Title: Three of a Kind Chap 13
Series: Three of a Kind
Author: X-Tricks
Feedback/Archive: Lue and Eoen, others - please no as
this is a WIP. But I'd love to hear from you!
Summary: The end of winter brings tragedy.

Chapter 13

He disliked leaving the lab. The polished wood
paneling and the Persian carpets under his bare feet -
what shoes would fit him now? - and the delicate
glitter of glass lamps only reminded him of just what
he was. And what he wasn't. Hank didn't' belong
here, where the china cups shattered under his clumsy,
useless paws, where soup drooled out of a mouth meant
to tear flesh. He was nothing but a wolf in a
scientist's clothing. There were days when Hank
wished reverently that his mind has devolved like his
body when he had so foolishly attempted to de-activate
the mutant gene within himself. Then, when he looked
in a mirror, he wouldn't have the sense to be sickened
by what he saw.

Hank also disliked the reason he'd called this
meeting. He had nothing but suspicions and he hoped
to be proved wrong. Everyone was waiting, in the old
sunroom where the Academy's teachers met. If Hank
preferred the lab and the cool, neutral hallways of
the X-men's stronghold, Logan hated them. So they met
upstairs when they could. Hank paused outside the
door, he could hear them in there, talking, breathing
- waiting. His ears flicked and Hank folded them
down. He tapped the folders in his hands and went
inside.

"Hank?" Jean's voice was sharp with an anxiety she
wasn't ready to face. Scott was next to her, with
that particular stiffness that revealed a great deal
of his feelings. The professor gave him a quick
smile. Ororo and Logan were also here, Logan starting
on his evening alcohol. Hank had specifically chosen
a time when he knew the newcomer Gambit would not be
here for this meeting dealt with him and Hank
preferred to brief his teammates before he confronted
the thief with his suspicions. With any luck, his
fears would be discounted and he need never bring this
up to the young southerner.

The windows were open to let in the first really
pleasant day of the year and the sun gleamed on the
dark wood table and highly polished wooden floor.
Hank pulled a chair out, careful of his claws.

"Thank you for your time, my friends." He began,
Logan snorted and Hank smiled ruefully at the
formality of his words. He'd never escape his
academic background. "You can take the professor out
of the lecture hall, my good friend Logan, but -
apparently - no one has yet discovered how to take the
lecture hall out of the professor."

"Yeah - whatever. What did ya call us all here for?"
Logan slugged back the rest of his beer and Hank
passed out the slim folders he'd brought.

"I have - concerns."

Hank watched everyone - except Logan - flip the
folders open. Scott frowned. Jean spread the papers
out to study them, head tipped to one side. Charles
watched Hank and waited. Ororo tapped the paperwork
and watched the sunlight. Logan glared at his empty
beer bottle.

"About Paul - " Scott shuffled through the paperwork,
not really seeing it. "We all do. He's been though a
lot."

Hank shook his head and sank gingerly into a seat.
The wood creaked but held. "My concerns are -
unfortunately - less humane. I've had the opportunity
to study the young man quite thoroughly over the last
few months. Gene- assays, blood typing, a fair amount
of gross physical examinations during his illness and
subsequent recovery. All of which has been -
fascinating."

"Yeah, well - kids a freak like the rest of us."
Logan grumbled. "We're all facinatin.'"

"Were it not for the existence of the thief Gambit,
yes, I would be nothing more than wildly intrigued but
the two of them present a statistical impossibility."

"We see rather a lot of statistical improbabilities
around here." Charles said mildly.

"Forgive me - when I said impossible, I meant it,
professor." Hank said, trying hard to keep the
stiffness out of his voice. The months had blunted
the edges of their disagreement but it was still
there, under the surface, waiting. "Remy is a truly
remarkable example of the X-gene. His mutations are
extensive and his genetic blueprint reads more like a
- a mystery novel than a map of DNA. We all know the
basics - the physical anomalies, the eyes, certian
basic aspects of powers. And Paul shares them. All
of them."

"I thought the X-gene created mutations at random - "
Ororo said slowly.

"It does." Hank said flatly. "All of us at this
table are miracles of good luck and evolutionary
fortune. Our mutations are valuable, powerful and -
unlike the many combinations that result in early
miscarriage or still-births -"

Jean's pallor reminded him, too late to shut up. " -
ahm. I digress. There are none of us - among all the
mutations we've seen or heard of - alike. Perhaps in
a thousand years, or ten-thousand, our inheritance
stabilize but now - we are all unique. Even twins,
such as the Canadians, do not precisely mimic powers
or physiology."

"Except for Remy and Paul." Scott said, he'd shifted
slightly and Hank was sure Jean was clutching her
husband's hand under the table.

"Except for Remy and Paul."

"Which suggests - what? That they aren't mutants?
That they're long lost identical twins?"

"No." Hank shook his head. "Though I have not
isolated the X-gene in the scans as of yet, it is
quite clear they do not fit the human normal template.
And - of course, they are not twins - perhaps."

"Look, Blue, just spit it out." Logan snapped,
fidgeting restlessly. "I don't give two shits about
all this genetic crap. So they're the same, so what?
Obviously it ain't fucking impossible."

"Nature did not produce them." Hank said, dropping
his bombshell as gently as he could. "I can't believe
that the random activation of mutant genes by the
X-factor would result in two identical but unrelated
mutants. They have to be related - and related more
closely than brothers."

"Clones." Jean immediately said and Hank nodded in
relief. Someone else said it. The faces around the
table froze.

"Sinister." Scott said softly and it could have been
fear or hate in his voice.

"But clones - aren't they going to look alike? Paul
and Remy don't look the same, and they're different
ages. They're not identical."

"Hair and skin are relatively easy to manipulate but I
believe the only explanation for their remarkable
existence is one is the clone of the other and I'd
suggest that Paul - our resent arrival is the clone.
Created later than Remy by some four or five years -
or perhaps Sinister is able to mature his creations
rapidly. If Paul *is* Sinister's clone of Remy, he
could have manipulated his genome. He is not
identical but they are far too alike for me to accept
random chance as an adequate explanation." Hank
glanced down at his paperwork to give himself a break
from the attention focused around him. "Paul's
disruptive arrival came at a very difficult time for,
forgive me please, Scott and Jean. We all know how
obsessed Sinister is with their - progeny."

"But - " Scott glanced at Jean. "Jean's baby isn't
genetically even mine."

"That - of course - is the point." Hank said gently.
Jean went white and her hand pressed unconsciously to
her still flat belly. "Paul has a limited gift for
physically manipulating others on touch and little
liking for any of us. It's possible he could trigger
a - miscarriage if he were to touch Jean."

"Jesus - " Logan shook his head slowly. "Jesus -
that fucker sent the kid to - to kill Jeannie's brat."

"Wait! Wait!" Ororo rose when Logan shoved back his
chair, growling. "He's - just a kid. He told us
where he came from - we have the records. He can't be
Sinister's creation! Logan - *wait*!"

"Records can be forged and no one can read his mind."
Scott snapped, standing and glancing at Charles.
"Professor -?"

"Neither Remy nor Paul is completely immune to
telepathic probes." Charles said softly and Hank
ached to see the grief in the older man's eyes.
Another betrayal. "I've seen nothing in Paul's mind
to contradict what he has told us but - Sinister is
not unknown to Remy. I've seen glimplses of him in
the thief's mind."

"And you didn't tell me?!" Scott yelled.

"Remy's got shit to do with this. Sinister probably
stole his pound of flesh and grew himself the perfect
little infiltrator! Is that why he ain't here? Gonna
just try and convict Gumbo while he's off doin' our
dirty work?!"

"Like Paul?" Ororo broke in, voice rising to be heard
over Logan's shouts. "Both of them?"

"Paul's been screwing things up since he got here!
Makin' us hate each other -"

"I don't *hate* you Logan!"

Logan shot Scott a bitter glance.

"Paul could say the same!" Ororo burst out, startling
everyone with her crudity. "We've screwed him over
pretty well ourselves and now we're blaming him for -"

"We've seen what he can do!" Logan snapped, flushing
dark red. His lips skinned back to bare sharp teeth.
"And he's just they type to get in here ain't he?
Some kid we can rescue - perfect damn set-up!"

"Please - these are only suspicions! Please, good
lord, please - " Hank begged but the voices rose,
shouting. Scott pale, Logan flushed and both furious.
Jean's face had gone hard and dangerous while Charles
looked - exhausted. "My friends!"

"How could Sinister even know about Jean?"

Jean pressed her hands to her face. "It's possible -
we don't have all the equipment here I needed for the
procedures. My gynecologist - my obstretician - lab
technicians - *god* !"

She looked up to stare at them all, white faced.
"What if - if the others too. If he found a way to
get at me or - or corrupt the genome? Those other
miscarriages -"

Scott slapped the table. "Dammit it can't be him!
Christ he isn't going to get any kids from me -
killing your kids isn't going to change the fact that
I'm sterile."

"Fuck - ya want damn answers, get the both of 'em in
here!" Logan snapped heading for the door. "Stead of
sticking it to Remy while he's down."

"Logan." The professor's voice was quiet but carried
and Logan halted. "Please. Let's decide what to do
before we accuse them of betrayal. I'm not sure we
aren't letting our fears decide for us."

"Well make a fucking decision 'cause I ain't gonna
wait long." Logan snarled. "Two most fuckin'
powerful 'paths in the world and we can't figure out
if we got a spy here? Shit!"

Hank dropped his head in his hand as the yelling rose
again and wished he was back in the lab. Everything
made sense there.

***********************
"C'mon -!" Marie said, exasperated. "Paul - c'mon,
we got to get to class."

"Na. Don't want to." Paul said, turning his face up
to the sun and yawning. The light blinded him but,
hell it felt to damn good to go inside. Especially to
class.

"Paul - " Marie stood between him and the light.
"Paul, you gotta come."

"Why?" He squinted at her dark shilloutte.

"I'm your social advisor right? Going to turn you
into a popular guy - if it kills me." Marie said.
"If you skip class all the time everyone else is going
to get bitchy about it. We get extra chores and stuff
if we skip class but nothing happens to you -"

"Oh, I get extra chores too." Paul grinned smugly.
"But what are they gonna do? Kick me out? Don't do
them either."

Marie rolled her eyes. "Jesus, Paul. Do you *want*
everyone to hate you? Who has to do all the stuff you
don't. Me?"

"Don't know. You don't have to do them either. I
mean, if none of us did it - what are they going to
do? We could stage a - a strike! They couldn't make
us do anything."

Marie sighed and her mouth twisted with a bitterness
far to old for her and the cadence of her words
changed. "There's all kinds of ways to - motivate -
people. Love. Fear. Hate."

Paul blinked at the disturbing flood of her emotions,
alien, old. Not like her at all. He swallowed and
swung himself off the picnic table. "Marie?"

She blinked and the strangeness went as quickly as it
came. She shook her head, shifting uneasily. "Fine.
Whatever. But it's stupid, Paul. You aren't making
any allies here."

Paul watched her walk, trailing irritation, to where
Bobby was waiting for her at the back door. He didn't
need to go to class - didn't care what the kids
thought. And he damn well wasn't going to let them
see just how stupid he really was. No way. But she
was really pissed at him.

"Wait -!" Paul called and trotted after her, cursing
under his breath. He could go to class but no one was
going to make him learn anything. "'Kay already! I
was just messing around. Let me get my books and shit
and I'll meet you there."

Marie smiled and Paul found himself smiling back.
God, he was being a sucker. Paul shrugged and headed
up to get his books.

Jubilee trapped him up on the third floor. He could
feel the violence of her hate, spilling ahead of her
like a bad smell.

"Jesus -!" Paul glanced around. There wasn't
anywhere to go, Paul rubbed his sweating hands on his
pants. He could get around her though, just had to be
careful and - fast. He yanked the door open and burst
out into the hallway.

Jubilee was right there, teeth bared, knife in her
hand. So close that Paul felt the blade graze his arm
as she stabbed at him.

"Shit - !" Paul leapt back. "Jube -"

"You - " She hissed. "I knew it! You fucker. I
heard them - they know what you are. Sent here to
*kill* us! With that pretty charm and that pretty
face - just perfect to get at us. And I knew it.
Knew it before anyone else did - I saw what you did to
Logan. You tried to kill him!"

"No!" Paul cried, backing away from the gleaming
knife, mouth full of sour spit. He felt sick, like he
was gong to puke. Like he felt when Kristoff went
after him. Jubilee hate was thick, nauseating. She
*wanted* to kill him. "It was an accident! Jesus -
Jublilee - I swear!"

"Bullshit!" She yelled and went for him. "You
fucking tried to kill him!"

"The professor said -!"

"He can't even read your mind!" She cried. "You just
got them all going don't you? Even fucked them to
make them like you!"

Paul dodged back, Logan's training paying off, as she
tried a low cut with the knife. But she'd trained too
and longer than he had. The knife was the brightest
thing in the dim hallway. Paul leapt back, twisting
aside as Jube stabbed for his face, he tried to slip
past her - to the stairs and safety. The shorter girl
threw a handful of hot sparks at him, he yelped and
stumbled back, saw the too bright gleam of metal and
grabbed her wrist, heart hammering in panic. Her rage
slammed into his mind. Blame. Hatred. Fear. She
was *afraid* of him.

Paul felt it, that fear, and his own and the rapid
fire beating of her heart. He couldn't stand it. All
that hate directed at him. He couldn't stand it and
he reached out and - made - it - stop.

Jublilee crashed to the floor, falling out of his
hands. Still. Quiet.

Paul stared down at her, hands humming with energy,
luminous in the dark. Everything was very clear and
very quiet. Her eyes were open and blank, mouth
sagging. She looked pretty stupid, really. Paul's
heart was going faster and faster as he realized that
she wasn't moving - wasn't - breathing. Wasn't
anything.

"Jubes?"

Paul gulped, swaying. She'd been telling the truth.
He knew that. Everyone thought he was - was some
kind of killer and - Paul stared at the motionless
girl on the floor. Who were they going to believe
now? Who - him or - or Jubes?

"Oh - fuuck!" Paul whimpered, tears spilling faster
as he leapt over the girl and bolted silently down the
stairs. He had to get out of here. He had to get out
of here now. Before anyone came - upstairs. He
couldn't make himself touch - her.

He slipped out of the side door and - froze. The
garage door was rattling open and he could hear the
low roar of an expensive engine. It was Warren, blond
and perfect, taking one of the cars out, and he didn't
know anything. Paul hurriedly wiped his face on his
shirtsleeve and trotted over, stomach heaving.

"Hey - W-Warren!" He swallowed hard and put on his
professional smile. He pushed as hard as he could -
tasting all those frustrations in the other man -
promising that he could do something about them.
Demanding that the rich mutant, Scott's oldest friend,
look at him. See him. Want him. When Warren's eyes
went over his body before they met his eyes, Paul knew
he had him. "Hey - I'm going stir crazy here. Give
me a ride to the city? I've never even seen one of
those Porches. Give me a ride? Might be - fun."

"Shouldn't you be in class?" Warren's sky blue eyes
narrowed and Paul could see him thinking. Thinking of
his hands on Scott's shoulders. There was jealousy
there and envy and all if it hidden away so no could
see it - not even Warren. But Paul could feel it and
he shifted slightly, rubbing his hands idly over his
hips, watching Warren watch him. He could feel it and
he could use it and he was so - so - scared.

"Nope - " Paul shrugged and gave him another brilliant
smile. "I don't go to classes anymore."

TBC