Exiles in Elseworlds

But it's so much more fun to watch you two fighting, Lorna wants to say but doesn't. She shepherds her thoughts in another direction. "Daddy just wants us safe," she says, lacing her fingers and resting them on her knee. "It's what he wants most of all, always. He lost so much of his family in the Holocaust." Unbidden tears come to her eyes as she remembers the stories he has told (sometimes by saying very little) about the loved ones he has lost. "He was a Nazi hunter for a while, but that's not the only way to make people safe, you know? He's told us so many times about how making people afraid of you is more work than ... than giving people reasons to love you."

Like Isaac, av shalom.

"But the Summers," she says, reining in her emotions at last. "The Summers don't care if people love them or not. They--they control people. What if the marriage is part of a plan to control more people? Somehow. I don't know how. Alex hasn't told me anything about that, but the way he looks...."

Like a hunted animal. Like how she imagines her father's family looked before they came to the camps.

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"Control." Raven steeples her fingers. "I understand the wife and daughter are both telepaths. Do you think they're conspiring to use the men to somehow... expand their abilities?"

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If only she'd asked Lorna who designed Jean Summers' clothing, or who she was rumored to be using to cuckold Scott Summers....

Lorna shakes her head miserably. "I don't know. I don't know that much about how their family works. I don't even know that much about how my family works. I'm just ... the baby."

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"Listen, Princess. We're doing this the hard way. I'm going to save your world. Please help me save your life in the process."

This version of Lorna seems as feather brained as the one back home, but thankfully she seems to lack the Princess's ambitions. Raven sighs.

"Your father has money. If you don't know what the Summers are getting out of this union, then what do you think he's getting out of it."

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"No more fighting," she says promptly. "He wants peace between our families."

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Raven glares up at the wall crawler. It's good for them to see an iteration of the Lord Lensherr trying to do right by his people. She knows the man better than any of them, despite their claims.

"You have no idea how badly I hate to disappoint your father," she says gently. "Perhaps that's a task for the next generation. You have to serve higher needs, though."

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For so much of her life, Lorna has wanted to be free of her family. But the prospect of never seeing them again--especially her nephews, especially Billy, or to miss Luna growing up--is devastating.

Her father had understood. He had arranged for a separate household, but he hadn't sent her into exile.

"What ... what do you think I should do?" she asks.

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Spider-Man isn't convinced that this Magneto is a good guy. An arranged marriage is still an arranged marriage - primitive, backwards and pretty damn controlling.

"Dye your hair," is his helpful response. "Above all else. Grab enough of his money to live on, but not so much that he'll miss it."

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The girl clearly isn't in love with the Summers boy. That makes this easier.

"You're leaving New York. When you're done dying your hair, I'll cut it, photograph you, and finish your new ID. Pick a name. We'll put you on a plane to California, where you can start a new life."

She crosses her arms, looking sternly at the girl. "You will never see Alex Summers again. If you do, we will know."

Because we'll still be here.

"And if that's the case, we will kill you both. Do you understand?"

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Why don't you just kill the Summers who aren't Alex? she wants to ask. Then Daddy wouldn't be worried, and I could stay here.

But she's had too many years of doing what older people tell her to do. She sighs. "As long as it's not dyed red. Got any blonde?"

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"Dark brown is more anonymous, but I have some honey blonde in here." Raven nods for Spiderman to keep an eye on the girl. She pockets the stone knife and heads to the bathroom.

When she returns, she's holding a small bag of dyes. "I also have colored contacts. Again, I suggest brown. Until you're settled in a new place, err on the side of mousy. You don't want attention."

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"It's California," Lorna says with more authority in her voice than she's had since she first came to. "Anyone who isn't a blonde is going to stick out." She takes the bag and searches for the honey blonde dye, wrinkling her nose at the smell of the dyes, or maybe at the thought of being mousy.

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Raven wrinkles her nose right back, but then sighs. "You're right. You're too fair to pass for Hispanic. Go blonde." She fishes out both some bleach to strip the green from the girl's hair and some honey blonde dye to put a little color back in. "There's some fire engine red lipstick in there, too. Tastes like strawberries."

She really looks at Lorna's figure for the first time. "If you're comfortable wearing something low cut, you can ensure no one gets a good look at your face."

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"Um ... how low-cut?"

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"Just a second."

Raven walks into the bathroom. No need to demonstrate her powers in front of the girl.

When she comes out, her borrowed face is just as mousy, but now shadowed with a fedora. The sack-like nurse's dress is replaced with a pinstriped suit, the plunging neckline adorned with just enough lace to leave it unclear whether or not she's wearing a bra.

"Something like this. I hope you can walk in four inch heels."

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Her chin lifts proudly. "I can dance in them." She can't help a covetous glance at the outfit. "Who's your designer? I don't recognize--though the width of the lapels suggests a Van Dyne...."

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"Lovely, isn't it?" Raven spins on one heel, then leans back and winks. "Off the rack."

She lights a cigarette. The freedom to smoke will leave her missing this world once they go.

"Go on - start bleaching. I want to get you on a plane tonight."

Raven stretches out on the bed. That's another luxury she may not be able to enjoy for a few more worlds. She blows a smoke ring up at Spiderman. "You comfortable with this, or should we take the boy out of the equation once she's safely out of town?"

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"Remember you said that." She takes another leisurely drag off her cigarette. "I'll be fine if we end up stuck here due to sentimentality. Can you say the same?"

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This world is so familiar, yet more reminiscent of her past than the present. She thinks of the man she encountered in the lobby, and of that painful moment of regonition and rejection.

"I'm ready to go home." Her eyes narrow. "Can you say the same? You're running from something, kid. Not running to. I'm old enough to know the difference."

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That gets a sharp look, even from behind the mask. Yeah, she's a billion years old, but being called 'kid' has never sat well.

Although he'd let him fall once before. And he's lost a lot of the reasons he had to keep going. And he's in control of a nasty corporation that makes him a demon to the people he's been trying to fight for... and these worlds they've been to actually have fresh air you can breathe without taking anti-pollutant pills...

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"One hell of a fucked up concience you have there. Do you plan on following this cannibal for the rest of his life to make sure he doesn't snack on anyone else? Or are you going to let his future innocent victims suffer and die? Let him live, their blood is on your hands."

Mmm. Smoking in bed. Shaw won't let them smoke anywhere on the Helicarrier anymore. All the good hotels are non-smoking. She'd forgotton just how relaxing it can be. She takes one last long, satisfying drag then pops the filter in her mouth.

Her eyes widen in shock. She rolls over on one side and gags, spitting it back out. "Sheisse! Is that what they normally taste like?" She stares at the half chewed filter in disgust.

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Spidey just smirks under the mask, as that reaction makes up for the arrogant lecture.

"Yes. Cigarettes taste like poison, because they ARE poison. Outlawed in 2030, and only bitchy libertarians cared."

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