(Author’s Note: I’ve gotten a few e-mails/PMs recently regarding this topic, so I thought I’d address it here, since it’s going to be particularly pertinent in this fic—I’ve gotten some comments that So-and-So’s powers shouldn’t be able to do X (or SHOULD be able to do Y). Remember folks, it all goes back to the note I made at the very beginning of the first fic in this series—different universe, different rules. The Evo series writers didn’t mind changing a character’s powers a bit when it fit the story-- like giving Moonstar a “hibernation” ability, or heck, almost anything dealing with Apocalypse’s powers—and I’m not going to, either. So if nothing else, keep this in mind—if it hasn’t been explicitly stated/shown or at least strongly implied either in the TV series or previously in my fanfic series, assume nothing about a character or their powers. Comicverse =/= Evoverse.)
 

     “Alright, let’s try it one last time, then we’ve got to get dressed up and ready. It’s going to be harder this time. Programming…. Now.”

     Moonstar waited patiently as she watched Beast’s eyes scan the computer screen in front of him, waiting for a response. After a few moments, the blue hairy Mutant gave a nod.

     Moonstar nodded back, and closed her one normal eye, her glowing eye increasing in brightness as she concentrated. A few seconds later, she opened her other eye again, staring at Beast.

     “It’s, um… 4J91sdw8kmDa2. And the ‘J’ and the second ‘D’ were upper-case.”

     Beast hit an enter key on the monitor and results were displayed to him.

     “Alright, you’ve definitely got something, here,” Beast said. “You’re absolutely right.”

     As proof, Beast turned the monitor around so that it was facing Moonstar so she could see the results displayed.

     “Okay, that’s five of five, each one progressively more abstract,” Beast stated. “And on this one, I used the Mansion mainframe’s highest grade of encryption, yet it apparently didn’t even faze you. You’ve deciphered it as quickly as you did all the others.”

     “So… you’re saying I can read computer’s ‘minds’ now?” Moonstar asked, her expression showing that she was a little freaked out by the concept. “But I barely know anything about computers.”

     “Your knowledge of computers and their programming has nothing to do with this,” Beast said, deep in thought. “It’s obvious that this change in your powers occurred when you mentally entered Nimrod’s core processor, but what I don’t get is how you can continue to do this. Charles told me that the act of trying to decode Nimrod’s thinking was too much for you, and even with Mastermind, Legion, Jean, and Charles boosting your mental powers, it nearly killed you to create Nimrod’s greatest fear, even though you can do it to humans and Mutants with almost no effort. Without other Mutants helping you out mentally, you shouldn’t be able to do this anymore.”

     “So… what exactly ARE my powers, then?” Moonstar asked.

     “That’s a question for later today,” Beast said, standing up from his seat on the other side of the desk. “Right now, we’ve got to get into our formal wear. Later, with your permission, I’m going to take a few MRIs to see exactly what’s going on, because it’s got to have something to do with your brain.”

     “Yeah, sure,” Moonstar said, standing up as well and stretching. “I want to know the answers as badly as you do, if not moreso. And I also want to figure out what the heck is going on with my left eye.”

     “And you’re certain it’s not affecting your vision at all?” Beast asked as they left the room.

     “Well, I don’t need a flashlight to navigate the hallways anymore if I need to use the restroom at night,” Moonstar smiled a little, “But other than that, no. I can see fine through both eyes.”

     “I don’t understand the point of this.”

     “Don’t understand the point of what?” Rogue asked, looking over at the X-Men’s newest member curiously as they both walked down the main staircase in the Mansion’s entrance room.

     “This… funeral,” X-23 said, her brows furrowed as they almost always were. “Wolverine and Cannonball are dead. They aren’t here anymore. I don’t understand why we’re having this big ceremony to whine about them being dead.”

     “Well, we aren’t really ‘whining’ about it,” Rogue said defensively, taken aback at X-23’s frankness. “It’s more to honor them, their lives, and how they affected others’ lives too.”

     “Why?”

     “What do you mean, why?” Rogue said, getting a little aggravated. “Because they were great people that we’re all gonna miss—a lot!”

     “But like I said, they aren’t here anymore,” X-23 said, her aggravation starting to show as well. “We’ll never see them again. They. Are. Gone. Why honor them when they aren’t even around to receive that honor? All you’re going to do is make yourselves emotionally weak, which will if prolonged will eventually lead to physical weakness, as well.”

     “X-23, it’s a bit more… complicated than that,” Rogue sighed, stopping at the base of the steps. “Have you ever heard of… of God? Or Heaven? Or Hell? I mean, I’m not sure if I believe in that kinda stuff, and I know Ray and Tabitha don’t, but—“

     “Of course I have,” X-23 replied, suddenly confused. “I heard them uttered a lot back when I was with H.Y.D.R.A. They’re parts of curses, things people say when they’re frustrated.”

     “Wait, so… you honestly don’t know?” Rogue said in disbelief.

     “Don’t know what? Get to the point already.”

     “Many people… many people believe that there’s a higher being, a ‘God’ who’s responsible for creating the universe and everything. I mean, depending on who you ask, this ‘God’ is a lot of different things, but lots of people believe that when we physically die, good people will spend their lives in an eternal paradise—often called ‘Heaven’ by a lot of people here in the States—and evil people will spend their lives in eternal torture, called ‘Hell’.”

     “So? What do people’s self-delusions have to with this whole funeral process?”

     “Look, I dunno if I’m really the one to be talking to about this,” Rogue said, starting to look rather uncomfortable, “But a lotta people think that we sort of honor the dead’s memories through this process, and maybe those who we’re honoring are looking down at us from… from a better place.”

     “Sounds nice… like so many fairy tales,” X-23 said, crossing her arms.

     “Well, again, I don’t know if I believe in it, but… you should at least know about it, so you can… so you can make your own decisions about it. You should ask Kurt, Kitty, or Hank, they seem to be pretty open about—“

     “No thanks, I’ve heard enough,” X-23 said, stomping off not towards the doors, leading outside, but back up the stairs.

     Rogue was about to run after X-23 when she heard someone else call her name. Turning toward the source, she saw an obviously devastated Kitty walking towards her, holding a piece of notebook paper in her hand.

     “Hey, Rogue,” Kitty said, trying to smile through the tears slowly streaming down her face but failing to. “I’ve… I’ve got my part of Mr. Logan’s eulogy written. Are you finished with yours?”

     “Yeah… yeah, I am,” Rogue replied, pulling out a crumpled piece of paper from her pocket. “I don’t know if it’s all that good, but…”

     “Oh, I’m sure you’ll do great… Mr. Logan will love it, I’m sure,” Kitty replied, her voice wavering a little as she said her former instructor’s name. “So… what’s the schedule?”

     “Well, Sam’s family arrived about an hour ago, and Jean and Scott told me they’ve finished setting up the area in the courtyard where the ceremony will take place, so we should be starting in about ten minutes. First the Prof’s going to say a quick intro, then Bobby and Jubilee are going to say a few things about Sam, then it’s our turn, and then we’re going to sing a few songs as the… as the coffins are buried. And then there’s the reception afterwards that’s just supposed to last until everyone’s tired.”

     “Rogue, you’re… you’re going to sing with the rest of us, aren’t you? I mean, I know you aren’t a Christian like Sam’s family who picked out the songs, but…”

     “Yeah… yeah, I will,” Rogue said, putting her hand on Kitty’s shoulder as the two made their way out the Institute’s main entry doors. “For Sam.”

     Everyone gathered couldn’t have asked for a prettier day.

     It was the perfect Spring Break day—hardly a cloud in the sky, sun shining, warm but with a cool breeze wafting by every now and then.

     The weather, of course, stood in stark contrast to the actual Mansion grounds.

     The Institute itself still stood, huge black scorch marks covering most of it, but otherwise undamaged except for a few interior areas around a few of the windows. However, everything else in the vicinity was blackened, completely burned into ashes or at least scorched. Per Mayor Kelly’s orders, the Bayville Fire Department had stayed away from the Sentinel battle that had taken place in this very spot barely more than a week ago, and had only moved in to keep the fire from spreading after the Sentinel fleet had left with their targets. By then, the fires started by the battles hadn’t been put out before they had burnt down nearly all of the foliage on the Mansion grounds, though the firefighters had stopped the conflagration before it burnt down the Mansion proper.

     The funeral itself was being held outside the east wing of the Mansion. Logan’s and Sam’s respective tombstones had been placed and their graves had been dug, facing away from the Mansion and towards the bay. Jean, already having shown herself to be quite the sculptor, had hand-crafted busts of both Sam and Logan, which were attached to the tops of their tombstones. Both of their coffins—which had their X-Man uniforms draped over them-- hadn’t been put into their graves yet, but were currently placed in front of the holes, with myriad flowers placed on both by everyone attending, which included all of the X-Men as well as Forge, Evan, Alex, Tabitha, Dorian Leitch and his mother, and Amanda Sefton. Sam’s immediate and extended family which, altogether, made up nearly half of the people in attendance, had also all managed to make the trip up to Bayville on such short notice.

     Xavier looked over all of the people assembled on lawn chairs in front of him from his place in front of the two coffins, next to a podium that had been set up. Leaning next to Storm, who was seated at the piano on the other side of him, he whispered, “Has anyone found X-23 yet? Given her rather unique connection to Logan, I’m… concerned about her.”

     “No, Charles,” Ororo shook her head, “And I don’t think she wants to be found. From what Rogue tells me, the girl has… a problem understanding what all this is about. Kurt and Jean have returned from looking-- I think it’s best we start now.”

     “Alright, then,” Xavier said, moving forward slightly in his wheelchair and clearing his throat, which caused the little talking that had been going on amongst the funeral participants to die down quickly, replaced only with the occasional sniffle.

     “We are all here today because of something I dearly wish would have never happened,” Charles began, raising his voice so that everyone present could hear him clearly. “Two of our X-Men were taken from us in the heat of battle, long before what we believed was their time, long before the natural course of aging would have claimed them. And yet, I must admit that we have been extremely lucky so far. When I founded this Institute, I was under no delusions over what I was getting myself into. I saw that the Mutant population was multiplying exponentially, and that it would be sooner rather than later that the existence of Mutants was made public. I was correct, and given all that’s happened, it’s hard to believe that it’s hardly been more than a year since the horrible Sentinel disaster downtown. The world has certainly changed since then, and it will continue to as humanity comes to terms with our existence.

     “And yet, in the upcoming conflict, I saw hope. Hope that, with a properly trained team of Mutants, each with their own unique abilities, we could learn to use our powers for good, to help bolster humanity towards a new, better future—a future that I still believe is quite possible.

     “But, as I said before, I was under no delusions. I knew that conflicts, trials, and tribulations would come, and they have. And they will continue to. And I knew that some of these conflicts may very well take some of us from this world.

     “However painful these losses may be, though, we must not let them deter us. We often emerge from life’s painful lessons stronger than before, and it is my fervent hope that this will be no different. We will never forget Logan or Sam, or the dedication they each had towards the peaceful co-existence of Mutants and humanity. But we must also not allow their sacrifices to be in vain. We will grieve, but I know that we will also continue on, knowing that the cause we fight for is just, and that yes, it is worth fighting for. It is worth dying for, if it means a better world. And I hope… I hope that no one here ever forgets this—especially the cost of what happens if we do ever lose the belief that some things are worth fighting for.

     “When we came back to this Institute minus two,” Xavier said, wheeling to one side of the podium, “I asked the students if any of them wanted to contribute any thoughts to this funeral service, and indeed many of them have. Though Sam’s eulogy has been written and will be orated by Bobby and Jubilation—and Logan’s eulogy by Kitty and Rogue—all of my students have contributed to these speeches in some small way or another. Bobby, Jubilation… you may come forward.”

     A moment of silence followed as the two addressed teenagers solemnly strode towards the podium, Jubilation taking a piece of paper out of her pocket and unfolding it as both of them turned around and faced the audience in front of them.

     “As most of you know, Sam was one of our best friends,” Jubilation began, a few tears rolling down her cheeks as she started her speech, “In this Mansion full of people who only grew closer to each other as the world pushed us further away, it really said something that me, Bobby, and him were even closer. We did everything together—and yeah, that included some pretty dumb things, too, but within weeks of all enrolling here, we just all seemed to hit it off with each other. We had the same likes, the same interests… and the same attraction to getting into trouble.”

     This comment caused a few of those present to smile sadly or nod their heads in agreement as Bobby took over the eulogy.

     “But, Sam… y’know, I think Sam was still different from me and Jubilee, and in one important way—he was a better person than us. Yeah, he went along with a lot of our stupid ideas—ideas that I have to admit, I usually came up with—but he was always the one who was the most cautious among us. He was always the one who ‘didn’t know about this’ or who thought ‘maybe we should run this by Professor X first’. Of course, we didn’t, and he went along with us, probably more because he felt it was his obligation as our friend more than because he thought it was really okay to do.

     “But,” Bobby continued, taking a quick glance at Jubilation and putting his arm around her before continuing, “I think if anything good came out of this—and I’m ashamed to say that yeah, it took something this big to knock us off our pedestals—it made Jubilee and me realize our own… our own mortality. Just because we have these powers—just because we’ve defeated guys like Magneto and Apocalypse-- doesn’t mean we can’t be hurt, can’t be killed. And I think we both realize now, and I hope all of you do as well, that… yeah, it’s a cliché, but time is… precious. You never know when someone you know is gonna drop, and you oughta… you oughta treasure the time you have with them. Not waste it on stupid adrenaline-boosting stunts or joyrides, or showing off our powers in… admittedly cool ways. And I think… I think that’s something we should also never forget.”

     “Alright, Kitty, Rogue,” Bobby said after a brief pause, stepping away from the podium and gesturing for them to come forward while smiling a little, “You’re up. Just don’t outdo our speech, you got it? …Though that probably won’t be too hard.”

     Rogue smiled sadly as the two pairs of X-Men switched places and Jubilation and Bobby went back to their seats. Kitty, her eyes dripping with tears, attempted to smile a little as Bobby patted her on the shoulder, but her lower lip trembled a little and she bit it instead, stopping the sobbing outburst before it started as she tried her best to clear her throat and begin her and Rogue’s eulogy.

     “When I first joined up at the Institute here, Mr. Logan was hardly somebody I thought I’d be getting close to,” Kitty began, her voice wavering a bit. “He just seemed so… so distant, unwilling to talk to anybody about anything but training exercises or motorcycles. But then came that time me and Kurt accidentally stowed away on the X-Jet when Mr. Logan went to Canada, and, well… for those of you who don’t know the story, let’s just say I saw Mr. Logan in a whole new light after that day. We actually had more in common than I had originally thought—we both really needed some ‘alone time’ once in a while, something that can be a bit of a rarity around here. And that Mr. Logan’s ‘tough guy’ image—well, yeah, he really was mostly that way, but that didn’t mean he didn’t have feelings for others—even for me, someone who had practically no real connection to him at the time. I just… I learned that he had to be that way, after a life like his. Here he was, not knowing—not knowing who—who he really was, or what—what really—what really happened to—“

     Rogue noticed that Kitty was starting to break down in the middle of the eulogy and took over, embracing Kitty’s sobbing form as she continued, a few tears running down her cheeks as well. “I think… we both think that’s the most tragic thing about all this,” she started. “Solely in terms of time, of course, Logan lived a full life. Even though he only looked like he was in his late thirties, the Prof told us he’d been doing things in the Canadian Special Forces since before World War II, which meant Logan must have born in at least the late 1800s, if not even earlier than that. And yet some group of scientists—or government officials, or whatever—decided that his Mutant abilities made him little more than a weapon, and somehow at least half of Logan’s life was erased from his memory. He didn’t know who he really was—who his parents were, where he was born, even his real name—and he died without really… without really getting many of those answers, just cruel hints of what had really occurred. And yet, in spite of all that… he didn’t let it get to him. He kept on looking towards the future, to helping all of us, to try to make the world a better place instead of obsessing on what was wrong in his own life. And that’s… that’s really a quality I—we’ve always admired in Logan… and envied, really.

     “I don’t know whether Logan believed in Heaven, or any kind of afterlife. He never was one to talk about stuff like that. But I hope… I hope wherever he is now—if he is somewhere now—he has his answers. And I also hope that regardless, sometime, somehow—we’ll find the answers that he was looking for, too.”

     “Thank you, both of you,” Xavier said, a few tears of his own falling from his eyes as he motioned for them both to go back to their seats. “Everyone, you’ll find a small notebook under your chairs containing a few hymns that Mrs. Guthrie has selected. Ororo will lead us on the piano-- I encourage you all to sing along as the caskets are lowered into their graves.”

     As Beast and Colossus together hefted Logan’s coffin and carried it over its open grave, Ororo started on the piano as everyone gathered began to sing along with the music.

     “Amazing Grace, how sweet the sound,
     That saved a wretch like me....”

     The singing continued as Hank and Piotr gently set Logan’s coffin into its hole in the ground, and then moved over to do the same with Sam’s casket.

     “T'was Grace that taught...
     my heart to fear.
     And Grace, my fears relieved….”

     Solemnly, Hank and Piotr each took a shovel in their hands and began to move the piles of dirt next to the open graves back on top of the coffins, slowly but surely covering up the X-Men uniforms and flowers covering their surfaces.

     “Through many dangers, toils and snares...
     we have already come.
     T'was Grace that brought us safe thus far...
     and Grace will lead us home….”

     “So, what exactly are they doing with Mayor Kelly?” Evan asked.

     It was a few hours later, and the post-funeral reception was being held in the main entry hall of the Mansion. Most of the people gathered were around in small groups, chatting solemnly amongst themselves, mostly about their memories of Logan and Sam. X-23 was still nowhere to found, however, and as soon as the funeral service had ended Kitty had retreated to her room, emotionally unable to carry on a conversation with anyone at the moment. After both of them had talked to and consoled Sam’s family, Hank and Moonstar had also taken their leave of the reception, heading down to the Mansion’s sublevels to continue the research that they had begun that morning.

     “Nothing of any consequence, at the moment,” Ororo replied. “There’s been a few federal investigations into the manner, but it’s not looking like anything particularly incriminating against him is coming up. More public attention is being paid to where the Sentinels came from—and with Fury stating that S.H.I.E.L.D. was ‘going away’ for a while, I doubt they’ll get their answers anytime soon.”

     “Figures,” Tabitha sneered. “The guy leaves us all to a bunch of giant robots, and gets off scott free, as usual.”

     Amara silently nodded in agreement, but had nothing verbally to add. Ever since she had been hexed by Wanda after the Brotherhood had “officially” returned four months ago, she had suffered severe burns all over her body, as the hexing had caused the fiery aura surrounding her at the time to actually hurt her. It had taken her two full months of treatment to get better, though “better” was a relative term—she was able to move, perform normal tasks, and even fight without feeling pain, but she had been permanently disfigured from the severe burns. The result was an already somewhat shy girl turning ever more inwards. Amara rarely spoke without being spoken to anymore, and she tended to hide whenever guests visited the Institute, ashamed of the way she now appeared.

     “Well, to be honest, I can’t say I blame the authorities,” Xavier admitted. “It appears that, in terms of weighing the total costs and benefits, Mayor Kelly did make the right decision. He chose to save dozens of lives for certain instead of possibly causing even more damage, destruction, and deaths by calling in the military. Clearly no matter what measures Kelly had at his disposal, they wouldn’t have made much of a difference against the Sentinels attacking us. Now, whether his true intentions were more malicious or not, we’ll never know for certain. But I am almost certain that the authorities are going to follow the same train of thought that I have, and acquit Kelly of any charges filed of neglecting his duty as Mayor.”

     “Yeah, well,” Tabitha replied, “Someone still needs to do something about that SOB.”

     “Tabitha…” Xavier warned.

     “What? Never said it’d be me,” Tabitha said, putting on an innocent face before whispering into the glass of water she was holding right before taking a drink, “Never said it wouldn’t be, either…”

     “Well, anyways… I need to get going,” Evan said, glancing at the clock on the wall above the steps. “The Morlocks are going to be paying tribute to Façade in about an hour, so I need to get back there and pay my respects.”

     “What exactly goes on at a Morlock funeral, anyway?” Tabitha asked.

     “Well, obviously it isn’t as fancy as all this,” Evan replied, motioning to his surroundings, “Basically once we’ve all said our goodbyes, we put the body on a makeshift raft—or, in this case, some of Façade’s belongings in place of him—then set the whole raft on fire and let it drift down one of the main sewer pipes. Morlocks die… fairly often down there, due to the living conditions. Since I moved in, we’ve had ten pass away, nearly all of them in the winter.”

     “Ah, I see,” Tabitha said, taking another drink. “So you guys are probably more used to it by now than we are.”

     Evan stiffened, his brows furrowing, and suddenly stormed right up to Tabitha, staring at her eye-to-eye.

     “We never. Ever. Get used to it,” Evan growled, his eyes growing misty as he poked his index finger into Tabitha’s collar bone for emphasis. “EVER. And God help you if you ever do.”

     Completely taken aback, Tabitha was uncharacteristically speechless as Evan abruptly turned and stormed off to the glass entry doors.

     “Evan!” Ororo reprimanded.

     “It needed to be said,” Evan said, sighing as he opened one of the doors. “I’ll… see you around, Auntie O.”

     A few moments of awkward silence followed before Cessily passed by, heading towards a group reminiscing about Sam, and looking even less solid now than she usually did.

     “Ah! Cessily,” Xavier said, gently taking hold of Cessily’s hand as she passed by him. “I need to talk to you for a moment about something. In private. Do you mind if we go up to my office?”

     “Uh… sh-sure,” Cessily replied, a bit confused as Xavier led her to the Institute’s main elevator on the other side of the entry room.

     “Hey,” Amara said, speaking up for the first time in quite a while as she looked around. “Where’s Paige?”

     Paige was still standing in front of Sam’s grave, staring at the mount of fresh dirt that covered up an empty casket symbolizing her older brother’s dead body.

     Not even real remains to bury….

     The sun was starting to set, and the breeze was starting to blow a bit harder as it came in from the bay, the temperature rapidly dropping from warm to moderately cool.

     Paige didn’t notice. Not having particular control over her emotions at the moment, she looked a mess—her arms and legs had shed to reveal clawed appendages made of a wooden substance, and half of her face had shed off to reveal a sickly green, acidic skin underneath. As Paige’s tears hit the ground, half merely splashed against the wet soil, while the other half, coming from the eye on the “acid-skinned” part of her face, sizzled against the soil as they struck it.

     “So is this ‘God’s divine plan’ you were talking about, Sam?” Paige said, finally speaking after spending nearly half an hour staring at her brother’s grave. “You said you didn’t know God’s plan for me, and I can’t say I have any clearer a picture of it, either. But hey, it’s gotta be a good plan, right? I mean, after all, his plan for you was to die needlessly as the result of a failed plan to take down some crazy robot.”

     By now, Paige’s tears were really flowing down her cheeks, her voice wavering, but she continued, her expression continuing to grow more sour as the remaining skin slowly peeled off of her face to reveal more of the acidic skin underneath. “I mean, I guess I could understand it if you made some heroic sacrifice that allowed us all to take down that friggin’ machine once and for all. But no, you had to die because of a mistake. And there’s no doubt in my mind that you were in a lot of… a lot of pain in the last few moments before you died.”

     Abruptly turning her head skyward, Paige yelled, “So is this your ‘Divine Plan’, God? To take the brother I was closest to away from me just as I joined this ‘Institute for Gifted Youngsters’?! To have him literally explode in some stupidly-named robot’s hands, right in front of my eyes? Huh?! Was that your plan!? IS THIS YOUR WONDERFUL, ALL-KNOWING, FRICKING PERFECT PLAN?!”

     Paige waited for nearly a minute, staring up to the sky, acidic tears continuing to pour down from her face. Only a stiff breeze answered her.

     “That’s what I thought,” Husk said softly, lowering her head and slowly making her way away from the graves back towards the front entrance to the Institute.

     “So… what is it, P-professor?” Cessily asked as she closed the door behind them.

     “Cessily, I couldn’t help but notice that earlier, during the battle with Nimrod, for a brief moment, you—your form was completely solid. A blade you formed with your arm was hard enough to cut through even Nimrod’s thick armor, a very impressive feat. Without your and Paige’s efforts, we may never have brought down Nimrod. I just wanted to personally thank you for your efforts the other day. You don’t know how proud we all are of you.”

     “U-uh… thanks… I g-guess…” Cessily said, her gaze shifting towards the floor.

     “What I also called you in here for, Cessily, is to ask you something,” Xavier continued. “What changed? After countless training sessions, we’ve been unable to get you to make yourself completely solid, yet unbidden you were able to do it yourself in the heat of such a stressful battle. How did you accomplish this feat?”

     “I….I don’t know,” Cessily said, her gaze still not lifting from the floor. “I th-think…. I th-think that was exactly it. S-seeing Logan and Sam die, the c-chaos around me, it just… n-nothing else mattered to me, right th-then, compared to taking d-down Nimrod. I didn’t even think a-about it, it just… happened.”

     “I think I understand where you’re coming from, Cessily,” Xavier replied, his hands steepled in front of him. “Often, during extreme moments of peril, something inside us—all of us—tends to click. We focus on nothing else than our goal, and I am fairly certain that is what happened to you. This is certainly good news, though—it shows that you CAN make yourself completely solid, and without even devoting a lot of mental effort to it. You don’t need to live your entire life like this, keeping a part of the back of your mind devoted to retaining your form constantly, all day, every day. There is a way around this.”

     “Well, I g-guess so,” Cessily admitted, “B-but I don’t really want something like th-this to h-happen again just so that I c-can—“

     “I’m not saying that it needs to,” Xavier said, shaking his head. “We’re just going to need to really focus on your training in particular in the upcoming months, Cessily. We’re going to find that trigger, that trigger that makes you focus on your goal, not on always your retaining your solidity, and then once we make that trigger routine enough we’ll have it. You’ll no longer have to continually focus on keeping yourself relatively solid—it will be automatic.”

     “Well, I certainly h-hope so,” Cessily said, smiling a little as she scratched the back of her head, “But I still d-don’t know—“

     *knock knock knock*

     Xavier held up a hand for a moment to silence Cessily as he called out, “Yes? Who is it?”

     Kitty poked her head through the door, quite literally.

     “Oh, sorry. I didn’t know you already had someone in here, Professor. I’ll come back—“

     “No, no, don’t worry about it, Kitty,” Xavier replied. “Cessily and I were just finishing up. Cessily, you can rejoin the reception downstairs if you want. We’ll talk more about this later.”

     “Oh-okay,” Cessily said, smiling sadly as she opened the door and slowly left the room as Kitty phased through the other, closed door and into the office, shutting the open door as Cessily left.

     “Kitty, you’re looking a little better,” Xavier said, smiling. Kitty did indeed look like she was more in control of her emotions again, though her eyes and face were still fairly red. “Now, what was it you wanted to talk to me about?”

     “First….” Kitty paused, unsure of how she wanted to word what she was about to say. “…First, you have to promise not to tell anyone else yet, okay? ‘Cause I’m not sure if I’m… going to go through with this yet.”

     “Very well,” Xavier replied. “Consider it confidential. Now, what do you need?”

     “Professor, I’m just…. I’m not sure if I can... if I can do this again.”

     “Kitty…” Xavier said, his expression instantly changing to one of concern. “What are you saying?”

     “This,” Kitty said, throwing her arms up in frustration as her eyes started to cloud up again. “All of this. Burying… burying my friends.”

     “Kitty,” Xavier sighed. “Burying a friend is… never easy. Much less two. But death is a natural part of life. Surely you can’t expect all of us to live forever.”

     “No… no, I know that,” Kitty said, her gaze turning towards the floor. “And I… I don’t know, I guess I was just kidding myself this whole time. It’s just… we’ve been through so many battles, y’know? And even when things looked really bad, we pulled out of it. But burying someone when they die of old age—even burying a relative—it’s just….it’s not the same as this. Not for me. I’ve lived with these people for a few years now, put my life in their hands, and visa versa. And if this sorta stuff happens again… which, really, we don’t have any real reason to, like, expect it NOT to…. I just… I don’t think I can handle something like this a second time. For the longest time, I thought that maybe… maybe this was the life for me. Being a part of the X-Men. But now… I dunno.”

     “So… you’re thinking of leaving us, then,” Xavier replied sadly.

     “Yeah…. Maybe. Again, I dunno,” Kitty wavered. “The last school day before Spring Break, I met with my advisor, and she told me that by the end of the school year, I’d have enough credits to… to graduate. I just didn’t get a chance to tell you until now because of… y’know…”

     “A year early? That’s quite impressive, Kitty. You should be very proud—that’s something very few students can accomplish.”

     “Yeah,” Kitty said, her eyes still not leaving the floor. “And I’m thinking…. I’m thinking maybe after I graduate, I’ll leave the Institute then. Y’know, look around for a good Jewish University near home, somewhere around Illinois, hopefully.”

     “Have you discussed this with your parents yet?” Xavier asked.

     “No,” Kitty replied. “I mean… like I said, I’m still… not sure about this yet. I’ll see. It’s just something I’ve been… thinking about a lot these past few days.”

     “Well,” Xavier replied, “It is, of course, your choice, Kitty. If you decide to leave, though, you will be missed. Not only are you a valuable asset to the X-Men, but a wonderful person, as well.”

     “Thanks,” Kitty said, smiling sadly as a few tears started to flow down her cheeks again. “Like I said, I haven’t… haven’t decided yet, but… I think I’m leaning towards it. I just wanted….wanted to tell you first, in case I do definitely decide I want to do this and not just spring it on you last minute or anything.”

     “I understand, Kitty,” Xavier said, wheeling over to his student and putting a hand on her shoulder.

     “If I do leave, I’ll still… keep in touch,” Kitty sobbed, hugging Xavier, tears starting to come down her face more regularly. “I’ll still call you guys…. See how everything is going… it’s just…. this… this isn’t fair, Professor…. This isn’t fair….”

     “I know, Kitty,” Xavier said sadly. “I know.”

     “So, is that your new uniform?” Hank said, pointing at the costume that Moonstar was finishing the last few stitches on.

     “Yeah,” Danielle said. “It’s not much, just a few things sewn on the front of my old one. Just…. y’know, something to keep me busy these past few days.”

     “Well, you are an ‘official’ X-Man now,” Hank said. “Let’s see it.”

     “Yeah…. But I would rather have stayed a New Recruit forever than become an X-Man because of all… this…,” Moonstar said sadly as she finished her current stitch and then held the uniform out in front of her for Hank to see. Indeed, most of it was the same, except for a few symbols on the chest. Now a medium-sized yellowish-white orb occupied the center of the uniform, with a traditional star symbol in the middle of the orb that was the same dark blue as most of the rest of the uniform. In addition, two teardrop shapes, in the same yellowish-white color, “dripped” off of the left side of the moon.

     “Ah… Moon…star… quite creative,” Hank said. “I assume the two teardrops are for Sam and Logan?”

     “Hrm. So much for subtle symbolism,” Moonstar replied, folding her uniform back up.

     “No, really, I like it. It’s better than Bobby’s over-the-top uniform, that’s for sure,” Hank grinned. Glancing over to the computer screen in front of him, he looked back at Moonstar and continued, “Alright, the computer’s finished analyzing your MRIs. Check this out.”

     Hank turned the computer monitor around so that Moonstar could see it from her position on the other side of the desk in the Institute’s medlab.

     “This is an MRI of your brain that we took soon after you enrolled here at the Institute,” Hank said, pointing towards the brain scan on the left side of the screen.

     “And over here is the MRI we just took a half hour ago,” Hank finished, pointing towards the brain scan on the screen’s right side.

     “I’m not seeing any…. Oh,” Moonstar said, finally realizing the difference between the two pictures. “What is that thing?” she continued, pointing towards a somewhat small dark spot near the bottom of her brain that was only on the MRI scan on the right side of the screen.

     “The computer reads it, surprisingly enough, as being made mostly of… metal,” Hank said. “An organic variant of silicon, to precise.”

     “So…. Wait… I’m part computer now?!” Moonstar said in disbelief.

     “Well, in simplified terms, yes,” Hank said, turning the monitor back around so that it was facing him. “It certainly explains why you have no problem ‘reading binary’, or breaking through encryption codes. This small part of your brain actually functions like a highly advanced computer chip, if it were in a partially organic form. But it interacts with the rest of your brain just fine. In fact, given that this part of your brain is right behind your left eye, I’d say that this electronic part of your brain is what’s responsible for your eye constantly emitting that beam of light.”

     “But… how?” Moonstar asked, bewildered.

     “Well, from what I can figure,” Hank began, “And from what the computer’s analysis here indicates, creating illusions of people’s greatest fears is not technically your Mutant power. It’s more a symptom of it than anything else—and it’s the same thing with your hibernation ability, as well, and now your ability to crack computer code. Your actual power is that your brain will, in fact, adapt itself structurally to best suit the current situation you’re in. In most cases, this involves what we’ve traditionally thought your Mutant power to be—you find yourself threatened by someone, so your brain adapts on the fly, connects with your enemy’s mind, finds his or her greatest fear, and brings it to life, in a sense. This also explains how you can do this without even willing it, sometimes—your brain, if you’ll pardon the expression, does all the thinking for you. It also explains your hibernation ability, which we couldn’t really figure out until now because it seemingly had no connection to your psychic ability—when you found yourself trapped in that cave for an extended period of time without any real source of food and a limited supply of water, your brain realized that a lack of nourishment was your primary ‘enemy’ at the moment, and so adapted its structure to take up as little energy as possible while still keeping your necessary bodily functions going.”

     “So… does this mean I might have even more Mutant abilities? It just depends on what situation I’m in?” Moonstar asked, still stunned over Hank’s explanation.

     “It certainly is possible,” Hank said, “But expanding it beyond what you’ve got now would certainly take some very unusual circumstances. Remember, you weren’t able to read Nimrod’s ‘mind’ all by yourself—you required four other psychics backing you up in order to accomplish that, and help adapt your brain to interface with binary code. Your brain can accomplish small changes in its structure—such as when you interface with others’ minds—but changing to suit an entirely different kind of mind? That required a lot of external help.”

     “Oookay,” Moonstar said, rubbing her upper arms, “I’m officially freaked out now. I think… I think I’m going to go back upstairs to the reception.”

     “Feel free to,” Hank said, focusing on the computer screen in front of him, “I’ve got enough data from these MRIs to keep me busy for weeks. Thanks a lot for your help, Danielle—not only have you helped us understand your powers considerably better, but this will also help us tailor your training sessions to better suit and strengthen your control over your powers.”

     Rogue winced as another muffled ripping sound came from the room she had been walking towards, followed by the sound of something wooden smashing against a wall.

     She had gone upstairs to get a picture of her and Sam to show Mrs. Guthrie when she had heard the sounds coming from a room on the way to hers…. Logan’s old room.

     Rogue was just about to open the door when two metal claws punctured the wood near the top, causing her to step back reflexively as the claws easily swept downwards, nearly ripping the door in half before they retracted again, and other crashing sounds soon came from other parts of the room.

     Yeah, it’s definitely X-23 in there… Rogue thought to herself as she took a deep breath and abruptly opened the door. X-23 was standing on the other end of the room, her back to Rogue, breathing heavily from exhaustion. As Rogue expected, nearly everything in the room either had claw marks on it or was at least scraped from being thrown around the room. What particularly disturbed her, though, was that X-23 was in the same condition—there were self-inflicted claw marks and wounds all over her body, though as expected they were all quickly healing.

     “What is it, Rogue?” X-23 said without turning around. “I am….occupied.”

     “Why are you doing this?” Rogue said, walking into the room and closing the shredded door softly behind her. “Look, I know you’re hurting—we all are—but just destroying random stuff isn’t going to do anything but—“

     “I looked it up, you know,” X-23 interrupted, sheathing her claws, though her back was still turned towards Rogue. “On the Internet. While you all were out there at the funeral.”

     “Looked what up?” Rogue asked, confused.

     “What we were talking about!” X-23 said, turning around, exasperated. Rogue noticed the girl had a few tears clouding up her vision, but otherwise had the same expression she always had on—one of anger and impatience. “This ‘God’. Religion. Did you know that there are a lot of them? Christianity. Judaism. Islam. Buddhism. Hinduism… and those were just the ones that came up at the top of the search.”

     “Yes…” Rogue said, not sure where the girl was going with this. “But I thought you said that you didn’t—“

     “I didn’t. I still don’t,” X-23 said. “They all are based on a bunch of old books written by a bunch of idealists a long, long time ago. And all these people… all these people in the world just believe them based on… on faith.”

     X-23 spat out the last word like it was a bug that had accidentally flown into her mouth.

     “Uh… well, some believe on them based on a little more than that,” Rogue said, looking down towards the floor, “Personal experiences, what their Holy Book says… I dunno. But like I said, I’m not the one you should be talking to about—“

     “But even though I saw differences—countless differences—between all the religions I looked at, there was one thing they had in common,” X-23 continued, as if Rogue had never replied. “A belief in… some sort of life beyond this one. A plane of existence—either literal or metaphorical—above this one. Beyond this existence. Better than this existence.”

     “But if you don’t believe in any of it, then why are you—“

     Rogue gasped as, quick as lightning, X-23 unsheathed her claws again and leapt at Rogue. Rogue didn’t even have time to attempt to dodge the girl as X-23 flew across the room at her, pinning her against the wall with all four of her clawed appendages attaching the young clone to the wall against Rogue.

     “Shut up and listen,” X-23 growled, her face mere inches from Rogue’s.

     Rogue just nodded silently, her eyes wide.

     “All of the religions I looked at talk about some sort of… essence. An essence that isn’t physical, but… spiritual. That we’re all born with one. But I wasn’t born. I was created. In a lab. In a test tube. So answer me something. Do I have… a soul? If this… this Heaven… is real…. Can I get into it?”

     “X-23,” Rogue responded, “I don’t—“

     “DO. I. HAVE. A. SOUL,” X-23 growled, tears streaming down her face.

     “Yes,” Rogue said, “I mean, no—I mean, I don’t--- look, I’m really not the one you should be talking to about---“

     Wordlessly, X-23 pressed her forehead against Rogue’s. Both grunted as Rogue’s powers took effect, and a few seconds later X-23 fell to the floor, unconscious.

     It took Rogue a few seconds, but she soon slid to the floor as well, her eyes welling up with tears.

     These memories…. Oh, God… these horrible, horrible memories. How could anyone do this to you? All Logan had told us about you were that you were a modified clone of him, that was all… How could anyone be this….. this completely evil?

     Getting a hold of herself after the sudden influx of memories, Rogue stood back up, looking down at X-23’s unconscious form, sorted out what had just been poured into her head.

     So this is why you were so obsessed with this. Your life has been one sort of hell after another up until a short time ago, and you wanted to know if there was any kind of relief. And, even though you were skeptical, you finally—FINALLY—found an answer that just might have proven true. That eventually, you would get your paradise. According to some religions, you would have to work at it, but you could have gotten there. But you were so close, only to read that you needed to be human—to have a soul—to get in. And now you’re not even sure if you have that.

     Rogue slowly and solemnly stepped over X-23, opened the door, and walked back into the hallway. Shutting the door again softly and turning around, she stifled a gasp as she nearly bumped into Scott.

     “Scott!” Rogue cried out in surprise. “Uh… what are you doing here?”

     “What am I doing here!?” Scott said. “I heard a bunch of crashes, and X-23 YELLING at you from in there! I’ve got to tell the Professor about this. I mean, I understand her frustration over everything, but she can’t just go around threatening—“

     “No, Scott,” Rogue said, turning away from her fellow X-Man and slowly walking further down the hall, headed towards her room. “Just… just leave her alone. She’s unconscious now, she won’t do any more damage. And the cost of repairing what she’s damaged in that room is just a drop in the bucket compared to what it’ll take to repair the landscaping around here. This is just… this is just the only way she knows how to deal with things. And… given her situation… I don’t know if I can blame her for that.”

I gave my life away
There’s nothing left to say
I gave my life away
You take it in your way
-“Hang On,” Seether
 

The End
 

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