Exiles in Elseworlds

"Wha--" She takes a deep breath and tries to sit up. "Where--Daddy? Daddy?"

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"Your father is fine, Lorna. Can I call you Lorna?"

The matronly face smiles down at her. Something about the room smells antiseptic, but it doesn't look like a hospital.

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"Yes," she says, automatically courteous to someone older. "Where am I? This isn't--what--?" She frowns, trying to feel for the lines of magnetic force that have always been around her....

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"There was a little fuss at your reception. We have you some place safe, dear."

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"Oh." She settles back, raising a hand to her temple, massaging it carefully. "Is ... do you work with the ... the Darkholmes?"

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A brief look of surprise flashes across Raven's face before the maternal smile is locked back into place.

"Yes. Ms. Darkholme is very concerned with your safety...and your future wellbeing."

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There's a figure clinging to the far wall.

Masked. No eyes visible.

Playing with a sharp talon on the end of his finger, idly.

"We work for someone more important," he says, his voice a growl, lowered from its normal pitch.

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She shrinks back against the bed. "What--who--" Her jaw firms. "I don't know who you are, or who you work for, but when my father finds out--"

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She squeezes the young woman's hand again. "Your father is a great man. I have the utmost respect for him."

Which explains the complete absence of metal in the room.

"...quite unlike my feelings towards the Summers..."

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The talons on the masked man's fingers just tap together gently. A quiet, steady rhythm.

Letting Raven do her thing.

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"The Summers?" repeats Lorna, her hand still in the mysterious woman's grasp. "I know they're not--not nice, but ... Alex is different," she finishes weakly. "He's kind to me, and he's lonely...."

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"Lonely," she repeats. That can be useful if they need to discuss this with the boy. "But you're not a social worker, dear. Open up."

She pulls out a glass thermometer. The middle is filled with something dark blue, clearly not mercury. There's a slightly bitter scent in the air as she carefully wipes down the end. The swab never touches her own fingertips.

"Keep this in your mouth for three minutes."

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Obediently, Lorna opens her mouth for the thermometer to rest under her tongue.

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Raven smiles.

"You don't want to be a Summers. You're a nice girl, with a good future ahead of her."

The thermometer tastes a little like menthol and has a slight tingling effect under the tongue.

Raven stares into her eyes and slowly repeats, "You don't want to be a Summers."

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Lorna's jaw drops. "Well, duh!" The thermometer tumbles out. "But I have to marry him. Daddy said it would help bring peace. Alex isn't so bad. He said all he'd ask for is for us to try and be friends."

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"Daddy's wrong about the peace," comes that low gravel again.

"It'll end your world."

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"What? Why?"

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Another tap of the talons.

"It involes a hell of a lot of quantum physics."

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"You are not making any sense," declares Lorna firmly. Appealing to what she hopes is the better sense of the mysterious thermometer-giving woman, she turns to Mystique. "Please tell me he's the cranky guy here who no one likes because he's always a pain in the tuchus."

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"You're right." A corner of her mouth quirks into a smile. "Sadly, so is he."

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"Buh-but...." Lorna is still bewildered. "Wait, he said quantum physics. Is this about me and Alex having a child who'll become the next Hitler or something like that?"

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"No. If that was the case, we already would've killed you." She keeps up that sweet smile, giving the girl's hand a maternal squeeze. "Or him. It really wouldn't matter."

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"Oh. Um. Thank you. For not killing us." Her expression clears a little to something blander. "So ... what're you going to do to me? And Alex?"

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"For you, some hair dye and a plane ticket will suffice. I was thinking of castrating the boy."

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