X-MEN ETERNITY

eXcalibur #5: "Gift of the Madri"
Rated PG-13 for violence and language

by R. John Burke
X-Men Eternity Message Board: http://solofan.proboards76.com/index.cgi

DISCLAIMER: The X-Men are a copyright of Marvel Comics. I don't own them, but this is only non-profit fan fiction. No money is involved and no infringement is intended.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: X-Men Eternity started (in Uncanny #1: The Shattering) with the events at the end of "House of M" and went in a different direction. Nothing that happened after that is cannon for our purposes, and in fact a few things have changed; the team is now spread through time and space. "eXcalibur: Eternity" deals with a part of the team trapped in an alternate reality in the time of King Arthur.

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Alternate Reality #225
The British Isles
A Long Time Ago...

"Can we stop for a breather yet?"

"No."

"I could eat a horse. No offense to the sentient horses present. Can we at least have lunch?"

"No!"

"Hey, guys, how about we take this path to the east? I'll bet I can get us home quicker than--"

"JAMIE!"

Jamie Madrox straightened up slightly from where he'd been slumped across his horse; he frowned at Alex Summers-- Havok, his team's field leader. He pointed with one finger. "Don't look at me, boss. *They're* doing it."

Alex grumbled something he was just as glad the others didn't hear. On a technical level, Jamie was perfectly right. They didn't call him the Multiple Man for nothing; once he was separated from the duplicate selves he created, they became their own people. He had not the slightest control over their actions, especially lately, when the dupes had shown a growing yen for... independence.

On the other hand, of course, they all started out with a copy of Jamie's brain, or some aspects thereof. Alex couldn't help feeling that, if Jamie hadn't been kind of a jerk in the first place, his duplicates wouldn't be driving his teammates insane now.

Alex sighed. That wasn't fair to Jamie. He was their hero, having stretched himself to the limits to protect Alex, Rahne Sinclair (Wolfsbane), and Cain Marko (the Juggernaut), as well as Cain's bestial friend Dagonet, the aforementioned sentient horse... thing, who was now wounded, but still managed to limp along carrying Sean Cassidy, the unconscious Banshee, across his back. Their allies-- four knights of what was laughably called the Round Table in this dimension, although it better resembled a pack of cutthroats-- had suddenly turned on them, cutting down Jamie's dupes by the dozen and leaving the X-Men to die. (* all transpired last issue) If Sean hadn't come screaming in suddenly, they'd have had better luck with that. Instead, they'd made a mistake.

A lot of enemies had made that mistake over the years; the X-Men rarely died on command. Oh, sometimes one of them was left a little bit dead for a few months, even years, but that was rarely fatal. And when they came *back* from death... brother, they came back with a vengeance.

But they had to make it to their destination with some semblance of sanity remaining in order to affect revenge, and the presence of no less than six Madroxes-- Jaimie, plus five little friends whom his injuries had left him unable to reabsorb (* last issue, again)-- was not helping one little bit. The latter group trudged along behind the horses, a combination rear guard and identical peanut gallery.

"Funny thing, though," Jamie murmured, as he had twelve times already, "I could have sworn I left *six* dupes behind..."

Rahne said, "Ach, Jamie, there's so many o' ye, have can ye possibly keep count?"

He frowned at her. "Sorry, Miss Sinclair, maybe you should try subdividing *your* consciousness like some kind of a damn amoeba and see if you don't notice when part of it goes missing. Trust me, it behooves a guy to keep count."

"Did he actually use -behooves- in a sentence?" said Cain Marko. "That ain't normal. I *gotta* beat the crap outta that little geek someday."

"Try it," said half a dozen Madroxes at once.

"Yeah? An' what if I do?"

The Jamies looked at each other.

"We'll, um, run away," said one of them.

"You won't want to pursue us," said another. "We're like a whole relay team."

"You might pull a hammie," said a third Jamie.

"Can't I kill just *one* of 'em? Please?" asked Cain.

Alex groaned. "Excuse me. Somebody repeat the rule for me, please?"

One of the Jamies sighed. "Yeah, we know. Only the prime Madrox is supposed to talk. The rest of us all make like we're Penance."

"If it's not too much trouble." Havok mentally counted to ten, then addressed the Madrox he was mostly concerned with. "Well, there was a lot of confusion. Maybe one of the leftover dupes ran to join the battle and got killed."

"Yeah," Jamie agreed. "Maybe..."

He didn't buy it. Alex was inclined to trust his judgment, but he had other worries, and he didn't see how it could be significant. What was one Madrox, more or less, in the scheme of things? They had plenty to spare.

Dagonet claimed to know of a sanctuary up ahead. Alex hoped so. He'd been betrayed and humiliated and he thought he might be allergic to horse dander, a real problem for a man who was as likely to release a burst of concentrated solar radiation as a sneeze.

Despite their promise, the Madri kept talking. Alex didn't incinerate them. Barely. The horses kept on toward their destination.

****

*We're all alone now, and so very scared...*

The thought echoed between Universes, between the two remaining sisters of what had been the Five-in-One, fast becoming the most powerful telepathic force this side of an Omega mutant. It wasn't the most powerful anything now, its strength having been sapped by the loss of three sisters: Celeste, in battle with the Slayer (* X-Force #5), Esme, the traitor (* New X-Men #5), and now Sophie, whose sense they had lost when she tried to fend off Esme. (* X-Factor #5).

Mindee and Phoebe Cuckoo, the remaining sisters, had all but lost sight of the path that would take them through this madness. With three-fifths of the group mind gone, including its two dominant personalities, they questioned whether it even *mattered* to defeat the Slayer. Whichever way the die was cast, they lost.

But they had struck a deal with Charles Xavier, and whatever else the group mind might have been, none of them save Esme was prepared to break their word. More to the point, they didn't know what else to do. If the Slayer was defeated, and Esme with him, perhaps their other sisters could yet be saved.

*Maybe*. They didn't hold out much hope. But nothing else held *any* hope, and so they stuck to the plan.

The plan was rapidly going to hell. The Slayer-- an entity called Merlin here in his home timeline-- had imprisoned the King and sent his nasty guards for Mindee and Jean Grey. (* last issue) Those men had quickly learned that swords and clubs against the Phoenix were about as much use as a rubber chicken in a thermonuclear war, but sooner or later, Merlin would send someone else. Smarter and more powerful mutants, who might delay what had to be done. Mindee thought it would be better if she and Miss Grey were gone when they arrived.

She paused at the front entrance of a tiny cottage on the edge of town. Inside, a pert, dark-haired woman was sweeping up with a broom. Mindee could feel Miss Grey looking past her shoulder in astonishment, but she couldn't afford to worry about that now. They were running out of time.

"Hello, Moira," she said. "Um... we're back."

The lady turned. She was the spitting image of Moira MacTaggert, although she used her maiden name Kinross here, and unlike the other time-displaced X-Men and allies, she seemed to believe she was part of this reality. There was a good reason for that, but if nobody guessed it, Mindee wouldn't tell.

"Ach, not again!" Moira said. "I just patched th' ceiling from th' last time!" (* eXcalibur #2, the ceiling was destroyed by the Banshee's scream.)

"I'm sorry," Mindee told her. "We need a little help."

The woman set hands on her hips. "What is it about *me*? Why d'ye strange travelers keep comin' to me?"

Jean swallowed hard, took a step forward. "Moira... do you remember me?"

Moira frowned. "I fear not, lass, but with that red head o' hair, I'm certain yuir trouble. Which is just what I need, more trouble."

Mindee could hear voices outside now, in the distance, shouting and grumbling. It wouldn't take them long to come with pitchforks. She had to hurry.

"There's a place," she said. "A place outside the city, where people gather who don't like Merlin. You know where that place is?"

Moira glared at her. "How is it ye think ye know what I know?"

"Let's say I know the kind of person you are. Will you please show us the way?"

Someone outside shouted a curse. Something heavy went 'crash.' Mindee hissed. She could *make* Moira do what was necessary, but that might ruin everything. It would be so much simpler to just convince her... but quickly. *Very* quickly.

Moira ran to the window, glanced out, and murmured something vicious-sounding under her breath. She turned back to the other women.

"There's a great crowd gatherin' out there. They're comin' for ye, aren't they?"

Jean nodded. "Yes."

Moira pressed a hand to the bridge of her nose. "Ach, if I'd even a wee jot o' sense, I'd toss ye straight out to them, so I would. Come on..."

Glancing back at the other women, she moved quickly to the window and climbed through. She beckoned for them to follow... into the night, and the wilderness beyond the city.

Jean Grey nodded for her to go on-- they'd be along-- but stood rooted to the spot with fire literally in her eyes. She was reaching out with her power, and what she found...

"You know, then," Mindee said.

"Moira MacTaggert's an old and dear friend. I know her sense, and that isn't her. What have you and your sisters done?"

Mindee bounced from foot to foot, not wanting to look at her. "Have you ever looked for shapes in the stars, Miss Grey? People used to think they saw lots of things. That's how they made constellations. We made one that looked like a pretty lady."

"But why--" A moment later, Jean had it. "Sean. That's why he's helping you. You gave him Moira back."

Mindee nodded, still avoiding eye contact.

"How dare you? When he finds out--"

"We needed him." The girl looked up suddenly, her glowing eyes drawing in Jean's.

"And you think that makes it okay?"

"No," Mindee whispered. "No. Mr. Cassidy's a nice man. We... *I* like him. But I lied to him, because this is more important. You know it's true."

Jean flinched. "I know nothing of the sort. This will destroy Sean!"

"Yes, and it's worth that! Stopping the Slayer is worth *everything*. I'm not asking anything of Mr. Cassidy-- or you-- that I wouldn't give. I would die for this, Miss Grey. I probably will die for this. What about you?"

"I... Moira's waiting, there's no time." That incandescent stare had grown uncomfortable, anyway. Jean shuffled past the girl. "Keep her away from Rahne. This will be bad enough as it is."

Mindee nodded. She would have done that anyway. The Banshee was a mature man, and in the considered opinion of the Five-in-One, the kind of love he had for Moira was just lust with a prettier name. But to give Rahne Sinclair back the woman who was practically her mother, then yank her away--

It would be very like getting Esme and Sophie back from the grave, only to lose them again. Mindee shuddered, because she knew too well what *that* felt like. She resolved herself to the idea that she had done a horrible thing, and would do so again. Then she followed Moira and Miss Grey, because she still had no other choice.

****

In the first rays of morning, Lorna Dane stirred, woke, and wished she were someplace else. Almost anyplace would have done. Someplace not trapped out of time, held captive by people whimsically named Mordred and Morgan le Fay (not the Avengers villain), and forced to ride herd on her unstable half-brother Pietro would have been nice. (* see last issue for all that.)

Pietro was waking up, too-- no mean feat, since the man called Quicksilver had been sort of killed the night before. Morgan had resurrected him with ease, leaving Lorna with the hope that she and her friends might be able to set other things right as easily. Unfortunately, her first attempt to gather Lorna's fellow X-Men into her rebellion had failed. (* last issue! Again!) Lorna wondered what her backup plan was, and whether it would get anybody killed.

"Rise and shine," she murmured to Pietro, who was still tossing fitfully.

"Eh? Wha...?" He gasped and sat bolt upright. "Wanda!"

"No, sorry. It's the *other* sister. You know, the one who doesn't get invited to reunions."

Pietro glared at her. "I was dreaming."

"You think?" Lorna sighed. "I was thinking, if you're up to it, we might spend the day kicking small to moderate amounts of ass."

"Starting with our friend Morgan le Fay?"

Lorna winked at him while stretching out sore muscles. "You never think too small, do you? We probably should just start with the guy outside the tent who's leeching our powers."

"The imperative point," Pietro held up one finger, "being our lack of powers."

"That's easily fixed."

"Oh, really? How?"

Lorna grinned. Then she flopped down on the ground and started thrashing and screaming, while Pietro looked on in confusion.

"HELP! Oh, HELP! Do please help me! He's killing me!"

A little slow without his powers, Pietro only blinked. "I... am?"

In a flash, three men appeared at the door to the tent. Two were big, powerful bruisers wielding swords. The other, who peered in curiously past the flap, was short and bald and slightly bowlegged. Lorna figured him for the leech.

First she had to deal with the others. She pointed at Pietro and cried in her best Scarlet O'Hara voice: "That brute! That monster! He must be working for Merlin! Get him quickly, before he lays hands on another poor, defenseless woman!"

The guards turned to her half-brother, who said rather weakly: "Grr?"

As they drew their swords and ran to the rescue, Lorna lashed out to trip one; he tumbled into his comrade. On her feet in a moment, she jerked a thumb at the little man in the doorway. "Quickly! Get the leech!"

One of the guards was back up, and he swung his sword in a wide arc. Lorna ducked it; remembering all her past training with Alex and Wolverine and anybody else in the Danger Room, she darted past his guard and aimed her blows for his weak points. It kept him off-balance while Pietro ran, at a fraction of his usual speed, after the shrieking leech.

Lorna felt rather useless without her own power, but she *was* better-trained and motivated than these guys. If she could just keep dodging them, stay a step ahead and hope neither was a...

"GrrrrrRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR!" said the one on the ground.

"...mutant," Lorna whispered aloud. "Crap."

The fellow jumped up and morphed-- did the whole hulk bit, outgrowing most of his uniform (the shorts remained conveniently in place; she decided metamorphs must wear 'em baggy). In no time, Lorna was facing down an eight-foot bruiser with orange skin and glowing red eyes. Lorna backed away, wishing for a half-second of Polaris power...

"Um. Hi, there. I know, you're thinking what everyone thinks: How does she keep her hair so naturally green and shiny? Well, it's a closely guarded secret between me and She-Hulk, but since we're friends, I can--"

"Silence," the guard rumbled. "If you wish to live, you'll make no trouble."

He reached for her. Lorna winced.

THUD, went something just outside the tent. Pietro, tackling the leech and landing a solid blow.

Strong hands wrapped around Lorna. Her eyes lit up as power flooded her.

"Wha--?" the guard managed, just before Lorna encased him in a magnetic force bubble and sent him crashing through the top of the tent, via trans-continental airmail, to a destination in the neighborhood of Asbury Park, New Jersey.

"No trouble at all," she said, and turned to the other guard, who was reaching for his sword. "Don't make me wrap that 'round your neck, 'kay?"

"I-- I shan't, m'lady."

"Bright lad. Later."

Lorna flew out the front door of the tent, allowing it to collapse behind her. She got there just in time to see Pietro make his circuit of the nearby soldiers, kayoing half a dozen of the closest ones in the blink of an eye.

"I'm feeling *much* better," he announced as he skidded to a halt in front of her. "Erm, but wasn't that quite a chance you took? How did you know you could handle those fellows?"

"I paid attention to my combat classes. Didn't you Avengers learn *anything* from Captain America?"

"Yes, but you had to survive the fourteen-hour Ethics class to get to the good part." Pietro made a face. "I thought the X-Men called you crazy in *jest*..."

"I'm not crazy," Lorna said, a glint in her eye as she addressed the remainder of Morgan le Fay's army. "But I am a little upset. Who wants to surrender? Anybody?"

One of the soldiers gave a battle cry, and they charged her and Pietro as one.

"I was hoping you'd say that," Lorna told them, and went to work.

****

"Now, are you sure you're completely comfortable, Rahne, because--"

"Yes!" The exhausted Wolfsbane said, for at least the fifth time since collapsed at the base of this tree for what she'd assumed would be a rest. "Completely."

"Because if there's *anything* I can get you, don't hesitate to--"

"I know!" she snapped. "Ye've told me. Over and *over*."

"I'm just saying," said one of Jamie's duplicates, whose eyes were particularly big and mooney. "Call me for *anything*, day or night..."

A werewolf snarl escaped Rahne's lips. She wished that had frightened the dupe, but it really only seemed to intrigue him.

"Look," she said. "*Which* flamin' number are ye?"

He frowned. "Um, I'm Number Four, I think. According to the straw vote. Personally I think I'm *far* superior to..."

"Number Four. 'Tis verra nice o' ye, truly, but I dinna need anything. Day or-- especially, *especially*, mind ye-- night."

"Oh." His face fell. "It's okay, I understand. I just thought..."

A voice not far away broke into laughter. Rahne and the dupe both turned-- another Madrox was leaning against a nearby tree. From his stance and the rip in his sleeve (from a sword swipe during the battle), Rahne *thought* his was the prime one, but it was hard to be certain. If they started sharing laundry, all would be lost.

"Will you *beat* it already?" the prime Madrox said. "You're embarrassing us."

Number Four glared at him, but followed orders, grumbling as he went: "Sure, pal. Just because *you* can't see a good thing when it's right in front of you..."

The prime Madrox watched him go, then turned back to Rahne with a self-conscious little cough. "Sorry about that. Duplicates. You know the drill."

Rahne couldn't resist a chance to twist the knife: "Seems to be a common drill of late, doesn't it, now?"

"Hey!" said Jamie. "Come on, be fair! I've got dupes who are in love with *everybody*! I think one of them hit on Alex earlier..."

"Aye, but that's the *second* one t' profess his love for me. Makes a lass think something's on yuir mind..."

Jamie turned bright red. "And you said *I* shouldn't keep count. Still... I guess it *could* be significant..."

Rahne arched an eyebrow. "Oh?"

"Sure. Think about it, kid: You've officially gotten more attention than Jean. That's, like, remarkable. *Everybody* falls for Jean Grey sooner or later."

"Well, perhaps that's what the *other* dupes are for," she snickered. "That aren't hittin' on Alex, I mean..."

Jamie sat down across from her, honestly smiling for the first time in a while. "Think of it: I could create an *army* of redhead-obsessed Madroxes. We could take over this world! You and Jean could rule from on high. We could find this reality's Wolverine and get him into the act. He's been around since King Arthur, right?"

Rahne laughed aloud. Then, remembering her prime objective of needling Jamie, she leaned forward a bit. "And the prime Madrox? Which of these crimson goddesses will *he* be worshipping?"

Jamie's smile faded. "In these matters? He's an agnostic. You can't be anything else, when you're *everybody*."

"Isn't that a good deal like bein' nobody?"

"Yeah," he admitted. The Multiple Man cross his arms over his chest and sighed. "Of course, all this depends on me getting my powers back. If I don't..."

"If ye don't, ye'd have to live your own life fer a change. Just the one. Ye'd have to decide." She peered at him. "An' that terrifies ye."

"More than you know," Jamie said.

Rahne left it there. She'd barely closed her eyes, though, when Alex's voice sounded in the distance, urging them forward again. She and Jamie shared a look and sighed. There wouldn't be any real rest until they'd beaten the Slayer and gone home. Digging up secrets for the scum of Mutant Town would look like a vacation compared to all this...

****

At Moira's insistence, they traveled in circles for most of the night, more than quadrupling the length of their journey but making their trail impossible for even enhanced senses to follow. Jean pushed herself and her comrades relentlessly. When one of the others seemed to be weakening, Jean simply reached into her power reserve and gave them a boost, literally keeping the trio going through force of will. She didn't know quite why she was in such a hurry, except now that things were happening, she had a feeling they would fall into place very quickly, and she wanted to be ready when they did.

Just past dawn, Moira called a halt and pointed into the trees. Stretching out with her senses, Jean detected maybe a dozen brains, including a couple of mutants, in a hastily cobbled-together camp, complete with rope ladders and treehouses.

Mindee, sensing the same things she did, managed a chuckle. "Sherwood Forest."

"Let's not mix and match our legends," Jean said. "Can't you feel it? They're all frightened, hunted."

"True enough. I'll be nice. But if Friar Tuck shows up, I'm leaving."

"This is the resistance?" Jean said to Moira.

The older woman-- or whatever it was that looked like her-- shrugged. "These are the losers, m'dear. The resistance would be Mordred's army."

"An army?"

Moira nodded. "But for all their audacity, I've ne'er heard of them coming so close to Merlin's base of power. Every now an' then, one o' these poor souls runs off to join 'em. They're generally ne'er heard from again."

"Cheerful," Mindee said.

"I'll tell the leaders you're here," said Moira, and she disappeared into the trees.

Jean leaned against one massive trunk and sighed. She felt *so* tired. Despite her boasting, she *wasn't* entirely the Phoenix anymore-- for her own sanity, she couldn't be-- and she didn't know how much more of this she could endure.

She almost didn't hear when Mindee said, "Miss Grey? I'm sorry."

Jean quirked one eye open. "For which thing are you sorry? There's lots."

"I'm sorry I couldn't tell you the truth. I'm sorry I couldn't save Moira. Or the Professor. Or the other X-Men. Or my sisters. Things just... happened. Bad things. I couldn't stop them. I really wanted to."

Jean peered at the girl, at the blue eyes they didn't see very often lately and the cheeks, wet with tears. She settled into a crouch and beckoned Mindee close to her.

"It will be okay," she said. "Y'know... I was about your age when the Professor first asked *me* to save the world. I know it takes some getting used to."

Mindee nodded. "I just wish I were better at it."

"Uh-huh. What would Miss Frost have said about that?"

The Stepford Cuckoo frowned. "Um, probably something like, 'The world is never fair, my darlings. So cheat it *first*.'"

Jean laughed. "Well... that possesses a certain... Emmaness."

"Yeah... The others are gone now. In my head. I'm alone."

"No, you're not." Jean reached out for her hand. "We're going to beat him, Mindee. We'll beat him together, okay? You have my word."

The girl almost, *almost* smiled at her. Then a rustle in the underbrush heralded Moira's return. With her came a broad-shouldered mutant with a pencil-thin mustache. Jean gasped when she recognized him.

"Bedivere, isn't it? One of Merlin's knights."

The big man nodded. "Yes, Lady Grey, I am he. I wish we could have met under more cheerful circumstances."

Moira patted his shoulder. "This lummox has been working with us, against Merlin, for some time. At least *one* of those devils has a conscience."

"But not power enough to right the wrongs of his fellows."

Jean frowned. "But shouldn't you be off with Alex and the others on a scouting mission?"

"Aye." The knight sighed. "I fear I bear unhappy tidings, milady. Not a full day past, I stood with your friends when we encountered Mordred's army."

"You found them?" Jean allowed a beam of hope to penetrate her gloom. "That's excellent. Now all we have to do is--"

Bedivere held up a hand. "Merlin feared it would be thus. He ordered Galahad and the others to betray your friends. I-- I could not help them, for fear of compromising all this. Many were slaughtered before my eyes. They died most bravely."

"No!" Jean gasped. "Alex! Rahne! It *can't* be--"

"Relax," said a new voice. "Yeah, Belvedere saw some fellas die. Fortunately, all of them were me."

Jamie Madrox stepped out of the trees. He had a sword strapped to his belt and a roguish grin on his face.

"We found this one last night," Bedivere said. "He alone has returned to tell the tale."

"Jamie-- the others--"

He shrugged. "We had a little scrape, but it's cool. Havok sent me on ahead. He asked me to send you to him when you showed up. Said there's something you really ought to see a few clicks back."

"Something I--" Jean frowned. She extended her senses; Jamie wasn't lying. She sensed her friends, not far away. Alex, Rahne, Cain Marko, and several Madroxes. Even Sean was there. She breathed a sigh of relief.

"I think it's going to be okay now," she told Mindee. "The others are coming."

"Go on," Jamie told her. "Alex said it was important. You should meet up with him. I'll mind the store."

"Yes, alright. Stay here with Mr. Madrox, Mindee. I'll be back in just a few moments."

"But--" said Mindee. The girl trailed off and nodded. "Okay. I guess. Hurry."

"When I get back," she said to Bedivere, "we'll talk strategy."

The knight agreed, and a moment later, she was aloft, hurrying ahead with her telekinesis, wondering what Alex might have discovered that couldn't have waited another couple of hours.

She would not remember, until much later, the little smile on Jamie Madrox's face as she took off.

****

Wanda Maximoff, the Scarlet Witch, lay on a feather mattress inside the largest tent in the camp. Her brother Pietro stopped for a moment at her bedside, to make certain she was all right. Her vital signs were strong, although her breath came slow and measured and she almost appeared to be in a trance... or a coma.

"What have they done to you, my dear?" Pietro murmured. "It always has to be so hard, doesn't it? Well... come on. Our-- our sister and I have come to take you home."

He scooped her up in his arms-- she didn't even stir-- and turned toward the door of the tent. That was right when Polaris came hurtling back through it and slammed into him. All three siblings went down in a heap.

"Careful!" Pietro hissed.

"Yeah, like I did that on *purpose*."

"I thought you were attending to the soldiers outside!"

"I was. Bad news about that..."

A moment later, the tent wasn't even there anymore. It had been ripped away; Pietro beheld the bare plain on which Morgan le Fay and Mordred had their army. Much of that army had been left unconscious or was imprisoned by some form of metal, but two remained before the children of Magneto, proudly unaffected by Lorna's fury.

One of them was a young man, tall and bearded, with a patch over one eye. He wielded an impressive-looking sword. Pietro guessed him to be Mordred. The other was Morgan le Fay.

"I thought we settled this yesterday," Morgan said.

Lorna glowered up at her. "You want to fight the Slayer together? Lovely. We'll do lunch. I'll call all my friends. But I'm not your pawn, and I will not form an alliance under threat."

"Oh, my girl, you have not yet *seen* a threat from me. *This* is a threat!"

She held forth her arm, and the sky above them darkened. Thunder growled, and lightning struck the ground a meter away. Wanda moaned and tossed in Pietro's arms.

"Lovely," he murmured. "She's Jean Grey and Storm rolled into one. Quite the little challenge, eh, Polaris?"

"Yeah. You know that, well, running really fast thing you do, Pietro? Now might be the time for it."

Pietro looked from the sister he'd cared for all her life to the one he'd just discovered. He set his jaw and tossed his head, calling up their father's defiance.

"I do not abandon family. Let us face her together."

"Okay," said Lorna, "but you're not going to like what I've got to do."

"Why, what...?"

Before he could finish framing the question, Lorna had called a soldier's dagger into her hand and pressed it to Wanda's throat.

"Polaris!"

"Call off your dogs, Morgan," Lorna said. "Or I'll kill her."

Pietro could have stopped her-- he could easily move fast enough to stop her-- but he was so stunned by the sudden threat, by its utter strangeness, that he almost couldn't help watching it play out.

Morgan le Fay's eyes flashed-- but she didn't laugh. She appeared, in fact, deadly serious. "Kill her, then. What is that to me?"

Lorna smiled. "Because if she dies, my lady, you die too. Don't you? Or are you going to tell me we just *happened* to fall into the hands of the most powerful mutant I've ever seen, who has nothing better to do than help us fight the Slayer?

"Now, tell the truth, Morgan, and I'll put down the dagger: Aren't you the Scarlet Witch?"

Pietro was too shocked to speak, but he noticed a tiny smile on Wanda's lips...

****

Almost the moment Jean Grey was gone, Mindee Cuckoo started shuddering violently. She studied the ground and didn't answer when Moira announced her intention to go and take care of some wounded, or when Bedivere asked if she was hungry. She took no notice of anything until she felt Jamie Madrox's hand on her shoulder.

"Relax, kid," he said. "You look like you've seen a ghost."

"I--I don't know what's wrong."

"Oh, don't worry, angel. Jean'll be fine. And you and me... we're gonna have lots of fun."

Mindee frowned. "I think maybe I'll go and, um--"

Jamie's hand clamped shut on her arm. Something in Mindee's brain went: OhnoohnoohnoOHNOVERYBADVERYVERYBAD, but somehow she couldn't speak, couldn't even move as her protector turned casually to Bedivere and drew his sword, inspecting it under the light.

"Good steel," he said.

"From Merlin's own armory," the knight agreed. "Alas, we have too few."

"Ain't that always the way? You guys don't need fancy weapons, though. I've heard of you, Bedivere. They say you can weild a psychic sword at the speed of thought."

The knight laughed his booming laugh. "I assure you, everything you've heard is true. I could tell you stories..."

"I bet," Jamie said. "The thing is, though... what if you never saw the attack coming?"

"I--" said Bedivere, even as Jamie Madrox drove the sword straight through his gut. The knight fell, replaced by two others who came out of the woods, sounding the alarm as they went...

One of Jamie's dupes must have taken fencing, learned from ninjas, or attended Renaissance Faires. Maybe dupes had done all of those, at one time or another. He neatly parried every stroke, knocked the fellows off their guard, and ran them through. Then he returned to Mindee.

"Please," she said. "Please don't... I can't move..."

His eyes flashed black. "I know you can't, angel. That's the Slayer in me. He's just gonna make you hold still and be quiet for a couple of seconds. Don't worry, this won't hurt too much. Or too long."

He drew back the sword. Mindee wanted to scream, but she couldn't. She could only whisper:

"Why?"

The Madrox shrugged. "You're one of five by choice. I'm one of a billion by fate. Now, thanks to your Slayer, I'm fate's master. I intend to be the *only* Jamie Madrox. I intend to live. To love. To think my *own* thoughts."

"Okay, but this? This was a really bad thought."

"Eh. I'm new at it. I'll get better."

The sword glinted in the sunlight. Mindee squeezed her eyes hut.

*THWIP!*

She looked up: An arrow had embedded itself in the trees beside the duplicate Jamie's head. He glanced back at the camp, where several people were waving swords and another was loading his bow. He grabbed Mindee's arm again.

"C'mon, angel. We'll finish this someplace else..."

****

When he first beheld the Phoenix approaching, Alex thought the sun had baked his brains and he was seeing mirages. He felt sort of uncomfortable with the idea that he was fantasizing about Jean instead of Lorna or his parents or a giant vat of ice cream or something... but when she landed, he cast those thoughts aside and just hugged her.

"Jeannie! Are we glad to see you! When Merlin turned on us, we figured..."

"He'd go after me too?" Jean Grey grinned. "Well, he did, but that's a long story. Why did you want me to see, Alex?"

He frowned at her, wondering whose brain the sun had *really* baked. "Huh?"

"What was the big revelation? Come on, we don't have a lot of time..."

In the background, Alex saw one of the Madroxes turn to the others and make a whirlybird 'she's crazy' motion around his ear. Ignoring them, he turned back to his old friend.

"Search me. My only revelation today was that if you're really hungry enough, you can eat a field mouse."

"Don't remind me," Rahne said, holding her stomach.

"Wait, but... the Madrox duplicate told me..."

"The WHAT?" said the prime Jamie, leaping off his horse. "Dammit! I knew there were six of them! I *knew* it!"

"Ach, so ye were right once," said Rahne. "Don't rub it... in..."

The heroes performed what, from a distance, must have been an amusing double-take. Then Jean said a couple of words she could only have learned from Wolverine.

"Mindee! I think I've made a horrible mistake..."

Alex tried to reassure her. The duplicate was probably just confused, he said. Jamie said there wasn't much to worry about because, even if one of him *was* causing trouble, he wouldn't work for the Slayer and he'd *never* hurt a kid. That, he said, just wasn't him.

Then they made it to the rebel camp and Moira showed them the bodies. The reassurances sounded a little hollow after that.

****

Inside the cottage that had belonged to Moira Kinross, the duplicate Jamie Madrox congratulated himself on a nice job of doubling back. The Slayer inside his head was equally complimentary. If those idiots his progenitor worked for had even figured out his game, they hadn't yet come close enough to touch him... or to prevent the completion of his assignment.

He held his hostage close against his chest, feeling her shallow breathing as the knife inched closer to her throat.

"Pretty thing," he whispered in her ear. "You could almost be made of glass."

Every muscle in her body tensed. He enjoyed the feeling, the power, the way the glow from her eyes danced on her cheeks in the dim light. She sent little tendrils into his mind that tickled.

Jamie cocked his head. "Can't get inside, angel. I've got something special padding my brain."

"He'll kill you," Mindee said. "He kills everything."

"But I'll be the last to die. You'll be the first."

"You won't--"

She tried to fight, but couldn't even loosen his hold. Then, abruptly, Mindee relaxed. Jamie knew what she'd perceived. Right on time, too.

The door swung open. Jean Grey charged in, with Havok and Moira just behind. The Phoenix flame appeared in the former's eye when she beheld her little protegé. Jamie took pleasure in knowing they'd die within sight of each other.

He barely had to flick the knife. The girl made the funniest little sound. Warm wetness covered his hands and spattered on the floor.

"NO!" Jean snarled. Between her teke and Havok's power, they blew out the entire wall behind Jamie, but didn't touch the man himself, who was quite well-protected from their charms.

He discarded the Cuckoo's body, flipping the knife into his other hand, regarding the mighty Jean Grey like an interesting little frog he'd soon dissect.

"So much for telekinesis putting me down." He stepped forward. "How long's it been since--"

"Sorry," Alex interrupted. "Did you think we were aiming at *you?*"

The Madrox was confused for about half a second. Then he felt strong, almost inhumanly large fingers wrap around his skull and lift him off the ground. He realized too late that the redheaded witch had been opening the door for her colleagues. And the Slayer hadn't provided him with protection from the merely physical...

While Jean and Moira fell to their knees beside Mindee, a simmering Cain Marko regarded the spare Madrox through one narrowed eye.

"Lookee what we got here. A nasty little bug to squish."

Jamie got a glimpse of Rahne Sinclair's snapping jaws behind the Juggernaut. "Make him squeal, Marko. He deserves tha', at least, th' petty traitor."

"Don't worry," Cain Marko leered at the whimpering duplicate. "That kid was a friend a' mine, meat. Yer about to wish you was never b--"

"Put him down," said a new voice.

Pure relief flooded the duplicate. "Brother! At last!"

Jamie Madrox pushed into the room, his mirror-image face the only one in the room not full of rage. In fact, he was completely inscrutable as he stared down the Juggernaut with ice-cold eyes. "Put him down."

"Why, Madrox? So you won't hurt too much when you gotta suck him back into yer worthless brain? This sack a' garbage just killed a kid!"

"I know what he did, Cain. Put. Him. Down."

It would have been impossible to say, even had the duplicate been feeling clear-headed, exactly what it was in the other Jamie's manner that so thoroughly impressed the Juggernaut. Whatever it was, Cain Marko took him seriously for probably the only time in their association, releasing the spare Madrox into the middle of the room.

The duplicate gasped. "*Thank* you. Listen, there's a lot I can tell you about the Slayer. You just have to--"

"Shut up, you child-murdering sonofab-"

The duplicate didn't hear the rest of the sentence over the sound of his own noise breaking. Pain flooded him, but it was only the beginning. The whole world seemed to swim around him as his progenitor assailed him again and again.

Jamie Madrox knew the fighting techniques of dozens of cultures by heart; he could have killed his duplicate instantly, painlessly. But this wasn't meant to be painless. This was... efficient but brutal, *savage*, with bare-knuckled blows designed to twist cartilage, shatter bone, *hurt* in every way that could have been imagined and some that had to be felt to be believed.

After all the damage the prime Jamie had already taken, the psychic backlash from *this* couldn't have made things any better. If he minded or even noticed, it was impossible to tell from the workmanlike manner with which he addressed his task.

It was a only minute later, perhaps less, when Rahne Sinclair grabbed the prime Jamie and shouted for him, pleaded with him to stop. By then, there wasn't much left on the duplicate that would ever work properly again.

The real Jamie stared at his bloody fists, then down at the ruined copy of himself, and his mask finally slipped:

"What was it? What part of me was so... so angry, so broken... that you can take a freaking *knife* and... and... she was just sixteen years old, dammit! How could you do that? Just tell me. Tell me, huh? WHAT THE HELL PART OF ME ARE YOU?!"

The duplicate Jamie looked up out of him through the one eye that remained sort of good, gathered his strength, and spat blood on the prime Madrox's boots. A gesture straight out of Milton, which his progenitor could only regard with mute shock.

"Can you absorb yet?" Alex asked into the quiet. "Better try, before he dies."

"I don't want *that* back inside me."

"Jamie, he *knows* things. The Slayer--"

"Can screw with someone else for a while, thank you, Alex." Jamie stood over his duplicate and shuddered violently. "He's part of me. All this came from me. But I don't need *this* part."

His boot slammed into the duplicate's midsection once more, a useless gesture against an unconscious target. Then he turned to Cain Marko.

"Break him."

The Juggernaut lifted the treacherous dupe high above his head. The SNAP would have been audible even outside, to the onlookers who had gathered to gape at the missing wall.

The remaining Jamie Madrox sank to his knees and wretched his guts out from the combined effect of hundreds of deaths and days of psychic backlash. Rahne knelt beside him, and held his head in her lap while he cried.

****

While this drama was playing out, Jean Grey and Moira Kinross had more practical concerns to consider: Mainly whether or not a teenage girl's life could still be saved. In the physical world, by all the rules of healing she knew, Moira did not expect to have any luck on that score.

On a mental level, searching for Mindee's consciousness on the astral plane, Jean had more hope-- but not much of it.

She found the girl deep inside herself, her self-image as warped and broken as the real body bleeding out onto Moira's floor. The mind's defenses tried to push Jean away, but she bulled her way through, her astral form settling at the girl's side.

"Hey," Jean whispered. "I've been looking for you."

"Go. You have to hurry, Miss Grey. You know what could happen if you're trapped in my mind when--"

Jean took the girl's hand. "Forget about that. Concentrate on me. Come back to me. You can do it."

"No, I can't. This is death. This is what Sophie and Esme felt. It's... well, it kind of sucks. But it will be okay."

"No, it won't, because it can't have you," Jean said. "I see what you've been doing now, honey, and I'm sorry I was cross. You've tried so hard to protect us."

Mindee sighed. "I just want to rest..."

"But we still need you! Your sisters need you!"

The girl shuddered. Jean could feel her slipping away. "I can't find Celeste. I can't find Sophie; Esme's taken her and gone away. The Two-in-One? I don't think so, Miss Grey. Phoebe's left, she's very close, she can do her part alone. She'll have to."

"No," Jean said, digging in with all her telepathic power. "*No*. Remember when I was like this, honey? When Merlin almost beat me? (* eXcalibur #3) You wouldn't leave me then. I won't leave you now."

Even on the astral plane, the girl's eyes had lost their brilliance. "It's a very different thing, Miss Grey. There's no hope for my body, you know that. It's dangerous in here. The X-Men still need you. Don't make me push you out."

Jean ran through everything she knew-- about the astral plane, about the mind, about the Phoenix. The Phoenix could change reality. If she gave herself to it, accessed its full power, she could save whoever she liked. She could remake all this, make it like it never happened...

"*No*," Mindee said, squeezing her hand. "The Witch made that mistake."

Jean nodded. The girl was right, she couldn't risk bringing back the Dark Phoenix for one life. Not even one so full of promise, a girl who would never finish school or start a life or wear a wedding dress...

"I couldn't have done those things anyway, Miss Grey," said Mindee. "Not really.. There is no one without the Five. It's the only way we fit. In a way, I'm sorry for you. You'll never feel that."

"But I--" Jean paused in her sifting of the girl's mind. She'd picked up an image when Mindee spoke of her sisters, and another when she mentioned their connection. She began to see that slimmest of hopes she'd been chasing...

There was little to hide on the astral plane, especially now. Mindee understood what she was planning immediately.

"Oh, no, Miss Grey! No! I couldn't!"

Jean grinned at her. "Why not?"

"But... it's wrong. Isn't it?"

"Seems only fair to me."

A bit of the glow returned to Mindee's eyes. "There's no time. I don't know if this is right. I'm scared."

"I know." In their minds, Jean brushed a hand through Mindee's hair. "I'll be with you, every step. I promise. I owe you this."

A wave of pain wracked the girl's body. Jean felt every bit of it. Only milliseconds remained to them. Mindee's whole sense was confusion.

"Is it the only way?"

"I think it is," Jean said. "Will you let me save you?"

Wearily, finally, Mindee nodded.

"There's my good girl," Jean breathed. Linking their minds together, Jean began to search the younger psychic's tormented mind for the white-hot connection of the Five-in-One. She found it and, holding tight to Mindee's essence, they plunged in together...

*This is what it's like to be reborn,* Jean thought, and in a moment it was over.

****

"Jean! Jeannie! Come back to us! C'mon back, lass! There's nothin' more ye can do!"

Back in the real world, Jean Grey gasped. She was with Moira, in the cabin, kneeling in a pool of blood. Mindee's blood. Her hands and knees were sticky with it, and the girl's body on the floor was pale and cold. A little distance away, she could hear Jamie Madrox's quiet sobs, and Rahne whispering small, comforting nothings in his ear.

Cain Marko's heavy boot fell beside her. Voice uncharacteristically gentle, he asked, "Is that it, Jeannie? The kid's gone?"

Jean looked up at her old adversary, now her friend, and gave a dazzling smile.

"Oh, no. It's not like that at all. She's playing a little joke for us. I cannot *wait* until the Slayer gets the punchline."

He shook his head. "You ain't makin' a lot of sense, Jeannie."

"He's had his shot, Cain." Jean allowed Alex to help her to her feet. "He tried his best, but Mindee isn't dead. She's sleeping. The Bible term's *Talitha cumi*."

"What's that mean?"

"Loosely translated? She's our little phoenix..."

Feeling well-pleased, Jean Grey patted the arm of the puzzled Juggernaut, turned, and left the cottage.

END

In Issue #6: "The Girl Who Would Be Phoenix"
see the other Eternity series: Uncanny X-Men, New X-Men, X-Force, & X-Factor, online now!
Next Up: Uncanny X-Men #6: "New England Mile"