Disclaimer: I do not own Angelo. Or Emma Frost. Or Bumkin.
Or Summer. Some of them belong to Marvel, some belong to Me and
Krista.(That's not bad grammar, Me's the author who created Summer with
Krista) I don't own anything, therefore, you shouldn't sue me. There would
be no point, as I have no money, and I'm certainly not making money off of
this. That is all.
Should there be comments, which would be lovely, My e-mail
address is lfrost@galaxy.mb.ca . Please don't be too harsh, as this is my
first attempt at writing fanfiction. But if you hate it, feel free to tell
my before I write any more. 'Cause if I'm that bad, I'll stop. I just ask
that negative stuff be phrased tactfully, as I am fragile.
Just one more thing. I want to thank my near n' dear friend Billie-Dee for
proof reading this, and bolstering my enthusiasm after sessions at the
computer where nothing came out right. Thanks, Bee-Dee.
Now I'm done. You may proceed.
Part One
Angelo looked down at Summer, who had fallen asleep leaning on his
shoulder. Long blond hair fell in gentle curls over the eyes that where now
shut, but he knew to be the purest shade of blue. He could feel the rise
and fall of delicate shoulders, which were accompanied by faint, whispery
sounds, as she breathed deeply in an exhausted rest.
His wife. . .Angelo could not help but pause over that thought, allowing
the feel of it run over him and melt away his worries for a moment. The
delicate girl next to him was his. 'Till death did them part. Feeling a bit
more relaxed, he turned his head to gaze out the tiny, ovular window of the
plane they in. Beneath them was a floor of clouds, thick and puffy. The
shadowed dips and shining peaks inviting further examination, as if
promising access to the secret worlds within.
He felt his eyelids wanting to sag, his own tiredness coupling with
Summer's sleeping, which tugged at him across their telepathic link, to
attempt to pull him down into the realm of dreams. He felt himself drifting
and shook off the feeling abruptly, causing Summer to stir a bit. He
quickly sent a feeling of calmness to her, and she settled back into
restful sleep, deep and undisturbed.
As much as he wanted to sleep, Angelo need to think. About the events of
the day, and what they were going to do now. . .Blocking off his feelings
of worry from Summer, Angelo settled back to consider the days events.
* * * * * *
Earlier that morning, at the Xavier institute:
Angelo watched as Summer leaned out the window of the limo, flashing Emma
Frost's distinctive trademark white and silver. She gave on last wave to
the collected X-teams, relatives, and friends gathered on the steps of the
sprawling Xavier Institute, before sinking back in her seat next to Ange.
She snuggled down next to him, enjoying the simple pleasure of being with
him, alone, for the first time in almost two days.
Well, almost alone, she amended wryly to herself glancing up at Bumpkin,
Ms. Frost's friendly chauffeur. He was tactfully ignoring the newlywed
couple in the back as he concentrated on speeding down the highway to the
airport in Boston. The plane they were booked on left didn't leave for four
more hours, more then enough time to get there, but Bumpkin liked to drive
fast, and this gave him an excuse. She glanced back up at her husband,
seeing he had a contented look upon his face as he gazed back at her from
beneath lowered lids. She smiled at him, suddenly not feeling any need for
conversation, and lay her head down on his shoulder, just reveling in being
there, together, with him.
Angelo looked down at her head and felt again that wonderful mix of love,
contentment, and blatant possessiveness. Oh he knew that the last was a
rather medieval feeling to have, but he couldn't help it. Every time he
looked at her, he got this one steady stream of thought going through his
mind. "We're married, she married me, she's mine now, forever and ever, I'm
married to her, we're married to each other, . . ." and on it went,
variations of the theme, all sounding incredibly wonderful to him.
He felt her look up at him and, glancing down, saw a dancing glint of
merriment in her expressive eyes. She heard that last bit, he thought
blushing a bit. She smiled up at him, amusement fading into tenderness as
she sent a quick thought to him.
I've been thinking like that for weeks. You've only started today?
Up until today I was still fighting the feeling that it was to good to be
true. That any second I was going to wake up, or something would come along
and take you away from me.
Her voice had been teasing, and his was, too,
but there was an underlying note of seriousness. His eyes darkened,
recalling how close he had come to losing her through what he considered
his own stupidity. Summer, hearing the way his thoughts had drifted,
reached up and laid a hand against his cheek, forcing him to look at her,
instead of out the window where his moody gray gaze had drifted.
It was not your fault. It was both of us. You, not quite ready to trust,
and me being insecure that caused us to fight so horribly. But we're beyond
that now, and it's time to stop thinking about it. Besides, Ange, this is
our wedding day. Only happy thoughts allowed.
The last was said in an
imperious tone, and the mischievous glint was back in her eyes.
Angelo smiled down at her, the memories of almost losing her fading before
the memories of their wedding that morning. He knew that he would always
remember how she had looked coming down the aisle on her father's arm, in
that dress that shimmered and swished around her in a gently shining cloud
of white fabric. She had looked a bit nervous, Angelo was pretty sure he
had to, until she had looked up and met his eyes. Then, the entire room
fading away to wherever it is rooms fade to, he could see no-one but her.
The room only returned when it was pointed out to him that his jaw had
begun to make a slow slide down to his muted gray cummerbund. He thought he
might have blushed at that for a moment, but then she had arrived before
him, and it no longer mattered. He blushed again at having to be pulled out
of his daze to say his vows by the throat clearing priest, but not for
long. He was soon taken up by Summer again. He barely remembered the
reception, except for the fact it had taken far to long. But he remembered
the slim, slightly tanned, naked back turned to him in her bedroom when
they where hurriedly changing in her room. He had seen her back before,
lounging about the pool on hot summer days in small bathing suits and what
not, but this was different. They were alone, in her room, and tonight, he
wouldn't be leaving her at her door. When he thought about that, the large
bedroom seemed to grow a great deal smaller, and he had quickly turned to
change out of his constricting formal wear.
The limo pulled up to the front of the airport and the front door opened
to spew out the untraditional chauffeur, Bumpkin. He walked around to the
back door, opening it, and stood there waiting for the newlywed couple to
get out. After standing there with the door open for a while, with no sign
of movement from within, Bumpkin bent over to pear into the darker insides
of the car. There the two sat, entwined within each-others arms, totally
oblivious to the outside world, and seemingly unaware of their arrival.
Bumpkin cleared his throat gently, then again, loader, when there was no
reaction to his first attempt. Two sets of glazed looking eyes turned in
his direction, then looked beyond him to the bustling activity behind him.
Summer turned her eyes up to meet Angelo's.
"It appears that we have arrived," she said, the sound of her voice in
contrast to the comfortable communication between their minds startling the
couple into a more alert mode.
"It would at that, love," he replied in kind.
The two disengaged their tangled limbs and climbed out of the low slung
car into the general panic of the airport crowd. They were taking a
commercial flight as opposed to the schools private jet because the rest of
the school was going to a small research center in Mexico that specialized
in mutant genetics while Angelo and Summer were on their honeymoon. It had
been decided almost a year ago by Emma Frost and Sean Cassidy, the joint
Head master/mistress of the academy, that the Generation X team needed to
learn more about the general genetics of a mutant and so were attending a
two week workshop at the privately funded research center. Summer and
Angelo were going to go to a similar one upon their return. Until then,
they were excused for a romantic interlude in the Virgin Islands.
Once Bumpkin had all their bags piled onto the sidewalk next to the limo,
he climbed back in behind the clouded glass and sped off, leaving the young
couple to fend by them selves. With Summer standing guard over the luggage
while Angelo went off in search of a cart to pile their bags on, they
managed to get into the building without any loss of bags.
(*Authors note:
it happens! Turn your back for one second and half your things can
disappear!)
Summer turned to Angelo once they were inside and started. She wasn't used
to the change the image inducer he had activated before stepping out of the
limo caused to his coloring. Instead of the general gray look she was used
to seeing on him, the image inducer changed his skin tone to a tan color,
and his eyes to a deep, warm brown. She gathered her thoughts and said what
she had intended to say in the first place.
"Ange, do you want to check our luggage now so we don't have to carry it
or stand in a really long line to do it later?"
"Might as well. That way we'll be in no rush to get on the plane later."
As he said this, he looked around until he spotted the desk with the air
line's name and logo spread above it in a bright splash of colors designed
to catch the attention of anybody who saw it. Shunning the more
traditional, sedate logos of the established airlines, the relatively new
firm had elected to go with a vibrant orange plane silhouetted against a
background of vivid blue. Angelo nodded to it. "There's our desk. Come on,
a line's beginning to form already."
They got through the line and checked all but there large backpacks
containing a change of clothes, their Generation X uniforms, some
toiletries, as well as the usual stuff one takes to entertain oneself on a
long and potentially boring trip. If nothing else, being one of the X-teams
taught you to be prepared. The backpacks were being taken aboard the plane
as carry on luggage. Angelo and Summer went to a small café located not far
from their departure gate to wait for the call to board. There they sat,
sipping cold drinks when all hell broke loose.
"Muties are every where! They are working with you every day, they are
sitting with you in the restaurants and malls and theaters. Their children
are going to school with yours. Now is the time to stop this unacceptable
tolerance of the freaks know as Homo Superior! Do not be fooled, they are
not superior, they are freaks and they Must Be Stopped! Join the Friends of
Humanity, and aid us in our quest to purify the human race once again!. ."
On and on it went.
Angelo and Summer both turned to look at the crowd gathering around the
group standing in the middle of the airport, surrounding the man who was
yelling out the hateful stream of words to the people milling about,
waiting for flights. Slowly gaining support. Broadcasting feelings of
anger, and a bit of fear along the link between their minds, both Angelo
and Summer stood at the same time.
It was time to go.
Both knew how little it took to turn a F.O.H rally from a peaceful, though
bigoted, demonstration into a violent, blood-seeking mob. It was not bright
to stick around, especially if you were a mutant. Angelo grabbed both their
backpacks from beneath the spindly legs of the café table and handed hers
to Summer. They quickly paid for the soft drinks sitting unfinished on the
table behind them. The pleasant mood of the day had evaporated into a tense
awareness of the potential danger they were no in. Upon gaining his change,
Angelo grabbed Summer's hand and began walking at a carefully controlled
pace towards the gate with the large, burgundy "H" above it, the letter
matching the ones on the tickets each had carefully stowed in the pockets
of their respective jeans. They were both carefully restraining the urge to
break out into a run, wanting to be as far from the fast growing discontent
crowd of mutant haters. But that would call attention to them in a way that
could easily cause the crowd, which was on the verge of a being a mob now,
to use the pair as an outlet for the hatred being bred by the bald, older
man in the middle of it all, still calling out the vicious slurs against
the mutant race. Except for the hatred twisting the man's features into a
grotesque mask, it would not be hard to imagine him with his baby
grandchild in his arms, or romping about with his older grandchildren on
the front lawn of a house somewhere in the country, away from the busy
city. Except for the hatred.
They had almost reached the gate when Angelo's image inducer failed. His
gray skin was even more noticeable than normal in the bright, unforgiving
light streaming in from the windows that made up the entire outside wall to
their right. A shout came from behind them, one that was quickly echoed
around the mob gathered about the man who was now egging them on to greater
distruction.
And they had been spotted.
This was not a promising start to a honeymoon.
To be finished. . .
