X-MEN ETERNITY

Uncanny X-Men #4: "White Queen, Black King"
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 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. Most importantly, the majority of the X-Men have been scattered through space and time.

"Uncanny X-Men" is the series dealing with those left behind.

***************************************************************

The dream always ends with a kiss, and dying.

Bobby Drake finds himself at the Mansion, in costume as Iceman, watching his friends die. He bestows a farewell kiss on a grownup Jubilation Lee, then goes forth to die himself. That's how it always ends.

But the beginnings can be surprising. This time, for example. He's kneeling on the dirty pavement, surrounded by flurrying snowflakes not of his own creation. Anyone but the Iceman would be chilled to the bone, for it is winter-- Christmas time, in fact-- and he's out looking for clues. But there isn't anything left to see. Even if there might have been something, perhaps a stain of sulfur marking the passage of a teleporter, it would have been covered in short order by the snow.

"You're sure this is where it happened?"

"I saw it. I was on my way back to them, when..."

He's surprised by the voice-- not in the dream, in the dream it makes perfect sense to him, but some part of his subconscious is surprised, and he looks up...

The woman standing with him appears perfectly normal to those around her, just another holiday shopper, but Bobby recognizes the voice, and the flash of yellow eyes that goes with it.

"Mystique," he says, "are you *sure* he took them both?"

She nods. There's always something frighteningly cold about this woman-- but even in battle, he's never seen this look in her eyes. He's seen her murderous. He's never seen her want to die herself.

"It's not your fault," he says, and stands.

"The hell it's not. After what happened to Rogue, I..." Mystique catches herself, curses again. "He's taken both my children from me now."

"We don't know they're dead."

She starts to walk away. Bobby runs to catch up. He catches her, touches her arm, but doesn't know what to say. Mystique shakes him off.

"I'm not giving up. I intend to see Scott and Jean's grandkids someday."

Just when he thinks she's going to ignore him completely, Mystique stops. Doesn't look at him, but says: "They were due in June."

"We'll have them back by then."

"Will we?"

She tries to walk again, but this time he grabs her shoulder, makes her turn around and look at him.

"Hey... Raven. Come on. We need you."

"I'll be there," she says, and her eyes narrow to slits. "He's going to pay for this..."

Before Bobby can think to answer, there's a voice in his head, a familiar summons. A cry for help. They race back to the jet, him and Mystique both, and then they're in Westchester and... something happens. The middle of the dream isn't very clear, but Bobby thinks he stays behind while his colleague goes back to... her team? Mystique has a team?

Anyway, *something* happens. There's Bobby and Jubilee and... someone else, in a room. And they're doing... something, but they're not certain it will work, but then there's no time because the mansion is under attack, and then...

Then everyone dies. Then there's a kiss. Then he dies, too. And then he wakes up.

****

"Dammit!" Bobby swore, rubbing at his eyes and breathing hard. He wished he could tune his brain like a TV antennae, to get better reception. He'd been close-- so close-- to actually understanding what was going on that time. Now he was left in confusion... again.

Sighing, Bobby flicked on the light and reached into the drawer of his nightstand table for a notebook. He'd already filled several pages with scribbling. Now, working quickly, he flipped to a new page, headlined "NIGHT SIX," and scrawled as much as he could remember before it slipped away:

Winter. Christmas. The City.

Looking for sulfur. Scott's grandchild-- Kurt and Rachel??

Bobby bit his lip, remembered the conversation, and added: Rogue too? Is that why Mystique?? Mystique has a team???

Then, frowning at that, he wrote it again in caps and underscored it: MYSTIQUE HAS A TEAM???

And that... was all. He didn't remember anything else. Well, the kiss, but he'd already written "good kiss" a couple of times. The point of this journal wasn't to convince the world he was a pervert, but to piece together what had happened-- was going to happen-- to the X-Men.

Because the dream was real. Bobby was becoming convinced of that. It was too coherent, too... consistent... to just be something he'd made up. If there was one thing Bobby Drake's mind generally was not, it was consistent. So this had to be coming from somewhere else.

Precog or not, Bobby Drake was seeing the future. Or, he prayed, perhaps *a* future that could be prevented. But it was his responsibility to find a way. Bobby had never been great with responsibility. This time, he had to be.

He replaced the notebook in the drawer, using a pen to save his place. He'd be writing in there again. The question was whether he was writing fiction or non-fiction.

Fiction, he told himself. One way or another, it would turn out to be fiction.

****

Emma Frost took a deep breath and checked her reflection in a pane of glass-- not from vanity, although she possessed more than her share, but because anything less than her usual, smirking perfection would give away too much to an adversary who knew her far too well.

When she was satisfied that all the ill-gotten wealth that had gone into making her utterly stunning had not been wasted, Emma unlocked the door and stepped into the next room.

It had been a bedroom, not long ago, for one of the mansion's longterm residents, whose sketches, paintings, and charcoal drawings still lined the walls. Some part of Emma's mind always admired the man's artistic talent, even as she found his choice of subjects uninspired. He'd never even *asked* her to pose, clothed or otherwise, but he'd wasted whole reams of paper on that horrible Pryde girl...

Speaking of things horrible, the room's present occupant was not its owner. Sebastian Shaw, former Black King of the Hellfire Club, sat on the bed with hands folded and eyes half-closed. He smiled when the door clicked closed, but did not acknowledge her. Emma waited, but patience wasn't her strong suit.

"Sebastian?"

He pretended to have just noticed her. "Ah, Emma. At last. Did this room belong to one of your colleagues? Wolverine, perhaps? I always suspected the little fellow of hiding unforetold depths."

"Colossus used the room. As long as you were going to be with us for a while, I thought you might appreciate a look into a soul less bleak than your own."

"Mmm." Shaw looked sardonic; he'd perfected that look. "Obliged."

"It's of necessity quite sturdy, and we've used all manner of tricks to reinforce it. I don't suggest you try to leave, unless you favor pain."

Shaw sighed. "Your sense of hospitality is somewhat lacking of late... or do you typically lock up your guests without a word for nearly a week?"

"No," she admitted, "but I think I see the source of your confusion. The word is 'prisoner,' not 'guest.'"

"Really?" Shaw feigned surprise. "If you felt that way about it, I'm surprised you didn't lock me up in your little Hazard Room, or whatever it is you call it."

"There's more privacy here."

"To discuss our long and intimate association?"

"To kill you without interference," Emma deadpanned, "if you create a problem."

Shaw started to laugh. "Bravo, my girl, bravo. But I suspect Mr. Summers will not be so ruthless."

"Scott trusts my judgment," she said stiffly.

"That's his misfortune. I suppose you know I could bring down all sorts of repercussions upon your head. I'm not a man without influence, even in these latter days."

Emma shrugged. "I invite you to press charges. Then we'll have a lovely chat with the authorities about all *your* little secrets... assassinations, slavery, power-mongering. Don't forget, we had Sage on our side for some time. She knows you better than your own mother."

"Whom I sold long ago. What do you hear from Tessa, by the way? I can't tell you how much I've regretted our falling-out."

"A bit lost without her, Sebastian?" Emma smirked. "Good help is hard to find... particularly when it comes with a perfect brain and without scruples."

"Yes. I did prefer Tessa before she had those." Shaw steepled his fingers. "And you, as well."

Emma paced around the bed, toward the room's window, and stared out for a moment, gathering her thoughts.

"Sage is missing," she said.

"Pity. Lost in the reality shuffle, like so many others? Like, for example, Cassandra Nova?"

It took all of Emma's effort not to wince. "Her, as well. Sebastian... about that telepathic business (* from the "Astonishing X-Men" comic book, through issue 12)... I hope you don't believe I'll follow through."

"If you mean, did I take you for a woman of unshakable honor, who would keep all bargains now that the wind has shifted?" Shaw laughed. "Emma, dear, I'd be heartbroken if you did. I've always respected you so. You're nearly as self-serving as I am... and I can assure you, that takes some doing."

Emma didn't look at him. "Then I can rely on your... discretion?"

He waved a hand. "Consider it forgotten. They'd only distrust you if they knew, and in this brave new world, I prefer you as you are..."

She turned to him. "What do you think I am?"

"My credibility, of course." Shaw winked. "Do you happen to have one of those charming X-uniforms in my size?"

Emma Frost laughed out loud. "Please... tell me you've suddenly developed a sense of humor."

"Wouldn't have a use for one. No, Emma, I'm quite sincere. The Hellfire Club is in shambles, as I'm sure you must know. Tessa, Roberto Da Costa, Courtney Ross... *all* the Lords Cardinal are, in fact, among the missing. It's a power vacuum, my dear... perfect for people like us. We both know the Club has lost its way of late. Now's the time to start over."

Emma stared out at the sun. "I've no interest in being your White Queen anymore."

"I know-- that's why I came to you here." Shaw stood and crossed to the window, dangerously close to Emma. "There are others who seek to consolidate that power for themselves. Some you'd like far less than me."

"Do you think that's possible?"

"Suppose, however-- with your assistance-- I could establish an alliance? Between the remnants of the Hellfire Club and your leftover X-Men."

She turned to look at him. A strong, almost regal-looking fellow, Shaw had been lying for years with a perfectly straight face. In her youth, Emma had helped him do it. But he couldn't conceal his mind as well as his face, and Emma sensed no trickery there either...

"I should trust you because...?"

"We're old friends," said Shaw. He touched her cheek. "Besides, Emma... we both know there's trouble brewing. It's on the wind. Together, we might ride out the storm."

"Or be crushed together."

"Slain, you mean," he said.

Emma stared at him-- but Shaw's sense still betrayed no clues. She was almost tempted to turn to her diamond form and beat it out of him. If Shaw knew about the Slayer entity reported by their other teams (* most prominently in the X-Factor series), then he might know anything. He might even know what it was... or be able to help them stop it, using their combined strength to restore normalcy.

Then again, he might be bluffing. He was good at that. True to their code-names, the Lords Cardinal tended to be exquisite mental chess players.

"I'll relay your offer to Scott," she said at length.

"I'll sure you will. Oh, and tell him how happy I am for you both. I was rooting for you crazy kids all along."

Emma didn't care to acknowledge the sarcasm; she walked straight out the door. She couldn't forget the look in Shaw's eyes. The cold, calculating gleam of personal advantage. She knew that look well enough not to trust it. On the other hand, she also knew it well enough to turn it against itself. With or without his secrets, Sebastian Shaw was a dangerous man. A man with enemies.

The world had lost so many prominent mutants... Emma wondered if it might not be best served if she were to rid it of just one more, before he had a chance to do the same to her.

****

From the monitoring room in Sage's loft, Scott Summers and Jean-Paul Beaubier-- Cyclops and Northstar-- listened to the conversation with interest. Emma had persuaded them that Shaw would speak more openly to her alone. Scott had persuaded her, and Jean-Paul agreed, that it would look very much like idiocy to let the two of them have their run of the place. So the compromise was reached. They'd given Shaw a nice, long cooling-off period, and now they'd play a little good cop/bad cop.

"Pity," said Shaw's voice. "Lost in the reality shuffle, like so many others? Like, for..."

Something SQUAWKED. Jean-Paul threw down the receiver clasped to his ear and swore in Quebecois French.

"Argh, what is that noise?" he asked, even as it dissolved to static.

"Technical problem," said Scott. "Telepaths and technology don't always get along."

"Ah, yes. Tell me again why she couldn't merely relay this telepathically?"

Scott arched an eyebrow. "Would you trust her if she did?"

"Of course not."

"Well, there you are."

Jean-Paul gestured at the console. "As opposed to the brilliantly useful information we're receiving now. Tell me, Summers, how does it feel to date Nixon?"

Scott sighed. "I'm adjusting... here, it's back..."

"...Do you happen to have one of those charming X-uniforms in my size?"

Jean-Paul scoffed at that. He leaned against the wall and folded his hands. "Tell me that doesn't concern you."

Scott shushed him, waiting until they'd recorded the rest of the exchange. Then he turned in his chair. "What doesn't?"

"The missing time."

"The feed was out for less than seven seconds," Scott said. "I doubt she plotted the overthrow of the mansion in that time."

"And it doesn't strike you as even slightly unwise? The two of them, here, together? And us in such a vulnerable state?"

Scott turned away. "Emma turned her back on the Hellfire Club a long time ago. I'm not saying she's perfectly forthcoming, but she's one of us now."

"And if she isn't?" Jean-Paul pressed. "Will you do what's necessary? Will you really, Summers, throw over someone you profess to love, if the group requires it?"

"Would you?"

The man called Northstar laughed. "Irrelevant question. Even if I were straight, I don't think I'd be interested in such a skank."

"Skank?" Scott frowned. "Did you learn that word from the students, or are you just trying to update your image?"

Jean-Paul started to respond; then the door opened and Emma stepped inside. She nodded to Jean-Paul and gave Scott a peck on the cheek.

"How was I, darling?"

"Good enough," Scott said. "But I still think Shaw's got an angle we're not seeing..."

"Then it will be your job to find it. I've established the ground rules."

"Right." Scott stood, adjusted his visor, and turned for the door. "We'll give him a few minutes to think it over, and then I'll go in."

He walked out the door. The former White Queen watched him go, and Jean-Paul watched her watching from his casual pose.

When the door closed, he said, "Seven seconds."

If the words bothered Emma, she didn't show it. "I'm sorry about that. Got too close to one of the security screens. Feedback, you know."

"Certainly." Jean-Paul smiled. "What did you discuss in that time?"

"My betrayal, of course. Tonight we kill you in your sleep."

As she passed by him, Jean-Paul grabbed her arm. She glared at him; he arched an eyebrow. "I don't care a great deal about the X-Men anymore, to be honest with you, Miss Frost... but I do care about the wellfare of the students here, as well as my own. If you thought I'd be distracted so easily..."

"Do you think Scott would?" She stared until Jean-Paul released her. "He knows what I am. He knows I require a degree of... latitude."

Jean-Paul pushed away from the wall, on his way out the door. "Careful you don't hang yourself with all that rope, dear."

"Where do you think you're going?"

"To visit a sick friend," he said, and left without looking back.

****

Scott Summers was kind of looking forward to being the bad cop. Normally he'd have to play straight arrow, while someone like Logan or Remy got the fun part. He was greatly anticipating the role reversal, until the ambush came.

It started out so well. He swept into Piotr's room without knocking, managing to startle Sebastian Shaw, who was still looking out the window.

"Ah, Summers!" the man said. "And not a moment too soon. Come and have a look at..."

"I'll give the orders here, if you don't mind, Mr. Shaw. First of all, I'd like you to give me a good reason not to blast you out the window."

He fingered the firing control for his visor. Shaw glanced at him, wary at first, then shrugged.

"You'll be sorry," he said. "You know me, Summers. I can absorb any force you can direct-- which means the harder you blast me, the stronger I'll--"

Scott blasted him. Just a glancing blow, ripping the shoulder of his jacket and proceeding through the window. Shaw yelped anyway, grabbing at the wound.

"I'm familiar with your powers, Mr. Shaw," Scott said. "You've been trying to kill me since I was... how old was I? Twenty, twenty-one?"

"Has it been that long?" Shaw winced. "I hope you're happy. This jacket cost more than... wait."

He trailed off, realizing what the other mutant had just done. Scott smiled.

"Little something Henry was cooking up before he left us. This room has been flooded with low-level particles, which you can absorb like kinetic energy, but not redirect. Essentially, Shaw, you're charged up to full capacity... but completely helpless, all the same."

Shaw hissed. "That's why you left me in here for so long."

Scott nodded. Then he got in the other man's face and pushed him against the wall. "Slayer."

"Wasn't that the television program about the vampire girl...?"

WHAM-- Scott pounded him again. The older man groaned.

"Well. So this is normalcy. Don't think I care for it."

"Tell me about Slayer."

Shaw sneered at him. "You know, Summers, I liked you better when you were a conflicted idealist getting drunk in my club. Whatever happened to that side of you? Change of perspective? Or have you, perhaps, been ever so slightly whipped? Got to be careful about Emma. She'll crush a man's spirit--"

WHAM! Scott fingered his visor again. "You're really pushing your luck today, aren't you?"

Shaw grinned. "Hellfire knows many things, boy... and I *am* Hellfire."

"So was Emma. She never mentioned this."

"And that worries you." Another little throttle removed Shaw's grin, but not his venom. "I'll put your mind at ease. She never knew this. Even as an ally, I always considered Emma something less than perfectly reliable. A lesson you'd do well to--"

Scott backhanded him with a ferocity that surprised even himself. He'd always wondered, on some level, why Logan did it-- how a man could let himself get so angry as to use his power so irresponsibly, let himself give in to the beast. After the last few months, everything he'd been through from Xavier's betrayal in the Danger Room incident (* Astonishing) to the House of M, and now his missing friends and Jean again and Emma's lies and some psychopath hunting his remaining team members... now Scott thought he was beginning to understand. Suddenly he wasn't sure if all this was a game, a strategy, or maybe just an excuse to hurt a man he didn't like.

Shaw met his eyes, spat out blood, and smiled. "You're going to regret that, boy."

"Eventually, I'm sure."

"No, I meant you'll regret it right about... now!"

As he spoke, Shaw ducked. Scott caught a flicker of... something... on his peripheral vision. Then it slammed into his back and he was bowled over, the wind knocked out of him, his eyes shut tight because his visor was at a cockeyed angle.

By the time he could adjust it and find his footing, his attacker-- whoever or whatever it was-- was through the window and gone, taking Shaw with it.

****

The cab pulled up in front of Xavier's Mansion, pausing an extra second like they all did-- to boggle at the renowned mutant haven or the disembodied students playing astral catch on the front lawn or maybe just the size of the place. Then it started to pull away.

"No, please, wait!" said Annie Ghazikhanian, gesturing frantically to the cabbie. "Please-- wait here. This won't take long."

The man grumbled. He didn't like hanging around this freak show. Annie didn't blame him. Her time as a nurse here-- except for her brief and mostly blissful, if ill-fated, romance with Alex Summers, whom they called Havok-- had been one trauma after another. She'd sworn she would never come back. She didn't intend to stay long, now that she had.

For an extra ten bucks, the cabbie stayed. With her budget and her pride about equally dented, Annie took a deep breath.

"They are *not* sucking me in again," she said, and turned.

"I wouldn't be so certain, Annie. I know of your twin weaknesses for tragedy and smut-- and we here excel at both."

"Jean-Paul!" Annie looked up: in the time she'd been quibbling with the cab driver, Northstar had appeared on the front porch. Not hard for a man who was super-fast. Now he leaned in the doorframe and regarded her with that usual, smug grin.

Annie ran up and hugged him; among the denizens of the mansion, Jean-Paul was probably the truest friend she'd made. Ironic, since she'd observed that few of the other X-Men could abide his arrogance. As though anybody who cavorted freely in Spandex with the intention of saving the world had a right to talk about arrogance.

She drew back from the hug. "But wait a minute. I heard... I mean, I thought..."

"That I was kidnapped and went insane? Well, yes, a little. Nothing to concern yourself about; hardly anyone here hasn't been brainwashed at least once."

Annie scoffed. "Right. Can't imagine why I left. Speaking of which, no offense, but I never thought you'd find me."

"Ah, but I am a man of great resourcefulness."

"Plus I kind of asked you *not* to."

"Great resourcefulness. Little tact." Jean-Paul grinned. Annie laughed. "Will you come inside?"

"I..." She glanced back at the cab. "Look, what's the problem? It's not-- they're saying on the news that some of the X-Men are missing. It's not about Alex, is it? I mean, is he--"

"He's on... extended vacation," Jean-Paul said, making a face, "and well, to my knowledge."

"What about whatshername? Crazy green-hair chick-- Lorna? Is she still--"

The mutant cleared his throat. "Annie, none of this bears on why I called you. The truth is, I'd like your consultation on a patient."

"Me?" she blinked.

"Yes. As a matter of fact, my sources said you were looking into getting your medical degree now. Specializing in mutant medicine? Quite a change for a self-professed mutant-hater..."

"Disliker," Annie said, blushing.

"Is that a word?"

"And I figured... you sort of have to dance with the one that brought you. I started thinking about this while I was..." Again, she frowned. "I just started taking classes. You guys have your own private jet and a billion dollars in the bank. What can *I* do for you that someone better can't?"

Jean-Paul looked away. "The specific case is a Theresa Rourke Cassidy, daughter of one of the X-Men. She has been in a coma since a recent attempt on her life. (* in New X-Men #1) Frankly, I believe it's been a little too long. Her wounds weren't *that* severe, and I wondered..."

"You wondered...?" Annie's eyes widened. "You don't want me at all. You want Carter."

"Yes." He shuffled his feet at the mention of Annie's young, and very gifted, mutant son. "I'd been hoping, perhaps, what he did for Alex, he could do for..."

"Oh, go to hell!" Annie said, and turned back toward the cab.

He followed. "Annie, I would not ask if there was another way!"

"Let Xavier do it!"

"He's missing."

"Then the other one-- the skank who dresses in her underwear!"

Absurdly, Jean-Paul laughed. "See? Not an uncommon word." Then he sobered, catching Annie's wrist as she opened the door to the cab. "You refer to Emma Frost. I don't trust her."

"Good for you," Annie said, "and good-bye."

"But..."

That was when a shadowy, long-limbed monster came crashing through the upstairs window, carrying a man, and followed by a crimson optic blast that incinerated the ground just in front of the cab. The creature it was tracking hit the dirt a few meters away and took off toward the gate at a bound.

The cabbie cursed and took off in reverse with a squeal of tires, with Annie waving her arms at him.

"Wait, no-- you get used to that! Anyway, you can't just... you're leaving me here, aren't you? I don't believe he's leaving me here..."

"Get inside!" Jean-Paul said, shoving her toward the entrance as he took off after the intruder. A moment later, Alex's brother Scott nearly ran into her, on his own way after the creature.

"Annie...!" he exclaimed, then shook off his surprise. "Did you happen to see...?"

"Big guy, scary black glow. He went thataway. Jean-Paul's after him."

Scott cursed and turned in the direction she'd pointed, blasting away with his optics. He hustled after them, leaving Annie alone on the porch, shaking her head.

"I'm not getting sucked back in," she repeated, although he had a sneaking suspicion she already had been.

****

Northstar hit the running creature at pretty near his top speed, sending it and its prey sprawling against the outer gates. It righted itself and turned, giving him a glimpse of strange, depthless eyes, but before he could hit it again, it poured itself like a liquid-- *though* the space between the bars.

"It's about time," said Sebastian Shaw, recovering on the near side of the gate. "If you people hadn't left me defenseless, I could have..."

Jean-Paul ignored him; but before he could approach for another blow, the creature reached *through* the bars of the gate, grabbed Shaw, and pulled him through after it.

He swore again from shock, heard the thing almost-laughing in his brain, and sent out a concentrated burst of light. The shadows around the creature dispersed for a second, and Jean-Paul got a glimpse of-- of *almost* a man, and then Jean-Paul was crashing through the gate and streaking toward it and...

BLINK.

****

Scott Summer's optic blast sizzled through the space where the creature had just been-- along with Shaw and Northstar. He pulled up short, for the three of them had just vanished.

Scott felt his jaw hanging open; it was hard to say which part of the preceding sequence had astonished him most.

"It blinked," Scott murmured. "It *phased* him, and then it blinked..."

By the time he reached the gates, there was nothing left to see. Nothing but some scuffs in the dirt and pieces of twisted metal told that there had been a struggle; absolutely nothing at all told of the whereabouts of one X-Man, one long-time enemy, and one... thing. He was just about to turn back toward the mansion...

Reality went POW! and then Jean-Paul reappeared, flying backward about as fast as he'd traveled forward. He slammed into Scott and they hit the ground hard.

When he could breathe again, Scott spat out a mouthful of dirt. "I thought we'd lost you there."

"Surely, Summers, you are aware that some people find me unpalatable. I don't think it cared for my light powers. We rather... bounced off each other."

Lying flat on his back and staring up at the sky, Scott could only manage a grunt. "Did you hear the sound it made?"

"Blink," said Jean-Paul immediately.

"Correct. By what I'm sure is complete coincidence, I happen to know a young lady who goes blink. Shall we have a word with her?"

"By all means," the French Canadian said, "let's..."

They found Clarice Ferguson, the aforementioned Blink, sitting by the door to the Danger Room with Jubilation Lee, who as usual was holding forth with every possible thought that might come into her head:

"So is there a Universe where I'm like Queen or Empress or something? Because I think that would be awesome. The Jubilationverse, always in style and only tres, *tres* cool people allowed, you know? The Church of Jubilee would be a giant shopping mall, and..."

Clarice cleared her throat. "To my knowledge, it's never happened."

"Aww."

"Hey, it's a big Multiverse." The purple youth considered. "Hopefully not *that* big, but big..."

Scott cleared his throat from the end of the corridor. "How long have you girls been here?"

"Like WAY too long," said Jubilee. "Bobby's been in the Danger Room all morning. I dunno if he's developed multiple personalities or just gotten old really fast, but omigosh he's practicing like all the time now. I'd swear he's actually interested in improving himself. What's up with that?"

"I don't know," said Clarice, "but I wish he'd improve a little less. It takes the Danger Room another hour just to warm up after he's used it."

"If I didn't know better, I'd say he was sneaking a girl in there." Jubilee grinned. "But of course he's not 'cause after our *totally* deep conversation the other day (* last issue), I think he's saving himself for me, which would be tres romantic if he wasn't, y'know, a geekazoid..."

"Yes, yes," snapped Jean-Paul, annoyed, "but you have *both* been here the *entire* time?"

"You weren't separated?" Scott pressed.

Both young women frowned at them. Clarice said, "Please, d'you think you can get away from this one for a *second* when her mouth's running?"

"That's right, I--" Jubilee glared. "Hey!"

"What's the problem?" asked Blink, as she stood up and stretched. She certainly *appeared* to have been in place for a while.

"We just encountered the Slayer," said Jean-Paul, stroking his chin thoughtfully.

Scott said, "He went, and I quote, 'blink.'"

Clarice's eyebrows jumped up her forehead. "Blink? You're sure?"

Jubilee shrugged. "So what's the big deal, guys? There's a lot of teleporters."

"Yeah, but the blink sound is pretty me-specific." Clarice frowned. "I don't know what to tell you. I've been all through the Multiverse, and the only one who could copy my powers would have been Cal Rankin-- Mimic. But I can't imagine he's your Slayer either. In fact, I'll personally vouch that he's not."

"And that's helpful, young woman," said Jean-Paul, "because we know ever so much about *you*..."

Scott held up a hand, not wanting a fight now. "Rogue could do it... but she's never been in the right dimension to touch Blink."

"Not *ours*," said Jubilee. "This guy's got a hand in a lot of Universes."

"Good point," Scott said. "He phases, too... I wonder if he somehow uses our powers against us, or..."

The intercom went off. Jean-Paul touched the switch. "Yes?"

"Uh, guys... this is Annie Ghazikhanian. Remember me? Well, um, I'm still down here in the foyer, and that guy who the shadow guy was carrying..."

"Sebastian Shaw?"

"That's right," said the nurse. "Anyway, he's back now, but without his friend. And he's all kinds of dead."

The four X-Men stared at each other for a moment. Shaw had been an adversary for so long that it was almost like losing a member of the family-- in a completely warped and twisted kind of way. Nobody knew what to say.

Annie's voice continued, "Oh, and if you people think I'm bringing my son back into this environment? You're freaking *insane*..."

****

"I... don't believe it," said Emma Frost, studying the face she remembered so well, now pale and staring up from a cot in the infirmary. "I've seen Shaw tackle threats that were so... To die like this... Even he deserved better."

She looked away, as Annie Ghazikhanian covered the Black King's face with a sheet. She couldn't even look at the other X-Men, now assembled around the bed. She'd wished this man dead just hours before, but...

"In a way, we kinda helped kill him, didn't we?" asked Jubilee. "Taking his power..."

Scott shook his head from the other side of the room. "Shaw's kinetic energy power wouldn't have helped him much. This thing isn't..."

"It couldn't have hurt," said their junior member, and nobody had an answer for that.

James Proudstar-- Warpath-- stood a little way off from the group, in his habitual place near Theresa Cassidy's bedside. "Ask me, the man got what he deserved. You people didn't have the... privilege... of knowing him the way me and Emma did, back in my Hellion days."

"He's right," said Emma, steeling herself. "I'd love to stop and shed tears, but we have other things to concentrate on..."

Scott turned on her. "Like the fact that yours secrets died with him?"

Emma took a step aback; she'd been too wrapped up in her own thoughts to scan Scott, but now that she did, she was almost frightened by the degree of his anger. The whole team had to know he was furious; always before, when they'd quibbled over something, it had been in private. Now he was dressing her down in front of them. She stammered a response--

Bobby Drake said, "Scott, I don't think it's..."

"No, it's the perfect time, Bobby." Scott deliberately crossed the room, staring at Emma the whole way. "You lied to me about Jean (*issues 2-3). Now you've lied again, and a man is dead. Shaw said you didn't know what he knew; but Shaw also thought he was smarter than you. He wasn't. So how long have you known about the Slayer, Emma? How long have you known this was coming?"

Emma flushed crimson, suddenly tempted to mind-blast the whole room. "That's absurd, Scott! I would never endanger--"

"No? Then what were you talking to Shaw and his friends about, before the House of M?"

"Before? I..."

Scott reached into his uniform pocket and pulled out a small disk. Emma reeled as though struck, while he continued:

"I had a second listening device in the room when you talked to Shaw." Their team leader paused to receive a grudgingly respectful glance from Northstar. "I'm sorry, but after recent events, I'm sure you understand, I just couldn't take you on faith, anymore. So what were you talking about, Emma? What did Shaw know that was so important, he had to be killed before he could tell us?"

"I can explain everything," she said. The words sounded weak to her own ears.

"I'm sure. Why don't you get started?"

"I--" Emma's pride kicked in, and she tossed her head. "No, I don't believe I will. Not now, not here, and not like this."

Jean-Paul cleared his throat. "That sound behind you, Miss Frost, would be all the slack snapping out of your rope. Now I suggest you move quickly, to avoid the noose."

"Go to the devil," said Emma, and she sent a mental bolt along with it, so that he winced as from a headache.

"Hey!" said Annie. "Who do you think you--"

Bobby said, "There's no need to--"

Scott waved them both to silence. "One last time, Emma. What did the Hellfire Club know? What did *you* know? Don't lie to me again."

She appraised him with cool eyes. "I have nothing to say."

"Then I'd say it's over."

"Us?" Emma laughed. "Oh, at *least*..."

"Not just us. You, with the X-Men. You're not welcome here anymore, Emma. I think it's best if you leave."

It took a moment before she could even form words after that one. "Perhaps you've forgotten, darling, it's my money that funds this little sideshow of yours..."

"Then we'll get our funding elsewhere," Scott said, absolutely stonefaced. "Go ahead and sue. But these people won't follow you without me... and I've just been betrayed by you for the last time."

"You b------," she said, with relish. "If you think you're going to..."

Bobby cleared his throat. "Guys... this is really not a good--"

Scott glared at him. "Choose, then, Bobby. You're the field leader. Who's in charge here?"

"I..." The Iceman studied the floor. "That's not even a question, Scott, you know that. But I don't think--"

"Then say goodbye to Emma."

The two men locked horns; Bobby wasn't even in Scott's league for stubbornness or willpower, and he knew it. As for the rest of the room-- Jean-Paul heartily approved, and Annie sided with him. Proudstar had his own reasons to distrust Emma Frost, and he wouldn't take a course that would separate him from Theresa, his wounded love. Clarice Ferguson looked blank, like a woman caught in the middle of a family squabble she knew nothing about. Only Jubilee appeared conflicted, and her voice didn't carry enough weight to matter now.

Emma cleared her throat, smiled her best smile, and said to Scott: "Six months from now, when your friends are dying for want of an experienced telepath and you're back in your safe relationship with that comfortable little cow, Jean... remember what you cast aside today."

And she walked out. While barely holding back tears, she telepathically monitored the room behind her: People hemmed and hawed and shifted uncomfortably, until Annie cleared her throat and said something about phoning her son.

Bobby said quietly, "Dude, you are kind of a b------."

"Shut up, Bobby." Then, turning to Northstar: "The good of the team. Satisfied, Jean-Paul?"

"Almost too well," said the French Canadian, and he excused himself. Unnoticed by all, Jubilee followed him out the door.

****

Jubilation Lee found Emma Frost sitting alone in a corner of the empty Danger Room, her eyes closed and her chin propped up on her hands. Wordlessly, Jubilee stepped into the room and sat down beside her.

*Leave,* Emma's voice said in her mind.

*No,* Jubilee sent back, and stayed. Emma quirked one eyelid, but said nothing. A few moments passed.

"You know what I miss?" Jubilee said. "You, uh, don't mind me talking out loud, do you?"

*Yes, terribly.*

"Didn't think so." The girl grinned. "I was saying, I miss the old days, back in Massachusetts. I miss Sean."

"Yes," Emma said, very quietly.

"I always thought he had a thing for you, y'know."

The White Queen smirked. "Sean always loved Moira. I always loved myself."

Jubilee let that pass. They sat quietly for another few moments.

"I never..." Emma cleared her throat. "I never had much chance to tell you... how sorry I was about Angelo."

Jubilee winced, surprised by how much just the mention of his name could still hurt. A deep breath later, she said, "He was... special. Ev, too."

"I failed them," said Emma Frost. "I failed all of you. You were right to leave when you did."

Jubilee stared off into space. "Stuff happens, Emma..."

"Is that Logan's philosophy?"

"Yup," she said. "'Cept he's a little more descriptive. He's right, though. This kind of life... you can't predict what'll happen to us. You did your best to turn us into heroes."

Emma laughed bitterly. "I did my best to turn you into copies of myself... half a dozen miniature White Queens and Kings to turn loose on the world. Is it any wonder you suffered?"

"*No*," said Jubilee, gripping the other woman's wrist so hard as to bruise it. "That's *wrong*. Maybe you did that to the Hellions, but I was there for Gen-X, okay? We screwed up, sometimes big, but don't you dare tell me we weren't heroes. Don't *dare*. I *remember*, Emma. Do you?"
"Too well," she said, and wrenched her arm away.

"Then suck it up, okay? Paige, Jono, Sean... yeah, Monet too... if you ask me, those are pretty good people. If there's anything or anybody out there who ever balances the cosmic scales and judges if our lives were worth a damn, they're the ones who'll speak for you. Who cares what anybody else thinks? We're still in the game; we still have a shot to bring them home. But if you can't brush off a few hurt feelings and help them, maybe you're not the same woman who taught me."

"I'm not." Emma shook her head. "I thought I could change then... be something I wasn't. I have been so angry... running from myself. But anger burns itself out... and I am so tired, Jubilee. I can't deny it any longer. I am never just Emma. I am always the White Queen."

"Sure," said Jubilee, half-smiling. "The question is... are you the White Queen of the Hellfire Club... or the White Queen of the X-Men?"

"According to Scott?"

"According to yourself."

Their eyes met. "I don't know yet. But I am very... proud of you, Jubilation. Have I told you that?"

"Must have slipped your mind."

Emma climbed to her feet, all at once, as though arriving at a sudden decision. She offered Jubilee a hand up. "I need your help. Will you come with me?"

"Where to?"

"Call it a surprise."

Jubilee arched an eyebrow. "You've just been kicked off the team, remember?"

"I had noticed, yes."

"But... being an X-Man's like my life's goal. It's the best thing that ever happened to me. You're asking me to just... leave, just take off with a person who no offense, I kinda don't know if I trust myself-- without even buying a clue first. Why would I do that?"

Emma considered. "Do it as a favor... for an old friend from Massachusetts."

A beat passed. Emma's hand hung in the air.

"Okay," said Jubilee, and she took the hand.

****

"Are you absolutely certain this is safe?" Annie Ghazikanian asked the next day, for at least the twentieth time. For the twentieth time, Jean-Paul Beaubier nodded. "And you really think this might be connected to the... the Slayer thing?"

"I don't know," said Jean-Paul. "But we want to be sure."

"Yeah. So you said."

Scott's grim attitude had finally impressed upon Annie the importance of learning whatever they could about this threat. She had agreed to let her son scan Theresa Cassidy, upon the twin promises that: A) it would only take five minutes and then they could leave forever, and B) there would be a telepath on hand at all times in case anything even smelled dangerous. With the expulsion of Emma Frost, who had left that morning with Jubilee in tow, it would be Phoebe Cuckoo performing the honors.

So, with her and the rest of the team looking on, Carter Ghazikanian approached Theresa's bedside.

"It's okay, Terry," James Proudstar whispered, brushing red hair away from her brow. "We just have a friend here who's gonna take a look and see why you've been asleep so long..."

Carter took Theresa's hand in his own. "I like her, Mom. She's nice."

"That's good, honey," Annie said. "Can you... can you see a thread there? Like you could with Alex, that time?"

"Yeah..." he said, frowning in concentration. "I think I... wow."

The boy was silent for a moment. It fell to Bobby Drake to prompt: "Wow?"

"Mom," said Carter, stepping away from the bed, "why is the lady in her mind blue?"

Annie, like the rest of them, didn't know what to say.

****

A few minutes later, Scott Summers-- via a psychic cord provided by two juvenile telepaths-- found himself in a dark space inside Theresa Cassidy's mind, facing the last person he'd ever expected to see there: The assassin who'd felled her, Raven Darkholme, a.k.a. Mystique.

"Hello, X-Men," said Mystique. "I'm sorry to have to do it this way. I'm leaving this message via a telepathic friend. They tell me it'll be triggered as soon as you think to have one of your own Psi's deep-scan her. That shouldn't take long, right? I hope you don't think I'm so inept as to let *both* my targets off without a lethal wound."

"Silly us," Scott said, though he didn't think the implanted image could respond to him.

Mystique grinned. "Well, I'll be honest-- Proudstar just surprised the hell out of me (* in issue #1). He's tough, that one. Your little Siryn here, I chose not to kill. I had to do it carefully, because I don't know when he's watching me.

"Immediately after the House of M, I was contacted by an... entity of some kind, calling itself the Slayer. It's been my employer since-- not in the sense of paying me, you understand. But it's told me what would happen to Rogue if I didn't, and I'm inclined to believe it. This thing's power is... impressive."

She hesitated, yellow eyes almost looking through Scott. "It wants me to kill all of you-- but I don't think it *really* does. It's turned down about eight suggestions I had for-- no offense, killing you the easy way. It even left some obvious allies of yours, like Jubilation Lee, off the kill list. I don't know why. All I know is, it wants things done in a very specific pattern... it wants me to start a fight. Well, I'm inclined to do so. But maybe not in the way it expects."

Scott watched and nodded, wishing he could ask Mystique any of the million questions running through his mind.

"I'm sure you have a lot of questions," Mystique said. "Frankly, so do I. Maybe we can find a few of our answers together. When you receive this message, Theresa Cassidy will wake up. She'll know how to contact me. I hope I'll be hearing from you."

"How do we know...?" Scott murmured.

"Oh, in case you're wondering how you know this isn't a trap, you don't. The truth is, I'm not promising you anything. It may even be that I'll have to follow through and kill you-- you understand, it's a maternal instinct thing. I'm not on any side except the one that can bring back Rogue.

"But I know you want that as much as I do. I don't know what it wants. I intend to find out. I'll be in touch."

Mystique smiled brilliantly-- and then the world around Scott seemed to spin, and suddenly--

****

--suddenly Theresa Cassidy gasped and awoke. Then she SCREAMED. Every bit of glass in the infirmary shattered, along with Scott's eardrums.

"Terry!" Proudstar exclaimed, recovering first. "I don't believe it..."

"Jimmy! Where...?"

"Easy there," Annie said to the young woman, while checking her vitals. "Just rest. You're among friends."

Proudstar grabbed Scott's arm. "What the hell did you do in there, Cyke?"

"Had a conversation," he said. "We may have an ally we didn't expect."

"Who? Mystique? You're kidding."

Scott just shrugged. Proudstar swore like the warrior he was. Off to the side and unnoticed by the others, Bobby Drake mouthed the words: 'Mystique has a team.'

"It's really happening," he murmured, and left the Infirmary shaking his head.

END

In Issue #5: "Road Trip"
See the other Eternity series: New X-Men, X-Force, X-Factor, & eXcalibur, online now!
Up Next: New X-Men #4: "Beauty and the Beast"