Douglas Adams once wrote an amusing little ditty about teleportation:
"I teleported home one night With Ron and Sid and Meg. Ron stole Meggie's heart away And I got Sidney's leg." Lila might have sung it just to be obnoxious and unsettle her passengers, were she not struggling to keep Gambit and Storm inside the sphere of her teleportation. Something was wrong with her -- she had no doubt of that now, no matter what her thoughts told her to the contrary.
Her jaunts were usually simple things for herself. The more passengers that Lila took along, the less pleasant they became. A handful of New Mutants had been no more disturbing than a roller coaster ride. A slightly larger group of X-Men, going by telepathically implanted coordinates had been just slightly more jarring. This trans-spatial jump was pure agony. If she had to describe the sensation, Lila would've said it was like being spread very thin between the Dyson, Earth, and everywhere else in the universe she'd ever teleported.
A Shi'Ar science officer looked up, hearing her scream. He got only a glimpse of an agonized, glowing earth figure, screaming in pain, before she vanished.
A Skrull janitor in the bowels of the citadel glimpsed Lila as well, arms outstretched, as if reaching for him. He dropped his cleaning equipment and bolted. Lila disappeared.
Aelferris, on the bridge of his smart ship looked up, suddenly. "Lila?" To his horror, Lila appeared outside on the hull of his ship, mouth in a soundless wail of distress. She was gone in a picosecond, before the Kymellian even had a chance to react.
Finally it was over.
Lila could see Earth -- the place she'd intended originally to go. The Mansion -- the destination she'd had in mind. ...thank God... and she let go.
When Lila let go, she, Ororo and Remy were suddenly back on Earth again. Or, more accurately -- above it. Whatever had hurt her -- and made her teleport the single most unpleasant experience Storm could recall -- had destroyed her "aim." They materialized at the very edge of the stratosphere, the mansion a speck beneath them. "Goddess!" Storm cried, and lifted her hands. The winds came, catching her up and with her, Gambit and the unconscious Lila. Her head swam, but Storm clenched her teeth. "I...will... not...falter!" The winds became sporadic and spotty, threatening to fail her entirely and plunge them to their deaths, but Storm redoubled her efforts and the winds returned, lowering them to the ground, if a bit roughly.
"Merde," Gambit whispered, bent over on hands and knees. "What de hell was dat?"
"I fear Lila was -- tampered with -- by the Genoshans," Storm said, bending to lift Lila into her arms. "We shall discover her condition presently when we get her into the infirmary."
Bobby looked up at the sound of the rumbling SNAP that shook the windows of the house. "What the hell was that?" He looked to the others. Somebody displaying a power they hadn't seen fit to tell us about yet? But Jubilee, Sam, Thomas and Maggott looked as surprised as he had.
Then, Jubilee had pulled down her shades to stare into the afternoon sun, and pointed. "Look!"
Along with Sam, Thomas and Maggott, Bobby Drake had looked and seen three figures falling from the sky. "Sam! Go!"
"I'm goin'," Sam had begun, but then one figure had spread her arms, revealing the familiar silhouette of a wing-cape, and their fall had ceased. "Looks like Storm's back," he declared, and turned to run toward the front of the house, rather than blasting. That energy signature didn't look like Ororo's lightnin', though...it looked like... Lila's teleportation matrix?
Jubilee was hot on his heels. "Yeah, and she's not alone. She must've found Gumbo!"
They came out of the woods near the front of the house in time to see the landing. Storm was indeed accompanied by Gambit and Lila Cheney. None of them looked like it had been anything but a long, strange trip. Storm and Gambit held Lila up between them. Gosh, Sam thought, Lila looks like death warmed over.
Remy straightened and froze as his ears detected the sounds of people approaching. He fought down the urge to stagger to his feet and run. Non, damn it...! I been a coward once, an' dat's why I in dis spot now. I gon' stand my groun'. Stormy say she stan' wit' me, an' dat is better than I deserve. He didn't move as the three X-Men approached, except to whisper to Ororo. "Storm..." he bit his tongue to avoid calling her 'Stormy'. "Where ev'body at?"
"I do not know," Ororo replied, as Sam reached them first, having the longest stride. "Sam. Take Lila, if you would, to the infirmary. She has been injured -- and perhaps tampered with."
"Yes'm." Sam took Lila into his arms gently, frowning. His blast field activated and he took off, flying a wide arc and vanishing behind the house.
[~Jean. Jean, my friend. Are you here?~] Ororo placed her fingertips to her temple as she projected her thoughts for Jean.
[~Yes, Ororo. I'm here. You sound terrible.~]
[~It was a difficult trip getting here, Jean. The same could be said for you, my friend. I believe Lila Cheney has been ...molested during her time in Genosha. Her body shows signs of distress, but her mind directly contradicts those. What of you? Is Scott's recovery developing...complications?~]
[~You ...you could say that, Ororo. The wound is healing fine. But...but...he's dying anyway, Ororo. There's a second strain of the Legacy virus ...and Scott's contracted it. We ...we don't know how long he has left.~] In the living room, with a cup of tea, alone, Jean Grey-Summers sobbed, since the others were elsewhere in the house and could not hear her.
[~Bright lady, no...oh, Jean. I am so sorry.~] Ororo caught her breath, then turned to Jubilee and Bobby. "Forgive me," she said to Thomas, with whom she was not familiar. "I must go to Jean at once." She gave Remy's hand a quick, affectionate squeeze, then turned to head for the house at a dead run. Gambit found himself standing with Bobby, Thomas, and Jubilee.
Oh, Lord. Here it come. Remy felt his heart drop into the pit of his stomach as Ororo got distracted, then ran into the house. But he straightened his shoulders and waited for someone to say something.
"Welcome back, Gumbo," Jubilee said, offering him a pat on the shoulder. "C'mon in out of the cold. The house is in an uproar since Marrow came down sick with the new strain of the Legacy virus. We're all getting blood tests. Better take you to the doc or it'll be my cute li'l ass."
Well, Remy -- if you gon' be hones', now de bes' time to be startin'. Fortunately, it took almost no effort for him to look surprised. "Say what? Petite, you gotta be jokin'. De Legacy virus was bad 'nough by itself. You sayin'..."
"I'm sayin' now there's an offshoot. Like Influenza an' influenza-B. An' Marrow's got it. An' Bobby had it, but his body's too cold for it to live in. Hank an' Cecelia are hopin' to make a vaccine out of his blood." Jubilee gave Remy all this information in one burst of words, rapid-fire without a breath. "You're probably fine, 'cause you haven't -- uh -- been here. But better safe than sorry, right?" She took Remy by his hand and led him toward the house.
Scott Summers lay propped up in bed, back in the infirmary, behind plastic. Marrow's bed was in a similar tent of plastic several feet over. He had on his combat visor rather than his ruby quartz glasses. The Summers luck is running worse than usual, he thought. Dr. Reyes and Hank both said that had I been in the pink, my body would've defeated the virus without difficulty. But since my convalescence, I haven't gotten much sun. My optic blasts are at a low ebb, and the solar radiation that charges them would've kept me from contracting the damn new strain.
"Dr. Reyes! Dr. McCoy! Come quick!" Sam's voice was oddly timbred; he was clearly observing the "silence in the sickroom" rule, although his inclination was to yell. Sam cut his blast field, and skidded to a stop, Lila in his arms. She was unconscious, and looked deathly ill herself.
"Sam -- is that...Lila Cheney?" Scott asked softly, then suffered a fit of coughing.
"Yeah, sir...ah mean Scott...it is. Storm an' Gambit brought her here. They said she ran into some bad times in Genosha." Sam carried Lila to the nearest bed, and laid her down, brushing her hair from her eyes. "Don't you worry, Lila. Dr. Reyes an' Dr. McCoy will take care of you."
Cecelia walked out of the test area, braids tucked beneath her surgical greens. Sam blinked; she'd been in her normal clothes last time he'd seen her. "What is it?" She frowned at Lila. "She looks like she's exhausted. I'll have a look at her in a minute."
Hank bounded out of the lab a moment later. "What is all the ruckus? Oh, my stars and garters...!" He held a clipboard in his hand and likewise had changed into surgical greens. "Lila has definitely seen better days."
"McCoy, you can head upstairs and give Jean the results. Get a bite to eat, too. And bring me a Tiger Bar on the way back. Don't argue with me, McCoy. Go." Having said this, Cecelia began a checkup of Lila Cheney with careful scrutiny. She started with the blood test, setting it aside for Hank to process when he returned.
Hank nodded. "Aye aye, Captain," he said, then bounded out into the hall. He seemed in better spirits since it appeared the greater portion of the mansion's residents were not in danger, Sam noticed. Or...maybe, just maybe it's on account of how well he's gettin' along with Dr. Reyes.
Sam sat beside the bed, like a faithful basset hound, blue eyes worried as he turned his attentions back to Lila.
Hank moved through the living room, where he cleared his throat softly.
"Oh come in, Hank," Jean said softly, looking up from where Ororo had wrapped the other woman in an embrace. "That's good news. Thank you."
"Er.. the good news in question being that Jean shows no sign of having contracted Legacy strain 2," Hank said awkwardly. "Hello, Ororo. Good to have you back with us." He beat a hasty retreat toward the kitchen. Jean had made him just slightly uncomfortable since the house's tension level had skyrocketed again. She had overheard him thinking his fretful thoughts just before Cecelia had, without telepathy, figured out that Hank too had contracted Legacy strain 2. She had taken him aside and wept into his fur, then told him she was glad that its progress seemed retarded in him. They had theorized it was the experimentation he'd done on himself to turn himself from a human-looking dexterous mutant to the hyperintelligent blue teddy bear he currently was. Don't be uncharitable, Henry McCoy. Jean was only trying to help. And she doesn't resent me for having a more resistant constitution...really.
Hank proceeded into the kitchen, pausing to catch his breath at the doorway. While he was not advancing in the sickness as badly as Scott -- or Marrow, he found himself tiring easily.
"Hey dere, Doctor."
Hank's brows lifted. In the kitchen was a small assembly. Jubilee sat on the counter. Logan leaned against the counter beside her. Huddled over a cup of coffee was Remy LeBeau, whose face was an unreadable mask. He was the one who had spoken in greeting. "Remy. Welcome back."
"I think the Cajun's expectin' us to gut him in his sleep," Logan quipped, smirking. "Look, kid -- for the last time, we're not gonna take no pound o' flesh outta ya. You fucked up bad in the past once, but it's over already." He shrugged. "So quit sittin' there tryin' to look like a whipped pup, already. It's beneath ya, eh?"
"Our vertically challenged friend has a point," Hank added. "The rest of us think that while it was a terrible thing you did, Gambit -- you have been making an honest effort to atone for that. Only Rogue might say differently, and she -- alas, is not here. We should do something about that, too. She may be sick with the virus as well."
Gambit nodded. When he spoke, his voice shook. "You don' know..." he stammered, "How much dis mean to me. I din' t'ink you take me before if you knew what I done. Dat you takin' me back...merci beaucoup. I can' say it enough."
"Ororo is not a bad judge of character," Hank shrugged with half a smile. "Had you still been the man who sold his soul to the devil, she would never have brought you among us." He clapped the other man on the shoulder. Fortunately, the retarded strain of the virus in me is not communicable, or I wouldn't be wandering the house like this -- I'd be quarantined with Scott and -- lovely young Marrow.
Remy remained quiet, though, as the others came and went out of the kitchen. Bobby, who had accompanied Rogue on her road trip, was cutting a wide, icy swath around the Cajun, making no secret of his distaste for him. "The others may be into all this touchie-feelie, 'I'm okay, you're okay' shit, Cajun -- but I'm watching you. You slip up once, I'll be there. You look at any of us crosseyed, I'll be there. You do anything that isn't strictly on the up-and-up? I'll be there, and I will freeze you solid and kick your head off."
"Fair 'nough," Remy replied evenly, his red-on -black eyes meeting Iceman's hazel ones. "'f Gambit step off de straight an' narrow, it be no less dan I d'serve." He didn't protest the fact that Bobby had lowered the temperature around him until it had to be uncomfortable to the native bayou boy. He merely shivered in silence, accepting the enmity from the other man.
[~"Everybody down to the infirmary now," ~] Cecelia's voice touched everyone's mind, piggybacked on Jean's telepathy. [~ "We have a situation and we probably need to discuss it." ~]
Remy followed out of the kitchen last, and waited for Ororo. As a result, he, the wind-rider and Jean were the last three to enter the infirmary. He squeezed Ororo's hand, and listened, intent, to Cecelia's announcement.
"The tests are done," declared Cecelia, eyes a bit tired. "The final breakdown is like this: Scott and Marrow have full-blown Legacy strain 2. If we get Scott into the sun, his physiology may well rally and fight off the organism."
Ororo gasped, and moved to regard Marrow from the outside of the plastic tenting her bed. "I am sorry, Sarah."
Marrow's only response was to hock and spit a gobbet of blood at Ororo; it splashed messily against the inside of the tent and slid down the transparent plastic, leaving a pinkish trail.
"Bobby had it," continued Cecelia, "but his body is inhospitable to the virus because his natural internal temperature is far lower than human normal. As a result, Legacy strain 2 died, unable to infect him. Unfortunately, we can't make a vaccine from his blood. The effect only works at 60 degrees or lower, and to attempt lowering the body temperature of someone already sick with the virus would be dangerous." Bobby's face fell; clearly he had hoped that he might have held the answer. "Yeah, Drake -- I hoped it would've been that simple too."
"Jubilee's body is also hostile to the virus; the fact that she's pyro-plasmodic results in the virus essentially being incinerated inside her body. Jean has no trace of the virus. Nor Logan; his physiology is likewise hostile to the virus. Trish Tilby is likewise clean. Jeannie, while the virus is apparently less communicable to baseline homo sapiens, your parents will want to be notified they better haul ass down here immediately."
Jean didn't smile at the news. She was on the outside of Scott's tent. "Did you hear that, love? Sunlight may cure you." Scott raised a hand to touch the plastic tent, and Jean held up her hand in response to touch him through the plastic. [~Scott?~]
[~Sorry, Jean. I just noticed we have another unwelcome organism among us.~]
[~Let Gambit alone, Scott. You have your own health to think of, and if Remy were as dirty as you and Warren want to believe he is -- there would be some trace of him using influence on Ororo. She reads clean to me, Scott. And her faith is good enough for me. Is mine enough for you?~]
Scott craned his neck to look around Jean at LeBeau. He removed his visor, revealing two eyes glowing feebly like the dying embers of a fire. They sparked a little, but showed nothing more. Eventually, Scott backed up and laid into the pillows again. It's very hard to have an intimidating stare under these circumstances.
Cecelia did a quick head count, noted Ororo and Remy, and sighed. "Okay, two more tests. But lemme finish. Maggott has not contracted it either. He seems to attribute that to his -- companions. McCoy's results are affected by his unique physiognomy. Likewise, Thomas. As for me? My personal force field apparently screens hostile virii as well. The original strain couldn't get past it and this one fared no better. That leaves Rogue and Joe, but we have no idea where they are. Damn, have we heard from Worthington and whatserface?"
"They're on the way," Bobby piped up.
"Uhm...ma'am...? Dr. Reyes? What about me?" this from Sam, uneasy. "An' Lila...is she gonna be all right?"
"Bad news, Sam. While you and Miss Cheney here have not contracted the virus -- you both have traces of it in your systems. You are carriers. Anywhere either of you goes, the virus goes with you."
"We're wot?!" Lila's voice sliced through the uneasy silence that had hung heavy in the air after that heavy announcement. "'Ow the bloody 'ell did Oi come down with some kinda flippin' mutant-killin' virus! Oi 'aven't been anywhere!"
Hank looked from Lila to Cecelia, to Jean. "We are about to ascertain that, I believe," Hank murmured, tapping Jean on the shoulder. "Ororo and Remy believe you were accosted in Genosha."
"Accosted," growled Cecelia in a low, dangerous voice, "Is one way of putting it."
Sam stood, turning to gaze directly at Cecelia. "Ma'am," he said respectfully. "You're not tellin' me what ah think you're tellin' me. That Lila was...that she was..."
"Raped?" Cecelia said, voice pitched so it wouldn't carry to Lila. "Unfortunately, Sam. I am."
"If that's true," Lila sneered, apparently without having heard the other conversation, "Then Oi want to know why Oi don't remember a bloody thing."
"We were hoping you would consent," Jean said softly. "Just lie back and relax; I'll be finding out the truth, if it's there to be found. Everyone else should -- go."
"Except Guthrie," Cecelia countered. "Into quarantine with you, until we can find a way to nail and kill this virus. You too, Miss Cheney."
"And if we can't?" asked Bobby with a frown.
Cecelia left the question unanswered as Sam obediently went to sit in the quarantine zone beside Scott. "Then we try something else. Go upstairs and--" her mouth dropped open as she turned and saw Lila's bed was empty. "--aw, fuck. Go upstairs, and call everybody Lila knows before she kills every mutant on the planet."
"Lila's house, Guido speaking."
The response Guido got over the phone was incoherent babbling in Bobby Drake's voice.
"Say what? Say again? Slow down, ya dumb blork! What?"
"I said, if Lila shows up there, nail her down! She's contagious! She could start an epidemic among mutants if she runs around!"
"Say what?" Guido choked. "She's out of Genosha?" He stabbed the phone with a stubby finger, changing the phone to speaker mode.
"Yeah, she's out of Genosha, feverish, a little crazy, and contagious with a new strain of the Legacy virus!" Bobby shouted from the speakerphone.
There was a crash from the kitchen as Jamie dropped the dishes he was helping Mickey wash. He and Mickey both squeezed through the kitchen doorway to listen.
"According to Storm and Gambit, her teleportation's all messed up, too -- so she may show up in bad shape. She'll go to ground in places she knows. Do you think you guys can cover that?"
Jamie had gone pale. Mickey winced as his fingers closed over her elbow. His words came back to her. I've died before and I did not enjoy it. She looked up at Jamie's face and bit her lip, worriedly.
There was a series of noises from upstairs, which resulted in everyone falling silent. Guido held a finger to his lips, and pointing upstairs with the other hand. Jamie, face full of dread, nodded, and smacked his forehead. Another Jamie appeared alongside the original. He, too, was pale. He headed for the stairs with obvious reluctance, and looked toward Mickey. He gave a toss of his head, indicating she should come along.
Mickey, already pale blue, paled further. Me?! Why am I coming alon--oh. She nodded and followed Jamie toward the stairs.
Lila waited until the others' eyes were off her. They were all up in arms about the flu, or lhasa fever, or malaria -- whatever it was. Aside from feeling like she had spent a lost weekend, she felt fine. She didn't know the rather boyish woman with the braids, and the rest of the X-Men, even rational Sam -- were acting crazy. Time for you to make tracks, Lila-girl.
The teleport was painful this time, but since she was just sending herself, it was far easier than it was with passengers. I'll be fine after a good night's sleep, yeah. She came to rest on the beachfront balcony of her LA house, and went to walk inside. Heading for the shower, she tripped and fell, cursing.
Betsy Braddock grumbled under her breath. Always when I'm in the bloody bath . She padded out of the bathroom, towel around her, and picked up the phone. "Hullo?"
"Elizabeth." The voice belonged to Henry McCoy, and he did not sound like his usual avuncular, jocular self. He usually calls me 'Betts.' "You and Warren need to come by the mansion, forthwith. Everyone who's been in the mansion in the past three weeks has been exposed to a new strain of the Legacy virus. Cecelia and I are running tests. Scott has contracted it, as has Marrow."
"Henry, tell me you are joking," Betsy said, eyes widening.
"I may joke about a good many things, Elizabeth. But this is not one of them. Get Warren and come to the mansion immediately. More details when you arrive. Hurry." The line went CLICK and died.
Betsy concentrated and a corona of violet-magenta in the shape of a butterfly surrounded her eyes as she cast her thoughts about, looking for Warren.
[~Warren?~]
Warren was not far from the penthouse, circling over Central Park. His mind voice was not exactly brimming over with elation upon hearing her call. [~What?~]
[~We're wanted at the mansion at once. I'll be on the roof by the time you arrive.~]
Warren frowned, and demanded to know what precisely was so important that their presence was required at the mansion -- and couldn't wait. [~Oh my God -- is it Scott? Has he gotten worse?~]
[~You might say that, Warren. He has contracted another version of the Legacy virus. We are at risk as well.~]
That was enough for Warren. There were no more words needed, telepathic or otherwise. He spread his wings to catch an updraft and turned for his penthouse roof. As promised, Psylocke, in costume, was waiting for him, in a crouch. I have to give her this much -- she's good for thinking on her feet. He extended his arms and scooped her up as he soared past, then swung around to head north toward Westchester.
Or