Previously...

“Stay up late reading again last night?” the same voice asked, and Jim detected more than a hint of amusement. “Or maybe you were dreaming about a certain little blonde spit-fire?”

Jim finally looked to the side, and saw a mirror-image of himself, or, at least, a mirror of what he would look like in another twenty-five years. “Dad.”

Chapter Two

“Dad.”

Again, the deep chuckle filled the room. “Don’t ‘Dad’ me, son. You know exactly why you’re distracted.”

Jim winced. Was it really that obvious? Gosh, he hoped that Trixie hadn’t figured it out…

“She has no idea,” Winthrop Frayne assured his son.

“Are you reading my mind again?” Jim accused, tapping his temple. “You promised to stay out of there.”

“I don’t have to read your mind to know what you’re thinking,” the elder Frayne said with a small frown. “You know that.”

Jim winced. “Sorry, Dad. I guess I’m a little bent out of shape over her last fiasco.”

Winthrop grinned, his pride evident. “She used her brains this time, not just her gift.”

“Yeah, and she almost got herself killed,” Jim pointed out. “Did she really think that she would be safe following a known associate of Flame?”

“I think safety was the last thing on her mind,” Winthrop agreed.

“You say that like it’s okay!” Jim protested. “Don’t you care that she could have died?”

Winthrop raised an eyebrow.

“Okay. So it would be pretty hard to kill her.” Jim ran a hand through his ginger hair. “Still, it was dangerous and foolhardy.”

“And successful.”

It was getting harder and harder to ignore the voice of reason, but he was determined to try. “This time. What about next time?”

“Why do you think she stays here, Jim?”

The quiet question echoed in his mind. Why did she stay? She had already learned everything his father could teach her. And, though she enjoyed instructing the other students, it was obvious that her ambition was to be out in the real word, interacting with humans and mutants alike. And quelling the less than civic-minded actions of the criminal mutants.

“She knows that you worry,” Winthrop continued. “She stays here so that you know that she’s safe.”

Jim looked up sharply.

“But if you continue to worry, to pressure her to be someone that she isn’t, she isn’t going to stay. She’ll be gone, and there’ll be nothing you can do about it.”

Jim sank down back into his desk and stared blindly at the paper Neil had turned in. “Hey,” he protested, eager to change the subject. “Since when do you set the policy in my classroom for turning in late papers?”

Winthrop smiled and moved to the door. “I’m still the headmaster here, Jim. And I still know what you’re thinking.”

Jim smiled as the door closed behind his father, mentor, and boss. It was true. Winthrop hardly even needed to use his telepathy any more. And the “punishment” of an extra hour in the lab was exactly what Jim would have decided himself, if he hadn’t been so distracted by thoughts of the most volatile and unpredictable member of their staff.

A soft knock sounded at his door. “Come in,” he called, rubbing his eyes.

“Are you okay?” his sister asked, moving smoothly into the room and stopping beside his desk. “You feel… tense.”

Jim smiled wryly. “You needed your empathic powers to figure that out?”

“It’s pretty hard to miss,” Honey agreed. “And I don’t even need to use my gift to know that it’s because of a certain female staff member.”

“First Dad, then you,” Jim grumbled. “Why is everyone ganging up on me today?”

“What? You didn’t see us coming?” Honey quipped, referring to Jim’s gift of eagle-like eyesight. “You might want to get those glasses checked.”

Jim fingered the glasses he wore to protect his biggest assets. “You know the lenses are only for show,” he teased back.

Honey’s response was cut short by the sound of a brisk knock on the door. Before Jim could invite the person to enter, a tall young man with blond curly hair and glasses pushed open the door. “Jim! She’s gone again!”

Jim’s normally well-contained temper surfaced. “What? She just got back! Where is she off to now?”

“According to my clandestine research and reconnaissance, my talented and foolhardy sister may be endeavouring to locate a known associate of the reprobate she delivered to justice yesterday.”

Honey frowned. “You searched her room again? Trixie is going to kill you!”

“If she lives long enough to do it,” Jim muttered. He tossed the paper back down on the desk. “How long has she been gone? Do you know where she was headed?”

“I didn’t have to search her room,” The Brain protested. “Spit-Fire left clues left and right.”

Jim’s tightly coiled control began to unravel even further. “Do. You. Know. Where—"

“Dude,” Mart, otherwise known as The Brain, interrupted. “She went to New York City.”

“Right.” He grabbed a set of keys from his desk. “Brain, keep in contact with any other information you find. Honey, ask Dad—“

“Ask Dad what?” The mild voice came from the doorway. “To take over your classes?”

Jim stared at him, his fingers twitching on his keys.

“Not this time,” Winthrop said, his tone firm and quiet.

“But—“

“She didn’t just take off. We know where she is and what she’s doing. She has the support and approval of the Academy.”

“You knew about this?” Jim demanded, his green eyes flashing. “You knew, and you didn’t tell me?”

The elder Frayne inclined his head in assent.

Jim threw his keys down on the desk, his hand shaking with anger. And fear, but he wasn’t about to admit to that. “Fine,” he ground out. “I’ll ask…” He ran through his mind, trying to think of a faculty member he could ask to take over his classes. Mart, due to his insatiable appetite for both knowledge and imparting knowledge was already booked solid. Honey lacked the scientific background to handle the higher level physics classes, and Brian, The Healer was away delivering a paper at conference on the biological differences at the molecular level between mutants and humans. Siren, though beautiful and intuitively intelligent, was useless in a classroom as her beauty prevented both the male and female students from concentrating.

“I wish Babbler was ready to start teaching,” Jim muttered, thinking of Trixie's younger brother. While it was true that he talked non-stop about any and every subject, he also had a wide knowledge base, and imparted an astonishing amount of information in a very short time. Bobby was working with Winthrop to develop a filter and to streamline his topic control, but he wasn’t ready for the classroom yet.

“It won’t be long,” Winthrop assured him, his face and tone completely relaxed.

“I’m glad to see you aren’t taking this too seriously,” Jim said through gritted teeth.

“Spit-Fire is fine on her own. And, if I’m not mistaken, she’ll find help from an unusual source.”

Honey nodded. “I can feel a very strong force sympathetic to our cause. They would work well together.”

“Another loose cannon?” Jim demanded. “No. Don’t tell me.” He levelled a glare at his father. “I’ll finish the day and then I’m driving into the City.”

 “Should I go, too, Dad?” Honey asked, her hazel eyes filling with concern.

“No.” Winthrop smiled at his adopted daughter. “No, it will be enough if you’re available when we return.”

“We?” Jim asked. “You’re coming with me?”

Winthrop clapped his son on the back. “No. You’re coming with me. You didn’t think that I would send Trixie out completely on her own, did you? She’s doing reconnaissance now, but she’s promised to wait for back-up before moving in.”

“Oh.” Jim flushed uncomfortably. “I’m sorry, Dad. I know that you’d never endanger her. It’s just…”

The elder Frayne nodded and gestured for the others to leave the room. “I know, son. You take the safety of your loved ones seriously. I understand. Believe me. I understand.”

Jim winced, remembering the death of Katie Frayne. “Dad…”

Winthrop held up a hand. “Don’t, Jim. Don’t. What’s done is done. When you’ve accepted that, you’ll be able to move on. Until then…”

Though he left the rest of the sentence unspoken, Jim knew exactly what his father was saying. Until he could come to grips with the fact that his mother had sacrificed her life for his, he would never be able to accept how Trixie risked her life every day to fight rogue mutants to keep the world safe for others. And until then, Trixie could never truly be his to love.

The day seemed to pass in slow motion. Jim taught his classes mechanically, his thoughts in New York City. Though Trixie had promised to wait for back-up, he couldn’t quell the thought that she might go in early if she felt that it were an emergency, or if someone else were in immediate danger. He reminded himself that she had promised his dad to wait, but the memories of Trixie forgetting her promises in the thick of the action haunted him, and he couldn’t help worrying for her safety.

And who was the person “sympathetic” to her goals? Another mutant? A human? And, while sympathetic was good, it suggested that the person, whoever he was, was not formally allied. Another rogue? The last thing Trixie needed was someone to encourage her in her Lone Ranger tendencies.

Jim winced at his last thought. The last thing Trixie needed was someone to encourage her? Geez. No wonder she refused to tell him anything about her mission before she left. Trying to place himself in Trixie’s shoes, he wondered what his reaction would be if someone tried to prevent him from realizing his dream of working with young mutants to develop their minds, powers, and spirits.

He wouldn’t have stuck around nearly as long as Trixie had.

Somehow, the realization didn’t help him. Jim knew that he needed to accept Trixie’s chosen path in life, her gifting. And yet, a nameless fear swept through him every time she was in the field. Not quite nameless, he corrected himself. The pain and shock of losing his mother over ten years earlier came back with a vengeance every time he knew Trixie was placing herself in harm’s way. But knowing the source of his fear did little to keep it at bay. It only added another layer of guilt.

By the time he slid into the passenger seat of the non-descript black SUV, Jim was at his wit’s end. He tightened his grip on the half-empty bottle of water, feeling the thin plastic ripple in his strong hands. Winthrop joined him, turning the key to start the vehicle before speaking.

“Keep it leashed, Eagle,” he warned the younger man.

Jim relaxed his grip on the bottle, flexing his fingers to relax them. “Right,” he agreed. “Leashed.” He rolled his eyes. “Are you trying to make me feel like a lap dog?”

“Nope,” Winthrop said, pulling smoothly out of the underground parking and onto the quiet, tree-lined road leading to the highway. “Lap-dogs don’t generally need leashes. Wild animals do.”

Jim pressed his lips together. A wild animal? Was that what he had become? He prided himself on his control, intelligence, and foresight. Surely he wasn’t as out of control as his father was implying. He winced as the bottle crumpled in his hand, nearly sending water everywhere. Maybe he was just a little out of control…

“She’s good, Jim,” Winthrop reminded him. “You know she’s good. She’s harnessed her power so tightly that there’s almost no chance of an accidental explosion anymore.”

Jim nodded, his eyes on the road before them. Willing the vehicle to drive faster.

Winthrop grinned. “Remember when she set off those fireworks by accident? Best 4^th of July ever!”

“And the shortest,” Jim agreed, a reluctant grin on his face. “A twenty-minute fireworks display in the span of ninety seconds.”

“The students still beg for Spit-Fire to be in charge,” Winthrop chuckled.

“That was fun,” Jim agreed. Trixie’s open-mouth shock had been even more fun, he recalled, but he wasn’t about to tell his dad about that.

“She’s an adrenaline junkie,” Winthrop continued. He glanced at his son out of the corner of his eye. “You’re a brave man for loving her.”

Jim snorted. “Brave, my foot,” he protested, knowing that it was useless to pretend that he wasn’t in love with the beautiful woman who had turned his life upside down upon her arrival at the Academy almost ten years previous. “I’m terrified that she’ll get herself killed. Where’s the bravery in that?”

Winthrop studied the road before replying. “It takes a brave man to open up his heart after a loss. Truth be told, you’re a braver man than I am.” He looked away from the road just long enough to catch his son’s eye. “She came into your life only a few months after your mother died. I know you don’t think of her as a replacement for your mother—”

Jim snorted.

“But the truth is, you have the events entwined in your mind. It’s natural, Jim. And so is the fear that you will lose her. But, just because it’s natural doesn’t mean it’s okay to continue on that path. Revenge is natural, too, and I’m sure you know how unhealthy that can be.”

Jim nodded. His father had worked very, very hard to keep both of them in control after the death of Katie at the hands of a fellow mutant. The murderer had been brought to justice, and both Winthrop and Jim slept better at night because their consciences were clear.

“So how do I stop?” Jim asked. “What do I do with the fear?”

Winthrop sighed. “I wish I knew.”

They drove in silence for several miles.

“It may help for you to see her in action,” Winthrop said thoughtfully. “You usually only show up when she’s in trouble, or if there’s a problem to contain.”

“Because I never know what’s happening until after it’s happened!” Jim protested.

“That wasn’t a criticism, Jim.”

With a sigh, Jim slouched in his seat. “I know. It’s true, though.”

“Do you think that you would worry less if Trixie told you her plans in advance?”

Jim had to think about that for a few minutes. “Maybe?” he said hesitantly.

“You’ll get your chance tonight,” Winthrop told him. “This would probably be a good time to test the theory.”

Jim grinned in spite of himself. “For scientific purposes, of course.”

“Of course,” Winthrop agreed.

“Our school does pride itself on its scientific research.”

Jim snorted. “Out of necessity, of course. It’s kind of important to know what your own body is doing, and is capable of doing.”

“More like imperative. So, how is Todd doing in the classroom?” Win asked, referring to a new student.

Jim winced. “Academically, he’s doing fine.”

“But the whole temperature thing is a challenge,” Win surmised.

“He hasn’t learned to control it yet. One minute the air around him is normal room temperature, the next minute it’s like you’ve stepped into a sauna. Or a deep freeze.”

“You’ve tried relaxation and concentration techniques with him?” Win questioned.

Jim nodded. “He’s learning, but he’s not there yet. Right now, it takes an extremely high level of mental awareness for him to keep the temperatures regulated. It’s hard on him, and it’s hard on everyone else in the room. The rest of the students are handling it well. They’ve all been in his shoes, trying to control their gifts. But that doesn’t really help when the room temperature is fluctuating between forty and ninety degrees.”

“That would be difficult,” Win agreed.

“Actually, it hasn’t been so bad this past week. There’s a race to see who can notice the temperature changes the fastest. If it’s cooling off, whoever notices first starts singing a Christmas carol. If it’s heating up, they sing a Beach Boys song.”

Win’s eyes lit up. “Seriously?”

Jim nodded. “I was worried that it would make Todd even more self-conscious about the temperature changes, but the other students have such a good attitude that it seems to be working out. It’s helping him to notice the changes sooner. And the best part is, I’m using the songs to throw in a few history lessons. You wouldn’t believe all the things you can learn from Christmas carols!”

The two continued to discuss students and teaching strategies until they reached the outskirts of New York City. The closer they drew to the city, the more agitated Jim became. Though he didn’t want to raise the topic, he couldn’t stop himself.

“So, who exactly is Trixie going after?”

“Lucas Harris,” Win replied instantly. “Career arsonist and all-around trouble-maker.”

“Sounds like a real prince,” Jim said wryly. He thought for a moment longer. “Arsonist? Is that his power?”

Win nodded.

“That can’t be good,” Jim groaned. “What are he and Trixie going to do? Have a stare down to see who can make the biggest blaze?”

“Hopefully not,” Win said. “Luke’s fires are small, but extremely hot. Almost impossible to get close enough to fight them.”

Jim shuddered. “How is Trixie planning to bring him in?”

“Out-manoeuvre him, of course.”

“And how is she going to do that?” Jim demanded. “I know she’s good, but it’s not like she can walk through fire.”

“There won’t be any fires to put out if everything goes according to plan.” Win guided the SUV towards the inner city, keeping careful track of his surroundings.

Jim raised an eyebrow, his attention on the conversation. “Have you met Spit-Fire? Seriously? Nothing goes according to plan around her. Nothing!”

Win shrugged. “She does have a… creative streak,” he agreed.

“Creative streak?! Don’t you remember the Connecticut Kidnapping Fiasco?”

“Which one?” Win demanded with an impish grin.

Jim threw up his hands in frustration. “That’s my point!”

“I won’t tell you to relax, because I know it’s not going to happen. What I will do is give you a break-down of the plan.” Winthrop proceeded to outline the plan to neutralize the rogue mutant, and Jim felt his tension ease. The change in his attitude was minimal, but he hoped that it was enough of a start.

The slightly-relaxed feeling lasted until they parked next to Spit-Fire’s cobalt blue SUV, where she was supposed to be waiting for them.

The vehicle was empty.

“You said she would wait,” Jim reminded her father.

“No, I said that she agreed to wait. I don’t predict the future.” Winthrop scanned the street, vehicles, and buildings around them.

With a sigh, Jim turned his attention to the surrounding area. He used his eagle-like vision to zoom in on several points of interest before he found her. “She’s half a block up, in the alley,” he stated, catapulting himself from the vehicle. “And she’s not alone.”

“Wait, Jim!” his father said. “Slow down. I’m not sensing any terror, so she’s not in too much trouble yet. In fact…”

But Jim was already out of earshot. He speed-walked as inconspicuously as a six foot three inch red-head could toward Trixie. In seconds he was at the mouth of the alley, staring into its shadowy depths in consternation.

Trixie Belden, the love of his life, was hunkered down amidst the garbage and filth, staring intently at a fire escape further down the alley. He was relieved to note that she was still in surveillance mode, and not chasing someone down.

His relief was short-lived. Like a swirling mist stealing over unsuspecting countryside, a figure appeared out of nowhere and glided toward her. Jim blinked and concentrated his enhanced vision, but couldn’t come up with a clear picture of the man who had somehow materialized.

Trixie! He tried to form the warning on his lips, but no sound came out. He watched in horror as the black form moved closer to her, and stopped directly behind his oblivious prey.