I haven't always been cold. Nobody has ever really bothered to dig deep into what made me the way I am – an Ice Queen. More preferably, a White Queen.

But if I felt any different, I guess I wouldn't be an X-Man.

It was all her fault, really, and I knew what was happening here, with all the heroes and possibly villains: Astrid had woken up from her telepathically-induced coma.

I didn't explain this on the way back to the mansion. I didn't need to – not now. Jean read my mind, and she could explain it.

I got in the limo I had called. "Crystal Ball Salon on twelfth, driver."

I shoved the door open to the salon, slapping my credit card on the desk. "I don't have an appointment, but put the extra thousand on my card."

"Yes, ma'am!"

"And get a manicurist – and I'd like cucumber water."

"What do you want done today, Ms . . .?" The stylist started.

"Stark, I guess."

"Ms. Stark? What can I do?"

"I want it dyed blond – don't make me look like an idiot. While you're at it, only trim it a bit – straightened, as well. I'd also like my eyebrows done. And where the hell is my manicurist?"

After I had myself valued, I ordered my clothing. I headed back to the mansion, and changed into the most revealing outfit I had – thankfully my plastic surgery was still intact, other than my poor, poor nose, but I could fix that tomorrow.

I went downstairs, Jean looked at me and rolled her eyes, while Logan joined me. "How's it going?" he asked.

"It's going," I replied. "Whose home?"

"Scotty, Jean, Kitty, Remy, Rouge, me, and you. Peter, MJ, Matt, Wanda, and Pietro are working on the Avengers."

"And my husband?"

Logan grinned. "No word on that."

I sighed. "Well, I guess I'll have to take care of it."

I found the address, and pulled up. Fishing in my purse, I found a key to the apartment, and shoved it open.

"Grace!" Came his voice from a room. "I've done it! I've finally found a way too –" He stopped in the doorway, squinting at me. "Gracie?"

"Sort of," I replied.

"What happened to your voice?"

"I remembered I was from Boston."

"Don't you think that outfit is sort of . . . I dunno, revealing?"

"Oh, Tony Stark," I said, touching the side of his face. I slapped it slightly. "You are not the Iron Man I know."

I burst into his mind, shoving his current memories into his old ones.

"Uhnn!" He fell over, clutching the door. "I – Emma Frost. I married Emma Frost."

"Don't sound so disgusted."

"I'm not. I just . . ." He shook his head. "This can't be happening. Cap?"

"I haven't any idea, darling."

"We'll have to find him. Where the hell is my suit?"

In the storage cell that said "Failed Projects," we found scraps of his suit.

"This blows," he muttered.

"Dear oh dear, this is bad," I agreed.

"I'll have to find a way to reprogram it." He looked down at his chest. "Guess this alternate reality couldn't fix me, huh?"

"Don't worry about it," I said, placing my hand on his shoulder. "I'll get you some wine."

"Thanks," he said, as I went upstairs. I found some cheap wine, poured us each a glass, and went back downstairs. "You know," I said, handing him a glass as he inspected his work. "It's not that bad."

"Well, it wouldn't be, but I'm missing a lot of parts."

"You'll get it finished."

"Eventually."