Safe House
by Mo

Pairing: Various
Summary: Jean-Paul and Adam deal with some issues in their relationship as the Mawrter Mutant Underground hold a reunion and talk about life and love.
Rating: NC/17 for sex and language.
Scenario/Sequel/Series: I think this still qualifies as movieverse, although it takes place more than three years after the movie ends and deals primarily with characters who don't appear in the movie. Safe House takes place all in one weekend, a few weeks after the events described in Adult Education and Continuing Education. Scott and Logan make a brief appearance in this series and they are discussed several times, but the main focus is on other characters. Central to this series are Jean-Paul "Northstar" Beaubier (Alpha Flight team member and Marvel's first openly gay character) and Adam Greenfield, investigative reporter. Jean-Paul and Adam met and fell in love in Foreign Correspondence (well, actually they fell in love and then met). This series also features Heather and Mac Hudson, co-directors of Alpha Flight, as well as a number of other characters introduced in Night and Day and Foreign Correspondence. In addition there are several characters new to this series.
Readers of the Education stories will know where Scott and Logan are headed when they show up in Montreal. Some of the questions raised in those stories are answered here. I intend to write a sequel to Continuing Education that will reveal, among other things, the solution to the dilemma they faced at the end of that series.
Safe House is consistent with events and relationships described in my previous stories:
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
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. Bryn Mawr is an independent women's college and belongs to the women, mutant and otherwise, who have lived and learned there for well over a century. Adam Greenfield and the members of the Mawrter Mutant Underground - along with their spouses, lovers, and children - are the products of my fevered imagination, with the exception of Heather and Mac Hudson and Warren Worthington, who are Marvel canon characters.
A Note on Warren Worthington III, a.k.a. Angel: My Warren is based on Angel of the early X-Men comics, so he is one of the original X-Men and is not blue and has not lost his wings. Warren was not in the movie, so I had him rejoin the X-Men after a long absence from the team, as detailed in Foreign Correspondence. It is also worth noting that in addition to having a longstanding friendship with Scott, the two of them were briefly involved sexually. This is described in Night and Day and is a circumstance unknown to many of the characters in this series.
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 Safe House will be posted after the stories themselves. It contains spoilers so should be read after the series. In addition to literary references, the guide provides supplementary information on a few issues discussed in Safe House.
Acknowledgements: As always, big thanks to SW and LS for research, beta reading, character inspiration and lots of laughs.

From: Agreenfield@herald.com
To: Northstar@alphaflight.gc.ca
Subject: Checking In

Jean-Paul:

Just got your messages - voice and email - and I don't have much time but wanted to respond briefly and set your mind at ease. I'm fine and expect to be home soon. I'll call you as soon as I get back to DC.

I'm writing to you from a public library terminal. I'm in town doing errands for the Sacred Honor. It's the first time that I've gone anywhere alone since I got here. I think it indicates they really trust that I'm one of them now, but it has taken all this time to get to this point. Previously, I always had an escort any time I left the compound and there was no way I could check email or make a private phone call.

So, I got your series of increasingly insistent messages all at once. I'm sorry you were worried. We'll talk more when I return. I expect to be back in DC by Monday at the latest and we're aiming to run the series starting on the following Sunday. I have high hopes for these articles. I've found out a lot that you just can't learn any other way and am going to expose the ugly truth about Sacred Honor and related "patriot" groups. I know the whole idea of undercover reporting is controversial (and makes my lover worry about me) but sometimes you can't find out what's really going on any other way. This group is, understandably, very secretive. The story I'm going to write is one no outsider could get.

It has been hard staying in character - I'm a journalist, not an actor. And even if I were more skilled at acting, I think it would be hard to keep my revulsion hidden when faced with these people and their Weltanschauung. The scary part is that they are so isolated, so steeped in their own sick subculture, that they don't even realize just how far from the norm they are. They hate the government; they're scared of the press because they think our "liberal bias" will stop us from reporting fairly on them, but they really think the man on the street isn't that different from them. A lot of what I want to explore in the series is just how normal they think their hate-filled philosophy is.

Okay, I've got to go now and finish my errands. I left you a brief message on your Alpha Flight voice mail. I hope you get it. I also hope nobody else has access to your voice mailbox. I'll call you at Jeanne-Marie's when I get back. And no, love, you can't come to DC and stay with me. Not until I'm done with this, anyway. I haven't had the privacy to write anything. The series, such as it is, exists only in my head. I'm going to have to get it all down on paper when I get back. You're much too distracting to have around when I'm working on deadline. Take that as a compliment - it's meant as one.

Next Friday's my deadline. Can we get together for the weekend? I don't care where. You can certainly come to my place if you want. I suppose we'd have more privacy than at Jeanne-Marie's. But keep in mind that I got reassigned to DC the week before I left for Idaho and undercover - I haven't even unpacked. And I don't really have much in the way of furniture yet. Still, I do have a bed and I'm not sure we need much else. Anyway, if you have found an apartment, we might be more comfortable in Toronto. Or we could go somewhere else altogether. Just tell me where to meet you and I'll be there. You have no idea how much I miss you.

Adam

From: Northstar@alphaflight.gc.ca
To: Agreenfield@herald.com
Subject: Reply to: Checking In

Oh, Adam. I was so happy and relieved to get your voice mail and email messages. I've been sick with worry, imagining all sorts of horrific scenarios. No one at the Herald seemed to know anything about where or how you are, which just made me more anxious that your cover had been blown. What little we already knew of those maniacs was enough to realize that they are totally ruthless. I think it was completely irresponsible of the Herald to send you on this assignment with no way to ensure your safety and no ongoing lines of communication. It was a huge relief to get your messages but I know I won't relax entirely until you are home and safe. Please, Adam, promise me you won't do anything like this again. I'm sure the articles will be wonderful. Still, no matter what you have found out about this group, it isn't worth the risk.

I'm not at Jeanne-Marie's anymore. Much as I love my sister, things were getting a little uncomfortable with my dear twin, her latest amour, and me - all in a one-bedroom apartment. I've got to find a place of my own soon. I'm wishing I'd never given up the flat I had before I went to Saskatchewan. But the project was going on for so long and dealing with subleasing from a distance - and from a secret location - was getting more and more problematic. If I'd realized how hard finding a suitable place would be when I came back I would have put up with the hassle, though. Toronto always seems to be in somewhat of a rental housing crisis, but things definitely got worse in the time I was away. Add to that the growing number of landlords who won't rent to mutants and I'm in the frustrating position of being without a place to hang my hat.

For now I'm in Montreal and will be here for the next two weeks. Mac wanted someone to do a series of talks and meetings about Alpha Flight at colleges and universities across Canada. Sort of a mixture of recruitment and PR. I volunteered and nobody fought me for it. I think they're all relieved I was willing. I do like doing that kind of thing, enjoy the contact with young people. And, besides, this assignment comes with somewhere to stay everywhere I go, important to a homeless mutant such as I am right now. I'll resume the apartment search when it's done. While I'm here, I'm staying in a house Alpha Flight owns in Cote St. Luc. It's the same place that Laura and I were using as our address when we were in Belarus. The number here is (514) 555-2309. Call me as soon as you can.

I can't come see you in Washington before next weekend? Come on, Adam. How about for one night? You can't write 24 hours a day. And after that teaser message on my voice mail, it would be totally unfair to make me wait. Voice mail sex is a distant cousin to phone sex and what I want is the real thing. I've missed being with you so much, mon ami. I want to hold you, kiss you, touch you, taste you. I want to hear you call my name while you come. I'm getting tired of living on memories (and masturbation). What do you say? One night? S'il te plait? I can land on top of your building - no one will see me. Then you just let me in through the roof door. It was a little easier at your place in Miami, but the roof landing worked that other time I came to Washington.

As to the weekend, why don't you come here? We'll have more privacy than we would at your place and we don't have to unpack anything. We'll have this whole big house to ourselves. The place gets used for a few things but I checked with Mac and he has assured me I'll have the house all to myself for the whole time I'm here. Maybe you could even stay past the weekend? I could show you around Montreal, if you like. It's not New York, but it's got its own charm. This time I can be the local boy and you can be the tourist.

Jean-Paul

From: Agreenfield@herald.com
To: Northstar@alphaflight.gc.ca
Subject: I'm back!

Okay, you've got a message on your voice mail from me and now I'm sending you email, too. You're probably out convincing starry-eyed mutant college students to join Alpha Flight. I'm so excited to be back and to know I'll be talking to you for real soon and even being with you in a few days. A little annoyed, as well (which I'll get to), but mostly just so looking forward to seeing you, Jean-Paul.

No, you can't come here. Not even for one night. You're right - I can't write 24 hours a day. To finish this by Friday, though, I'm going to pretty much do nothing but write, talk to my editor, and sleep in between. Well, maybe a few short phone calls with my lover, assuming he's not too mad that I won't spend the night with him until I'm done with this series. But you know I won't get any work done - or get any sleep - if you're here. I really can't spare the time, not even one night. Will it mollify you a little if I say that I can spend all next week with you? If it's okay with you, I'll fly up there on Friday evening and stay through the whole week and the following weekend. I know you're working but I can occupy myself during the day and we'll have evenings and nights and two whole weekends together. And maybe you'll even let me come along and hear you give your Alpha Flight pitch once. Or twice if you're doing it in English and French - I'd love to hear both. So, let me know if I can stay the week with you. I've got reservations on a flight coming into Dorval Friday night at 7:45 and a return flight a week from Sunday (sorry, my love, but unlike you I need a plane to fly - just one of my many limitations). Tell me if it's okay and I'll confirm the flights and see you in four days.

Moving on to a somewhat touchy topic: Jean-Paul, you made things difficult for me with your calls to the Herald while I was gone. I have a hard assignment here and it doesn't help to come home to a cranky editor. Well, not that Marv is cranky only because of your calls - it is pretty much his nature - but they sure didn't help. I understand and appreciate that you were worried, really I do. But bugging Marv was not a good way to deal with that worry. I need you to agree not to do this again next time. And yes, there will be a next time. I'm glad to talk more about this when we're together and try to figure out ways we can alleviate your worry but I can tell you up front that I'm not agreeing to refuse undercover assignments.

I was very disturbed to get a request from you that I promise not to do this again. It's not just that the answer to your request is "no" - it's that I don't think you should be asking that of me at all. This is my work, Jean-Paul. Often interesting, sometimes boring, occasionally dangerous. Without a doubt requiring too much time away from home and too many nights in one-night cheap hotels. Too much time spent in bars swapping stories with other reporters, too much time spent arguing with cranky editors. But it's what I do; it's what I love doing. It's not going to change.

And, Jean-Paul, I'm having a hard time with you trying to make these kinds of demands on me when I have never done anything like that to you. My work is occasionally dangerous - yours is usually so. Don't you think I worry when you're off on a mission? Don't you think it bothers me that at least half the times we've had sex we've been constrained in what we could do because you've had battle wounds that were still healing? Have you given any thought to what that's been like for me? I don't mean to be harsh with you and I don't want this to become an ongoing source of tension between us. I do hope we can work on this together, but working on it has to come from a place where we respect each other's autonomy and career choices. Can you understand and accept that?

So, anyway, I hope you'll understand what I'm saying here and know how much I want to be with you. And I hope you'll let me know right away if my plan of staying the whole week works for you. I'm so excited at the idea of having all that time alone with you. I don't even mind that we'll be doing it in the home you and Laura shared for your brief marriage :-).

I'll close by telling you what Marv said when I asked him to give me the week off. "Sure, make him happy." And then, after a rather long pause, "And tell him never to call me again." So, I've done the second part. Will you give me a chance to try and do the first?

Adam

From: hhudson@alphaflight.gc.ca
To: mawrtermutants@yahoogroups.com
Subject: Final arrangements

The much-anticipated reunion weekend is at hand. There will be 18 of us altogether: 10 members of the Mawrter Mutant Underground, 5 spouses and significant others, and 3 children. In addition, one of our Alpha Flight operatives (Jean-Paul Beaubier, whom some of you know) is staying in the house where we're getting together. He's doing some work for Alpha Flight in Montreal and has been using the house in Cote St. Luc. But there's plenty of room for all of us and Mac is in Montreal right now and told me he'd make sure that Jean-Paul realizes we're all descending on him for the weekend.

Most are coming in Friday night, with a few on Saturday morning. If you need transportation from the airport, please send me your flight numbers and times (and which airport you're arriving at) by Wednesday at the latest. I've sent directions to those of you who said you'd be driving. If you get lost or have any difficulties, call the Cote St. Luc house at (514) 555-2309. You can also leave that number with anyone who might need to contact you over the weekend.

I can't believe we're actually doing this, after all the months of discussion, planning, plotting and arguing. I'm looking forward excitedly to seeing you all. It's going to be a great weekend.

Anassa kata!

Heather

Jean-Paul Beaubier looked up at the monitor, cursing under his breath when he saw that Adam's flight was delayed an hour. Kicking himself for not calling before he left for the airport, he headed for a nearby bar, figuring he would kill a little time with a beer and le Canadien. Northstar didn't notice the curly-haired child in denim overalls running his way until she was almost upon him. "Jean-Paul!" she squealed, grabbing him round the legs in a big hug.

"April!" he exclaimed in surprise, picking her up and laughing. "What are you doing here?"

She didn't answer, just kissed him and put her arms around his neck. "Fly me up there!" she said, emphatically, pointing at the ceiling. "Look, it's so high."

"Pas ici, ma petite," he replied, eyes on April's parents approaching, running after their daughter. "Wendy, Arthur, what a lovely surprise running into you here!"

"She's so fast! Thank God she's with you - one minute she was there and the next gone. April! You can't run off like that without telling us." Wendy tried to sound stern but her voice was a mixture of relief and leftover fear. April, content in Jean-Paul's arms, seemed oblivious. Wendy shrugged. "Okay, I give up. She just doesn't get it. Arthur, we've got to watch her more closely. She's not used to being anywhere where she doesn't know everyone. She doesn't understand the dangers." Then, turning back to Northstar, "So good to see you, Jean-Paul." Wendy kissed him.

Arthur greeted him as well and asked, "Are you here to pick us up? We told Heather we'd manage by taxi."

Jean-Paul looked confused. "No, I'm here to pick up Adam, but his flight's delayed. I was about to while away the time with hockey and beer," he added, arms still around April, gesturing towards the bar with his head. "But I'd much rather hang out with you. Can you wait around a bit? I can drop you somewhere after Adam's flight comes in. What are you doing in Montreal?"

Arthur and Wendy exchanged glances. "We're here for the Mawrter Mutant Underground reunion," Wendy said, slowly. Jean-Paul looked at her expectantly, no light of recognition in his eyes. "A bunch of the old college crowd are getting together for a reunion weekend," she added. "Heather and Mac are hosting. Arthur and I are staying the whole week, so we can get a taste of city life for a change."

"Oh, Prince Albert doesn't count?" Jean-Paul asked, laughing. "Great that you're here. I'm in Montreal for another 10 days or so. Maybe we can get together later in the week? Adam's staying through next weekend with me, as well. We haven't seen each other for some time - he has been on an undercover assignment and mostly incommunicado, so we're looking forward to some time alone together this weekend. And you'll be busy with your reunion. It sounds like fun. Funny Mac didn't mention it - I saw him the other day, too."

April tugged on Jean-Paul's left ear to get his attention. She pointed at the ceiling again. "Come on," she said insistently. "I want to go up." He shook his head. "En haut?" she added, hopefully.

Jean-Paul laughed. "Tres bien, April. But I still can't fly here."

"Why? Look, Jean-Paul!" She pointed to a stray helium balloon, bright against the airport ceiling.

"People wouldn't like it," Arthur interjected. "It's different here, not like at home."

"They'd be scared," Wendy added.

April looked at Jean-Paul, who nodded in agreement. Her expression took on the full measure of disdain available only to a three-year-old confronted with irrational adult behavior. "Flying isn't scary," she said, in the tone of someone pointing out the obvious to those too feeble-minded to see it for themselves.

"Vraiment, April. We know that, but not everybody does. And we're bound by their fears, ma petite. Sometimes, the thing we fear the most is fear." April looked confused. "I'll take you flying while you're in Montreal, I promise. We'll find somewhere private. D'accord?"

She smiled and hugged him. "D'accord!"

Jean-Paul turned back to Arthur and Wendy. "Anyway, later in the week maybe we could all get together, after your reunion is over and Adam and I have had some time to catch up. I'm sure he'd love to see all of you again. I'm working most days but maybe we could have dinner one evening? And if you and Arthur want to go out by yourselves, Adam and I would be happy to baby sit. Well, I suppose I shouldn't speak for him, but I'm quite sure he'll agree. Whatever you do, let's make sure we get some time together. I want to hear how everything's going back in Saskatchewan. And keep my promise to April, of course. It's so great seeing you!"

Arthur and Wendy looked at each other again. "Umm, Jean-Paul," Arthur said. "I think we're going to see a lot of each other this week." Jean-Paul looked at him blankly. "Heather and Mac are hosting the reunion. In Cote St. Luc."

"Ah, then it will be easy to get together. I'm staying in Cote St. Luc, too," Jean-Paul said, happily. And then, after a pause, "No. Don't tell me. This reunion is in Alpha Flight's house in Cote St. Luc?" Arthur and Wendy nodded. "Tabernac!" he cursed, then apologized immediately.

"Don't be sorry," Arthur said. "We're not taking it personally. It's the only appropriate response. That house just went from private love nest to women's dorm in one fell swoop."

Jean-Paul knelt on the floor in front of Adam, who was seated on the bed. He was sucking Adam's cock while stroking his lover's thighs. Adam was breathing hard, pushing up off the bed into Jean-Paul's mouth. His hands moved like he couldn't keep them still, roaming from his lover's shoulders to his thick, black hair to his face. Jean-Paul could feel that Adam was close to orgasm. He could hear it, too, in the moans that were now emerging from him, loud and almost like a chant. Moving up and down while he sucked him, Jean-Paul finally took Adam's cock all the way in, squeezing with the muscles in his throat to send him over the edge.

Adam grabbed onto Northstar's ears almost convulsively as he came, his incoherent moans dissolving into a loud, clear cry of his lover's name. Loud enough that Jean-Paul had no trouble hearing his name with Adam's hands covering his ears. Loud enough that he wondered who else in the large, crowded house could hear their lovemaking. He got up off the floor scowling at that thought as he lay down next to his lover.

Adam was lying back on the bed, smiling. After a minute, he reached for his glasses and put them on. The smile disappeared when, seeing clearly now, he noticed Jean-Paul's expression. "What's wrong?" he asked, propping himself up on one elbow, looking down at his lover's angry face.

"I'm just so pissed off at Mac. I can't believe they trust that man with an important department and a multimillion dollar budget," Northstar replied, voice full of ire. "He can't remember a date that was circled in his calendar in bright red ink and that - according to Heather - he'd been reminded of repeatedly." He scowled at Adam, saying, "I was sure it was next month" in his best imitation of Mac Hudson's apologetic tone. Then, back in his own voice, "Quel imbecile!"

Adam laughed. "Oh, don't let it get to you, love. He made a mistake. It happens. We still have all this time to be together."

"Yeah, with half of Bryn Mawr's alumnae out there listening to us."

Adam laughed again. "I really think they have better things to do than eavesdrop on you and me having sex. Don't worry about it. They're busy with their reunion." He leaned down and kissed Jean-Paul deeply. "We can be busy with ours." He got on top of Jean-Paul, moving against him while he reached to pull on his hardening cock. Jean-Paul turned his head to the side and Adam licked him on the ear, rubbing his cock with one hand, the other arm around and under his head. He whispered in Jean-Paul's ear, "You make me feel so good. God, I love how you suck me, Jean-Paul. It's so hot when you take me all the way in. I love to fill you up with my cum. I want to make you feel that good, as good as you do me. I'll do whatever you want." He turned Jean-Paul's face back towards him and pushed his tongue deep in his lover's mouth. They kissed a long time. Adam pulled away, asking, "What do you want to do?"

Jean-Paul's expression had changed from a few minutes ago, the somewhat glazed look in his eyes indicating that Adam had succeeded in distracting him from his annoyance with his boss. "I want to be inside you, Adam," he said, rolling him off of him. "Turn on your side." Adam turned towards the wall and Jean-Paul leaned up against his back, kissing him on the back of the neck. "Oh, how I want to fuck you, mon coeur," he whispered, reaching behind him for the lube, then starting to prepare himself and Adam.

"There are more condoms in the nightstand drawer," Adam said, pushing back to receive Jean-Paul's fingers in his ass.

"Not this time, mon amour. S'il te plait? I want to feel you, nothing between us, hein?"

Adam shook his head. "It's too risky."

"It's not. We're both safe. You know we are. I haven't done anything with anyone else, not since we started. You know that, don't you? Don't you trust me? Don't you believe me? I believe you." He spread Adam's cheeks while he whispered to him, positioned his dick right at the opening but didn't push inside yet.

"Of course I believe you, but just the same..." Adam's voice trailed off as if he'd lost his train of thought.

"I want to be inside you, really inside you," Jean-Paul whispered, pushing the head of his cock a little bit into Adam, who was no longer arguing. "I want to fill you up with my cum," he added, echoing Adam's words from before.

With a moan Adam pushed back, driving Jean-Paul into him up to the hilt. Adam put his hands up against the wall to brace himself and they moved together in long slow motions. Jean-Paul had one hand on Adam's hip and the other round his chest, wrapping his legs around Adam's as he fucked him harder. "Ah, oui, c'est bon," he said. "Si bon."

Jean-Paul kept up a steady rhythm and Adam matched it. They rocked back and forth, Jean-Paul thrusting in deeply again and again, whispering to Adam about how good it felt, how much he'd missed him. Then he stopped talking and just fucked him hard and fast. He was pushing so hard that Adam had both his hands and knees against the wall to keep from getting pushed into it.

Jean-Paul yelled Adam's name as he came, having momentarily forgotten his concerns about being overheard. But once he'd pulled out, he spoke softly in Adam's ear again. "Si bon comme ca," he said. "Merci, mon amour. Thank you for letting me do that. Thank you for trusting me."

Adam turned to face him. "I wish you wouldn't turn it into a question of trust," he said. "That's not what this is really about, is it?"

"Well, trust is required, n'est-ce pas? Isn't that essential for Negotiated Safety?"

"I'm pretty sure the negotiation part isn't supposed to happen during sex, Jean-Paul." Adam was sounding a little bit petulant. "If you wanted to try for Negotiated Safety we should have been talking about this over dinner or something and agreeing on rules."

"You're right, Adam. I'm sorry. It wasn't the way to start. But we can work out the rules now, can't we? I want you to feel safe."

"I don't know how safe either of us should feel going down that route. It's no wonder to me most guys I know call it 'Negotiated Danger'. This is risky business."

"It's not, mon ami, really." Jean-Paul spoke soothingly, patiently, looking at Adam with love in his eyes. "We're both tested. We're both safe. So, we work out rules. If either of us does anything risky outside the relationship he says right away, right?"

"Right. And no recriminations. We have to both feel we can say or it won't work. Can you handle that? If I tell you I let some other man fuck me bareback you'll just accept that and we go back to latex?"

"I'll accept it. I'll try to keep you happy enough that you won't want to, though. Oh, and if that happens, I do want to meet him. Considering the fact that it took over a year to get you to let me do it I'd love to know what his secret is." Adam laughed. "And you'll do the same for me? Just let me tell you and that's it?" Adam nodded. "It won't happen, you know. I don't want anyone but you." He kissed him again.

"Don't talk like that, Jean-Paul," Adam said, pulling back. "It'll just make it harder to tell me if you do end up doing anything risky. We need to be smart about this if we're going to be safe. It's not smart to talk like it couldn't happen."

"Maybe I'm not as smart as you, then, but what I'm telling you is the truth." Jean-Paul put his arms around Adam again. "It's just how I am - how I'm wired or something. When I'm in love I don't want anyone else. You've been away from me for two months, Adam, and I haven't even been tempted. I wanted to have sex so much, but with you. Just you."

Adam kissed him. "I missed you, too, love," he sighed. "And I wasn't tempted either." Then, after a pause, "Of course the fact that I was spending all my time with homicidal maniacs might have something to do with that. I find fearing for my life a bit of a turn off." Jean-Paul laughed at that. After a minute Adam asked, "So, do you think you're naturally monogamous?"

"Oui. I've always been like that. I don't talk about it much. Don't tell anyone - I might have to surrender my Guy Card or something." Adam chuckled. "It's just how it is for me. Un seul homme. And you're it, Adam."

Adam sighed. "You have no idea what it does to me to hear you say that." He kissed Jean-Paul again. "But I still think you shouldn't. Say it, that is. You talk like that and you're setting things up to make it harder to tell me if you do it with somebody else. It could happen, love. It can happen to anybody. That's what Negotiated Safety is about - recognizing the risks and coming up with a plan to mitigate them."

"And that's fine. I'll plan with you, mon coeur. But don't tell me not to say how I feel," Jean-Paul added, whispering again in Adam's ear. "I'm telling you the truth. I'll always tell you the truth. Negotiated or not, you're safe with me."

Half of the reuniting Mawrter Mutants had arrived already. The big living room in the Cote St. Luc house was shaping up as the gathering place. A table at one end of the room held platters of sandwiches and fruit and a pot of coffee, thoughtfully provided by Heather Hudson, who couldn't bear airline food and suspected some of her Mawrter sisters might feel the same. Next to it was a wet bar, with wine, beer, juice and soda in the fridge and glasses and a bucket of ice on the counter. Emily, a music major turned investment banker, had expressed delight upon seeing the piano. Interest rate futures momentarily forgotten, she had been entertaining the assembled Underground members by playing some of their old college favorites, encouraging them all to sing along. "Each in your own key, as always," she added with a chuckle.

The singing done, conversation turned general. The Bryn Mawr alumnae were talking a blue streak, happily catching up on events in each other's lives, exclaiming about the size of each other's children and mortgages, recounting long ago schemes and planning new ones. They all seemed to be speaking at once yet they all seemed to hear everything said, although superhuman hearing was only Emily's mutant gift (one that had served her equally well in the concert hall and on the trading floor).

"Hey, I heard that!" Heather called out to a group of women across the room. Mac, sitting next to her, perked up, wondering what she had heard. "I did not have the record for most lovers in freshman year," she said with a broad smile. "Not that I didn't make a valiant attempt," she added, "but it was a hopeless cause with Wendy and Emily both in the running."

Arthur looked at Wendy, April asleep on her lap, seemingly unconcerned. "Not to mention Diana," Wendy said with a smile. "She was certainly going for the record for a while there. Then everything changed in her senior year when a certain winged mutant came into her life." Warren developed a sudden interest in the living room ceiling. Wendy looked at her watch. "Hmmm, Diana and Susan should have been here by now."

"Well, maybe they hit traffic. Or maybe there was a mistake in the driving directions Mac provided," Heather added, patting her husband's leg. "You've been making such absent-minded mistakes lately, darling," she added, with a slight edge to her voice.

"Go easy on him," Wendy said to Heather, her voice teasing. " 'But men are men, the best sometimes forget.' I'm sure Mac's got a lot on his mind."

Heather patted Mac's leg again. "At least you have Wendy to defend you, darling. Of course, you can draw what conclusions you like from the fact that she's quoting the villain of the piece to do so." Mac suddenly remembered an important phone call he had to make and excused himself, going off to the adjoining study.

"More likely Diana got held up at work," Caroline said, after he left. "She said she was planning on seeing patients this afternoon and she didn't know exactly when she'd be done."

"I can't get over Diana going to med school," Warren interjected. "I never would have guessed it. She was an English major when I knew her."

"I think she's changed in a lot of ways since you knew her." Wendy sounded amused. "Anyway, I'm thrilled she's not only a doctor but a family practitioner. I'm going to talk up the outpost for the whole weekend. We desperately need a doctor there. We don't use the doctors in Prince Albert because we don't want anyone knowing we have a whole community full of mutants there. Still, it's getting so hard to manage when our family doctors are thousands of miles away and in a different country."

"Hank and Jean?" Heather asked. Wendy nodded. "Well, how does that work? What if there's an emergency?"

"In a real emergency we'd just go to the nearest hospital and deal with the consequences later," Arthur answered. "Luckily we haven't had one, though. As it stands now, Jean or Hank flies up every month or two, does exams, vaccinates the kids and so on. And we call them with medical questions in between. Wendy and I have first aid training and can take vital signs. Jean and Hank use that information and do a sort of exam via video-cam. That's what we've done so far when someone has been sick, but it's nowhere near as good as having a doctor on the spot."

"So what if you need medicine? Can they phone in a prescription from the States?" This time it was Emily asking.

"I don't know if they could, but they haven't tried that," Wendy replied. "Too conspicuous. When we've needed medicine, Jean-Paul has helped us out. With flight and super speed he can pick the drugs up from Westchester and bring them to us in Saskatchewan all in a matter of minutes. And then we get to visit with him for a little while."

"Where is the famous M. Beaubier?" Caroline interjected, sitting in the rocking chair, tiny baby at her breast. "I've heard so much about him and Heather's note said he'd be here this weekend."

Wendy and Arthur exchanged glances. "I'm sure you'll meet him later," Wendy said. "As well as his lover, Adam, who's visiting for the week from Washington."

"Adam's here?" Warren asked. "I haven't seen him since last year at the outpost."

"That was such a great week," Laura added. "There's nothing like down time after a dangerous mission. It's relaxing like nothing else, you know? And after eight of us had all crowded in on poor Adam in his hotel room in Vilnius, I'm sure he enjoyed all the wide, open spaces in rural Saskatchewan." This statement brought queries from those who hadn't heard the whole story of the Belarus mission, so Laura and Warren recapped for them.

"I'm counting on both of you," Wendy said to them when they were done. "And Jean-Paul and Adam and Heather and Mac - everyone with firsthand knowledge of the Saskatchewan outpost. We need to talk nonstop about what a wonderful community it is all weekend and maybe we can persuade Diana and Susan to come live there. I'm having a hard time recruiting people, particularly pregnant women or families with small children, without onsite medical care."

"I'll do my part," Laura answered, sitting cross-legged on the floor. "It is a wonderful place you've got there. A little remote, but so beautiful. And such a warm and welcoming community. A great place to raise children - so safe, everyone knows everybody else."

"That's the spirit," Arthur said with a smile. "We'll have a community doctor in no time if you keep this up."

Laura laughed softly. "I meant it - I'm not just spewing propaganda. I'm really looking forward to meeting Diana, by the way. I was a freshman the year after she graduated so our paths never crossed. Although she was kind of legendary," she added, smiling at Warren on the couch nearby, who had finished surveying the ceiling and begun on the floor. "And between the stories I've heard and being on the Mawrtermutants list with her, I do feel like I know Diana. It will be interesting to see if my impressions of her withstand meeting in person."

The group chatted some more, the Mawrters themselves seemingly having much more to say than the few spouses and other hangers on. Eventually Mac emerged from the study, just as the doorbell rang. "I'll get it," he said, and went off to the front door.

Two women were there, suitcases in hand. "Hi, I'm Mac Hudson, Heather's husband," he greeted them. "You must be Diana and Susan. Come on in." He took their suitcases and put them aside, ushering the women into the house and relieving them of their coats. "Why don't you just come say a brief 'hello' and then I'll show you to your room." They followed him into the living room.

Without their outer clothing it was clear that the taller of the two women was about six months pregnant, her round belly protruding beyond firm breasts, nipples still erect from the cold. She hung back a bit behind her lover, so that it was Diana who entered the room first, greeted by squeals of joy from her old college friends, several of whom jumped up to hug her. She greeted everyone with a big smile, waving to Warren on the couch and to Wendy, who had stayed seated with a sleeping April on her lap. "This is Susan," she said happily, taking her lover's hand. Diana began to name the people in the room, saying "Laura, right?" when she got to the petite curly-haired woman on the floor.

"Oh my God, you're pregnant!" Caroline exclaimed. "You two are having a baby?"

"That's the idea," Susan said with a laugh. "Didn't you tell your friends we're going to be parents?" she asked Diana.

"I announced it on the list as soon as we got a positive pregnancy test and I've been obsessing about it ever since. And explaining all about how dykes have babies for the benefit of those benighted souls who'd never heard of lesbian parenting. It's not my fault Caroline here took a six-month break from the list and didn't bother to check the archives for major news that happened while she was gone."

"Well, I'm happy to congratulate you in person," said Wendy. "I'm sure we all are. Susan, you look wonderful. I was a mess for my whole pregnancy - stringy hair, bad skin. But some women really do have that pregnancy glow you hear about and you're obviously one of them."

Heather asked Susan and Diana if they'd like to sit down and have something to eat or drink. Diana turned to her lover, who said, "Why don't we get settled first?" Mac stood up, reiterating his offer to show them to their room.

Mac went and got their suitcases and Susan and Diana followed him up the stairs. He walked into their room and put the bags down on the floor, asking about the drive from Toronto. Loud moaning was heard, seeming to be coming from the room across the hall. "Well, sounds like someone's having fun," Diana said brightly. Mac turned bright red and quickly excused himself, leaving Diana and Susan alone to unpack.

As soon as he was gone, they looked at each other and laughed. "I think I scared him off," Diana said. "I guess I was supposed to pretend I didn't hear that."

"A little hard to ignore," her lover replied, as the sounds of lovemaking across the hall got louder. She sat down on the bed.

Diana sat down next to her and kissed her, stroking Susan's right breast through her shirt. "Maybe we should be doing some of that, too," she added. "Wendy's right. You are so beautiful pregnant," she whispered in her lover's ear. "And so sexy," she added, reaching under Susan's shirt now.

"Later," Susan replied, taking Diana's hand away from her breast. "Let's go talk to your friends, first. I don't want them thinking you have some trashy lover, who can't wait even long enough to learn everybody's names before she jumps into bed with you."

"Just a quickie, then? More later?" Diana reached to undo Susan's jeans, rubbing her firm round belly sensuously, then sliding her fingers down lower. "They'll never know the difference. They'll think we're unpacking. Just let me make you come once," she added, slipping her fingers in between Susan's lips, pushing two fingers into her wet cunt while her thumb stroked all around her lover's clitoris. Diana kissed Susan again, tongues stroking each other. "It's good for you," she told her lover. "Orgasm tones the uterus, you know."

"Well, if it's doctor's orders..." Susan lay flat on her back, moving her hips up to meet Diana's hand as Diana continued to fuck her with her fingers. Three fingers inside Susan now, Diana was using the heel of her hand on her lover's clit as she moved in and out of her.

"You're so wet; you're so hot," Diana said, smiling down at Susan. Leaning over Susan, one leg over her lover's two, Diana kept up the motion on and in Susan, unbuttoning her shirt with the other hand and then reaching into her bra to pinch one nipple and then the other. Then she pulled the bra straps down and started kissing all around the nearer breast, settling on licking the areola and then sucking hard on Susan's nipple. Meanwhile Susan's hands were on Diana's breasts, cupping them, stroking the nipples with her thumbs as she moved up and down faster now, matching her rhythm to her lover's, cunt clenching round Diana's fingers, clit hard against her lover's hand.

Susan came long and hard, ripples of contractions squeezing Diana's fingers, moving from fingertips on down, again and again. Her eyes closed during orgasm, Susan opened them after to see her lover looking down at her, smiling. Diana pulled out of Susan and stuck her index finger in her own mouth. "Mmm, you taste so good," she said, pulling her hand away from her face and then slipping all three slippery wet fingers into her lover's open mouth. "See?" she added, as Susan sucked eagerly on them. "Definitely more later," she added, taking her fingers out of Susan's mouth and kissing her, tongue sliding all around, catching a little more of the taste. The two women got up, adjusted their clothing, combed their mussed hair and went back downstairs to join the party.

Susan and Diana waited a moment at the entrance to the living room before rejoining the group. A lively discussion was in progress over just where on Bryn Mawr College's lovely Pennsylvania campus was the most interesting place to have sex. Diana looked at Susan with raised eyebrows, her expression asking if her lover was really worried about appearing trashy in this company. Susan turned away from Diana's gaze in order to avoid laughing and entered the room, followed by her lover. Diana walked over and sat down on the floor next to Laura and Warren. Susan began to follow her, but Arthur called for her to join him and Wendy at the other side of the room. A quick glance revealed Diana in conversation with Laura already, so she took Arthur up on his offer and sat down next to him on the overstuffed sofa.

"A little overwhelming?" he asked softly, an amused smile on his face.

"Are they always like this?" Susan whispered back, trying desperately to keep up with the discussion, which was rapidly turning into a debate of sorts. Arthur replied that he had never been with so many of the Mawrter Mutant Underground at once but that even in smaller groups he had noticed that they did seem to like to argue.

Three strongly held positions had emerged, each with its own champion. Wendy was singing the praises of the clock tower at Taylor Hall while Emily insisted there was no place like the fountain in the Cloisters of Thomas Great Hall, with its long tradition of skinny-dipping and related activities. Meanwhile Caroline was holding forth on the erotic charms of the stage at Goodhart auditorium. Each of the three women was passionately defending her selected venue, casting about for supporters. Laura, sitting on the floor with Diana, looked up with a slightly puzzled expression when Emily said that surely Warren would agree with her choice.

"Wet feathers and sex? I don't think so," Wendy exclaimed disdainfully, before Warren even had a chance to answer Emily's plea for support. He opened his mouth as if to respond to Wendy's comment, then thought better of it.

"Oh, what would you know?" Caroline asked. Now it was Wendy's turn to begin to answer and then, seeing her husband's expression, change her mind. "Anyway," Caroline continued, "the clock tower is totally unsuitable for sex, unless it's a quickie. Pretty unnerving to be in the middle of anything on the hour there.

"So anything under an hour is a quickie in your book?" Wendy asked, the topic of wet feathers and sex momentarily having been relegated to the back burner. "That's definitely my position," Diana jumped into the conversation. "But I thought it's different for you straight girls."

Heather snorted. "Oh, stop acting like you know nothing about heterosexuality, Diana. Who do you think you're fooling? We remember your pre-lesbian days, you know." And, turning to Susan, she added, "It was a huge surprise to all of us when Diana came out. I never would have imagined in college that she'd end up with a woman.

"Hey, I would never have imagined you'd end up with a man!" Diana answered, causing Mac to sit up and take notice. "I remember the first time you brought a guy back to the dorm. We were all totally dumbfounded."

"You wouldn't believe me!" Emily shouted with an indignation that seemed to only have gotten stronger in the past 10 years. "I told you all she had a man in her room and everyone kept telling me I'd either had a particularly vivid dream or couldn't tell the difference between a man and a really butch woman."

There was laughter of recognition from the Mawrters who had been on the scene. Susan looked like she was starting to enjoy herself. "So, what happened? How did you find out there was a man in her room?" she asked.

"Well, it was like this." Emily was warming up to the story now. "There were a bunch of us sitting in the common room, arguing about something or other." Arthur flashed an I-told-you-so smile at Susan. The assorted conversations stopped and everyone listened to Emily continue. "I had told them all earlier that Heather was upstairs with a man, but like I said they just totally discounted what I had to say. So, everybody's talking at once, like always, and then suddenly there's this pause in the conversation. And by one of those cosmic coincidences that sometimes happens, right in the middle of dead silence we heard this loud, clear cry."

She paused in her story and from one of the rooms above a loud male voice was heard, calling "Oh, Adam!" Emily smiled and paused, amid scattered laughter. "Yes, thank you," she said, addressing the ceiling. "Just like that. Only it was a woman's voice - our own Heather here - and it was 'Steve', I think. Some unmistakably male name, anyway. So I was vindicated."

"Oh, yeah? What about Stevie Smith?" Heather countered, deftly steering the discussion away from her sexual orientation and into androgynous names and English poetry. The Mawrters dived into the new topics gamely. "What did I tell you?" Arthur whispered to Susan. "They'll argue about anything. It's their favorite sport." She smiled at him. "Have you met any of this crowd before?"

"Just Heather," Susan replied. "She came to our apartment a couple of months ago with one of the Alpha Flight operatives. He was badly injured - a gunshot wound. I was shocked that she didn't just take him to the nearest emergency room and even more surprised when Diana agreed to treat him right there. I don't know what the deal was but she needed someone to treat him off the record, not report the wound. Diana objected a bit, said she didn't have the facilities to treat him properly and that her professional ethics required reporting. But Heather persuaded her to do it. It really surprised me. I was sure she'd turn her down." She paused and thought for a minute. "I don't know. There's something about this college crowd. It's not just friendship; it's something bigger. I'm sure she'd never have done that for anyone else."

"Well, I think college friendships often do tend to get really close," Wendy answered her. "Something about the age and being away from home for the first time and all living together. But there was a little more to it for us. For so many of us it was the first time we were meeting other mutants. We were going from feeling totally isolated to being among this close-knit community of like-minded, and like-DNAed, souls. It tended to foster a kind of 'us against the world' attitude." Wendy cocked her head to one side. "It was both good and bad, I think. Warm, secure, loving - but it closed others out, too." She patted her husband's thigh. "We could always count on each other to know when we were 'not waving but drowning' - took care of each other through all kinds of emergencies. It doesn't surprise me that Diana would do something like that for Heather and not others. Maybe, though, such focus on each other made us too insensitive to those outside our own group. I noticed it then and I can see it now. I give all the spouses who came along a lot of credit. I think as a group we can be a bit intimidating in our insularity."

"Oh I don't mind it most of the time," Arthur replied, "but it did take some getting used to. It is fun, though, to get a glimpse of what Wendy was like before I knew her. I always find out something from her college friends that she somehow neglected to mention before," he added, flashing his wife the same speculating look he'd given her when Warren's name came up during Wendy's clock tower defense. "Maybe you'll find the same about Diana."

"Oh, I hope so," Susan said with a nervous smile. "Something to take away from the experience. I am feeling a bit of an outsider," she added.

"Well, feel free to come hang out with me any time this weekend," Arthur replied. "We can be outsiders together."

Susan smiled and thanked him. After a minute she said, "But it's different for me, eh? You're a mutant, right?" He nodded. "I'm not. I don't know if anyone mentioned that to you. I was a little hesitant to come to this," she added, somewhat sheepishly. "I'm not usually so aware of the difference between us. No, that's not it - I'm aware but it just doesn't seem that significant most of the time. I mean there's lots about Diana and me that isn't the same. We're good at different things, we have some shared and some different interests, we come from very different backgrounds. The mutant thing usually just feels like one of many things that make Diana who she is. Her gift is really useful in her work and I'm glad of it for her, but I don't think of her as being a different species than I am. But when we're with mutants - well, I guess I realize our relationship is a sort of mixed marriage, if you will."

"I guess so," Arthur replied. "Well, Wendy and I have a mixed marriage, too. I'm a man and she's a woman." Susan laughed at that.

"It's not a difference in species, between mutants and non-mutants, you know," Wendy added.

"Oh, I know. We chose a mutant sperm donor," Susan said, patting her round belly, "and here I am. So, our baby-to-be is living proof that it's not a species difference, just sub-species. But still, there's that whole 'homo superior' thing. Hard not to feel inferior being just homo sapiens."

I hate that nomenclature," Wendy said vehemently. "I understand the motivation behind it. I mean so many of us were convinced - at a time in our lives when it's so important to fit in - that we were freakish misfits. So, you try to come up with a term that instills pride instead of shame. I get that, but it's really unwise to do it at the expense of the rest of the human race. We don't have to tell ourselves we're 'superior' to know we're okay."

"I totally agree," Emily added from across the room, abandoning the argument she'd been engaged in with Heather. "That whole idea has done more damage than good."

"What idea's that?" Diana looked up.

"Calling mutants 'homo superior' ", Wendy replied. "We've been discussing mixed marriages."

"Of various kinds," Susan added, with a smile at Arthur. "I was saying I'm not usually so aware of the differences between you and me, but being in a gathering where I'm just about the only homo sapiens kind of underlines it."

Mac spoke up. "There's Heather and me. I've been working with mutants for so long people often assume I'm one myself, but I'm not."

"There's Adam, too," Heather added.

"That Adam?" Susan asked, pointing at the ceiling.

Heather laughed and nodded. "You'll meet him tomorrow, I'm sure. He and Jean-Paul are a mutant/non-mutant couple, too."

Mac brought the conversation back to the question of what to call the mutant subspecies. "I understand the objections to the 'homo superior' label but I have to say I think it has helped engender pride in so many mutants, really helped them to see the difference as a gift and not some sort of birth defect."

"And motivated The Brotherhood to make war on 'inferior' humans," Wendy countered. "And contributed to the anti-mutant hostility in the general public, too. I am proud of who I am - and have pretty mixed feelings about living in hiding, even though I think what we're doing is the practical thing. But I want a society where mutants and non-mutants live together. I've always wanted that, but it's become so much more urgent to me since we've had April," she added, stroking her sleeping daughter's hair. "Part of it is just wanting a better world to leave to your children, I think, but I've really become more and more aware that we have no idea which of our children will be mutants and which won't."

"Oh, surely April will be a mutant," Caroline answered, with a glance at her own baby. "Both of her parents are."

"Neither of my parents are mutants," Warren answered, "And look at me. I think most of us - maybe all of us - were raised by parents who were normal humans. I sure hope that mutants who have non-mutant children can deal with intergenerational difference better than my parents did." Sitting forward, extending his wings a bit, he went on. "You know, I think it was a little different for me than most of you because these didn't just suddenly sprout at some point in adolescence. I couldn't fly until I was sixteen, but I had wings at birth. Tiny ones, but not small enough to ignore. So, my parents always knew there was 'something wrong' with me. No, don't tell me not to say it. That's what I heard for my whole childhood. That's what I was raised with. Later on, it was just my 'condition'. God, I hated that word! When I first heard mutants called 'homo superior' it was like a huge gift to me, like a new way of looking at what I am." Wendy started to say something, but he held up his hand and continued. "I take your point, Wendy. I'm not saying that Heather and Mac and Susan and Adam are in any way inferior to the rest of us. And I admire what you guys are doing in Saskatchewan. I loved being there with you and not just because it's where I met Laura," he added, placing a hand on her shoulder. "But I'd been told I was inferior, in so many ways, spoken and un-, since the day I was born. I needed a new phrase for mutants, a positive one; it was an antidote to the anti-mutant bigotry all around me. Don't tell me mutant kids today don't need that, Wendy. Look around you. If anything, the hostility has gotten worse."

Arthur came to Wendy's defense. "I don't think you really doubt that Wendy understands that, Warren. It's not exactly like we've been immune to anti-mutant prejudice. We did barely escape our home in Vermont with our lives, you know." He spoke softly, but earnestly. "We just don't think the answer is to create more divisiveness. Take the Sudak kids, for example." Turning to the others, he added, "They're a family of Belarussians living at our outpost. Warren and Laura were on the mission that rescued them last year - their parents were killed in the mutant cleansing there." He paused while that sank in, then turned back to Warren. "Natasha and Seryozha have come into their powers already. Ilya and Tanya haven't. It looks like they aren't going to - Hank says neither one of them is a mutant. You think it would be good for them to be told that their siblings are 'homo superior' and they're just ordinary humans? You think that would be conducive to developing their own potential? I don't. What's more, I don't think it would even be conducive to developing Seryozha's and Tasha's potential; it's just one part of who they are. I understand you needed an antidote and the conceit of mutants as homo superior helped you, Warren, even as it caused other problems. We're trying to raise kids who aren't in need of that kind of antidote. I don't want my little girl thinking there's a superior/inferior divide in the human race, whatever she grows into. She'll learn to use her gifts - mutant or otherwise - much better without that baggage." Warren didn't answer. The silence lengthened as no one else responded, either. For once, the assembled members of the Mawrter Mutant Underground had nothing to say.

I reached for Jean-Paul, not quite awake yet. Woke up fully when I realized I was alone in bed. My first thought was that I had overslept and that he was already downstairs, having breakfast and getting to know the other temporary inhabitants. I put on my glasses and looked at the bedside clock, surprised to see that it was only a little after 3:00. The light I had thought was the sun leaking in through the blinds was really the desk lamp. Jean-Paul was sitting at the desk, going through papers in a blue file folder.

Jean-Paul and I have been together for well over a year now, but catching sight of him still takes my breath away. Sometimes I think that superhuman beauty must be one of his mutant powers, too. I just sat there watching him for a while, feeling happy and loving and loved. Then shivering in spite of the warm blankets as, unbidden, thoughts of losing him came into my brain. When we were first together, I was just overwhelmed by the idea of being in love with a mutant superhero. He seemed invincible to me and I worried that he'd stop wasting his time with an ordinary human and leave me for someone more like him. But now, having weathered so many of his dangerous missions, having seen him injured, being intimately acquainted with his battle scars - I'm terrifyingly aware of Jean-Paul's mortality. I find myself lying awake at night sometimes wondering what I'd do if "home they brought my warrior dead." What would I have left of him, besides memories? What would I have to live for? Well, I suppose I'd still have my work to keep me busy.

Trying to focus my mind on less morbid thoughts, I got out of bed and walked over to the desk. He seemed not to notice, absorbed in what he was doing. Standing behind him, I leaned down, put my arms around his neck and kissed his cheek. He turned his head to kiss me back. "What are you working on?" I asked him.

"Just going over some of this stuff about Alpha Flight's history. I'm supposed to know all of this in case I get asked any questions at these talks."

"How is that going?" I straightened up and began rubbing his shoulders. "You haven't said anything about it."

"Too distracted with other topics and activities, I suppose." He sighed, happily. I love to hear that, can't get enough of the sounds he makes. "That feels good, Adam. Oh, the talks themselves are okay. I've got a bunch of stories to tell so it doesn't just sound like a dry speech. I think I give them a pretty good picture of what the job is like, if they're thinking of applying, and what we're doing for the Canadian public, if they're just concerned about where their tax dollars are going." He paused for a moment. "Well, where their parents' tax dollars are going. But, anyway, it's not the talks that are bothering me. It's the rest of it."

"What's the rest of it?"

"Oh, there's always some sort of reception or some other opportunity to 'get acquainted'. Not just a formal speech, hein? Chance to see a real Alpha Flight mutant up close." He turned the chair around. The somewhat sour expression on Jean-Paul's face matched the tone in his voice.

I sat down across from him. "And?" He didn't say anything. I tried again. "Do you feel sort of on display? Uncomfortable?"

"I don't mind that. I'm there to be on display, n'est-ce pas? It's more the questions." He looked down. "I guess I should have thought of this - all the talks are at colleges and universities. So of course the students and professors ask me about my university education. Of which I have none, as you know. And I have yet to find a good way to explain to people I don't know and will never see again why I dropped out of high school to join the circus. Somehow I don't think 'it seemed like a good idea at the time' is a really good explanation. Still, I really don't want to go into all that was happening to me then, making school pretty much impossible. So, I just say it, no excuses. They look at me like I have two heads or something. Or at least like I don't belong there. I'm wondering if I should tell Mac to get somebody else to do the rest of these."

"I'm sorry you're uncomfortable, Jean-Paul." I hesitated, not sure how much to say, knowing it's an area he's really sensitive about. "Do you think, though, you might be imagining the disapproval? I've sometimes felt when we're with my friends and colleagues that you're so much more concerned about not having been to college than anybody else is. You're smart, you're so knowledgeable, you have a good job. What does the lack of a degree matter?"

He shrugged. "Maybe you're partly right, mon ami. I'm sure I think about it more than you do. But it's easy for you, with your Ivy League education, hein? You wouldn't have any trouble answering those questions." He put the papers back in the folder and closed it. "But I'll stick it out. I don't want to appear a coward. Do you still want to come along and watch? When someone asks me about my education I'll just grab you and force you on him. 'Actually,' I'll say, 'I spent what would have been my college years as a circus performer and then a ski bum but my lover here graduated from Columbia.' And then I'll make you talk to them."

I chuckled at that. "So was this worrying you enough that you couldn't sleep?"

"No, not exactly. Vraiment? I woke up thinking about us, worrying about you. I just got this stuff out to do something productive since I wasn't going back to sleep."

I reached out for his hand, held and stroked it. "What are you worried about, love? I'm so happy to be with you again. You know that, don't you? I haven't exactly been reserved with you. I haven't been holding back."

I smiled at him, but he looked at me so earnestly, those dark eyes gripping mine. "Are you okay about before? I didn't mean to pressure you into something you weren't ready for. I want you to feel safe." He smiled then, a little hesitantly. "I do want to give up the condoms, though."

"Come on." I stood up, and pulled him up, too. "Come back to bed. We can talk there." We got into bed together. I put my arms around him and kissed him hard, hands on the back of his head. "It was so good, Jean-Paul. I don't regret it. You're right; it's time. I just want to make sure we're careful about this, careful to stay safe. It could be hard to tell each other if something happens, you know. That's really my only concern, that we both feel we can say so if we engage in anything risky." I pushed Jean-Paul's hair away from his face so I could look him in the eye. "Deal?"

"D'accord." He waited a minute before saying anything more. "Can we talk about other kinds of risk, mon amour?" I nodded, encouraging him to continue. "It shook me up, what you said in your email. About not wanting me to make demands that you not take on dangerous assignments. And saying you don't make those demands on me, asking if I thought about what it was like for you when I'm on a dangerous mission." He paused again. "I'm ashamed to say it, Adam, but I never thought about it at all. It's not that I'm unaware of the danger. It's just so much a part of the job, so much a part of my life that I didn't think about what it would be like for you. It opened my eyes, thinking that the fear I had for you when you were undercover with those maniacs is what you must go through all the time." He took both my hands, looking straight at me. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry. Some risks are worth taking. I don't begrudge you the danger in your job - it's important work. I'm scared for you but I'm so proud of you, too. I brag about you all the time, you know." That got a smile out of him.

"I think you and I are different that way," he said. "About work, I mean. I like what I do, most of the time. But I basically fell into it. It's a job and a pretty good one, if you don't mind danger and crazy hours and not knowing what you're going to do from one day to the next. But if I'm honest I have to say that I do like all that. I like the variety, and the excitement. Still, it's just a job to me. If you wanted me to give it up, I would. Wendy and Arthur keep trying to get me to settle at the outpost with them. I could live a quiet life there and fly to you wherever you are assigned."

"Oh, you couldn't do that, Jean-Paul! And I'd never ask it of you, anyway. Hey, don't get me wrong. I had a great time in Saskatchewan. It was the first time we really got to be together and it was just pure joy being there with you. But you couldn't stay there long term. You couldn't give up your work."

He laughed softly again. "I could indeed," he said. "It just doesn't mean the same thing to me as it does to you. To me it's just a job. Adam, you say 'work' like other people say 'God'. "

I was the one laughing at that, laughing at myself, really. "I guess so. I know I can be kind of driven. But work is important to me. I do want to do the best I can. And I want recognition for it, too. Is that shallow of me?"

"Non, mon amour, not at all. And I am so happy to see you getting the recognition you deserve. I understand that it's important to you. I brag about you, too, you know. Walter said he thinks anybody meeting me now must think I have a lover named 'Pulitzer Prize-winning Adam Greenfield'. He says he's going to call you 'Pulitzer' for short, next he sees you."

I laughed at that. "I can just hear him saying it, too."

Jean-Paul turned serious. "It scared me so, though, when no one knew where you were or how you were. And for so long. Is there nothing that can be done about that? What if they had found you out? How would anyone know?"

I stroked his hair and kissed him again. "I know, Jean-Paul. Marv said the same thing - they thought of sending someone in after me but didn't know if that would endanger me further. He said they were on the verge of calling in the Feds when I managed to surface and contact him. It was too long with no way to communicate. I never dreamed it would take two months and didn't know what to do in order to get word out. And I just really wanted the story. I could have left, but I didn't want to, not before I found out everything I'd gone there for. It took longer than I thought, longer to earn their trust. I lost some perspective, there. If I didn't know it before I know it now. There won't be any more assignments like that - no undercover assignments without set checkpoints and drop dead dates."

"So I wasn't totally out of line?" That delicious, teasing smile that melts me every time.

"No, not totally. 80 percent?" He laughed at that. "Okay, maybe not so quantifiable. Wrong to tell me not to take undercover assignments anymore, not wrong to express concern."

"D'accord," he said again.

"We're just agreeing all over the place tonight."

"I'm a pretty agreeable fellow, hein? And I'm nuts about you. It makes me at least try to agree to what you ask of me."

"Hold that thought," I told him, taking a deep breath. "What do you think of coming to New York with me next month? My mother suggested I bring you home for Pesach."

"Pesach?"

"It's a Jewish holiday. Also called Passover. Festival of freedom."

"Ah oui, I know of it. I just didn't know the other name." He beamed at me. "Of course I'll come! So, finally I get to meet your mother."

"Believe me, it's you I've been protecting. I had nightmares of her asking you what your intentions are towards her son. Which she still might, you know, but I figure you're in deep enough now she can't scare you off."

He laughed, a low chuckle. "Vraiment, mon ami. In very deep. Anyway, it won't be a problem. I'll just tell her that of course my intentions are serious: we're barebacking, after all."

"I can just see it," I told him, laughing now, too. "She wouldn't even know what you meant. She'd probably think it had something to do with horses."

"No horses," whispering in my ear now in that way that never fails to turn me on. "But I do love riding you." I kissed him again, my cock hard against his thigh. But he was distracted, thinking about the proposed visit. "So, your mother wants to meet me? Am I right that she's not too thrilled that you're in love with a Francophone gentile mutant high school drop out?"

"I think I can honestly say the mutant part doesn't bother her at all." Jean-Paul laughed again. "Oh, and she loves that you speak French - she figures you're educational for me. But, yeah, she still has some of the same dreams she had for me before I came out, I guess, just adjusted. She'd be very happy to hear I'm going to set up housekeeping with some nice Jewish doctor and that we'll buy a big house and adopt a couple of children."

I pulled back a little, looking at him, wondering if that was not the thing to say. "I've told her about Joanne, Jean-Paul. She cried when I told her; she thought the whole story so tragic and you so courageous. She'll be fine with you. It's just that you aren't Jewish that bothers her, really. She'll get used to that."

"Why is it such a big deal? You're not so Jewish, hein? You never go to temple or anything, do you? Is that right, 'temple"?"

"Not really. Not for my kind of Jews, anyway. 'Shul' or 'synagogue' is better. And I do go sometimes. Not when I'm with you. But being a Jew is more than that. It's a big part of who I am. It's sort of like being gay - I'm gay even when I'm not doing anything about it."

"More fun when you are, though, n'est-ce pas?" Flashing me that sexy smile. "And you shouldn't feel like you can't go to 'shul?' Is that right?" I nodded. "Don't feel you can't go when you're with me, Adam. I'll go along if you like. You can tell me what to do, can't you?"

"Let's start with Pesach at my mother's house, okay? You might even like it. We'll go for the first seder. It's a ritual meal, with prayers and readings and songs. Family and friends - you've met enough of my New York friends that you'll at least know some of the guests. And I always write additional prayers and readings - it's become sort of a family tradition. 'My son the journalist' and all that. Anyway, the freedom theme lends itself to lots of different interpretations. I always put in something related to gay rights or AIDS. Last year I also wrote a prayer for the mutants in Belarus. We could add some more about mutants rights struggles this year. What do you think?"

"I think it sounds great." Kissing me on the forehead. "I think I'm glad you want your family to meet me." Then on the mouth, pushing his tongue in, making me moan. "And I think you're incredibly sexy." He got on top of me then, and I stroked his ass as he moved against me. I could feel his cock, hard against mine. He reached between us and stroked my hard-on slowly. "Encore une fois?" he asked, in that husky whisper that drives me wild. I answered affirmatively, but not in words, French or English.

Laura got out of the shower and went back into the bedroom she was sharing with Warren for the weekend. He was sitting at the desk, looking over some papers. She walked up behind him and kissed him on the back of the neck. "What are you doing?" she asked.

"Just looking at some tourist brochures I picked up in the airport. I thought maybe we could go out and do a little sightseeing tomorrow. What do you think?"

"Oh, I don't know. It's such a short time we're here. I don't want to spend it off on our own when we could be catching up with all of our old friends. There's the trip to Parc Mont Royal planned for Sunday morning, so we'll get some sightseeing in as a group, anyway. And we can always come back to Montreal by ourselves another time if you want play tourist."

Warren shrugged, his folded wings opening a little. "I thought the togetherness might get a bit much before the weekend's over, but if you'd rather stick around..." He sighed happily as Laura began to stroke his wings, starting at the crest of each and moving down. She touched them gingerly at first. "You can rub harder," he said, "I'm fine."

"Are you sure?" she asked anxiously.

"Yeah, Hank said it's not a problem. I can't fly yet, but you can touch them. Really. He said just to be guided by the pain. 'If it feels okay, you can do it,' he told me."

"And this feels okay?" she asked, rubbing a little harder now, stroking up and down the large, white wings as they unfolded further.

"More than okay," he sighed.

Laura laughed. "You've been hanging out with Scott too much," she said. "You're starting to sound like him."

"I don't need you to tell me I'm hanging out with Scott too much," he answered sourly. "He won't leave me alone. I don't know how many times I have to say 'no' to him before he gives up." He paused for a minute. "He's really getting on my nerves."

"Don't be so harsh on him. It's just because he cares."

"Well, I don't care," he shot back.

"You don't mean that."

Warren shrugged again. "Okay, I don't mean that. I don't need Scott's kind of caring, and I do mean that. I told him when I signed up for this that I was willing to rejoin the X-Men, but that's it. I'm not there just to do Scott Summers's bidding."

"That's not fair, Warren. This is not some whim of his. Scott's being persistent about this because it matters to him."

"I told him up front I'm not having anything to do with the school. I couldn't have been more clear about that. And he's been working on changing my mind ever since I got there. Trying to get me to talk about Wharton at his annual college fair, asking me to chaperone field trips, to coach a team, to be a substitute teacher. I've consistently told him 'no' - I'm not doing any of it. I thought he'd finally gotten the message and given up, and then this whole... campaign starts up. He won't leave me alone and now he's got Jean and Hank trying to convince me, too."

"This thing's different, though, don't you think? You're definitely the man for the mission this time."

Warren hit the desk with his fist. "It's not a mission! It's a goddamn school responsibility. And I'm not doing it. Don't you start on me, too, Laura."

Neither of them said anything for a minute. "I'm sorry I snapped at you," he said, finally, turning his chair around and pulling her onto his lap.

"Thanks," she replied, snuggling into him. "Don't worry about it. I know it's a sore spot for you."

"I shouldn't let it get to me. Certainly shouldn't take it out on you."

"Well, I don't understand why you won't do it," she said, looking him straight in the eye. "They cut off his wings, Warren. You know that, don't you?" He nodded. "Nobody can understand that like you can, particularly after what those bastards tried to do to you on our last mission. I've never been so scared in my life, you know," she added. He folded a wing around her and she stroked it again.

"It's okay," he whispered. "They didn't do it. And I'm better each day. I'll be back to normal soon, Hank's sure of it."

"Back to normal because of Scott, right? If he hadn't blasted them, they would have cut your wings off. Instead they barely escaped with their lives."

"Yeah, Cyclops got me out of that one," he acknowledged. "But hell, Laura, you've been on the team for a year now. That's how it is; you know it. I've saved Scott's ass plenty of times, too. I don't have to do the big brother bit to some fucked-up kid just because Summers saved my ass this time. I don't owe him anything."

"No, you don't owe it to Scott. You owe it to Jamie; he needs you. You owe it to the community. You're right - I have been on the team long enough to know how it is, Warren. It's not just a job, being an X-Man. You can't just compartmentalize it like that and say you'll do this kind of mission but not that. You can't just decide you'll help the whole human race but not the child in pain who's right in front of you. And you know what else? You owe it to yourself to do what you know is right. Nobody can help Jamie like you could."

He didn't answer at first, just sat there, thinking. "I can't do anything for him, Laura," he said finally, speaking softly this time. "I know that's hard to understand and I haven't done a good job of explaining it, but it's the way it is. I'm sorry. I wish I could, but I can't." He kissed her deeply, one hand reaching into her robe, cupping her breast, nipple hardening under his thumb. "I don't want to talk about it anymore now, okay?"

"Okay." She took his other hand and brought it to her chest, so he was stroking both breasts now. Then unzipped his pants, pulled out his cock, hard already. "I want that," she whispered.

"Be my guest." She moved to straddle him, sliding him into her warm, wet opening, smiling as she did. He kissed her again and then, holding onto her ass, stood up.

She wrapped her legs around him and they just stood there still for a minute, his hard cock deep inside her. Then he walked over to the bed. Without pulling out, he put her down on the bed on her back, lying on top of her, starting to move in and out. She took her legs off of him and planted her feet flat on the bed, pushing against the bed with her soles as she pushed her hips up to meet his strokes, hands sliding up and down his beating wings.

"So good like this," he told her, breathing hard now and pushing in with long, hard strokes. He bent his head down to kiss her ear and then her neck, hands still rubbing her breasts, moving strong and steady inside her. She held tight onto his wings with both hands now, her whole body moving with them as they beat harder and faster.

Laura's hands moved to Warren's shoulders as she started to come, gripping him tightly with her fingers while her cunt contracted on him again and again. He pumped hard into her as the waves of orgasm washed over her, mouth on her neck, wings beating harder and faster. And then he was coming, too, and his wings were pushing out as he jammed himself deep inside his lover, coming hard as he called her name.

They held each other for a few minutes without speaking afterwards, catching their breath and enjoying the afterglow. Warren moved off of Laura and lay next to her, smiling as he ran his fingers through her curly hair, still wet from the shower. "Warren?" she asked after a while.

"Yeah," he answered lazily.

"Did you know Scott's coming here this weekend?"

He groaned. "He's tracking me to another country?"

Laura laughed. "Not everything's about you, my love. I don't know exactly what this is about. Some mission, I think. Mac mentioned it in passing. Logan's coming, too."

"Do they need us? Or if they just need one more, I suppose I could go along. Let you stay for the rest of the reunion."

"No. I don't even think it's official X-Men business. Mac kind of clammed up when I asked him about it. All I know is they're expected here on Sunday morning, on their way somewhere. And they're going to meet with Mac while they're here. He was putting together a file for them - maps and photos and stuff."

"Hmm. Sounds mysterious."

"Yeah. Oh, speaking of mysteries, there's something I've been meaning to ask you."

"What?"

"What exactly happened with you and Wendy in the clock tower?"

Arthur lay back on the bed, sighing happily. He pulled Wendy to him and she got on top of him, head on his chest. "Feel good?" he asked her.

"Mmm hmmm," she answered, sleepily. "I thought I was too tired for sex, after such a long day. Thanks for talking me into it." She sighed. "You're so good to me, darling."

He kissed her on top of the head. "I live to serve," he said and she laughed. "Okay, I'll admit it. This may come as a surprise to you, Wen, but I don't just do it for you. I actually get something out of it myself." She laughed again.

They held each other silently for a while, in the middle of the big bed. April, on a twin bed across the room, started talking in her sleep, the only intelligible words being "Jean-Paul" and "cuddle". Wendy chuckled at that. "I was so glad when she finally fell asleep," she said. "It seemed like we were going to spend most of the night keeping her out of Jean-Paul's room. I swear she's just impossible to keep track of these days. We so much as blinked and she was headed upstairs to join them. I could not find a way to get through to her three-year-old brain that Jean-Paul and Adam didn't want her in there, cuddling with them, that they really needed their privacy."

"Of which they got precious little," Arthur countered. "I don't know how Mac could have gotten mixed up on his dates like that."

"I know. Jean-Paul was so mad. I've hardly ever seen him like that. I think of him mostly as my sweet, gentle friend, you know? And April's object of adoration. As well as Adam's lover, of course. But every once in a while we get a glimpse of Northstar, too. Tonight, I think, we saw a little of what he could be like in a real rage. I've got a feeling things will be a little tense in Alpha Flight for a while."

"Well, look on the bright side. At least April learned some French words she wouldn't have heard otherwise. Of course, they aren't words we want her to repeat in public."

Wendy laughed again. "Well, I don't think he really held onto his anger, which is good. Jean-Paul and Adam didn't seem inhibited too much by all of us being downstairs."

"Yeah," he answered, chuckling. "They certainly didn't sound inhibited. Quite the endurance record, too. I thought they'd never stop."

"Well, they have been apart for two months. They had a lot of catching up to do."

"So, what do you think it'll be like with them tomorrow when they meet everybody? Jean-Paul and Adam are both pretty private about sex, unlike you and your Mawrter friends." He paused for a minute. "Do you think they'll be miserable meeting everyone?"

"Oh, I don't think they realized how loud they were, or how sound carries in this house. Really, I don't think they'll have cause to be embarrassed unless someone says something." He looked at her a little skeptically. "I know. This crowd is so discreet; how could that happen?" She laughed to herself again, a warm chuckle.

Arthur stroked her hair and sighed. "I love to hear you laugh, Wen. After all these years, it's still the best sound." Sliding his hand down her back and stroking her round ass, he added, "Well, one of the best."

"Plenty to laugh about tonight, right?" And she giggled a little, remembering. "I just about died when Susan asked 'That Adam?' and pointed at the ceiling."

"That was pretty funny. They're a humorous crowd, your college friends and their assorted spouses. I'll give them that."

"How do you think our campaign to get Susan and Diana in Saskatchewan is going?"

"I don't know. I barely talked to Diana tonight. But I really like Susan. I'd love to have her there. Oh, and Wen? Do you know what she does for a living?" Wendy shook her head. "She's a bookkeeper. Can you believe it? I was having orgiastic fantasies of turning the books and records of the outpost over to her."

"Just get her committed to living there before she sees what a mess you've made of them since Jean-Paul left, darling."

"There's a point. I'm worried, though, that she'll think it too isolated, that she'll feel like she'd be all alone there as a non-mutant. And with her and Diana being the only queer folk, too."

Wendy nodded. "Yes, I can see that as an issue for her. And she's used to all the variety of living in a city with so many options for things to do all the time. On the other hand, maybe she'd like small town life for a while, particularly with a new baby. We've got such a good place to raise kids. I can't think of anywhere better for April to grow up than in our community - I'll have to talk to Susan and Diana about some of the advantages of being a child in a place where everyone knows you and takes care of you." She smiled, just thinking of the society they were creating. "And as to the other things, well we really do need to recruit more non-mutants if we're going to be a mixed community. It's not enough that we have some kids who aren't mutants - it suggests that being a mutant is something everyone grows into, and it's not. The kids need role models of healthy, happy adults who aren't mutants. It's as important for our kids as it is for mutant kids in society at large to see adult mutants who aren't presented as some bizarre freaks."

"Yeah, not that that's happening."

"Some day, sweetheart," she said, stroking his leg. "For now we change the world in our own little way. Getting mixed couples to come to Saskatchewan would be a good way to increase our diversity. Or maybe people like Heather and Mac who've spent a lot of time with mutants."

"You don't think they'd give up Alpha Flight for our little New Jerusalem, do you?" Arthur asked skeptically.

"No, I was just using them as an example. There must be other people like them, who've spent much of their work life and social life among mutants. What about some of the scientists who've done the research on the X-gene? Or maybe there are doctors who've specialized in treating mutants, teachers who've had lots of mutant students, or someone whose sister or brother or best friend is a mutant. Heather and Mac can't be the only 'normals' who are comfortable around us." She paused and laughed again. "Although if we did manage to talk them into joining maybe we could kill two birds with one stone. Help on the queer front, too? Well, if Heather felt moved to revisit her lesbian period, that is. Did you get the impression that Mac wasn't really aware of that? So funny. I wonder if he has even seen any pictures of her in college."

"Why? What did she look like?"

"Cute as hell, same as now. But with a buzz cut instead of the long hair. All this lesbian jewelry - pink triangle earring, intertwined Venus symbol necklace, rainbow flag lapel pin on this denim jacket she always wore. And I swear every picture I have of her she's wearing a t-shirt that says something like 'Dykes R Us' or 'Queer Nation - We Recruit'. He's a smart man - I think he'd catch on from something like that."

Arthur laughed at that. "Yes, I think so. It did seem like that chapter in her life wasn't one he was familiar with." He paused to kiss his wife again. "Which reminds me, Wen. What exactly happened with you and Warren in that clock tower?"

Someone else might think that April would sleep in late after a night of being chased away from Jean-Paul's room several hundred times. I know my daughter, though, so I wasn't surprised when she was up bright and early. She usually wakes up with a smile, but this morning my little girl looked confused and upset when she opened her eyes and saw she wasn't at home. It's only recently that she has transitioned to her own bed, so I'd been a little reluctant to put her in a separate bed here. When she woke up looking on the verge of tears I wondered if we'd done the right thing. Still, she relaxed and smiled as soon as she saw us in the big bed across the room. "Montreal!" she said in a triumph of memory, pronouncing it the French way, like Jean-Paul does. She walked over and climbed into bed with us for a cuddle, but was soon poking and wiggling enough that it was clear she wasn't going back to sleep. Arthur stuck a pillow over his head and groaned. I patted him fondly and took April downstairs.

We went to the kitchen first and I started making coffee. "Do you want to go play in the living room, hon?" I asked her. "Remember, there's a big toy box there."

April shook her head. "I want to make breakfast."

"Good idea. Let's see what they have here. We can surprise everybody else when they get up."

"Jean-Paul's here!" she said, smiling in happy memory.

"Yes, Jean-Paul and Adam are here. And Laura and Warren. And Mac and Heather. And some new people, too. Do you remember their names?"

We chatted about the people in the house while I gathered ingredients and cooking implements. April and I started making a large bowl of mixed fruit and an even larger batch of pancake batter. Intent on what we were doing, we didn't notice Laura had come in until we heard her laughing. "Is there a little girl under all that flour?" she asked April.

I offered her coffee and fruit and started cooking the pancakes. "I don't remember you being an early morning type," I said. "Did you have trouble sleeping? Is your room not comfortable?"

"It would be fine if I were here by myself," she answered, yawning. "I'm realizing all over again that a double bed really just doesn't work for Warren and me. I love him dearly, but he is such a bed hog. Those wings! He just flexes and stretches them in his sleep all night."

"Oh, I know! You really need a king size bed with him," said Caroline, baby Joshua in the sling, as she walked into the kitchen. Laura looked up at her quizzically. "I mean, I can imagine you would, since he's so big." She paused a moment. "You know, like you said." Waiting another moment. "About the wings, that is. They look pretty big." Caroline looked around. "Is there any coffee?"

I gave her some and offered her pancakes, too, but she said she wasn't hungry yet. "How well did you know Warren in college?" Laura asked Caroline pleasantly. Before she could answer, though, Adam came into the kitchen.

"Good morning!" he said, walking over to kiss April and me and pouring himself some coffee.

"Adam! So nice to see you again." Laura greeted him and then sat down next to Caroline.

"Oh! So you're Adam!" Caroline beamed at him as he sat down across from her and Laura. Adam looked across the table questioningly. "Oh, well you don't know me, but I heard you. Ouch, Laura, that was my shin! Be a little more careful where you put your foot." Rubbing her shin she turned back to Adam. "I mean I heard you were coming." She grimaced at Laura. "That was my toe." Slightly flustered, she continued, "I mean I heard you were going to be here." With a quick "Was that okay?" look at Laura, Caroline introduced herself and her sleeping son to Adam. "Laura tells me you're a journalist," she said. "What paper do you work for?"

"The Miami Herald," he answered.

"Adam Greenfield?" she asked.

"Yes. Do you know the Herald? Have you read some of my stuff?"

"I don't really know the Herald, but yes, I've read all of your stories on Belarus. Not when they came out, though, just recently. Between them being about an issue that hit pretty close to home and you winning the Pulitzer for the series, they certainly caught my attention. They were wonderful, Adam. I cried my eyes out reading them."

Adam thanked her. "What are you working on now?" Laura asked.

"Not a thing," he said, huge smile lighting up his face. "I'm taking a whole week off of work - I haven't done that in I don't know how long. I'm going to tag along with Jean-Paul when he does his Alpha Flight dog-and-pony show and just generally take it easy. But I just finished a series of stories about Sacred Honor. Have you heard of them?" Laura and Caroline both said they hadn't. "One of these right-wing militia groups. Very secretive. They live in this compound in Idaho, completely isolated. A whole secret community, really."

"So how did you write about them?"

"I infiltrated - joined their group for a couple of months. Under an assumed name, of course. Not letting on that I'm a reporter. And a Jew. And gay."

"That must have been terrifying!" Laura said.

"Yeah, I was pretty scared at first - sure I'd say something wrong and blow my cover. But after a while I kind of settled into it. It became clear they were accepting me as what I seemed to be. I think I managed to stay in character the whole time. At any rate, they didn't find out. They'll be pretty surprised, I think, when the series comes out, although I'm sure they suspect something by now, considering my rapid departure from there.

"God, it was a strain, though, to stay there. They are unbelievably hateful. If you're not white and Protestant and heterosexual and totally reactionary, you're not worthy of living, as far as they're concerned. It was pretty shocking to hear the way they talk, even though I'd read tons of 'patriot' propaganda in advance."

Laura asked what their printed materials were like. "Well, they're pretty careful about how they phrase things in anything they put out to the public," Adam answered. "Reading between the lines, you can see which groups they're targeting, but they've gotten much more sophisticated in the way they write in the last 15-20 years. So much of the hatred in the pamphlets and newspapers these groups put out is written in a kind of code, where the people they hate and fear are identified as 'anti-patriots' or 'globalists' or 'the New World Order'. Occasionally they slip and print something that makes clear who they deem to be in those groups, but usually they're pretty careful in their published materials. In person, though, they drop any semblance of basing their hatred on people's actions or political views. They're totally clear that it's their race or religion or ethnicity. Or sexual orientation or mutant status, for that matter - they're pretty much equal opportunity bigots and they make no bones about it."

"It sounds so awful, Adam!" I said. "Jean-Paul was pretty much crazy with worry for you. I tried to calm him down, but I was scared, too."

"I know - we were just discussing this last night."

"Yes, I think I might have heard some of that discussion. Or something," Caroline offered, swinging her legs to the side opposite where Laura was sitting.

Adam looked confused, but continued. "I do think I lost some perspective, that I need to take more precautions with assignments like this. They would have been glad to see me dead on at least three counts - a gay, Jewish reporter is pretty much one of their major nightmares. Not to mention that my lover's a mutant. But it really is an important story and you just can't get a picture of what they are really like from the outside, in part because they have gotten so much more skillful at how they present themselves. I wanted to convey what it's like to hear people talking like they do over dinner or just in the course of daily life. It's that day-to-day living aspect that really shows what they are, I think. It just hits you so differently than reading some pamphlet or even hearing a hate-mongering speech. They're so bigoted, and just so matter of fact about it, if you know what I mean. As if everybody thinks like that." He paused, remembering. "You know what was the worst? The kids!"

"They had children there?" I asked, bringing a platter of pancakes over to the table and sitting down between Adam and April.

"Yeah, it's a whole settlement, a community. Totally isolated. I could barely stand to hear what was coming out of the mouths of these adorable little children. And they have no idea that what they're saying would be offensive to anybody. They've never even met anyone who doesn't share their parents' bigotry."

"People like that shouldn't be allowed to have kids. There ought to be a law." The disgust was as evident in Caroline's voice as in her words.

"Some would say that about us, you know." April had finished her breakfast and I suggested again that she go play with the toys in the living room. After she left, I continued. "I think it's really dangerous to make laws about who should be allowed to procreate."

"I agree with Wendy," Adam said. "I don't think that's the answer to this kind of thing. I'm hoping that the articles will illuminate what's going on in groups like this, but I don't think, really, that it's the place of the law to intrude on those kinds of decisions. It's a hard balance - we need to count on the law to protect all of us from them, to not let their violent fantasies become reality. On the other hand, they ought to have the same freedom of speech and association as anyone else. It's not the law's place to tell them how to live. The way they've isolated their community, they way they think, the way they talk - it's all abhorrent to me, but it's their choice, after all. It's what they think 'most likely to effect their safety and happiness' - to remove themselves from a society full of people they hate and fear."

"Their choice, but they're imposing it on innocent children, too." Caroline continued, doggedly. "Those kids aren't going to see your articles, Adam, or anything else that would open their eyes to what's being done to them. Like you said, they don't get exposure to any ideas but those of their own little isolated group. In general, I agree - the law isn't the answer to everything. People should be left alone to live as they choose. But this is a pretty extreme case - they're poisoning those kids' minds."

"I wouldn't trust that the people who make laws would prefer any of us as parents to those bigots Adam was writing about," Laura interjected. "I'm with Adam and Wendy. How would you even craft a law or policy so it applied to people like that? You can't make procreation contingent on having, or not having, certain opinions. That's Orwellian thought control."

"Well, you could require that they send their kids to public school, anyway. Then they'd at least be exposed to some other people and other ideas."

"But that would apply equally to Wendy's and Arthur's community," Adam countered. "It's clear that it's not safe for them to send the kids to the public schools. I've been to Prince Albert - the nearest sizeable town to the outpost. It's just full of those 'No Mutants Allowed' signs. They're protecting the kids by not sending them to school in a community where they'd be exposed to those kinds of ideas. They're raising children who won't even be aware of anti-mutant hostility until they're old enough to handle it. Would you want a law requiring them to send their kids to public schools where they'd hear their parents are freaks and worse?"

Caroline mused on that. I did, too. "Well, I'm not sure we aren't legally required to send the kids to school," I said, after a minute. "I haven't even checked on what the homeschooling laws are in Saskatchewan. I suppose I should before April gets old enough for public school." I thought about that a little. "But, nobody really knows there are kids other than April at the outpost. We're building a community, but we're doing it in secret. Very few of us go into town and we've gone to a lot of trouble to build in a way that someone driving by would think there isn't anything but a single-family house on that property. Officially, it's just Arthur and April and me there, with occasional houseguests. And it's in a remote enough location that hardly anyone goes by there, anyway."

"Do you find it hard to live in hiding like that?" Adam asked. "Jean-Paul has been telling me more about the progress of the community, so I'm not surprised by what you're saying. But I really didn't realize the extent of the secrecy when I was there."

"Oh, we were still building when you were there, so there weren't nearly as many people to hide," I told him. "We're up to 24 residents now, counting the children, and we want to go to double that or so. And, yes, I do find it hard. Our mission there is two-fold, really. We're building a community and a school. But we're also set up to be a refuge if anti-mutant feeling in the States gets to the point where it isn't safe to continue Xavier's Academy, if they have to evacuate the whole Westchester school and community."

"Do you think it really could come to that?" Caroline asked anxiously.

"After what happened to us in our little town in Vermont - where I would have sworn all of our neighbors were good people - I think anything's possible. I do think we need to be prepared. Places like Xavier's, with so many mutants in one house, are bound to be prime targets if some sort of anti-mutant civil war breaks out. So, I'm glad we're there as the escape hatch. And I do accept that secrecy is essential to fulfilling that mission.

"On the other hand," I continued, "That's really our secondary role, as I see it, the one we hope we never have to fulfill. Our primary mission is to create a community that lives up to the ideals we espouse, to raise happy, healthy, confident children to populate it. And I worry that that mission is threatened by the secrecy. How can we teach our children to be proud of who they are while we're keeping them in hiding?"

"It certainly makes it harder," Laura answered. "But maybe by the time they're old enough to realize they're living in hiding they'll also be able to understand why. It's not like Otto Frank's family or anything. I would think the kids aren't even aware of the secrecy in general, right? The hiding comes mostly from where you're situated, not from actively stopping the kids from going anywhere or doing anything."

"That's true. I hadn't really thought of it that way, but you're right. We're not making the kids do anything to hide who they are. They just learn and play and do anything they'd do anywhere else. So, they don't go into Prince Albert - they get to go other places. Like April coming on this trip or the Sudak kids going to Westchester for a week last month and sightseeing in New York. It would be harder if we had to teach the kids to hide out or lie about who they are, but it really hasn't come to that." I stopped to think for a minute. "But you know what bothers me? Adam, when you talk about Sacred Honor, it sounds all too familiar. Not the hatred of those different than you, of course, but the secrecy, the isolation. I listen to you telling us what it was like undercover with those people and it doesn't sound so different from the life I'm living. I'm almost scared to read your articles, scared it will sound just like our community."

"Oh, Wendy, they are nothing like what you're building in Saskatchewan!" Adam was emphatic. "Read the articles - you'll see. Hey, if I could, I'd write about you guys, too, and it would be totally different. You're creating something truly wonderful up there."

"I won't argue with you on that. I wouldn't be doing it if I didn't believe in it. But it troubles me to recognize the similarities. Ever since last night when you told us about this series I've been thinking about this. I keep asking myself, 'What makes us different from Sacred Honor?' The only answer I've come up with so far is 'we're right and they're wrong' and somehow that doesn't seem adequate."

They all chuckled at that. "I understand why it worries you," Laura jumped in. "I think it's one of those things where there are significant surface similarities but the core is just so different. They're keeping their children away from others because they hate and fear everyone who isn't like them. You're keeping your children away from people who would hate and fear them. It's totally different."

"That is an important point, I'll concede," I told her. "But Adam, don't you think the Sacred Honor people might say something similar? Or at least that they are protecting their children from harmful influences."

Jean-Paul walked in at that point, April wrapped around him. He greeted Laura and told her he was glad to hear that she and Warren were around this weekend. I was impressed that he managed to sound like he meant it, too. He disengaged one hand from April and introduced himself to Caroline, shaking hands with her and admiring baby Joshua.

"Well, Adam, what do you think?" he asked, after introductions were complete. "Would Sacred Honor think they are protecting the children, same as Wendy is?"

"They did say that, a lot of things just like that. But I agree with Laura - it's a surface similarity."

"And I agree with Wendy, mon ami. 'We're right and they're wrong' - that's the difference. The only place where I disagree is, chez moi, that's enough. It's all the difference in the world to me."

"Alone at last." His tone was amused, his glance teasing, but I wasn't sure if there was a layer of annoyance underneath. I worried that there might be.

"I'm sorry, Adam. I didn't want to hurry her off." We were lying on the bed in my room in the Cote St. Luc house. Just Adam and me, no longer a threesome.

"Don't apologize, love." Stroking my cheek, smiling at me. "I love to see you with April. You're so cute together." Chuckling a little.

"Is that good?" I asked, teasing him back. "I must tell you, mon amour, 'cute' is not exactly what I'm aiming for with you. I want you in a state of unbridled lust when you think of me, not saying to yourself 'Oh, isn't he adorable'."

"Oh, I think you know the lust is there, don't you? Haven't I been showing it? But 'unbridled'? Must you bring horses into everything? What will my mother think? If I'd known about the equine obsession I might have thought twice about getting involved with you."

Then we were both laughing. And kissing, with the kiss swallowing up the laughter. After a while he turned serious. "I do love seeing you with April, Jean-Paul," he said. "That part was no joke. It gives me a glimpse of what you must have been like as a father. I wish I'd known you when Joanne was alive."

"Moi aussi. For purely selfish reasons. Her illness and death were hellish - easily the worst thing that has ever happened to me. And just so hard, alone. Somehow I think it would have been easier to share the pain." He stroked my hair and held me close. I felt a little regret at what I'd said. "I don't wish to sound so self-pitying. I wasn't totally alone. My friends were great, Walter in particular. But it would have been a good time to have a lover to lean on."

Neither of us said anything for some time. "Have you ever thought of trying again?" he asked, finally, sounding not very sure of whether he should say it. "You're somebody who just ought to be a parent."

"I don't think I could, really. I don't have it in me to go through that again. I'd be a total wreck about every little childhood ailment, hein? Even with April, any time she's sick it brings back all those memories. I'm getting better about it, but it was bad for a while there. Vraiment, it was all I could do to not just shake Wendy and Arthur and demand that they take her to the doctor right away with just the slightest sniffle. I tell you, there were times when I almost bundled her up in a blanket and flew her to Westchester and Hank myself. Wendy had to remind me more than once that it wasn't my decision to make." I sighed sadly, thinking about it. "Mon dieu, I'd be a horror with a child of my own."

"Maybe not, love. Of course, you'd be scared at first, but it would get better, like it has with April. You'd see that it's normal childhood illness and relax. N'est-ce pas?" he asked, kissing me again.

"But it wouldn't be. What would my chances be of adopting a healthy baby? None at all. Adam, you know how hard it is for gay men to adopt. And it's worse for mutants. If I were able to at all it would be a child like my poor Joanne, someone nobody else wanted, someone everyone else was afraid to love. Well, I'd be afraid now, too. I no longer have 'the amulet that protects me from the belief in danger.' I'm not so brave as I was formerly."

"It's harder to be brave when you've seen the danger, Jean-Paul. I know that."

I nodded. "It's not like I'm looking for some sort of guarantee, Adam. I know, no matter how healthy the baby is at birth, anything can go wrong. Parenting is risky business, after all. None of us know if we'll raise a healthy child or have those dreams cut short by illness or accident. I realize that. But I just couldn't go into this again with the deck stacked against me. I'm not strong enough, Adam."

"Oh, Jean-Paul! It's not weakness. Of course you want a reasonable chance at happiness, at raising a child to adulthood. It's a crime that someone like you, someone who would be a perfect father, should have such a hard time becoming a parent. It's just not fair."

"Oui, but that's how it is. It's easier for women, hein? Look at Susan and Diana. They can grow their own."

"Hey, I bet Wendy would have a baby for you if you asked her." I laughed but he insisted he was serious. "She's the foremost proponent of the Jean-Paul-needs-a-baby theory. And you know she'd do absolutely anything for you."

"Do you really think that would be a good idea? You think Arthur would think it's a good idea?"

"I'm not suggesting you have sex with her, you know."

"I know." I held him, thinking. "I don't think I could, anyway."

"No? I know you've never done it with a woman. Never wanted to at all? Nothing there?"

I shook my head. "Rien. I never had the slightest interest. It was... awkward sometimes, before I came out. I didn't know what to say."

He chuckled again. "I can imagine. I'm sure you're just as attractive to women as you are to men, my love." He sighed deeply. "You're quite a catch, you know. Naturally monogamous *and* a perfect Kinsey 6. I swear you must be one of a kind."

"Et toi? I know you had sex with women, but it was a long time ago, right?"

"Yeah. 'Girls' would be more accurate than 'women'. It was really just in high school, when I was hoping I'd grow out of the way I felt when I looked at guys in the locker room. But yeah, I did enjoy it, so I'm not as pure as you."

Laughter in his voice. Still, I asked him seriously, "Do you ever think you'd get involved with a woman again?"

"Not a chance. I enjoyed straight sex, yes. But I didn't know there was anything better then. I do now." He shook his head. "I'm not bi, even if I'm not a perfect 6. It's men I'm interested in. One particular man, for a long time now."

"Oui?"

"Oui." He got on top of me and kissed me again, stroking the roof of my mouth with his tongue, hands stroking my shoulders and back. A long kiss, mapping out my mouth as if we'd never kissed before. I hate the way we have to spend so much time apart, but there is this to say for a long distance relationship - the sex still can feel fresh even after you've been together long enough to know each other so well.

Adam got off of me and pulled off his clothes, then mine. He sat up, cross-legged on the bed. "Lie the other way," he said, "across the bed."

"Why?"

"You'll see."

I turned 90 degrees and lay down again on my back. Adam lay down next to me, faced the other way, legs dangling off the bed by my head. He was hard already and I took his cock in my hand, stroking and pulling him toward my mouth. He got on top of me again, pushing with his hips so his hard dick moved in and out of my mouth. I held it at the base and sucked hard, just exulting in the feel of him in my mouth and all over me. And then he was sucking me, too, tongue playing with my foreskin while he moved up and down on me.

At first it felt great. Then it felt too good and my mouth just kind of fell open, not sucking him anymore. "Adam," I said. "I can't. Not when you. Your tongue. And oh... your mouth. I just..."

He stopped sucking me briefly, stroking me with his hand. "It's okay," he said, soothingly. "Just hold on with your hand. Just let me do this." And then that wonderful mouth was all over me again, and he was using his tongue and the roof of his mouth and oh, the inside of his cheek was against me. All I know is he was making me feel like I was totally out of control with pleasure and excitement and love, his mouth on my dick, his dick in my hand, pressed against my cheek.

I pushed up with my hips when I came, deep in him. And then felt him licking the last drops off of me like he couldn't get enough. I was still catching my breath when he turned around and kissed me on the mouth again. "I'll do you now," I told him, getting up to reposition.

He shook his head. "I want to do something else," he said. "Get on your hands and knees, okay? I want to fuck you."

I did what he asked, commenting that he didn't usually like to top. He got out the lube and started to get us both ready. "I know," he told me, lying on my back, pushing in slowly. "I want to see what it's like without a condom." And then, all the way in me, "God, you feel good, Jean-Paul," half-way between a sigh and a whisper. He started moving in and out, hands on my hips, torso against my back, hitting my prostate with almost every stroke. "I never did it like this," he said, almost breathless. "You're right - it's better." Pushing in hard and fast now. "I feel you more. Different. Better. Something." And then not talking at all but pushing hard and fast, chest pressed against me, hot breath in my ear. He was sweating hard, sweat from his face falling on me, and making loud hot noises.

His mouth was on my neck when he came, sucking hard. And then I stretched out, lying flat on the bed, Adam still on top of me. He lay there on me, kind of panting, but talking to me, too. Telling me he loves me, telling me how good it felt, asking if that was unbridled enough for me. I laughed at the last part and he rolled off of me and we lay on our sides again, facing each other. Holding each other.

"Vraiment? You never did that without a condom before?" I took the edge of the sheet and wiped the sweat from his face.

He shook his head. "What can I say? I'm risk averse by nature and I grew up in the middle of an epidemic. It's a potent combo."

"Yes, it is. Well, I'm glad your first time was with me, mon coeur. I won't betray your trust, Adam." I kissed him again. We just lay there lazily for a while, enjoying the afterglow.

"Jean-Paul, I really do think Wendy would have a baby for you. Would you be scared to ask her? Scared it would hurt your friendship if she said 'no'?"

"Maybe a little. I think I'd be more scared that she'd say 'yes', though."

"Why scared?"

"Oh, just afraid to try again. Afraid to lose another child, to go through that particular hell again. Do you know, Joanne cried at the sight of someone in a lab coat before she was even a year old? So many blood tests, so many injections, so much pain and misery. And I would have given anything - my life gladly, my soul even more easily - to take that pain away from her. But where is Mephistopheles when you need him? Not in that damned hospital with me and my little girl."

"I know how awful it was. I understand the fear, really I do. But I also know what a fabulous father you were and would be again."

"If I were a good father, Adam, I wouldn't have let her die." There. It was said. He didn't answer at first.

"You know that isn't true," he said after a long time. "You did everything anyone could."

"I do know that, Adam, you're right. I know it in my head. But not in my heart, not always." Neither of us said anything for a while, thinking. "I don't know, Adam," I said finally. "I never thought beyond just not being able to face having another chronically ill child. I just couldn't see putting myself through that all again, knowing what I know now.

"But you're right, it would be better if I had a chance of a healthy child, and maybe surrogacy would be a way to get that chance. Still, I don't know that I can take the risk one more time, even if the chances were better. It's hard to try again after your heart is broken."

"Well, you got your heart broken by Kolya and you tried again with me, right? I know it's not the same thing, but it's love and pain and fear. That part's the same, isn't it?"

I thought about that a little. "Oui, that's the same. A lot's the same. But, mon coeur, it took a long time to be ready to try again with you. And I don't even know that I was ready, exactly. It's more that the right man came along."

"Well, maybe the right baby will come along, too. There's so much love in you, Jean-Paul. You need to share it, and not just with me." He was looking at me ever so seriously but then that teasing smile came back. "But this kind of love is only for me, d'accord?" He kissed me again, stroking my thigh. I started to get hard again.

"D'accord."

'So you've got to explore other kinds."

"We'll see. Let's explore this kind a little more right now."

"D'accord," he said again.

"Won't your mother be proud? I am teaching you French."

"So this is where you're hiding!" Heather announced triumphantly as she entered the small study and saw her husband seated at the desk. "Don't be such a coward. Jean-Paul might even forgive you if you give him a chance." Mac turned towards her and she saw that he was on the phone. Mouthing "sorry" she sat down in a nearby chair and waited for him to finish.

"No, whenever you get here is fine. I'll be around all day. Unfortunately, there's such a crowd here we can't offer to put you up overnight. Well, then that will work out fine. I'll see you tomorrow." He said good-bye and hung up, swiveling the chair round to face his wife.

"Who was that?" she asked.

"Logan. He and Scott are going to stop by here briefly tomorrow. I need to meet with them about a mission they're going on, but it shouldn't take too long."

"What mission?'

"I'm not sure of all the details. Something to do with Magneto. They're checking on the whereabouts of some of his henchmen. We've got information on a few of them and I agreed to help."

"Mac," she said slowly. "How long have we been married?"

"Come on, Heather, I forgot one date. I got mixed up, okay? I thought this reunion was next month. So I made a mistake. And I'm twenty-five years older than you. That doesn't mean I'm getting senile or anything. I know when we got married."

"That's not what I mean. Answer the question."

"Twelve years in June. So?"

"So, I know when you're lying to me. You get a little twitch at the corner of your mouth. Right there," she added, leaning over and touching her forefinger to the spot in question. Then kissing him. After a while she disengaged and asked, "What's really going on, darling?"

Mac exhaled loudly. "Really? I don't know. What I told you is just what they told me. Scott called a couple of weeks ago to ask for our cooperation on this mission. They want any information we have on two mutants who were part of Magneto's gang: Victor Creed and Mortimer Toynbee."

"The ones known as Sabretooth and Toad, right?"

"Yeah, that's them. I offered to find out whatever I could."

"So why haven't I heard anything about this? Why isn't it on the mission lists or in the interagency report?"

"Because I knew Scott was lying to me. I don't know what this is, but it's no X-Men mission. It's some clandestine activity of his and Logan's. And I figured if it was important to them to keep it quiet it best stay off of our official reports and duty lists."

Heather leaned forward, attentive. "How do you know he was lying to you?"

"I'd had a telephone meeting with Charles not two hours before Cyclops called. Covering current joint projects and any upcoming efforts we'd need each other's help on. Not a word about Creed and Toynbee."

"Did you confront Scott with what you knew?"

"No." He paused in thought. "I don't know what's going on, Heather, but whatever it is, it's big. For both Scott and Logan. This came right after that weekend they spent at the cabin. They're planning something."

"Something they can't share with Charles? Something they can't even tell you the truth about? What do you want to help them for, then?" He didn't say anything. "It's because of Logan, isn't it? Did he ask you to get involved, to keep this secret?"

Mac nodded. "I called him up right after I talked to Scott. I told him I knew Cyclops hadn't told me the truth and said I wanted the whole story before I decided whether to help them or not."

"What did he say?"

"He said, ‘Trust me, Mac. You don't want to know.' And then didn't say anything. I told him again I wouldn't help if he wouldn't come clean with me. He basically ignored that. ‘Find out about Toynbee to satisfy your curiosity, if you want,' he told me. ‘Find out about Creed for me.' And then he hung up. "

"What did you find out about Toynbee?"

"He's dead. Unsolved homicide in rural Manitoba. About two and a half years ago. Stolen goods on the scene. The police thought it might have been a dispute among the thieves. Maybe the killer was injured, too, and couldn't manage to get the spoils out of there. Or maybe he just panicked when he realized he'd killed his partner. They had lots of theories but no evidence. And not much reason to dig for more – the stolen goods were returned to their rightful owners and there weren't a lot of folks mourning Toad's death."

"How was he killed?"

"Multiple stab wounds to the chest. No weapon was ever found."

Heather looked him straight in the eye. "Three wounds, right? In a row? And all the way through his body?" Mac turned away from her gaze, but he nodded. "Logan killed him, and you know it. And you're going to help him kill the other one?" She shook her head in disbelief. "You're betraying every ideal you hold dear. You believe in the rule of law. You've devoted your life to upholding the law. And now you're going to help Logan commit a murder? Why, Mac?"

He put his hands out, palms up, in a gesture of resignation. "He asked me." Mac's voice was so soft she could barely hear him. "Heather, Logan has saved my life more times than I can count. This is only the second time he ever asked me to do anything for him. The first one was when he wanted me to get rid of the transmitter. And now this. He wouldn't be asking if he didn't have to. I trust him."

"You trust him? He won't trust you. He won't tell you what's going on."

"He would if he could, Heather. He's protecting me, I'm sure."

"Protecting you from prosecution if he's charged with murder? So you can say you knew nothing about it?"