Chapter One: Sacrifice
Another Time, Another Place
The sleek, metallic halls were home to him, calling to the need inside of him to constantly seek protection. It was something like a home, a den of man-made metals. Inside there was safety, hope, and all those things the aging, weary priests insisted on screaming to the fiery heavens.
“We don’t have much time,” said his companion as they dashed down the halls. “They’ll discover us at any moment.”
“They won’t break the lines,” rumbled the younger of the pair.
A worn keypad was manipulated by the genius beside him and the young companion’s heart began to pound within his breast. His entire life he had fought for a cause, even before he understood what that cause might be. They had taught him tolerance in the face of bigotry, love in the wake of devastation, peace in a lifetime of war.
“Father!”
The smaller man turned from his watchful post beside the enormous machine. It dwarfed anything in the room, making even the large young man feel miniscule and unworthy. His father, however, still seemed larger than life. Perhaps it was that way for all children, even as they grew into adulthood.
There was always something so comforting, strengthening about his father’s presence. He would have given good money to have him along on this perilous and insane trip. It was right up Father’s alley, really.
But there was only enough in the machine for one. He had to do this alone or not at all. He had been training for this moment ten years. Failure was not an option, not with so much at stake. If it killed him, he would succeed.
“Hey, kid,” his father said, voice tight. “You ready?”
“No,” he shook his head with a small smile. “But I will go.”
“I know,” Father said warmly, reaching out to shake his hand. “You’ll make us all proud.”
There was something more than pride in Father’s words. Hope, which always seemed just a little alien from his voice, shone through now. The young man took the bracelet from his companion, nodding when the elder explained several things about this monumental trip.
Inside this room, where the machine had been created through the order of the men they fought, was the barest hint of heroism and bravery. Whatever happened, these two would go on to tell generations about one man’s sacrifice.
Of course, he didn’t plan on losing anything, no matter what Father and Mother tried to tell him. He could be as just as damn stubborn as they were.
“I’ll tell the girls you said goodbye,” Father grinned, pulling his son closer for a quick, masculine embrace.
“Tell them I love them,” he whispered, clinging to his father for a moment longer than he needed to.
“Be careful, son.”
“Goodbye, Father.”
“Go, now!” Forge ordered.
“GO!” Father hollered a moment later. Scraping of metal on metal and the whine of machinery rang through the metallic corridor. They had been discovered. Time, it would seem, was up.
Father shoved him in the general direction of the contraption as he grabbed the laser-gun from its holster. As he ran toward the machine, he fired several rounds, providing cover for his father until the last possible moment.
“Go, son!” Father shouted over the din of battle, turning to watch his son with sorrow in his eyes. “GO!”
Bishop fired two last shots, capturing the image of his father in his mind before closing his eyes and stepping into the machine. Sound faded into a dull, robotic murmur as his body fought to stay in one piece while being ripped through time.
He knew, without his father saying, that he would never see him again.
~**~
The Here and Now
Ororo Munroe stomped through the halls of Xavier’s Institute for Higher Learning with thunder rolling in her wake. In the two months since she had taken over the position of Headmistress at the exclusive mutant school, everything seemed to collapse the moment her back was turned.
Her companions, as usual, were of little help. Henry McCoy, whom had resigned from his post as Secretary of Mutant Affairs to rejoin the team in the battle with Magneto and Phoenix, declined an offer to become a U.N. Ambassador. He lived back at the school now, teaching several courses while making nice with the Wolverine.
Wolverine. Ororo snarled to herself. Though she was happy to have the help during the start of the school year, the man was beginning to make an ass out of himself. Not a day went by when he wasn’t banging on her office door with a list of problems she needed to fix now.
She often entertained ideas of tossing his adamantium-laced body into the lake and bringing down the Artic to Westchester.
If her companions were not driving her quickly up the wall, her new generation of X-Men was testing the very limits of her self-control.
Bobby Drake, Katherine Pryde, and Piotr Rasputin had been officially inducted after their display of power at Alcatraz. Now, it seemed, they believed they needed to guidance, no adult to watch over them on missions. That was swiftly going to come to an end if Ororo had to strip them all of their recently acquired positions.
And she did not even want to get started on Marie. That girl had been nothing but a thorn in her side since returning to the mansion cured of mutation. It was a constant fight between both Storm and Wolverine as to whether or not the girl could stay on at the mansion. Ororo felt that she could return to her family while Logan viciously fought back that they were supposed to be teaching tolerance.
Storm argued that they needed the space; Logan shouted that they still had a wing they could open up if the need arose.
In two months, they were still stalemated.
Ororo slammed into her office, kicking her door closed as she rounded on Hank and Logan. Both men were lounging casually in her office, chatting amicably as they awaited her arrival to start the daily staff meeting. Ororo on the other hand, was covered with frog intestines.
“Henry. Peter. McCoy.” Each word had a deliberate threat and punctuated by a massive clap of thunder.
“Good Lord, Storm, whatever happened?” Henry stood as though to aid her.
Ororo put a hand up to silence him, trying in vain to control her temper. With her free hand, she gestured to the bloody green mess covering her new gray suit.
“This is what happens when you leave supplies out in a school filled with teenagers,” she explained as though speaking to an infant. “Go. Clean. It. Up. Now.”
Hank blinked at her for several moments, unable to speak. He must have caught the murder in her eyes, for he excused himself a moment later.
Ororo shrugged out of her jacket, ignoring Wolverine’s presence and tossed the ruined material into a corner of the expansive room. She could feel his eyes on her back as she turned on him, unbuttoning her blouse as she stepped into the washroom where she kept a spare change of clothes.
“You wanna talk about it?”
“No,” she snapped from the bathroom, throwing her shirt out into the office.
“Ok.” He refused to press, as always. “If yer gonna striptease, at least do it where I can see.”
Ororo ducked her head into the office and glared at him for all she was worth. The Wolverine gave her a broad grin around his cigar, winking playfully. She had to pull her head back into the bathroom before she laughed. It was irritating that he kept doing that.
Though she was often annoyed with him “ not to mention everyone else lately “ a part of her was thrilled that he opted to halt his wandering ways. Staying on with the X-Men, she felt, was a selfish move on his part. But he tried, every day, to make his place here among them. Their blue, furry friend, she felt, was an essential part to his integration.
After pulling on faded Xavier sweats and a matching hoodie, she came back into the office. Instead of taking her usual place behind her departed mentor’s desk, Ororo plopped onto the sofa beside Logan.
“You look like you need a drink.” He observed almost immediately.
With her eyes closed, Ororo smiled swiftly. “I need several of them as well as a big-biceped Latin lover named Julio to feed me grapes and rub my feet.”
When Logan did not respond, she opened her eyes, head resting against the back of the sofa. Logan was staring at her as though she’d grown another head. Unable to contain it, she chuckled slightly, feeling a little better about her day.
Losing Scott and Jean had been difficult for her. In all of her life, she had never had siblings until coming to Xavier’s School. The young weather witch had found an instant family in Scott, Jean, and darling Henry. They had shared in everything. To have that so horribly taken away was cruelty on hellacious levels.
But nothing compared to losing Charles. Her mentor, father, friend…Charles had taken her from the idolatry of the tribes in southern Kenya and given her purpose, a mission. That mission got her out of bed every morning, even in the beginning when even breathing caused her heart to ache.
It still hurt, but every day that hurt bled away a little more. She put on a brave face for the children and her colleagues. Somehow she was sure that neither Hank nor Logan completely believed it. Hank especially knew what her family meant to her. Family, in her mind, was everything.
While she was lost in her thoughts, Logan had sat up, looking around in that eerie manner he had that she likened to a skittish deer. She could hear him sniffing the air and was surprised when he stood, moving in front of her as though to protect her.
“Logan?”
“Somethin’ ain’t right in here,” he replied softly. “Shh.”
Clamping her mouth shut at his prompting, Ororo moved to stand as well, staying behind the over-alert cover her friend provided.
“Get down!”
He barely gave her time to gasp in shock. Logan tackled her to the sofa, toppling it so they could use it for cover. He cradled her in his arms, holding her head down as though he expected to absorb some kind of blow.
A beat later, terrible noise flooded the room. It sounded as though the very air were fighting, battling over which particular atom belonged in each individual space. The furious molecules suddenly restricted breath. Both mutants fought to breathe. Ororo clung to her teammate as unnatural winds kicked up, threatening to sweep them both away.
Snikt! She heard his claws extend and watched him bury the lethal adamantium into the polished floorboards. He used the extensions of his body to hold them both in place as papers and furniture whipped around the room.
“Are you doing that?” He shouted over the roar.
“No! It is not natural!” She replied, trembling in his embrace.
And then, as quickly as it had started, the winds ceased. Papers rustled to the floor and glass shattered as it fell from the suddenly still air.
Wind tousled and confused, Logan retracted his claws, keeping Ororo behind him as he stood. She peered over his broad shoulders, startled to find a full-grown man standing in the very center of her office.
His back was facing them, his towering frame somewhat enhanced by the decimated room. He wore clothing of worn black leather; his long dark hair tossed over one shoulder. Ororo gripped Logan’s arm, trying to keep him calm.
The stranger turned then, revealing a determined young face and soulful obsidian eyes. In his hands was a contraption that could have been a weapon, but unlike anything she had ever seen.
“Who are ya? And what the fuck are you doin’ in here?” Logan demanded, clenching his hands into fists.
As if shocked by the words, the stranger did not speak. He looked from one to the other, sizing them up even as Ororo stood to her full height and met his dark gaze.
“Start talkin’, bub,” Logan growled. “While ya still can.”
“I would listen to him,” Ororo chimed in. “He has a short fuse.”
“I’m Bishop,” the man said in a quiet tone. “I’m from the future.”
Ororo felt her eyebrows fly into her hairline as Logan turned his head to meet her eyes. She shrugged slightly, squeezing his arm to let him know she was just as confused. Her friend slowly released six weapons from their hiding place, raising them just as deliberately.
“Put it away, Wolverine,” Bishop said pointedly. “You might not believe me, but I’m not leaving until my mission is done. Call the others. There’s something you all need to hear.”
~**~
From his place in the underground War Room, Logan watched the stranger with guarded eyes. There was something familiar about this kid. Not in his features or his manner, but in the scent. Something…comforting that he couldn’t quite place.
The man was really just a boy, maybe a little older than Pete and Bobby. But there was a hardened look to this pup, as though he’d lived a life that he shouldn’t have. His face was marred by a long “M” shaped tattoo that covered his right eye.
He stared straight ahead while Storm called the others into the X-Men’s meeting hall. Occasionally, though, Logan caught the youngster glancing at him or Storm. There was something like recognition in his gaze, but of what Logan couldn’t begin to fathom.
From his gear, Logan pegged him as a warrior. His stance was almost predatory, his eyes obviously trained to take in anything and everything. This was a man that fought for a living.
“This man, who claims his name is Bishop, just appeared in my office,” Storm was saying imperiously to the assembled group. “He claims to be from the future.”
“I don’t claim anything,” Bishop fired back. “I am from the future.”
“I fear you must prove that, my boy,” Hank cut in, his voice still typically cheerful. “Claims that one is from or has knowledge of the future are usually not so easily believed.”
“I can’t say too much or I might change history in a way that wouldn’t be in our favor,” Bishop said cautiously. “How would you like me to prove it?”
“What are next week’s lottery numbers?” Logan asked without missing a beat.
“Wolverine.” Storm shook her head slightly. He grinned. She rolled her eyes.
“Look, I don’t have time to sit here trying to prove something to you,” Bishop sighed.
One look around the table told both Bishop and Wolverine that he wasn’t going to have any time to do what he came for until they were convinced that he happened to be from the future. Storm already looked more than suspicious while Hank genuinely curious.
The younger X-Men just seemed confused.
“Ok,” Bishop gave in. “Fine. What’s today’s date?”
Ororo recited it for him quickly. The man’s eyes widened slightly; Logan could almost see him calculating something in his head before he replied.
“That’s the day…” The dark man chuckled. “Ok, Storm?”
She raised a solitary white brow in answer.
“You got frog intestines spilled all over you because two students “ Max and Emily “ blew up Dr. McCoy’s case for his Biology class.”
“Any spy could have seen that just an hour ago.” She countered, narrowing her eyes.
“Ok,” he continued. “In about a minute, the mansion’s main line will ring. It’ll be Nightcrawler calling for Rogue. After that phone call, she’ll be very upset. She will demand to be taken to Germany for several weeks.”
As if on cue, the dull ring of the mansion’s telephone line rang throughout the underground chamber. Logan grabbed the receiver from the wall, barking the greeting Ororo insisted they all use.
“Yeah,” he said upon hearing Kurt’s audibly distraught tone. “I’ll get her.”
He waited until Rogue had picked up her end of the phone, cradling the receiver carefully. When he faced Bishop again, he caught a moment of complete vulnerability in the man’s ebony eyes. He had left something “ or someone “ he cared about a great deal to come back here.
Logan went with his gut. “I believe him.”
“Logan,” Ororo sighed. “This is impossible.”
“Not really,” Bishop said, still looking at Wolverine. “In fact, Dr. McCoy here already knows several people working on the theory.”
Hank’s face broke into an immediate grin. “Forge? He’ll…”
Bishop smirked, putting a single finger to his lips as though telling Hank to keep his mouth shut about certain things. Hank, for his part, closed his mouth quickly while looking ready to burst from the inside out.
“Let us suspend all reality for a moment and say I believe you,” Storm said coldly. “What is this mission so important that one must time-travel to complete it?”
For several seconds, Bishop did not speak. He did, however, turn to face the X-Men’s leader all traces of his vulnerability gone. “To stop a war we’ve been fighting since I was five years old.”
“What war?” Logan questioned.
“The one that gave me this,” he indicated to the scar on his face. “It’s the brand of a mutant, we all had to get them when I was a kid. The Rebellion broke out shortly after. We’ve been fighting ever since.”
“You have come back to prevent the war from happening altogether?” Hank asked, looking hard at the young man.
“Yeah,” Bishop said, determination taking over his face again. “It’s torn North America apart, thousands have been killed, on both sides.”
They sat for a moment in utter silence. Logan felt, for the first time, that this is what Xavier had been fighting to prevent. A war on that magnitude was something no one needed to be part of. Was that what lie ahead for them? Death and destruction the likes of which the world had never seen?
“There was a catalyst around this time, or that’s what our research has determined,” Bishop continued a moment later. “I’ve come back to ensure it doesn’t happen.”
“How do we know it won’t make things worse?” Bobby interrupted for the first time. “You could just wipe out all mutants or something.”
Bishop stood slowly to his full, massive height. He glared at the young X-Man, his eyes nearly glowing as he did so.
“Boy,” he growled insultingly. “I left my parents -- my family -- behind to complete this mission. I won’t see them again. Hell, by the end of this I may not exist. I’m sure. I’m damn sure.”
Bobby swallowed hard and looked back down at the table.
Ororo cut in again smoothly. “Bishop? What is this catalyst?”
For a long, tense moment, the man did not speak. When he did, it was with conviction and a hint of sorrow.
“I don’t know. I honestly don’t know.”
