Disclaimer: All things X-Men belong to Marvel Comics. The movie was made by 20th Century Fox, so they deserve some credit to. Basically, I don't own 'em, never claimed to either.

***

"Remy, ya better grow up!" the Southern belle known as Rogue squealed.

"We're in a house of God, Moron," added Bobby Drake, "Show some respect."

I watch these children quietly from the back of the gym. A whole youth group is in, but there are six children that particularly interest me.

These six do not show up for Mass every Sunday. Some of them come in on Saturday night, to fulfill their obligation to the Lord. Others are not even Catholic. I welcome them all despite their religion. These days, not many will accept them.

Looking at the half dozen kids, I know could never think of them monsters. But that is what many people would have you believe. They are mutants, born with an X-Gene. They have powers beyond the comprehension of normal men.

A month ago, a man came to my church. He called himself Graydon Creed. He had a polished smile and the eyes of a sinner. Immediately I was wary. He said he was from the Friends of Humanity. I had never heard of this organization, but I did not like the sound of it.

Mr. Creed told me of the ones called mutants. How they were abominations of God. It was my duty to inform him of any mutants who came to my church.

I bid Mr. Creed good day. A business card was held out to me. Accepting it, I then tore it to bits. My church was a safe haven for all. If Jesus could council lepers and prostitutes, mutants were welcome at St. Mary Immaculate.

The truth was, I was no stranger to the beings called mutants.

I first dealt with mutant ten years ago. I was fresh out of seminary school, full of hope of optimism. My first assignment was at Our Lady of Mercy, in my hometown Brooklyn. The church was not my only duty. I also cared for my elderly mother and nine year old niece, who had been abandoned by my sister.

I remember the night clearly. It was a Saturday. I was preparing my sermon for Mass the next morning.

I heard the large wooden door open, a panicked person run in. Turning, I gaped at the new arrival.

My breath was caught in my throat, my heart stilled. I felt like I would die of shock.

He was less a man than he was a bat. His skin was leathery. He had no hair, and a layer of skin extending from each arm: wings. His eyes were sunken in, glowing red.

"Father...." the creature rasped. "You must help me!"

My momentary lapse was forgotten. Aiding people, even this creature, was my duty.

The creature was bleeding profusely from head and chest. I rushed for my medical supplies, bandaging him as best I could. "I am Father Riley. What is your name?"

Coughing up phelgm, it became difficult for him to speak. "No name. Just Morlock."

I looked over Morlock, trying to discover any wounds I had missed. "What happened, Morlock?"

"I came up for food. A gang...."

"Where did you come up from?"

"The sewer."

I could not let Morlock return to the sewer. His injuries were too great. I had a room set up for those in need. Morlock was definately in need.

For several days Morlock stayed with me. I nursed his wounds, making sure he was fed. He was incredibly weak. He only emerge at night, hiding in the basement during the daylight hours. Was it the sun, or the people in the church who scared him? To this day, I still do not know.

Morlock told me of his people. All were creatures too hideous to walk the streets. Once, Morlock had a real name. He did not, or refused, to remember it. His people were Morlocks, so that is what he would be known.

The time Morlock spent at Our Lady of Mercy must have affected him greatly. Night after night, I had another subversive creature come for my aid. I gladly gave it. Some had names, others were just "Morlock". Most were in poor physical condition, others just wanted my counsel. I gladly gave it. Sleep was becoming a luxury for me. My days were spent with humans, and my nights with the Morlocks.

Three years into my service at Our Lady of Mercy I was transferred. My new assignment was in Westchester, New York. I was to take over St. Mary Immaculate, a 150 year old church in Salem Center. I was hesitant to leave my work at Our Lady. My work with the Morlocks was my top priority. My family was also in Brooklyn. Mother was quite ill, and my niece Shauna was becoming a highly-emotional teenager. What was I supposed to do?

I was pondering this question, waiting for my nightly visit from one of the Morlocks.

"Go, Father," a raspy voice said. I knew it immediately. It was the one who in my mind was 'Morlock'.

"My son, what has brought you here tonight?"

Morlock sat in the pew with me. "Morlocks have tunnels up to Westchester. Morlocks have tunnels all over. We come to the new church."

A week later, I was packed up and on my way to St Mary Immaculate. I knew here, I could do just as much as I had in Brooklyn. What I didn't realize, is that I would do more.

A man arrived at the church one day. He was a refined gentleman, in a polished wheelchair.

His name was Charles Xavier. He had a school about a mile away. He had heard of my work in Brooklyn and was impressed. I was flattered by his compliments. Not many people noticed my work.

Xavier then spoke of my unbound compassion. How I never turned anyone away. That my treatment of the creatures called Morlocks. I was shocked he knew of them. He then explained.

He was a mutant, a man born with extraordinary powers. If these powers were revealed, mankind would fear him. He was a telepath, capable of reading and manipulating my thoughts. There were others like him. The Morlocks were mutants, ones who physical appearances were shunned.

Xavier had used his powers to arrange my transfer. His school was filled with young mutants struggling with their powers. He wanted me to serve as a bridge between humanity and mutants. While I was a bit upset by Xavier's manipulation, I agreed. I could still work with the Morlocks in addition to Xavier's students.

My life was a complete whirlwind. Again, my days were for the "normal" people, and my nights the Morlocks. Xavier's students usually came in during the evenings, after their classes were over.

I arranged a youth group. Teenagers from my parish would come in and socialize. Students from Xavier's, regardless of faith, joined the group. In the group, the mutants were able to socialize with those who had no idea of their condition. I was happy serving as this bridge.

In my fifth year of priesthood, there was tragedy in my family. My mother finally succumbed to illness. Shauna was devastated. She was supposed to come stay with me. However, she ran off. She started to repeat her mother's pattern; a world of drugs and parties. She was only fourteen years old.

I found a friend during my time of trouble. Charles Xavier became my council, my friend. While he speaks of compassion, he should speak of his own. Xavier is truly the best man I have ever met.

It took me nearly two years to find Shauna. The police were no help. However, Xavier had better luck with his telepathic skills. She was in Manhattan. Together, Xavier and I headed to find her.

The little girl I had known was no more. She was a wild punk. I found out she had been arrested several times, for stealing and possession of drugs. I recognized too much of this. My sister had been this same way, only sixteen years earlier. I begged Shauna to come home with me. She would not listen.

Xavier started to speak to Shauna. I do no remember a word that was said. I'm sure Xavier arranged it that way. By the end of their conversation, Shauna had tears in her eyes, marring her black eye makeup.

Shauna did not come back with us. She would not listen. However, my spirits had been raised. I knew Xavier would not abandon me. He was a true friend.

Xavier's talk had more of an affect than I thought. A year after our trip, Shauna was at my doorstep. She cried about how Xavier had been right. He had told her the life she had would be her end. She had overdosed at a party, and nearly died.

Shauna went into councilling. She became very well adjusted, even beginning correspondance courses to get her high school diploma. She found a special skill for languages. She aided me at the church. It was her self-imposed penance for her sins. She worked closely with Xavier's mutants.... Even if she didn't know it.

My Morlock friends did not come as much as they used to. I missed them terribly. While Xavier's students did fulfill my love of helping mutants. I hoped all was well with the underground mutants. My hopes could not save the Morlocks from their terrible fate.

It was eight years after my first encounter with mutantkind. I was waiting to see if anyone would come by. The door to the church opened, and Morlock came in.

The first mutant I had ever met. However, the mutant I knew was horribly mutilated.

His chest was lacerated. His wings were nearly ripped off.

"Father Riley...." Morlock rasped, falling to the floor. I gathered him in my arms, trying to stop the bleeding.

"A massacre...." He was too far gone. His eyes were shut, the red glow peaking through his eyelids. He was dying. "I just... Saying... Thank you.... Friend...."

With a groan, Morlock died in my arms. I never discovered who or what had killed him.

He was my friend. He had opened my eyes to a world which needed my help. I was his friend in kind, letting him know not all humans feared him.

No more Morlocks came to the church. Had they all been killed? I prayed every day some of them escaped the massacre Morlock spoke of.

Mutants became public knowledge. A Senator named Robert Kelly started screaming about human rights. That mutants were an affront to our society. I counseled more mutants, sending them to Xavier's. An evil mutant called Magneto came up, marring the already horrible image of mutants.

After the uprising, Kelly was dead and Magento was in prison. However, Graydon Creed came up, with his 'Friends of Humanity'. There is always another filled with hate, ready to take the reins. Creed filled the void well.

The heat is on, but I will not turn my back on these people. I believe I need them as much as they need me. Xavier's mutants give me hope.

"REMY! You can't smoke in a church!" Rogue cried.

With a chuckle, I go to intervene. No, these are not children of the atom. They are children of God.