by Mara

Summary: “She has a lot to think about, and her mind won’t stop spinning.”

NOTES: This was written for the “We Invented the Remix…Redux” challenge, in
which I remixed bounce’s “An Impossibility”, which can be found on her site at
her site. As with bounce’s original, this story takes place around New X-Men
126(ish), basically the end of the “Imperial” storyline. Gigantic thanks to the
fantabulous Victoria P. for organizing the challenge.

* * * * *

She should be sleeping.

Jean glares at the clock as it registers 4:59 AM. She’s been awake much of the
night, and now the minutes seem to be passing even more slowly.

She has a lot to think about, and her mind won’t stop spinning. So much has
happened.

She did the impossible a week ago. But then again, she and Scott are X-Men: they
do six impossible things before breakfast…and that’s on a slow day. She should
be used to snatching victory from the jaws of defeat, as well as the other way
around. She should be used to the impossible. After all, just months before, the
man lying next to her died.

A small sigh from Scott catches her attention, and she carefully rolls over to
watch him sleep. She should be ecstatic to see him lying beside her, breathing
and alive, but her ambivalence is a cold knot around her heart, tightening
imperceptibly with every passing day.

He’s back. Except that he’s not. Not really. The figure in bed beside her wears
Scott’s face, laughs his laugh, has the same freckles in places she won’t
describe, makes the same mess when he tries to twirl pasta on his fork–but
somehow it’s not him.

It’s as if he’s only Scott skin deep, and beneath that is cold and emptiness.

Jean knows that she could make it better. The Phoenix energy within her would
make it so easy, she could just reach in and tweak a bit here, twist a little
there, take away all the bad memories and thoughts and everything would seem
right as rain. Except that nobody would ever trust her again, they’d hate her.
Especially Scott.

To distract herself, she reaches out to the other minds in the mansion.

The Professor is walking the halls, astonished and happy to be back in his home
with legs healed and working, but he is crippled by the guilt of the past days’
(could it be only days?) events. The idea that he tried to kill his sister while
they were still in the womb is practically inconceivable, and his mind is
twisting in an attempt to encompass the enormity of his crime.

He doesn’t even realize she is in his mind. Disturbed by this fact and faintly
guilty, she slips away again.

Skipping gently across the minds of several students–one dreaming about sex,
one about her parents’ divorce, and one having a nightmare about missing an
exam–she alights on Emma’s mind. A butterfly touch and she is nearly blown away
by the pain and grief, a hammer blow to her mind.

The blow isn’t even aimed at her, just at the world in general, but Jean reels
back, afraid to get any nearer to Emma as the other woman remembers all the dead
of Genosha.

She pulls away, unwilling to intrude on a grief more profound than hers.

Barnell is half-asleep, in that state where your mind conjures images and
partial dreams. Cassandra Nova looms like a funhouse clown over his head as he
cowers and begs her to stop.

Jean feels tears running down her cheek as the dream Barnell beats Hank over and
over again, until there isn’t an inch of him uninjured. Barnell sobs as he
pounds away, guilty even though he couldn’t have prevented what happened.

Her leap away from Barnell’s guilt sends her plowing into the edges of Xorn’s
mind and she recoils from the power, the inferno that is the only person whose
mental powers rival hers at the moment. The Phoenix stirs in the back of her
mind, restless, eager to challenge Xorn, see who’s stronger, but she pushes it
down.

She draws back into her own mind, saddened by the realization that there isn’t
anyone in the mansion who isn’t hurting, isn’t damaged in one way or another.
Years ago, she learned how to block it out, how to ignore the pain around her,
but those walls are breached and crumbling under the onslaught.

It’s harder tonight than is normal, because a week ago she did the impossible.
She split Xavier’s mind into a thousand, thousand pieces, and stuck them back
together again. It should have been impossible, but she did it. She did it.

She rolls back to face the clock and it ticks away a few more seconds, a few
seconds closer to time for her to get up and move on as if everything were
normal. Closer to pretending everything is fine.

Still sleeping, Scott rolls closer to her.

Jean cries and tries to ignore the feel of a dead man’s breath on her skin.

* * * * *

Remixer’s end notes: I specifically chose to keep bounce’s first and last lines
intact as a frame to my remix, and I hope I kept the spirit of what she was
trying to convey about Jean at this point in her life.

by Mara

Summary: Bobby finds out about Emma and Scott. (This is an AU of New X-Men 139, “Shattered,” the first part to the Murder in the Mansion story line.)

NOTES: This was written for the Remix Redux Challenge and it is a remix of
Cherry Ice’s story “Spent Casings.” You can find the original at
www.doyourthing.org/cherry/xm/casings.htm. I didn’t much like where Morrison
went with New X-Men, so I was pleased to take this opportunity to rewrite a
small part of it.

* * * * *

Emma wondered if Bobby would hit her. It wasn’t likely, really, he was too
fundamentally a “nice” guy, even in these straitened circumstances. She wondered
idly how hard she’d have to push him before he’d do it. And what would happen to
him afterward.

“Are you even listening to me?” he growled, leaning against the wall of her
bedroom.

She inspected her boots for bloodstains. “Yes, I am. You were asking me what the
fuck I was doing.”

“And you weren’t answering.”

“No, I wasn’t.”

There was a long silence and she took the opportunity to check herself in the
mirror. It was one thing to enjoy a good catfight with one’s rival, but to
remain disheveled afterward was severely déclassé.

Of course, Bobby would likely point out that sleeping with a married man was
tacky, but he couldn’t possibly understand how her world worked, could he?

The drop of blood at the corner of her mouth she carefully dabbed away, sensing
Bobby’s reluctant desire as he watched. A small smile graced her lips at her
ability to arouse him even at a time like this. Of course, that was really so
typical of the male mind, wasn’t it? Think of your woman with another man…want
to have sex with your woman.

Not that she was his woman, but in the primitive male mind, she knew that
thought lurked.

“Scott. You’re really–”

“Yes.”

“Scott-fucking-Summers.”

“Can’t pull the wool over your eyes, now can I?” She picked up a silver-backed
brush and began to run it through her hair. It tugged out several clumps,
loosened by her recent altercation, but she hardly noticed. If only it was that
easy–

“Why?”

She considered her reflection for a long moment, watching Bobby’s face in the
mirror. “Because I can,” she said after a while.

He sat down on the bed, looking amusingly like a guppy, mouth gaping and
wheezing a bit. “Because you can? You’re having sex with Scott Summers because
you can.”

“Yes.”

He threw himself backward on the bed, covering his face with his hands. “I can’t
fucking believe it.”

“Such language, darling.”

“Fuck you.”

“You’ve already done that. In fact, you’d like to do it again. You’d take me
right now, if I’d let you. Up against the wall, so you could prove something.
You want to sit across the table from him this evening and know you had me
screaming.”

He shook his head, not in denial of her statement, but in dismissal of it as
irrelevant. “Why did you start the fight with Jean?”

“I didn’t–”

“Don’t give me that shit. You won. You had him, she didn’t. Why piss off Jean
until she jumped on you? Why whisper those little dirty secrets into her mind
until she lost it? I didn’t know you were that vindictive.”

“Why shouldn’t I?”

“Because you’d already won.”

“Had I?” She put her hair up, patting a few errant strands into place absently.
“What had I won?”

“Scott.”

She turned around, automatically noting his tensed muscles as he sat on her bed.
“What makes you think I wanted Scott?”

His jaw dropped again. “Wha…”

“Do close your mouth, or you’re going to catch flies. My mother always said
that.” Emma went to the closet as she tried to decide whether to change her
outfit. One advantage of wearing so little: There wasn’t much to damage, even in
a fight.

“If you didn’t want Scott…”

“Hmm?” She decided to leave her outfit as it was, just adding her diamond studs.
“Oh, the same reason I started the fight with Jean. Curiosity.”

This time he didn’t even ask, just waited for her to explain, and she bestowed a
smile and laugh on him. He didn’t smile back. “I wanted to see if they could
hurt me, of course. Don’t you see, nothing can hurt me now.”

His blue eyes grew wide and she laughed again. “Nothing can hurt me because
there’s nothing left to hurt.”

Humming, she went back to contemplating her image in the mirror.

–end–

by Mara

Summary: What happens when Scott and Madelyne meet? (Story #3 in the roundrobin)

NOTES/DEDICATION: This is a sequel to Minisinoo’s “The Goose Who Laid the
Golden Egg.” It happens before Dyce’s “What’s Good for the Goose is Good for
the Gander” because Dyce writes faster than I do and I had to spend the evening
at the in-law’s I hope you enjoy this, because I missed my stop on the train
this evening because I was writing it.

**Telepathy**

****************************

I didn’t know where the guards were taking me, and I was pretty damn scared. For
all I knew I was going to come back blue like Hank (Jesus, poor Hank) or half-
dead like Wolverine. ‘Course, I was playing it cool, trying to look unworried. I
doubt I was fooling anyone, but it made me feel a little better. I guess we do
whatever we need to do to survive.

Anyway, I was expecting all kinds of things, torture devices, a mad scientist’s
laboratory, the seventh circle of hell. I was *not* expecting to see Jean.

Goon number one slammed me up against the blue-tiled wall as number two opened
the door and then tossed me in.

“Hello, Scott,” she said as I stood up.

I leaned up against the other side of the door and stared at her. “Jean, what
the hell is going on? You were in your cell with Nightcrawler a minute ago. When
did you have time to change clothing?”

“I’m not Jean.”

I’d been prepared for torture, but this crap was just too much. “What the hell?
Either you’re a shapeshifter or that’s the fastest brainwashing I’ve ever seen,
of course you’re Jean. Now snap out of it and tell me what the hell we’re doing
in…”

Okay, I’ll admit it. I hadn’t looked around the room yet. Obviously a few weeks
with these bozos and a knock on the head had caused all my training to seep out
my ears. But even the horrible things we’d done and seen in those weeks were
*no* excuse for my not noticing I was in a bedroom. With a bed. With fucking
flowered sheets. Great, now I was sounding like Logan.

She looked amused in a sad and strained sort of way. “What we’re doing in my
bedroom? I’m really not Jean, Scott. The faster you understand this, the easier
things will be.”

I slid down slowly to the floor, keeping my eyes carefully on Jean, who’d
obviously gone insane in the minutes since I’d left her. She sat down in an
armchair and ran her fingers through her short red hair. A few pieces drifted
down, as if it had been recently cut.

“You know, maybe he was right. Maybe I could have fooled you into thinking I was
Jean long enough. Maybe not.”

It had taken awhile, but my brain was back in gear. I caught the important
words. “Long enough for what?”

She paused, and my brain ran through the torture options again.

“Long enough for us to have sex and get me pregnant.”

That was really the straw that broke the camel’s back. I sputtered. I hadn’t
actually understood that word until then. “Sex…preg…wha…you…”

“I am *not* Jean. My name is Madelyne Pryor. I think I’m her clone. Don’t ask me
how that happened since Dr. Essex hasn’t told me.” Her tone sharpened on the
last few words, and she winced. That told me this doctor was likely to be
listening in. Or watching. Hell.

It also told me she wasn’t Jean. I’d never seen Jean look like that, so
resigned, even in the worst circumstances. And we’d *been* in the worst
circumstances, and this wasn’t it. Yet.

Then the content of what she’d said sank in. “Her clone? Why the hell am I
supposed to get Jean’s clone pregnant?”

She looked relieved that I finally seemed to believe her. “Dr Essex…well,
let’s just say our baby will be an extraordinarily talented mutant. Maybe more
so than my others. I don’t really know.”

The blows just kept coming. “Others?” I asked, trying to not imagine what the
Weapon X bastards might do with mutant babies.

“Yes.” She looked like she wanted to say more, but was afraid to. Hmm, if she
was really Jean’s clone…

I reached out with my mind, the way the Professor taught me. **Tell me.**

“No!” She yelled, jumping out of the chair and throwing up her hands as if to
ward off my thoughts. I stayed very still, trying not to alarm her further.
“No,” she said again, quieter this time, “I’m not allowed. I get in trouble if
I do that. Please.”

“I’m sorry,” I said.

She was shaking, just a little. I tried to look as non-threatening as I could.
She wrapped her arms around her stomach and slowly moved back to the chair.

“Can we just get on with this?” she asked, as if requesting a routine physical
exam.

“Just like that?” I hadn’t even had time to process everything. Jesus H. Christ,
I’d certainly lusted after Jean’s body, I just thought it would come attached to
her brain.

“If we don’t, Dr. Essex will do it for us,” she said, looking even more unhappy
at that prospect. “That’s uncomfortable. I am most fertile today and tomorrow.”

Damn, it was all so tempting. To have a Jean of my own. Ready and willing to
sleep with me instead of the Wolverine. I wondered if this Essex knew that or if
he’d just gotten lucky.

“Look, Madelyne, it’s not that I don’t find you attractive, because I do, but I
don’t quite know what to do here.” Shit, now I was babbling.

Her look was pitying. “Haven’t you learned? You don’t have much of a choice.
Either we have sex or the samples are taken from us the hard way. That’s it.”

Damn it, there’s always a choice, even if she’d been stuck in this lab so long
she didn’t see it. Oh my god, was she *born* here? Stop thinking about that and
find a way out. Why couldn’t I think of anything? All the plans I’d been
confidently planning and not *one* dealt with the possibility of Jean’s clone
telling me to have sex with her. I hadn’t planned for Armageddon or Ragnarok
either.

Madelyne moved over to the bed. She looked so much like Jean, I couldn’t stand
it.

Slowly, I stood up and walked towards her. I wanted to cry at the hint of fear
in her eyes. I wanted to shout. I wanted to destroy things.

I wanted to wring Dr. Essex’s neck.

I vowed that when we left this place, if we couldn’t take her with us, we would
come back for her as well as her baby. My baby.

I sat carefully on the bed next to her. Her face was blank now. I felt like I
was about to rape her, but what else could I do? If we had to do this, at least
I could try and make it pleasant.

She’s not Jean. I wish to hell I knew who she really was. I wish I had time to
find out.

–end–

by Mara

Summary: Scott wants to go find Madelyne and his child, but he’s got to go through Ororo first. (Story #9)

NOTES: This takes place at more or less the same time as Sascha’s “Wild Goose
Chase.” Sorry if this is a bit long, but Scott and Ororo would *not* shut up,
and they refused to think in a linear fashion. Thanks to David Ellis for the
beta and help on Ultimate Ororo. Thanks also to my husband, who patiently put up
with me muttering to myself about this story for most of a three hour car ride.
(“Is Kurt with them?” “What?” “Oh, sorry, nothing…”)

**********************************

I’m not really that fond of deserts, as a rule. They’re either too hot or too
cold, they’re not very visually exciting (especially for someone who only sees
in shades of red), and they’re really, really dry. What can I say? I get thirsty
easily.

However, I was willing to make an exception for one particular stretch of desert
in southern Arizona near the Mexican border. It had some nice saguaros (those
big cacti you always see in cartoons), an abandoned building big enough to fit a
bunch of escaped superhero types, and it was far away from the Weapon X project
and our usual New York haunts.

Everyone needed a rest, and Jean needed to stay put long enough to try and help
the Professor. And I needed everyone to stay put so *I* could take off for a
while.

We’d been in Arizona for a few days, and everyone was gathering in the living
room. Well, everyone but Hank, who was patrolling. That’s when I brought up the
issue that had been plaguing my mind since we’d escaped.

“I’m going after Madelyne,” I said, turning away from the dingy window. The
others stared at me in a mix of dismay, confusion, and anger. Kurt, our new
recruit, was mainly confused. Jean had picked up German pretty easily, but she
was having trouble putting English in his mind.

“No way,” Jean said, stepping out of the bedroom where we kept the Professor.
“We don’t have time for this. We’re running away from an incredibly powerful,
well-armed, and well-connected branch of the government, remember?”

“I know that, and she’s running away from the same people.”

“Which is exactly why you should stay away. If they’ve found her, then they’ll
find us.” Jean’s voice rose and Logan put his arm around her shoulders. She
leaned into him. The small part of me that wasn’t worrying about Madelyne and my
child was surprised to find how little that bothered me.

“If they’ve found her, then I’ll have to get her out again. I wasn’t asking for
help or anyone’s permission, I was telling you. I will not let those bastards
have her *or* my child. End of story.”

Everyone but Logan looked embarrassed to witness our argument. Well, the
Professor just looked unconscious. I ruthlessly smothered my twinge of guilt at
leaving him in this condition. I couldn’t drag them all with me to find
Madelyne, but I had to find her soon.

Jean clenched her fists. “You’re the one that told us to stick together, leader-
boy. Changing your mind? Tired of taking care of us? Worried your new girlfriend
might get rid of your inconvenient baby?”

“That’s enough,” Ororo said, and Jean and I both glared at her. “If you two want
to act like children, take it outside and slap each other silly for all I care.
But if you’re our leaders, then fucking well act like them.”

Damn, I hate when she’s right.

I swallowed my rising anger, reminding myself that Jean had also been through
hell in these past months. We were all scared and on edge, worried about the
Professor and our future.

I eased down from my confrontational posture and sat down, hoping a change in
body language would cool things off. Jean leaned back into Logan’s arms, and
took a few deep meditative breaths. When she looked at me again, I could see
she’d calmed down.

“I’m sorry,” she said to me.

“I’m sorry, too.” I continued with my thoughts. “What I’m saying is, we’re as
safe as we’re going to get for the moment, and this is something I have to do. I
don’t know Madelyne’s exact location or condition, but I owe her the attempt.”

Ororo looked like she wanted to say something, but whatever it was she didn’t
want to say it in public. That was *not* a good sign. She tilted her head
slightly toward the door but I ignored her for the moment. “Look, I’m not
leaving this minute,” I said, “but I wanted to let you know what I’m planning as
soon as possible. I’m not running out on you, and I’ll be back.”

Then I got support from the absolute last place I’d ever expected. “You should
go,” Logan said. He didn’t quite look me in the eye. “If you don’t, you’ll
regret it.” Everyone stared at him. “Believe me, folks, we don’t want any kids
falling back into the hands of Weapon X.”

Silence fell as we all contemplated what Logan must have experienced in his time
there. For him to stick up for me, it had to be pretty bad.

“Thank you, Logan,” I said. Ororo looked impatient, so I wrapped up with, “We’ll
finish this discussion later,” and followed her out the front door, past the
short whip-like cacti Hank said were ocotillos.

She was waiting by the big rock in the yard, looking mysterious and dangerous. I
leaned against the rock and looked up at the setting sun.

“What’s up, ‘Ro? Are you going to tell me I shouldn’t go?” It was getting cold
fast, and my words floated out on puffs of steam.

“Not gonna tell you that, but your reasons for sticking together are as good now
as they were when we escaped. I *was* gonna tell you I think you’re running off
half-cocked here.”

“Jesus, what the hell do you expect me to do! I got everybody out, I got us
here, I’ve waited longer than I wanted already! I can’t do a damn thing for the
Professor except stand around and watch.”

She didn’t react at all, just watched me like I was a rat running through a
maze. “Sure, but I don’t think you’ve thought this through.”

My throat closed on a rush of emotion and I walked away, unwilling to let her
see. I’d unburdened myself to her once, on the way to India. That was a mistake.
I was the leader, I couldn’t stick my team-mates with all my problems. That’s
why I couldn’t tell her about Alex.

I could hear her walking behind me. “You need to decide what you want. And what
you can have.”

I stopped and turned, so suddenly she nearly ran me down. “I want my child.”

“Well, duh. But what about Madelyne? What’s she gonna be doing while you’re
playing Daddy?”

Damn it, she was right again. “I don’t know.”

“D’you think you’re gonna settle down with her? Get a house with a picket fence,
and have 2.5 mutant children?” She was up in my face.

“I told you, I don’t know!”

She was calm again. “Well, you’d better figure out some answers.” She took my
arm and dragged me back to the rock to sit on a convenient perch.

I looked up at the darkening sky and thought about Madelyne, a woman I’d only
known for a few hours. Some sort of animal howled in the distance. God, I hate
deserts. Give me the mean streets of a city any time.

I tried to articulate my thoughts. “She was so scared of Essex, and now she’s
out there running away from him. I don’t even know how much she knows about the
outside world, and she’s running. I feel sorry for her. I want to help her, do
what I can. Besides, she’s…” I stopped, unsure if I wanted anyone else to know
what I’d learned. Unsure if this was the right person to tell.

“She’s what?”

Hell, in for a penny, in for a pound. “She’s running away with Sabretooth. I
think.”

Ororo gasped and I could hear thunder in the distance. She had one fist shoved
against her mouth. Oh hell, bad choice, Summers. “‘Ro, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t
have said anything. I’m not even completely sure.”

She took a deep breath and seemed to force herself to relax. “Chill, ‘sokay. I
was just surprised. What makes you think she’s with him?”

Someday, Ororo and I were going to talk a little bit more about she’d been
through. Someday soon. I mentally regrouped.

“You know Logan and I have been gathering intelligence as we’ve traveled? I’ve
been keeping an eye out for news of her. Well, there’ve been some sightings up
North of a couple who could be Sabretooth and Madelyne.”

“But if you’ve heard…”

“…then Weapon X might have, too,” I said. “Grim thought, huh? On the bright
side, the kinda people who talk to us aren’t exactly gonna go out of their way
to talk to Weapon X. Besides, we made a hell of a mess on the way out. It’s
gonna take them some time to clean up. But it worries me. Besides being worried
about what the hell she’s doing with Sabretooth.”

I didn’t tell her about the *other* intelligence I’d gathered, about Alex. That
would have to wait. I’d just have to hope that Essex was too busy to go after
him.

“You’d better be more than worried, you’d better be thinking hard about what
you’re gonna do. ‘Cause if you think you’re gonna recruit Sabretooth, think
again.” Ororo practically spat his name.

“If we can take in Logan, why not Sabretooth?”

“It’s not the same,” Ororo said, her voice becoming angry and cold. I could feel
electricity building up around us. “And I didn’t exactly vote Logan into the
club, either. But there’s no way I’m gonna work with that overgrown cat
bastard.”

Well, I was in deep now, and I’d better talk fast if I didn’t want to get fried.

“What if he’s willing to help us take down the Weapon X project for good?”

“Why should he? He was helping those bastards, remember?” Her eyes were white,
and I could hear the thunder again.

“Then why would he be running off with Madelyne?” I said. She stared at me,
uncertain, her eyes shading back to their normal color. Aha, got her. “If
there’s hope for an assassin, a car thief, and an enforcer for the Russian
Mafia, maybe there’s hope for an ‘overgrown cat bastard.’”

“Scott, he…”

“I know.”

“You’re pretty damn good at changing the subject.”

“Yeah.”

“I could of killed you just now. And I might kill Sabretooth if you bring him
here.”

“I know.”

We sat in silence for a while and watched the sun drop lower. The air was so
clear, that even as dusk fell, we could see for miles. We could see the
individual trees on the mountains, the rows of saguaros that stretched all the
way there, and the light falling on the scrub and rocks.

“Is it a beautiful sunset?” I asked.

“Yeah, it is.”

“I’m going to leave in two days.” I tried to sound like a leader again.

Ororo stopped looking at the sunset. “Be careful, Scott.”

“I’m always careful. I was born careful.”

“You’re walking into a potential minefield, and you’re not taking backup,” she
said scornfully. “On what planet is that careful?”

“How do you know I’m not taking backup?”

She didn’t even justify that with an answer. “Just get your ass back here soon.
You may piss me off, but the team needs you. And think about what you’re doing,
or you’re gonna buy us a whole new world of trouble.”

“I will.” I jumped off the rock and headed back into the house to make my plans.
I needed to talk to Logan, he knew Canada a heck of a lot better than I did. And
Jean and I had to discuss where the team would go if they had to leave suddenly.
There was a lot to do before I left. But a little bird told me I had a chance to
find Madelyne and my child, and I wasn’t giving it up for anyone.

by Mara

Summary: “The call telling him to get his butt into Cuddy’s office *immediately*
came not from Cuddy, but from her secretary. Crap, House thought. That was a bad
sign.”

The call telling him to get his butt into Cuddy’s office *immediately* came not
from Cuddy, but from her secretary. Crap, House thought. That was a bad sign.

When he arrived in her office, she wasn’t there. Shit. That was an even worse
sign, because it meant she was so mad she felt the need to cool off before
talking to him. That rarely ever happened. Slumping into a chair, House began to
marshal his defenses and prepare himself.

But when she stalked into the room, face set and cold, he found he wasn’t
prepared at all.

“I should fire you right now,” she said.

“Really? We–”

“Failing that, I should report you to the ethics board.” She went behind her
desk and sat down.

“I–”

“Be quiet, House.” Her tone was soft, but venomous, and he closed his mouth.
“Failing *that*, I should knock you on your ass.”

He couldn’t help it. “Bet you can’t.”

“Bet you’re wrong. Don’t tempt me.”

He opened his mouth, then realized she wasn’t joking, and shut it again.

“The only reason I’m not doing any of those things is because Wilson asked me
not to.” Fingernails clicked on the edge of her desk as she studied him like a
particularly nasty insect she’d found crawling on her kitchen floor. “He begged,
actually. I don’t know what hold you have on him, but whatever it is, it’s damn
good, because after the way you’ve treated us…”

“I didn’t–”

“Did I tell you it was your turn to talk?”

He closed his mouth again.

“I’ve taken a lot of shit from you over the years, House. And for once I’m not
talking about the sexual harassment.”

Her tone went from angry to simply uncaring and he found he missed the anger.

“And do you know,” she said, staring at him, “despite every time you’ve lied to
me and circumvented my authority and basically treated me like a spoilsport,
I’ve defended you to the board, I’ve defended you to your peers, I’ve defended
you to the cops, and I’ve defended you to the *patients* you treat like shit
even as you cure them.”

She leaned back in her chair, shaking her head slightly. “But this really takes
the cake, even for you. Faking cancer? That’s amateur. That’s running up to your
mommy and telling her you have a boo-boo so can get a bandage.”

House stared up at the ceiling, trying to ignore the sting of her words.

“House, *look at me*.”

“Are you done lecturing?” His tone came out harsher than he’d planned, making it
hard to play this the way he wanted.

“Not by a long shot. Wilson thinks this is some passive-aggressive thing. I
think he gives you too much credit. You know, I thought we were finally
connecting a little. I thought you finally understood that I was trying to help
you. But it turns out I was wrong and you’ve been playing me like a piano. And
I’m tired of it.”

“And I’m tired of my leg hurting, but nobody seems to care about that.”

Cuddy slammed her hand down on the desk. “Stop that! Stop trying to make
everything about poor baby you. I’m not impressed. You *lied* to the doctors at
Mass General and you let all of us think you were dying. You’re only here
because of Wilson, so maybe you can go tell him your sob story, because I don’t
care. Now get out of my office and try not to get in my way.”

He stood slowly, playing for time, trying to think of something to say,
something funny, something sarcastic, anything to show he was the same as
always. But for once, his quick wit had deserted him. “I…”

“Don’t say you’re sorry unless you mean it.”

“I didn’t intend for anyone to find out.” Leaning on the cane, he felt himself
sagging.

Her face didn’t change. “Get out. Don’t say another word. Just get out before I
change my mind and fire you.”

Staring at her for a long moment, he was tempted to say something, anything,
just to see what she’d do. But he turned and stomped out, the cane sounding very
loud in the silence.

As he closed her office door behind him, he risked a glance at Cuddy, just to
see her expression. She was flipping through her calendar, phone already in her
hand. She wasn’t even looking in his direction.

Oddly, that hurt more than anything she’d said. Taking a ragged breath, House
went back to his office, wondering how the pain in his leg had migrated to his
chest.

–end–

by Mara

Summary: The title says it all, I should think.

Story Notes:

House getting shot was almost anticlimactic, Cuddy thought with a distant part of her brain as the surgery went on. She’d always assumed someone would shoot him eventually, when he pushed a patient or a family member or a clinic visitor one step too far.

But she hadn’t thought about what it would be like to stand and watch while someone else did the surgery. For some reason, she’d always imagined herself as the surgeon, which was utterly ridiculous.

But here she was, standing in the gallery with Wilson and watching the monitors. And when the surgery was done, she followed his gurney down to Recovery. Nobody questioned her presence, and eventually everyone else went away, leaving her with House and a lot of beeping machines.

She sat for a very long time, just watching his chest rise and fall with slow breaths and thinking about how oddly relaxed he looked. She tucked the blanket more firmly around him and brushed a hand across his stubbly cheek.

If this was a romance novel, she would lean over and kiss his forehead and he would wake up and smile at her and they’d live happily ever after.

Eventually, Cuddy turned to leave. “Heal quickly so I can kick your ass,” she said over her shoulder.

3.

“So, there we were in the meeting,” the handsome man in the blue suit said, leaning forward in his seat. “Me with my hangover, David with his shirt with the scorch mark, and Naomi with the slip gradually sliding down her waist.”

“Oh no,” Cuddy said, laughing already.

“And then the client asks–”

“I hate to interrupt this cozy chat,” a voice said from behind her.

Cuddy covered her eyes for an instant before twisting in her chair. “What do you *want*?”

House put a hand to his heart. “I’m hurt that you would think I wanted something from you. Out of the goodness of my heart, I seek you out to ask your permission before I begin treating my patient with a potentially dangerous drug cocktail and–”

“Shut up.”

His eyebrows shot up in almost comically overdone alarm. “I–”

“Shut. Up.”

He mimed zipping his lips shut and Cuddy shot a quelling look at her dinner companion, who was hiding a grin.

“House. Let me start by saying that there is a *reason* I decided to have dinner a full hour away from the hospital. And if you spent *half* as much energy on being happy as you do on stalking me, you’d be Pollyanna. Not to mention the fact that if you wanted to talk to me, I carry both a *pager and a cell phone*!”

Her voice was rising and House wasn’t hiding his smirk very well.

“And lastly, I would like to note that you have trekked an hour on your motorcycle in order to interrupt dinner with my *brother-in-law.*”

House’s smirk disappeared and for an instant he looked utterly astonished.

“Gregory House, this is Andrew Cotone, who is married to my younger sister.”

Andrew stood, openly grinning now, and held out his hand. “Pleased to meet you. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

Pulling himself together, House shook Andrew’s hand. “I can just imagine what she says about me, considering what she says in bed. Does she tell you I’m a stud? And that she lusts after me all the time?”

Cuddy rolled her eyes. “No.” The two men exchanged manly grins and Cuddy wondered what they’d do if she grabbed House’s t-shirt and kissed him right there in front of God and everyone.

Then with a sigh she waved at House. “Now that we’ve established there’s no date for you to interrupt, go away so we can eat in peace.”

“You’ve come all this way,” Andrew said. “Why don’t you join us?”

Cuddy changed her mind. She didn’t want to kiss House, she wanted to smack her brother-in-law.

“I’d be *delighted*,” House said, grabbing a chair from a nearby table.

Cuddy picked up her purse and began to rummage for an Advil. Maybe she’d bum a Vicodin off House, because the headache was shaping up to be a monster.

4.

When House kicked the new fellows out of his office, they went, scattering like leaves in the wind. Cuddy caught sight of them and nabbed Kutner, like a lioness catching the weakest zebra in the herd.

“Don’t you have a patient to be treating?” she asked.

“We lost her,” Kutner said, practically shuffling his feet. “House finally figured out it was acute promyelocytic leukemia, but her heart gave out before we even started a round of chemo.”

“She died.” It wasn’t a question. Even as she said it, Cuddy knew it was stupid. She’d had a bad feeling about this case and how House was going to react ever since he’d stampeded into her office, ranting more than usual about the patient’s parents.

She almost flew down the hallway to House’s office.

It was empty.

“Where is he?” she demanded, whirling to glare at Kutner.

“I–”

“Never mind.” She took off, leaving a stunned fellow in the hallway. She ran into Wilson moments later, his coat and briefcase in hand. “Good, you’re still here.”

“I was just–”

“The baby died.”

Wilson changed course and followed her toward her office, waiting while she grabbed her own coat. They strode quickly down the street, turning right three blocks down.

“Where’s Foreman?” Wilson asked, breaking the silence.

“Conference.”

“Oh. Right.”

The Plainsboro Grill was a hole in the wall which survived on traffic from the hospital, and Wilson held the door for Cuddy as they entered.

As they’d expected, House was in a booth in the back corner and from the looks of the table, he’d already managed to get through a couple of glasses of whiskey. He didn’t look up when they slid into the booth on either side of them or acknowledge the waitress who brought an apparently endless stream of booze.

Every once in a while, House would look up from his drinking and insult their ancestry, clothing, or personal habits. Or all of the above. Cuddy sipped at a glass of Sam Adams (the only decent thing the place had) and then switched to a diet Coke.

Occasionally, she and Wilson would chat, but mainly they waited, glancing at the TV showing CNN or watching House. There were plenty of doctors and nurses scattered through the crowd, but after a single glance at the table, everyone steered away. Cuddy sighed and took another sip of Coke.

It took two hours, but finally House picked up a glass and looked like he was about to throw it. Wilson grabbed his arm and Cuddy snatched the glass out of his hand.

House resisted for a second, then slumped, his long body bending over like an old man’s. Wilson threw one of House’s arms over his shoulder and the two of them dragged him out the door and into the chilly air.

Cuddy sat on the bench, shivering at the cold even through her jacket, and Wilson propped House next to her while he went to get his car.

House leaned against her unashamedly and she smacked a wandering hand out of habit, making him chuckle.

Slinging an arm over her shoulder, House propped his head on top of hers, and Cuddy steadied herself with a hand on the wooden bench.

“She wasn’t bad. Y’know, for a baby.” House’s words were barely slurred, which was impressive, considering how much alcohol he’d consumed.

“I know.”

“I shoulda figured it out sooner.”

Cuddy didn’t bother to respond. She’d tried, the last few times it got this bad, and it made him more upset, so she’d stopped trying. Slipping her other arm around his waist, she just held on tightly.

“You should have one.” His voice was distant, wondering.

“What?”

“A baby.”

Cuddy’s hand slipped on the wood and they nearly toppled over, but she wasn’t sure House even noticed.

Lifting his head, he looked down at her and for a moment she thought he looked entirely sober. “You’d be a good mother.”

Through the lump in her throat, Cuddy managed to speak. “Thank you.”

House leaned back against her and started to snore.

Shaking her head, Cuddy sighed and a smile crept across her face. “You wouldn’t be a half-bad father,” she said softly.

–end–

by Mara

Summary: Just when Jack Carter thought his life couldn’t get any worse…

by Mara

Summary: What if Cuddy had talked to House instead of Wilson at the end of “Painless”?

by Mara

Summary: Henry has a proposal. Mike’s weirded out. Vicki doesn’t react the way
Mike expected.

Henry Fitzroy leaned against the doorway to his apartment, looking elegantly
rumpled, and Mike resisted the urge to punch him just on principle.

“May I help you?” Fitzroy asked.

Mike gritted his teeth. “I’d like to talk to you.”

“Is this another conversation about my predilections for drinking blood? If so,
don’t bother.” Fitzroy’s tone was ironic and his face expressionless.

“No.” Mike took a breath. “Vicki’s barely talking to me since you and I last
fought.” He fought satisfaction as Fitzroy’s bored expression flickered. So he
was right, she’d gotten mad at both of them. “I wanted to see if we could get
over this.”

Fitzroy thought for a moment, then turned. “Come in,” he called over his
shoulder.

Mike followed him into the living room, sitting carefully on a chair as Fitzroy
sat on the couch he’d obviously vacated to answer the door. They sat in silence
for a long moment, Fitzroy seeming content to let him squirm as long as he
wanted, lounging even more elegantly. It was really aggravating.

“So,” Mike said when he couldn’t take the silence anymore.

“So,” Fitzroy echoed, looking amused.

Mike coughed. “Look, I want Vicki. I know you do too, but it’s not doing either
of us any good to fight over her.”

“I have noticed she’s not precisely flattered by the attention,” Fitzroy said.

“You can say that again.” Sighing, Mike forced out the words he’d come here to
say. “I’m sorry for what I said. You’ve helped her out and I appreciate that.”

Fitzroy raised an eyebrow. “I never expected you to say that.”

“Neither did I.”

Tilting his head, Fitzroy considered him. “I’m certainly willing to forgive and
forget if you are.”

“Good.” Mike began to stand up.

“However,” Fitzroy raised a hand, “I should note that there is another solution
to our dilemma.”

“Hmm?” Mike frowned at him.

“You’re correct that we’re both attracted to Victoria, but there is a solution.”
Mike’s hand twitched for the gun he wasn’t wearing. Fitzroy noticed and smiled
at him. “No, that wasn’t what I had in mind. Not that you haven’t tempted me to
kill you on a few occasions.”

“What *are* you thinking, then?”

“We could share her.”

Mike snorted in laughter. “What, like I get Monday, Wednesday, Friday and you
get Tuesday, Thursday, Saturday? Or maybe I get days and you get nights? Even if
she’d agree to that, it’s ridiculous.”

“No, that wasn’t what I had in mind.” Fitzroy leaned forward, eyes darkening.

Mike’s breath caught in his throat and he instinctively leaned back in the
chair. “Uh…I don’t…you’re not exactly my type.”

Still intent, Fitzroy smiled slowly. “That’s what I thought you would say.”

Mike decided he knew how that proverbial deer in headlights felt, as he froze,
unsure which way to run.

“I could make you do it, you know. I could make love to you right here and now.
And you’d enjoy yourself.” Fitzroy’s voice was smooth and low. “I have the power
and your mind is not nearly as strong as Victoria’s.”

It was hard to catch his breath. “Why don’t you?”

Fitzroy smiled and leaned back against the couch, eyes and voice returning to
normal. “Two reasons. One, whatever you may think, my partners have all been
willing for over 250 years, and two, Victoria wouldn’t like it.”

With great effort, Mike kept his voice calm. “And you care that much what she
thinks?”

“To my great surprise, yes, I do.” Fitzroy stood in a smooth motion and Mike
scrambled to his feet. “And you do as well, or you wouldn’t be here.”

Mike took a step toward the door. Not retreating. Absolutely not. “She was my
partner and friend before she met you.”

“True.” Fitzroy inclined his head.

“Well, that’s what I came here to say,” Mike said, walking toward the door.

Without making a sound, Fitzroy stood beside him, hand on the doorknob. “Leaving
so soon?”

“Yes.” Mike held himself very still as Fitzroy moved into his personal space.

Fitzroy smiled, as if at a private joke. “Then go.” He stepped back and waved
his hand grandly at the door.

Mike swallowed. And left.

* * * * *

His mind still a little shell-shocked and unsure what had just happened, he
found himself at Vicki’s door. It wasn’t the first time he’d wandered over at an
odd time of night, so she didn’t look *too* surprised.

“What’s up? Something wrong?” she asked with a yawn, waving him to her beat-up
couch, a far cry from Fitzroy’s elegant suite of rooms.

“No.” He slumped down, unsure what to say to her.

“So? Spill it.” She propped her feet up on the coffee table.

“I just came from Henry Fitzroy’s place,” he blurted out.

Her feet thumped to the floor. “Oh god, not this again. You came over here at
this time of night to start up the ‘He’s a dangerous vampire’ crap? I can’t
*believe* you, Mike.”

“Wait!” He held up a hand. “I went over there to apologize to him.”

“Really?” Her eyebrows rose. “Good for you. What did Henry say?”

A deep breath. Two. “He propositioned me. Said we could share you.” He waited
for the explosion.

Shrugging, Vicki leaned back. “Yeah, but did he agree to stop fighting? ‘Cause
I’m getting tired of it.”

He stared at her. “Did you hear me?”

“Uh-huh. He thinks you’re hot. Big surprise. He’s not exactly alone in that, as
you well know.” Vicki covered a big yawn with her hand. “Sorry, I’m a little
short on sleep.”

Mike had no idea what to say, so he just sat there.

Vicki sighed. “He’s a vampire who’s descended from royalty and you’re freaked
out that he’s *bisexual*? You’ve got some bizarre priorities.”

Mike leaned back on the couch and decided he hated his life.

“Just tell me you didn’t say yes.”

“What?” He bolted upright.

“Because if anyone’s going to share me, it’s going to be *my* decision.”

She grinned at him and he tried to decide if she was joking.

–end–

by Mara

Summary: A missing scene from “Post Partum.”

Author’s Chapter Notes:Continuity: This is *not* connected to my OT3 series.

Coreen dropped her clanking load of iron into the backseat of Mike’s car and slid into the front seat barely in time as he shot out of the police station parking lot, narrowly avoiding several cars trying to pull in. She looked like she was about to say something about that, but Mike suspected his expression was forbidding enough that she changed midstream.

“Henry’s going to meet us there,” she said.

“Hmmph.” Mike skidded around the corner, gripping the steering wheel so hard he thought he might be leaving fingerprints.

Slumping down in her seat, Coreen said, “What is it with you guys?”

Mike shook his head. “If you don’t know, I’m not going to explain.”

“No, I mean I know it’s all about Vicki and I’m totally down with the whole romantic aspect of the two of you both in love with her, but it’s getting old.”

“Sorry.”

“Uh-huh.” She blithely ignored his tone. “I can’t believe Vicki’s held out this long, anyway. Henry’s got the whole powerful creature of the night–”

“Coreen.” They screamed through a yellow light as it turned red.

“Uh…” She looked at him. “Right. Shutting up now.”

* * * * *

Tires squealed as Mike parked the car in the shady alcove a few blocks from the clinic that he and Vicki had staked out as the best hiding spot for surveillance purposes. His mind churned with all the things that could be going wrong inside the clinic right now and his stomach was a ball of fear. Damn it, he should have made her leave. If they’d laid a single hand on her…

As he opened the car door, Henry materialized out of the shadows, face tight with a fear and anger that matched his own. “No abnormal sounds. Women talking, some banging that could be anything,” he said shortly.

“If Vicki were in immediate danger, she’d be making noise.”

“Agreed,” Henry said, with a twitch of a grin. “I’ll go find her.”

Coming around the front of the car, Mike lifted a tire iron out of Coreen’s bag. “No. You’re a civilian and I’m a cop. I’m going in.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Henry said, grabbing his arm. “The place is locked up tight. I run faster and I can go places you can’t.”

Mike jerked his arm away, knowing that Henry had let him go. “But I already know the building layout.”

“So tell me where she is. Besides, what are you going to do against ancient evil like a schwarzenelfen? Wave your badge and try to arrest it?”

“You planning to seduce it instead? Be my guest. I hear dark elves are *great* in bed.”

Coreen groaned. “Hey, we don’t have time for this! Vicki’s in there, remember?”

But I don’t want *him* to save Vicki, Mike thought. Then he felt like an idiot. Teeth grinding with the need to bash in every door until he found her, he said, “Her room is in the first floor, west wing, eighth in from the back of the building. There are sensors set at knee height sweeping out to twenty feet. Two guards, one back, one front, very inattentive.”

Henry looked him in the eye. “I’ll get her out.” And he was gone in a blink.

Raising the tire iron, Mike gave a practice swing and nodded, setting off for the clinic at a jog. “Stay there,” he said to Coreen. “If Vicki gets out herself, she might come here to look for me.”

“Where are you going?” Coreen called.

“To make sure they both get out of there safely. I *am* a cop, after all.”

Behind him, he could hear Coreen’s groan. “Men.”

* * * * *

When it was all over, Coreen dragged Vicki off to interrogate her about something, leaving Mike and Henry standing awkwardly on the front lawn. Henry looked like he wanted to stage a disappearing act but couldn’t quite manage it with so many ambulances and police cars.

Mike desperately wanted to disappear to, but there was something he had to do first. If he could manage it. There was a nasty taste in his mouth as he turned to Henry. “So.”

That got him an arrogant look. “So.” Henry crossed his arms.

Mike reminded himself it needed to be said. “I wanted to thank you. For going in to help Vicki.”

“She’s quite welcome,” Henry said with a grin.

Mike gritted his teeth and kept going. “I know Vicki’s not always grateful. But I’m…glad she has someone looking out for her.”

Henry considered him for a long moment. “Thank you for your assist in the hallway.”

“You’re welcome.”

There was an awkward silence.

“I still don’t like you,” Mike said.

“The feeling’s entirely mutual.”

–end–