The summer was warm this year. The sun high above seemed to have gotten brighter over the years. Many would say they could remember being able to look directly at that glowing fireball in the sky for a least a couple seconds in the summer before having to look away. Now it seems as if someone had cranked up the brightness meter on the sun itself and simply glancing at it was enough to burn your eyes out of sockets. Some place the depletion of the ozone layer, some say people are remembering it wrong, others that they are just getting too old. In any case, it was a fairly warm summer day so none could be faulted for wanting to spend some quality time at the pool.

Xavier’s was no exception.

Except the pool was in no way busy today. For a place like Xavier’s, full of young mutants with a variety of powers and varying degrees of emotional well-being, it was a strange sight. Who wouldn’t want to be at the pool during a hot day. Well, the answer to that was simply that it was currently being reserved for a single person.

Jorge Cervantes, N.Y.P.D.detective and mostly retired member of the X-Men, needed the pool today. Not to sooth the beginning stages of arthritis he felt in his left hip, or for a private rendezvous with his wife, the school counselor, Gemma. No, it was a once in a blue moon occurrence where Jorge needed a private, calm place simply for him to study, to focus, and to channel his abilities.

A tall man with thin build, Jorge sat cross legged under the beating sun. His caramel hued skin toasting more so than usual under the rays, the grayish tanktop and unbuttoned Hawaiian shirt he wore over it did little to protect his skin from crisping. Khaki shorts adorned his lower half, protecting his posterior from the heating of the concrete ground beneath him. All the while, the detective kept his eyes closed behind a pair of dark sunglasses. He looked more like a businessman doing yoga on vacation than a mutant, but moments later that would change.

Sitting at the edge of the pool, Jorge was unmoving. There was barely a breeze and yet the surface of the pool itself was rippling with abandon. Turning and sloshing, the waters began to move with more wild freedom until they formed a little maelstrom of movement and began to lift out of the cement shell of the pool. Soon there was a massive bulge of water in the air, spinning and forming itself into a sphere. A few water droplets managed to escape, falling back down into the now empty pool but the rest seemed to be collected until Jorge’s grasp.

It had been decades since Jorge first discovered he was a mutant. Years that he had to hone his abilities. And it was practice like this that ensured that his skill remained sharp.

The floating ball of pool water soon began to change. The detective lifted his hands, fingers arched with the tips pointed towards a corresponding finger on the other hand. As he flexed his digits, moving them as if he were manipulating clay, the ball of water reacted and moved exactly as he gestured. First the ball smoothed out into a perfect sphere, then flattened out its sides into a cube, then an octahedron, and finally a dodecahedron before smoothing all out into a perfect sphere again.

And all the while, Jorge seemed unfazed by it. Unmoving as he manipulated the shape of all this water and keeping his concentration with barely another thought.

He was 25. Not 42, or 50, or whatever age He had been before the de-aging had occurred. But still, too old to hang around the mansion for no good reason. So no, He was not there to dive in the pool. It was a school, kids were kids, He was 25. He didn’t live there. He had a new life as a journeyman electrician. It had taken years to recover and get his life together, but he had done it. He was here in Khaki shorts light blue polo to meet with cold steel. For training. And maybe to join up.

A student had told him one of the x-men, on the older side, was at the pool. Older side? Sounded like Sam. Ashton had not asked more questions. Maybe He should have.

No one had told him the pool was off limits. Requisitioned for something. He had approached, and there- the water— had begun to move. Not ice, not frozen. Water. So not cold steel. Ashton had been ready to turn and go. Curiosity got him. That cat killer.

Who was causing the water? It has no grunting man, concentrating and moving arms. He may have expected that. Someone concentrating like their life depended on it, like a movie. Or a show. Like that one about the monk on that streaming service? With the kids and elements? The kids from Antarctica and all that. No buff guy grunting, no young girl waving her arms. Just… was that a man in a Hawaiian shirt?

Ashton stopped, fifteen feet away.

”Thats really impressive.” Ashton said.

Jorge might remember a man he once knew. They had a resemblance. If his face had been maybe 10 years older, it would have been spot on.

Water churned and held its shape. While not usually so easily confined, the person who manipulated, willed all this liquid to hold a firm, geometric shape, was in no way a novice at it. Jorge Cervantes, born and raised around beaches and waves, over the years had learned to talk to this amorphous liquid. To bend with it. To will it. To keep it shaped underneath his command. He was by no means a master of it when he began, but so many years later and with so much practice under his belt, it was no wonder that Jorge had a firm grasp on the element now in his advanced age.

Advanced age? Even Jorge shuttered that at descriptor. Just who writes this shi-

Jorge is suddenly aware that someone else is nearby. The footsteps are heard first, subtle and intended to not be threatening. As they drew closer, Jorge still did not turn but instead opened his eyes once he heard the compliment. A slight quirk to the corner of his mouth and Jorge continued to soften the edges of the sphere of water, turning his hands this way and that and forming it into something reminiscent of a very large basketball, lines and texture included. Save for the fact that it is clear liquid, it could almost be mistaken for the real thing, just on a massive scale.

Holding this shape, however, did cost more energy than Jorge was willing to put into it so carefully broke down the water into an amorphous blob again.

But that wasn’t the only reason he stopped. When he had glanced over to the newcomer, Jorge had to pause. The face looked familiar. Someone he had worked with before, but where? While in New York there was only two places he had worked with anyone: the N.Y.P.D. and the X-Men. This kid didn’t seem like an X-Man so that gave him only one option:

”Wait…Detective Drake?” He asked cautiously. He didn’t work with Ashton Drake much while at the M.R.C. but the two had passed one another enough in the halls to know one another. So who was this? A relation? Cousin? Before Jorge could carry that thought any further, he recalled the events of the de-aging epidemic that had occurred throughout New York; one that had affected him as well, albeit temporarily. Drake, as it appears, was not so lucky. ”...you are Ashton Drake?” He asked carefully.

While watching him, Jorge released his hold on the water and suddenly it all came spilling back into the previously empty shell of a pool. Water crashed and spilled upwards, some of it climbing over the edges high enough to splash the both of them, but a gesture from Jorge was enough to halt the splashing water in its tracks.

A water basketball? Well, that was kind of neat. Took some real skill to get it that finely detailed. And the guy knew it. Aaaand then, it was gone. Blob again, blob again.

And the guy was— looking at him? Looking at him, as if some flicker of recognition? And then he asked him a name—

>>> ”Wait…Detective Drake?”

He said it carefully, as if uncertain.

Ashton arched an eyebrow, and crossed his arms. With what he was wearing, a polo and khakis, it absolutely did not look intimidating. More… mildly miffed, maybe? Perturbed? Confused?

The wheel was turning. The hamster was moving. Working its ass off. Ashton let him work towards his final destination. He got there, confirming his initial theory.

>>> ”...you are Ashton Drake?” Jorge asked carefully.

The water splashed loudly back into the pool, just as Ashton said ”Yeah.”

Water came at him, like it was gonna splash, but the man put a halt to that. He smiled at him, like “thanks.”

”I’m just an electrician these days.” He said. ”Long story. Afraid I don’t know your name, though. I’m sorry about that. Easy fix, though. I’m Ashton. And you are—?” He patted his chest at the intro, and gestured the man’s way.

Jorge was astounded as he looked upon a man who assisted a shadow of himself. Though he didn't work with Ashton much, he had his own partner, he still respected anyone who or on the badge and did their job right. Ashton was one of the few who did and had earned the older detective's respect more than enough times. But to that he had succumbed to the devilish effects of the Well-Drinkers for a seemingly permanent amount of time…the much older detective felt sadness creep is way up in the back of his mind. But why was he really upset? Was it because it happened to a good man? Or because it almost happened to him?

He blinked as Ashton confirmed his identity. It seemed he had fully accepted his fate and alluded as much when he confirmed that he was just an electrician now. Jorge nodded understandably, the sound of swishing water in the pool blending in the with the sounds of the world around him. By the time he water settled, he took a deep breath and realized he was asked a question.

”Sorry. Yes…you wouldn't remember. Detective Jorge Cervantes…” he confirmed as he gestured to himself, mirroring Ashton's own. ”We, ugh, used to be colleagues. Somewhat. Worked in the same department.” Jorge nodded as he finally stood up. Awkwardly he played his pockets before continuing gesturing between the two of them. ”I…kinda understand what you're going through. Went through months as a 20 something again. Though…clearly didn't affect me as much as you. Was dicey for a moment there. But, seems like youre acclimating well?”

”Oh, God no.” Ashton laughed.

He could laugh about it now. Good. That was progress.

”It took a long time to acclimate. Finally getting somewhere though… hmm… Detective Cervantes,” Ashton held his chin thoughtfully. Killer name, that. ”Yeah. I knew I was a cop. Kept a journal. Sort of helped in picking up the pieces. And I have family. My sister filled me in on a lot of stuff. I Tried being a cop again, but…” He made a gesture, like placing his hand flat in the air, then see-sawing it so it wobbled up and down. He did it heavily skewed to one angle, though, to… you know? Imply a lack of balance, or something being wildly wrong with that.

”Electrician seems to be working out much better..”

None of his coworkers wanted him fired or dead, at least. So much less drama. He did not want to unpack that with a cop, though. He’d only just met the man he’d met years ago. I mean, come on.

”I’m glad your situation worked out for you. The red tape and government paperwork alone for having to deal with ALL that nonsense… if I could have just gone back to the right age. Sheesh. I didn’t even know that was an option. Wonder if she—“ He cut off. He’d been caught monologuing. And if the girl from his diary, the one he’d been trying to get justice for, had just aged up after a few months… what a wasted few months he would have had. He shook the thought out of his head… by shaking his head.

Though Jorge had experienced it, he still had a hard time believing that the person he was talking to had once been an older (not older than him) and trust colleague. The deaging menace that had swept through New York had been a tragedy Though there were few, if any, deaths, in many ways it was much the same. For a lot of people, families were ruined beyond repair. People were deaged to levels where they no longer recognized spouses, loved ones, even children. Worlds had been turned upside down and all because a cult of fanatics wanted nothing more than to destroy mutants simply for existing. It was a true tragedy and one that the world was still trying to come to grips with.

But, as Jorge looked upon the much younger Ashton, he could see that they certainly seemed to be in a better headspace. Jorge had almost lost his wife and children, ready to leave New York and return to Florida where he knew his remaining family still lived. Fate had been kind to him, however, as it appeared that the aging serum had quickly burned out of his system. Unlike so many others, he had been lucky.

Ashton, on the other hand, was starting over. The detective had to grant it to him, he did seem in good spirits.

”Wrote about me?” he smirked and shook his head. ”I’m almost afraid to ask what the older you really thought about me.” He held up his hands defensively. ”So I won’t. Privacy and all that.”

Jorge could only whistle at the idea of having to do all that paperwork. He had been in the process of it himself before he aged back to his rightful age. But for those who couldn’t return…he could only imagine how much longer and more difficult a road that was.

”Well I’m glad you found your feet,” he said with a nod. ”Certainly a bit less stressful than a cop in one of the most densely occupied cities in the world. Probably better benefits.” Jorge considered this for a moment then shook his head. No. No sense changing careers now. He blinked then and gestured to Ashton. ”If I may ask, what are you doing out here at the Mansion. Don’t recall you coming out here much before the deaging. Looking for someone specific?”

Oof. Had his past self written about this person? The diary he had read had concerned more recent events. Stuff with a former partner. There were certainly previous volumes. Unless the journaling had begun much later, maybe a psychiatrists suggestion, to help unpack a trauma. He kept a polite smile on his face as Cervantes spoke. It was probably the trauma thing. But He did journal now. It helped with emotional constipation.

He had not searched in closets at the apartment for more journals. After the drama, past digging felt wrong. You can’t go home. He may have had lots to write about the man, if such books had existed. Or maybe they did? Who knew?

>>> . ”So I won’t. Privacy and all that.”

”I much prefer making new relationships rather than poring over old. Nice to meet you, and all that.” He aimed for friendly tact.

Jorge whistled about Paperwork.

He was glad Ashton had made it. Ashton nodded a “me too” nod. It was wild what he had learned about people sharing his name, too. No, he was not connected to creepy dolls. And now he knew too much. Secrets he’d take to his grave.

Jorge spoke on.

Yeah. Not being a cop was great. Lot of baggage there He left bagged with a tight smile and a “yep!”

>>> ”If I may ask, what are you doing out here at the Mansion. Don’t recall you coming out here much before the deaging. Looking for someone specific?”

”I made an assumption that turned out wrong. Someone told me an X was out here. I thought it was Cold Steel, but it is you instead. Heh. Whoops.”

Explanations were needed so he shared.

”He has been helping me with my mutation. I was a lot older when my mutation activated, I guess, so I had to figure out some things. But the mutation kept growing, after the mind regressed. It still wanted to be at grown-Me levels. So that was fun. Powers, growing. Changing. Making things… swap.”

He mentally made two pool chairs switch places in Jorge’s sight. A vague scent of cinnamon remained, wafting.

”Used to just be me who traded places with things, I am told. Now it’s whatever. I was going to talk with Cold Steel about maybe joining up with the X people… now that I’ve gotten a better handle on it. Feet beneath me, yadda yadda. Being a police officer may not have worked out, different mind sets from the Then Me to the present, I guess. But I still want to help others.”

What did they make a full grown man? A trainee first? Gotta walk before running? Probationary X? What?

Ashton shrugged.

Jorge had to concede that point. He remembered when he first deaged how many times people tried to get him to remember who he was and the people that he had known. He was scared, frustrated, and after so many times of trying, it was just easier to start over again, no? Why not just start with a clean slate instead of all the pressure to remember faces you have no recollection of? For that, he did have to agree with Ashton and nodded his head both in respect and agreement.

It was time to start fresh. Especially if it seemed that Ashton's particular case world not end the same way his own did.

But back to the matter at hand. Why was Ashton out here? If he had nothing to do with the MRC anymore and he was back to a youthful age, why bother around the mansion? His question would be answered when Ashton revealed it was just mistaken identity. He came out here looking for an X. Jorge happened to be the wrong X.

Jorge nodded and smirked. ”Ah, looking for Sam I see.” He snorted. ”Easy to get us confused. Only two old men left on the scene.” It was a joke. Sam was no where near Jorge's age. He just happened to act like it sometimes.

In his periphery he saw movement. Two things hand changed places, chairs. Jorge was aware of Ashton's abilities but the last he had seen, they were as Ashton described, himself and another object. Now it seems his powers have evolved and, with Sam's help, Ashton was able to get a handle on them again. Jorge was impressed. Took him years to handle his own abilities and for Ashton to have managed them after so much trauma was a testament to his fortitude.

”Kudos to you,” he agreed. ”Very true there a lot of different ways to help without being a cop. X-Men isn't a bad path to take.” Jorge thought for a moment before he continued. ”You know if you need any help I'll happily offer. I'm a part-time member myself. If you're serious, that us, in joining. Though if youd rsther wait for Sam I one hundred percent understand.”

>>> ”Easy to get us confused. Only two old men left on the scene.”

Ashton snorted right back. ”Only two? Wow. I thought there were more.”

Hadn’t there been another one? Flamboyant? He had seen him in the news. Liked being flashy? Maybe he had retired.

He shared his powers, gave his explanation, and must have impressed Cervantes because the man was suddenly offering to help if he could. Which was what incredibly nice. Ashton smiled at that. He appreciated it.

”You know, I really appreciate that.” Ashton said. ”I think I need to work on getting missions though, don’t it? I don’t know how this all works. Heh: is there a probationary x man stage? What do we call the new hires?” He scratched the back of his head.

Was this man offering to take him on missions, too? Or had he merely been focused on paperwork? Training sessions? Ashton did not know.

He was down for anything, even if it was just talking.

”Age is a state of mind, young grasshopper,” Jorge started to say. But he stopped short after that and didn’t elaborate any further. He wasn’t some ultra-wise kung fu master teaching Ashton how to balance and do a crane kick on a wooden post.

Anyways.

Jorge really didn’t mind that he was one of the oldest members on the team. The detective had joined the X-Men very late in life and didn’t have the choice of joining them in his youth like so many others. But while that may have been the case, Jorge was used to working with a team thanks to his years in the police force. He knew how to build trust and to maintain it with his teammates.

Not only that but Jorge was used to throwing his life into the path of danger if it meant that someone would be able to make it home to their family. As much as humans try to turn away from danger, Jorge was willing to run towards it.That was a rare quality in some people so at times he felt like those that had it, should do everything they could with it.

It was a shame that Ashton had left the police force, but extremely understandable given the circumstances. However, it was good to see him finding another way to help and use his abilities for good. Being a member of the X-Men was a good way to go.

After listening to Ashton, the older detective smirks and nods his head. ”Yeah, that’s pretty much how it is. A full member of the team will work with you on a mission or two to get that status set up.” He winces though, his hands slipping into the pockets of his shoulder. ”And…I’m afraid the term is…X-Trainee...” he finishes with a pained sigh. He still wasn’t over being called that for as long as he was.

If age was a state of mind. It was probably Florida. There was duality in Florida. Old folks, set in their ways. And freaking insane people, doing whatever possessed them.

After He had finished speaking, Cervantes shared some bad news.

”Ugh. Trainee sounds like training wheels. Like I should wear an apron and be learning to make lattes. I mean, it makes sense for kids, but adults?” He gestured with both hands, like come on.

”Wait. They didn’t make you— no….”

Animals.

—
So it was as He thought. Missions. Several. Then getting signed on by the old guard. Full X men. And how long to get out of being trainee? Become full, himself. Not that He was full of himself. He could pay dues, be the lower rank. Earn it.

” What’s the costume situation like? Guess I don’t know. Matching? Leather? Kevlar? Mini— never mind.” One too far.

Jorge just sighed and nodded his head sullen. Yes. Yes they had entirely done that to him. Jorge was in his 40s when he first joined the X-Men, was a seasoned detective, had a firm hold of his abilities, and he was still slapped with the label of “Trainee”. It didn’t last too long, thankfully, as Jorge had gone on a number of missions with the team. But still it came up often enough as a joke among the group that even Jorge had become numb to it. Well, not entirely. But somewhat.

Ahem.

To Ashton he smirked. Jorge had a feeling he would make a good X. He may not be as young as most of the trainees, but he was far from the oldest now. The time would go by fast, especially if he were put onto a team with Sam. The more dangerous the mission the quicker you move up the ranks, in his experience.

When it came to the costume though, Jorge had to snort. ”Depends on what fits you and your abilities best. There is some uniform between them but they are always fit to what you need.” Jorge clicked his tongue. ”You’re coming at a good time, though. X’s got a special tailor that does the fittings now. I hear he’s the best. Wish I had that…” Jorge bemoaned. ”Tight leather and water abilities don’t exactly mix very well.”

Jorge was glad to see that costume burn.

But, shaking those thoughts off, he turned back to Ashton and nodded to the mansion. ”If you like we can head into the war room. See if there’s anything mission wise that could interest you. Sam is probably there already. He’s always looking for trouble.”

The disrespect. Making him a trainee, as a grown man. Jorge had sighed at the question, nodded. That was confirmation. Ashton just shook his head.

—

On the costume question, Jorge snorted.

>>> ”Depends on what fits you and your abilities best. There is some uniform between them but they are always fit to what you need.”

Ashton nodded. That made sense. If someone had a special need, like a fire mutant and fireproof clothes… whatever those were… or someone with explosive sweat, collecting the sweat in grenades, or—

>>> “You’re coming at a good time, though. X’s got a special tailor that does the fittings now. I hear he’s the best. Wish I had that…”

He said tight leather and water— Ashton did not devote much time to that mental image. He just agreed, outright.

”… yeah. That wouldn’t be the best fit. But it’s good to know they’ve got a costume person now.” Ashton said.

>>> ”If you like we can head into the war room. See if there’s anything mission wise that could interest you. Sam is probably there already. He’s always looking for trouble.” Jorge said.

Huh. Mission, and now? Interesting.

Ashton nodded and said ”Sure, why not? Thanks.”

Jorge cringed as he was reminded about his first costume with the X-Men. The very first one was supposed to be leather all around. He remembered trying it on in the depths of the mansion, in the cold halls of the X-Men locker rooms. While it was admittedly flattering upon him (in more ways than one) his water abilities honestly made him squeak more than a new dog toy in a bin full of puppies. It was not a pleasant feeling or sound. And certainly not something he wanted to remember. Thankfully he had managed to cobble together something that was a combination of tactical gear and wetsuit. It honestly worked out far better and was only improved upon when Javier decided to help the X-Men out.

At least Ashton, the newest recruit, won’t have to contend with rash-causing leather. Ugh.

Ashton seemed to agree with Jorge that the combination of powers and certain fabrics was important and he could see the pain in the detective’s eyes. Jorge was grateful for that bit of comradery but the less said about it the better. Leave the past buried. It is for the best.

”Yeah. Lucky.” Jorge grinned.

Now standing next to Ashton, dressed in his shorts and open hawaiian shirt, Jorge glanced back to the pool of water that was finally beginning to settle after all of his manipulations. It was good practice for the day, helped to keep his skill sharp. But now that it was done, he needed to focus on finding the best way to help Ashton. So, slapping the younger man on the shoulder, Jorge grinned from behind his dark sunglasses and gestured toward the house.

”Come on! Let’s go check out the war room. Maybe there is something available we could use your help on to test you out!” He says. ”I think for one of my first missions I either helped stopped a volcano from erupting or had to fight off an office building that had come to life.” He muses and taps his chin. ”Gotta be something like that on the docket for you…”

With a shrug the detective moves towards the mansion, leading Ashton on the way there. They’ll find something good for him. Jorge just knew it.