Warnings: Disturbing discussion of sex, willing and otherwise

Notes from Min:  David gave me Ororo.  I love him. :-)  It's a nice long one, too.

Notes from David: This is an entry in the "Golden Goose" round robin started by the lovely and talented Minisinoo. This happens after Mara Greengrass' "A Bird in the Hand" entry, and either after or during Dyce's "What's Good for the Goose is Good for the Gander."  I'm not exactly sure where that takes place.  But in reference to the Ultimate X-Men comic, "Of a Feather" happens at the end of #9, just before Cyclops, Storm, Jean, and Nightcrawler embark on the Weapon X mission..

This is supposed to be a jetpack?  It looks like a football-sized birth-control pill, for pete's sake!  I voice as much to my teammates, Cyclops, Jean (I can't bring myself to call her "Marvel Girl"), and . . . Nightcrawler, I think his name is.  Jean told me his real name, but I forgot it.  He's the dark-skinned German kid with a tail who speaks no English.

Yeah, my brain's going on high-speed tangents so I don't have to focus on what what we're getting ready for, and who we're working for.

Jean laughs, enjoying my birth control pill comment.  I expect Cyclops to laugh too, since he enjoys that kind of humor, but he doesn't.  In fact, he doesn't say anything, and his silence is deafening.  He just waits patiently for a nameless Weapon X goon to place the jetpack pill on the back of his uniform, and tell him that the activator button is on his belt.

"Yeah, I know already, dammit," he snaps back at the guy.  One thing you refrain from doing is telling Scott his business.  But mixed in with Scott's lack of patience with flunkies is something else.  I've seen that look on his face before.  He's distracted by something.  In fact, he has been ever since Henry was dragged back to his cell with his new blue makeover.  That alone is enough to rattle Scott's cage like a rabid chimp.

So why is it that I can't help but think something else happened?

With this soldier thing, it's a lot of hurry-up-and-wait.  It doesn't take long for us to get ready, so the rest of our flight to India is spent either going over the tiny details of the mission, or making small talk amongst ourselves.

So what's the mission?  I'm not too clear, myself.  From what I understand, half the team has to storm some compound and stop some mad scientist's doomsday weapon, while the others have to bail out some muckity-muck SHIELD agent who got his sorry ass captured by . . . hell, I don't know by who, really.  The Weapon X people keep dancing around the issue.  Apparently, it's need-to-know, and only Scott, Jean, and Nightcrawler need to know.  Me?  I'm just a black chick with white hair and an in-demand bod.  Everybody figures I'm not smart enough to understand any of this.  The only reason I don't is because whenever Wraith or his people explain stuff to me, they use military jargon or they talk to me like I'm in first grade.  So they either talk over my head or insult my intelligence.  Did I mention I hate this place?

So I decide to play up my image and study my nails.  Really, I'm listening to the conversations around me, trying to pick up what I can.  I've been stealing shit for as long as I can remember, so being sneaky and observant are things I'm good at.  I still don't learn much about the mission, but I do learn loads about the people around me.

Two of the soldiers are trying to decide which X-Girl they'd like to get in bed first:  me or Jean.  They don't even have to say it out loud; it's obvious on their faces.  But they're saying it out loud anyway.  Note to self.  Castrate the first fucker who tries anything.

Sabretooth (hate him, hate him, hate him!) paces around like Big Bulldog on Campus.  He alternates between discussing strategy with Scott (and dismissing everything Scott says, 'cause he thinks the X-Men's Fearless Leader doesn't know shit), and telling dirty jokes to make it look like we're all friends.  And they're bad dirty jokes.  Hell, six of them I've heard before, and the two I haven't are so completely predictable I could have finished it for him, and told it better.

All this talking and nobody's saying anything important.  What's important?  Scott's even more miserable than usual, as if guilty.  Jean's carrying on a convo with Nightcrawler in perfect German.  I think she taught herself that telepathically.  Nightcrawler even seems happy to talk to her.  He's smiling, and what's this?  Yet another guy to fall for the X-Men's resident redhead.  Are only women immune to her, or what?

Yeah, I have issues with Jean.  Doesn't everybody?  It's not important right now, anyway.

One interesting thing is the competition between Cyclops and Sabretooth.  Alpha Male competition at its best.  I'm not entirely sure, but it kind of looks like Sabretooth is scared of Cyke.  Seriously!  He hides it well, but I've been in gangs, and I've seen guys stare look down the barrels of guns and about piss themselves, but look for all the world like they're the biggest badasses in history.  Hell, I hold a black belt in that discipline.  It's funny to watch Sabretooth keep his distance from Scott.  I think that time the two of them trained together, and Scott blasted Sabretooth hard enough that his healing factor didn't work for a full day, must've put some kind of respect into the hairy guy.

Go Cyclops.  Get that bitch.  He deserves it.

I continue to study my nails, and observe the other people, but somehow I soon realize that Cyclops is missing.  He must have left as soon as the tactical debate was over.  I do some looking around and find him in the cargo bay, pretending to check over the weapons and inventory.  But despite what he tells me about making sure everything's ready, I don't buy it for a second.  I know something's up.

"Come on, Scott," I reply, "you really don't give a shit about the inventory, and I know you don't want this to be a success.  We're gonna have to kill people here."

He stares at me through his visor.  A lens of ruby quartz keeps me from feeling the energy beams his eyes would otherwise put out, but it doesn't matter.  Even when they're covered, Cyclops' eyes are piercing.  "You know better than that, Storm," he replies.  "I hate this damn mission we're on, but that doesn't mean I don't care about my team.  I'm making sure everything runs smoothly so we stay alive.  That's always been my concern.  You know that."

"Okay, okay, chill, sorry . . . damn . . . ."  We're silent for a minute. He's pissed, but I try to talk to him anyway.  "So why're you really down here?"

"To get away from Weapon X people before they really piss me off.  Right now, I'm almost convinced that opening my eyes without my visor is a good idea, just to see how many of them I can hit."

"You won't, because you'll hit X-Men, too."

His voice is impatient.  "I know that, Storm.  I said I was tempted."  The tone is the one he uses when he wants someone to leave the room.

I decide to change the subject.  "So, what do you think of that scary little mad scientist they have . . . what's his name?  With the creepy voice."

"Essex."  It's amazing how Scott can make that sound like he just barked a two-syllable word.

"Yeah, him.  I hate him.  I mean, god, his checkups are sheer hell, he acts like you're a pile of DNA, not a living breathing mutant, did I mention his voice --"

"He arranges fucks with clones."

"Right.  And he--"  I stop cold.  "What?"

"You heard me."

I sigh in frustration and fold my arms.  "Yeah, I did, but what you said made absolutely no sense."

"There's this one girl named Madelyne Pryor.  Her cell is separated from the rest of us, because her singular use to Weapon X is to get pregnant and have kids that they can use."

"Uh, I think I remember hearing about her.  Not much, though . . . ."

"I met her.  She's Jean's clone, from what I understand."

It takes me a few seconds to absorb this.  I mean, I can't tell what's stranger:  what Cyclops is saying, or that he's saying it like it's common knowledge to everybody.  "Her clone?  Jean's?  How'd that happen?"

Cyclops explosively uncrosses his own arms, and gestures with them. "Dammit, I don't know!  I mean . . . nobody let me in on that part.  I've been trying to figure that out since I met her."

"Oh, sorry . . . ."  He always makes me sorry I asked a question.  "You had sex with her?"

There's that stare again.

I try to rephrase my question, so he doesn't decide to shoot me.  "Bad choice of words.  But you said Essex arranges fucks.  So did you and she . . . ?"

"Yeah, we did.  I really didn't have much choice in the matter.  Well, I did, but then they'd have picked another way to get her pregnant that wouldn't have been as pleasant.  So, yeah, we fucked."

"But she's Jean's clone."

"Didn't we just establish that?"

I throw my arms up in frustration.  Scott can be so damn infuriating.  This is what I get for being Ororo the Shrink.  That should be Jean's job, not mine.  In fact, why isn't she down here?

Scott's voice breaks through our silence, which surprises me.  "Yeah, she's Jean's clone, and I fucked her.  That has to rank in the top ten worst experiences of my life."

I'm glad I wasn't drinking anything, because I would have squirted it out my nose.  "Wha . . . ?  Did I miss something?  How is getting your freak on with a girl you've wanted to do since forever count as a bad experience?  Was it bad sex or what?"

Okay, for the record, I knew that question would piss him off, but what can I say?  When he's mad, sometimes he clams up completely, and sometimes he actually says what's on his mind.  And he's not clamming up this time.  "No, it weasn't bad sex.  That has nothing to do with it.  And I didn't fuck Jean.  That was her body, but it wasn't her.  She didn't smell the same, act the same, and her hair was even longer.  They chopped it off to make Pryor look more like Jean, but it was still a bad likeness.  No body piercing, either.  And this one has been pregnant, so their bodies were a bit different."

"Not String-Bean Jean?"

"No, not . . . ."  He tries to finish his sentence, but then he starts laughing.  Hard.  Houston, I think I finally broke through his shell.  And I thought for sure my birth control pill joke would have done that.  "Not a string bean at all.  She wasn't fat or anything, but I could tell the difference."

"Yeah, somebody who's spent as much time checking Jean out as you have, should know her body better than Wolverine."

Bad choice of words, Ororo.  Again.  I hate it when he stares at me.

"Sorry, Cyclops."

"Scott."

"You're in uniform."

"Yeah, I know.  Scott anyway.  For now."

"Okay.  So . . . what was it like with her?  It couldn't have been that bad."

"It pointed out to me how much experience I still don't have in that department.  Okay, get that smirk off your face."

Great, he made me blush.  Bastard.  "What, I'm not allowed to wonder what kind of sex life the Fearless Leader's had?"

"No."

"Too bad.  I'm picturing back seat fumblings, lots of groping and 'oh Scott', and -- "

He whips his body around toward the exit and starts walking away.  "Shut the fuck up.  You're trying to cheer me up, but it isn't working."

"Because you take everything so damn personally, that's why!" I shout back.

"You want to know what the extent of my experience was before Pryor?  Wanda."

Again, he's acting like that name should ring a bell.  "And Wanda is . . . ?"

He turns back to face me, but stays where he's at, with most of the room between us.  "Scarlet Witch?  Y'know, Magneto's daughter?"

Big grin from me.  "No shit?  I mean, you're gonna have to 'scuse me, but DAAAAAAMN, boy!  You got the Big M's little girl?  That black-haired chick?"

I can just about see him roll his eyes behind his eyewear.  "Yeah, her."

"You go boy.  Did her daddy find out?"

"I don't know.  I don't know how to read him on that issue.  I get the feeling if he did find out I was banging his daughter, I'd have returned from the Savage Land with a lead pipe shoved up to my lower intestine."  He waits for me to stop laughing, then continues.  "As far as he knew, Scarlet Witch was flirting with me."

"Can I guess here?  You were still pissed off at Jean, so you let Wanda in your bed."

"Something like that.  It only made things worse."

I ask the next logical question.  I can't help it; I'm curious.  As far as I know, Scott hasn't even revealed who he's been with to the guys, and males are supposed to brag.  "Does Jean know about this?"

I'm treated to one of Scott's rare smiles.  It's a revenge-smile, though.  "I mentioned it to her in passing one time.  She threw one of her CDs at me.  She missed."

Okay, so Scott's being open, and he's smiling.  Good.  Now he'll be bearable to us underlings when we're on the mission.  Now for another dangerous question:  "So . . . this means you're going to be a daddy?"

Dead silence from Scott.  I get the distinct feeling that he was hoping I wouldn't ask that.  "Yeah, I believe that's the plan," he finally tells me, his voice hard.  Once again I touched a nerve.

"And . . . how do you feel about that?"  I'm not going to like the answer; I can tell.

"How do you think I feel?  How am I supposed to feel?  I'm pissed-off and completely powerless about it, dammit!  I mean . . . ."  He's fumbling for words, he's so mad.  "I mean, they arrange for me to breed with some girl I'd never even met, though she happens to look just like Jean, and then they're going to raise the kid as a weapon!  This is wrong on so many levels I don't even know where to begin!  One thing I will do, though, once we get free of Weapon X, is make sure all the babies that have been conceived because of this are safe and away from them as well.  Nobody should live like this."  Somewhere in this speech, I get the feeling that Scott has serious issues about parenthood.  I decide not to ask.

"Hey, I'm all for it," I tell him, trying to get him off the soapbox.  "Well, we're probably getting close to India, so . . . we should get back to the others?"

He nods and I walk with him to the exit.  Then he asks a question that causes me to forget where I parked my stomach:  "So, are you and Henry okay?"

I wheel around to face him.  "What?"

"I heard the two of you arguing last night.  Well, you were whispering, but I could hear it."

"Oh, yeah, we're fine.  Really."

He waits patiently.

"I'm going to have to tell you about my sex life, ain't I?"

"I told you about mine," Cyclops reminds me.

"Too bad.  I'm not going there."

He taps his feet.  "Okay, whatever.  Your choice."

More silence between us.  Hell, you could park a Sentinel on the tension.  Does it really take this much pressure to get either of us to fess up to anything?  God, we really are alike.

I look at the floor.  "All right.  He was upset over being blue.  He thought he was a complete monster.  I mean, he didn't have the best self esteem before they experimented on him, but now --"

"He thought you didn't want him."

"Goddamn!  How much did you hear?"

"Actually not much, but I could figure it out."

I start walking away from Scott, pacing a bit, before I give up and sit on a crate.  "Yeah, he thought I didn't want him.  I don't know what gave him that idea, 'cause I sure as hell spend enough time trying to convince him on a regular basis that he's not the Elephant Man."

"Sounds like he's scared of you."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

Looks like it's Scott's turn to put his foot in his mouth.  "I mean, he's afraid of rejection.  Of you not liking him.  So he puts you on a pedestal."

"And you don't do that with Jean?"

"Now wait a minute . . . ."

I hop off the crate.  "Forget it.  I like Hank; he's a great guy and all that.  Best boyfriend I've had, really."

"But."

"But.  The boy genius can't get it through his thick head that I'm not interested in looks.  We haven't had sex yet, Scott, but . . . hell, I don't know if that would fix the problem or not.  It probably wouldn't."

"Any idea why not?"

"Might have something to do with the fact that I've been forced to cheat on him the whole time we've been in Weapon X."  I take a breath.  "No, it's not like you're probably thinking.  Only Sabretooth.  He doesn't let anyone else near me."

Cyclops looks shocked, but not really.  I mean, it's not exactly a secret.  He doesn't say anything.

"I mean, Henry understands that I didn't have a choice.  He does.  I mean, if you're a mutant with two X-chromosomes, you've gotta be their bitch.  But . . . hell, I don't know.  I guess understanding it and coming to terms with it are two different things."

"He sees you as something that's been taken away from him."

"Yeah.  Pretty much.  He's so pissed at them, but the only one he can release his anger on is me."

He lets in a breath.  "He hasn't hurt you or . . . ?"

"Oh, no, nothing like that.  He's just hard to reason with when he's that mad.  I get scared of him when he's like that, because he's not the same Henry.  Weapon X has been doing a good job on him, Scott.  All he thinks about is getting them back for what they did to him . . . and . . . he's just not the same Henry."

Scott puts a hand on my shoulder.  He doesn't seem sure if this is the right reaction, but it is.  "We'll get our chance to pay these assholes back," he tells me, in full Cyclops mode.  "Now let's get back to the others."

I nod and wipe my face.  I bet I look like I'm about to cry.  He just smiles and shrugs, a gesture that's so completely unlike our Fearless Leader that I feel much better, and we leave the cargo bay.  You'd think we were buddies or something.  We're certainly birds of a feather, but that's gotta be one weird-ass feather.

"Time to tear Weapon X a new ass again," I mention to Cyclops, reciting our now-famous running joke.  We X-Men tell each other that in the morning.  It makes our days a little more bearable, and we're looking forward to the opportunity when we can actually do the tearing.

"After you, milady."

"Damn, you just held the door for me like a gentleman.  You sure you're not Scott's clone?"

"Oh, shut up."

Go on to Dyce's "What's Good for the Goose is Good for the Gander"
 

Return to the Comicverse Menu
Return to the Main Fanfic Menu