The Thing That Came On X-Mas Eve

Small reminders like this were what made the pain of loss so hard to accept.

But still she smiled.

The powerful contraceptive had been custom designed by former X-Man and genius biochemist Hank McCoy, to work on enhanced mutant metabolisms, at Jean's special request. Ororo had been embarrassed at first, wondering what Jean's casual offer of such preventive measures had meant, both about the knowledge of Ororo's private affairs, and about Jean's own behavior. But now, Storm shuddered at what consequences her encounter with the N'Garai could have, without these.

Even gone, Jean remained there for her, helpful as always through her advice.

Whether Ororo felt at ease or not with what it said about her, having violent sex with inhuman monsters was really much less worrisome knowing that she was on the pill.

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

"Are you sure you're feeling well enough?"

"Gotta pick up that wrecked bike, kid. Could use your help."

"Well, it's a clear night now."

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

With her hair gathered in a towel and her robe loose about her, Storm sat with legs crossed on the wide bed of white linen sheets, regarding the bundle before her, its content still wrapped in her stained sweater.

She should get rid of it. It was not the kind of reminder she should keep, and may even prove dangerous.

She spread the sweater out and breathed in deeply. Even incomplete, it was a daunting sight. She ran a fingertip over the twisting lines etched in the hard surface. There was no result. It remained dark, and cold, like a dead piece of rock. A long, thick piece of dead rock carved with complex runes. Dead. It had to remain dead.

She could not allow any risk of the N'Garai's return.

Seizing it, she lifted it; so heavy, and massive. How could she destroy it? It had not vanished like its owner; the runes on its surface were apparently enough to keep it in her world, even severed from his body. Its body. And it was just as impervious.

What would Jean do?

She shifted uneasily, and brought it close to her face. It smelled of ashes, dead ashes. Hesitatingly, she touched it with her tongue, and then licked slowly along its length. It tasted like it smelled, and remained dark and cold. Perhaps it was not dangerous, except for other implications. But she felt certain she could deal with that.

Maybe she could contact someone for advice. Doctor Strange, perhaps.

Maybe later.

She let it out her mouth, the dark, craggy, bulbous surface glistening with her saliva, and reclined on the pillows behind her, stretching out and spreading her long legs.

Even now, it was too long. Not to mention too thick.

But she could deal with that.

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

Lightning flashed in the sky, and thunder followed closely. Again and again.

"Oh, boy." Peter looked up. "Storm's coming."

Logan nodded, frowning.

THE END