=========================== Generation X #9 ... To Boldly Go Written by Lee & Andy Editor: Marysia =========================== DISCLAIMER: This is a project of the X-Writers. We have neither asked nor been given permission by Marvel Comics to do this. They get to get all their rights and we get to keep ours, but they have the copyright, now, don't they? Don't bother sueing us. We can barely afford college, like we'd have something extra? Ha. WARNING: This is a story. This is only a story. Had it been a recounting of issues from real life, spandex would be in style. NOTE: This story may contain cuss words, questionable morals, killing, death, blatant acts of kindness, brief scenes of nudity, kissing, friendship, angst, original ideas, risky business, and all sorts of thought provoking questions regarding the cosmic powers and our unique advantages in becoming higher than our base animalistic selves. You may be inspired to write your own works of art and break free of the chains of Society to let your mind go free. This story ma even win a Noble Peace Prize, bringing warring factions of estranged brothers and sisters to a long needed era of peace. =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-- The Frost Island Another dawn, another day. Or was it the other way around? Another day, another dawn? No. Another day, another ... oh, forget it, Jubes. Words ain't never been your strong point. "Lee! Hey, Lee, get over here. It's your turn to get the firewood." Jubilee sighs. Great, Jubes, how did this happen again? You were in the best mutant team in the world. You were having a ball. You thought you needed more training?! You did this to yourself? You can't even sleep in late any more. "Sigh." C'est la vie. "Yeah, yeah, I'm coming. Keep your pants on." "I wasn't planning any different," Everett said with a smile as Jubilee came close. A semi-folded sleeping bag was quickly being finished, and three buckets of water, for the morning porridge, were waiting by the fire pit. His look turned into something different, and he asked, "You okay?" Between the tone of voice and the look, he seemed very concerned. "Yeah. Why?" Jubilee asks, curiously. He shrugged. "You just don't seem ... I don't know. Happy?" The sleeping bag was tossed into his tent, folded and forgotten. There was no response for a long moment. Jubilee moved over to her tent and then paused. One hand moved aside the tent flap. "I don't know," she answered honestly. Everett nodded and moved around to the campfire to put the last couple of logs on. "Want to talk about it?" He didn't look at Jubilee at that moment, sensing, somehow, that she would find it difficult to talk, and even more difficult if she thought he was pressuring her. More than difficult, he though, impossible was more like it. Another long silence. There was no shuffling, though, so he knew she hadn't left. "Sure. Maybe just for a bit." She moved over to the campfire and stood next to him, staring at the pitifully small fire. They were both letting the silence run its' course. "I don't like it here. It's pointless. I want to go to a 7-11 and grab myself a Big Gulp. I wanna get a Quarter Pounder, or a burrito, or some- thing. I just don't like it here," she repeats. Everett nods wisely. "Yeah. It's hard to get used to sometimes. I know when my parents first took me camping, it was scary." She scoffs, but he continues. "Not that I'm saying you're scared. I'm just saying that this is ... a lot different than what we signed up for. The camping is different, sure, but it's being in an unfamiliar place, for me." Her hands eased out of their pockets, and she crossed her arms across her chest, almost as if hugging herself. "Yeah. That's it," she said, a dawning respect for Everett evident in her voice. Sometimes, timing is everything, and Everett knew that at this time, he'd best back off before she got skittish. So, he looked at the girl at his side and demanded, "Now, go get the firewood. How do you expect me to cook with out a fire?" His words drew a response from the perpetual hunger in her. "Oh, hey, can't have you not cooking!" With a lighter step, she walked off into the woods surrounding the camp. A South Pacific Island "Oh, Mondo, isn't this just the best place in the world. Here I am, with you, with the glorious dawn, and nothing to mar the beauty." Mondo looked over to the young lady sitting next to him on the sandy beach and smiled. "It's nice," he said, in his own understated way. Cordelia looked over to the young man sitting next to her on the sandy beach and grimaced. "Just nice? Just nice?" she asked, incredulously. "This is just ... I don't know. I'm speechless." Her arm swung wide, encompassing the whole of the scene before them. "This," she began, "This is freedom. This is those 'little things' people live for." "It's very nice," Mondo amended. She glanced sidelong at her soul mate, friend, confidant. And though she tried, she just couldn't get the fire into her words. It was always so hard with him. Speech and debate came easily to her, just like calmness and harmony came to him. "All right, all right. You're right. It's nice." "*Very* nice," Mondo corrected. "Sigh. Yes, *very* nice." Her cheshire cat grin spread across her face. "It's so nice I'm going to go have a dip." She jumped up and ran towards the shore, not wasting a single moment in her trek to the ocean. When she reached the slightly chill water, she gasped, delighted, and continued on until the water was up to her waist. Water sprayed in all directions as she splashed and swam further out. Mondo smiled. New York "It isna yer fault, Charlotte. In fact, it makes me verra glad to have had this time t'talk wit' ye after so long. Even under such circumstances. T'anks fer taking the time out o' yuir busy schedule an' havin' dinner wit' me last night an all." Charlotte sighed. The cold drizzle of the rain plastered her bangs to her forehead, and she felt very much like a drowned rat. "I'm so sorry, Sean, that I called you out here for nothing. I really thought I needed your help but Warren... I really don't want to talk about it any more. It's over." "Nae, nae, lass, don't be worrying yuirsel' over it," Sean interrupted. "Did me good tae get out o' the house a wee little bit. They're a big handful, those kids." He smiled, looking less like the daft professor his children took him to be, and more like the confident, well travelled man of strength and intrigue. Charlotte couldn't imagine kids being a handful for this man. "Anyway," he continued, "'tis a pleasure t'see ye again, Charlotte. Tis not like the old days, when we saw each other at least once a month." He looked at her with reproach. "Ye need t' be comin' out t' the Academy on one o' yuir days off. I'm sure Emma will loan ye the jet." She shook her head. "Emma? Right." She sighed again. "I don't know, I'd hate to impose." She talked right over his protests. "I know, Sean. You know what? I'll think about it. No, really, I will." An unbidden smile crossed her face. "I'll give you a call next time I have a few days off." Sean nodded. "Good. I'll be holdin' ye to yuir word, now." A cab pulled up then, and they said their final farewells. Without a backward glance, each went their separate way -- Sean back to the Xavier Academy for Gifted Students, and Charlotte back to her apartment building to get ready for another day on the job. Another day without her son. (see UXM #329) He genuinely hoped that she would call him; he missed her, as he missed many of the old friends he hadn't seen for too long a time. With a rueful shake of his head, he made himself promise to fix that. The Port Authority, New York Emma sat still in her Ferrari waiting for Bobby Drake. Artie and Leech talked quietly, silently in Artie's case, behind her. The past three days had been enlightening at worst, a godsend at best. She had not gone to the X-Men's mansion. Her telepathy had told her that there was trouble there, trouble that she did not want to become involved in especially when she had the children with her. In the days following the demise of her Hellions and her subsequent catatonia, she had been a bundle of nerves, though no one could have known. Her control over her mind and body was flawless; but, inside, she was afraid -- for herself, her new students, the rest of her old students, the Hellfire Club. Of course, what was debilitating fear for others was easily managed by her. In fact, she had grown so desensitised to the things that could scare to death another person that it no longer bothered her. So, being without fear, totally and completely, was a rare experience for Emma, and therefore one to be treasured. At just that moment a young man come around the corner. He nearly plowed into her car in his exuberance, careening around the corner, a large suitcase clutched in one hand. So, it came to pass that Bobby Drake, Iceman (as he is known to a few), and Emma Frost, the White Queen (as she prefers to be called by any but her closest friends or students), met again. This time, hopefully, under more amicable circumstances. The Frost Island "Angelo and Jubilee! Fearless Survival Team Extraordinaire! You build it, we survive it! And, if you act now, we'll throw in a free set of steak knives. All this *and* the pressure cooker for only $19.95. That's right! Just $19.95. But quick, act now. Quantities are limited, and supplies are running out!" "Oh, shut up, chica." Jubilee grinned broadly as she stood atop the boulder. "But, why?! We're gonna ace this puppy. It's Miller Time!" Smirking, and not being able to hide it, Angelo moved closer to the boulder. He carefully skirted the edge of the cliff side; though he was a good ten feet away, he didn't feel comfortable up there. "Right, Lee." With a careful shove, he scooted Jubilee over. "Well, if we're going to do so good, we've got to vamanos right now. It's already past noon. What did that loco teach say? We could make it by noon manana?" She nodded. "Yeah, though I highly Doubt it, with a big capital D. We must be ... 50 miles away! And it ain't all in a straight line. I mean, look at that." They both involuntarily glanced at the mountain range in front of them. The peaks must be over a thousand feet into the air, and it was all at a near forty-five degree angle. More or less. But the important thing was that both Angelo and Jubilee, city folk born and bred, believed so. Again involuntarily, Jubilee winced. "It ain't gonna be pretty." "Yeah. No kidding." *whap* A strand of skin extended at a high velocity and wrapped around the strap of his backpack. A little concentration, a little flexing of the epidermis, and ... got it. Angelo's lips lifted slightly at one corner, pulling his mouth into a wry, prideful smile. "Well, it no be gettin' any smaller. Vamanos!" He gamely threw the small field pack onto his shoulders and settled in. A faint, whispering memory threaded its way into his mind; while he began to pick his way down the game trail, his thoughts wandered to that morning at breakfast. - - - - "You've been training here for three days, and you know enough now to be able to survive any basic situation. You can find food in a forest, you know how to start a fire ... and you know how to do this without using your powers." Jack eyed his gathered students with a no-nonsense look that didn't succeed in cowing any of them. Angelo even snickered, slightly, not really finding the teach's words funny, simply doing it for effect and 'cause, in a way, he was expected to. He and the rest of his team mates had formed a circle around the campfire, some still holding their plates, others finished with their food, one just relaxing and staring up at the sky. There was a certain sense of anticipation in the air. "Today is the day you prove yourself," Jack said, echoing the thoughts in Angelo's mind so closely that the young boy almost visibly started. "You're going to be given the chance to find your way back to camp, using all your skills, from an unknown point on the island. You'll be blindfolded, of course, and then Mallory," That was the pilot, Angelo remembered, and not too bad looking, either, "will take us up in the chopper. I'll be setting you down at different points on the island, and the test begins there." A grim smile cracked his weathered face. "And, don't worry about emergencies. We have a very high-tech communications array that will inform us here and at the base of any unusual activities. Of course," he made some sort of noise at that point, and Angelo realised with no little bit of amazement that it was Jack's idea of a chuckle, "unusual will be according to *my* definition." Clearing his throat, Jack hobbled over to six full packs near his tent. "You'll each be carrying one pack; all essentials can be found in there. You get to add the clothes, but other than that, that's all you're bringing with you." Jubilee, with typical timing, groaned. "No Walkman?!" Everett glared -- what's up with Ev? -- at Jubilee and actually scoffed. "No Walkman, Jubes. This is serious." *Not 's if yer'd 'ave yer Walkman with yer if ye were actually stuck in the middle uv nowhere.* Chamber mind-spoke. Angelo shook his head. All bad attitude, that one. Not like he was any poster-chico for Pleasantness, but he didn't look at life like it was only one big torture scene from a bad hacker movie. Knowing she was outnumbered, and knowing no one would voice their support even if they did agree with her, she gave up the lost cause. Jack just smiled and continued with his safety monologue. Boooring, Angelo thought, and he winced as he realised that he said it with the Jubilee-inflection and every- thing. Damn, that chica was rubbing off on him. Next thing he knew, he'd be wearing yellow. A shudder passed through his body. "The six of you will be split into three teams of two each. In each, one will be designated the leader, and the other the navigator. During our next training session, these roles will be reversed. You'll have until noon, the day after tomorrow. That's two days. Even if you get lost," Jack continued, "you should be able to make it by then. If not, we'll come looking for you." His eyes narrowed as he caught those of each of the students, impressing the next words upon them. "You better pray we don't have to do that." "Now, let's get this camp cleaned. Mallory should be here by then." He stood there, hands crossed over his chest and feet shoulder-length apart. Ready for action. Even a mutiny of kids. - - - - Angelo smiled at the thought of Mallory. Now, there was a senorita who turned heads. His thoughts carefully tip toed around those of another blond haired, blue eyed woman... no... girl. Jubilee yelled behind him. "WHOA! Rockslide!" she cried out, all excitement and no concern or sense of morality. With an acrobatic skill that he envied, she slid straight from point A to point C, ignoring point B and the switchback. The shortest possible route was always the best for her. He cursed and dodged out of the way of a basketball sized rock, one hand extending to the ground to balance himself. The rocks underneath his feet settled, and soon Jubilee was right in front of him. "Awesome, huh?!" "Say, something like that." She arched an eyebrow and muttered something along the lines of 'what a wet rag' before scooting down the trail, thereby taking the lead. Only silence came from him, though. His thoughts were suddenly distracted by his hand. 'My skin,' he thought, his eyes staring hard enough at his hand to look through it. 'Who am I kidding? It don't matter if it's Miss America or the girl next door. Nobody ... nada ... I'm a freak. A real Circus freak.' His feet shuffled along the trail as he moved after Jubilee. 'Freak,' his mind whispered to him. 'Ain't no one ever going to be able to look past that, Angelo.' 'I'm going to be alone.' 'Forever.' - - - - A South Pacific Island Murphy's Law, it is. I'm sure. See, we were presented with this killer assign'. Basically a recon' mission. The two of us, both males, late 30's and balding (well he is, anyway). Slide right in, take some pics and make some reports back to HW on the Big Green Walkie Talkie (press the red button to speak -- depress to be spoken to) and basically enjoy ourselves. Right, cause, see, see, we weren't being assigned to some cheap city, or out in the suburbs or anything boring like the norm, no -- this was straight outta the brochures. Tropical islands. Well, *a* tropical island, 'least. Sent to check out the info on one bloke and report back, that's it. Pictures. News. All that swing. So it sounds perfect, right? Well, then the problems started. Whatever could go wrong, went wrong, and whatever couldn't go wrong ended up just kicking us inna ass, anyway. Apparently, this island that the guy we were sent to investigatewas on, this island he was living on, was real small. And isolated. So small, in fact, that to risk camping out on the island might cause a bit of a disturbance, which they couldn't have. So we ended up needing to spy on him from the other direction -- out at sea. Hey! Okay, well, it's a set-back, but a minor one, right? I mean ... sure, so we wouldn't be on a tropical island under the sun, basking in the green glory of tourists. But, instead, we'd be out on -- hey, dig this - maybe a cruise boat! Sure, take a long, slow cruise around this island, take pictures with a high-powered camera ... far enough out to look like your normal Royal Caribbean, but in truth be a front for covert operations. Sounds logical, right? Well, at least, it did to us. Still, we hadn't figured in the cost of this high-powered photography equipment, or the cost of the radio system we were going to use to report back to HQ. When that was deducted from the budget of the mission, well, we didn't quite have much cash to spend -- and certainly not enough to blow on a cruise ship to take out and about while peering in on our "target". So we end up sharing a fishing canoe and making like local fishermen. Long canoe, some blankets, food and the reconnaissance equipment. And bad 70's music playing from a beat-up tape deck on the bottom of the canoe. - - - - The first one leant forward over one side of the canoe, tilting it slightly as he used a pair of high-powered binoculars. The second one, currently busying himself with an invigorating round of fishing, jerked his head up. "Hey! Hey, Charlie! Stupid, man, watch it -- scaring the fish." Charlie looked back with a slight sneer on his face. He was the brains of the operation, it was readily clear. Which wasn't actually saying much, other than that his partner, Max, had less of a wit than Richard Nixon, who's dead. "Max. Put the goddamn fishing pole down, toss it off the goddamn boat for all I care, and help me 'ere. Take some pictures. Make yourself goddamn useful." Max glared at Charlie's back as the latter turned, once again facing the tropical beach on which their "target" currently reclined. Grabbing the camera with a sharp, heavy hand from his side, he lifted it up and adjusted the massive focus lens to bear down on the beach. Slowly he moved the camera along the shore, scanning it for signs of -- ah, there he is. Large guy. Very large. But, as they focussed ... a bit ... more ... oh. He's not exactly muscular, just rather large. Reclining back on a lawn chair out on the hot sand, apparently at ease with the scene around him. Sitting by his side, cross-legged, was a young lady; quite the looker, actually, in Max's opinion. Max sighed, clicked the big black button next to his fore- finger once -- the shutter snapped shut, in a spiral way, and trapped an image. Take another one, *tlick*, and ... another .... *tlick* .. and ... err ... "JESUS!" Charlie shouted, pulling down on Max's forearm and bringing the camera down low with it. "IDIOT! Don't you know you're supposed to tilt the camera down a bit so the sun doesn't reflect in the lens? He looked up! He saw us! You -- .... *christ*!" Picking up the large Walkie Talkie in one hand, he thumbed the red button and spoke, "Hey, One, this is Two, over." **crackle** "One here. Everything *shrack* right?" "Err ... sort of. It's all, eh, under control. Target is," Charlie pulled the binoculars to his eyes, "heading back from the beach. Over." Max lowered the camera quietly, and glanced back at the shore. Sure enough, the target had looked up when the sun glared off the lens -- and there was an odd look in his eyes. Charlie was saying something behind him, but Max was lost in his own thoughts. ---------------------- A South Pacific Island Mondo pursed his wide lips slightly, uncrossing both legs in one wide motion. He leant forward in thought, taking a position like 'The Thinker', his fist beneath his large, dark chin. "You see that?" Cordelia spoke next to him, looking up. "Of course." "Weird," she said, and hugged her legs tighter, before pushing them out, "What do you think it was? Not many people around here, and -- ... " "I'm not worried," Mondo replied casually, scratching the side of his nose with a large finger. "I know you're not, I know you're not -- still. I am." "Okay," he acknowledged, "but it was just a flash of light." "Still." "Still?" "Still." "Err -- oh." Cordelia sat in silence for a brief moment, then stood. Sometimes -- she'd follow him to God Knows Where and all, but he can get so frustrating! "Listen. I'm heading back." Lumbering to a standing position, Mondo folded his lawn chair and slid one arm through it to carry it. "All right. I'll come." "Good," Cordelia sighed softly as she walked away from the beach. The sand was hot. The sun was hot. The breeze was warm. Like it always was -- so why did it feel so odd? ---------------------------------------- The Xavier School for Gifted Youngsters The flashy, red Ferrari took the turn at 80 miles per hour. Not an amazing speed, unless someone realised that the turn was practically a switchback. Tires squealed in protest at each new turn, but the driver was not concerned. The engine sounded fine, and right now, more than anything else, she wanted to drive insanely fast and live on the, literal, edge. Her passengers stayed mute, fear staying any attempts at conversation. Far behind the Ferrari, occasionally glimpsed when both cars were in the right section of their turn, another car followed. This car, a 1996 Nissan Sentra, white, was far less flashy -- more importantly, the drastic difference, was the way which the second driver drove. He was far more conservative, caring that the Ferrari was steadily gaining ground but not willing to risk his life in what had been an amusing race between strangers. In fact, he didn't care to catch up to it at all anymore. Bobby deliberated and decided that, well, he was doing the right thing. At least, as right as he could do at this point. He had to get the woman out of his head, and the best way was to confront her. She had resisted, but not that much. He argued that he needed to have control of himself, his powers, again, and until she helped him (she had to help him), he would be forever trapped in this nebulous state of uncertainty and no little fear. She had laughed, then, and said that since he was finally showing that he was ready to help himself, she would help him too, at least, for a little while. If she ever saw him slacking off, taking for granted her good-will, she would drop him like a sack of potatoes. Only, she didn't use those words; hers were far more ... um ... suggestive. He reflected that he had probably just fallen into her hands, doing whatever she wanted ... again. Emma slowed the Ferrari as it came into a straight-away. About five miles ahead, she detected the minds of a pair of bored highway patrol officers. The last thing she needed right now was to get a ticket. Not just hiding herself, from the minds of the patrol officer signified a change in her, one she didn't want to think about right now. So, preventative care was just fine by her, and, besides, being a telepath was very useful, no matter which way she did what she wanted to do. Once past the highway patrol officers, the rest of the drive was uneventful. The car parked at the apex of the cul de sac, and the first ones out were Artie and Leech. Bobby followed them out and took the time to stretch. It was beautiful up here, very calm, what was the word? Idyllic? Yeah, it was idyllic up here. He could get used to it. Moving over to the trunk, he popped it open and took out his bags and theirs. The ride had been... interesting. He reminded himself to write out his will before he got in a car with Emma Frost again. Emma elegantly stepped outof the Ferrari. She took off her dark sunglasses, glanced around, and smiled. "There's no place like home," she said, not really to anyone. Gathering her own bags, all three of them (she had decided to pack light), she turned and walked up the steps of the Frost Building. It was named after herself, as was only appropriate; she was of the school of thought which dictated that modesty was for those who weren't sure of themselves. She was merely confident. Very, very confident. Bobby diffidently asked, "Um ... would you like me to carry those for you?" He pointed to the three bags, two shoulder bags and one suitcase, that she was carrying. "No, I'm fine. Thank you." She continued up the steps. He stared after her, trying not to, and re-evaluated his opinion. She wasn't a stuck up, spoiled, lazy snob. No, she was just stuck up and a snob. For a moment, his mind wandered as he realised just how attractive she was. Today, she was dressed in thigh-high, stiletto-heeled, skin tight, white leather boots; form fitting, white silk leggings; a lacy corset of snowy-white; natural- grain, white leather gloves; and black sunglasses. "Like what you see?" Emma asked, her back still turned to him. Bobby could feel the blood drain out of his face, and then when it rushed back with a vengeance; he realised, to his horror, that he was blushing. "Um ... " Emma simply laughed. There! She's doing it again. Bobby was furious, but only at himself this time. It must have been obvious. Great. He sighed and, dragging his feet, he followed her up the steps. The hallway opened up before them. It was obviously an administrator's building, with rows upon rows of offices and meeting rooms lining the walls. They were all deserted now, as far as Bobby could see, and as he followed Emma up the stairs, he noticed that the walls were strangely bare. They should have been filled with all sorts of pictures and school trophies and the like -- this used to be an actual university after all. He wondered what that meant and decided to store it away for later. After Emma stopped by a rather large office and checked her phone messages, they walked out of that building and into another just a few dozen steps away. Once past a large set of double doors that marked the entrance to the west wing of the Carlton Administrator's Hall, he could see that this was where the academy personnel of higher rank and miscellaneous instructors would live if they hadn't any other arrangements. Each living area was actually a suite worthy of any five star hotel and contained a living room, combination dining room/kitchen, bathroom, and bedroom. "This one is yours," Emma said, interrupting his thoughts. "I'm sure you'll find everything to your satisfaction. Sean lives in the cottage north-west of here, and I am located in the east wing. If you have any questions, feel free to voice them to either of us. The children are located in the next building over." She opened the door and handed him a key. "We have dinner every night in the Formal Dining Room, and breakfast, too, if anyone wishes." Bobby nodded. "Thanks." He walked inside and checked. Fully furnished. Everything in place. Good. She didn't put him in the cheapest room she had. He hoped it meant something. "Sean left a message that he would be back sometime this afternoon. I'll send him up here to speak with you when I see him." She smiled slyly. "I'm sure you'll find him easier to speak to. You do have some things in common after all." With that, she turned and, closing the door after her, left. "I bet," he whispered after she'd gone. It was then that he noticed something. "Where'd they go?" he wondered out loud. Artie and Leech had both been right behind him when he entered the Frost Building. Now they weren't here. He thought for a moment and decided that they were just fine here, he didn't need to worry about them. In fact, didn't they mention something about a Biosphere? He could go visit them later. Once he'd finally unpacked, Bobby felt a lot better. "Okay," he said, "Time to face the world." The window of his bedroom faced the cottage and dormitories, so he figured that's where he should start. "Doesn't she keep a map anywhere in here? Guess I'll just have to do it the hard way," he said, a smile growing on his face. He might not be able to do a tenth of the things she could with his body and powers, but he still knew how to make a good old fashioned ice slide. He was roughly fifty feet in the air, gliding around and giving himself the private tour when someone came up next to him. To his left was the one, the only ... "Hi, Sean!" Sean smiled in acknowledgement and gestured for the two of them to land by his cottage. Bobby moved his hand and shifted the flow of ice, sliding into a neat stop next to Sean. "Bobby, lad, how are ye doin'?" Sean reached his hand out. With a mental twist, Bobby shifted his form back to flesh and blood. His own hand grabbed Sean's and shook heartily. "Hi, Sean. How's it going?" "No too bad. Emma told me ye'd be stayin' wit' us for a wee little bit. I hadna any clue, but 'tis nice t' have ye here." "Thanks. It's nice to be here." "I see ye've been givin' yurself the tour? If ye kin o' any questions, speak ta me o' them. I ken understand why yuir wantin' t' avoid the old mind-witch. So, don't ye worry o' it, lad." Bobby nodded. Here was a man he could relate to. "Thanks again. I'm glad you understand." He decided to tell Sean the whole reason why he was here. "Also, well, I don't know if Emma told you or not, but I'm here to get some serious training about with my powers. And since she's the one who knows, most of all, what I can do, I had to come to her." Sean nodded. "I see. Well, let's be goin' inside o' the cottage for a wee bit. I've still got me bags." He picked up the bags that he had left next to the door, and they walked into the cottage. "Would ye care for somethin' t' drink?" "Sure," Bobby called as he settled himself into a chair. "Got any soda?" Rummaging sounds came from the kitchen until there was a distinct, "Sprite?" "Sure." The Sprite was served in a glass, with ice, which Bobby took gratefully. Sean sat in another chair, on the other side of the well-used fireplace, and drank his own glass of water. "So, lad ... ye seem as if yuir mostly ... wanderin' right now. Would ye agree?" Bobby nodded. "Yeah. I guess. It's just that the X-Men aren't really ... my thing right now, and there's really nothing else... " He eloquently shrugged. "Aye, I can understand that. Well, have ye thought 'bout spendin' a wee bit o' yuir time helpin' others?" "What do you mean?" Sean paused and took a deliberate sip of his water. "Well, I don't know if ye ken what sort o' situation we're in at this school." He glanced at Bobby until he nodded. "This is the new Xavier School for Gifted Youngsters." "Aye. Exactly, lad. An', Emma an' I were speakin' tagether. We dinnae often agree wit' each other, yet on this, we speak wit' the same mind." He paused, and Bobby bit back the urge to demand what he and that woman had decided on; the only thing that stopped him was the sobering fact that in any argument, Sean would get the last word in ... literally. Finally, when Bobby was almost at the end of his rather limited patience, Sean continued, "We were wonderin' if an' ye would be willin' ta impart some o' yuir knowledge, both t'eoretical an' practical, ta the children. Or the students, I should say." As he made his offer, he looked thoughtfully at his younger friend. Obviously, something there must have been favourable, because the next words Bobby heard were "I t'ink ye would be a favourable influence on the children. Ye have got not only experience in both th' school an' X-Men parts o' the dream, but yuir also younger than both Emma an' I, an' I kin that the children would take well to that." Bobby had to laugh at that. "Wait, you're telling me that, for once, the fact that I look *young* is the reason why I'm getting an offer like this?" He shook his head. "No, I think you've got the wrong guy. I mean, I came here *for* help, not to *give* help," he stressed. Sean nodded. "I know." "I'm not qualified, I don't have a license or anything, I'm still learning myself. I don't have any more control over my powers than Jubilee has over hers." Sean nodded. "But you two have more experience. You don't need a third teacher. I don't want to be a teacher, it's not what I wanted to do. Sean nodded. "What about Scott or Cable or Alex or Bishop or ... " His voice faded. Sean nodded. Bobby sat silent for a long moment. He cracked a nebulous grin and sighed. "All right, where do I sign?" Sean just laughed.