for the variety of hoses that protruded from the back of his helmet, and yanking them free. It didn't seem to accomplish much besides annoying him. Neither did Everett and Jubilee's sudden shift of fire, to focus their energy on the regulator.

"You're starting to make me really mad!" Armor Boy hollered in the voice of a pissed-off five-year-old. "Nanny's not going to like this!"

"Like we care!" Jubilee's words were pure bravado; her fireworks abruptly winked out and she staggered, then fell to her knees. Her right side was charred and bloody where Maker had shot her.

"Jubilee!" Everett shouted, his own blasts weakening.

"Got it!" Shea finished whatever she was doing and launched herself over the table. "Everyone -- jump on him!"

"Oh, no way!" Chase tried to protest, but Shea was already running from behind the table into the fray, her new weapon clutched firmly in her hand. A battle cry straight out of Xena: Warrior Princess burst from her throat as she dove for Armor Boy.

"Well, it's not good, but it's a plan!" Everett's explosions stopped and his aura left Jubilee to wrap around Monet; with a kamikaze yell, he jumped onto Orphan Maker's chest. Paige staggered from behind them to get back into the fight, her dense new form collapsing on Armor Boy's Legs as her talons dug into the armor to anchor herself.

"Let me up!" he bawled angrily, thrashing beneath them. "I'll get you for this, I really will!"

"Way cool!" Jubilee gasped, ignoring Armor Boy and crawling forward to join Husk. "Dogpile on the Orphan Maker! Where's Mondo when we need him?"

Chase cursed and followed Shea, landing on Orphan Maker's right arm. He pinned it with all his strength as Shea ducked under Everett's arm, sprawled over Armor Boy's head next to Monet, and slammed her metal spike directly through the center of the power regulator.

Naturally, it bounced right back up. She cursed and slammed it down again, with the same result. "Dammit! Monet!"

"I have it!" Monet dove over the helmet to take the spike and Everett wrapped his hands around hers. With the combined strength of both their bodies and both their powers, they drove the spike down through the regulator.

As his armor shattered under the blow and sparks flew wildly, Orphan Maker howled from underneath Shea and stopped moving, his powerless armor now freezing him in place. "All right!" Jubilee shouted triumphantly from the vicinity of his feet. "We win!"

"No! Peter!" An electronic voice boomed over the last of Jubilee's yell, sending agonizing feedback through Chase's head. "What have you done to my precious boy?"

"Or maybe not!" Chase groaned, rolling over to face the new threat; the sight of said new threat froze him almost as effectively as the Orphan Maker had, this time with sheer absurdity.

"It's an egg," he said calmly.

"That's Nanny!" Orphan Maker shouted. "Nanny, help me! They're cheating!"

The round, metallic robot strode down a ramp from the 'flying saucer' towards them, its wide yellow eyes blinking in agitation. "So they are, Peter," it said in a ludicrously proper English accent. "But Nanny won't let them hurt you, pet. Get off my boy!"

They got up as well as they could, but only to stand between Nanny and Orphan Maker, Shea buried in the middle of the crowd. "We're being attacked by Humpty-Dumpty," she groaned. "Why me?"

"Why us?" Chase echoed, making good and damn sure he was between Shea and all comers.

"Back off," Ev calmly warned Nanny, his aura still wrapped around Monet. "Shea O'Reilly is under our protection --we're not going to let you take her."

"Yeah!" Jubilee chimed in. "What he said!"

"She's better off with me! I can take care of her," Nanny proclaimed, as a beam of bright, solid light suddenly flared from her chest towards Shea. Husk lunged in front of it, and it disintegrated harmlessly off her new skin. The second and third staggered her.

Angelo caught her as she stumbled backwards, wincing as her elbow hit his ribs. "Well, that was stupid, chica."

"You had... a better idea?" Husk gasped, one hand clutching her side. Her form hadn't protected her that well, after all.

"Why won't you let her come with me?" Nanny wheedled, apparently letting the brute force idea go under the bloody-minded gazes of Generation X. "Those nice people looking for her will take care of her -- look how they've already helped me and my precious Peter, giving us our new ship and Peter's lovely new armor. You should let me take her to them, instead of attacking my boy. There's no one else who wants her as much as they do."

"Wrong, R2-D2," Chase said grimly. Anger was a burning ball in the pit of his stomach now, steadily fed by fear. "I want her."

Shea blinked up at him, then smiled. "Why Butch, I didn't know you cared," she purred under her breath.

He shrugged, struggling against a completely inappropriate laugh. "I don't."

"Nanny, make them let me up!" Orphan Maker whined from behind the line of scrimmage. At the same time, sirens started to cut the air outside the mall.

Nanny looked as pissed off as a robot could. "Then take her," she finally said, with a burst of static that sounded like an offended sniff. "Just let me have my boy!"

"No way!" Jubilee started to yell. Ev clamped his hand over her mouth.

"Fine," he answered shortly. "Get him out of here -- and don't come near Generation X again."

With another static sniff, Nanny marched between the teenagers to pull Orphan Maker to his feet, extruding a cable from her middle to plug into the ruins of his power regulator. The joints of his armor started moving again, as he whined, "But Nanny, you can't let them go. You promised they'd come with us. You promised the people she'd...."

"That'll be enough, Peter," Nanny cut him off firmly. "We'll deal with these obnoxious children another day, when you're feeling better. Come along now."

He followed the robot meekly up the ramp to the ship; it closed behind the two, and, with something that sounded distinctly like a backfire, ripped away across the sky.

They watched it go in total silence for a long minute. Then Jubilee and Paige both abruptly sat down, Angelo groaned and leaned over, pressing a hand against his ribs, and Shea started hyperventilating. With barely a glance at the others, Chase lowered Shea to the ground and knelt next to her.

"Breathe, Sundance," he ordered, as her breath hupped in and out in huge, uncontrolled gulps.

"You're a... big help," she said between gasps. "Jesus, my... chest... hurts."

"I know." He pulled her tightly against his unburned shoulder, holding her up as she struggled to draw air into her abused lungs. "Next time you have pneumonia, Shealee, don't go out and get into bar fights the next day, all right?"

"It was... a mall... fight," she corrected without opening her eyes.

"My mistake." He tightened his arms around her, trying to ignore the pain from his shoulder. "Mutants, supervillains, robots, government agencies.... Why is this my life?" Then, more loudly, "Is anyone bleeding?"

"Externally or internally?" Angelo gasped, clutching his side.

A few feet away, Ev knelt next to Jubilee, peeling her jacket away from her side. "This looks pretty messy," Everett reported. "Laser burn."

"Laser burn," Chase repeated in a disbelieving mutter. Husk closed her eyes and started... ripping her skin off, revealing normal flesh underneath. Chase looked away from them all, his reality strained enough for one day. Panic bubbled in his chest; he snapped orders out to Everett to keep it below the surface. "Keep Jubilee's burn dry and wrap something around it to keep the air away, or it'll get infected before we make it home. Not too tight, don't cut off circulation."

The sirens got louder, and shouts began to intrude on the weird silence of the food court. "We've got to get out of here before the cops get here," Ev said, as he followed Chase's instructions, wrapping a scrap of something that had once been someone's shirt around the ugly burn on Jubilee's torso. "We'll have to fly to the car."

"Fly?" Chase did *not* like the sound of that, but then, he didn't really like any of this.

Ev grinned sympathetically. "'Fraid so." His aura flared again to wrap around Monet, and he levered his arms under Jubilee, Angelo and Paige grabbing him at the same time. Monet crossed the floor to take hold of Chase under his shoulders, as Chase tightened his grip around Shea. Ev and Monet took deep breaths -- then the entire bunch was slowly lifted into the air, towards what had once been a glass ceiling.

As the ground dropped away, from them, Chase inspected the chaos they'd left behind. Shattered glass, splintered tables, terrified bystanders... "So much for safety," he sighed inaudibly, feeling the small box in his back pocket press hard dig into his flesh under Monet's grip. *And so much for getting out of this the easy way, damn it.*

A few feet above him, clutching Everett's neck, Jubilee echoed him more loudly. "Irish is gonna have a most major cow."

Chapter 9

"Have a little trust in us, when fear obscures the past
You know we go this far, darlin', not by luck,
But by never turning back."
-- Mary-Chapin Carpenter, 'The Hard Way'

"While Shakespeare took quite a few liberties with history when writing 'Julius Caesar' -- it is filled with anachronisms and, obviously, quite biased -- he also succeeded in drawing a rather vivid portrait of the people involved in Caesar's assassination. Consider Brutus...."

Shea, who had read 'Julius Caesar' in sophomore English and listened to roughly the same lecture at the time, tuned Ms. Frost out, gazing out the windows over the grounds and wishing she was outside instead of trapped in a classroom.

It had been more than three weeks since the battle at the mall, and life had settled down to something that, according to Paige, closely resembled normal. Personally, Shea didn't think any life which included classes on psychic shields, training sessions in a miniature biosphere, a computerized math teacher, casual visits from superheroes, and classmates who regarded all of the above as status quo, could be considered normal, but she was willing to go with it.

Chase, on the other hand....

She sighed soundlessly, propping her elbow on her desk and her chin on her fist. She could just see her partner back under the trees at the edge of campus, doing something to the sprawling lawn. Mr. Cassidy had offered to let Chase join the classes, of course, but aside from the 'mandatory for all residents' psi-resistance courses, Chase had firmly declined, pointing out that he'd been out of high school for four years.

Classes or not, everyone had been more or less confined to campus since the fight in the mall. Mr. Cassidy had, indeed, had a lot to say about that particular debacle, most of it obviously censored for underage ears, as he and Ms. Frost patched up the various injuries. No one had actually gotten into trouble, since even Ms. Frost couldn't figure out a way to blame them for it, but their teachers had *not* been happy.

Shea had a sneaking suspicion, backed up by late-night conversations with Paige, that what bothered Mr. Cassidy and Ms. Frost the most was, not the attack, but Orphan Maker and Nanny's comments about the people who had bribed them to kidnap Shea. They were even more disturbed by how quickly Orphan Maker and Nanny had located Shea and Chase.

Even to Shea's inexperienced eye, the whole thing looked messy as hell.

Paige hissed suddenly, and Shea yanked her attention back to the lecture. Ms. Frost was looking at her, her arms crossed over her chest, obviously waiting for an answer. Unfortunately, Shea hadn't heard the question.

*Marc Antony,* someone supplied psionically. Shea repeated it out loud, praying Jono hadn't suddenly developed a sense of humor.

"Correct, Jonothon," Ms. Frost answered in an icy tone, not even slightly fooled. Shea winced and slumped lower down in her chair, shrugging a 'thanks anyway' to Jono, who shrugged back. Paige and Ev both gave her sympathetic looks as Ms. Frost went back to her lecture.

Even with that bit of humiliation as motivation, Shea's attention wandered back out the window to Chase. He didn't look back, which worried her. When they'd first arrived, it was as if they'd had some kind of radar -- she always knew where he was, and vice versa. Now....

She sighed again, running her fingers idly along her pencil. Under her touch, it changed from wood, to plastic, to chalk, and back to wood. She knew what adamantium was now, and could have changed it to that, or even gold. But she didn't feel like making the effort.

It was costing her more and more to pretend everything was all right, that she was comfortable in this school with these people, that she didn't still have nightmares about the Bureau and the Orphan Maker. That the government wasn't still trying to find her. That Chase wasn't acting like a stranger.

It had probably started the night after the mall fight, when Ms. Frost had insisted Chase transfer from the infirmary to the boy's dorm, and Mr. Cassidy had backed her up. Shea was in her own room in the girl's dorm now, and slowly getting used to getting by on her own.

But it was more than just sleeping in separate buildings; they were also spending most of the day apart, her in classes and him working around the grounds, trying to keep himself occupied. He smiled when they were together, hugged her and teased her like always, but.... She didn't think he was avoiding her -- at least, she tried not to think it.

At least Chase had been able to stay pretty busy around campus. He loved being outdoors, Shea had discovered, and spent the better part of his days working on the lawn, which was just beginning to turn from winter brown to the pale green of spring, and in the gardens. He also disappeared for hours at a time into the woods that surrounded the school. Shea had no idea what he did while she was in class, but she could see him growing steadily more restless. And as his restlessness grew, so did her fear.

As she watched, Chase straightened from raking up the remains of last fall's leaves and turned to the front of the house, apparently in response to someone's call. He listened, then suddenly dropped his rake and took off running around the side of the mansion.

Shea leaned forward automatically, trying to see past the window frame to what had gotten Chase so excited. Her answer came a moment later, with the low-pitched, throbbing gun of a very familiar engine. Chase came tearing down the side walk and onto the paths into the woods on the back of his precious Harley, popping a wheelie as he entered the trees.

"All right! They got the bike back!" She hadn't meant to shout, but the sight of the bike brought her to her feet, excitement racing through her. Despite her endless complaining during the solid week she'd spent on the back of that motorcycle, she'd missed it almost as badly as Chase had.

"Shea, sit down, please!" Ms. Frost said sharply. "We're in the middle of class."

For a brief moment, Shea weighed Ms. Frost's displeasure against her own excitement and Chase's obvious joy. There was no contest -- she jumped over Angelo's outstretched feet as she raced into the hall and down the stairs, shouting, "Sorry!" over her shoulder.

She broke out the front door into the May sunlight at a dead run, nearly flattening Mr. Cassidy, who was watching Chase's antics with a wide, satisfied grin. "You got the bike back!" Shea shouted, forgetting herself enough to throw her arms around Mr. Cassidy's neck in an enthusiastic hug, then releasing him an instant later as the motorcycle came roaring back down the path towards the front.

Chase had a broad smile on his face, the first true smile she'd seen from him in... too long, she realized. He guided the bike directly towards her, and their eyes met in that odd communication they'd almost forgotten over the last few weeks. As the bike slowed, he held out his arm and she grabbed his hand, jumping on behind him in one smooth move. He gunned the engine again and then they were tearing away together down the driveway, as her whoop of triumph echoed off the walls of the school.

The wind whipped through her hair, destroying her ponytail, and she savored the feeling of freedom it gave her, snuggling closer to Chase's back. She could feel him laughing through her arms and hands, could almost see the manic grin pasted across his face. The gates stopped them at the end of the drive, and Chase executed a death-defying turn that tilted them to only a few inches above the sidewalk. Shea didn't even flinch.

As they turned around and headed back up the drive, she saw the rest of her English class come pouring out the front door, Ms. Frost, resigned, bringing up the rear. Jubilee, Angelo, Ev and Paige were cheering, and Jono looked as cheerful as Jono ever got. Mondo always looked cheerful, of course, but his face was split in a grin that almost matched Mr. Cassidy's. Even Ms. Frost was smiling reluctantly.

The little boys came tumbling around the other side of the building, drawn out of the biosphere by the noise, and jumped up and down happily, probably not quite sure what the cheering was about, but more than happy to get in on it. Shea made a mental note to take them for rides, then they were drawing up to the main house again, and Chase was slowing.

They stopped a few feet from the noisy crowd; Chase braced them with one leg and half turned to look at her, letting the motor idle. He was smiling so broadly she thought his face would split, his eyes shining with a joyous light. The wind had whipped color into his tanned cheeks, and his hair was thoroughly messed up, tumbling forward into his face. Shea couldn't help herself -- she leaned forward and kissed him.

His arms came around her instantly, twisting her forward and around until she was sprawled across his lap. She almost fell off, but recovered herself by clutching him around the neck. The sun was in the sky, she was in Chase's arms again, there was no distance between them, and all was right with the world.

The sound of renewed cheers and whistles finally got through to them; Chase stiffened and broke the kiss, forcing Shea a few inches away. She went unwillingly, laughing up at him until he relented and smiled. But he still made her move off his lap.

"Now that you've gotten that out o' y'r systems," Mr. Cassidy said, trying to sound stern -- the attempt was spoiled by the twinkle in his eyes, "Y' can go inside and call Jennifer t' thank her."

"How'd she do it?" Chase asked, running his hand possessively over the handlebars. "I thought Van Dyke and Monkey Boy confiscated it for good."

Mr. Cassidy smiled smugly. "It seems she had a little talk with the Pittsburgh Police Impound Yard. Since the two of y' were never formally booked, and the Bureau didn't bother t'involve the local constabulary in their so-called arrest, they dinnae have records o' you two ever bein' there. Therefore, they dinnae have any legitimate reason not t' release the bike they picked up off the road t' y'r attorney, once she paid the towin' fee. The two agents who grabbed ye apparently took y'r wallets and the keys, but Jennifer had a new set made. The truck delivered it about ten minutes ago."

"Thank you, Jennifer!" Chase said with deep feeling. He grinned at Shea, tugging a strand of her hair. "Hey, Sundance, want to go into town after we call Jen?"

"Hell, yes!" Shea answered happily, bouncing off the bike. "Soon as I change clothes." Ms. Frost gave her an evil eye. "And, um, finish English class," she finished guiltily.

"Actually...," Mr. Cassidy said carefully, "it would be better for the both of you if ye stuck close to home for a while longer."

"Aw, come on, Teach," Shea teased, still bubbling with joy. "We won't go far and we'll be home by bedtime."

"I'm sure ye would be, Shea." Mr. Cassidy didn't even smile at her; his attention was focused on Chase. "But, for a while longer at least, it would be safer for ye both if y' stayed on campus."

Shea, her good mood slowly dissipating at Mr. Cassidy's serious tone, followed his eyes to Chase. The smile had disappeared from her partner's face; he looked nearly as grim now as Mr. Cassidy did.

"So what you're saying," he said slowly, "is that we're stuck here."

Ms. Frost started to say something; Mr. Cassidy cut her off with a single look over his shoulder. She didn't look happy, but didn't say anything, either. "It's for y'r own safety, lad. Orphan Maker and Nanny found ye too damn quickly, and we dinnae know who they told. If the wrong person sees the two o' ye, they could trace y' back here."

Chase smiled again, but it was humorless, with a sharp edge of bitterness. Shea had a sudden flash to a Pittsburgh interrogation room, when Van Dyke had been threatening them both to find out where Xavier's was. As he'd told her to go to hell, consigning himself to prison, Chase had had that exact same expression on his face.

"That's great," he said sarcastically. "Instead of being prisoners wherever Van Dyke and Monkey Boy would have taken us, we get to be prisoners here. That's a lot better. So, how long are going to be trapped here? Days? Weeks? Years?"

"You're overreacting, Chase," Shea intervened, stepping between him and Mr. Cassidy. "You're making it sound a lot worse than it is."

He shook his head harshly. "No, I think I'm telling it just about like it is. We get to sit around here until someone *does* find us -- either the Bureau, or one of the villain-types you people attract -- and be just as much prisoners as we would've been anyway. Isn't that right, *Mr.* Cassidy?"

Shea spun to face Mr. Cassidy, waiting for him to deny what Chase had said, desperately wanting him to explain how everything really was going to be all right. But he couldn't quite meet her eyes, and she felt her hard-won illusion of safety begin to shatter around her.

The other kids were clustered behind Mr. Cassidy; most of them looked as if they were torn between defending their teacher, and waiting breathlessly for his answer. Ms. Frost looked cool and remote, as if her body was present, but her mind was involved with countless other thoughts, all of which were more important than Chase's question.

Mr. Cassidy closed his eyes as Shea turned her gaze back to him, rubbing his forehead tiredly. "I let y' go off-campus once, and y' almost didn't come back," he said, his brogue growing thicker and slower. When he opened his eyes again, they were almost pleading for Chase to understand. "This is the only way we can keep y' safe, at least for now. I'm sorry, both of ye, but I just cannae think of another way."

Chase breathed out hard through his teeth. "Sorry. That's just great," he said shortly. Without another word, or even a look at Shea, he gunned the motorcycle and spun it in a half turn with a squeal of rubber, before racing back into the woods.

"Dude," Jubilee whistled as the sound of his bike faded away. "Never thought I'd see Mr. Cool throw a temper tantrum."

"He was not throwing a tantrum," Shea snapped.

"Tantrum or not, I'd better be goin' after him," Mr. Cassidy said grimly. "Just in case he decides t' do somethin' foolish."

He drew a deep breath, and Shea covered her ears hastily -- she knew how noisy his sonic Superman impression was, and had no desire to replace her newly-healed hand and lungs with burst eardrums. "Mr. Cassidy, wait," she said, just as hastily. "It's better if I talk to him. He'll listen to me... well, sometimes. I can get him calmed down."

Mr. Cassidy looked at her for a long second, then nodded, letting his breath out slowly. "Can ye find him?"

Shea shrugged. "Sure. How many motorcycle tracks can there be around here?"

"All right, then, go on. But ye'll make up the English class later," he tacked on after Ms. Frost cleared her throat pointedly.

Shea smiled a little, trying to hide the sick feeling in her stomach. "Yeah, Teach. I'll make it up."

She started after the motorcycle as Mr. Cassidy and Ms. Frost started herding the others back to class, but paused. "Mr. Cassidy?"

He turned back to her, and she fumbled for words. "He's just... not used to depending on anyone else. He's not good at it."

Mr. Cassidy sighed, running one hand through his hair, as if he didn't know what else to do with it. "I know, Shea. But ye've got precious little choice right now, the both of ye."

Shea shrugged helplessly. "He knows. That's what's driving him so crazy."

Mr. Cassidy looked as if he would say something else, but tightened his lips instead, and walked into the house. Shea, her shoulders hunched and her hands pushed deep into her pockets, started after Chase.

*****

Finding Chase wasn't too hard -- he was more or less where she thought he'd be. The tiny pond in the middle of the west woods apparently only existed for a couple of months in spring. When she'd first seen it during one of the 'nature hikes' Mr. Cassidy liked, Paige had said the students used it as for wading and water fights; it wasn't really deep enough for anything else. Shea had brought Chase back later, and they'd promptly tested the water fight part.

Now, Chase stood at the edge, one foot propped on an old stump. He had a handful of pebbles and was methodically plunking them, one by one, into the shallow water. He didn't say anything when she came up, although she didn't make any effort to move quietly. His bike leaned against a tree nearby; Shea propped one hip against it, silently waiting for him to speak first.

"You going to yell at me?" he asked, not as if the answer meant anything.

Shea bit her lip. "No."

"Good." Plunk, plunk. He wasn't meeting her eyes, staring instead at the ripples the pebbles left in the still water of the pond. Shea cleared another stump of leaves and possible creepy-crawlies, and sat down, trying to find something to do with her hands and eyes. She settled for fiddling with her hair, which was falling in a tangled mass around her shoulders and into her face.

"It's not their fault, you know."

Her voice seemed too loud in the silence of the trees. Chase didn't react. "Yeah," he finally admitted, plunking the last of his handful of rocks into the water and dusting off his hands. "I know. That doesn't make me like it any better."

"I wish...." Her words came out on a tiny breath of air, trailing away into nothing. She hadn't really meant to say anything at all, and had no idea how the sentence was supposed to end.

Chase apparently did. "Yeah," he repeated, "I know. But it did happen, all of it, and we're stuck with it."

"Could be worse," Shea offered, trying to lighten the moment. "We could still be in Copper Lake.

Chase groaned. "Anything but that." He grinned, though, and Shea felt her own mood lift slightly. He sighed heavily and took his boot off the stump, then flopped to the ground next to her, crossing his arms over his bent knees and staring out into nothing.

"I'm sorry I got you into this," she said, after another long, silent moment. "If I'd known...."

"It was my call, Shealee," he cut her off before she could get back into the self-pity mode she knew he hated. "I was the one who came tearing to the rescue. My choice, not yours."

"Your choice, my fault."

He didn't deny it that time, and Shea bit her lip so hard she tasted blood. "I wish you wouldn't fight everything so hard. It's not forever, Chase. Just a little while, until Mr. Cassidy and Professor Xavier and Jennifer can figure out how to get us out of this."

"And how long is that going to take, Shea, huh? How long am I going to be stuck here?" He exploded back to his feet and stalked across the ground, shoving his hands through his hair.

"I didn't realize it was such a chore to be around me!" Shea was on her feet as well, shouting. "I wish you could leave, I'm sorry you're stuck here, I'm sorry I got you into this whole damn thing! But I guess you're just going to have to live with it, 'cause there's no way to go back!"

"Dammit, Shea, I didn't mean it like that." He caught her arm before she could turn and stomp away; she pulled it free with an angry yank. "Dammit, will you just listen to me!"

She kept her back turned to him, sniffing back hurt, angry tears. Damned if she would give him the satisfaction of seeing her cry. "Well?"

He breathed out hard, frustration echoing in the sound. "Look," he said through his teeth, "it's not because of you, all right? I just... I don't know how much longer I can do this, Shealee. It's like... why did I bother getting us out of Copper Lake in the first place? We're just as stuck here as we were there, and then some. Hell, I can't even go to the city and pretend I'm free. I hate this, all of it!"

"Well, you'd better try pretending for a little longer," she replied, her voice as tightly under control as his. She didn't want him to see how much his careless words had frightened her, hurt her, and hid the emotions under anger. "Van Dyke and the Bureau aren't going to give a damn about your itchy feet. They'll be happy to throw you into another interrogation room, or a jail cell. This is the only place where we're going to be safe. So get used to it, and give us all a break."

They faced each other down for a long moment, then Chase abruptly turned away, his face set and hard. Shea bit her lip, then started walking back towards the school. Unconsciously, she moved faster and faster, until she finally broke into a run, letting the wind whip every thought and emotion from her heart. Blinded by wind and tears, she didn't see the cars in the driveway until it was almost too late.

Chapter 10

"I'm a man that will go far
Fly the moon and reach for the stars
With my sword and my head held high
Got to pass the test first time"
-- Queen, 'Princes of the Universe'

As the sound of Shea's pounding feet faded away into the trees, Chase called himself every name he could think of. No matter how miserable he was here, he'd been determined to hide it, to make sure Shea settled in, that she was safe. But no, he had to go and have a temper tantrum in front of her, her teachers, and her classmates.

"Congratulations, Matthews," he muttered to himself, kicking at a tree stump. "That was very mature. Very dignified. Way to keep her feeling happy and safe. First kiss her, which you were *not* supposed to do anymore, then kick her in the gut. Real good."

He caught a branch with his toe and sent it skittering across the clearing into the shadows -- which jumped. Chase stopped and squinted into the trees. "Penance? That you lurking in there?"

Everything was very still for a long moment, then Penance slowly edged away of the trees without leaving their cover. She crouched close to the dirt, her red-and-black body blending oddly with the ground.

"Don't want to get any nearer, huh, Penny?" Chase sighed, sitting down on the ground and letting his head hang between his raised knees. "I don't blame you. *I* don't particularly want to be around me these days."

Penance cocked her head slightly, but didn't answer, which was no surprise. She didn't talk to anyone. Still, it helped to have someone listening -- at least he could pretend he wasn't talking to himself.

"I didn't mean to go off at Shea," he told her, raking his hands through his hair. "I just.. I don't belong here. All of these kids, with all of these powers, and all of these brains.... Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters, what am *I* doing here? I dropped out of high school, for god's sake!"

He got to his feet abruptly; Penance flinched, but didn't run. "Supervillains, government agencies, outlaws, mutants all over the place, blowing things up and trying to kill each other -- I never asked for any of this! I'm just an ordinary guy, nothing special, not like them! Not like Shea!" He stopped, blew his breath out hard, and thought seriously about beating his head against a tree, refraining only because he already had a headache. He leaned his forearm against it instead, burying his face in his sleeve.

"Shealee's the special one," he said quietly, not even pretending to talk to Penance anymore. "I'm just a small-town loser, and I am never going to belong here. No matter how much I wish I did." He rubbed his shoulder, where the burn from Jubilee and Everett's fireworks had left a small, barely-visible scar. "All I can do here is get myself in more trouble than even I thought was possible."

He was so lost in his own self-indulgent pity that he didn't hear Penance come up behind him until something smooth and hard touched his cheek. He turned his head enough to see Penance standing mostly erect, staring at him with wide, blue eyes, one finger touching his cheek with extreme care. She could have cut him to the bone with a careless touch, but she didn't.
She just looked at him with those blank, wise eyes.

"I know what I have to do, Penny," he admitted to her softly. "I know. I just don't want to."

They stood staring at each other for another long moment, then Penance dropped her hand and silently slipped back into the trees. Reluctantly, Chase followed her lead and started walking the bike back towards campus.

*****

He had just hit the treeline when a voice echoed oddly inside his head. *Finished sulking, Chase? Stay away from the house.*

*Get out of my head,* he thought fiercely back at Ms. Frost, getting the mental equivalent of a shake in return.

*We have unexpected visitors.* Even telepathically, he could hear the repressed anger in her cool voice. *I want all of you children to stay out of sight. If you must come in, go directly -- and *quietly* -- to the war room and remain there until we come.*

Visitors.... There weren't that many kinds of visitors that would bother Ms. Frost -- even after only a few weeks, Chase had figured that much out. And any visitors that could shake Ms. Frost meant bad news for him, and Shea.

He leaned the bike against a tree and took off for the main house at a dead run.

The center of the grounds looked oddly quiet. There were no basketball games, no exuberant rounds of tag, no one showing off their powers or setting the lawn on fire. There was a new car in the driveway, parked behind Ms. Frost's -- a black four-door sedan that was too damn familiar. He knew who it belonged to even before he recognized the license plates.

Chase had to slow down to open the back door, then started running again, through the kitchen and down the hidden staircase that had seemed like a joke when Everett and Angelo had first shown it to him. He wasn't laughing now, though.

The steel door at the end of the staircase stood open, and he barreled through it, slamming open the door to the so-called 'war room' --

-- And stopping in his tracks as five teenagers turned on him, ready to attack. "Chill, it's me!" he snapped hastily.

Everett's aura, which had flared to wrap around Jubilee, subsided slowly. "Don't do that, man," he said seriously. "You almost got fried."

"Sorry," Chase apologized automatically. "What the hell is going on?"

"We got bad company," Angelo said, without turning away from a flickering security monitor. Monet hunched over a terminal next to him, typing so quickly her fingers were a blur.

"See for yourself." Everett gestured over his shoulder at the various computers and viewscreens that made up the war room, covering every wall and not a little bit of the floor space. When Chase had been down there during the grand tour, they'd been mostly deactivated. Now, all of them were glowing, clicking, beeping, and otherwise turned on. Under normal circumstances, Chase probably would have been fascinated by the sheer tech level of the various electronic toys, but these circumstances were anything but normal.

Shea was sitting tensely in one of the chairs around the main table, staring at the huge viewscreen on the wall. As Paige and Jubilee calmed down from Chase's loud entrance, they returned to her side. "Looks like some old friends of yours are paying a visit," Jubilee cracked, blowing a huge bubble. Her tone was flippant, but her eyes were intense. "There's gonna be some fun now."

"Shut up, Jubilee," Paige snapped. Shea didn't appear to notice either of them.

Chase strode across the room to Shea's side, but she didn't seem to notice that either. Her eyes were glued to the screen, which was currently displaying a wide-angle view of Cassidy's office. Cassidy was sitting at his desk, Ms. Frost standing behind him with her arms crossed grimly over her chest. Sitting on the chairs in front of the desk were the two people Chase least wanted to see.

"Van Dyke and Monkey Boy," he groaned. "What the hell is the Bureau doing *here*?"

Everett came up behind him. "I don't know," the younger man said calmly, "but they've been in with Ms. Frost and Mr. Cassidy for almost half-an-hour."

Chase fought down a surge of terror. "Let me guess -- they want me and Shea."

Everett nodded slowly. "They're being really polite about it, and Ms. Frost and Mr. Cassidy are denying you're even here six ways from Sunday, but yeah, that's what they want."

*The real question,* Jono inserted psionically, seating himself on the edge of the table, *is how they found you.*

Chase's mouth tightened grimly. "Got that right. Is that woman a bloodhound? Or just too damn stubborn to know when to quit?"

"Both, probably," Shea said wryly. Chase looked down at her, and she smiled quickly, a crooked grin that didn't hide the sick fear in her eyes. He shook his head in return, rolling his eyes at the screen in silent, grim amusement the luck of the universe.

Shea shrugged in rueful agreement, then leaned forward abruptly, the grin dying. "Angelo, up the volume!"

"Si, got it."

The volume rose, and so did Van Dyke's voice. "--mn it, I know those kids are here," the slender, dark-haired woman hissed at Ms. Frost. Even on screen, her dark eyes were cold enough to send a chill down Chase's spine. He sensed more than felt Shea's shudder, and put a steadying hand on her shoulder. "They were spotted with students from this school, just a few miles away in Boston, and Matthews's motorcycle was just delivered here. The longer you wait to turn them over to us, the more it's going to cost you. *All* of you."

"Van Dyke's getting nasty," Everett observed.

"They must have spotted us at the mall, thanks to Nanny," Shea groaned, hiding her face in her hands. Paige dropped her hand to Shea's other shoulder, tightening it in sympathy.

"Take it easy, Shealee." Chase forced his voice to be calm and soothing. It was hard, when all he wanted to do was kick something... or kill something. "They're probably just blowing steam. If they could prove anything, they'd have come bulling in with a warrant again. Those two aren't exactly big on subtlety, you know?"

"No joke." Shea sniffed heavily and scrubbed her hands across her cheeks, tilting her chin up defiantly.

"Who *are* they, anyway? And why do they want you so bad?" Jubilee asked, staring at the screen with interest.

"Van Dyke and Monkey Boy, from the Bureau. They were two of the ones chasing us," Chase told her. "Looks like they've caught up again, dammit."

"And they want me because of my powers, mostly," Shea added with resignation. "They want me to, I don't know, spin straw into gold, or the nineties Rapunzel equivalent. Besides, from some of the things we've heard, I'm one of the only mutants their project has tracked down for sure."

"And you call him Monkey Boy because?" Ev asked.

"Because the first time we saw him, She-Hulk was dangling him out a window by one leg. And because it annoys him." Chase looked down at Shea. "What is his real name, anyway?"

She shrugged. "Garnet, Garner, something like that. Who remembers?" The total unconcern in her voice didn't match the tension radiating from her body.

"Andrea Van Dyke and Jeffrey Garner, to be specific," Monet contributed, without looking up from her terminal. "Special agents, Bureau of Mutant Affairs, both assigned to something called Project: Nike."

Everyone swung to look at her. "How do you know that?" Chase demanded.

"Because I'm currently accessing their personnel database," Monet answered calmly. "They are a sub-section of the Department of Health, and their computer security is laughable."

Everett, Jono and Paige both got up to look over Monet's shoulder; Chase stayed with Shea, who seemed unable to tear her eyes away from the main screen. She was watching Van Dyke with the horrified fascination normally reserved for a snake crawling across someone's foot.

"Either you cooperate with us, or we'll be back with a warrant!" Monkey Boy said loudly, getting to his feet.

"Y're welcome to bring back a warrant," Cassidy said without budging, his face pleasant and completely unreadable. "But ye won't find anything here ye'll be interested in. I guarantee that."

Paige chuckled softly. "Only Mr. Cassidy could tell someone t' go t' hell in such a nice, polite kind o' way," she explained, when everyone's eyes swung to look at her.

Ms. Frost wasn't bothering to be nice, or polite. "And if you do return a warrant," she said coldly, uncrossing her arms so she could glare better, "you'd better be prepared for the lawsuit I'll bring against you. I will not have you disturbing my students to play out some kind of delusional, paranoid fantasy."

"What students?" Van Dyke asked silkily. "I haven't seen a single child since we arrived. Hiding them, are you?"

Ms. Frost's eyes narrowed until only a slit of ice blue showed. "Our students are in class, studying. That's why we call it a school. Are you familiar with the concept of school, Agent Van Dyke?"

"Uh-oh, Frosty's getting mad." Jubilee popped her gum again. "Hope she doesn't try any mind games, or Irish is gonna flip."

"Hey, it could work. 'These aren't the mutants you're looking for'," Angelo intoned in a deep voice.

Paige and Shea both giggled nervously, but their amusement faded quickly. "God, how did they find us so fast?" Shea moaned.

"Orphan Maker," Paige and Jubilee said together, Everett and Monet echoing them half a beat later. "We know they were workin' for the Bureau and Nanny has some kinda weird tech advantage," Paige continued softly. "She found the X-Men when they were hidin' in the middle of nowhere in Australia, for Pete's sake. But even if they did hire her, that stuff ain't... *isn't* going to be admissible in court. Ah don't know how they're goin' t' get a warrant."

Paige's usual efforts to hide her accent were slipping in and out, depending on how much attention she was paying. Chase thought about pointing it out, but decided this wasn't a good time to be a smartass.

"They could probably obtain a warrant based on the delivery of Chase's bike to the school," Monet pointed out. "That was, perhaps, an unwise action on Ms. Walters's part."

Chase winced.

"This would be a lot easier on everyone if you'd just turn the kid over to us instead of playing games," Monkey Boy said, standing so that he could look down at Cassidy.

Cassidy countered by standing as well; he had a good two inches on Monkey Boy and used them. "I don't play games where m' students are concerned," he said, giving each syllable a very clear emphasis. "And I don't have time t' be playin' at all. If y'r finished here...?" His tone implied that they'd better be.

Van Dyke stood gracefully. "Yes, I think we're definitely finished. You will be hearing from us."

Ms. Frost smiled nastily. "I look forward to it."

"They're leaving!" Ev hissed.

"Angelo, follow them," Monet snapped without looking up from her keyboard.

"Si, si," Angelo said with annoyance, already pounding on his. "I got it covered."

The screen shifted from Cassidy's office to the front hall. It was a weird angle, the camera positioned behind the office and off to one side, but they could still see almost everything.

"You've got one more chance. If you turn O'Reilly and Matthews over to us now, we might not shut your little school down." Monkey Boy continued to issue threats as he left Cassidy's office. Van Dyke let him talk, her eyes flicking around the front hall like a snake's.

"F'r the last time, we dinna have yer missin' children," Cassidy said with exasperation.

"And you expect us to believe that?" Despite the height difference, Monkey Boy hadn't given up on staring Cassidy down. It still didn't work.

"Seein' as how it's the truth," Cassidy lied levelly, "yes."

Monkey Boy's face darkened and he started to shout something, but Van Dyke cut him off with a gesture, staring steadily past Ms. Frost towards the door. "Enough. We'll be returning with a warrant," she told them, "and when we do, I'll expect Miss O'Reilly to be waiting. Or you'll find yourselves being arrested for kidnapping and obstruction of justice."

Ms. Frost's eyes were narrowed to slits, but all she said was, "Try."

Van Dyke smiled, a tiny smile with an edge of smugness that worried Chase more than all of Monkey Boy's bluster. "We will," she said calmly, then strode past Ms. Frost and out the front door. After one last furious glare, Monkey Boy stalked out after her.

Ms. Frost and Cassidy exchanged Meaningful Looks, and Cassidy went to the front window, presumably to make sure the agents actually left. Angelo played with his terminal, and the viewscreen shifted to show the black sedan slowly pulling out of the driveway. Everyone else watched silently.

"Ever notice how so-called adults start actin' like children when they don't get what they want?" Paige finally observed, her voice a little shaky. "All of 'em sounded like my kid brothers arguin' over a baseball."

The door to the war room opened and Ms. Frost stepped inside. "Our guests have departed," she told them, before noticing the viewscreen. "Ah. I assume you eavesdropped on the entire conversation, children?"

"You expected anything else?" Monet asked coolly.

"No, actually. Why do you think I told you to go to the war room?" She flicked her eyes around the room, taking in the small huddles of people. Paige was leaning unconsciously against Jono, both still standing behind Monet. Ev leaned back against the desk next to Angelo, his arms crossed and his eyes solemn. Angelo sprawled in his chair, looking upside-down at Ms. Frost, and Jubilee still hadn't budged from her position holding up the side of the table.

Shea turned in her chair to look at Ms. Frost, her eyes wide and her face pale. Chase resisted the urge to hug her and assure her everything was going to be all right. "What's... what's going to happen next?" she asked.

Ms. Frost looked surprised. "Trigonometry class for you and Angelo, algebra for Jubilee; I believe Sean is expecting the rest of you for calculus, and it is Paige's turn to cook dinner. Is Mondo still in the biosphere with Artie and Leech?"

*Yeah, they're there,* Jono confirmed.

"Good." Ms. Frost turned and went regally back up the stairs. "Class begins in five minutes."

Chase glared after her with impotent frustration. "Nice to know where you stand," he muttered.

"No lie." Shea's jaw was clenched, one hand running over the opposite wrist in the nervous gesture she'd developed while her handcuff bruises had healed. "Damn it, why does she treat us like kids?"

"Because she can." Paige sighed and left Monet, taking Shea's arm. "Come on, we better get movin' before she decides t' take her lousy mood out on us."

"What if I take mine out on her?" Shea grumbled, letting Paige tug her to her feet and towards the door. Chase's hand dropped uselessly from her shoulder as she moved away without even glancing at him. Crisis over, she'd apparently remembered she was mad at him.

With varying levels of complaining and muttering, the others followed, until only Monet and Chase were left. But Monet was still staring intently at the Bureau database, lost again in her own world.

"M? Yo, Earth to Monet." Chase tried a few times to get the girl's attention, then gave up. Shoving his hands deeply into his pockets, he started towards the stairs.

He was halfway up when Monet's voice came floating up to him. "I wonder what Agent Van Dyke was looking at before she left?" she asked in a peculiar, indifferent tone.

Chase shrugged, then froze. Then, his heart pounding, he raced up the stairs, skittering past the knot of students into the front hall. It was only a moment before he figured out what had happened, and his curse echoed through the distinguished halls of the Massachusetts Academy.

Chapter 11

"There's not a word yet
for old friends who've just met.
Part heaven, part space
Or have I found my place?"
-- The Great Gonzo, 'I'm Going to Go Back There Someday'

"Chase?" The viciousness behind Chase's curse caught Shea by surprise; she forgot she wasn't speaking to him and ran to his side, Paige half a step behind. "What is it, what's wrong?"

"That," he said through gritted teeth, pointing at the coat rack. He reached out and snatched something off, shaking it in his fist. "*This*."

It was Shea's rubbery ski jacket, hung up that morning in plain sight and forgotten in the rush to get from dormitory to class. The ski jacket she'd been wearing when Van Dyke and Monkey Boy had arrested them, the completely unique jacket that could only belong to one person. And Van Dyke knew it.

Mr. Cassidy had come out of his office at Chase's curse; his automatic reprimand died on his lips as he saw what Chase held. The small group stared at the jacket in dead silence, letting the implications sink in. Chase's grip tightened until his knuckles turned dead white, to match his face.

Shea bit her lip so hard she could taste blood and ran one trembling finger down the jacket sleeve. The same hand balled into a helpless, terrified fist, and she leaned her head on Chase's shoulder. He didn't seem to notice.

"Take it easy, lad," Mr. Cassidy said softly, reaching past Shea and prying the jacket out of Chase's hands. "Ye dinnae know they saw anything."

Chase's jaw was clenched. "You don't know they didn't. And if they did...." His voice trailed off, and his fists tightened again as he spun on Mr. Cassidy, almost knocking Shea over. Paige steadied her. "You said she'd be *safe* here!"

"She will be," Mr. Cassidy responded grimly and Shea swallowed. If Van Dyke or Garner had seen her coat, then they'd know beyond a doubt that she and Chase were at the Massachusetts Academy. And what would stop them from coming back with a court order? Or a SWAT team? What could the MassAcad do against that?

"We won't let them have ye, Shea," Mr. Cassidy spoke again, this time to her. She wondered for a moment if he was the telepath, instead of Ms. Frost, then realized her thoughts must be written all over her face.

She forced herself to nod as if she believed him; he didn't buy it, but with a heavy sigh, he turned to rehang her jacket. "I believe all of ye have classes," he said as he turned back to them, looking tired. "And it's your turn t' cook dinner, Paige."

"Yes, sir," Paige said in a subdued tone. "Ah remember."

"I'll help," Shea volunteered, after another look at Chase. He still didn't acknowledge her, staring at the jacket with an expression that frightened the hell out of her. It was only slightly comforting to realize his rage was directed at the Bureau, not her. "I don't think trig class is going to be real useful right now."

Mr. Cassidy nodded. "Go on, I'll clear it wi' Emma. Go on," he repeated when she hesitated, smoothing her hair with one big hand in a comforting gesture. She resisted the urge to throw her arms around him and just hang on. She would rather have hugged Chase, hidden in his arms, but he was still refusing to look at her, his body tense, his face blank and completely unreadable, even to her. Especially to her.

So she trailed after Paige to the kitchen.

They worked together silently, patting out hamburgers and starting the deep fryer heating for French fries. Shea put a lot more concentration into tearing lettuce for a salad than necessary, but still couldn't stop dwelling.

Van Dyke and Garner's appearance here, in the place she'd finally started to believe was safe, had shaken her badly. It seemed so unfair, so wrong. The bastards had chased her across an entire country already. "Damn it, why can't they just leave us alone!"

She didn't realize she'd said it out loud until Paige looked over. "Mr. Cassidy meant what he said, you know," the other girl said sympathetically. "He and Ms. Frost, they'll protect you. Everyone will."

"Oh, great." Shea's smile was bitter. "What are they going to do -- take all of their students and go out and fight the bad guys for us? Get hurt, maybe get arrested or killed, for a couple of people you barely know? That would just be really great for you guys."

Paige's face hardened and she dropped the hamburger patty she'd been shaping. It fell to the counter with a splat. "We know you plenty, Shea," she declared, her blue eyes burning into Shea's with an intense glare that dared her to argue. "You fought with us against the Orphan Maker--"

"Who wouldn't have come after you if it wasn't for me," Shea inserted.

"And we beat him because o' you *and* Chase," Paige finished, ignoring the interruption. Her accent had gotten thicker, a sure sign that she was upset. "You'd fight for us an' we'll fight for you. You're part o' Xavier's now, part o' Generation X, and we take care of our own, no arguments. Got that?"

"I... Yes, ma'am." Shea felt strangely ashamed. "I didn't think.. I mean, I thought...."

"You thought you couldn't depend on anyone but Chase," Paige finished for her. "Ah know exactly what you mean. But what you don't get is that neither o' you are alone anymore. You got Mr. Cassidy t' depend on, and Ms. Frost, and Ms. Walters, and the Professor, and all of the X-Men, especially us. We take care of each other." She shook her head grimly. "We have to -- there's precious few other people in the world who're goin' t' do it for us."

"Chase did."

Paige smiled a little. "Yeah, well -- Chase is real special. You're lucky you found him -- Ah envy you findin' him." She looked away for a second, a quick cloud passing through her eyes. Then she shrugged it off, pinning Shea with her strangely adult glare again. "What Ah'm tryin' t' say is that protectin' you is our choice t' make, and it's a choice most of us made the day we came t' Xavier's School. So let us help you, and don't worry so much. You'll most likely get a chance to pay us back some day."

"And this is supposed to comfort me?" Shea grumbled, but a grin worked its way onto her lips.

Paige returned it, her face losing its evangalistic glow and returning to that of a sixteen-year-old. "Guess not. Ah forget... *I* forget sometimes that not everyone's used to having a target painted on their backs."

"And you are?" Shea asked, eager to change the subject. She turned back to the salad and started cutting tomatoes.

Paige picked up her abandoned burger and put it on the grill, and started pulling rolls out of a plastic bag, apparently just as happy for a slightly new topic. "More than most of the others, except maybe Jubilee. My oldest brother, Sam, he was one of the New Mutants when they were first formed, years ago. He was deputy leader of X-Force and now he's an X-Man. For practically as long as I can remember, I wanted to be just like him. When Ms. Frost asked me to come to the MassAcad, I didn't even think about it, just joined up. It's what I've always wanted."

"You wanted this? To... how did the Professor put it... 'protect a world that hates and fears us'? This is your idea of a great career opportunity?" Shea's words were flippant; the question was anything but.

Paige took it as it was meant. "Sounds crazy, huh? But, near as I can tell, mutants only have two choices. We can choose our ground and stand it, or spend our whole lives running." She shrugged. "Guess what Sam and I picked."

Shea chuckled slightly, and Paige looked sideways at her. "What's so funny?"

"Nothing," Shea answered. "It's just... you and Chase have more in common than I thought."

Paige thought about that, then tilted her head in acknowledgment and started putting hamburger buns in the oven to toast. "How about putting on some music, give us something else to think about?"

That sounded like a great idea; Shea washed her hands quickly and dried them as she walked over to the CD played on the other wall. According to Angelo, the students had ganged up on Ms. Frost to get a TV in the kitchen, and bargained her down to the stereo. He claimed that had been the objective all along, but Shea hadn't decided yet whether to believe him.

She chose a Queen CD and slid it in, setting it to her favorite track. A minute later, 'Princes of the Universe' began shaking the walls.

"I love this song," Paige shouted over the music, her hips swaying to the heavy beat.

"Bet the Professor hates it," Shea shouted back. Returning to the counter, she dumped her vegetables into the salad bowl and started tossing. "The 'born to be kings' part has got to make him crazy."

"That and 'no man can be my equal'," Paige agreed. "Let me guess, he gave you one of the 'dream' speeches."

"How many are there?" The industrial-sized deep fryer was finally hot; Shea started lobbing frozen tater tots in from two feet away, which was inefficient, but entertaining, and required concentration. Grease splashed and hissed.

"Too many," Paige groaned theatrically. "I think I heard three or four when I was just hanging around the New Mutants and X-Force, and he gave another one the day this school officially opened. Plus, Beast and Cyclops each have their own version, and so does Mr. Cassidy."

"Oy vey."

"Yeah. The burgers are almost done, can you watch them while I go set the table?"

"Go for it."

Paige started to head for the dining room, then stopped. "Don't worry too much, Shea," she said, unexpectedly seriously. "You and Chase are our friends -- we're not going to let anything happen."

Shea nodded, and tried to smile. "Thanks, Paige," she answered, just as seriously. "I trust you."

"Good." With that, she disappeared into the dining room, and Shea went back to her tater tots. If only she could forget that Van Dyke and Monkey Boy were wandering around outside; or forget the icy, murderous look on Chase's face. Forget that he'd frozen her out again.

*****

Shea was still trying to forget hours later, as she lay in bed and stared up at the ceiling, but not even the noisy dinner and noisier evening in front of the TV, everyone alternately working on homework and arguing over the station, had been enough to distract her. Her mind was too busy worrying over the events of the day, shaking them up and laying them out in new and increasingly worse patterns.

She turned over again, accidentally shoving one of her pillows off the bed. Her room was bigger than she was used to, and emptier, with none of her familiar possessions around her; they'd all been left in Copper Lake when she and Chase had started their desperate ride.

Sighing, she tightened her hold on the teddy bear that had appeared on her pillow her first night in the new room. Paige said it belonged to Jubilee, and told her not to thank the girl for it; it would just embarrass her. But Shea was grateful for the loan. Even a strange teddy bear helped chase off some of the demons.

For just a tiny, split-second, homesickness threatened. She hadn't liked Copper Lake much even when she'd been living there, but life had been so much simpler when all she'd had to worry about was school, running, and avoiding Chase.

She blinked back a tear and snuggled the teddy bear closer, as a gentle tapping at the door headed off the spell of self-pity. Paige shoved the door open and put her head around the corner. "Ah though you'd still be up."

She came the rest of the way into the room and settled down on the window seat, pulling her fleece robe closer around her. Her blond hair gleamed in the moonlight. Shea tossed her sheets back, pulled a pair of sweatpants on under her T-shirt, and joined her.

"Too much to think about to sleep," she said, looking out over the grounds. She'd brought the teddy bear along without noticing, and rested her chin on the top of its head.

"Too much to worry about," Paige corrected her wisely. Shea made a face, but didn't deny it. "So, what is it now? The Bureau still? Chase? Ah know it can't be your grades, even if you did sleep through English today."

"Can I just go with all of the above?" Shea sighed and leaned her head sideways against the window. The glass was cold and slick under her cheek, and she saw Chase's equally cold face in front of her eyes again. "Men are more trouble than they're worth."

"Ah thought everyone knew that," Paige said with an exaggerated gesture involving rolling eyes and lifted hands. She sobered when all Shea could do was lift a corner of her mouth. "You and Chase havin' problems? Ah mean, besides the obvious?"

Shea shrugged. "I thought I had him figured out," she said after a long minute. "I thought he cared, you know? But ever since we got here, it's like... he's here, but he's not. And he's going out of his way to be a jerk. Then, today -- first he's kissing me, then he's trying to get away from me."

"Ah know all about that," Paige groaned in sympathy. "You should try gettin' close to Jono sometime. Ah swear, that boy just can't make up his mind. One second, he's ready t' get closer, the next second he's pushin' me as far away as he can."

Shea had heard the Jono saga already, in another one of these late-night talk sessions; she and Paige had gotten into the habit the night Shea had moved into the dorm, when the nightmares were so bad she couldn't sleep. Paige had kept her company through several long nights, sharing stories about her thousands of siblings and the history of the X-Men, listening to Shea's memories of her parents and grandmother, and gradually building on the tentative friendship that had started that day in the mall.

Shea echoed her friend's groan now. "I hear that; Chase is the exact same way."

Paige stared thoughtfully down at her robe, picking at balls of lint. "Shea... are you in love with Chase?"

It was one hell of a question. "I... don't know." She shrugged her shoulders uncomfortably. "God, until a month ago, my mission in life was to avoid him, he was such a pain in the neck. Now, I can't imagine life without him around. I *want* him around, always. So.... maybe I am. I don't know." She looked at Paige. "Are you in love with Jono?"

Paige echoed the uncomfortable shrug. "Ah... don't know."

Tense silence stretched between them, then Paige suddenly chuckled. "And aren't we a pair?"

The absurdity of the situation hit Shea at the same time. "Maybe we should just ditch both of them and seduce Ev and Angelo, huh?" she suggested lightly.

Paige looked thoughtful. Then their eyes met and they both dissolved into helpless giggles. "Maybe not," Shea admitted.

Paige got control of her laughter with an effort. "It's not a bad fall-back position, though. Mr. Cassidy's real big on fall-back positions."

"The question is, which one of us gets which of them?" Shea pointed out. They both considered, then said, "Ev's mine," in unison, which set them both off again.

Jubilee stuck her head around the door before they sobered. "The two o' ya fightin' over Ev, now? Don't you have, like, enough problems with guys? And can't ya do it earlier than midnight?"

"Not as much fun that way," Shea pointed out. "Pull up a floor, it's easier to eavesdrop if you're in the same room."

Jubilee came the rest of the way into the room and collapsed on the carpet next to the window seat in a boneless heap. She was wearing another one of her huge T-shirts and her legs and feet were bare. "So, is this, like, a female bonding thing or what?"

"Or what," Paige answered. "Maybe we ought to wake up Monet."

"No," Shea and Jubilee both objected. Shea shut her mouth hard; this parallel thought thing was getting just too scary. Jubilee grinned; if she'd been chewing gum, she'd have cracked it. "Gotta hate group think, huh?"

"Knock it off."

"Sorry."

Paige laughed at both of them. "How'd the math go, Lee? Did you finish the homework all right?"

Jubilee looked away. "Um, kinda. Could you... um... check it tomorrow mornin'?"

"I'll check it," Shea volunteered. "How come algebra gives you so much trouble? You're bright enough, even if you do goof off for most of class."

Jubilee shrugged and tucked her knees up under the bottom of her shirt, wrapping her arms around them. "I'm disnumeric -- it's a kinda learning disorder. I'm not so hot at reading numbers."

"Bummer." Shea sensed she should keep this casual. "Is Mr. Cassidy helping?"

"Yeah, 'course. Beastie Boy's a better teacher, but Sean does okay. Wolvie says I should just relax and give it time, and it'll come."

The younger girl's voice dropped a little as she mentioned Wolverine -- Shea had gotten the run-down on everyone's sensitive subject from Paige's, and knew that that was Jubilee's. She didn't quite have a handle on why Jubilee seemed so attached to someone who sounded perilously close to a psychopath, but what the hell. Everyone was entitled.

Still, there didn't really seem to be a good place to take the conversation, so she went back to staring out the window -- and sat bolt upright after a moment. "Paige, did you see that?"

"See what?" Paige twisted to follow Shea's stare.

The movement Shea had spotted out of the corner of her eyes returned, near the basket ball court between their dorm and the boys'. "That," she pointed it out. "Someone's moving around down there."

Paige's eyes narrowed. "A couple of someones. Pretty big, too..."

Jubilee had come up from the floor to crouch between them. "I see 'em -- they're sloppy. Amateurs. Wolvie would eat 'em for lunch."

"Amateurs." Paige and Shea's eyes met.

"They wouldn't," Shea half-stated, half-asked.

Paige considered, then nodded. "They might. Ah bet they are."

Jubilee's eyes flicked between them. "The guys? Raidin' us?"

"Gotta be." Shea rolled off the windowseat and fumbled in the still-dark room for her sneakers, pulling them on without bothering to undo the laces. Everyone was still tense and wired after the confrontation with the Bureau that afternoon; it would be just like Angelo -- or Chase, for that matter -- to decide to burn it off by pulling a panty raid. According to Copper Lake rumor, Chase had done just that more than once; the last one had nearly gotten him arrested when the chaperons at the YWCA lock-in party had called the cops.

Paige grinned in anticipation. "How about we give them a little surprise in return?"

"Dude!" Jubilee scrambled out of the room with Paige hot on her heels and Shea pulled a heavy sweatshirt over her head.

The other two met her back in the hall after only a few seconds, both attired in dark sweats and sneakers. Their practice uniforms, while bright, snazzy, and comfortable, were also highly impractical for sneaking around without being noticed.

"Ah'll take the back, Shea takes the front," Paige whispered as they headed down the stairs. "Jubilee, go around the left side an' flank 'em. Light the sky up on my signal."

"Got it," Jubilee snapped, saluting with what strongly resembled -- and probably was -- a SuperSoaker water rifle. On muffled giggles, they split up; Shea and Jubilee slipped out the front door and snuck across the porch, Shea snatching Jubilee's baseball bat from a corner as the younger girl crossed the porch quickly and disappeared around the side.

Under Shea's touch and powers, the heavy plastic of the bat changed to soft, spongy material, the better to bash an unsuspecting male attacker over the head with. She hugged the wall as she heard the noisy breath of the first 'attackers', and entertained herself trying to identify the guy by the breathing. Not Chase, not Ev, but possibly Angelo....

An arm came around the corner, holding a familiar shape -- *water pistol*, Shea's mind supplied, *J's Supersoaker has them out-gunned* -- followed by a head. From the back of the house, someone cut loose with a rebel cry and Shea echoed it, slamming her newly-created Nerf bat down on the extended arm. Her victim cursed, caught by surprise, and dropped the pistol; she grinned and jumped off the porch, twisting and slamming the bat into his head. Knocked off balance, he tripped backwards and fell.

Fireworks popped and exploded over the top of the house, lending surreal light to the scene. Jubilee shouted something, Paige cried out shrilly, Shea looked smugly down at her victim -- and saw Agent Jeffrey Garner, a.k.a. Monkey Boy, glaring up at her with hatred.

Something whined with a machine-like sound behind her and she whirled to find herself staring down one of Orphan Maker's guns. His armor had been repaired.

"This time," he said, without a crack in his voice, "I'm taking you to Nanny."

Chapter 12

"I've been up and down a busted ladder
It's broken and insane, but I am madder
I've been through the valley of the shadow of death
Got to the other side only to find another test"
-- Jr Gone Wild, 'Poet's Highway'

"What is this, the Fourth of July?" Chase yelled irritably as he pulled open the door to his bedroom. "What's with the damn fireworks?"

Ev was already at the top of the stairs, blinking sleepily and rubbing at his jaw. He was dressed only in boxer shorts, a robe slung crazily over his shoulders, inside out. "Sounds like Jubilee," he said through a yawn. "What's she up to?"

*Stop talkin' and start movin'* Jono's voice said in their heads, cold with urgency. *Someone's attackin' the gels!*

"Again? Oh, no way!" Ev protested. "Didn't we just do this?"

His objections didn't stop him from taking off down the stairs, Chase hot on his heels. Behind them, there was a crash and a stream of curses in mingled Spanish and English, and a door slammed open.

"Angelo's awake," Chase observed unnecessarily, taking the steps two at a time.

"The whole flipping campus should be awake! Angelo, get moving!" Ev hollered. With more curses, Angelo appeared from his room as the front door banged open under Chase and Ev's combined weight.

The grass was wet and cold, and Chase realized he hadn't taken time to put on shoes. He also hadn't taken time to put anything on over his shorts, but he didn't stop to think about that. Jubilee's lights were better than an arrow saying 'Fight Scene Here!'; as he and Ev pounded towards the girl's dorm, he saw Jono come tearing in from the biosphere.

"Everyone split up until we find the girls!" Ev shouted, taking charge.

"Good idea, we can get into more trouble that way!" Chase shouted back sarcastically. A dark shape suddenly lunged out of the shadows at him; he ducked instinctively and heard something go whistling over his head. Without pausing in his forward motion, he tackled his attacker, sending them both sprawling on the grass.

The black-clad man fought beneath his, driving an elbow into Chase's gut. Chase's lungs emptied of air in one agonizing rush, and the man tried to throw him off. Before he could, two hands came up from the ground and got him around the neck in a sleeper hold. He quietly passed out, the knife in his hand dropping to the grass.

*Breathe,* Chamber's voice said in Chase's head, as the rest of Mondo appeared from the ground and lifted Chase to a sitting position with one hand. Chase nodded and hupped as air flooded back into his lungs.

"Thanks," he said hoarsely, pushing himself to his feet. "Jono, it's the Bureau."

*Thanks for the tip.* Someone gasped in front of him, and Chase looked up. Chamber was standing a few feet away, confronting another Bureau guy, also dressed in black and armed to the teeth. But the Bureau guy was backing away; seeing how the flames in Chamber's chest were flaring and pulsing, Chase didn't blame him. The agent's nerve finally broke and he ran past Jono with a howl, straight towards the biosphere.

Chase pulled himself to his feet with only a little help from Mondo. "Should we go after him?" he asked hoarsely.

Even without a face, Chamber somehow smirked. *Nah.* At the same time, another muffled howl drifted towards them from the general direction of the biosphere. *Sounds like that plonker just ran inta one o' Artie's holograms; that or Penance. He'll be runnin' 'til dawn, if he didn't pass out.*

Chase grinned ferociously. "Then let's damn well take care of the rest of them!"

The other members of Generation X seemed to have basically the same idea. Skin and Husk, the latter shapeshifted to something solid and gray, were squared off against two agents on the grass between the two dorms. Skin blinded one by wrapping his arms around the man's face from three feet away, and Husk slammed a rock-hard (literally) punch against the man's temple. He dropped and the second raised a pistol at Husk's back.

"Watch it!" Chase warned with a shout. Husk hit the dirt and the agent turned, right into Chase's swinging elbow. Pain flared through his arm, but the agent joined his friend on the ground.

"Thanks!" Husk panted.

"Where's Shea?" Chase demanded.

"She's in front. We thought they were you guys!"

"Great, Paige! Just great!" Chase took off at a dead run towards the front of the dorm, as the fireworks on the side of the house cracked again. Synch caught up and they piled together into two of the agents who been ganging up on Jubilee. Her fireworks knocked over the third, then Synch's aura wrapped her and his blast blinded one of the two on the ground. Jubilee got another in the face with a... water gun? Chase decided he didn't want to know and ignored the whole thing, scrambling back to his feet and around the corner of the dorm--

-- And almost breaking his nose on Orphan Maker's armor. He skidded and fell trying to stop and Shea shouted a late warning. "Watch it, Chase!"

"Thanks a lot!" he shouted back, as the Orphan Maker bellowed something and tried to kick Chase. He rolled out of the way and to his feet, finding himself standing beside Shea. Orphan Maker flanked them on one side, Monkey Boy -- big shock -- was moving in on the other. Another agent Chase didn't recognize was coming around from the driveway.

"We've got a problem," Chase said judiciously, going back to back with Shea. They circled slowly, trying to watch all of their attackers at once. Shea was holding a suspiciously soft-looking baseball bat, with a wave of lighter color creeping up from the grip. It was halfway to the top now. Chase stalled. "You know, Monkey Boy, you really didn't have to go through all of this just to get a date with Shea."

"Yes, he did," Shea corrected him without taking her eyes off Orphan Maker

"He did? Come on, Shealee, I've heard of playing hard to get, but this is ridiculous."

Shea shrugged easily; the bat had almost completely changed color now, and looked solid. "A girl's gotta do...."

"Very funny," Monkey Boy said acidly. His eyes were flicking between his two targets and his gun, laying on the grass a few feet from him. "Orphan Maker, you see the kind of people we're dealing with here. This is what we're trying to take the girl away from."

Orphan Maker nodded ponderously. "This isn't a good place, not like it is with Nanny. I don't like it here."

"Orphan Maker, you're an idiot!" Shea exploded. "This is the best place! You're not helping me, you're letting the government get their slimy hands on me! Are you out of your mind?"

Orphan Maker shook his head. "Nanny knows what's best," he said with utter confidence. "You'll see."

"Absolutely," Garner agreed with a slimy smile. He sent a look past Chase and Shea at the agent behind them, and Chase braced himself to jump as Orphan Maker lifted an arm, newly-repaired with one of his laser guns.

From across campus came a high-pitched wail.

"Shealee?" Chase said calmly.

"Yeah?" She tightened her grip on the bat, her head cocked in a listening pose.

"Duck."

The distant wail built abruptly to a scream and they both hit the dirt as Monkey Boy shouted and Orphan Maker suddenly fired the laser. It blasted into the ground as Maker staggered under the physical impact of the noise, and Sean Cassidy dove down from the sky, clad in a yellow and green uniform. The force of his sonic scream actually knocked Orphan Maker back a few steps and clearly frightened the hell out of both Monkey Boy and his stooge.

Chase, slightly more prepared for Cassidy's attack than the intruders had been, still stayed on the ground, his head swimming dizzily under the assault to his inner ear. It didn't stop him from tackling Monkey Boy at the knees. Garner fell forward over Chase's back and Chase twisted to kick him in the stomach. The man grunted, but got a grip on Chase's wrists, and returned the kick, with an odd twist Chase couldn't counter in time.

The air whoofed out of his lungs for the second time in five minutes, and his head slammed back into the hard ground. The world went momentarily black, before fireworks worthy of Jubilee started popping soundlessly in front of his eyes.

A crack sounded a foot away from his ear, audible even over Cassidy's sonics. Garner went stiff, then collapsed forward. Chase fought against the deadweight on his struggling lungs; then it was lifted off, and he found himself staring up at Monet St. Croix, who was casually dangling Monkey Boy from one hand. Shea stood beside her, her baseball bat raised to strike again if necessary. He'd never seen her look so grim.

"What.. did you change.. that thing... into?" he huffed, his bruised and battered ribs protesting strenuously.

Shea's jaw was clenched, her eyes very serious. "A baseball bat."

Chase nodded, and let his head fall back to the grass. "Not bad." Then his eyes snapped back open. "Where's the other guy?"

"Currently, he is clinging to the top of the girl's dormitory, praying the repairs on the roof are current," M informed him, letting Garner drop back to the ground with a thud.

Footsteps pounded against the earth and Chamber, Husk, Skin and Mondo came tearing around the side of the building, looking slightly the worse for wear and prepared for battle. Jubilee and Synch, apparently having finished off their three, came around the other corner, shouting something incoherently. Chase looked dizzily up at the closer group, feeling no real inclination to get up.

Until Cassidy shouted from several feet away and he realized he'd forgotten all about the supervillain behind them. Cassidy forced Orphan Maker methodically backwards with the force of his sonic attack; Maker flailed blindly, trying to hit back, but Cassidy kept his distance, well out of range.

"Shouldn't we help him?" Husk asked, breathing hard.

"He seems to be doing pretty well on his own," Shea said with awed approval, her eyes wide.

Then the roar of a powerful engine ripped across the sky. A silver blur flashed overhead, lasers blasting in all directions; Cassidy had to abandon his assault on Orphan Maker to dodge Nanny's attack run. The backwash from the craft tore into all of them and Cassidy's sonic scream broke off as he slammed into the ground, much harder than he'd probably intended.

"Mr. Cassidy!" Husk yelled, then the entire herd of teenage mutants was running forward, Shea keeping pace with the rest.

"Shea, no!" Chase tried to shout, making it to his hands and knees before the dizziness was too much. He could only watch, helplessly.

M and Synch both took to the skies, facing Nanny's UFO as it turned and came back for another strafing run. Irresistible force met unmovable object with a mind-numbing crash, and M and Synch went flying into the side of the building, landing hard. But Nanny's ship didn't do any better, spinning out of control, smoke pouring from a hundred cracks and breaks until it crashed into the lawn near the trees.

"Nanny! No!" Orphan Maker howled in rage and took a swipe at Shea with one armored arm. But his aim was destroyed by the fireworks Jubilee set off in his face and Shea ducked the clumsy blow, slamming her bat, which was shifting colors again and now gleamed like steel, into his knees.

The blow rocked him without doing any damage and Shea cursed, then ducked his backswing, rolling out of the way. His flailing arm caught the bat, and sent it flying in Chase's direction, leaving Shea unarmed; but it had been enough distraction for Skin and Mondo to get to Cassidy, pulling him out of the way of the fight.

Their headmaster safe, Generation X got down to serious business.

"Plan alpha!" Chamber led them, lashing out with some kind of psionic attack that sent the flames of his chest spiraling even higher. Orphan Maker spun around in confusion, and slammed into Husk, who had shed her rock form for the dark nightmare Chase remembered from the mall. Her claws lashed out, gouging chunks from Maker's armor. He howled and struck back but she had already ducked away. His fist slammed into Mondo instead, who simply blinked at him.

"You shouldn't try to hurt my friends," the big Samoan said simply, before taking Maker's arms in a firm grip. His hands melded with Maker's armor and Maker howled, trying to pull away with no success.

Which made him a sitting duck when Monet and Everett, still shaky from their impact with the building, slammed into him from behind. Mondo released his hold as the duo lifted Maker off the ground and high into the air, ignoring his kicks and thrashing as they carried him to the fountain at the center of campus, and unceremoniously let him drop.

Water flooded into the damage Husk's claws had done, and Orphan Maker's armor shorted out in an impressive display of sparks, as the boy wailed helplessly, furiously, for his Nanny.

Chase's knees collapsed on him, and he fell face-down into the grass, barely avoiding the bat Shea had lost.

"Well done, children." It took a major effort, but Chase turned his head enough to see Cassidy sitting up with Husk and M's help. He looked dazed and groggy, but more or less uninjured. "Are all of ye all right?"

"Yes, sir," Synch said soberly, although he had a bloody lump rising on his forehead. "We're all here."

Cassidy looked around to confirm for himself. His eyes landed on Chase, taking in his sprawled and limp form with concern. "Lad, are ye hurt?"

Chase thought about it. His body didn't seem to want to respond to any commands and his head was swimming, but nothing outside of his ribs actually *hurt* or seemed to be bleeding. "Oh, I'm fine," he responded finally. "I'm just not going to try to get up for a while."

"That makes two of us, son," Cassidy half-laughed, half-moaned. "Where's Shea?"

"Ummm...." Now that was a damn good question, Chase realized dizzily. She'd disappeared some time between when she'd cracked Monkey Boy over the head, and when M and Synch had gotten into the act.

"If you're looking for little Miss O'Reilly," a cold, snide voice said before Chase could reply more coherently, "look no further.

Chase rolled over fast and instantly regretted it, as the fireworks in his head came back for an encore. Squinting through the colorful explosions, he saw his worst nightmare come to life.

Agent Van Dyke stood twenty feet away, one hand clamped painfully on Shea's arm, the other pressing a pistol into her side. "Isn't this interesting?" she continued casually, her dark eyes flashing with barely restrained fury. "Mr. Cassidy, I thought you said the fugitives weren't on the grounds of your school? How odd that we find them here. I'm sure the police and the Department of Education will fascinated to hear how well you aid and abet wanted runaways."

"Almost as fascinated as the Department of Justice will be by y'r midnight raid onto private property w' SWAT teams and a wanted team o' killers," Cassidy spit back, making it to his feet on the force of sheer fury.

Van Dyke just shrugged. "Extreme times call for extreme measures, and I think you're being a bit harsh on Poor Nanny and her 'precious boy'. She was just attempting to help the government apprehend a kidnaper and his mutant victim."

"And the money ye gave them didn't mean anything," Cassidy grated. "Sell me another one."

She smiled, cold and deadly, but otherwise seemed to ignore him. "I'll be leaving now, as soon as Mr. Matthews gets his feet under himself and joins us. He has a date with a jail cell. Too bad I can't take more of you children to safety with me -- I'm sure many of you could prove useful -- but I'll take what I can get. And I will be back."

"Over my dead body," Chase snarled. He was surprised to find himself on his feet -- he had no idea when or how he'd gotten there, and didn't particularly care. All his attention was focused on Van Dyke, and the defiant, terrified girl she was threatening.

Taking a step towards them, he sensed Chamber, Husk, Skin and Synch coming up on either side of him, and realized with an oddly distant part of his mind that Shea's bat was now clutched in his fist (which might explain how he'd gotten off the ground). He lifted it slightly, tightening his grip.

Van Dyke raised her eyebrows at him, unaffected. "Still the hero, Matthews? It's going to get you killed, even with your little friends to help you. Or, more likely, it'll get Miss O'Reilly here killed." She poked the pistol harder into Shea's ribs and Chase almost went for her throat right then.

*You won't hurt the gel.* Chase took vengeful satisfaction in seeing Van Dyke jerk and blink as Chamber's psionic voice echoed in her head. *Y've chased her f'r too long t' kill her now; y' need her. Nice bluff, but we're not buyin'.*

Chase grinned savagely, nodding towards Chamber. "What he said. You're not chasing a couple of kids on their own anymore, Van Dyke; we've got friends now." Husk and Synch nodded in grim agreement. Jubilee had joined them, Chase noticed, and her young face was set in determined lines. Cassidy stood behind her, his eyes hard, and Chase smiled again, utterly sure of his ground for the first time in his life.

"Let her go," he told Van Dyke levelly, "or you'll have *all* of us to deal with."

They faced off for a long, long moment. Then Van Dyke shook her head and started backing away, without releasing her grip on Shea. "No, I think the bluff that's going to be called is yours. We're leaving."

Something moved in the shadows behind Van Dyke, and he heard Husk's in-drawn breath. He nodded slightly, to tell the others he'd seen it, and let his eyes drift past Van Dyke, grinning maliciously. "Better not turn around," he warned her.

For all their training, even government agents are still human; naturally, she looked, and found herself face to face with something dark red and spiky, reaching clawed hands out towards her, its face lost in shadows.

Van Dyke shouted and loosened her grip on Shea, stumbling back in shock. Shea broke free, throwing herself to the side, and Chase lunged forward, the bat swinging out and down to crack into Van Dyke's arm. The momentum sent him to his knees; she screamed in pain, but somehow held onto the gun.

"Damn you," she hissed, tightening her grip on the gun. He saw it come up, saw the enraged light in her eyes as she aimed it at his head, and braced himself for the pain.

The gunshot echoed through the night and he jerked in reaction, then again when he realized he hadn't been hit. Then Shea was kneeling beside him, her arms wrapped around his neck and sobs shaking her body, and he looked up.

Penance crouched beside them, a piece of cloth that matched the brand-new, bloody tear in Van Dyke's sleeve caught in her claws. In front of them, two of the agents -- the ones he and Chamber and Mondo had fought together -- were holding Van Dyke, calmly squeezing her arms and wrists as she jerked and flailed away at them, screaming orders that they ignored.

"What the hell?" he breathed, even as his arms came up to hold Shea close, assuring himself she was still all right. "When did *they* change sides?"

"When I told them to." Emma Frost made her usual impressive entrance, strolling past Van Dyke and her captors as if she was walking into an expensive restaurant and expected the maitre d' to start fawning. "You may as well stop fighting it," she told Van Dyke coolly. "Your men are under my control, until I choose to release them."

Without waiting to see if Van Dyke followed her advice, she knelt next to Shea and Chase, ignoring what grass stains would do to her spotlessly white slacks. "Chase, were you hit?"

He gaped at her, then to the agent, who did look pretty blank, then back to her. "No," he finally forced out. "We're both fine."

She actually smiled. Astonishingly enough, it even seemed to be more or less sincere. "Good," she told him, quirking one eyebrow. "You did well."

Trust Ms. Frost to make even a compliment sound patronizing. "For a human?" he challenged, pushing Shea's hair away from his face and pulling her a little closer.

Ms. Frost didn't seem offended. "For anyone."

Cassidy interrupted before the conversation could deteriorate, for which Chase was grateful. "Well, and ye took y'r own good time showin' up, Emma!" he said loudly. "Where the devil've ye been?"

Ms. Frost looked at him coolly, rising back to her feet. "I was rounding up the agents who were attempting to get away, rather than allowing them to go whining back to their headquarters about just what is going on at Xavier's School. I thought that would be a Bad Thing, but maybe that's just me," she ended with sweet, icicle sarcasm.

Cassidy growled, but didn't respond. Shea abruptly shoved herself upright and hit Chase on the arm with all of her strength. "Hey!" he objected. "What'd you do that for?"

"You scared the hell out of me, you jerk!" she informed him, her amber eyes flashing sparks at him. "I thought she was going to shoot you! Don't ever do that again!" More punches punctuated her scold, until he caught her arms between them and wrapped her close again.

"Sorry, Shealee," he apologized humbly, although a laugh seemed to be trying to bubble up from his stomach. "I admit it, it was all my fault."

"Damn straight." Husk -- no, Paige, she'd gone back to normal form -- stood over them, not even trying to hide her relieved smile. Chase found himself grinning back up at her, then the rest of their friends were gathering around them, pulling them to their feet and into relieved hugs and backslaps, as Van Dyke watched with fury, and Cassidy and Ms. Frost watched with indulgent smiles.

Chapter 13

"you know if I leave you now
it doesn't mean that I love you any less
it's just the state I'm in
I can't be good to anyone else like this"
-- Sarah McLachlan, 'Wait'

"This sucks! We should be up there, too!"

"Shut up, Jubilee, we can't hear what they're saying."

"Excuse much! I'm just sayin' that--"

"Jubilee, shut up!"

Shea actually sympathized with Jubilee; she desperately wanted to be upstairs in that meeting. But Mr. Cassidy had gently but firmly told them to let the adults handle this last round.

"Y've done enough, the both of ye," he'd said, hugging Shea with relieved affection, and laying a proud hand on Chase's shoulder. "Y've all been brave and strong beyond anyone's wildest expectations. But, just for once, let us be takin' care of you."

Phrased like that, they hadn't really had much of a choice. So, three hours later, Generation X was once again clustered in the war room, eavesdropping on a conversation between the Bureau of Mutant Affairs and their headmasters. This time, however, there were a few additional participants.

Jennifer Walters, for instance, who was stalking up and down in front of Cassidy's desk in an aura of righteous indignation as she recited, chapter and verse, every law, constitutional amendment, and government regulation that Van Dyke and her goon squad had violated when they broke into a private school at night, with weapons and without a proper warrant, and exactly how many ways the MassAcad was prepared to sue the Bureau for said violations.

Listening and nodding patiently, understandingly and consolingly, was a man of medium height, with graying brown hair and piercing, pale blue eyes. Special Agent Peterson of the Bureau of Mutant Affairs was not a happy man, and made no attempt to keep his displeasure to himself. In between agreeing with Jennifer, he shot killer glares at a subdued Garner and a still-infuriated Agent Van Dyke, bound with their own cuffs to chairs in the corner.

Only five people listening to the one-sided conversation knew for sure just how much of an act was being put on, although several of the others certainly suspected.

Two of the ones who were sure sat together at the table beneath the main viewscreen, watching with enjoyment as Jennifer put Van Dyke through the wringer. "I think Peterson is having a little too much fun," Shea observed happily.

Chase, sprawled out in the chair next to her, chuckled without moving. "How can you tell?" he pointed out. "I've never seen him smile."

"Ah was just thinkin' he looks real pissed off," Paige contributed from Shea's other side, too tired to care about her accent. "Ah sure wouldn't want t' be in Van Dyke's shoes."

Shea and Chase exchanged looks, but didn't otherwise comment. The fewer people who knew that Peterson, Van Dyke's superior in the Bureau, was actually part of Charles Xavier's mutant underground and a mutant himself, the better. They'd only found out after he'd helped them escape for the second or third time.

"I just hope Ms. Frost had them tighten those handcuffs real well," Chase shrugged, wincing as the motion pulled at his ribs. They were wrapped, and would be until there was time for a long session on the Shi'ar biobed to heal the various cracks and bruises.

Shea rubbed her wrists in remembrance. "Amen to that. And I hope her bruises hurt as bad as ours did."

*No hostility in here,* Jono observed facetiously, although how he could be facetious psionically was anyone's guess.

"No, none at all," Chase agreed breezily. Shea laughed and started to hit him, remembered his ribs, and settling for ruffling his dark hair a la Jennifer. For once, he didn't object.

"Aren't we supposed t' be bein' quiet?" Jubilee observed nastily from the chair where she'd been sulking. Ev, not constrained by anyone's injuries, swatted her lightly on the back of the head.

"Then be quiet already," he told her with a half-grin. She stuck her tongue out at him, but sat up straighter and paid attention.

Jennifer was finally winding down -- it had taken a while, but she'd had a lot of impotent anger to burn off, after she'd heard about the assault on the school and, more specifically, on Shea and Chase. With a few last threats, she threw herself down into the chair behind Mr. Cassidy's desk and crossed her arms, glaring at Peterson and Van Dyke over the top of it.

Peterson shook his head slowly. "I can't tell you how sorry I am for the misguided and dangerous actions of my colleague," he said regretfully, leaning forward in his chair and meeting Mr. Cassidy's eyes. The headmaster was leaning against the front of his chest, Ms. Frost standing beside him and glaring daggers at anyone who happened to get in front of her. "I assure you, the Bureau will be dealing quite severely with her."

"Goddammit, I didn't--!"

"Quiet!" Peterson's controlled shout and less controlled look cut Van Dyke off before she could get three words out. She snarled, but Ms. Frost's eyes suddenly focused on her; under the combined force of the glares, she shut up.

"All right, Peterson!" Angelo cheered softly. "I could get to like that dude."

"As I was saying," Peterson continued, returning his eyes to Mr. Cassidy, "the Bureau will, of course, make reparations for this gross misconduct. I only hope we can reach an amicable agreement."

Mr. Cassidy nodded thoughtfully, but it was Ms. Frost who answered. "How's this for amicable?" she asked icily. "The Bureau will pay for all damages incurred to the grounds of the Massachusetts Academy, and sign a legal agreement never to set foot on said grounds again. In addition, you will drop all charges against those poor children you've chasing from one end of this country to the other. Ms. Walters has told us everything, and I will not tolerate the further endangerment of *any* children should any of your agents become delusional again."

"What?" If she hadn't been handcuffed, Van Dyke would have gone for Ms. Frost's throat. "Dammit, those kids are here, along with half the mutants on this planet. You can't let them get away with hiding here, not after what we've found here! We've got proof!"

Peterson half rose, presumably to forcibly silence the other agent, but Ms. Frost held up a regal, restraining hand. Peterson paused, then gave a dignified nod in her direction and resumed his seat. Ms. Frost left the desk to stroll over to Van Dyke; Mr. Cassidy just leaned back a little farther against the desk.

"That's right, Irish, let Frosty do the lying," Jubilee cracked, getting over her sulk. "She's better at it than you are, anyway." The others laughed quietly, but no one took their eyes off the screen.

"And just what proof do you have of these paranoid allegations?" Ms. Frost was asking. If physics had allowed, every word would have drawn blood. "Your own men say that no one saw Miss... O'Reilly, was it?... here. Not do they remember anything about being attacked by a 'vicious group of mutants', as you put it."

"That's because you brainwashed them!" Van Dyke said through gritted teeth. "Tell them, Garner. Tell them about those little monsters, tell them what happened, what they did to us!" She lifted her heavily-bandaged arm for emphasis; what Chase had started with the bat, Penance had finished with her claws.

Monkey Boy flinched, as if startled to be addressed, then sank deeper into his chair. "I don't remember anything like that." He lifted his eyes, gazing pleadingly at Peterson. "I'm sorry, sir. We were way out of line, and those security guards the school hired had every right to take us down. It won't happen again."

"Goddammit, Garner--!" Van Dyke started to explode.

Peterson talked right over her, as if she didn't exist. "You're right, Garner, it won't happen again. I'll be placing your actions before the review board -- and the psychiatric section -- first thing in the morning. If you're lucky, all you'll lose is your job." He looked back at Ms. Frost. "We'll agree to the first two conditions, certainly, but... the charges? Miss O'Reilly is still either a runaway or being held against her will by Matthews. Either way, we must locate them, for her own good."

"What's he doing?" Shea hissed in disbelief. "He was supposed to go along with that!'

"Chill," Chase told her, although his eyes had narrowed. "He can't go too easily, or Van Dyke will know it's a set-up for sure."

"Like she doesn't now?" Shea muttered.

"A set-up?" Paige asked quietly and pointedly. Shea winced, threw her friend an 'I'll explain later' look and shut the hell up.

Sure enough, Jennifer was on her feet. "Miss O'Reilly went with Mr. Matthews of her own free will, to escape from *your* attempted kidnapping," she informed Peterson. "When the charges are dropped, we will be filing documents to have Miss O'Reilly declared an emancipated minor, or at the very least, give her a guardian of our choosing, since the State of Oregon has proven itself to be completely unable to adequately protect her."

She stopped in front of Peterson, glaring down at him impressively. "Of course, at that time, both Mr. Matthews and Miss O'Reilly or her guardian will also be filing suit against the Bureau for wrongful prosecution, harassment, and attempted kidnapping, not to mention attempted murder, since one of your people actually shot at Miss O'Reilly at Stapleton Airport, showing flagrant disregard for the safety you claim to be so concerned with."

"They did?" Chase asked happily. "I mean, we are?"

Shea shrugged, fighting against gleeful laughter. Van Dyke looked as if she'd swallowed a frog, and even Peterson, who was in on the game, looked faintly green. Jennifer was really on a roll. "She's our lawyer, I guess we are."

Peterson stuttered and stammered for a moment, then regained control, adjusting his tie with finicky motions. "I see your point, Ms. Walters. I will take the matter up with my superiors, who, I believe, have some influence over the law enforcement officials. You'll be hearing from me tomorrow."

"I hope so," Jennifer smiled with a lot of teeth. It was not at all reassuring.

"He does stuffy very well," Shea commented.

"She does intimidating really well," Paige added, with an edge of hero worship in her voice.

Ms. Frost was looking over at Van Dyke now, with a very superior smile on her face. "Do you have anything to add, Agent Van Dyke?"

Van Dyke simply stared back at Ms Frost, her jaw clenched so hard, Shea could almost hear her teeth grinding. "This isn't over," she told Ms. Frost with cold, quiet certainty, expanding her look to cover Peterson, Mr. Cassidy and Jennifer as well. Peterson looked offended and Jennifer looked smug.

Mr. Cassidy just looked tired. "Yes, it is over." He spoke for the first time, in a tone that left no room for argument, and calmly threatened all kinds of hell if he was proved to be wrong. "Come near my children again, and y' will be payin' the price. By all that's holy, I promise y' that."

Shea felt unexpected tears prickling at her eyes. Mr. Cassidy hadn't been happy with a large part of this plan, particularly the part which called for wiping and rearranging the memories of Garner and the other agents who'd attacked the school. But he'd gone along with it, for Shea and Chase's sake, she knew. And she knew how much that meant.

Beside her, Chase coughed and bowed his head to hide his own eyes. Paige smiled and took Shea's hand in a strong grip. "Told you so," she whispered, and Shea started laughing.

*****

"To the newest official student at Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters, and her equally official guardian!" Mr. Cassidy made the toast, but it was echoed by everyone in the room, glasses of soda and champagne raised high.

Shea, snuggled under Chase's arm and next to Jennifer, downed a gulp of her soda. "Can I call you Mommy?" she asked Jennifer with a cheeky grin.

"Absolutely," Jennifer answered, rumpling Shea's hair before she could get out of the way. "As long as I can tell you to do your homework and turn out the lights."

Shea considered the deal. "Okay. Mommy, can I borrow the car?"

"Don't push it, kiddo." Jennifer's stern tone lost its impact as she pulled Shea into a bear hug against her side. Shea returned the hug, resting her head against her new guardian's shoulder contentedly.

It had taken five days, but everything was finally settled. Monet's latest foray into the Bureau's computers showed that Van Dyke had been suspended for two months pending psychiatric evaluation, based on her 'paranoid' insistence that she'd been attacked by mutants no else had seen. It was petty revenge, but Van Dyke had a natural psi-block the size of Gibraltar. Getting her declared mentally suspect had been the best Ms. Frost and Peterson had been able to do.

The Orphan Maker and Nanny, both battered but still functional, had been turned over to X-Factor. Their leader, Havoc, apparently held a long-standing grudge against Nanny and had been more than willing to take responsibility for locking the both of them away. At least *something* in the government was still working right.

Meanwhile, the Bureau of Mutant Affairs, abiding by Peterson's agreement and Jennifer's threats, had quietly gotten all of the charges against both Shea and Chase dropped. Jennifer had instantly filed for legal guardianship of Shea and, after a few more threats towards Oregon Social Services and some shameless string pulling on Jennifer and Ms. Frost's parts, the paperwork had gone through with amazing speed. And just for a guarantee, a copy of the Bureau database was now resting in the school's mainframe, suitable for blackmail purposes.

Unless someone was feeling suicidal enough to challenge She-Hulk for custody, Shea was safe at last.

Which was why the entire student body of the Massachusetts Academy, and not a few of the X-Men, were currently gathered in the ballroom, celebrating. Jubilee had gone yelping across the room to brag to her old teammates, Shea had been introduced to the X-men who had attempted to pick her and Chase up at Stapleton Airport what seemed like years before, and Professor Xavier had been chewed out up one side and down the other (quietly, of course) for not letting Jennifer in on his connections with the Bureau back when it might have done some good.

It had been highly educational watching the Professor sit quietly and nod meek agreement as Jennifer yelled at him; Shea grinned at the memory.

"Chase, Shulkie, may I steal Shea from your care for a moment?" Dr. McCoy asked as he came up from behind her, a wide smile splitting his furry blue face. "Paige is attempting to murder her elder brother, and I feel the intervention of a neutral third party is in order."

Shea grinned at him and squeezed Chase's waist. "Come on," she told him. "I want to meet the infamous Cannonball, anyway."

He smiling down at her. It didn't reach his eyes, and she tried not to show how much that bothered her. "You go on, Shealee," he told her. "I've got some thing to do."

"Like what? This is a party."

"I know. Go on, talk to Cannonball." He shoved her away a little and she bit her lip, then trailed after Hank towards the tall, blond young man arguing heatedly with Paige, looking back over her shoulder at him once. He was talking seriously to Jennifer, and a cold knot started in her stomach.

******

She wasn't really surprised when Chase didn't show up at dinner, held early enough that the little kids could join the party. They'd earned it -- Artie's hologram of a 10-foot tall bogeyman the night of the attack had literally floored the agent who'd run for the biosphere. Then he and Leech had sat on the 'bad man' until Ms Frost had come to take him away.

Shea had already hugged both boys and taken them for the promised motorcycle rides. Now, she ate quickly, responded to what by-play and teasing she couldn't get out of, then escaped as soon as she could. Somehow, she knew where she'd find Chase.

The knot in her stomach got bigger and colder.

She was right. He was outside the main house, crouching next to the motorcycle and adjusting the straps that held a heavy duffel bag on. He didn't hear her come up until she said, quietly, "You missed dinner."

He froze and his shoulders tightened. Then he slowly stood. "Yeah, I know. What was it?"

"Pot roast."

"I love pot roast."

"Well, you missed it." Neither of them was particularly fooled by the banal conversation; Shea just didn't know what else to say. So she settled for being direct.

"Chase, why are you leaving?" she asked point blank, facing him. "You've been ghosting around for two days, ever since Dr. McCoy let you out of the infirmary. The Bureau's off our butts, we've got no restrictions on leaving campus, you haven't even argued with Ms Frost lately. So why are you doing this? Without even saying good-bye!"

Chase took a long time to answer, running his hands over the seat of the Harley; when he finally spoke, it didn't seem like he'd even heard the question. "Back in Copper Lake, did you ever go out by the lake and put pennies on the rails, and wait for the trains to come?"

Shea blinked. "Of course, I did; so did everyone. What does that...?"

"And," he continued over her impatient words, "you'd wait around for the train to come by, then go get the pennies off the track, and they'd be these flat, round things that you couldn't even recognize as a penny anymore."

"What are you getting at?" she asked, her voice tight and unhappy even to her own ears.

Chase sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. "Shea, I feel like one of those pennies. I'm stuck on this train track and any second now, I'm going to get flattened. No, just listen," he said when she tried to interrupt again. "You're safe here. You'll fit in here, a lot better than either of us ever did back home.

"But me...." He looked away, staring out over the driveway to the road. "Shealee, this isn't going to work. I've been out of high school a long time; I don't need teachers or guardians, and I'm damned if I'm going to go back to being a handyman, or a mechanic, just to have something to do. I don't fit here, Shea, any more than I fit back in Copper Lake. If I stay, I'm just going to trap myself again -- get run over or fall between the rails. Either way, I'm stuck."

"You haven't even tried to fit in! Mr. Cassidy...." she started.

Chase didn't let her finish. "Mr. Cassidy's great, and he's going to take good care of you. And right now, there's nothing I can do for you that he can't." His fist slammed down on the gas tank. "Christ, I almost got both of us killed last night! I'm not a mutant, I'm not a fighter, and I don't belong here."

Shea took a deep, steadying breath. "Then I'll come with you."

He shook his head and started to laugh, a wry, painful-sounding laugh. "No, you won't. You belong here, not out there with me. Ms. Frost and Mr. Cassidy, and Jen and the Professor -- they'll protect you until you're old enough to take care of yourself. You've got friends here already, you're part of the team. All I can do is screw up your life."

She turned away, wrapping her arms around her waist. "So you've made all the decisions, huh? I don't get any say in this?"

"No, Shealee." His voice was gentle, but firm, and she knew he'd made up his mind.

"You said you wouldn't leave me." It was a desperate plea, her last chance.

And it failed. He took her shoulders, turning her to look at him. "You know I'm right, Shealee. You know I can't stay here, and you know you can't come."

She refused to meet his eyes, clenching her jaw. She wouldn't cry in front of him.

Chase breathed out heavily and raked a hand through his hair, before reaching into his pocket. "I was going to leave this with Jen for you, to make it easier on both of us, but...." Something cool and heavy settled over her hair and around her neck; involuntarily, she reached up and touched the chain as it fell past her collarbone, the pendant touching the middle of her chest. She picked it up and studied it -- a small gold Harley Davidson emblem.

"So you don't forget," he said quietly.

"You got this in Boston?" She ran her fingers along the cool surface. "You knew you were leaving even then."

"Hoped I was." Her head swung up to stare at him with wide, hurt eyes, then she tore them away. He winced, catching her cheek in his hand and forcing her to meet his eyes. "No, Shealee, I didn't mean that. I just... I'd hoped this would be a safe enough place that I could leave you here, without worrying. That they'd take care of you." His voice turned deadly serious. "If I wasn't sure of that, swear to God, I'd put you on the back of the bike now, and drive so far away they'd never find us."

His eyes had never lied to her -- Shea saw the truth in them now, and the resolve. His arms came around her, pulling her close against him and she dropped the pendant to clutch desperately at his waist, surrendering all pride for one last breath of the leather and motor oil that always seemed to surround him.

"You'll come back?" she whispered against his jacket.

Chase laughed quietly against her head, his breath stirring her hair. "Yeah, Shealee. I'll be back."

She tilted her face up towards his; his eyes smiled down at her with a suspicious sheen of their own. "Promise?"

His hand came up, toying with a strand of her hair, running a finger down her cheek. "I promise." He bent over, not very far, and found her lips with his own. She clung to him, letting her kiss say the good-bye she refused to put into words.

Long moments later, he gently pulled away. Laying a second, whisper-soft kiss against her forehead, he walked down the porch stairs to his motorcycle. He straddled the bike, picked up his helmet, then turned towards her. His grin flashed briefly in the dying sunlight. "Stay out of trouble, Sundance."

She forced herself to smile, wrapping her arms against one of the tall pillars and pressing her cheek to the cool marble. "You, too, Butch."

Chase nodded, then pulled the helmet over his head. A moment later, he was roaring down the driveway, and out the gate onto the road.

He never looked back.

Shea watched him go, clinging to the pillar long after the sound of his motorcycle faded down the road. Twilight faded towards night, and still she stood there, lost in misery and the first true fear she'd felt since a man in a dark suit had told her she had no secrets left.

Chase was gone, and she was alone.

"Shea?" Sean Cassidy came through the door behind her, walking quietly. "Lass... we've been lookin' for ye."

She didn't answer, just stared ahead, dry-eyed. Mr. Cassidy sighed softly, almost soundlessly, and crossed the porch to her, laying a hand on her shoulder. "He's gone, then?"

She nodded, biting her lip hard enough to draw blood. The pain distracted her from the rough hand squeezing her heart.

"Ye know he didnae leave lightly," Mr. Cassidy said softly. "I've never seen a man as devoted t' anyone as Chase Matthews is t' you."

"I know." She had to force the words past the lump in her throat. "I know he cares about me. But it wasn't enough to keep him here."

"Ye've found y'r place, Shea.... At least, I hope ye have. Ye have t' give him a chance t' find his."

"I know." One hand crept up to finger the heavy chain he'd placed around her neck. She clutched the pendant desperately as the first tears rolled down her cheeks. "But I love him."

Mr. Cassidy's arms came around her, one of his big hands cradling her head, the other rubbing her back; after a moment, she gave in, leaning against him and letting the sobs come. "I know, lass," he said quietly, tightening the embrace. "That's why ye have t' let him go."

They stood that way until the first stars came out in the skies over the Massachusetts Academy, and Paige came out to find them.

Fin

Looking back at this sequel to Hazard, I'm not entirely thrilled with it (the plotting needed work, oh yes), but I'm also not ashamed of it. It's probably the closest thing to action-packed I've ever written, and I did a pretty good job of it. And I know, the ending sucks, but I couldn't figure any other way things could go. I've had the sequel plotted in my head for more than five years, but before I could write it, Ilost interest in the fandom. Maybe it'll get written someday; until then, be assured that Shea and Chase are living more or less happily ever after in their universe, still bickering almost continually with each other and taking on all comers.