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1X05 – Second Star to the Right – Act II
It was the kind of open air, quant looking, café where old sun-baked men sat and drank beers while reading a newspaper. The Acolytes looked decidedly out of place and were written off as ‘tourists’ by the islanders of Fernando de Noronha off the coast of Brazil.
“Seriously,” Pyro laid down the travel brochure, “not only do you bring me to a place listed as a World Heritage Site, which I’m not allowed to burn those,” he was gratuitous with the finger quotes, “but one whose main tourist activity is scuba diving… in water.”
Rogue and Avalanche looked between each other, both slightly worried at what could happen with a bored Pyro on their hands.
“Wait,” Quicksilver raised his hand to hold any conversation, “since when are you not allowed to burn down World Heritage Sites?”
“You know,” the Australian shrugged, “after Yakushima…”
“Oh,” he remembered the incident but couldn’t understand the connection.
Rogue leaned over and said, “His parents found out.”
“Ah,” that made more sense.
“I said I would try,” Pyro explained, “after all, if I wouldn’t burn down Uluru then I shouldn’t burn down other natural wonders.”
“How would you burn a rock?” Avalanche asked, mild curiosity washed over his rhetorical question.
“Logistics are tricky but it could be done,” the Aussie assured him, “I’ve put thought into this.”
The waitress picked that moment to bring them their beers. Once she was gone, Quicksilver pushed his tablet pc towards the middle of the table.
“This is our mission,” he brought up a file, a scanned copy that looked like a typical military dossier, circa World War II, with a brown and white photo of a man in his late thirties, “his name is Gregor Fuchs, he has the distinction of being an assistant at the Kaiser Wilhelm Institute during the Second World War.”
“Kaiser Wilhelm Institute,” Rogue’s eyes went distant, odds are he just riled up several voices in her head, “Mengele did work there.”
“Wait,” Pyro’s head popped up, “Josef ‘Angel of Death’ Mengele?”
“Mengele was an assistant to a man named Otmar von Verschuer,” he swiped the image and brought up another file, “he was also interested in Eugenics but not to the extent of Mengele. Verschuer was very curious about twins and studied them extensively.”
“Did either of them know about mutants?” Avalanche asked.
“I can’t see how they couldn’t have,” Rogue replied, “not with how many people they must have experimented on.”
“We don’t know for sure,” Quicksilver admitted, “at the close of the war Verschuer supposedly destroyed Mengele’s notes as well as his own.”
“Seems suspicious,” Pyro flicked open his lighter, “burning everything, but then Mengele’s notes aren’t exactly something I’d want just laying about, innocent or no.”
“As we know,” the silver haired leader ignored the pyromaniac, “Mengele fled to South America and died in Brazil in the 70s. Our Gregor Fuchs,” he swiped the picture back over, “also came to South America at the close of the war, only a month after Mengele’s papers were burned.”
Everyone sat thoughtfully, Avalanche speaking up, “Are we thinking Fuchs brought with him Mengele’s notes?”
“Could be a coincidence,” Quicksilver admitted, “Mengele lived south of here in Argentina while Fuchs came directly to Brazil, probably Rio, before moving to and possibly dying on this island. This was of course after he changed his name, to what we don’t know. We need to find him if he’s still alive, or what he might have left behind if he’s not.”
“Wait, you don’t know if he’s still alive,” Rogue pointing out the failure in the logic chain, “or even his name? Then how do we know he came to the island?”
“His name popped up not too long ago, someone was researching him,” the leader explained, “the trace came back to this café and their free wifi.”
“That doesn’t mean Fuchs is or has been on this island,” she countered.
“But it’s a lead,” and with that he won the discussion, Rogue nodding her agreement.
“If…” Pyro started, thinking for a second, “if Fuchs came to Brazil with the notes then moved over here, wouldn’t he have already given everything to Mengele?”
“Mengele was never known to have gotten them back, they were not found on his person or in his effects when he died,” Quicksilver pointed out, “it could be Fuchs was holding the notebooks and Mengele never got a chance to get them. It’s also possible Fuchs stole them for himself. Or maybe…” he sighed, “maybe we’re chasing nothing. Either way, we’re here to find out.”
…
The group knew what to do and broke up to follow their individual leads. But before heading out, Rogue cornered Quicksilver in the alley behind the café, “What does Magneto want with Mengele’s notes?”
“I wouldn’t know,” he was short with her.
“We’re talking about Mengele,” Rogue shook her head, “the man who was personally responsible for the deaths of countless during the holocaust,” she really couldn’t wrap this around her head, “Of all people, Magneto shouldn’t want to come within a parsec of anything that man did.”
“Normally, yes,” Quicksilver got that frustrated look in his eyes when he felt someone was wasting his time, “but think about it Rogue, we’re in the middle of a war, if our kind is to survive, to not become the next holocaust, we need every advantage we can get.”
“Advantage?” she practically laughed the word. “He experimented on children. Any ‘advantage’ he could have discovered isn’t worth it.”
“He did horrible things,” the man admitted the grey area he was walking, “but we can’t change the past, undo what he did, but maybe… maybe some good can come of it by taking his own research and using it to help people instead of subjugate them.”
“Nothing good can come of this,” she said harshly.
“Nothing?” he stared down at her, “What if in his notes was the key to control? Universal control.”
The thought hadn’t even crossed Rogue’s mind she was so incensed over the issue, but now that he mentioned it, it did give her a moment to pause. Control was likely the one thing she’d sell her soul to the devil for… “Don’t even go there.”
“This is our mission, Rogue,” he told her pointedly, “you want out, just say.”
“And now you’re turning this back on me,” she was disgusted but unsure at whom. The silver haired man knew Rogue never turned her back on her friends, the Acolytes, her mother, or Magneto.
He ignored her accusation, “You in or you out?”
“In,” she sighed reluctantly, “but I don’t like any of this.”
“No one said you had to,” he said wryly and then zipped away, leaving Rogue to stew in her own thoughts.
What if the answer to her control issues truly did lie in the notes of a man who did unspeakable horrors? Would she truly sell her soul for that information? She really hoped she wasn’t going to have to find out.
What would be worse, saying no or saying yes.
…
It was getting close to lunchtime, the cook and staffers preparing taco fixings, it was Taco Tuesday after all. Charles rolled his chair into the kitchen where Marie was chopping up tomatoes. The woman was humming softly to herself.
“Marie,” he gently got her attention.
“Oh, yes Professor?” she said shyly.
“I came by to see how you were feeling today,” he said politely.
“I’m feeling great,” she gave him a silly look, continuing to slice and dice, “why wouldn’t I be?”
“Just a general inquiry,” he smiled and took note that her long hair was shorter, still long to the shoulder but trimmed up from where it used to lay down her back. “When did you cut your hair?”
“Cut my hair?” she frowned, one hand going up to ends of her tresses. Once she realized it was indeed a good two inches shorter she got very confused. “How odd.”
Charles considered the implications and asked, “Marie, has anything else ‘odd’ occurred lately?”
“No,” she shrugged and went back to cutting the vegetable that’s technically a fruit, but then paused, “though, now that I think of it. Somehow I got Betsy’s or Jean’s clothes mixed up with mine in the laundry, must be theirs, it’s much more risqué than anything I would wear. I keep meaning to ask them about it…” she trailed off, shaking her head as if something was bothering her but she didn’t know what.
“Have you been over-tired lately,” he ventured, “as if you haven’t gotten enough sleep?”
“Now that you mention it,” Marie frowned again, “but it’s nothing. You’d think I’d be used to dealing with kids all day,” she laughed slightly, “but every job isn’t without its challenges.”
“Of course,” Charles did not like what the evidence was adding up to, “well, I will leave you to your preparations.”
“Later, Professor,” she said nicely but it was obvious something was bothering her by the crease in her brow.
Turning his wheelchair around, Charles decided he needed to speak to JP as soon as possible and was in the process of sending the man a telepathic summons when something flew dangerously past him. He instinctively dodged his head to the side though it was obvious it wasn’t intended to hit him as the sharp bladed knife impaled itself in one of the pillars separating the kitchen from the serving stations.
Quickly he swung his chair around to see Marie leaning over the cutting table, her jaw set and sure, nothing of the timid Marie in her eyes.
“Aurora,” there was no mistaking the difference between the two women even though they shared the same body. Every inch of Aurora was power without a hint of insecurity.
The few people in the kitchen, the cook and the kitchen duty students, had all paused, not knowing what to do. He sent them a general calming message, he would handle this.
“Back off, old man,” Aurora said simply but dangerously.
“You know we can’t do that,” he did not show her any fear, “we want to help you.”
“Fucking bleeding hearts,” she rolled her eyes, crossing her arms, “always think you know best.”
“Marie and Aurora cannot co-exist,” he told her pointedly, “eventually the illusion will break and Jeanne-Marie will have to deal with whatever caused this. I think you know that.”
“Everyone thinks they know what’s best for Marie,” she gave him a disgusted look before turning harsh, “but no one knows her better than me,” she leaned against the table again, her eyes as cold as steel, “this is your only warning, leave… us… alone.”
Charles was about to retort but Aurora slumped and blinked rapidly for a moment. She glanced around the table, “Where’d my knife go?”
…
“How can Aurora be aware of Marie,” Scott asked the obvious question, “but Marie not aware of Aurora?”
“For all our research and advances in the past few decades,” the Professor sighed, “the brain is one of the least understood parts of the human body. At this point we likely know more about Mars than we do how the mind works, especially one which has Mutation Induced DID.”
“Aurora has a sense of self-preservation,” Jean pointed out to the team gathered around in the conference room, JP standing at the window, “she came out when the Professor realized the museum wasn’t an isolated event and Aurora must be sneaking out of the mansion.”
“Wait, what?” Bobby asked.
“None of us are missing any clothes,” Jean explained the logic, “Marie has never left the School by herself, so if she’s getting extra clothes she must be going out and buying them, not mention getting her hair cut, that was a professional job.”
“Does she even have any money?” Kitty was the one to ask.
“Yes,” JP spoke up, “Department H paid well and there was no time to spend it, so we stored it in an offshore account. Aurora must know Marie’s banking information,” he turned towards the group, “but the real question is, how is she getting out unnoticed?”
The team glanced around at each other, then Scott admitted, “Marie was never considered a risk before. She’s an adult, it’s the kids we don’t want sneaking out or the Brotherhood getting in. Plus I imagine her time in Department H taught her a few things.”
“So we put a stop to it then,” the twin crossed his arms in a move very reminiscent of Aurora.
“That ain’t the wisest idea,” Logan spoke up. “Aurora has self-preservation, as Red said, which means if we start encroaching on her ‘me’ time, she’s gonna get real testy and her throwing knives will be the least of our troubles.”
“We can’t just sit back and do nothing,” JP said hotly.
“We won’t be,” the Professor assured him. “We need to gather more information and see how best to approach both personalities. Antagonizing one of them will do us no good.”
JP looked like he wanted to say something but shook his head, his lips a thin line. It was obvious the man didn’t like the situation, Charles hoped this didn’t affect the twin’s judgment.
…
Rogue went to the library and Quicksilver checked out the local museums and historical locations while Pyro scoured the internet for any sign of the man who was once Gregor Fuchs.
The buildings were quaint, volumes upon volumes of old newspaper articles threw dust into the air, and Quicksilver broke the land-speed record for using a Microfiche machine.
Each where doing their part to unravel a mystery and find a man who made himself lost over half a decade ago.
Avalanche… he went to the local fisherman’s pub and ordered a pint of whatever was on tap.
…
“Professor?” Jean asked as she walked into his office after being summoned.
“Sorry,” he was putting down his phone, “was just speaking to Sean. The boy you picked up in Alaska last week, Chad, is settling in well.”
“I’m glad he decided to go,” she nodded as she thought about it, “Sean really is the best person to teach him how to control his sonic abilities, and Chad seemed like he could use the change of scenery.”
“Alaska for Scotland,” the Professor mused, “he traded one snowy, rocky terrain for another, but yes, it will do the lad good.”
She smiled, always glad when they can help a young mutant, “Is that what you called me in here to tell me?”
“No,” he admitted with a long breath, “I wanted to speak to you about Jeanne-Marie.”
“Yes,” Jean frowned, “her case is almost… mild… compared to the others we’ve seen.”
There was a sadness in the older man’s eyes, “She has only split into two distinct personalities, one powered, one not. The Aurora personality is self-aware to her situation, protective of herself, and seemingly of Marie.”
“Aurora is the one we’ll have to convince to integrate,” Jean nodded, “if we push Marie then Aurora will come out. Unfortunately Aurora doesn’t seem all that personable from what I’ve heard.”
“No, she does not,” he agreed, rubbing his chin.
The redhead asked the all important question, “How do we want to proceed?”
He took a moment to think it over, “We need to make Aurora more comfortable, willing to speak to us, not fight us.”
“How can we encourage her to come out without being combative?” Jean asked as so far the only time the Aurora personality manifested for them was to fight them.
“We encourage her participation,” Xavier started to lay out his plan, “and I’m afraid that falls under the rather generic and horribly archaic term of ‘girls stuff’,” he grimaced in apology and she tried not to laugh, “but if you could find a way to bring out and befriend Aurora, then we could get her talking, nudge her towards wanting to integrate with Marie and return to her core personality.”
“That’s going to be difficult,” she frowned, “to re-merge means to re-live whatever emotionally or physically painful event that caused the break to occur,” she sighed and splayed her hands, “and while it will be better for her in the long run, she will be quite reluctant.”
“It won’t be easy, nor will it happen overnight,” he nodded, steepling his fingers, “it will take patience on all our parts.”
Jean paused and glanced out the window, “I don’t try to pry, but Jean-Paul has been projecting, he’s blaming himself for his sister’s condition.”
“I had noticed that myself,” the Professor grimaced again.
“JP’s a good man,” she sighed again, “but he has a brash streak in him, especially when he thinks he’s lost control.”
“I have told him he must be patience,” he shrugged, “I can only hope he listens.”
“Let’s hope,” she nodded, then creased her brow as a thought came to her, “Professor, Aurora is much like that part of her brother, brash, impetuous, impulsive, only without any measure of control, yes?”
“At this time,” he took a second, “yes, I would call that a good diagnoses.”
“Then if Aurora figures out I’m befriending her… just to get Jeanne-Marie back,” the red head frowned, “then she’s going to take it very… very badly.”
Xavier thought on this, then gave a solemn nod, “Then let us hope you two have more in common than you realize.”
…
There was a full moon out and not a cloud in the sky. It really was a beautiful night on the island paradise, but not one to be enjoyed by the Acolytes.
Pyro sat at the computer while Rogue and Quicksilver poured over several documents. Eventually, Rogue slumped in her seat, “Nothing.”
“Fuchs was either brilliant in covering his tracks,” Pyro frowned as he glared frustrated at the keyboard, “or it was entirely too easy for a person to change their name and disappear in the 50s.”
“Probably a bit of both,” Rogue said wryly.
“No one was looking for him,” Quicksilver sat a log book down, “as I said, lowly lab tech.”
“Then why does Magneto think he’s important?” Sure, there was a lot of coincidence surrounding the man, but at the same time… who ever even heard of this guy?
“There’s potential here,” Quicksilver told her plainly, “that’s enough.”
It was a fair enough answer that Rogue let it slide for the time being and went back to the estate records she was reading through. A moment later, Avalanche came walking through the front door, looking and smelling just a shade of toasty.
“How was the bar?” Pyro grinned as the larger man slumped down in a plush chair.
“Need to expand their on-tap selection,” he propped his feet up, “but not a well-drink in sight, I’ll give them that.”
“Discover anything useful?” Quicksilver said dryly.
“Fuchs changed his name to Kaminski, died in ‘02” he said as if finding this information was no big thing after the other three had spent all day searching only to come up with nothing, “he had a daughter who married a Padua. She passed away two years ago, cancer, had a son named Celso, runs a scuba rental company.”
Pyro went to the computer and immediately started tapping away while Rogue and Quicksilver stared at the man. “You got this from the bar?” she really shouldn’t have been surprised by that.
“Old men,” he shrugged, “they always have something interesting to say, just have to listen.”
“We need to search his home,” Quicksilver started to put away the documents he had liberated from one of the museums, “we can look up where he lived.”
“Don’t bother,” the Greek waved them off, “his home burned down in ’76, moved onto a boat. That’s since been sold to one of the men at the bar. He says he stripped her bare to restore her and found nothing odd or of interest. I believe he spoke the truth.”
“Got it,” Pyro interrupted, “Celso Padua, owner, operator, of Coral Bay Divemasters, oh,” his head popped up, “half price diving lessons with a five day scuba equipment rental.”
“No idea if he knows anything about his grandfather’s history,” Avalanche admitted.
“One way to find out,” Quicksilver looked over at Rogue.
Sighing, “If he’s not a mutant then there’s no power buffer,” she considered the mechanics of her mutation, “I can’t hold on long enough to dig around without hurting him, I need him thinking about his grandfather so I can follow the memory chain.”
Quicksilver nodded, understanding Rogue’s limitations, “You want us to kidnap him?”
“And absorb his pain and fear at the same time,” she pulled a face, “no thank you.”
“Looks like someone’s getting diving lessons,” Pyro was entirely too happy about that.
“No guarantee he’ll be my instructor,” she shook her head then narrowed her eyes as a plan came to mind, “I need a boat.”
…
Jean-Paul watched from the distance as a shadow moved around. It wasn’t hard to figure out how she was getting in and out as, on occasion, she had snuck out of their home when they were teenagers. The window to her room opened and Aurora slid in, landing lightly on her feet. She had her hair up, styled, with a low cut top and skinny jeans, an outfit Jeanne-Marie might have worn but definitely not Marie.
Turning on the light, JP demanded, “Where have you been?”
Aurora stared blankly at him, crossing her arms, “Seriously?”
“You have to stop this,” he stepped up to her, “put yourself back together and bring Jeanne-Marie back.”
“Oh. My. God.” she punctuated every word, “you really…” she laughed then waved her hand around in a circle, “you know what, you can take all this guilt you’re feeling and shove it up your ass.”
“That’s not what this is about,” he defended himself in a fluster.
“That’s exactly what this is about,” she poked him hard in the chest, “you were the reason we were kicked out of the house, you were the one who said ‘let’s join the military’ because you had something to prove,” she hit him hard enough he had to step back, “and you were the one who thought going into the advanced program was a good idea.”
He started to get angry, his sister knowing him well enough to push just the right buttons, “Jeanne-Marie never did anything she didn’t want to.”
“Ugh,” Aurora rolled her eyes, “how could you be so fucking clueless?” she threw her hand up in a ‘don’t bother to answer’ gesture, “just, go away,” she gave a dismissive wave, “leave us alone, you’ve done enough damage already.”
She turned to leave and he became incensed, grabbing her by the shoulder and turning her towards him, “Now listen, Aurora—”
“Jean-Paul,” his sister’s facial and body language completely changed from confident warrior to meek mouse, her eyes wide in terror, “stop it, you’re hurting me.”
In his horror, he released Marie, “I’m sorry…” the words were hollow in his mouth. This woman, Marie, wasn’t his sister either, but she was scared and frightened and it was all his fault.
“What…?” she looked down at herself, tugging at her clothes and trembling as confusion compounded the situation.
“Marie,” he reached out to her but she flinched, pulling back.
“Stay away from me,” Marie ran for the door and bolted out into the hallway.
Jean-Paul followed her but she didn’t go far, only two doors down to Jean’s room. Marie knocked rapidly and the telepath opened the door to have a crying Marie fall into her arms for protection. Jean looked up at Jean-Paul and it didn’t take mind-reading skills to see the question in her face…
What did you do?
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