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A New Mutants fanfic by Icon_UK

Setting - Post Schicm, when the original New Mutants were living on their own in a house in San Francisco

Genre - Silly fluff

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Based on a silly random exchange a while back, and with special thanks to @selfsoulfriend for a frankly irresistible addition to the story. Thanks pal!

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It started, as such things often do, in the aftermath of a “family dinner”.

They weren’t technically family of course, but they had worked as a team for so long, and as classmates before that, that at least once a week they tried to have a communal meal, “Family dinner” was the nickname that Sam had given it one time, and it has sort of stuck.

By special arrangement with X-Men, Illyana was even allowed out of her jail cell on “day release” for these, under the watchful eye of the New Mutants, who shared responsibility for her actions. Since her old team were about the only people still speaking to her since the Legion debacle she didn’t push her luck, well not too much.

Cooking and cleaning were done in shifts and no one argued with one of Dani’s duty rosters (Not twice, at any rate), and whoever had duty for family dinner night could interpret it as loosely as they chose (or thought they could get away with).

Sam rediscovered the natural cook he’d always been, having been responsible for feeding his younger siblings when his Mom had been too busy.

Dani was NOT a natural cook, but tried hard and kept the food simple.

Nate was still adjusting to a world where food was always so freely available, so tended to get carried away, and though he didn’t cook per se, his deli spreads were spectacularly excessive in a “Who knew you could get decadent with cold meats?” sort of a way.

Warlock was excused cooking for reasons too numerous to count, but was always happy to help the others out, as long as his tasks were very clearly defined.

Roberto and Illyana had tended to order takeout when it came time for their turn, Roberto because he had no interest in cooking, only eating, and Illyana was, in truth, banned from using the kitchen following her last attempt at cooking, where some confusion over herbs had led to her stew becoming a semi-accidental invocation to SOMETHING, and which no one talked about by common agreement (No need to worry Cyclops on that score).

Tonight it had been Doug’s turn, and he had wanted to try out a new recipe that Mrs Livitz had given him.

The fact he could speak fluent Latverian (of course) had meant he had become something of a favourite of their elderly neighbour who liked to chat as she cooked, and she had shared old family recipes with him. So tonight had been something fairly unpronounceable (Even to Doug), which Dani been dubbed “Chicken a la DOOOOM!” (Though the “DOOOOM!”” had to be stage whispered in case Mrs Livitz overheard and had a panic attack. Doug had noticed that Latverian exiles were rare and tended to be rather jumpy)

The ideal accompaniment to this rich, spicy chicken casserole was, apparently, a local Latverian beer which had not been available in the US since the 1960’s due to trade embargos.

Doug had been prepared to substitute a domestic beer, but with one of her more innocent smiles, Illyana had summoned a stepping disk and three minutes later returned with a crate containing a couple of dozen bottles. Illyana declared it free of any spells, and Warlock had also checked it for any traces of psychoactive substances or nanotech… with Latveria, you could never be too careful, They’d set a couple of bottles aside for Mrs Livitz, just in case she’d like a taste from the old country,

The cold beetroot soup as a starter had been an unlikely success, the Chicken a la DOOOOM! had been very popular, with everyone wanting seconds.

Afterwards, stomachs full and a few of the (as it turned out, excellent) beers still available, most of the family had sat around the table and the conversation drifted comfortably towards the level of the silly.

Roberto started it…. “So, I see a lot of these secondary mutations around these days. Emma sure has a doozy.“

Amara smirked, “Hard as a diamond? Just reflecting outside what she always was inside.”

“Yeah, what’s up with those, and why don’t any of us have one… no offence Dani”

Dani sighed, “S’okay Roberto, as long as I know I can take you down nine times out of ten in a fight, I’m good. Besides I always thought you already had one…”

“Really?”

“Sure. You have an unerring ability to find a good place to get coffee… We could dump you in the middle of the Sahara (“I could arrange that!” chimed in Illyana) and somehow you’d have found a cold pressed, double espresso within ten minutes.”

Roberto hoisted his bottle and nodded solemnly “True. Such power is a crushing repsonstability, but I try to use it wisely“ (Roberto tended to slur his speech when exposed to any alcohol content stronger than mouthwash. His macho side was always embarassed the next day, but it never stopped him)

Amara joined in again “What about Sam and his books. NO ONE could read ALL of those Dune books as fast as he did. That HAS to be a secondary mutation.”

“Ah wish!” said Sam wistfully “Ah’d give a lot for a gift like that. Still doing it the hard way, one page at a time…”

“Oh how you suffer”

“Have you read the later Dune books? Sufferin’ ain’t the word.. Though you’ll notice that Amara NEVER has to wait in line at a checkout… EVER!”

Amara beamed, “That’s actually my PRIMARY mutation, I just generate a little extra heat around me, and people get uncomfortably warm and move away”.

 

 

Dani nodded respectfully, “That’s either blatant abuse of a mutant gift, or utter genius… not sure which.”

“Next time you’re in a hurry at the grocery store and there’s seven people ahead of you, you can decide.”

Dani  continued “…and as for Nate’s amazing ability to make any shirt he gets given disappear, well, perhaps the less said about that the better.”

This time Amara and Illyana clinked bottles

Nate looked genuinely puzzled… “But I keep all the shirts. They’re in a box in my room.”

Amara and Illyana chugged the bottle and cheered raucously.

Doug came back in from the kitchen where he’d been filling the dishwasher.. or convincing Warlock not to impersonate the dishwasher… it varied from moment to moment, as did Warlock, which really didn’t help.

“So what profound subject is the topic of discourse tonight then?”

“Secondary mutations”, offered Nate helpfully.

The other members of the team exchanged looks, and, smiling broadly shouted “THE HAIR!” in unison. This time Sam and Roberto clinked bottles. Only Nate had the good grace to look slightly abashed.

“What?” Doug’s hand went up to his blond hair automatically, and everyone else dissolved into giggles.

Doug eyed his team-mates curiously attempting, and failing (even with his enhanced abilities), to read the room, too many signals… “Ooooh-kay… can’t really let that one slide, though I think I might be happier if I did.”

Roberto gestured expansively “We’re discussing the incidences… incidenceses of secondary mutations, and we all KNOW you’ve got one.”

“Not that I know of, some people barely consider my powers a primary mutation”

Roberto snorted. “You can’t fool us, we know that hair of yours HAS to be a mutation.”

Doug forced a smile and whispered, “How many beers has ‘Berto had?”

Sam grinned “Three… but you know he’s a lightweight. Even so though…”

Dani joined in. “You can tell us Doug. Honest, we won’t judge.”

Doug leaned out the door and called out “Warlock, are you SURE the beer checked out clear for extra chemicals?”

“Affirmative Selfsoulfriendcypherdoug. Usual alcohol related toxins only.”

“I was afraid of that. Okay…. Why would you even THINK my hair was a mutation?”

Dani grinned “Because we KNOW it is.  Now… for the purposes of this exercise, do you have a comb about your person at this moment?”

Doug frowned… “No, I don’t normally carry one”

“I rest my case”

“What?”

“Look at that hair, there’s no way that naturally fell into place like that. You’ve spent the last three hours in the kitchen and it doesn’t even look mussed. Still the perfect hair swoop”

“Hairswoop? Is that even a thing? I don’t think that’s a thing.”

Roberto was not going to be left out. “We’ve all seen you get up in the morning, and I swear you come out of your bedroom with “haystack in a hurricane”, and it’s “salon perfect hairswoop before you even reach the bathroom.”

Doug just gave him a look, “You watch me when I walk to the bathroom in the morning?”

“Now you’re delfecting… I mean deflecting… and no, not on purpose… if that helps. But as you said, when it comes to weirdo mutations, you led the field from an early age.”

“I don’t think I phrased it quite like that.”

“Close enough.”

“Right, I am now going to back carefully away from you crazy people, and go back to the kitchen, where the very black, very strong, very caffeine-saturated coffee is brewing. And I am going to suggest that you fill your mouths with that, and my frankly spectacular caramel pecan muffins (Roberto sniggered, but Doug let it one pass without comment) rather than this crazy talk? Anyone else want to agree on that?”

This met with generally positive cheers.

As he headed back to the kitchen Doug caught his reflection in the hallway mirror. An errant strand of hair the others hadn’t noticed caught his eye and he glared at it. It flattened itself down, and tucked itself back into the “hair swoop” (He’d remember that phrase, he liked it). Contented, he continued on to the kitchen.“Hair control” was a bizarre idea for a secondary mutation, but when you get a chance to rebuild your entire body from the ground up thanks to the technorganic virus, it would seem silly not to avail yourself of the opportunity for a couple of… minor improvements, and all that messing around with a comb was a shocking waste of time.

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The Appeal Process
An X-book fanfic by Icon_UK

This work is completely unauthorised. No permission has been given, no offence has been intended.

This was written around the turn of the century, literally, so nearly every single aspect of it has been repeatedly superceded by events, but it remains my first proper fanfic, and I always had a soft spot for it.

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"So, Douglas Ramsey of Earth 616, We understand you'd like to appeal against your death sentence."

"Yes your Fairness"

"Normally We would say something about this being 'Most irregular", but frankly, given your... genetic predisposition, We are actually a little surprised that it took you this long."

The setting was a trifle odd to say the least. The Courtroom itself was vast, though this was perhaps exaggerated by it's significant lack of walls, only misty clouds and starry depths seemed to be supporting the all too solid looking ceiling several hundred feet up. It all looked very cosmic.

The decor was classically simple with lots of white marble. Gold and jet tiles in the floor gave the appearance of a rather luxurious chessboard.

Seated behind a table just in front of the towering desk of the Judge, which would have dominated any, for want of a better word, chamber except this one, was a blond boy in his late teens, wearing what appeared to be an exotic black and yellow ski suit which meant, coincidentally, he complemented the rooms decor rather well.

Seated at the desk was the his/her Supreme Fairness, known to all as "The Judge", a faintly glowing humanoid figure in long red robes and a long, powdered wig. It's features and voice tended to shift and change as you looked at it. Sometimes it was male, sometimes female, sometimes black, sometimes white, sometimes oriental. It was less a being, and more a concept, epitomising the justice of a world and its many peoples over aeons of time.

The blond boy spoke. "Well, your Fairness, my mutant ability was both passive and mental in nature, and I didn't have a healing factor, so the usual channels weren't much help"

"No healing factor? Now that IS unusual. And "the usual channels"? Ah yes of course, the Xavier Protocols as We believe some wit in Records has taken to referring to the files."

"Yes, your Fairness, and on top of that, my cause of death was a bullet wound caused by a standard handgun."

"A handgun? Not plasma energy blasts of indeterminate nature?"

"No, your Fairness."

"No large buildings falling on you, or similar explosions, making recovery of the body impossible?"

"No, your Fairness"

"Mysterious other-dimensional forces at work?"

"Not that I was aware of, your Fairness, I was rather preoccupied bleeding to death at the time."

"Quite. Hmmmm... Time-displaced mutant assassins from potential dystopian futures causing paradox by the very nature of their being and intent?

"No"

"No alien intervention perhaps?"

"No your Fairness. Just a deranged human with a gun."

"Ummmmmm.... Are you in any way related to the Summers family? Lost twin? Chronologically displaced cousin? Third Uncle twice removed and not due to be born for a thousand years?"

"Not that my parents ever mentioned."

"Hmmmm...." The Judge said again, genuinely nonplussed "Are you QUITE sure you're a mutant, Mr Ramsey?"

"Yes, your Fairness. Actually, I checked the records and I couldn't find any other examples like mine, nearly all of them had am obvious way back. Anyway, having found nothing recently I went back further and found what I think is reasonable grounds. Article NM 52, Section 5, Sub sections 4 through 7."

"Article NM eh? We're rather surprised you were able to read those files, they do date back to pre-Babel days."

"Babel? Is he a mutant too? Cool name."

"No Mr Ramsey, THE Babel, Genesis... Chapter 9.. Tower.. Wrath of God etc etc. Remember where you are."

"Oh, THAT Babel, sorry. Anyway, the scrolls weren't a problem, my power lets me translate anything given a little time. This was nothing compared to Dire Wraith or Old Asgardian."

"Really?" The Judge looked interested and leaned forward in a semi-conspiratorial manner, "We've been having a little trouble with the instructions for installing Our Windows 98 upgrade, We wonder whether you might...."

"Sorry, your Fairness, my power's good, but it's not THAT good."

"Oh well, it was worth a try. By the way, We wouldn't mention Asgard again if We were you, it's something of a faux pas to mention other pantheons in situations like these."

"Now, let Us see..."; the Judge pulled a scroll out of thin air and pored over it, "Here we are, Article NM... Section... Sub section... Mm-hmm 'Reanimation caused by a pre-mortem infection of an organic life form by alien techno-organic transmode virus'? Is that the part you are referring to?"

"Yes, your Fairness"

"We have to hand it to the Babel boys, they certainly were THOROUGH in preparing their 'Eventualities' list. So you claim to have been so infected, Mr Ramsey?"

"Yes your Fairness. I also claim that I was left waiting for processing by the Afterlife Commission for too long. A prompt return could have been arranged with little or no fuss, continuity -wise. But bureaucratic delays meant that by the time I was accepted it was
too late to return."

"Not an uncommon complaint We must admit. What was the problem with the delay?"

"I'd been enbalmed, your Fairness."

"Ah! A tough one that We agree! Now let's see." The Judge consulted his notes. "Saved entire Earth on at least two occasions, defended planet against alien invasion, died saving the life of a friend. Selfless gestures and heroic acts aplenty. We've even had a character reference from Merlyn! It seems you helped out in a rather complicated case he was working on, you volunteered to help a Miss Katherine Pryde and her friends out I believe."

"Well..... Yes and no."

"Would you care to elaborate?"

"Well it DID happen but apparently it didn't happen too. Merlyn did sort of a flight simulator thing inside some guys head and asked me to get involved because it would help Kitty out. It never happened in real space/time though."

"All the same, you were prepared to help out?"

"Oh, absolutely.."

"Well, hmmmm.... that should still count We believe, Merlyn so rarely gives good references, you should _hear_ what he says about Arthur! Now to business, have you seriously considered the
implications of your return Mr Ramsey?"

"Did any of the other mutants in cases like this, your Fairness?"

"A valid point, but you are a rather an unusual case.... for a mutant. Your death actually satisfies the Gruenwald Laws of Mortality; Your cause of death was quite explicable. Your death was seen by reliable witnesses, the body was recovered and you were declared dead by a qualified medical examiner in ideal conditions. Returning would not be easy and might have serious implications for those who knew you. The Continuity Police would have hysterics for starters."

"However, it is not Our intent to prevent the due processes of justice. To that end We propose that you survey the world as it is now, to ensure that you would still be able to fit in, should We choose to recommend a dispensation for you. Fortunately We have a specialist in such matters available for consultation. Call Mr Jordan."

A dapper-looking middle aged man entered from a doorway that had appeared from mists rising up from the middle of floor. Wearing a well cut suit, he carried a clipboard and a large leather bound book with him. If there was an gene for quiet efficiency, it was fairly obvious he had been overly endowed with it.

"Mr Jordan is our special facilitator with Earth/Heaven jurisdiction disputes and has a lot of experience in cases such as yours. We suggest you journey with him, whilst We consider your application... Mr Jordan, if you would be so kind. Court is adjourned for multi-dimensional analysis and consideration of due process."

"Yes, your Fairness.. Please come this way Douglas."

As the two figures walked though the doorway and disappeared, mists rose again and the entire doorway vanished.

- - -

Doug found himself in a long corridor, made out of white marble. Hanging along both walls were picture frames, each filled with rolling clouds.

"Experience has shown that this can be quite a painful experience emotionally speaking. That's why I don't recommend you viewing your parents, I have already done that separately as it can be quite upsetting for the individual. This is more of a chance for you to see your peers... I have to ask though, were you emotionally involved with any of the people you wish to see."

"One or two... Three tops."

"That's normal for a person your age I suppose. Well we'll leave them to later. Shall we start with an easy one?"

"Okay, how about the New Mutants? They were the team I was with when I.. passed away."

Mr Jordan consulted a note in his clipboard. "I'm afraid that they don't exist anymore. The team disbanded some time ago."

"What happened to everyone?"

"Well, according to this they went their separate ways but one of them went on to lead a new group. Would you like to see them"

"Please, this should be interesting...

The mists in a nearby frame became more active and started to clear, revealing a perfect three dimensional image of a group of oddly dressed people, apparently in the middle of some sort of combat exercise.

"Good grief! Who is that big guy, the one that's built like a concrete outhouse?"

Mr Jordan looked pained. "Please Douglas, we only have until the end of time up here. Suffice it to say that Mr Cable would have been your Headmaster had you stayed around the mortal coil."

"Boy, I'll bet gym class was compulsory with HIM in charge."

"No doubt."

"And doesn't he seem to have any feet, his legs just sort of fade out into nothing?"

"Maybe it's part of his mutation, Douglas."

"Hey, can we zoom in on this thing, track that fireball in the sky if you can."

The picture expanded to focus on the individual form, a young man in a purple and white bodysuit and a flying helmet.

" WOW! The Sam I knew was really tall and skinny. He was built like a string bean, when did he get so.. buff? And what happened to his colour sense? Lilac? I like the aviator goggles though."

"Trust me Douglas, if poor dress sense is the worst thing you come across, you'll have it easy compared to most mutants. Samuel certainly seems to have adjusted to his current lifestyle leading a group ... X-Force I believe they're called."

"_Force_? Doesn't sound like Sam's style, they're a new one on me. Still, it's nice to see that he made full team leader. He was only co-leader of the New Mutants"

"His leadership skills come partly due to a re-dedication to his cause following your death."

"Would my coming back change that?"

"I doubt it, Samuel seems to be a most... dedicated person anyway."

"Then he hasn't changed much either. Good. Okay, so that's Sam. Now, who next. How about Dani Moonstar, Mirage. She was the other team leader."

Mr Jordan looked at his list, "Hmmmm, how odd. A slight territorial conflict here. Your friend is currently somewhere in Asgard, which containing an afterlife in and of itself outside my jurisdiction."

"Oh right, Dani and her whole Valkyrie harbinger of Death thing again."

"Her WHAT!"

"She was a part time Valkyrie."

"I wasn't aware that the Valkyrior accepted part time employees."

"Well, it was more of an extra-credit after-school activity thing. She was chosen by the Valkyrior to be one of them and that's not the sort of offer it's wise to refuse. Winged horse, Death perception, the whole thing."

"If I might perhaps make a rather tasteless comment at this time; Her death perception doesn't seem to have helped you much does it?"

"Oooh yeah, and believe me, I'm gonna ask her about that at the first available opportunity! Okay, now how about.. Magik? Illyana Rasputin"

Mr Jordan gestured towards another frame and the mists swirled. They parted again, then flowed back, then parted. The image beyond was hazy and rolling. After a short time a moving finger appeared and sketched, in letters of fire, "Normal continuity will resumed as soon as sanity is declared." and having writ, moved on.

Mr Jordan frowned and looked once again at his clipboard, a roll of print-out paper unravelled and trailed across the floor. His worked his way quickly through the list.

"Douglas, I try never to make value judgements about another persons friends, but you seemed to have moved in VERY strange circles. But even I should perhaps have expected some problems with this one. For starters 'Magik' ceased to exist some time ago at the age of fifteen, and then later died aged about five."

"Oh no! You mean Illyana died? What happened?"

"From the rather rambling notes I have here, the 15 year old Magik you knew was a temporal anomaly, who became infected with something called the Legacy virus, then ceased to exist, reverting to her natural five year old self, and then died of a disease she wouldn't catch for another ten years, biologically speaking. At least I THINK that's what it says. The tenses become a little confused about this point. And there seems to be some jurisdictional problems with her soul. When she was older she was 3/5 committed to evil, but that was retroactively erased, but her actions still existed. They'll be arguing that one till kingdom come. It's true what they say about Lawyers going to... the other place. She's comfortable in the meantime though, on a sort of metaphysical bail-bond it seems."

"Poor Illyana, is there anything I can do to help, does she have visiting rights or something?"

"I don't know. A nice gesture though, I'll look into that later Douglas, never fear. Now, who's next?"

"Well, that's most of the team worked out except for a couple. Sunspot? No, Bobby and I never really hit it off, might as well be honest about that. How about Magma? She left the team just before my accident, but it'd be nice to see what she's up to. Her real name was Amara Juliana Olivia Aquilla."

Mr Jordan flicked through his notes, then again, then back yet again, a frown on his face.

"Are you sure about that name Douglas, I have a Magma, but the name here is Allison Crestmere, an English girl. There's no Amara Juliana Olivia Aquilla here". He got the name right on the first attempt, which impressed Doug no end, most people had the decency to stutter over it at least once.

"The Magma I knew was the daughter of a Senator in Nova Roma, a lost tribe of the Roman Empire in the Amazon."

"You say that _so_ casually Douglas."

"I had a short life, but a weird one. Maybe it's someone else, another mutant who just uses the same name. It happens all the time I expect."

"Well, there is more than one Magma, but only one mutant by that name; Adolescent female? Blonde? Shifts into glowing yellow magma-form and can manipulate earth and lava mentally?"

"Well, yes, that does sort of sound like her.."

Something fluttered out of Mr Jordan's copious notes and he snatched it before it could hit the ground. He read it carefully "Whoops! This is a note from the.. Gracious me, the Retcon Authority. We so rarely hear from them in mutant cases. Normally their reality is convoluted enough without the need of such intervention. Hmmm..." Mr Jordan scanned the note carefully.

"The girl you knew as Amara apparently IS this Allison Crestmere, daughter of the British Ambassador. She and her entire city were the construct of an immortal being named Selene. It seemed she kidnapped people and then mentally reprogrammed them to think they were part of this Nova Roma colony. Her memories were recently returned to her and well, that's more or less where she is at the moment."

"But that makes no sense!"

Mr Jordan's tone was weary "So little in this case does Douglas, so little in this case does. Well, since she doesn't seem to have memories left from her time with you, her case is more or less irrelevant, wouldn't you say? Next."

Doug only thought for a moment before deciding; "Psylocke, I'd like to see Psylocke, Betsy Braddock".

Even after all this time he still felt himself start to blush at the mention of her name. Having a crush on a stunningly beautiful telepath ten years older than he had been, and having her return at least some of those feelings had been one of the weirder experiences in his life, but one of the more pleasant. Then his face fell.

"No wait a minute, she died in Dallas with the other X-Men." Doug frowned, strange he hadn't seen her around up Here then.

Mr Jordan looked at his clip board "Care to wager on that Douglas?"

The mists in another cleared to display a beautiful Asian woman with long purple hair. She was wearing what appeared to be several yards of silk bandaging and little else. She was facing half a dozen bikers in an alleyway, and was moving with exquisite grace and fluidity, leaping and vaulting, striking so fast that she could barely be seen. The bikers were going down like nine pins.

"Well, Douglas, I can see why you might want to see her again."

"I'm sorry Mr Jordan, I think there must be some mistake. I asked for Psylocke, but I think your screen is picking up a cable channel. 'Ninja Lingerie Models' maybe?"

"No Douglas, the records state that is Psylocke, Elizabeth Braddock, known as Betsy."

"No offence sir, the hairs almost the right colour, but the Betsy I knew wasn't that skinny, had much better dress sense and was.. well... not to put too fine a point on it, a lot less... Japanese than this lady is."

Whilst still talking, they both found themselves fascinated by what was going on, tilting their heads in unison as the figure on the screen moved. At one point they both winced in reflexive masculine sympathy as a biker received a particularly vicious kick to a highly sensitive area.

Doug paused for a moment, trying to work something out in his head, "Mr Jordan? I confess that I don't know too much about the subject but wouldn't that be a REALLY uncomfortable outfit for a lady to wear after a while? It would ride right the way up her..."

"Mmmmmh? What? I'm sorry, were you saying something?" Mr Jordan pulled his gaze away from the screen with obvious reluctance.. "Ohhh, yes, I see what you mean, I'm um.. sure that it could become a trifle... abrasive, after a while"

There was a rustle of paperwork followed by a long sigh.

"Oh look, what a surprise, her life has been turned upside down as a result of her association with Charles Xavier's School. Some time ago, she travelled through something called the Seige Perilous, had her mind was half wiped and was merged psychically with a Japanese assassin called Kwannon. She has now been cured of this... situation, but remains in the body of Kwannon as her original body has died from the Legacy virus. I swear, if I were alive I'd want the largest aspirin known to mankind right about now."

"Try living it as a lifestyle for a while. It was certainly never dull. Still, it's good to know she's not dead anymore"

Mr Jordan decided not to tell Doug about the fact she never really had been, and that she and the X-Men had "faked" their deaths and emigrated to Australia.

"Let's try... Kitty Pryde... She was my best friend even before I went to the school."

"Somehow, Douglas, that does not lead me to believe that she has settled down and is now living in domestic bliss. Call it a hunch on my part."

The mists cleared, showing Kitty, now slightly older and even prettier than Doug remembered, in a room with Nightcrawler, Brian Braddock, an unhealthy looking man in a black suit with a cigarette in his hand, and a partially obscured figure sitting behind them operating a computer console, a redheaded girl at his side.

"Hey, there's Kurt, and Brian! I saved his life one time. I pulled him off a carousel that would have killed him."

Mr Jordan looked at the huge, massively muscled figure in the image and then at Doug's far slighter frame and decided not to even ask.

"And Rahne too! She and I were.."

"Don't tell me, 'Really close when you were alive.' I have to say Douglas, I admire your taste in the fairer sex."

"She's grown a LOT since I knew her though. And in all the right places too!"

"Ahem Douglas, there's a time and a place for everything. Though given this experience of your friends I wouldn't like to say when."

The figure at the redhead's side turned his head, coming into profile and into a clear view of the picture.

Both Mr Jordan and Doug just stood there staring for several seconds, their jaws hanging slightly open.

"Douglas, I know this has been a long and unusually trying session for both of us, but it does strike me that there is something very strange here, even relatively speaking."

"But that's me....! But I'm yellow... and shiny... Hang on... That's Douglock... but I was Dou... Warlock was Dou... WE were Douglock. WHAT'S GOING ON HERE?"

"You mean you KNOW that.. individual?"

"When I was alive there were a few times I merged my body with one of my best friends, a techno-organic alien called Warlock. We became a joint entity with both of us operating as a unit. We looked like me, but were made out the same stuff as Warlock. We looked just like that guy there. I know I'm up here, I know Warlock's up here, so who is that down there?!"

Mr Jordan pulled out a handkerchief and mopped his brow as he leafed through yet more documents.

"It seems the Continuity Section don't know."

"They don't know? You mean that's a complete stranger?"

"Well not exactly, it seems that there's a bit of debate about what his exact relationship is to you. He has some of your memories and ethical beliefs as a personality template, though he has a mind and soul of his own. It seems he's connected with the Phalanx somehow."

"The who?"

"The Phalanx. Your friend Warlock's people."

"But Warlock was a member of the Technarchy from the Kvtch system. What's with 'the Phalanx'."

"It's probably a Marketing exercise. I must say that if I was an all-conquering star-faring race called the Kvtchian Technarchy, I'd probably try to change my name too, to something that sounded less like a Russian politician."

"And what's Kitty doing with everyone there?"

"She's a member of a new team that was formed after your death. It's called Excalibur, Kurt Wagner and Brian Braddock are both members, and Kitty is currently romantically involved with the skinny one with the bad tobacco habit, Peter Wisdom"

"Really! He doesn't look her type. Still... is she happy?"

"Yes, I believe she is, but frankly I've giving up guessing that sort of thing in this case. Today, yes. Tomorrow? Feh!"

"Well, I suppose as long as it's what she wants. From the looks of things that Douglock person is close to Rahne. I'm good at reading body language, and I don't think they've admitted it to themselves yet. Well, as long as she's happy too, and he/I/whatever treats her right. Otherwise he's in for a haunting he'll NEVER forget."

Doug turned away from the screen, clearly somewhat upset by what he'd just seen.

"Have you seen everything you need Douglas?"

"I think so Mr Jordan. My friends seem to be getting on with their lives quite nicely without me."

"Don't underestimate yourself Douglas. They all remember you with fondness and love, and your actions whilst alive may have helped them achieve some of the happiness they now have. That's something to be proud of, no matter what you decide."

Without looking directly at him, Mr Jordan passed a handkerchief to Doug, who blew his nose loudly.

"Thanks Mr Jordan, that means a lot."

"Good. And now, your decision?"

"If it's all the same with you, I think I'll explain that to the Judge."

"Of course Douglas. I'll be interested to hear your final choice."

They walked towards the doorway that had suddenly reappeared.

"Thanks for the... 'tour' Mr Jordan."

"Not at all, Douglas, happy to help."

+ + + +

A short while later, the young man in the yellow and black uniform stood before the Judge.

"Mr Ramsey. Given your highly commendable activities whilst alive, and the excellent references We have seen in this case, and also bearing in mind the somewhat ambivalent nature of your demise, resulting from the infection prior to your decorporation We are minded to grant your application in this case."

"However, please bear in mind that there would be a penalty involved in this. Having consulted with Mr Jordan, you would return in the form of a cybernetic organism, with various non-recoverable body parts replaced by regenerated techno-organic material. This might mean certain biological anomalies with your life and mentality, and We would advise to avoid your biological family, possibly indefinitely as they have already adjusted to your loss very well.
Would you prepared for this?"

"Actually, your Fairness, I would like to withdraw my application at this time."

"Really? Might We be permitted to ask why you wish to withdraw at this late date, Mr Ramsey?" The voice softened, "Douglas, if it is a matter of simple doubt, then do not worry, there would be a cooling off period before re-incorporation."

"Frankly your Fairness, I've just seen what the world is like at the moment, and I don't think I want to go back there at the moment. I like to think I did my best to make the world a better place when I was on it, I fought megalomaniacs, battled inter-dimensional sorcerers, prevent a Dyson Sphere from double-parking around Earth, sorted my paper before recycling. I even flossed! For what? So a bunch of whacked out maniacs could get involved in some mutant military macho posing competition to see who has the biggest calibre handgun? So the heroes could act as bad as the villains, treating people like dirt in the cause of some sort self-righteous crusade? And those are the people who'd be on MY side. I don't even want to think what the villains are like now."

"These things shall pass Mr Ramsey."

"And at the moment, I'd rather they passed without me your Fairness. Maybe later, when things have calmed down a bit. In the meantime I think I've earned a bit of my Eternal Reward. Might I reapply at a later date, your Fairness?"

"Barring trans-temporal rewrites or cataclysmic dimensional crossover events, We would be certainly be prepared to consider a reapplication at a future date."

"Thank you your Fairness, I'm sorry to have taken up so much of your time."

"Not at all Mr Ramsey, we do have all eternity up here after all. Case closed, pending future re-application!"

The young man turned towards the newly appeared main doors of the courtroom, which swung open to receive him. He stopped beside a lone figure first to shake his hand, Mr Jordan smiled and returned the gesture vigorously.

As he turned back to observe the next case, Mr Jordan heard another voice from just beyond the door, electronic and strangely modulated....

"SELFSOULFRIENCYPHERDOUG! DID THE PROCEEDINGS PROGRESS IN A SATISFACTORY MANNER? SELF WISHED/DESIRED TO ATTEND BUT CHOSE TO RESPECT WISHES TO BE ALONE/APART. WILL SELFSOULFRIENCYPHERDOUG BE RETURNING TO THE EARTH DIMENSION/PLANE?"

"Trust me 'Lock, you do NOT want to know! Let's just say that Earth at the moment is a weird place to visit and I certainly wouldn't want to get reincarnated there. We'll go get an ambrosia shake or something and I'll tell you all about it...."

The voices faded away, lost in the background humming of celestial muzak that filled the hall (It was amazing what Henry Mancini and John Denver could do with an infinite number of angelic voices and an all-harp orchestra).

The Judge looked down a list of cases awaiting It's attention, checking them of as It went.

"Hmmm... James Buchanan Barnes.. Good grief.. Not him AGAIN! Irene Adler? Well if _she_ didn't see it coming, she's got no one to blame but herself... Jason Todd? Now how did HE get on Our books? Ahhhhh! A class action brought by a group who call themselves 'The Hellions' of Earth 616, citing Temporal Anomaly Clause 5; Assassination by time-displaced entity from a probable non-linear future."

"Oh thank Here for that, a simple case! Very well, We will proceed after lunch. Court is adjourned."

The End
icon_uk: (Katie Cook Doug)
Recovery

 A New Mutants/X-Verse fanfic by Icon_UK

Magneto had to admit that Scott Summers had flaws, many, MANY flaws, but when it came to devotion to cataloguing reports he was in a class of his own.


The Necrosha event was over, but Scott had insisted on debriefing and collation of reports from all parties as soon as possible, just in case some overlooked aspect came to light that required prompt action. He could hardly be faulted for that, but this event had been more emotionally draining than most, with many of the teams having to face lost loved ones in combat.

Magneto had dutifully completed his own report about his involvement, the dealing with of the revived Proteus, a sorry business, and was now reading the rest. He was exhausted, and wanted nothing more than to sleep, but shared Scott’s commitment to making sure everything really was over.

He paused a little before picking up the file that Sam and Dani had submitted, it was foolish he knew, but he still felt a certain proprietary pride in the New Mutants performance. He suspected they would not necessarily appreciate that, and how many of their successes were because of his training, and how many were in spite of his training, he tried not to think about too much.

Sam had always had an excellent writing style. If you were foolish enough to judge him by the stereotypes of his accent you might, for a moment, forget just how well read Sam was, and it showed in the attention he paid to the words he wrote. Magneto had graded enough of their papers to spot the paragaphs where Dani had added in her own, rather more colourful, turns of phrase.

As he leafed through the record he felt a scowl spreading across his face as his anger mounted. Not at the New Mutants, but for what Selene had done, resurrecting the Hellions had been in poor tastes, but DOUGLAS as well?

Magneto had long since given up any faith in a benevolent supreme being and had seen too much of the human capacity for evil to feel the need for a devil, but in that moment he commended whatever passed for Selene’s soul to the foulest demon that could lay claim to it.

It was hard reading, and he almost put the report down until he had calmed down, but kept reading, he owed the New Mutants that much. He was actually dreading reading the end of this battle, as he suspected he knew what would happen.

It was about two pages later that he stopped dead, and carefully went back and re-read the whole page again.

His cloak flew from where he’d hung it on the door and barely had time to settle on his shoulders before he launched himself out the window. He didn’t NEED the cloak to fly, but the more metallic material he had near him the faster he could move and he wanted to move FAST.

Two seconds later, anyone in the flight path between Magneto’s quarters and the Med Lab felt a twinge in their fillings as his magnetic field flared.

Less than fifteen seconds later he landed outside the medical building. He pulled his EM field inwards again so as not to disturb any of the delicate equipment inside, but he still floated down the corridor at high speed and anyone in hid path was pushed forcefully, but as gently as possible, out of his way (Annoying medical staff was always a bad idea).

He stopped at the isolation ward, landed gently and paused. Suddenly uncertain, he looked through the window in the door and saw what he had never expected to see. Sitting up in bed, looking the picture of health, was Doug Ramsey. He seemed a little older than when he had last seen him, and his hair was longer, but where magic was concerned anything was, apparently, possible. A bank of machines (probably Forges work, judging by how ramshackle yet functional they looked) were around the bed, and he had what were probably monitoring devices attached to him.

Warlock was by his side, which came as no surprise, and Danielle and Sam standing to one side as if still trying to assess things. Roberto was noticeably absent, probably with Amara, whose attack, by Douglas (whilst under Selene’s control), had also been outlined in Sam’s report.

No one seemed to be talking, well, Warlock might be, but he often forgot to make his mouth move in time with the words he was speaking, if he remembered a mouth at all. He could tell Douglas was taking everything in though, his gaze was, slightly different somehow, barely blinking, his eyes roving everywhere; at his friends, at the machines, and most often, at Warlock, as if looking for meaning… and probably finding it, Magneto mused. Doug’s eyes finally alighted on Magneto, and he smiled as if completely unsurprised, and motioned for him to come in.

Magneto was not used to being given permission like that, he GAVE permission, but felt he could make an exception under these circumstances. He pushed his way through the door.

“I honestly never thought that I would see this day! Douglas, it is SO good to see you again.”

“Headmaster”

“Now there’s a title I haven’t held in a very long time.”

“A title still has some meaning for me, and for you too… or so I perceive.”

His speech was also different, a little more stilted, as if taking a little more time to decide which words to use. But it was still unmistakably him, and he was right too.

He gave the quirky smile that Magneto remembered, usually when about to make a truly bad joke.

“Sorry I was late, sir.”

Magneto winced slightly, he should have seen that one coming.

“You’re not late any more Douglas, but don’t let it happen again.”

“No sir.”

Magneto nodded perfunctorily, did the same to the other New Mutants (who returned the gesture), and turned away to leave, before he might lose control of his composure.

“I’ll just go and check with the medical staff about how long you’ll be in here. Then I’ll be back and we can… talk”

“Yes sir”

As he left, Magneto paused for a moment and leaned against the corridor wall. He knew that he should see the bigger picture, see the loss of life, and pain, and wasted potential that Selene had inflicted on the world, but now, just for a moment, no matter how selfish it might be, he was grateful to the Universe at large that he had had one of his lost charges return.
icon_uk: (Katie Cook Doug)
Not sure if this counts as fanfic or headcanon, but I won’t let that stop me.

Shortly after arriving at Xaviers, and discovering the extent to which he really COULD make the Danger Room do prretty much anything, Doug started a nice little sideline in customised Danger Room scenarios. Not for money, but for occasional good will gesture, surprise present or as a swap for doing chores, it came in very handy, and some of it counted towards his final exams.

Sam - Sam had a surprisingly long list of his favourite sci-fi novel environments, all neatly listed and ranked in order of desirability. Despite the fact he’d actually been to a Dyson Sphere, his favourite remained a recreation of Larry Niven’s Ringworld… Doug even threw in some Kzin and a Pierson’s Puppeteer to accompany Sam on his explorations.

Dani - Didn’t take Doug up on his offer for a long time, but after she bonded with Brightwind, discovered that even a faux Asgardian environment made Brightwind happier, so Doug was able to go wild designing some Asgardian architecture castles and plains.

Berto - Though Doug turned down a few semi-harem scenario requests, there was more than one World Cup Final which had R DaCosta as a Brazilian foreward. In one case, all the other players were allowed to mimic Sunspot powers (and the ball was indestructible), so that Berto could cut loose with his powers with a clear conscience.

As a planned Christmas present from the team, Doug designed an entire “Magnum PI” role play game specifically for Berto, so that everyone in the scenario treated him as they would Magnum himself. Due to Doug dying just before that Christmas, the rest of the team never gave it to him (planning on doing so at a less emotional time) and the program was lost the next the Mansion was trashed. it was only recently, upon his return, that Doug was able to fish a copy out of his personal archive and present it to Berto, who loved it.

Xian - Never actually asked for anything, but Doug took that as a challenge, and eventually presented her with a Vietnamese village, just a small, peaceful place that had never known the war, but one where everyone spoke Vietnamese and Xian could relax whenever she wanted. When he presented it to her, it was the one and only time that Xian ever hugged him.

Amara - Having heard so much about it in Nova Roma texts, Amara was particularly keen to see what Ancient Rome would have looked like. It’s true that Doug may have taken a few liberties, there was a LOT of Ben Hur in it, and throwing in a simulacrum of Asterix and Obelix fighting Ceasar’s Legions might have been a step too far, but Amara took it in good part (and joined in).

Illyana - As a teleporter who had her own (admittely hellish) dimension that responded to her moods, Illyana never felt the need to indulge in Danger Room fantasy worlds. She did apparently have one idea for a scenario which involved the members of three different bands, but when she whispered the details to Doug he turned an interesting colour and explained that if he wasn’t going to program Berto’s harem fantasies there was no way he was going to program Illyana’s, especially as he was pretty sure some of her ideas was both illegal AND physically impossible.

Rahne - Never took Doug up on his offer, but eventually asked that he show her how to use the Danger Room systems herself. It wasn’t until much later that he realised that she’d just wanted to spend time with him. It was some time after that, that she used what he had taught her to replay his death over and over again, trying to find a means of saving him.


Warlock - Since he was a shapeshifter and someone to whom the entire planet Earth was already a weird, fantasy-adventure playground, Doug was really stumped by what to create for Warlock; there seemed to be nothing that he could possibly create for his selffriend that he couldn’t already experience, create or be.

Recreating the Technarch homeworld was not something that Warlock would have enjoyed either, given his memories of the place being all about Magus trying to kill him from the moment of his birth.

That changed after their Douglock fusion, and Doug first saw the world through Warlock’s perceptions. He spent days prgramming and when he finally unveiled it… it appeared to be a dark, three metre long, representation of the infinity symbol, hanging in mid air, and that was it.

The team were baffled, but Warlock, on the other hand, was in raptures. His attempts to explain the sheer beauty, and complexity, and simplicity, and wonder of it, were sort of confusing to everyone. Doug explaining that it was a sort of four-dimensional fractal, mostly using wavelengths of light beyond human visual perception, and replicating various vibrational states of lifeglow, didn’t really help, but it seemed to make Warlock happy and it was his present.

Doug considered this to be his only real contribution to “art”, and the fact that only his selfsoulfriend really understood it, made it particularly special.
icon_uk: (Default)
One of the fun things about Doug Ramsey is imagining someone whose baseline background and standard reactions were entirely weirdness-free having to deal with the assorted nutjob crap that comes with being an X-Mutant and not being quite sure how to handle it.

I had a go a little while back at Kitty and Doug’s first meeting post his resurrection and her return from the space-missile-thing. And a few other ideas cropped up, conversations that we’d never seen that might be fun to visit… so here’s another one….

I’m not sold on the title yet, so might change it

One Simple Rule For Not Dating my Sort-of Surrogate Daughter-Figure

By Icon UK

A Cypher vignette

Characters – Doug Ramsey/The father figure you do NOT want to piss off

As a New Mutant, Doug had met all of the X-Men. Sure, he’d met one or two of themwhilst hanging out with Kitty in his days BM (Before Mutation) there had been a sort of formal introduction using codenames when he and Warlock had been inducted into the team, and he’d been impressed by them.

Rogue spoke cheerily enough (though his newly conscious attention to body language screamed discomfort around strangers, it was odd to see someone who was invulnerable flinch, even minutely)

Storm inspired a sort of awe that he knew the other New Mutants shared.

Nightcrawler had been somewhat disconcerting, what with the blue skin and the yellow eyes… and the fangs… and the pointy tail… and the faint scent of sulphur. However, it was safe to say the sum was a whole lot LESS scary than the sum of the parts, especially when he found out Doug already spoke flawless German… Of course, that mean Doug was already somewhat sick of Kurt popping up next to him with yet ANOTHER German knock-knock joke that no one else would get.

Colossus had been huge and imposing enough when he had merely been Piotr, aka that Russian guy that Kitty had had a serious crush on, but discovering he could turn into an even taller superstrong solid steel form put a whole new slant on potential rivalries, but he had seemed to bear Doug no obvious ill-will.

Wolverine though, had been almost impossible to read, his self-control was so complete that it was actually scarier than the rest of them put together. He had greeted Doug with a firm handshake and a nod… which remained their longest conversation to date. (Roberto had commented later that he’d been impressed Doug had put his hand out to be shaken, Logan tended not to be the tactile sort. Doug admitted he wasn’t sure he’d ever do it again)

A few weeks later Doug was heading towards the computer lab for a study session, balancing an awkward pile of printouts in his arms and a pencil between his teeth. He was a little distracted, picturing a rather vicious software problem to challenge Kitty with, knowing full well she’d have come up with an even nastier hardware problem for him. As such he more or less literally walked into Wolverine turning a corner.

He managed to pull himself back just in time, but the printouts went up in the air and scattered in sitcom fashion.

He stooped to pick them up, and to his surprise, Logan assisted.

“Sorry Mr Logan!”

Logan looked down “You okay kid?”

“Sure Mr Logan”

“Just Logan will do”

“Ummm… if it’s all the same to you, I’ll stick with Mr Logan”

Logan snorted but didn’t pursue the matter. He bent down to pick up another piece of paper.

“So I hear that you and Kitty broke up.”

Well, that was brutally direct…

“Well…. not so much broken up as agreed not to take things any further and stay friends.”

“How you feel about that?”

That was even more brutally direct.. he wasn’t sure quite how to respond.

“Fine?”

“That the truth?”

“What?”

Wolverine cocked an eyebrow at him. “In my experience, when you answer a question like that with a question, you usually ain’t answered the question.”

Doug decided that lying to Wolverine would be a bad, if short, habit to get into.

“The truth? Okay, it SUCKS!”

Where had THAT come from? Still, no point stopping now.

“I wish she had wanted to take things further, I know I did. I put my heart out there and she said no. She was nice about it and all, I guess, but it’s not what anyone who says what I said wants to hear.”

Doug was a little surprised that he’d said all that, but then again, no one else had asked.

“And?”

“And we were good friends before, and we’re good friends now and that makes both of us happy enough. Do I wish we were something more? Sure… but she doesn’t. And if it wouldn’t have made her happy, why would I want to go down that path? And I’m a lucky guy to have Kitty as a friend.”

Logan said nothing for several seconds.

“Good answer“ he said, and walked away.

Leaning against the corridor wall and letting out a long breath to release tension he didn’t even know he’d been feeling, Doug replayed the conversation in his head. He knew Logan was more than slightly protective of Kitty, and wondered what would have happened if he had answered any other way. He had obviously passed a test and had received something akin to a compliment from Wolverine.

It was only MUCH later he wondered about the odds of someone with Wolverine’s assorted super sensitive senses “accidentally” walking into someone like that. He got the feeling it would be a good thing if he pretended that that notion had never occurred to him.
icon_uk: (Default)

Dangit, now I HAD to set one at the grave. Thanks for that nobiliorpomis!

“Look Sheila, there’s another one here.”

“Oh Phillip, they’re beautiful, but so.. strange looking.”

“I think it must be a friend from Xavier’s school who leaves them here.”

“Must be. I know Doug liked computers, but to make flowers out of … circuit boards and wire I think… Why?”

“Maybe they remind them of him. I think it’s rather a nice notion. They’ll never wither or fade.”

From the branches of a nearby tree, a blackbird with a glint of gold tracing it’s wings, watched silently as his selfsoulfriend’s parents departed, leaning on each other. Warlock was pleased someone understood.

icon_uk: (Default)
I’ve never tried a drabble before… it’s a challenging format (and I blame this post… it was going to be set at the graveside, but I changed my mind)

“Again, Sam?”

“Yep Bobby, he’s gone up there every night… then makes that sound.”

“He’s singing lullabies.”

“You sure Dani? Doesn’t sound like any lullaby I know. More like a modem.”

"I asked him. He’s singing in binary. It’s a thing… they used to do.”

“Strange, but it’s… haunting.”

Up on the roof, Warlock reabsorbed the transmitter, and marked off the latest coordinates. He’d try again tomorrow night.

He’d never know if his songs reached their target, but that wasn’t the point. He didn’t want his selfsoulfriend to be lonely, wherever he was. No one should be lonely at night.
icon_uk: (Default)

By Icon UK

Characters – Doug Ramsey/Kitty Pryde

One of the worst moments after his… well, “return” wasn’t really apt, but the English language hadn’t yet devised a word for what had happened to him without using terms associated with religious icons, was when Doug discovered what Kitty wasn’t there any more.

The horrible irony of having managed to come back from the dead, only you find one of your best friends had apparently died in deep space in the meantime was not lost on him.

He still hadn’t contacted his parents yet, and Rahne was a whole different issue, but had hoped that Kitty Pryde, the original other half of the original “Team Supreme” would be there to talk things through with him as they had always been there for each other. He knew she’d stayed in touch with his parents via Christmas cards and the like. Well, she had up until her own… departure.

Now Kitty was back, though stuck in phased form and apparently unable to speak. Which left him the slight issue of what to say. What DO you say to someone who you last saw shortly before you died? Even Hallmark didn’t have a card for that… or did they? He resolved to check it out. The X-Men could have made that a profitable sideline all by themselves.

He ran through some possibilities. He could say something in Shi’Ar… (She liked Shi’Ar, had always said it sounded like birdsong, but had she ever learned it herself?) Hebrew? (She could speak that, but as he was about as Jewish as a pork sausage it might be seen as tacky, or trying too hard to impress). He couldn’t, as he had with Amara, devise a private language for the two of them, since he hadn’t spoken to her yet, and even his somewhat amplified powers needed more than that to work with.

Okay then English it was. (The fact he was relieved by such a simple decision told him how stressed he was about this)

And what should his approach be? Play it cool, just casually walk in as if nothing had happened since the last time he’d seen her, years before. He could feel himself rocking backwards and forwards on his heels just waiting, so doubted his body language would sell that for any length of time. Plus there was the whole “Douglock” thing to get over between them. It hadn’t been Warlock’s fault Lord knows, he hadn’t known, but it would certainly put an odd spin on things between the two of them…

He didn’t want to seem TOO eager either, that would put them both in a very weird place.

The door to the Med Lab opened and he caught his first sight of her. She was floating in some sort of huge aquarium-like tank (his inner geek made a connection to Luke Skywalker in the bacta tank, but she was, thankfully, wearing more clothing) drifting in mid air with her eyes closed. He could tell she wasn’t in REM, but was just relaxing.

Well, that sort of sorted out the problem of his entrance. He walked through the doors before they could shut. He HAD to make first contact now (He made a mental note that he still had to watch that movie. It’s be nice to see Picard and the crew again, but the Borg always gave Warlock nightmares, so maybe not on their usual movie night)

Kitty’s eyes opened as if she were coming out of a doze. She caught sight of him and her eyes widened in shock.

He couldn’t think what else to do, his mouth went dry and his brain emptied. He reacted purely on impulse; He gave her a little wave.

Her expression didn’t change, but she gave a little wave back.

He pointed towards himself, and gave her the thumbs-up. He pointed towards her, gave a querying look, made the thumbs-up again, then thumbs-down, and then a little hand wiggling “so-so” gesture as an alternative option.

She made a face as she thought it over then gave the thumbs-up back.

He grinned.

She smiled.

What more needed to be said?

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