I do not own X-Men anything.

And I wish Sean could have lived.

What Makes a Man a Man

Epilogue

Hastily strung up tents flapped around the compound.

Sheltering the bodies, living and dead, pulled from the rubble of the downed main building.

One tent in particular though contained only one body.

" . . . Subject number 94673 . . . Sean Cassidy, aka, Banshee . . ."

Blood drawn. Skin samples. Hair samples.

" . . . 0320 hours . . . attempted escape attempt . . ."

Weight. Height.

". . . self-induced extended electroshock . . . cardiac disruption . . ."

Physical detriments duly noted and recorded.

" . . . severe organ damage . . . subsequent failure . . ."

Photographed.

All for the posterity of science.

Head of Research, Bolivar Trask dotted the i's and crossed the t's himself.

" . . . subject confirmed and declared deceased."

Not trusting others to complete even this so basic and routine a task.

Jotting a few final notes on his clipboard before tucking it under his arm.

Clicking off the recorder.

Placing it along with the pen into his left labcoat pocket.

And gazing silently at the corpse.

After a long moment, he blew out an exhalation of frustrated breath.

And placed a hand on the still body of the dead mutant.

Before lowering his head in disappointment.

"Sir?"

He turned and looked up at the military officer approaching him at a crisp pace.

"Yes?"

The man paused then spoke flatly.

"The girl, sir. The men are still looking but . . ."

He paused at the fire suddenly burning in the scientist's blue eyes.

Then squared his shoulders resolutely.

"She's breached the perimeter, sir. She has escaped."

Bolivar Trask's hard expression bore into the man.

"That is unacceptable, lieutenant. She must be found. Expand the search area."

His tone, as usual, was mild. But his command brooked no argument.

The soldier's face remained a stone blank.

"Yes sir," he replied.

Then turned on his heel and marched away.

Bolivar Trask turned back to the still form on the table before him.

The burned-out shock collar had been removed.

A solid black band discolored the skin underneath.

Deep purple flesh hung under the deflated eye sockets.

A waste, he thought glumly. Such a waste of a good specimen.

And the girl. Such effort and time expended. Such potential.

Now gone.

"We'll find her," Trask nodded, reassuring himself quietly. "We'll bring her back."

They didn't.

The wailing of a newborn cut through heavy, thick air in the delivery room.

The cry was petulant, undulating.

And strong.

"It's a girl!" the nurse exclaimed. "A beautiful baby girl!"

As another nurse took charge of caring for the mother, the first cut and clamped the cord.

Wiped the child down quick with a damp cloth. Suctioned her mouth.

Cleaned her eyes, checked her vital signs.

Measured and weighed her.

And wrapped her in a warm blanket.

The child was still crying.

"Somebody wants her mama, doesn't she, yes, she does," the maternity attendant cooed.

And laid her gently down in her young mother's embrace.

"Oh my, look at all that red hair," she admired softly. "I don't think I've ever seen a baby with so much hair before."

Then smiled kindly as the girl burst into tears.

"Oh sweetheart, it's okay. Look, she's just fine. So strong and healthy."

Both mother and daughter gradually quieted though the elder continued to weep and cling to the younger.

"What are you going to name her?"

The End.

Well, I tried to pay tribute to the great, underutilized character of Sean Cassidy and even to the fascinating character villian of Bolivar Trask. They just have so much to offer, I think.

Thanks to brigid1318, GladerTributeCamper, and K.J. Bollinger for so loyally and stalwartly reviewing thru this whole thing. I hope you enjoyed it! If that's the sentiment. ;)

Well, what do you think?