X-MEN
ETERNITY
THE CROSSROADS
by
R. John Burke
(Note: X-Men is a copyright of Marvel comics. Just
fan fiction, no infringement intended.)
***************
FOUR: CROSSING PATHS
Nowhere
Wanda Maximoff assumed she was in Hell. She didn't mind much. It seemed like the proper place for her.
She found herself on a long, winding road, surrounded by doorways and portals, a million doorways stretching as far as the eye could see. She couldn't quite remember how she'd got here or even where she'd come from, but she had the idea that she was searching for something. Searching eternally, perhaps, like a ghost in some old story. This was certainly a good place to search eternally.
She followed the road until she came to a sort of convergence at the center. There was a signpost, tall and thick with what looked like... arms pointing in every direction. Some of them looked like human arms and others decidedly did *not* appear human. Wanda thought she might have recognized one or two of the latter from another life that was lost to her, a time when she'd walked with giants. Seen and done wonders, been... more than she was now. So very long ago...
Wanda shook her head, but it wouldn't clear. She'd been lost for a long time. Something-- a shadow-- had misled her, and she'd run further and further from who she was, what she really believed...
Until she was here. Which was nowhere. Very fitting.
"Oh, it's not nowhere," said a pleasant voice. Wanda whirled--
A woman, or perhaps a girl, stood with her. *Very* pleasant, dressed all in shimmering white, with eyes the same color and blonde hair in a gentle curl. She looked familiar. Wanda couldn't remember.
"Do we... know each other?"
"Oh, who cares what you knew before?" the girl said. "You're in the Crossroads now. You know, the place where Dr. Strange exiled the Hulk that time."
"I... I know those people," Wanda said. "I think."
"Of *course* you do, Wanda! You're quite the celebrity. You're the girl who cracked the Universe in half. Only now you've fallen through one of your own cracks, to the center of the Multiverse. I know it's all confusing, but I'm going to help you sort it out. You can trust me. You *do* trust me, don't you?"
"Well, it... depends. What was your name, again?"
"Esme, darling." The girl took her by the elbow and guided her down one of the meandering paths. "I'm a sort of... angel, you might say. Your guide. Oh, Wanda, we're going to get along famously, you and I..."
****
"You IDIOT! You MORON! You complete freaking BRAINLESS SPAZ!"
"Now see here, darlin'..."
"I'M NOT FINISHED! What were you THINKING?! Do you think AT ALL?! Or do you just use that lumpy head to hold up your STUPID HAIRDO?!"
The mutant hero Wolverine had faced down assassins, alien monsters, and entire armies, but none that were half as intimidating as the look on the face of this small Chinese-American girl standing over his bed. It was all he could do to maintain a bemused expression and stutter an occasional syllable while Jubilation Lee shouted into his face from a distance of two inches, so angry that her fireworks popped and sizzled in the air around them.
Behind her, Hank McCoy cleared his threat. "Excuse me, Jubilee... not to say I disagree, but you could you suspend this conversation for a few minutes? We haven't, technically, saved his life yet."
"Sorry. Good. You should do that." Jubilee stepped back, allowing Hank access to the bedside. "So I can KILL HIM AGAIN!"
Logan grunted. His heart actually had stopped for a moment there, but it wasn't like that had never happened before. Normally he'd have credited his own healing factor, but that was shot to hell from his recent adventures, so he assumed he owed his continued survival to the presence of Josh Foley, whose laying-on-of-hands treatment had come just in time. Combined with state of the art medical technology and the efforts of Hank, Cecilia Reyes, and Annie Ghazikhanian, it meant that, just possibly, he might survive his latest bout with heroic idiocy.
But if Jubilation Lee had anything to say about it, his eardrums wouldn't escape unscathed.
Cecilia frowned at Hank. "What do you think?"
"I'm not concerned about the physical damage-- his healing factor will return and clear that up, no doubt-- but there's some neurological degradation here that--"
"Speak English, bub," Logan growled. "You sayin' I'm brain-damaged?"
The Beast arched an eyebrow. "You'd have to have a brain to damage. What I am saying, Logan, is there's no way of telling how your severely traumatized mind will react to the additional stress you've placed upon it. I wouldn't be surprised by anything from an aneurysm to a psychotic break--"
"What additional stress?" Jubilee asked.
Hank studied his data. "If I had to guess, I'd say telepathic reinforcement. Someone spiked his endorphins and turned off his pain receptors, enabling him to fight on literal force of will for a time."
"Telepathic-- Emma!" Jubilee's eyes blazed. "I'm gonna kill HER next! I'll paff her butt to the MOON for this!"
"Emma did what I asked her to do (* in X-Force #6)," Logan said. "I had a job. I did it. That's what I do. Pick up the pieces later."
"You're gonna be pickin' your pieces off the-- do you have any IDEA how worried I was? And now I find out you were letting Frost slip you telepathic uppers?! I hate you right now, Wolvie! I swear I do!"
Hank cleared his throat. "He may be fine, Jubilation. We all know how... resilient Logan is. Until I've run some further tests, there's little use in getting upset..."
"Oh, this freakazoid hasn't SEEN upset yet! We're still cruisin' on 'mildly perturbed.' Upset comes later, when I've had time to absorb how completely 404 he is!"
"404?" Cecilia asked.
"Clueless," Hank said. "As in '404 Error-- Document Not Found.' It's Internet slang."
"Wow. You're quite the hep cat, aren't you, Doctor?"
"I try to keep up with the kids today. And remember, I've just been 25 years into the future. Jubilee's slang is actually somewhat... quaint."
"Bite me," Jubes said, an equally antiquated expression which nonetheless got the point across. Hank and Cecilia decided to go check on Colossus-- who hadn't come home in such wonderful shape himself-- and let the squabbling partners have a moment alone.
"What do you think of the shave, incidentally?" Hank asked on the way out.
"Oh." Cecilia wrinkled her nose. "I kinda liked you fuzzy."
"I can't win..."
Jubilee continued to glare at Logan for a long moment, while he tried to keep a poker-face. Finally he sighed. "Guess you're pretty angry."
"You are SO in the doghouse. Forever. Straight-up FOREVER."
"Yeah, I getcha. No hug for the ol' Canucklehead, then?"
"I... crap." Jubilee ran to him and wrapped her arms around his hairy chest. "Don't do that to me again. I missed you *so much*..."
"Yeah, darlin'. I missed you, too."
They remained like that for a long moment. Then Logan scented the air. SNIKT!
Jubilee backed away, wondering what he was looking at. She almost stepped right into Victor Creed, who stood growling a meter from the bed.
"You survived," Sabretooth said. "Damn."
"Thought you'd be happy, Creed. Didn't you want to do the honors?"
"You're no challenge in that condition, runt."
Jubilee turned on him. "You're gonna get a challenge if you don't back off!"
He shoved her aside. "Stay outta this, girl, this is between me an'--"
The whole Infirmary flashed bright as Jubilee focused all the energy she'd channeled since seeing Logan's condition into a single burst and--
PAFF!!!
Logan watched Sabretooth fly into-- and through-- the Infirmary door, then turned wide eyes on his protégé. "Huh."
"I've been practicing," she told him. "An' I didn't feel like saying 'back off' twice."
****
--CRASH!!!
Jean Grey, Bobby Drake, and Lorna Dane looked on in amazement as Victor Creed smashed through the Infirmary door and slammed headlong into the wall outside. They shook their heads.
"I take it he's feeling better?" Bobby asked.
Sabretooth stared down at the burned spot on his chest-- already healing-- and started to laugh. "Runt's gonna live. *Kid's* in a mood. Knew I shoulda killed her."
"JUBILEE did that?" Lorna asked.
The Iceman laughed. "Well, all right!"
The girl herself stepped out a moment later and turned to Jean. "He wants to see you. Remind him from me he's an idiot, 'kay?"
"I'll do that."
Jubilee glared at Sabretooth, slipped on her shades, and walked away, while he laughed even harder. Violence made Victor Creed happy, even when he was its target. At least, that what was Bobby had just about decided when Lorna nudged him.
"Can we talk?"
"Sure... let's, uh, step away from the serial killer..."
They stepped into the adjacent room, where Lorna didn't waste any time letting the other shoe drop. Bobby had almost been expecting it; he had a feeling he'd have done the same thing if she hadn't. He had to admit she hadn't been the first person in his thoughts lately...
"...the bottom line," she said, "is that I just shouldn't be involved right now. I... you know all the things I've been dealing with. Well, it didn't get much better where I was. It isn't fair to you."
"Yeah," Bobby said. Understanding or not, he couldn't resist: "You're sure it has nothing to do with the two months you just spent alone with Alex?"
"Bobby, nothing happened."
"Did you want it to?"
"Maybe." She sighed. "Alex and I used to fit in a way you and I never have... come on. You know that, right? I... eventually, I might like to try again. But first, I have to get my head on straight."
He nodded. "When that happens... I mean, when you're ready... you won't mind if I give Alex a little friendly competition? For old times' sake?"
"I'd be disappointed if you didn't." She smiled and hugged him.
Then came the POW! From the outside corridor. The two shared a look, and Bobby said:
"Ten bucks says Jubes came back to kick his ass."
"You're on," said Lorna, and they ran to see.
****
Sabretooth was still waiting for his torso to heal when a shadow-- rather a shapely one-- fell over him.
"I *thought* I recognized your door ripped off its hinges," Mystique said. "They do need better locks around here."
The assassin grunted. "So you decided to play mommy an' track me down?"
"Not at all. And I'm not going to free the others and break out, if that was your next thought."
Sabretooth staggered to his feet with a groan. "Like that bunch'a yahoos could escape from a paper bag. Relax, Raven. I ain't gonna bust up your alliance. I was just sayin' hello."
"Oh? Convinced of your heroic future?"
"Hell, no. But the Slayer's crap plan cost me an arm--"
"--and a daughter?" Mystique suggested.
"I want my own back," he said, and walked away.
He'd only been gone a moment when Mystique turned and-- WHAM! Got knocked into the wall by a large, snarling form. A werewolf, in fact, with fangs worse than Sabretooth's and hot breath not an inch from her throat.
"Good evening, Miss Sinclair," she said. "Can I do something for you?"
"Ye can beg me not to kill ye-- an' then ye can die anyway. That's what'll please me, ye cow."
"I must say, there's not a lot in that deal for me."
"Muir Island," Rahne growled, fangs dripping right onto Mystique's face. "Moira MacTaggart. Tell me ye dinnae remember an' I'll take yer throat right now. Yer a murderess, Mystique."
"We're all just 'murderers' now. If you want to insult me, you'll have to do better than sex discrimination." Mystique shrugged. "My line of work isn't so bad. Some people aren't worth anything alive."
Rahne howled. Mystique had thought to use that moment of lost control, but the wolf was back at her throat before she could move.
"Yuir about t' wish ye'd chosen yuir last words more carefully."
Jaws flashed, but as they descended, Mystique clouted her attacker solidly in the snout with both fists, stunning her, then got her legs between them and *kicked*-- Rahne flew across the corridor and hit the wall. Mystique scrambled to her feet, reaching into her holster for something to put the sad, scruffy beast out of her misery.
A strong hand fell on her arm. Mystique looked up: Sam Guthrie, Cannonball, stood between her and Wolfsbane. His face was implacable, but his eyes cold when he said:
"Touch that trigger an' I'm gonna blast through that wall over there, an' take you along. I'll have fun, Raven, you won't."
Mystique glared at him, but the blasted hick looked embarrassingly earnest. She dropped her hand.
"Keep your dog on a leash," she snarled. A little way down the corridor, skidding to a halt in the doorway, she saw Iceman and Polaris-- the people she'd sought in coming down here. "What are you looking at? We have business. Cyclops and I are in agreement on our next move..."
****
Esme watched as Wanda Maximoff's life passed before their eyes, and in her opinion, most of it was staggeringly depressing. They stood before one of the countless portals in the Crossroads; actually, Esme stood while Wanda sat on the ground, shaking her head.
"I don't understand," she said. "Why would these people try to kill me? I thought they were my friends..."
"They were jealous of your power, luv. People are always vicious when they're afraid."
Wanda's hands squeezed into fists, and she stared down at them. The power emanating from her even in her half-dead state was positively intoxicating. Esme admired the Slayer's cleverness in sending Wanda *here*... a confused and pliable lump of clay to be molded.
"What can I do?" Wanda asked. "I don't even know who I am, *where* I am... how can I fight them? They'll find me; they'll hunt me down and..."
"No-- no, dear." Esme slipped an arm around her. "No, my friend and I will protect you."
"Your-- friend?"
"Oh, he's wonderful. He used to be their ally, but he turned against them because of their selfishness. He wants to make all this right, and you can help him..."
"I-- but-- no." Wanda shook her head. "Something is not right here. I... I have a brother... Pietro... I can trust Pietro. I must talk to him. Do you know where he is?"
Esme thought: *They've probably locked him in a rubber room like you both deserve, you stupid berk...* (Then she got annoyed with herself when she realized she'd picked up the insult from Miss Frost.) But she forced a smile:
"My friend can help you find him. Would you like that?"
"Yes-- I certainly would. Where is your friend?"
Esme pointed at the portal. "Why, he's right through there."
Wanda recoiled. "Through-- no, not through there!"
*Nasty stubborn little witch...* "Oh, don't be frightened, dear. I'll be with you the whole time..."
"Yes, but... I can't! Not yet. I have to stay here and... and maybe I can make sense of things. If I could only remember..."
Esme wanted to destroy something. Her placid little smile was hurting her face. She felt her nails digging into her palms.
"Well, of course, we would never want to make you uncomfortable. We can stay here as long as it takes..."
"I-- thank you. You won't leave me alone?"
"No, never."
Wanda hugged her. Esme wanted to gag. "Thank you so much. You've been very kind..."
"Of course, dear. You'll see. Everything's going to be fine."
*And soon now,* she thought. *Very soon...*
But she was so distracted that for a moment, she lost track of Sophie. She failed to note the single telepathic pulse the other sent floating through the Multiverse, like a telepathic S.O.S....
****
Alex Summers went to get Pietro-- the best choice by any odds for dealing with his sister-- and the door slammed behind him, leaving the headmaster and mistress of Xavier's alone. They were silent for a long moment.
"You should consider evacuating the school," Emma said. "Not to mention dealing with those vagabonds you rounded up. They're making a shambles of the guest quarters."
"Yes, we'll do all that; we got a little sidetracked when..." Scott frowned. "You? Not we?"
Emma crossed her arms over her chest. "You forget, luv. I'm not an X-Man."
"I'm sorry, Emma. I wanted to tell you, but I couldn't. I just wanted to get you out of here, so that you could do-- what you did. I didn't mean anything I said."
She laughed. "Not any of it? Come, darling. Aren't you the slightest bit tired of distrusting me? Of the way they look at you because we're together? I can assure you, I've had about all I can take."
"It will get better," Scott said.
"No, it won't. The X-Men will never trust the White Queen. And I will never be Jean Grey."
"Nobody wants--"
"Please!" Emma morphed and lashed out with a diamond forearm, clearing his desk and taking a good-sized chunk out of it. "I know you fancy it was all some kind of delightful game, but be honest: Wasn't there even a tiny part of you that wanted an excuse, now that *she's* back?"
Cyclops shook his head-- half a moment too late. "No-- no, listen, Emma, Jean and I-- it's over!"
"It won't be over while she's alive, and she can never die. Believe me, if she *could*, I'd kill her myself. As things are--" Emma turned away. "As things are, it's all rendered pointless. *All* of it."
"No." He touched her shoulder. She didn't pull away. "Emma, what I said to you... it was..."
"For the best, I know. But you wouldn't have done it to any of the others." She looked over her shoulder, meeting his visor with her eyes, tears in them that she'd never let anyone else see. "Because they're heroes, and heroes deserve better. I'm just the enemy. Isn't that right, love?"
"No," he said. "No-- I used you for this because you're *tougher* than them. Because I knew you'd understand, in a way the others wouldn't. Nobody understands like you do, Emma. Please don't let it end over this."
"I'll-- *think* about it," the White Queen said, and walked out the door.
Scott Summers turned, ripped off his visor, and incinerated what remained of the desk. It had been ruined anyway. The hell with it.
****
"James Howlett? Is that really your name? Kind of... prissy, isn't it?"
"Yeah. Believe me, Jeannie, it fit 'im. You shoulda seen the kid I used ta be. He was--" Logan trailed off, folded his arms behind his head and grinned at the redheaded angel of mercy sitting beside his bed.
Jean's Grey's eyes met his. "He was what?"
"He was your type." Logan winked at her. "Y'know, stuck-up, repressed. A good guy."
Jean laughed. "I haven't had much luck with that type lately."
Uncomfortable silence. Logan broke it with a memory: "He said you were alive."
"Who did?"
"Guy named Talbot. Met 'im back in the War. (* in X-Force #1, actually.) Guess he's dead by now."
Jean scratched her chin. "Talbot. You know-- my grandfather had a friend named Talbot. I wonder if-- well. We'll have to look through a photo album when you're feeling better, huh?"
Logan growled to himself and turned away. Jean reached for his hand. He pulled that away, too.
"Hey. What is it?"
"I ain't gonna be here long, Jeannie. Soon as we kill the shadow, I'm goin' back."
"For Betsy." She nodded. "You two should be good together. I'm happy for you."
He looked uncomfortable. "There ain't any 'us two.' If we're smart, there never will be."
Jean laughed. "Yeah. But we're speaking of you and Betsy, so 'smart' isn't really--"
"Hey!" But he laughed. "Yeah, prob'ly right. Anyway, I owe her a lot. I gotta get her back."
"I understand." Jean couldn't resist a quick look at his essence, just to see if any of the old fire between them was still there, underneath whatever he felt for Betsy. Instead-- "Ow! Logan, your mind is... You must have a splitting headache."
"Tell me somethin' I don't know, darlin'. Then tell me why you were lookin' inside my skull, 'cause you know I'd skewer anybody else for that."
"Sorry." Jean flushed crimson. "Just... are you sure you're ready for this? I had no idea you were in such pain. If you're not good to go, tell me now, and we'll make other--"
SNIKT. Logan brought up a set of his claws, peering from behind them with that old, feral grin.
"There's gonna be a big damn fight, darlin'. The biggest. Just *try* t' keep me out of it."
Jean squeezed his free hand. This time, he squeezed back. It was nice to know that no matter how long she'd been gone, *some* things never changed.
****
"I will ask you for the twentieth time, Cassidy, and this time I expect an answer: Where is Wanda? What have you all done with her?"
The former Avenger Quicksilver got his answer, for the Banshee opened his mouth and EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!! Pietro Maximoff flew head over heels into the wall of his room, too stunned to use his speed. Sean caught him by the lapels, lifting him off the ground...
"Don't mistake me savin' yer life in Camelot for friendship, boyo," he whispered into Pietro's ear. "Now, at *this* distance, I could raise me voice on this side o' yer head an' blow what passes for yer brains out t' other. With that thought in mind, I know yeh'll be tryin' harder t' keep a civil tongue in yer head."
"You fool," Pietro said, ignoring him. "Havok told me Wanda had already been brought through the portal."
"He lied."
"Why? What are you keeping from me? If you've hurt her-- if all you can think about is revenge for the House of M, then I swear I'll--"
"When I start takin' revenge, Pietro, I promise yeh'll know."
"*Damn* you, Cassidy--"
Pietro kicked in his power, bringing his fists up faster than the Banshee could react. He could cave in both sides of the other man's skull--
Except that something else, moving equally fast, caught his hands and held them fast.
"Hello," said Jean-Paul Beaubier, who appeared beside the Banshee in a blink. "If you're offended by Mr. Cassidy's manners, I cannot blame you. I don't think Xavier taught them to *any* of these people. But you should know it's an even bigger faux pas to use your superior speed on the normals."
Sean made a face. "I don't need yer help--"
"In fact, you do. He would have killed you."
"That's true," Quicksilver said, smiling, until Jean-Paul smacked his skull against the wall. "Argh! I suggest you unhand me and leave, Northstar, unless you'd like to find out the difference between a speedy tortoise and a genuine hare."
"Although I am duly intimidated by your bunny-rabbit analogy, I believe I will remain. Cassidy, why don't you take a break while I teach this fellow some etiquette?"
"I don't need--"
"Yes, you do," said Alex, appearing the doorway behind them. "Right now, Sean. Cool off. We'll talk later."
"We're not done," the Banshee promised, glowering at Quicksilver. Then he stalked away-- in search of a drink, Pietro assumed, and good riddance.
Alex was marginally friendler: "I'm sorry for the lie about your sister, Pietro. I was afraid you'd make a scene like this one."
"You're damn right, I would have."
"Well, the fact is, Wanda's missing." Pietro's former team leader in X-Factor stared him down. "Now, would you like to help us find her, or would you rather keep posturing?"
Northstar smirked. "Please, let him posture. Perhaps he'll break out the chipmunk threats."
Against his every instinct, Pietro forced himself to relax. Northstar released him. He tried to think rationally.
In her present condition, where could Wanda have gone?
****
Esme's friend made good on her offer to help find Wanda's brother, displaying his present situation in another of the portals. Wanda felt better just seeing his face, *something* she recognized, something to anchor her.
Then she saw the redheaded fellow hit him, and leaped to her feet with hex energies swirling around her.
"They're hurting him! Is it not enough, what they've done to me?"
Esme shrugged. "They're wicked, darling. I'm sorry you had to find out like this..."
"We must stop them! What can be done? Who can stand against these people?"
--I can,-- said a voice in her head, a voice that seemed to come out of the shadows all around her. --Unfortunately, I require a vessel, and mine has been damaged.
--You wouldn't happen to know where I could find a suitable one, would you, Wanda Maximoff?--
Wanda smiled. So did Esme, sympathetically. Wanda thought she was lucky to have fallen in with such good friends.