Chapter 249 — Echoes
The tunnels always smelled like old wounds.
Blood seeped into stone down here, clung to the rusted rails and broken tiles like the place kept a ledger of every Morlock who suffered. Logan had spent enough time in darkness to know it had a memory… and that memory wasn't kind.
A shaky glow flickered from Dazzler's hands — soft gold light, not her usual show-stopping brilliance. She was conserving energy, sweat already beading across her brow. The Morlocks' infirmary wasn't much more than a pile of scavenged cots and patched-up pipes whistling a sickly tune. And on one of those cots lay Havok, barely hanging on.
Storm — hair cropped into a striking mohawk — stood guard over him. Without her powers she still carried command in every bone. Psylocke leaned silently against a cracked pillar, eyes narrowed, senses stretched. Rogue hovered close to Havok like she feared he might slip away if she blinked.
Logan watched Havok breathe. Too shallow. Too slow.
He took a slow drag from his cigar — more habit than comfort — letting the scent of tobacco smother the metallic sting of the blood.
-Guy's a Summers… they always find new ways to bleed all over the damn world.
Finally, he looked to Rogue.
"So. Where'd you find the boy, and what the hell happened to him?"
Rogue lifted her shoulders in a helpless shrug, her gloved thumb hooking toward Havok.
"Ah don't know, Logan. Ah just found him lyin' right outside the school doors. Didn't even have time to ask him how before he passed clean out."
Storm's voice echoed calm authority. "We wait until he wakes. We need answers… and perhaps hope." Then her expression shifted, just slightly, worry cutting through composure. "Where are the others?"
Psylocke's gaze flicked toward Storm. "They stayed at Muir Island. They'll need every body they have if more attacks come."
Logan grunted. If. As if the universe ever left the X-Men alone for long.
Havok suddenly groaned — a jagged, raw sound — his head turning weakly against the pillow. Storm was instantly at his side, hand resting gently on his shoulder.
"Havok. You're safe. Can you hear us?"
His eyelids fluttered, unfocused eyes taking in the tunnel ceiling before darting across unfamiliar faces. He swallowed, voice cracked.
"Where… am I?"
Rogue stepped closer, softening her tone. "Yer with us, sugar. Morlock tunnels. Yer gonna be fine."
"And what happened to you, Alex?" Psylocke added.
Havok blinked hard, panic knitting his brow as memory surged back like a punch.
"We— Lorna and I— we were in Rio Diablo. Just living. Trying to be normal…" His breath caught, a tremor running up his arms. "Then they came. A group calling themselves the Marauders. We fought them — wasn't even a contest at first. Lorna's magnetic powers had them flying like rag dolls. And I— I backed her up. We had them!"
He clenched a fist weakly, nails biting his palm.
"But then… Malice." His voice turned to frost. "She hit Lorna before I could react. Straight into her mind. Took her. Lorna tried — God, she tried — to push me away before Malice could twist her too far. She told me to run." His breathing quickened, eyes wide and glossy.
Logan's jaw tightened. Malice. A vicious parasite of a mutant. A puppeteer who left no strings visible.
Storm's face drew taut. "Malice was destroyed. We saw it ourselves."
Psylocke shook her head slowly, voice low and disbelieving. "And the Marauders?"
Logan let out a humorless huff. "I did more than cut 'em. Put some down like the rabid dogs they were."
But Havok didn't stop, didn't seem to hear them — his horror had found its own voice.
"I escaped. Barely. Lost too much blood on the way… but I thought if I reached Charles— if Scott—"
He looked up suddenly, realization cracking open another, deeper fear.
"The school… I saw— what happened to it?"
Storm answered with no sugarcoat, only truth. "What happened to you… the same. The Marauders attacked. The Morlocks suffered. We retreated to Muir Island."
Havok stared, wordless. Then —
"What about my brother? I tried calling him— I couldn't reach him!"
Storm hesitated. Only a moment. But that moment was enough for Havok to see something he didn't want to.
"He disappeared," she finally admitted. "He left his wife and son behind. No word since."
That hit Havok harder than any blast. He shook his head violently.
"No. Scott wouldn't— that's not— he wouldn't do something that shameful."
Logan flicked ash off his cigar and spoke around the filter.
"He did. And his wife? Lee died after. Grief took her."
Havok's lips parted. Then closed. Then parted again without sound. His hands went to his temples as though trying to hold his whole world from falling apart.
Logan's gut twisted. Brutal truth always cuts deeper when family's involved.
Storm rested a hand over Havok's. "We will find him. If Scott is alive… we will bring him home."
Silence followed — heavy and long — broken only by Havok's ragged breathing.
Eventually, he wiped at his eyes and forced himself upright against the cold wall.
"What… what are you doing down here?"
Rogue answered first, arms crossing, the humor almost welcome. "Waitin' for the Professor to come back. That's all we got left right now."
Havok blinked, confusion slipping back in. "Come back? From where?"
Storm's lips twitched — tiny, tired irony. "His honeymoon. In space."
Logan couldn't help it. A gravelly laugh escaped him.
-Space. Freakin' honeymoon. Meanwhile the whole house is burning behind him.
Havok stared at them like they'd collectively lost their minds.
Then footsteps.
Storm inhaled slowly, gaze drifting to the tunnel exit.
Something was coming.
The silhouette finally stepped fully into the glow of Dazzler's trembling light.
But the scent hit Logan first — warm familiarity, old paper, cedar soap, and just the faintest electric hum of psychic presence.
Charles Xavier.
"Well," he muttered, flicking ash aside. "Here he comes."
The others reacted a heartbeat later — disbelief turning into joy.
"Professor!" Dazzler gasped, her light pulsing brighter with relief before she caught herself.
Storm stepped forward, composure briefly cracking into pure raw emotion. "Charles…"
Xavier's stepped closer, cloak from the Shi'ar empire draped regally behind him. He had that look — tired around the eyes, but unbroken. The look of a man who'd seen war and chosen to return anyway.
"You have all suffered greatly," he said softly. "I already know what occurred in my absence. I came as swiftly as I could."
Logan crossed his arms, smoke curling above him. Quiet frustration brewed under his ribs — too many battles fought without their leader. Too many graves.
Storm gathered herself, voice steady despite everything. "It is good to see you again, Charles."
"And I you." Xavier's gaze shifted — a hint of guilt flickering. "All of you."
Logan stepped forward, not bothering to hide the edge in his tone.
"So, what were you doin' in the Shi'ar Empire while the house was burnin' down?"
Xavier paused. Then, his hand dipped into his suit pocket, retrieving a small metallic case. Sleek. Alien. Important.
He held it out toward Storm.
Charles said, voice steady but warm. "Your X-Gene was not destroyed — merely suppressed, Storm. The Shi'ar possess technologies beyond our world's imagination. So I worked with them… to give you this."
Storm stared at the box like it was a loaded fate.
Inside, nestled in cushioned gel, were two crystalline vials of golden liquid — cosmic stardust suspended in serum.
"If injected," Xavier continued, "your gift — your identity — will return to you. The skies will answer your call again."
Storm didn't speak at first. Her hand trembled slightly as she took the box. All the burden, all the helplessness she carried since losing her powers — it melted into one small, fragile word.
"…thank you."
Her voice cracked at the edges, vulnerability shining.
Logan looked away, giving her that moment. Girl's gone through hell without the wind at her back. Seeing her hope again… that was worth something.
Xavier's smile softened, gentle mischief returning to his eyes. "Seems I wasn't on a honeymoon after all, Ororo."
Storm shot him a glare that was half blush, half threat, and the others erupted into relieved laughter — tension draining all at once.
Logan barked out a genuine, rough laugh — first real one in a while. Even Havok — despite the bandages — chuckled until pain forced him to stop, hissing.
Dazzler placed a steadying hand on his arm. "Easy there, cowboy. Don't bust a stitch over a joke."
Xavier's gaze turned to Dazzler and Psylocke next.
"I hardly had the time to formally welcome you." His eyes glimmered with sincerity. "You have both shown extraordinary courage. I promise this — no one who stands with us is ever abandoned."
Dazzler swallowed, suddenly shy. Psylocke bowed her head in acknowledgment — the compliment meant more than she let show.
Finally, Xavier faced Havok.
"And Alex… welcome home."
Havok's throat tightened around emotion he wasn't ready to show. But he nodded, jaw set. Summers blood — prideful even when shattered.
Storm exhaled, focus returning like a blade finding its edge.
"The Marauders' intent is clear. They target those tied to us — the Morlocks, Dazzler, Jean's family, now Alex and Polaris." Her hands closed into fists. "They want extinction."
Psylocke pushed off the pillar, crossing arms.
"Even death doesn't contain them. We've killed them — yet here they are again." Her eyes darkened. "We need a plan to stop them. Permanently."
Logan grinned around his cigar — sharp, predatory, and entirely too pleased with himself.
"Oh, I got a plan."
He leaned forward, eyes gleaming with dangerous creativity.
Half an hour later…
Silence.
Logan finished explaining, shrugging like what he'd laid out was as normal as asking for coffee. Then he finally noticed that every single pair of eyes was frozen wide, faces slack like they'd forgotten how mouths worked.
He raised a brow. "What? Something on my face?"
Rogue blinked rapidly. "Ah just — Ah mean — sugar, Ah never pegged ya for bein' that… clever." She gestured vaguely at his skull. "Ah thought you were more brawn than brains."
Logan smirked. "You live long enough, darlin', you either learn somethin'… or you die dumb."
Rogue chuckled despite herself.
Storm folded one hand under her chin, analyzing.
"It is extremely risky," she admitted. "But… doable."
But Xavier shook his head.
"No." His tone hit the space like a telepathic gavel. "If there is a single miscalculation in timing… the cost will be all your lives."
Storm set her jaw — regal again.
"Charles, every moment we wait… someone else dies. The Marauders resurrect infinitely. We do not. We have one life each. And if we spend it hiding, we lose everything anyway."
Silence thickened — heavy and suffocating.
Xavier looked at each of them. Really looked.
Logan held his stare back without flinching. The growl wasn't in his throat — it was in his soul.
-They're comin'. Might already be here. We hit first or die second.
Havok straightened against his pain.
Rogue lifted her chin, fists ready.
Psylocke's psychic blade hummed faintly in her grip.
Dazzler's light pulsed stronger — defiance brightening the dark.
Storm stood proud, hope in one hand, fury in the other.
These weren't merely soldiers.
They were survivors.
Xavier's resolve cracked.
"…Very well."
A collective breath released at once — tension melting into fierce smiles.
"We'll do it," Storm said, fire returning.
"And we'll win," Logan added with certainty, cigar ember glowing like a promise.
Xavier exhaled, weary but committed. "Then we begin planning for the war."
Logan's senses sharpened instinctively — heartbeats steady, breaths burning with purpose.