Commencement
by Mo

Pairing: Scott/Logan primarily, although other couples are shown briefly as well and Scott's relationship with Charles Xavier is explored in some depth.
Rating: NC/17 for sex and language.
Scenario/Sequel/Series: Movieverse, although much has happened since the movie. This series takes place a few weeks after the weekend events described in my last series, Safe House, but it's really more of a sequel to Adult Education and Continuing Education. The three "Education" series share a common focus and a common structure - four stories in each series. In addition, all the stories in the trilogy have academic titles and each series presents a different point of view. Adult Education is told first person in Scott's voice; Continuing Education first person in Logan's. Now, Commencement is told in third person. Taken together these three series present the problem that initially drove Logan to leave and show what he and Scott do to try to resolve his dilemma.
The characters, situations and events in Commencement are consistent with those portrayed in my previous stories and series:
Anything Can Happen
I Know What You Are
We're Not What You Think
Canadian Nights
What a Long, Strange Trip It's Been
Night and Day
Foreign Correspondence
Adult Education
Continuing Education
Safe House
Commencement makes reference primarily to the other Education series, but it also discusses events that occurred in We're Not What You Think and Safe House.
All of these are available, with much thanks to Nancy the web goddess, at www.angelfire.com/comics/mo
In addition, some or all are available at the following sites:
www.fanfiction.net www.phoenixfyre.net www.dymphna.net/xmovieslash
Disclaimer: The X-Men and Alpha Flight belong to Marvel. The movie belongs to Fox. Oliver, Jamie, Susan, Diana, Laura and assorted other characters in Westchester, Belarus, Saskatchewan and elsewhere are the products of my fevered imagination. Scott and Logan feel a little bit like they're mine, too, since I've been borrowing them for so long.
Literature Guide: It has been my practice to publish a literature guide with supplemental information on literature quoted in each series, with URLs for the complete works, if available. The guide for Commencement will be posted after the stories themselves. It contains spoilers so should be read after the series.
A Note on the Titles: Several of my series make reference to Bryn Mawr College in Pennsylvania, where a number of the female mutants in my stories went to school. This one has little BMC content, but the story titles are all titles of courses in Bryn Mawr's current catalogue.
Acknowledgements: As always, big thanks to SW and LS for research, beta reading, inspiration and lots of laughs.

"It won't be my first time." He sat cross-legged on the bed, looking down at Logan, running one hand along his lover's thigh.

"Won't? Does that mean it's decided? You want to go ahead with this?"

"I'm not rushing the decision. Let's find out a little more, consider our options. But yes, I think we're going to end up killing him." He hesitated and then added, "And I think I can make peace with that. It doesn't look like we're getting rid of him any other way, does it? Law enforcement hasn't exactly stepped up to the plate and taken care of him for us."

Logan considered that for a minute. "You know, I just don't get that. Do you?" Scott shook his head. "Mac thinks he got some sort of immunity in exchange for the Weapon X stuff, but that just seems so far fetched. We're talking about how long here? Like 60 years, eh? And two countries, at least. I'm as paranoid as the next guy, but come on. It would require a conspiracy of local, state, and federal law enforcement agencies in the States. And something similar here. And through generations of cops. I just can't see it."

"I know. It is hard to fathom. But why wasn't he locked up after the Statue of Liberty thing?"

"Oh, something's going on with him. There's some way he stays out of prison. I just don't know what it is. I can't swallow Mac's explanation, though." Neither of them said anything for a minute. Logan sat up and faced Scott. "Not your first time? You killed someone before?" Scott nodded his head slowly. "You never told me."

"I never told anyone. I tried to forget all about it, not 'to summon up remembrance of things past.' Some things are just best forgotten." He sighed. "Not that I can forget it altogether. Sometimes I dream about doing it, and when I wake up for a minute I don't know if it's a dream or it was real. I don't even know if Charles knows." He paused in thought. "Maybe he does. I tried to forget about being gay, too, and he knew that."

Logan lay back on the bed. "Get on top of me, Cyclops," he said. Scott did what he told him to, lying with his head on Logan's chest. "Tell me about it."

Scott didn't say anything for a long time. "It was a long time ago," was all he finally said.

"When you were on your own?" Logan took Scott's silence for assent. "You had to defend yourself. Nothing to be ashamed of."

Scott took a deep breath. "No, it was before that. And it wasn't self-defense." He waited a long time before adding, "I just wanted him dead." Then he got off of Logan and sat up, facing away from him.

"Who was he?" Scott didn't answer. Logan tried again. "When was this? How old were you?"

"Fifteen. It was when I first came into my powers."

"Did him with your blasts?"

"Yeah. First time. I didn't even know what was happening. Well, at the moment. I'd heard enough about mutants to figure it out shortly afterwards."

"So it was an accident, then." Scott didn't say anything. "It was, wasn't it?"

"I don't know. Sort of. I didn't know I could kill him, but I knew I wanted to. I can remember thinking so clearly just before it happened: 'if looks could kill he'd be dead.' And then he was." He looked down, lost in thought and memory. "Do you ever wonder, Logan, how it happens? The coming into your powers? Why is it so often at times of emotional turmoil? Why those particular powers? Jean and Hank have done all this research on the physiology of mutation, but that's a question they just can't answer. What do you think? Why optic blasts for me? Why healing factor and the claws and heightened senses for you?"

"I don't know. I don't think I ever thought about it before. It's just how it is, you know, how I am." Logan mused on it some more. "Do you think there's some connection? Do you think I got the healing factor 'cause I needed it to survive right then, got the claws because Yukio wanted me to finish him off? And that you got your blasts to kill that guy?"

"No, not really. I thought like that for a while when I was a kid, but it couldn't be. That's teleological reasoning, don't you agree?"

"Well, I'm not sure. I might agree if I had any idea what the fuck it means."

Scott laughed. "Oh, just thinking things happen because they need to be a certain way, that there's a kind of master plan in what happens to us. I don't believe in that. Life's random."

Logan nodded in agreement. "Sometimes random's okay, though. I think I got a pretty good deal. I like my powers -- don't think I'd trade them for anything else if I could. Well, I've cursed the healing factor often enough but I'm pretty happy with it now."

"You've cursed it when you haven't wanted to live, right? So, you feeling better about life in general? About living?"

Logan smiled. "Yeah, I am. I don't know where you and me are gonna end up, Scott, but you've helped me a lot. I'm a hell of a lot better off than I was when I first ran into you."

Scott smiled back. "I think I ran into you first. But, anyway, I'm glad you're willing to forgive me for saving your life." Logan laughed at that. "I think you got a good deal, too," Scott told him. "With your powers, that is. If not for the Weapon X experience, I don't think you'd ever curse the healing factor. Or any of the rest of it. Would you?"

Logan considered that. "Maybe. There were times before then when I felt like I wanted to die. And when I was trying to kill myself pretty much all the time, well that was when I didn't even remember the Weapon X stuff." Seeing Scott's expression, he continued, "Yeah, I know. Just 'cause I didn't remember doesn't mean I wasn't affected by it. I know that - I always knew it -- knew something happened to me that made me like this and that it was all wrapped up with the nightmares and the suicidal thoughts." He stopped to think again. "But, yeah, I think my powers are a good deal. Good for fighting," he mused. "And good for fucking," he added with a smile. "Nothing I'd trade for. What about you? What powers would you have, if you could choose?"

Scott lay back on the bed, pulled his glasses off. Eyes closed, he pondered the question. "You know, mostly I've just wished I could control what I've got. But I guess if I could choose I'd... Oh, I don't know. Something totally different, anyway. I think I'd like to fly," he said, dreamily. "Can you imagine? Just being able to soar into the air any time you wanted to. The first time Warren took me flying -- when we were kids -- I thought I'd died and gone to heaven." With his eyes still closed he didn't see Logan's scowl. "But I wouldn't want wings like he has. If I could choose my powers I'd choose something that doesn't show. I'm sick to death of being conspicuous." He sighed. "Maybe like Jean-Paul? Flight and super speed and not looking like an identifiable mutant. Not a bad set up."

"Yeah, he seems to like that. Although there is something to be said for having a visible mutation. You know what people think of mutants right off -- no surprises."

"That's true. I don't suppose Kurt or Hank ever gets to know someone and then finds out months later that there's anti-mutant prejudice he didn't know about. Like Jean-Paul did with Kolya. It's sort of surprising he didn't give up on non-mutants altogether after that -- that he ended up with Adam, don't you think?" Logan just shrugged. Scott thought some more, then continued. "Or maybe I wouldn't choose flight. Something else that doesn't show, though." After a long pause, he added, "But not telepathy."

"I'm with you there. I know more about other people than I want to already," Logan said, making Scott laugh. "No, I mean it. There's times -- more often than not -- when I'm glad of the heightened senses but sometimes I just kind of wish I was less... I don't know... less aware. Particularly of people."

"I can understand that, what with 'interpersonal shit' not being your strong suit. And really, for anybody, I think telepathy's a hard one. It takes a certain personality, a certain inner strength, to manage it well. Jean's got it -- she's got the perfect personality for a telepath: calm, understanding, but at the core of her as strong as anything. As strong as adamantium," he added, turning over now, massaging Logan's shoulders with strong strokes, feeling the metal underneath. "And even with all that it nearly drove her crazy when she was younger. If she hadn't had Charles to guide her I don't think she could have adjusted like she did."

Scott leaned down over Logan, kissed him deeply. "Maybe I'd choose to have your powers, if I could. Or at least the healing factor. It could make things a little easier for us."

Logan laughed briefly. "You mean 'cause of the 'vanishingly short refractory period'? We work around that okay, I think. It helps that you're... that you've got stamina."

Scott laughed, too. "You're never going to learn to pronounce that, are you? You've got some sort of a block, Logan. A man who can say 'vanishingly short refractory period' can say 'indefatigable'." He put his glasses back on and looked at his lover. "That's not what I meant, though. I was talking about how you don't age. You know it's going to be a problem for us eventually -- me getting old, you staying like this."

"I don't know that. It's your problem, Cyclops. You've got it in your head that I'm not going to want you when you look older than I do. I never said or did anything to make you feel like that. It's all you."

"Well, it's just common sense, Logan."

"Not to me, it ain't. Or maybe I don't have enough 'common sense' to care about that stuff. I would have stayed with Yasuko, you know. Don't you think that's what we planned? She didn't doubt me, didn't think all I cared about was having a young lover."

"I didn't say I thought that's all you care about. I don't think that. It's just something that worries me."

"Well, I can't make you stop worrying. That's got to come from your own head, 'cause that's where it started. And who knows if we'll stay together long term? I don't know if I have it in me anymore." He looked grimly at Scott. "It's hard to make long term plans. I don't want to disappoint you, promise what I can't deliver. But I can tell you if I leave it won't be 'cause of that."

"Are you thinking about leaving?"

"No. Not now. I'm not thinking any further than what we're going to do about that guy." He kissed Scott hard, pulling his body towards him. "And I'm thinking we'd better work out something to do about him because I don't think I can leave you. Not now, anyway."

Scott put his arms around Logan, pushing up against him. They kissed a long time, hands roaming over each other's bodies. "Turn over, bub," Logan said, finally.

"Is it any wonder I'm so crazy about you?" Scott replied, lying prone on the bed. "You say the most romantic things." And then the joking tone disappeared and he was saying "That's good" and "More" and "I need your cock inside me now."

Logan got on top of him, pushing in slowly. One arm round Scott's chest, index finger sliding back and forth over his nipple. The other hand round his hard-on, pumping him with his fist as he pumped into him. And talking in his ear the whole time. "You're mine, Scott. You belong to me. That's not gonna change. Not now, not anytime."

Scott was breathing hard, moaning and then whimpering a little as he came close to orgasm, asking breathlessly for Logan to fuck him harder. "Say it," Logan growled. "Tell me you're mine and I'll do that for you. Say it. Say no one else gets to do this to you and I'll make you come."

"I'm yours," he cried out. "No one else, Logan, just you." Hearing that, Logan rubbed him harder and faster, pushing his cock deep into him with every stroke. Then thrust deep and stayed stock still all the way inside as Scott came all over his hand.

Logan moved his hand to Scott's mouth. "Lick it," he said. "Taste what I did to you." Scott licked and sucked on Logan's hand as Logan kept fucking him, the sounds and the feelings all making him move faster and faster until the cum was shooting out of him, deep in Scott's ass.

Logan licked the sweat off the back of Scott's neck and then rolled off of him, breathing hard. Neither of them said anything for a while. "What I said before. That wasn't a promise, didn't mean forever," he told Scott finally, not looking at him.

"I know. You just said it because it felt hot to talk like that. It makes me hot to hear it. I'm not counting on it. I know it's just pretend."

"It's not pretend. It's, I don't know, something else. It does feel hot to say it and to hear you say it." He paused, looking like he was searching for the right words. "That's not all it is, Scott, not all it means. It's what I want, really it is, us to stay together. I just don't know if I can. I might have to leave sometime. Maybe I'm just gonna have to be on my own again. I can't tell if it'll get too much for me.

"But if that's what happens, it won't be because I want somebody young. I got time, plenty of time for that -- I got nothing but time. I won't want you less because you look different than you do now." He smiled slyly. "I got nothing against fucking geezers."

Scott laughed at that. After a while, Logan spoke again. "Who was he, Scott? Why did you want him dead?"

Scott didn't answer the first question. "He totally humiliated me, mocked me. I was fifteen -- what did I know? It seemed like the worst thing that could happen. A few months later I'd look back and realize how inconsequential it was, but at the time I just wanted him to die." Logan waited while Scott gathered his thoughts a bit. "He found letters I'd written, letters to another boy. I used to write them in study hall when I was done with my homework, kept them hidden in my book bag. Love letters, in case that wasn't clear. A lot of it was poetry. Really, really bad poetry," he added with an ironic smile.

"Was it Jack? The Boy Scout guy who fucked you?"

"No, it was a long time after that." Scott chuckled a little. "Well, I guess about six months. A long time when you're a teenager. His name was Toby. He was wonderful, Logan -- thoughtful, smart, interested in so many things. And just drop dead gorgeous -- I couldn't take my eyes off of him. He was in my history class and we got assigned to do a project together. Toby had just moved to town and I was pretty much the first kid he'd talked to at length. We hit it off right away and got to be really good friends -- always over at each other's houses, had lunch together almost every day. I was just desperately in love. It made me realize that the thing with Jack hadn't been a fluke, that it really was guys I wanted."

"You never gave him the letters?"

"No, I don't think I ever thought I would, really. It's just not the kind of thing that you could do in high school in Indiana -- give passionate love letters to another boy. I knew enough not to give them to Toby, never to tell him how I felt. I wished I'd known enough not to write them at all." He sighed, then continued. "Then my letters to Toby were discovered. By absolutely the worst possible person. And you know what he did when he found them? Waited until I was in a group of kids and read them out loud. And called me names. A grown man getting his kicks humiliating a teenage kid. I felt like every shred of dignity I'd had just disappeared. Ironic, huh? I had no idea how far down I still had to go. But it was awful, as awful as anything my fifteen-year-old straight-A Boy Scout self could imagine. And he did it in front of my friends, including Toby, who'd had no idea. I can still see him looking at me in total shock, then turning and walking away, hands on his ears so he wouldn't have to hear anymore.

"And even my little brother was there. Alex had always worshipped me, always looked up to his big brother. Well, no more. So, anyway, there we were. He was reading the letters and making these godawful editorial comments and jokes. Me, well I was thinking 'I am in love and that is my shame' -- it was never truer. And I was just fighting back the tears and thinking that's why my eyes hurt and my head hurt. I was glaring at him -- like I said, just wishing looks could kill. Then there was like an explosion or something and he was on the ground and everybody was screaming and running away. I ran, too. And kept running. I've never been back there, all these years."

He turned on his side, facing away from Logan, who started rubbing Scott's shoulders. "It was an accident, Scott. It wasn't your fault. Of course you wanted him dead. What kind of a sadistic creep would do that to a kid?" Scott didn't say anything. "Was he a teacher of yours?"

Scott shook his head. Logan pressed up against him from behind, put his arms around him. Scott spoke so softly that even with his hypersensitive hearing Logan wouldn't have heard him if his face hadn't been right next to Scott's. "No," he said. "He was my father."

"No," he said. "He was my father."

Susan and Diana looked back and forth from the portrait to the professor. "Okay," Diana said, "I can see the resemblance now that you mention it. But I didn't spot it at first glance."

"I think it's the hair," Charles replied, smiling. "He had a full head of hair until the day he died. I don't know what happened to me," he added, running a hand across his bald head. "Maybe it's part of the mutation."

His grin suggested he was kidding, but Diana answered seriously. "Male pattern baldness is inherited through the mother, generally. Maybe male relatives on her side were bald?"

Susan was still looking at the portrait. "It's a wonderful picture, Professor Xavier," she said. "He has this kind of stern Robber Baron look, but then there's a touch of whimsy to it, too."

Charles laughed. "Yes, I think you're right, on both counts. Most people refer to it as a 'Captain of Industry' look, but Robber Baron wouldn't be inaccurate, I think. That kind of fortune wasn't acquired, generally, without some unethical behavior. I'm sensible of its murky origins and just try to use it responsibly now." He looked at the portrait anew. "Yes, I can see what you mean about whimsy. I'm afraid I saw a lot more of the stern qualities than the whimsy in the subject of the portrait, though. I try to let the children in my charge see the whimsical side of his son. At least once in a while."

The tour of the main house complete, Charles and the two women returned to his office. Jean was waiting there for them. She introduced herself to Susan and said to Diana, "I think we met once before." Diana looked at her questioningly. "A long time ago, when you and Warren were together. A Christmas party at his parents' house."

"Oh!" Diana replied. "I remember that party but there were so many new people I was meeting. And it's over 10 years ago. I'm sorry..." Her voice trailed off.

Jean laughed. "Oh, don't worry. I'm not offended at not being remembered. It was a long, long time ago. And I knew pretty much everyone there but you, so it was easy for me. Plus our Warren was so smitten that I was quite intrigued to meet you." Diana blushed. "I'm sorry, am I embarrassing you?"

"No, not really. It just seems so remote or something, so divorced from my life now. We were just talking about this the other day -- there's almost a surreal quality to looking back on the time Warren and I were together, to thinking about how we almost got married."

"Married?" Charles sounded surprised. "I had no idea. Well, Warren wasn't living here at the time. It's when he was in grad school, right?" Diana nodded. "So, I guess I wasn't up on all the details of his life, but I thought I would have known if he'd gotten engaged."

"I'm sure you would have been invited to the wedding, Charles," Jean answered, laughing. "If there had been one." She turned to Diana. "I didn't know either, though. Was the engagement announced sometime after that Christmas?"

"It never really got to the point of being publicly announced," Diana replied. "We had been planning on marriage then but hadn't wanted to say anything generally just yet, since we were waiting until I was done at Bryn Mawr and Warren at Wharton before we married. We did tell our respective parents that Christmas vacation, though. By the time we would have made a public announcement we had already broken up."

"So, is it okay to ask what happened? Or is that obvious?" Charles asked, with a smile at Susan and Diana.

"No, I didn't come out until a couple of years after Warren and I broke up." Diana thought for a minute. "It's so hard to say just what makes for a relationship ending, don't you think? I can say the proximate cause but then I don't feel like it really explains anything. Ultimately, I think we both came to feel that our parents wanted this marriage a whole lot more than either of us did."

"Really? You were going to get married? I had no idea." Laura turned from the desk to face Warren as he entered the bedroom, naked except for a towel around his waist. Laura had been wrapping a gift for a friend's upcoming wedding, the occasion of which had prompted Warren to reminisce about his own cancelled nuptials. She turned her back to the large box, gaily festooned with brightly colored ribbons, and faced Warren as he lay down on the bed. He dropped the towel and stretched out on his back, arms folded behind his head, wings spread wide, drops of water glistening on his feathers.

"Well, we weren't officially engaged or anything. But we were planning on marriage -- after we both graduated. And we did go so far as to tell our parents." Warren scowled, remembering. "They were thrilled, thought Diana was the 'right sort'. Our mothers knew each other from Junior League. They were all ready to start planning a wedding -- we had to practically sit on them to get them to hold off." He rolled his eyes.

"How did your father react?"

"Oh, he thought it was wonderful. But he pulled me aside first chance he got and asked 'Does she know about your condition?'"

Laura laughed, then stopped, realizing he wasn't joking. "Really?" Warren nodded. "Well, what did he think you and Diana did? Leave your clothes on during sex? Not to mention that she'd never be able to even touch your back without knowing. Did he think she was just lying there thinking of England?" she asked incredulously.

"He thought we didn't have sex at all." Warren scowled again. "Yeah, and I guess he thought she never got close enough to touch my back. I hadn't really thought about that." He paused. "Well, I think he assumed I kept everyone far enough away from me not to know, that I was as repulsed by my wings as he was."

Laura considered that a minute. "It's kind of amazing, isn't it, that you never internalized that? It's one of the first things that attracted me about you -- it's so obvious that even with the inconvenience of having to hide them so often you just love your wings. You revel in what makes you different. It's not something you see in a lot of mutants -- most of us have such mixed feelings about our gifts." She walked over to him and sat down on the bed. "I have to say I thought your parents must have done such a good job of instilling feelings of self-worth and self-acceptance in you. I was so shocked when you told me what your childhood was really like." She leaned down and kissed him, stroking the nearer wing from the crest down to the tip.

"I don't think it's so surprising that I enjoy my wings. They're really useful; I love flying. And they feel good." Warren smiled slyly as Laura continued to stroke. "And ever since I was old enough to be interested in girls I was blissfully aware that people like to touch them. Somehow the opinions of women I was hot for mattered more to me than what my parents thought."

Laura laughed at that. "Maybe there's hope for Jamie yet. What do you think?" He scowled at her. "Okay, okay, we won't talk about him." She kissed Warren again, lying on top of him now, sliding the fingertips of both hands along his wings. He moaned a little, and wrapped his arms around her. Their tongues met in a long, lingering kiss, pressed against each other. Laura moved her hips against his hard cock.

After a while, she pulled away from Warren's mouth and began kissing him on the neck and shoulders, continuing to stroke the feathers of his wings as she did, feeling the beads of water on them. Working her way down his body, she sucked on one nipple and then kissed and licked down to his groin. Warren lay back, breathing harder as his lover held his erection in her hand, licking up and down the shaft. "Suck on it. Please," he asked, finally.

"Since you ask so nicely..." She put the head in her mouth, licking all around the top, slipping her tongue into the slit as she moved her mouth on him and worked the shaft with her hands. Stroking up and down with both hands and her mouth, Laura was making contented noises as Warren's hips bucked up, pushing his cock far into her mouth again and again.

His hands were in her hair, stroking and then wrapping the hair around his fingers and holding on tight as he got closer to orgasm. "Oh, that's good," he was saying. "More. Harder." And then his words became less coherent although his intent was still clear. When he came, deep in her throat, she heard him call her name.

Laura lay with her head on Warren's belly afterwards as he lazily stroked her hair. "How old were you when you and Diana were sort of engaged?" she asked after a while.

"Twenty-two. Why?"

"I don't know. I'm still kind of boggling at the idea that your father thought the two of you weren't having sex. It just seems odd - at least in the late twentieth century. Maybe a hundred years ago... Did he think you were a virgin? Did he think you should be?"

Warren laughed, short and bitter. "No way. He was always giving me names and numbers of prostitutes." His voice changed as he quoted, taking on the stentorian tones of Warren Worthington, Jr. "He'd say things like, 'This one won't mind your condition. She'll do anything.' " The stress on that last word hung in the air. After a while he added, "But you're right. He was sort of a throwback. I've often thought he would have been happier living at the turn of the previous century." He paused, frowning. "The life he wanted - patriarch who rules with an iron hand -- would have been much more accessible to him then. We all would have acquiesced to it easier, I suppose, if it was a more common family pattern. And, of course, it would have been 100 years before the mutant phenomenon really took off. He would have escaped the shame of having a mutant son."

Jean had just finished explaining her mutation cataloguing project to Susan and Diana when someone knocked on the door of the professor's office. Susan was surprised that the professor didn't answer the knock in words but merely gestured towards the closed door. As soon as he did, a tall dark-haired young man entered. The professor introduced him to the women as Oliver and told him to sit down for a minute.

"Oliver here is one of our star students," Professor Xavier told the two women. "Susan, he'll take you on a tour of some of the grounds while Jean is examining and interviewing Diana."

"Are you okay about walking distances?" the young man asked solicitously, glancing at Susan's protruding belly. "We can go slow but the property's quite large." After a pause he added, "Of course we don't have to see everything."

Susan smiled indulgently at him. "Really, I'm fine. I haven't had to curtail any activities due to pregnancy. It's not an ailment, you know."

"Oh, I know. But my mother was always so tired when she was pregnant. I guess I expect other women to be, too." Oliver paused and then turned to Jean. "Dr. Grey?" he asked anxiously. "Have you heard anything?"

She smiled and nodded. "Scott checked in last night, Oliver," she said, tapping her temple to indicate that he had done so through telepathic link. "They're fine. I don't know when they'll be back but he said they've been making some progress." She turned back to Susan and Diana. "A couple of our teachers here are off on a mission. It's an extended assignment and they're traveling in some remote locations, so communications haven't been great."

"Scott Summers?" Susan asked. "And Logan?" Jean nodded. "We met them in Montreal. I think they were just heading out on assignment then. Scott encouraged us to make this visit before deciding whether to move to the Saskatchewan outpost." Susan and Oliver said their goodbyes and left together through the French doors of the professor's office, heading up a hill towards a picturesque folly.

Jean and the professor conferred briefly on a pending school issue while Diana examined the books lining one wall of the office. Then Diana and Jean left together for the medical department quarters. Jean conducted a brief tour of the infirmary and labs and they settled into Jean's office.

"Thanks so much for agreeing to participate in my project," Jean said to Diana, facing her across the big desk. "I'm trying to amass as large a sample of mutants as I can. I'm particularly interested in recording information on those who have the same or similar mutations. So, for example, I want to see what, if anything, all telepaths have in common."

"Well, I'd be really interested to hear if you've ever come across anyone with my mutation, because I never have. As far as I know, I'm one of a kind," she said with a smile.

"What is your mutation? I know it's in the enhanced vision category -- we do have a few people with vision-related mutation gifts, although that does seem to be a pretty rare grouping."

"Yes, at least in my experience, mutations rarely affect vision," Diana answered. "But I did know someone at college whose vision was kind of super-acute. She could see things that the rest of us would need a telescope or a microscope for. Mine's something different. I call it 'voluntary transparency'. I can see normally, but I can see through things at will, too." She looked down at Jean's desk. "You have a framed picture of you with Scott Summers in your middle desk drawer," she added, by way of demonstration. "It's a nice picture." Looking around, she pointed to a watercolor painting of a forest scene, hanging on the far wall. "It used to hang there, didn't it?"

Jean looked surprised. "Okay, I give up," she said with a smile. "I understand how you saw the picture -- looking through the desk. But how did you know where it was hanging?"

Diana smiled back. "Oh, there's a dark spot under the painting -- just the right size. I guess the wallpaper has faded a bit with all the sunlight you get in this room. Of course it was partly guesswork. You could have had any 8 x 10 picture on that spot. But there's only one that's framed and in your office..."

"So, you're not just a doctor and a mutant but a detective, too. I'm impressed, both with the attention to detail and the deduction."

"Elementary, my dear Dr. Grey," Diana replied, laughing.

"Well, Holmes," Jean added, "There's one thing you didn't figure out. We do have someone here at the school with the same mutation gift you have. And you've even met him. Oliver -- the boy who's taking Susan on a tour. The professor told him to come in by gesturing. He saw that through the closed door. Did you miss that?"

"I did wonder about it at the time. I thought he was probably telling him telepathically and just gesturing to let us know what he was doing." She stopped to think for a minute. "Really? He has the same power as me?"

"Yes, and I sure wish I'd known you when he was coming into his powers. Oliver really couldn't see much at all for a while there and I had no one to consult with on how to help him."

Diana closed her eyes, remembering. "I wish I'd known you then, too. What a scary time that was for me -- I'd like to have been able to reassure someone else going through it. I had months where my brain just couldn't make sense of the images my eyes saw. I worried I'd be effectively blind all my life and there was nothing I could do about it. Believe me, high school was hard enough without suddenly finding out I was a mutant and going blind."

"I know. It tends to be a difficult time for most kids, and more so for mutants. I'm so glad we're able to help a few kids through it."

Diana nodded in agreement. "It would have been wonderful to have this kind of a school when I was a teen. I felt totally on my own. I was so relieved when my vision cleared and I could see through objects in a controlled way, only when I wanted to."

"So that's why you call it voluntary transparency?"

"Yes. What does Oliver call his powers?"

"X-ray vision," Jean answered and Diana cringed. "Don't blame him, though," she added. "I came up with it. I do agree that it's not as... dignified as your term."

"Not dignified? Oh, I think it's worse than that," Diana answered. "X-ray vision," she repeated derisively. "No offense, but I think that it sounds like something out of a comic book."

"No offense, but I think that it sounds like something out of a comic book."

Scott shrugged, unconcerned. "No doubt it does. Hey, we were kids; we thought 'X-Men' sounded cool and impressive. Mysterious, too. Scary to the bad guys, you know?" Logan looked at him askance and Scott laughed. "Okay, so we were young and dumb. What else can I say?"

"Nothing. That's enough of an excuse. Or it was for back then. Why didn't you ever change it?"

Scott shrugged again. "It kind of stuck. We got used to it; the kids at school like it. And now it's just who we are, how we think of ourselves."

Neither of them said anything for a few minutes, sitting there in the woods. "So, do you ever feel a little silly with it now? Embarrassed? Running around in black leather outfits, calling yourselves by code names, still acting like the world's divided into good guys and bad guys?"

"Not really. Maybe I should. But it's easy to see someone who wants to lock up all the mutants in the country as a bad guy. Or someone who's trying to start a war between mutants and the rest of humanity. I don't think it stops me from seeing the complexity of the human condition, really. It doesn't preclude having a more nuanced view of most people and situations." Scott gestured towards the cabin. "Isn't that how you see him?" he asked. "I know I do. That's why we put all this time and effort into tracking him down here, isn't it?"

"And why we're freezing our asses off in these woods waiting for him to come back to his hideout," Logan added. "Oh yeah, I've got no problem with that. Believe me, I hate Creed's guts." He mused on that a bit more. "I'm not saying none of it's for real. I don't believe in God but I do believe in evil. And I sure as hell believe there's people better off dead. It's the good guy stuff I think is... I don't know. Unrealistic, I guess. I don't think anybody's good, anybody's a hero. It's all pretend or something."

"Maybe not pretend. More like something we're striving for? If we help more than we hinder, do more good than harm, then that's probably the closest any of us get to being heroes in this life. And I do think we've done a lot of good." Logan saw the red glow behind the dark glasses fade as Scott closed his eyes. "Okay, so it does sound like a name out of a comic book or a movie or something. And maybe we are a little self-important now and then. Still, I'm proud of the X-Men, Logan. I wouldn't do this if I didn't believe in it -- I don't exactly love risking my life and the lives of the people I'm closest to. There are plenty of other things I could be doing with my life. I'm doing this because I think it's worthwhile."

"I guess you do. Me, I'm not so sure. But I didn't get into it like you did. I imagine you were pretty ready to believe in good guys by the time the Professor found you."

"Yeah. Part of it is just how I got into it, sure. I was 16 years old and had seen enough misery and despair for someone twice that age. I was sure primed for someone telling me that there are heroes in the world and that I could be one of them. Plus I was sorely in need of a father, trying desperately to forget the one I'd had. Charles offered me family and stability and hope and a vision for the future. I would have done anything for him." Scott thought some more and then continued. "So, maybe I believe in the X-Men, in our role, in part because I got talked into it by a pretty persuasive guy at an impressionable point in my life. But I do believe in it, still, with everything I've seen and everything that's happened since then. I think we've saved a lot of people, helped a lot of people. As corny as it sounds, I do think we're a force for good in the world. I think we are heroes." He opened his eyes again, looked at Logan. "I think you are, too. There are a lot of times we needed you, relied on you. Times we wouldn't have come out of a mission alive without you."

Logan kept his eyes fixed on the cabin. "Yeah, well it's a little different for me. I had a lot of years before I hooked up with you geeks. And some of that was just on my own and making my own way. But a whole lot of it wasn't. A whole lot of it was stuff I'm thinking I might've been better off never remembering. This I know for sure - if I'm gonna end my life saying I did more good than harm I better live a long, long time."

"Well, good thing that's one of your mutation gifts then, isn't it?" Scott said, smiling. Logan chuckled. After a pause, Scott added, "I think you're awfully hard on yourself, Logan. Sometimes I think you're pretty hard on me, but you're way harder on yourself. I think you have done a lot of good in the world. And I think a lot of the harm you're tormented by remembering wasn't even anything you did. It was done with you as Weapon X's instrument. That's not the same thing." Scott placed his gloved hand on Logan's thigh. Logan didn't respond or look at him, but he put his own hand on top of Scott's leather-clad one for a minute.

They sat there in silence. Scott strained to keep the distant cabin in sight as the sun set, holding his hand over his eyes as a shield from the fire red sun. "Are you sure you're close enough to see him?" he said, after a long while. "Maybe he sneaked in the back while we were sitting here."

"Well, there's no back door, you know. He'd have to have gone in through the window and I'm sure I would've heard that. And how would he have gotten there to do it? If he came by car we would've both heard it. And if somehow he's got the idea we're after him and he comes on foot to be quieter, well I'd hear it anyway. Plus I could smell him if he was anywhere around here. You and me are the only humans anywhere in this whole area, Cyclops." He looked up at the sky. "We may be here much of the night, you know. Looks like it's shaping up to be a clear night. And almost a full moon. That help you any?"

"I can see enough to manage. Sure it would be easier for me if we can take him in daylight, but we have to take whatever chance we get." He paused again. "Meanwhile we wait some more." He exhaled loudly, stretching his arms and legs out.

"You bored?"

Scott nodded. "But I can think of a way to pass the time," he said, hand sliding up Logan's leg, stroking him through his jeans, starting to feel him getting hard.

"I don't know. It's awfully cold for that, don't you think?"

"What? You afraid you'll shrivel up as soon as I unzip your pants?"

"I don't shrivel."

"I've noticed. It's one of your more endearing characteristics." They both smiled. Scott continued to stroke Logan slowly, feeling him hard through the denim. "Anyway, my mouth's warm. And my hands, at least in the gloves."

Logan leaned back against the tree and sighed. Scott took off one glove, unzipped his lover's jeans and pulled out Logan's cock, encircling the shaft with his other still gloved hand. He slid the bare hand into Logan's pants, stroking his thighs, glad of the skin-to-skin contact. "Does the leather feel good on you?" he asked, rubbing up and down with his fist.

Logan nodded, closing his eyes briefly. "It feels different. Rough, but good. Keep doing that. But I want your mouth, too," he added, pushing Scott's head down.

Scott pushed his tongue on the top of Logan's cock, swirling it around and pushing down as he continued to stroke steadily. Then he slowly took the head into his mouth, pushing it against the inside of his cheek, rubbing with tongue and leather-clad hand together. The naked hand moved up under jacket and shirt, feeling warm skin and hair on Logan's chest, squeezing first one nipple, then the other.

Logan was breathing hard. His eyes were open now, tongue licking his lips as he watched Scott's head moving up and down on his erection, watched the leather glove stroking the root and then cradling his balls as his lover took him all the way in. He put his hands on Scott's head and moaned a little. "That's good, Scott. Yeah, just like that. Suck hard. God, your hands feel good on me, too. And your tongue. Yes... More... More..."

It was almost like a whispered chant, the repetition of "more". Starting slowly and then building speed he said it again and again. Quietly, breathlessly. Scott took his cue from Logan's sounds, pacing the motions of his mouth and his hands to match the speed of Logan's pleas, moving up and down with his hot, wet mouth. Working Logan with his tongue, his cheek, his fingers, savoring the taste and the feelings.

The repetition of "more" dissolved into hard and heavy breathing with a kind of a growling moan, no words now as Logan came close to orgasm. His fingers in Scott's hair, he pulled hard as he came deep in Scott's throat. The motion pulled his lover's head up so the last of the cum spurted right in his mouth.

Scott sat up and kissed Logan hard, pushing his tongue all around the inside of Logan's mouth. "Taste what I did to you?" he said, afterwards.

"That's my line."

"Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery." Scott turned back to the cabin, realizing the sun had finished setting while he had been otherwise occupied, squinting to see as well as he could in the dark. "Are you sure he didn't sneak in while I was sucking you? It seemed like your attention wasn't on the cabin for a while there."

"He's not here. I tell you; I could smell him if he was."

"I know. You're handy to have around, you know, even if you don't think you're a hero."

"You're handy to have around, even if you think you are one."

They sat there side by side, each thinking his own thoughts for a while. Logan broke the silence. "So what's the deal with Worthington? He's not into this hero business? Or not like you, anyway, right?"

"Why do you say that? I know you don't like him, but you've got to admit he's an invaluable team member."

"Well, in combat, sure. But he sure won't be a hero to that Jamie kid, and he's the only one who really could. What's the deal there?"

Scott shook his head. "You got a year or two? I could try to explain it. If I understood it, that is, which I don't entirely. Yes, Warren really is just the guy to help Jamie. I love it when I can pair the kids with adults who have the same or similar mutations, let them see that there are people who have it under control, give them some hope for their future. But Warren totally refuses to have anything to do with Jamie. And he's a kid who needs somebody special in his life after what his parents did to him."

"They really cut off his wings?"

Scott nodded solemnly. "They had them surgically removed. Can you imagine? Hank was almost incoherent with rage when he heard. For a change he used language a lot stronger than 'oh my stars and garters.' He wasn't focused on the parents -- he figured they're scum already. He was totally livid at the idea that a doctor agreed to do it, that someone could take an oath to 'first do no harm' and then mutilate an innocent child like that. Our gentle Dr. McCoy was wielding a sharp scalpel and muttering about what he'd cut off if he ever got his hands on the surgeon that did it." He shook his head in disbelief at the memory. "Thank God they grew back."

"Will he be able to fly?"

"We can't know for sure. Jamie's growth seems to be following the same pattern as Warren's, so he's a few years away from flying yet. It's possible there's irreparable damage. I sure hope not. Hank thinks there isn't, at least not from the surgery. He said the wings seem structurally intact. Jamie does have some bad scars on his back, though, that he got later. They're cause for concern because he's a keloid former."

"A what?"

"Keloid? Some people have sort of out-of-control scarring. The scar tissue just keeps forming, more than necessary to cover the wound. They can have a small mole or something removed and end up with a larger scar than the original growth."

"It's a mutation?"

"No. Well, not like our kind of mutation. I guess it's originally some sort of mutant gene, but it's part of normal variation. Maybe it was adaptive at one time, before modern medicine. Maybe they could recover from wounds that other people died from, just because they formed more scar tissue to close them. But now it's pretty much just a problem. So Hank's a little worried that the scar tissue might interfere with the wing growth. But he thinks it's a low probability that it would and figures we can deal with it if it does. Right now he's just monitoring the situation."

"The scars aren't from the surgery?" Scott shook his head. "Well, what then?"

"When the wings started growing back they tried to burn them off."

Logan said nothing while that sank in. "They found a doctor willing to do that to him?" he asked incredulously, after a while.

Scott shook his head. "His parents did it to him themselves."

"I tell you, some people shouldn't be allowed to have kids."

"Well, the court agreed with you there, Logan. Surgery to make a mutant kid into a pseudo-normal one is apparently within parental discretion; setting fire to your child's back isn't. That's how he came to be a ward of the state and ended up with us."

"And Worthington won't have anything to do with him, after all that? You'd think he'd at least be thrilled to meet another winged mutant. But how can he hear a story like that and not want to do what he can for the kid?"

"Oh I don't think it's not wanting to, really." Scott tried to think of a way to explain Warren's reluctance. "He's scared to. I know it seems to you like Warren's always gotten what he wanted, like he's had everything handed to him all his life."

"Yeah, including you."

Scott ignored that and continued. "He had a pretty horrific childhood, Logan. He wasn't cut or burned but he might as well have been for all the psychological abuse he suffered. I don't think I even know half of it but what I know is enough to make me marvel that he emerged basically okay.

"And he just doesn't trust that he is okay, you know? He thinks he's too screwed up to help a kid, thinks the way he was raised makes him poison to children. He's afraid that he has no idea what a normal childhood would be like or how to talk to a child other than the ways he was talked to, ways he'd never want to repeat. I think it's a lot of why he never married, never settled down with one woman. He was scared of the next step -- kids. I've sort of wondered if this thing with Laura will get him over that hump. He seems really serious about her." He shrugged again. "I guess time will tell. Love doesn't conquer all, but sometimes it motivates people to make real changes in their lives."

"Yeah, I've heard of that happening."

Scott smiled at that. "Anyway, it's not for lack of wanting to help that he's refusing. And I still have hopes that he'll change his mind." He paused, not knowing whether to say what he was thinking. "He's a lot like you, you know." Logan scowled. "No, I mean it. Not in superficial ways but in how he views himself. He's great on the team -- fearless, skilled, fierce when he needs to be and fiercely protective of his teammates. He's happy to be an X-Man if all he's got to do is fight, get hurt, maybe even die. None of that scares him. But he's frightened to death of being anybody's hero."

"He's frightened to death of being anyone's hero." Jamie said it quietly but emphatically.

"Nah. He's indecisive." The scorn was evident in Jubilee's voice, as well as in her previous comments about the inadvisability of admitting a "little boy" into the class.

Jamie shrugged, unconcerned. "Well, of course he's indecisive. Everybody knows that. The question is why is he indecisive."

"Because he's not sure. He doesn't know if it was really murder." Jubilee's answer sounded tentative, not so confident anymore.

"But he has to know," Kitty interjected. "The ghost tells him; he uses the players to get his proof. What more does he need?"

Charles decided it was time to direct the discussion a little. "That's one of the central questions of the play, Kitty. What more does he need? Why can't he make a decision? Scholars, students and theatergoers have been arguing over that one for the past 400 years. I'm intrigued by Jamie's take on it. Can you tell us a little more about the fear you think he's experiencing?" He turned towards the youngest member of the class.

Jamie paused, waiting until everyone looked his way expectantly. "Here's what I think," he said, finally. "He's in this irresolvable dilemma. There's no answer that's going to please his dad, going to make things right between them. Even in death he can't make peace with him. If he avenges his death, then yeah, he's the hero. To his people, to the girl he wants, to his father's ghost. Gets rid of the evil uncle, takes the throne that's rightfully his. But he can't do that. No way."

"Why not?" Jubilee meant to say it in a tone of derision but her curiosity was evident.

"Don't you see? Then he upstages him; then the son has outdone the father. His father was killed, vanquished by Claudius. If he kills him and takes over, well then he's just made his father look like a dork, unable to handle the man his kid could. But if he doesn't then his father's murderer is ruling in his place, making a mockery of the late king and of him. Then he's just a patsy. So he's terrified to be a hero and ashamed to be a weakling and doesn't see any course but those two. Of course he's paralyzed with indecision. Who wouldn't be? It can only end in death."

No one said anything for a long time. Charles Xavier thought, not for the first time, that the red-haired boy sitting in front of him was no ordinary twelve year old. Finally, he remarked, "A very interesting and novel interpretation, Jamie."

Jamie's freckled face broke into a wide grin. "Novel? Is that a polite way of telling me it's all wrong?"

The professor chuckled. "No, not at all. I've just never heard his motivations interpreted quite like that. I don't think this is the kind of thing where there's a right or a wrong answer." He paused in thought. "Well, I don't think there's one right answer, anyway. I suppose there are plenty of wrong ones -- ones that aren't true to the text, aren't consistent with what's presented in the play. But there are plenty of right ones, too. If your explanation gives you a deeper appreciation for the play, then it is right, right for you. I know it's one I'm going to think about some more." He turned to the board and wrote, "Why is Hamlet indecisive?" then turned back to the class. "Okay, class, let's all think about it some more. I want you each to come up with your own answers and write a 1000 word essay for me for next week's class. Make sure that you support your explanation with quotes from the play."

The bell rang but nobody stood up right away. Charles looked round the room, surprised. Kitty raised her hand. "Professor?" she said. "Do you know when Mr. Summers is coming back?" She blushed a little and added, "Not that we aren't happy for you to teach us..."

Charles chuckled again. "I'm eager for him to come back, too, Kitty. I'm not offended. And no, I don't know. This mission is somewhat open-ended. It's hard to tell when they'll be finished." He paused, then smiled broadly, saying, "No. I take that back. Mr. Summers is en route in the Blackbird right now. I'm sure you'll all see him at dinner. Class dismissed."

"So does that mean we don't have to do the essay?" Jubilee asked hopefully.

"The assignment still stands. I'll tell Mr. Summers to expect your papers next week."

"So your mission was a success?" Charles asked tentatively, in a tone of concern. They were sitting in Scott's office, where they had been reviewing all that had happened at the school in his absence. Charles had tried a couple of times to gently steer the conversation to the search for Sabretooth, but Scott seemed to be avoiding any discussion of the mission. Charles had been concerned about Scott's seeming obsession with Creed for some time and had been on tenterhooks waiting to hear the outcome of the effort to find him.

Scott's uncharacteristic reticence both frustrated and alarmed the professor, intensifying his worries about his field leader's emotional state. Not only had Scott said little since returning a couple of hours ago, but he had also been keeping his mental shields active. Shields Charles knew he could penetrate by force if necessary, but his respect for Scott's privacy prevented him from doing so in anything less than an emergency. Charles had made a point of keeping open to receiving Scott's thoughts throughout the duration of the mission, but Scott had rarely checked in and had offered no information on the progress they were making. Other than the brief mental message during Shakespeare class saying he was returning shortly, Scott's mind hadn't spoken to Charles at all.

Scott considered the question and finally nodded. "It's over. And that's enough of a success, as far as I'm concerned."

"Where's Logan?"

Scott shrugged. "I'm not sure. Toronto, last I saw him. I left him with Mac. We've got loose ends to tie up and he thought Mac could help him."

"What kind of loose ends?"

In spite of Scott's calm demeanor and soft tone, Charles felt that Cyclops was staring hard at him, angrily. He knew he wouldn't really be able to tell if Scott were doing that, his eyes as inaccessible as ever. Still, he felt unnerved in the way one does when being glared at. "Sabretooth -- Creed - there are things about him we need to find out still. Somehow he managed to elude capture for a long time. We've been able to piece together some of the whys and hows of that, but not all. He had a sort of immunity for a few years after the Weapon X program -- kind of a precursor of the Witness Protection Program, it seems. And then later as part of Magneto's gang he got a lot of protection of the illegal variety. Lehnsherr got his men off the crime scene uneventfully most of the time. And when he didn't he had the money and the contacts to get them released the few times they were arrested. But none of that explains how he managed to be at large for the past three years, how he got away after Lehnsherr was captured. He was right there, too. But somehow he escaped." Scott paused and the feeling that he was glaring at Charles became even more intense as he continued. "And didn't just escape. As far as we can determine nobody's even looking for him, no Wanted posters with seven-foot mutants in any post office I've seen."

"Logan thinks Mac has information on Creed? That he knows more than he told you before?"

Scott shook his head. "No, we're sure Mac told us everything he knew." Charles wasn't sure whether the stress on Mac's name was really there or he imagined it. "But Mac's got contacts in the FBI and the Federal Department of Security -- U.S. and Canadian anti-terrorist agencies work together a lot. Logan thinks with Mac's help he can find something out from U.S. federal government sources."

"What do you think?"

"Me? I think the answer's a little closer to home."

Scott didn't speak to Charles again that day. They nodded hello at dinner but Scott was inundated with students welcoming him back and barely spoke to any of the other faculty. After dinner he pleaded fatigue and skipped the faculty meeting, retiring early to catch up on some of the sleep he'd missed while tracking Sabretooth.

Although Scott went to bed early his sleep was troubled. He woke repeatedly in the night, plagued by nightmares. In one he opened his eyes to kill Sabretooth but realized too late he'd blasted the wrong man. Kneeling on the frozen ground, he cried bitter tears over the lifeless figure of Charles Xavier.

When Scott awoke, his face was stained with tears and it took him a minute to realize it had been a dream. The bedside clock read 2:16. Shaking, he got up and made himself a drink. Pacing back and forth across his room, he thought about the dream, the mission he'd just returned from, the conversation with Charles. Turning it all over and over in his mind, wondering what to do next.

Eventually he managed to fall asleep again, noting that he'd need to get up in a couple of hours. No dreams this time, just peaceful slumber. And then suddenly he was awake, thinking he heard someone in his room. Before he could get up and investigate, the intruder was on top of him, his whole body pushing down on Scott's back, strong hands holding him by the wrists, a powerful head pushing his face into the pillow, not letting him turn his head. Finally he managed to move enough to speak. "Don't you ever knock?" he asked.

Logan rolled off of him and chuckled. "No, I don't. Not when I come to see you. I thought you would have picked up on that by now. For a smart guy you're sometimes kind of slow on the uptake."

Scott smiled at that. Logan handed him his glasses and he put them on, looked at his lover. "When did you get here?"

"Just now. I came to see you first. You flattered?"

"I might be if I thought anybody else wouldn't kick you out if you attempted to pay a visit at" - glancing at the clock -- "4:22 in the morning." Scott yawned. "I didn't think I'd see you for another few days. Have you been to DC and back already?"

Logan shook his head. "I can still go -- I've got contact names and Mac'll set it up for me -- but I don't know that it's worth it. Mac had copies of the FBI reports and the reports of the arresting officers. That's the best I'd hoped for in Washington, anyway."

"What do they say about Creed and Toynbee?"

Logan looked down at Scott, stroked the side of his face. "Nothing, Cyclops. I brought copies if you want to read them, but there's nothing there to help us. It's written like Magneto did it all by himself, like it took all of us to subdue one old man. And they comment on that, even, thinking it's evidence of just how powerful he is. It's part of why they took him so seriously, went about devising a special prison for him." He paused, remembering reading the reports. "It's like the rest of them were never there. Mystique, well, they probably never saw her, at least looking like her. And I guess Toad might have escaped swimming after 'Ro blasted him into the water, but I can't really see it happening like that with all those cop boats out there. And no mention of Sabretooth, who'd kind of stand out in a crowd."

"What do you think it means?"

"Sorry to say it, but I think it means you were right. Your idea is the only explanation that could work."

"And 'when you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth'?" Scott sighed. "I guess you're right. I didn't want it to be the answer, anything but this."

"I know."

They lay side by side on the bed in silence. After a long time, Scott said, "So what are your plans now that this is over? What are you going to do next?"

Logan didn't answer at first. "I'm not sure," he said slowly, "but there's a couple things I'm thinking about doing."

"Like what?"

"Like sucking your cock, real slow, and not letting you come until you cry and beg for it. Then when I'm rock hard from the taste of you and you're all relaxed and pliant, fucking your brains out." He smiled to see Scott getting hard listening to him, and reached out to stroke him.

"Not yet, Logan. I want to, you know it. I just... I want to know more about what you're thinking first, what you're planning. I'd like to know if this is the last time. Are you staying or going?"

Logan leaned over Scott, whispered in his ear. "Staying." Then he licked all around his ear and pushed his tongue inside. Scott put his arms around him and they held each other for a minute. "I can't promise forever," Logan continued. "Still. It's just not in me to think like that. Not anymore. But I'm trying to stay with you, trying to be honest with you. And at least we don't have Sabretooth to worry about now." He paused. "Are you okay with that, Scott? With what happened?"

Scott nodded. "Yeah. I think I did the right thing."

"We. We did the right thing. We tracked him together, we decided together. As it turned out there were plenty of ways we could've killed him -- it didn't have to be your blasts. What we did was both of us, a team."

"You really feel like that?" Logan nodded solemnly, staring right at Scott. "Thanks. I appreciate that. It's good to feel I'm not in this alone. And I understand you can't make long term promises." And then, with a sly grin, "But in the short term: what was that you said about sucking me off and then fucking my brains out?"

Charles sighed. Neither of them spoke for several minutes. Spring had come to Westchester and the enclosed garden was awash in colorful flowering trees. The professor looked around at them, wondering if they looked at all appealing to Scott, seeing them only in shades of red. Finally he said, "I'm so sorry, Scott." Scott looked away, didn't answer. "If I'd had any idea what they were planning, I never would have done it. I'd never have forgiven myself if you hadn't escaped from them." He smiled ruefully. "I'm not sure I can, anyway, even with you here and safe."

"Thanks for telling me about it, Charles." The bitter sarcasm in Scott's voice was a tone Charles rarely heard. "I've been agonizing for ages over what to do about that guy, you know. At least since Logan told me what he'd done to him. Maybe ever since they kidnapped me. And all that time I had no idea it was thanks to you that he was at large."

"I'm sorry. I don't know what else to say."

"You could tell me why the fuck you did it for starters. Why did you arrange to have a psychotic murderer and rapist out on the loose after he was captured by the cops?"

"Erik asked me to." Charles Xavier sighed deeply. "I know -- that's no reason. But it's the only one I've got. He told me he'd coerced them into joining him, that without him they'd just live normal lives, give it all up. Creed and Toynbee didn't seem like they'd be a threat on their own, without him telling them what to do." His tone turned bitter. "But of course he was still telling them what to do. I didn't know it, I swear. I didn't know he wanted to keep the gang intact in order to plan his escape. I had no idea they'd come after you."

Scott didn't respond to that, just said in a dull voice, "What did you do to help them escape?"

"I took over the minds of the arresting officers, made them release Sabretooth and Toad. Then I erased their memories of them." Scott looked at him in disbelief. "I know," Charles continued. "Mind control, memory alteration. The gifts I've always said are too dangerous to use except in dire emergencies. It was a mistake to use them for this, a mistake to believe Erik, a terrible one. I know that now."

Scott got up off the bench he'd been sitting on and paced back and forth in the garden. Finally, turning back to Charles, he said, "You're a goddamn telepath, Charles! How the hell could he lie to you and get away with it? What is it with you and Magneto, anyway? What does he have to do -- how many times does he have to try to destroy us -- before you stop thinking he's your friend? He's no friend to you or any of us, Charles. And you were all gung ho to find out what he was thinking before he grabbed Rogue, when his helmet shielded him from you. Why didn't you read his mind when you had the chance?"

Charles shrugged. "I didn't even try -- I believed him. Scott, he sounded so sorry, so miserable with how it had all turned out. I just swallowed his lies whole. I wish I could turn time back and undo what I did, but I can't." He paused, thinking what to say next. "I've often thought I should go after Sabretooth, try to undo the damage. I'm sorry I left you to do that. You shouldn't have had to." He reached out and touched Scott on the arm. "I'm sorry," he said again. "It was a colossal error in judgment. I don't know what else to say."

"There's nothing else to say," Scott said, the bitter tone still there but receding a bit. "I'm really mad at you right now, Charles. Both for the 'colossal error in judgment' and for lying to me about it for years." He sighed. "But I do thank you for the apology. And for telling me the truth now."

Charles nodded. "Okay. I can accept your anger. I deserve it."

"Yeah, you do." Scott almost smiled. "I'll get over it. Eventually. So you almost got me raped and murdered? Hey, it wasn't intentional. And you did it for an old friend." Charles laughed at that and then Scott did smile, flashing that sardonic grin. The smile went away as quickly as it had appeared and he added, grimly, "Anyway, it's all over now, for better or for worse."

"Are you going to be okay? Do you think you can come to grips with having killed him? Or is it too soon to ask that?"

The sardonic smile came back. "I didn't kill him." Without another word, Scott stood up and walked out of the garden. Charles Xavier stared in surprise and wonder at the retreating figure.

Scott was reviewing Jamie's course schedule with him when the professor came to his office. "I'm sorry to interrupt," he said. "I didn't realize you had an appointment."

"That's okay," Scott replied. "We were just finishing. I'm trying to catch up on advisement sessions."

The professor turned to Jamie. "How's your essay coming?"

"I just turned it in," the boy said, smiling, tapping a blue folder on Scott's desk.

"You're in for a treat," Charles said to Scott. "Jamie has a really fascinating take on Hamlet's indecision."

After Jamie left, Scott asked, "How has he been?"

"Better than you might think. Between the horrific experiences with his parents and his extreme precocity -- I really expected him to be much more obviously damaged, much less social. I know there have to be scars, but he appears to be functioning very well. He seems so confident, so comfortable."

"Is he making friends?"

Charles shook his head. "I don't think so. Not yet, anyway. He's pleasant to everyone but he doesn't seem to be close to any of them in particular. I think he just can't relate to kids his own age and the ones he's in class with aren't willing to befriend a twelve-year-old boy."

"I wish I could get Warren to mentor him. It's just what Jamie needs."

"Oh, I don't know. Yes, getting close to another winged mutant has an obvious advantage. But kids find role models on their own, you know." And then, after a pause, "I read a draft of his essay. He does an interesting comparison between Hamlet and Prufrock." Charles and Scott smiled at each other.

"You didn't come here to talk about Jamie, did you?" The professor shook his head. "You want to know why I didn't kill Sabretooth."

"So now you're the telepath."

"No, I just know you well. And know that I haven't been talking to you like I usually do, haven't been telling you what I'm feeling." Scott sighed. "It's partly because I'm still so mad at you, Charles. It's hard - I'm not going to get over this in a couple days, you know. I love you but this is a hard thing to forgive."

Charles nodded in sympathetic understanding. Scott continued. "It's not just that, though. This is all really hard to talk about still. I'm still trying to understand it myself. Were you so sure I'd kill him?"

"Yes, I was."

"Yeah, well so was I." Scott closed his eyes, remembering. "But when it came down to it, I..."

"You couldn't?"

Scott shook his head. "I didn't want to."

He turned away from Charles, looking out the window, but not seeing the mansion grounds at all, seeing Sabretooth's ramshackle hideout once again in his mind's eye. And then his shields were down and Charles could see it, too, as Scott let him into his mind. Together they went into the shack, saw Sabretooth lying there. Passed out drunk, defenseless. One-legged, still. So, the leg hadn't grown back. And just looking like a sickly old man. Had the healing factor finally worn out? Had his body chemistry been forever altered by the loss of the leg, by the intense healing required to survive that attack? Scott's mind had only the questions, not the answers.

"I could have done it then. No problem. Dead easy. But look at him," he added, the image in his mind growing more vivid for Charles's benefit. "What kind of threat is he to me? To us? To anyone? He's old and sick, dying. Hiding out there and barely getting by. Drinking himself to death. Let him kill himself slowly -- I don't need to do him the favor of speeding the process up." He stopped to think a little more. "His death will come soon enough and it won't diminish me. But killing him like that - in cold blood and just for revenge - it would have, I think. I am involved in mankind, Charles. I'm not someone who tracks down a pathetic old man and murders him, even one who has lived as evil a life as Creed has. It's not how I want to think of myself. It's not who I want to be."

Charles nodded in understanding, his mind sending Scott waves of love and approval, along with bitter regret for his own role in placing him in the position of making that decision. They sat there companionably in silence for a while. Finally, Charles asked, "And Logan? Was he okay with your decision?"

Scott nodded. "More than okay. I think it's kind of a breakthrough for him. He doesn't hate Creed any less than he did, you know. Any less than I do. But he didn't want me to have to do it, didn't want me to have to change. I feel like he put me first, Charles, considered my needs foremost. He has totally supported me, at least so far. I'm hoping he'll feel we did the right thing as time goes on."

"And you? Do you think you'll feel you did the right thing? As time goes on?"

Scott shrugged. "Time will tell. I've been thinking about that. I've spent so much time regretting not having killed him the first time Logan and I took him on. I was so sure that I'd do it this time, that I had to in order to make up for that. And then there I am, with what may be my only chance to kill him and I don't take it. Will I feel next week or next month or next year that I totally blew it? Will I regret this decision, too? I don't think so, but I can't really know."

"What if you do, Scott? What will you do if you do find you regret it?"

The sardonic smile came back. "So, I'll deal with it. You know I can do that, Charles. I know how to live with regret. It won't be my first time."

The End

Literature Guide for Readers of Commencement

The incarnation of Scott Summers who appears in my fiction is an English teacher in addition to being a mutant superhero (the movie doesn't specify what he teaches, only that he teaches at the Academy). Because Scott is the central character in most of my fiction, I've gotten into the habit of using a lot of quotes and literary references, primarily reflecting his literary interests. The following provides supplemental information and sources for further reading on literature referenced in Commencement. As has been the case with my other literature guides, this document contains spoilers for the series and should be read after the stories themselves.

Poetry
John Donne. "For Whom the Bell Tolls"
This poem, which was featured in Adult Education, makes a return appearance here. It begins with the famous line "No man is an island." The wording of the line "Each man's death diminishes me for I am involved in mankind" had sparked a discussion of inclusiveness and specificity in poetic language in Scott's poetry class in the first series of this trilogy. In the last story in Commencement, Scott paraphrases that line when talking to Charles about his decision not to kill Sabretooth, saying that he does not feel that Creed's death will diminish him but that killing him would have. He reasserts that he sees himself as someone "involved in mankind" and says that killing a defenseless old man does not comport with that self-image. You can read the poem in its entirety at http://djryan.tripod.com/inspirations/poems/bell.html
T.S. Eliot. "The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock"
This poem has shown up, in one form or another, in almost all of my series. It's one of Scott's favorites and he has presumably introduced it to Jamie, who references the poem in his Hamlet essay. One of Eliot's best known poems, it is available many places, including http://www.bartleby.com/198/1.html.
William Shakespeare. Sonnet 30
This sonnet, about melancholy and a tendency to self-pity, is one with pretty universal appeal. Will tells of how sad memories can kind of overpower someone, resulting in tears and grief. It ends on a much happier note, though, as he thinks of his lover (the "Fair Youth", whose identity is subject of much debate), saying:
"But if the while I think on thee, dear friend,
All losses are restored and sorrows end."
Scott quotes the beginning of the sonnet to Logan when he tells him he tried to forget the traumatic experience of killing his own father, saying he didn't want to "summon up remembrance of things past". The phrase "remembrance of things past" is also the title of the English translation of Proust's novel, A la Recherche du Temps Perdu, which was featured in Safe House. The English title clearly comes from this sonnet, though, since it is not a translation of the original French title.
William Butler Yeats. "The Lady's First Song"
Scott quotes this poem in describing his feelings for Toby: "I am in love and that is my shame." The narrator of the poem goes on to say that she is "no better than a beast upon all fours." Read the poem at http://meltingpot.fortunecity.com/cayman/851/ladysfirst.html

Plays
William Shakespeare. Hamlet
In the fourth story in this series, there is a class discussion and follow-up assignment on the question of Hamlet's indecision. Jamie's take on Hamlet's relationship with his father fits in with the father/son theme that permeates this series. The discussion of Hamlet's inability to decide whether or not to kill Claudius echoes Scott's indecision with regard to killing Creed. Hamlet is available many places on the 'net. I like www.shakespeare-online.com for its comfortable format and interesting commentary. Hamlet can be found at http://www.shakespeare-online.com/plays/hamletscenes.asp
Richard II
The common expression "if looks could kill" is a paraphrase of a description of Death personified in Richard II: "to monarchize, be fear'd and kill with looks." Scott says in the first story that he was thinking "if looks could kill he'd be dead" just before he came into his powers. This echoes the use of the same phrase in I Know What You Are. In the first story of that series Logan says that he would have liked to have known Scott when he was trying to kill himself, that it would have been nice to know then that looks can kill. Read Richard II at http://www.shakespeare-online.com/plays/richardiiscenes.asp

Novels
Sir Arthur Conan Doyle.
Conan Doyle's Sherlock Holmes novels are referenced a couple of times. Jean and Diana have a little Holmes/Watson banter while discussion Diana's powers. Although Holmes is famously thought to have said "Elementary, my dear Watson" that particular sentence does not appear in any of the books. It has shown up, though, in myriad theatrical and cinematic adaptations. The closest he comes to saying that in Conan Doyle's original work is in "The Crooked Man", where there is this exchange between Watson and Holmes:
"Excellent!" I cried
"Elementary," said he.
Scott's statement that "when you eliminate the impossible whatever is left, however improbable, is the truth" is an actual Conan Doyle quote. It comes from "The Sign of Four." Read the Project Gutenberg edition of the Holmes books at http://www.fortunecity.com/victorian/richmond/88/doyle.htm#holmes

Miscellaneous
Hippocrates. The Oath.
The Hippocratic Oath is traditionally said by doctors entering medical practice. The phrase "First do no harm", which Scott cites with regard to the doctor who mutilated Jamie, is frequently thought to be part of it. The sentiment is expressed although that phrase does not appear in most translations. My research indicated that it crept in in a Latin translation of the Oath although it's not in the original Greek. Read the Oath at http://classics.mit.edu/Hippocrates/hippooath.html
Charles Caleb Colton.
Nineteenth century English author and clergyman Colton is famous for his aphorisms. Scott quotes one of them, "Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery", when Logan jokingly says "That's my line."
Publius Vergilius Maro (Virgil). Eclogues, no 10, 1.69
Classic Roman poet Virgil is best known for the Aeneid. He also wrote a collection of pastoral poems called the Eclogues. One of them has the famous line "Amor vincit omnia" - "love conquers all". In the third story in this series, Scott says that he doesn't believe that love conquers all, but does think it sometimes motivates people to make real changes in their lives. He's talking about Warren, but he and Logan share a smile of recognition at the changes the two of them have made. Read the Project Gutenberg edition of the Eclogues at http://books.mirror.org/gb.virgil.html#eclogues.