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- CYCLOPS
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- PHOENIX
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- THE BEAST
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- WOLVERINE
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- CECILIA REYES
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- DAZZLER
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- BOLT
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- MAVERICK
A REFLECTION OF HOPE
By Mike Franzoni
Editor’s Note: This story takes place between Genetic Eclipse and Love & Marriage.
Every step he takes is like walking through wet cement, an admittance of his failure to become the knight in shining armor. But he moves forward nonetheless, cradling the child in his arms and trying to protect him from the onslaught of wind and rain that falls from the charcoal skies. Through his chest plate, he can feel the slight tingle of kinetic energy seeping into him as the boy’s body shivers against him, and he wishes he had been there, could have prevented all of this from happening.
But there are things in life that you can’t take back, can’t change. And in matters of life and death, the most you can hope for is a chance to do right by the living and mourn the dead. But David North was not yet ready to drape his head in sorrow. There was still one chance to redeem himself, even if it meant swallowing his stubborn pride and asking for help.
“I was wondering when you were gonna get the stones to walk up the doorstep,” a gruff voice says, calling from the shadows and reflecting only the flecks of light that glimmer against his eyes as he lights his cigar. “Too bad ya had to wait till the kid got himself in a bad way.”
“Some things can’t be helped, Wolverine. I had pressing business in Genosha,” Maverick responds, stepping beneath the eave and sheltering the child from the driving rain. “Besides, I had someone I could trust looking over him.”
“Yeah, probably the smartest move you’ve made recently,” Wolverine replies, and it’s then that Maverick realizes that he’s not going to win any ground with his former ally.
“So, you going to welcome the kid back, or do I have to get on my knees and beg?”
“Personally, I’d like to see the begging, but I ain’t about to sacrifice the kid’s life on account of bad blood between the two of us. Just remember that you ain’t got anymore chips to cash in, bub.” Wolverine drops his cigar to the ground, stomping it beneath his boot as he concludes his sentence.
“Yeah, we’ve been through this song and dance before, Logan,” Maverick begins, lowering the child into Wolverine’s opened arms. He brushes a dampened string of hair away from Chris’ face, wishing that he could stay to see him get better, but even he knows that his place is anywhere but with the X-Men. “I appreciate this. And if the X-Men ever need anything from me…”
“We’ll do our best to distract you from your mercenary games.”
A loud rumble rolls in the distance, and Maverick turns, walking off into the rain. Someday, with all hope, Chris will be able to forgive him for walking out of his life. Again. In the meantime, and with God’s good fortune, he’ll recover from this nasty re-emergence of Legacy. And for a second, the moisture gathers in his eyes, and Maverick almost cries.
“Bye, kid.”
He feels himself awaken, but there is only darkness, a swirling black that occupies everything. His eyes twitch slightly, the muscles trying to force the eyelids to part, and slowly, light seeps in from the edges. A sigh of relief floods his body as he realizes that he’s not blind, only forced to peer though a frosted haze.
He feels the dry tug as he opens his mouth slightly, something between a moan and a soft gasp escaping his parched lips. His back arches slightly, and he hears the shuffling of feet from around him. He wants to call out, wants to learn who it is that is by his bedside, but he can’t seem to find the voice to do so.
A large shadow of blue crowds his field of vision, still indistinct and clouded. He feels a warm touch against his forehead, the soft fur sweeping back the sweat-matted hair away from his eyes. But then the shadow speaks, a soft and jubilant tone with just a sidenote of professionalism. “To spread mine eyes upon daylight is but an affirmation of my existence, glorious and redefined each day with the new morn.”
“Please don’t quote English Lit to me this early in the morning, Hank,” a second voice responds, a slight reflection of a Hispanic accent tugging at the edges of her words. “It’s much too early for that.”
“But my dear Doctor Reyes, how can one express such jubilation at revival of the young master without the expression of such fine words?” Beast replies, circling the bed to the other side of the boy. “And all things considered, my quote was sheathed from the musings of one Doctor Henry McCoy, genius extraordinaire.”
“Less babble, more medicine, please.”
Listening to them bicker, Chris almost has the desire to smile, but then he feels the cold press of metal against his chest, and he winces. Leaning down toward him, Beast whispers in his ear, “My supposition is that Doctor Reyes has not yet imbued herself with the daily dosage of caffeinated stimulant, thus the basis for her reproachable personality at this juncture in time.”
“I heard that, blue boy,” she calls to him from across the room, and for the first time, Chris trails the source of the voice and beholds Cecilia and smiles. She is a beautiful woman, almost exotic with her dark skin and her braided hair tied back. “And before you think of filling that boy’s head with any more of your nonsense, remember that I know where you sleep.”
“Touché, good doctor, touché,” Beast replies, satisfied with the heartbeat he is hearing. Turning back to the boy and placing his hand reassuringly upon his shoulder, Beast says, “Well, Mister Bradley, we will leave you so that you may acquire your rest while the day is still young.”
He doesn’t know how long he’s slept, only that in the time since he closed his eyes, the room has gone dark. Opening his eyes fully, he is glad not to have the light to painfully stab at them. He twists his head slightly, and in doing so, he realizes that the reason for the darkness is only the dimmed lights, with no windows in the room to let the light in.
There is a slight chatter of voices on in the hallway, drifting in through the partially opened airlock door to the medical lab. He listens for a moment, hoping to hear some voices that he recognizes.
“I can’t say that I agree with how the boy got here, but I won’t deny that we’re probably the best place for him to be right now,” a man speaks, his voice steady yet gentle, commanding yet concerned at the same time. It takes a second, but from what Chris remembers, the voice has to belong to Cyclops. After all, it sounds too serious to be anyone else.
“While that may be true, Scott, we must remember that our facilities are smaller and more confined than those of the Westchester mansion. And lending consideration to the current plights suffered by Warren’s ousting from Worthington Industries, we may need to explore the possibility of moving the child to another facility, possibly even Westchester,” Beast responds, his stable doctor’s tone identifying his voice immediately.
“Is that possible?”
“Trust to tell, Fearless Leader, his prognosis is not top-notch. Another sudden move, especially one that could possibly endure turbulence or stress from the road, could exacerbate his condition.”
“Then we’ll keep him here for the time being. What kind of condition is he in?”
“That is difficult to ascertain from one moment to the next. But with all things considered, if we hope to rescue this child from the inimitable clutches of the Dark Lady, we will need to discover a cure soon.”
Hearing the words, Chris bolts up in the bed, shrugging the sheets from his upper body and wishing immediately that he hadn’t moved so quickly. Responding to his movements, the lights in the medical bay jump to life, just as Chris leans forward in agony, the muscles in his side twisting in pain from the low usage of his muscles.
But even before his lungs have drawn the breath to cry out, Beast is by his side, easing him back down onto the bed. “Please, Master Bradley, it is highly imperative that you do aggravate your ailments. Please, try to rest and we will do what we can. What we must, to keep you in good health.”
Scott watches the from the edge of things, watching as yet another child endures the ravages of this damnable disease. He has seen it all happen again and again, the by-products of Apocalypse destroying life after life. Like that of his oldest son, the man known as Cable.
With the aid of a mild relaxant, Beast eases the child back into sleep, checking the regularity of his breathing and the steadiness of his pulse. He dims the lights once more after setting the machines to alert him should the child arise from sleep once more. Turning back to the door, and reading the stillness on Cyclops’ face, he wraps a blue-furred hand around the shoulder of his friend and says, “Let us away. Flocks of angels watch over him in our stead.”
She knows that her fears are irrational, that she shouldn’t be afraid of him, but that doesn’t change how she feels. Since his arrival, tucked in the arms of Wolverine, Alison Blaire has avoided Chris Bradley. Perhaps it is out of fear of a disease that nothing is known about. Perhaps it is out of fear for her own child, her darling Rebecca. Whatever it is, she can not help but worry with that child in the house.
“Penny for you thoughts, girl?” He asks from behind her startling her with his gruff voice and noiseless entry.
She turns away from the window, letting the silhouettes and flashes of lightning rage behind her. Her stance is uneasy, arms folded across the chest as if she were hugging herself. “I don’t know, Logan. I’ve seen a lot of stuff in my time. Been from edge of the galaxy to the next. I’ve fought civil wars in alternate dimensions and performed concerts in Central Park. So why am I standing here shaking because something as simple as a sick child?”
“Maybe cuz it ain’t that simple, Ali. The kid’s not laid up with a little bit of the common cold. Nope, he’s sitting there battling a disease that could very well be the death cry of the mutant race. Stuff like that’s never simple,” Wolverine replies, sauntering across the room with a confidence that would set any man to fear.
“Yeah, I know that. But still, Chris came here for support, for help. You guys were his family at one point, almost. But I can’t even bring myself to be on the same floor as him, let alone the same room.”
“Seems to me that you’re not afraid of the kid and you aren’t afraid of the disease. Nope, you’re shivering in your shoes on account of not knowing what the hell it is,” Logan responds, watching her movements and listening to the rhythmic pulse of her breath. “Whatcha gotta understand is this: no matter how much you learn, no matter how much you try to stay ahead, life’s always gonna throw you a curveball. So does that mean you ask someone to pinch hit for ya, or do stand up at the plate anyway?”
She doesn’t reply, mulling it over in her head as she listens to the nearly silent shuffle of his feet leaving the room. And then, with a seconds thought past, the baby monitor beeps in her pocket, calling her attention the her waking child.
“Who?” he asks, his voice still hoarse and sore from the lack of moisture. He coughs slightly, trying to adjust himself to the environment long enough to figure out who has joined him.
“There’s no need to worry yourself, Chris. It’s just me, Jean,” she responds, wrapping her fingers into his opened palm. She had not meant to wake him, only to make sure that there was someone for him to wake up to. Hank had needed a break, and despite her own motherly duties, Jean felt a need to be near the child, just as she had done to comfort Jubilee after Illyana’s passing.
“Why am I here?” he inquires, his grip tightening to grasp her hand in return. Normally, he might feel slighted to be here, almost overwhelmed by the X-Men’s sudden interest in his well-being, but today, he is not arguing their desire to help him.
“You had a relapse in your battle with the Legacy Virus. While your doctors in Florida tried to break the fever, you lapsed into a coma. Maverick had been away, some business in Genosha that he hasn’t divulged yet. However, he did leave someone watching over you, a man code-named Wraith. It was Wraith who brought Maverick back to Florida, and Maverick called in a favor with Logan, swallowing his pride to ask for our help.”
“He abandoned me…again?” his voice says, a slight waver twisting the pitch as he speaks.
“No, not that at all. He asked us to keep you well, and to assure you that he’d be back for you soon. But for now, your best hopes medically lie with us. Hank and Cecilia are working around the clock to find a cure, something that will make it all better.”
“How much time do I have?”
“Beast doesn’t know. It’s hard to tell with Legacy,” she replies and then pauses, examining the lines in his face and the worry in his eyes. “But the thing to keep in mind, is that you are going to get better, and we will beat this. Together. We’re not going to give up on you. Please don’t give up on us.”
“If I do…” Chris starts, unable to say the final word of the sentence. “Am I going to be punished for who I am?”
A tear collects at the corner of her eye, and Jean wills it to stay back. She wishes that he had never been taught that his differentiated birth set him to punishment, but she knows that it is because of his mutation that he has this disease. “No, kiddo. I like to think that Heaven is what we make of it, and we accept others for who they are, then Heaven will do the same for us.”
He pauses for a moment, thinking on this. And for some reason, he’s finally beginning to feel safe again. “Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For helping me even though I couldn’t ask for the help myself.”
“That’s who we are, Chris,” she says, smiling. “That’s what makes us X-Men.”
The kitchen is quiet, a warm heat flowing through the room, from body to body of the assembled X-Men. It’s not been often that Cyclops has gathered the troops in this mansion, most of their battles occurring outside it and pulling the troops from their attempts at maintaining a life outside these walls. “I’m sorry that I had to ask you all here this late at night. I realize that it may be an inconvenience to you, but I felt that you should all know this first hand.”
Beast interrupts then, his normally jubilant voice sliding into a professional monotone, almost reminiscent of the doctor who must deliver the bad news. “Ladies, gentlemen, flaming-tressed beauties via telepathic link. It is with great solemnity that I find myself before you today, for while tragedy has gripped us of late, we are not yet beyond its reaches. We have been presented many times with the opportunities to save lives, and more often than not, our success has proven a constant factor. Yet today, we can not prevent the victim’s fall in battle, nor can we chase down the evil-doers who have cast this occasion upon us. We are faced with a challenge swathed in silence, and something that lingers close to the heart.”
“Just get on with it, Beast. I got a wife to get to, myself,” Wolverine pipes in.
“Yes, yes, of course,” Beast says, shaking his head and consciously reminding himself not to draw it out. “The point is: a child lies dying in our medical lab, a child whom we very well may have exposed to the Legacy Virus upon his initial invitation to the Westchester mansion. With this in mind, the X-Men will now find themselves two members short, as Doctor Reyes and I devote our time and effort to extracting a cure from the hands of fate most certain.”
Cyclops cuts in then, a certain confidence underlying in his voice, despite the tension he feels inside. “With Kitty and Betsy’s departures and Jean still recovering from the birth and her own ailments, that leaves us short-handed. Logan has agreed to remain on-call as much as possible, but since his attentions are split between both teams, that might not be the best solution to the entire problem. Now, I’m not saying that I have that solution yet, but we’ll find it. In the meantime, I need the three of us to be on the top of our games.”
“What about the kid?” Logan asks.
“He stays here, until a cure is found or he’s healthy enough to be moved to a better facility. I have every confidence that Beast and Doctor Reyes, coupled with the Professor and Moira’s efforts, can find a cure. It’s only a matter of time.”
“What if we ain’t got the time, Slim?”
“That’s something we can only hope for.”
NEXT ISSUE: A cure is found, but is it the retribution that the X-Men have long sought? And what dangers does it bring with it? As the X-Men fight to bring that cure to the world, an old menace rears its head once more. But who could it be and what is their aim? Find out in part one of Legacies & Diamonds.
I, for one, am glad to be joining the X-teams on this project, especially with the opportunity to tell the stories that I’ve always wanted to tell with the X-Men. Hopefully, we’ll see the resolution of some long-hanging plot threads as well the introduction and exploration of some new characters. Trust me folks, this is gonna be a hell of a ride.
Thanks for tuning in for step one.
-Mike
~Ryan
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