Mutants and Molotovs: Aftermath

[x-cyclops.livejournal.com]

Back at the hotel, Forge, Marius and Jennie discuss the situation, get into the minibar - and then hear about the monorail.


Jennie looked out the window for the hundreth time and sighed. She hated this. Hated feeling helpless, hating feeling trapped and stuck. She could see smoke from several fires rising from the city, and the streets looked like something out of an apocalyptic movie. She looked back over her shoulder, where Marius and Forge were sprawled on Wanda's bed still watching the news coverage from the riots.

"Check CNN, see if they're showing anything different." She said.

Forge frowned, flipping through channels on the TV and cursing the hotel's wireless network while poking at his laptop. "Riot, riot, Jessica Simpson, riot..." He slapped the side of his laptop, trying to tilt it to get better connection. "Web traffic must be insane. This is all insane. Hey, is that Mr. Marko on the TV?"

"Unless someone else down there's a head taller than the rest of the crowd? Looks like." Marius sighed and slid off the bed, going to join Jennie by the window. He glanced down and shook his head. "Unreal. This is worse'n World Cup."

"Well yeah," Jennie said, rolling her eyes at Marius. "I'd said the city of Seattle exploding is a smidge bit worse than a bunch of drunk soccer fans flipping a car." She looked back outside. A light burst came from somewhere in the east, and the windows rattled with a sonic boom a few seconds later. Jennie backed away from the window, and went over to her bed.

"This sucks." She said in the understatement of the year.

"Agreed." Marius leaned an arm against the window, studying the streets. "Funny, after all dad's railing against cultural stereotypes, it's a bit jarrin' to find America is everything cinema has lead me to expect."

"Aha!" Forge exclaimed, sitting up on the edge of the bed. "Managed to boost connectivity by getting admin access to the hotel's hotspot server. All to myself now. Let's see..." He tapped out commands, opening multiple news windows, trying to compress all the information he could find. "CNN says that they're not sure what started it, MSN states that unidentified mutants are aiding the local police - hey, I think that's Miss Maximoff in the photo, but it's really blurry."

Pausing to set the computer down, he walked over to join Marius by the window. "It feels like the city's about to explode. You wonder why they're scared of us?"

Marius thought back to the sonic boom seconds earlier. "After hearin' what half the staff is capable of? Not so much as you'd think."

"It was supposed to be rhetorical," Forge said in a whisper, looking out onto the city. "You know, I'd like to go through a week of this school year without being drummed into rebuilding one of my teachers, kidnapped by a supervillain, or twenty stories above the biggest mutant riot in US history."

"Oh god, do I want a drink. Or a cigarette. Or both." Jennie stuck her head over Forge's shoulder. "The anxiety's making me nuts. What if somebody figures out there's "muties" in this hotel and they storm it?"

"Take solace in the fact that you can pass for totally normal?" Forge said, turning to notice that Jennie was practically perched on him. "I mean, Marius can at least put his gloves on. I can wear a parka. It'd be worse for someone like Miles or Clarice, I think."

Looking out at the smoke rising over the city, he could see flashes of crimson light from between the buildings and smiled. "Hey, that's Mister Summers, I'll bet. Kick ass."

Marius nodded, not looking away from the window. "Also, there's that Secret Service bodyguard outside. Or truancy officers. Whichever." His brow creased in concentration, eyes tracking the figures on the street. "Never would've guessed how many there were," he muttered. "School's one thing, but . . . riot brought 'em out, you think?"

Forge nodded. "Mob mentality. Doesn't really discriminate. For as much as they're down there fighting for 'us versus them', the fact that they're resorting to violence just proves that everyone's equally stupid." Slowly, Marius's words percolated into his brain. "Wait, you can actually pick out mutants from up here?"

Marius nodded again. "Seen over a half dozen at least, and that's on either side." He glanced at Forge just long enough to flash a wry smile. "Guess I should be more bothered by the whole 'front row seats to a world that hates and fears us' bit, but this is the first time I've been properly in public since gettin' these powers. I expect it at the school, but it's a bit weird to see mutants out on the street -- even if it is a royal mess out there. Makes you think."

Nodding, Forge looked down at the police cars blocking off streets, setting up barricades to keep traffic well away from the worst of the riot. "When I was home in Dallas the other weekend," he said, "It was weird. I saw people I knew in high school, just two years ago, but none of them recognized me. And I started wondering, how many of them might have that little quirk of genetics, just waiting to emerge? And how would their families treat them, their friends?" He shrugged, turning his back on the window and falling face-first onto the bed. "So many people resort to doing stupid things just because they don't know what else to do. Remind me why I have hope for humanity?"

Jennie rubbed her arms and said nothing. She didn't like how with one offhand comment Forge could make her feel ashamed of being able to pass for completely human. It's not like she could help the way she looked. If he hadn't blown himself up, she thought to herself wryly, he'd be completely 'normal' too. She shoved those thoughts away. Anxiety was making her snarky. Instead she put on hand on the glass and quipped, "Ah just love the smell of napalm in the moring."

"Mate, faith comes and goes, but human stupidity springs eternal. But no worries. In my experience, things usually work out." Marius pushed himself away from the window, rolling his shoulders. He caught sight of Jennie and brightened. "Hey! Get into the minibar, then? About bleedin' time."

Forge raised his head. "Wait, this room has a minibar? Of course, it's in Miss Maximoff's name. Let me rephrase that - what are you doing getting into the minibar. HOW did you get into the minibar?"

Jennie started. "What?" Then she saw where Marius was looking. "Ah, no, Wanda got into it last night. But.... if she's not here now. And none of the adults are." She trailed off and traded a Look with Marius.

Forge dropped his head into his hands. "Marius, if we go back to the room and you're smelling like cheap vodka, you KNOW Mr. Marko's going to make sure we fly back to Westchester as cargo..."

Marius was already rummaging through the contents of the minibar. "So? I think after three months of wasting, growing teeth on my hands, two comas and now a riot I'm perfectly entitled to a good piss-up. Besides," he added haughtily, "I have no intention of drinking cheap vodka. This place isn't badly stocked. Fancy a rum and coke, Jennie?"

"Oh please god yes." She replied, and then went into the bathroom. She emerged with the plastic cups provided by the hotel. She ripped open the plastic packaging as Marius popped the top of the coke. Jennie put ice from the bucket into the cup and handed it to him. As long as it had been for Marius, it'd been longer for Jennie. The mansion wasn't the ideal place to sneak a drink, what with all the telepaths running around.

Forge sighed, shaking his head. "Teenagers," he muttered, disregarding the fact that he quite blatantly WAS one. He flipped his laptop around and checked the news again. "Hey, can we see the monorail from here?"

"Think so," said Marius, pouring himself a drink of his own. "Why?"

Forge looked up from the laptop, a mix of shock and horror on his face. "Because it just crashed."


~*~


The riot, at last, burns itself out. Shiro runs into the young woman he encountered almost twenty-four hours earlier. Wanda and Nathan collapse at the hangar, while Marie-Ange and Jubilee long for showers and an hungover Manuel arrives with the other students from the hotel.


It didn't end with a bang. The bang had come earlier. It didn't end with a whimper, either. When there had been so many people involved it was impossible for the riot to end in any neat fashion. But it was ending, clearly. The smarter looters had realized it and cut out before the riot police got around to them, and the dumber ones were being led off in handcuffs now that they cops had time to deal with the non-violent side of the riot.

The last of the fires had been put out, although the emergency medical crews were still going strong. They were tired, incredibly tired, but the mad rush of energy was no longer what was called for, and as fewer and fewer new patients came in they finally had time to take stock of the situation and catch their breath.

The riot didn't end with a bang, or a whimper, and it would be impossible to point at a moment and say that this, here, had been when it ended, but no one would argue that it was over now.

~*~

Shiro was so not looking forward to explaining the black splotches on his arms and neck to his classmates and teachers. He was looking forward even less to the excuses he'd have to offer his teachers about why he'd skipped two days of classes. Helping avert certain disaster wasn't an official school recognized excuse, as far as he knew.

As it was still dark out, Shiro flew slowly (slowly for him, at least) back to the hangar where everyone was waiting. All he wanted was cancer-inducing amounts of ultraviolet light and a box of Pocky to regain his energy. A big box of Pocky. Preferably one the size of the Blackbird.

Over to the west, high in the sky, there was a form hovering, wreathed in glittering blue light. Not moving, just lingering just below the low-lying clouds, as if surveying the damaged city.

"~Oh please, not something else~," Shiro muttered, veering westward to investigate the source of the light. The last thing he wanted to encounter was a pissed off mutant with a grudge against the city of Seattle. "It is not safe to be out here," he called, bracing himself for what this person might throw at him.

"You don't say." It was Maya, one of the mutants he and Sam had confronted shortly after the team had been deployed into the city. She could have been a different person, however, than the furious young mutant of last night. There was no anger on her face, just weariness and a certain unhappy disbelief as she studied the city.

Shiro's first instinct was to stay braced, but upon seeing her expression and watching how she just hung in midair, he relaxed. The light around his body dimmed, and he slowly approached her. "Your name is Maya, yes?" he asked softly, as if afraid that raising his voice too high would make her fall out of the sky. "I apologize for our confrontation earlier. But as I said, you ought to return home before some fool decides to take out his frustration on you."

She shrugged. "It's all over but the clean-up, I think," she said, her eyes on the city far below, not on him. "We pulled out some of the rest of our group and holed up in the hotel. Saw most of it on the news."

His eyes swept over the ruined parts of the city too. It saddened him that people were responsible for this. Stupid stupid people who couldn't keep their mouths shut and their fists at their sides. "All of your friends are safe and well, then?" he dared to ask.

Maya nodded. "Some bumps and bruises," she said, "but nothing serious. If we hadn't gotten out when we did I might not be able to say that, though." She eyed him for a moment, a faint smile tugging at her lips. "You're pretty young for a freelance... what, private security specialist?"

Shiro smirked. "Something like that," he replied, stifling a yawn. "It is a good thing that we were here, it seems. I am glad that you escaped the worst. I was afraid that you would get caught in the thick of it."

"I very nearly did." Maya shook her head a little as she looked back out at the city. "Hard to take a step back when all of the polite veneers are being stripped back and you see all the... raw and ugly things that people keep hidden most of the time."

"If I had been in your position, I would imagine that I would have reacted much the same as you did. Just with more fire," he added, grinning.

"Well, glad I didn't. That I ran into you and your friend, I mean. I don't do anyone any good sitting in jail, and thinking about for a moment, not crazy about the idea of being yet one more dangerous mutant, too."

"Yes, we certainly have enough of those as it is," Shiro agreed dryly. He examined the girl, seeing in her much of himself and some of the frustration he felt. He could have frightened off many of the rioters with a single display of power, either as a warning shot of sorts, or by hurting someone so much that everyone else would flee. And while a younger, less intelligent Shiro might have attempted such a feet, he was wise enough now to know the Bad in that. It was a shame, he realized, that it had taken life at Xavier's and training for the X-Men to learn that. It should be common sense.

"Power comes with temptation," he added. "One of the lessons I learned at my, er, job is the willpower to overcome that temptation and to instead direct power to constructive means. Like assisting the police control a riot."

"Well," Maya murmured a bit wryly, "I'll give that some thought. Right now I think I need some sleep. That's been in short supply these last couple of days." She eyed him. "You look like you could say the same."

"A dozen chocolate-covered biscuit sticks and I will be fine." Or a few hundred. "Give your friend my greeting. Hopefully I will not see you again. Well, not in these circumstances, ne?"

"Yeah... I think this should be one of those experiences not repeated." She nodded to him, giving him a faint smile, and then dove, blue light rippling around her like gauzy, starry fabric as she flew.

Shiro watched her fly away as his fiery aura roared back to life. He flew through the night sky like a comet, leaving a trail of solar flare in his wake as he reached the final stretch back to the rendezvous point with his teammates.

That Pocky was looking real good now.

~*~

The wall behind Wanda's back felt both cold and raw, probably not the best combination in the world, as she hunched down. Almost everyone was milling around the Blackbird, waiting for the rest to catch up to them, but she really hadn't been feeling very well. The stress of the events, plus the sheer need to take a vacation and the pressure everything had placed on her powers had her reeling once the adrenaline wore off.

Hands pressed to her mouth and nose, she scooted further away from the group. Only because the last thing she wanted them to deal with was her loosing her lunch as her stomach churned.

There was someone behind her suddenly, steadying arms holding her up as she retched and heaved, and a gloved hand offering her a bottle of water once she'd stopped. "If you're dizzy, you should sit down," came Nathan's exhausted-sounding voice.

Doing as she was told, if only because she tottered backwards and her legs wouldn't support her anymore, she laughed softly. "I wish I could have before," she responded, taking a sip of water to rinse out her mouth. "Well, that was embarrassing."

"Stress," Nathan said quietly, swaying a little on his feet as he looked down at her. He didn't know how he'd gotten back to his feet. He'd just seen Wanda in distress and had.

Reaching up, Wanda tugged on his arm. "Sit or you'll be falling over next," she advised, leaning her head back against the wall. "Stress. Lots and lots of stress. I need a vacation." Oh, and badly at this point. Too many missions back to back for her, on top of her work.

Nathan sagged down beside her. He'd left his psimitar... over there. He'd go back to it later. "You and me both," he murmured, his shoulders slumping. "I feel... I don't know how I feel. Too tired to come up with a description."

"Drained?" Wanda offered, drinking more water, knowing that if it tasted that good that she had not had enough of it lately. "With the rioting and the strain on the powers and...Scott."

Nathan swallowed. "Yeah," he muttered. "Damn it. Find the son of a bitch and shove another Molotov where the sun doesn't shine, I swear..."

There was a weak laugh at that. "It is such a mess right now. You're right, I cannot even think straight and every time I do, I either think of what I did or did not do in the riot...or my brain turns to what I need to do now. Oh, to shut it off for a while."

"It's going to be a very... quiet day around the mansion tomorrow," Nathan murmured, resting his face in his hands. "Classes cancelled on account of the staff all being unconscious."

Crossing her arms over her knees she pillowed her head and sighed. "I do not wish to take my vacation so soon because of Scott and the like but I am afraid if I keep pushing..." A flash of memory, of staring up into the reddened, stringed sky and she shuddered.

"We'll go home. You'll rest. We'll hear about Scott, I would imagine tomorrow at the latest. And then I will buy you a ticket to Tunis. Sound good?"

Wanda perked up slightly at that, a smile playing around her lips. "Sounds wonderful. I have heard--in great detail--how pretty Tunis is and exactly why I should visit."

"Theo will spoil you just shamelessly, you know. And I shudder at the thought of you and Dom and Ani and Mina and Lien and Isabel shopping in the bazaar. Vendors will be running for cover." Nathan closed his eyes, breathing deeply, hearing the slight wheeze in his chest. He had pushed a little hard.

"Shopping, oh, such a sweet, sweet idea. And Theo is an absolute dear." She looked at him and frowned. "Are you alright?"

"Chest hurts, a little. I'll take another dose of my meds when we get on the plane. I just pushed too hard, I think." He gave a weary, slightly unhappy-sounding laugh as he looked up at her with reddened gray eyes. "I nearly dropped the train, Wanda."

It was more that she fell over than anything else, but she bumped into his shoulder gently. "But you did not," Wanda pointed out, softly. "Nearly is not the same as 'did'. And you had help."

"Bobby did wonderfully. Angie did amazingly." Nathan made a mental note to talk to Angie about the rather sizeable leap she'd made with her powers. Later. After they slept.

"And so did you." She prodded him again before going still. "Before I came here, I used my powers--every once in a while. Now, I use them nearly every day. But I am learning that I don't have to rely on just them...I have all of you to fall back on as well. It does not dimish what I accomplished or help to do."

"I'm too used to sailing in and doing things myself still," Nathan confessed, smiling a little even though she couldn't see it. "I'm getting better, though."

"Hmm, you do have a point about getting better." Wanda closed her eyes for a second, exhaustion rolling over her in waves. "It is amazing what a little teamwork can do."

"Nngh," was Nathan's response. It felt nice to rest his head in his hands, really.

Very lightly, knowing he was probably as sore as she was, Wanda poked him in the side of the head. "Just making sure you're alive."

"Mmph. Don't poke me, woman."

"You take away all my fun," Wanda whined slightly, grinning just a little bit.

"How do you even have the energy to poke me?" he asked, peeking through his fingers at her.

She poked him again. "I have a brother," she said, simply, "I always have the energy to annoy."

~*~

Jubilee collapsed on the ground by the Blackbird, leaning her head back against the wheel. She was still damp from the rain of earlier in the day and she ached from the beating she'd taken when her group had been overwhelmed by rioters. The monorail incident hadn't helped much either. She knew she probably looked a bit of a fright, considering she hadn't yet had time to clean up at all, but maybe she could ask Madelyn for some aspirin for the headache though.

A noise close by made her look up and she smiled at Marie-Ange. "Please tell me you had a better day then I did."

"That would depend. On one hand, I think I helped save lives. On the other..." Marie-Ange plucked at her hair, which was tangled, sweaty and had something -foul- in it. Quite possibly blood, and quite probably someone else's, since she didn't recall bleeding. "I smell like a sewer, the inside of my skull hurts and I never want coffee again as long as I live."

"Pull up some pavement, feels much better from down here. Although, totally not sure if we'll get up again afterward." Jubilee replied, chuckling. "I say we demand ice-cream when we get home."

"If I sit down, I will never, ever get back up again, and I will end up being part of this sidewalk." Marie-Ange agreed. "And ice-cream? I am demanding the -shower-." Maybe she would move into the shower, like she'd threatened to once. "And then, I am going to put on clean clothes made of cotton and wool, and not leather, and I am going to borrow a car, and take Doug and have a meal out." With a good glass of wine, but she wasn't going to say that out -loud-.

"A shower would be so nice." Jubilee replied wistfully. "With that flowery smelling shampoo that I keep stealing from whoever leaves it there and ooo, food! Real food. Like steak. I could seriously murder a steak right now. I could see if David was doin' anything tonight even. How long do you think they'll keep us in debriefing for?"

Marie-Ange shook her head. "If we even -get- debriefed, it will be once we are showered and fed." With Cyclops injured, it would be Dazzler, or Storm who did any official debriefing. And she couldn't picture Alison not letting anyone have a shower -first-. "Or on the plane back, perhaps." Besides, anyone who prevented her from having her shower would pay dearly. "I think that Ms. Munroe and Alison would prefer reports from people who do not smell like..." She paused, sniffing. "Like we do. Ugh."

"I don't think anyone would want reports from people smelling like we do." Jubilee affirmed before giving Marie-Ange a speculative look.

Putting on her best 'I'm helpless and cute, you therefore must help me or you're cruel and heartless' look, she wiggled her fingers in Marie-Ange's direction. "Help a poor tired team-mate up?"

"That look does not work when Doug does it, you know. It should not work when you do either." It only worked for Megghan, and Miles, and sometimes Artie. And Artie was getting too big for it. Still, she was up, and Jubilee was not, and the faster they were both standing, the faster they could be on the plane and -not- standing. So she extended a hand, and tugged gently, thanking God that Jubilee weighed exactly next to nothing.

Jubilee let Marie-Ange haul her up, wobbling slightly when she was on her feet but remaining upright. "You know, this all seemed so much more glamorous when I wasn't being rained on. Someone definitely needs to talk to the weatherman."

"You could get -on- the plane..." Marie-Ange suggested. She was still enjoying the rain. It made her feel cleaner, and got some of the grime off her face. "There is no rain on the plane.." She paused, gave Jubilee a very serious Not-Serious look, and added "And if you start singing that song from My Fair Lady, I shall kick you in the shin."

Jubilee's mouth twitched with the effort of keeping silent before she finally gave up and broke into song, skipping out of the way of Marie-Ange's kick before darting onto the plane.

~*~

Ah, good. The plane. thought Manuel as he staggered out of the extremely-uncomfortable police-provided bus. He felt like hammered shit -dry mouth, queasy stomach, and a dull ache behind the eyes with a screeching voice and flaming-red hair. Plus his ever-present hole inside of him where his psi-bond used to live. It was just about all he could do to put one foot in front of the other to head to the plane. Once on-board, he could probably just strap himself in and pass out properly. And maybe get a little bit of the hair of the dog that bit him.

Nathan was sitting down again. Sitting down was good, he had decided after his talk with Wanda. Someone had laid his psimitar down beside him, and someone else had walked by a little later and tried to push coffee at him, but he was too tired to drink. Or eat. Or much of anything, quite frankly, and the headache was... best not discussed. It was getting worse with the passing minutes, which he should have expected. He felt like his skull was several sizes too small. The thing to do would be to get aboard the Blackbird and take some painkillers, but he couldn't move.

Manuel saw Nathan, and some shred of decency that still lived inside him took the moment to grab control and change his course to walk over to the obviously exhausted big man. "Nobody left the hotel." he said, hoping that he wasn't lying. But as far as he knew, nobody had. Not that he cared either way, but Nathan would, and if anyone did go out it would be his ass that would be grass, and Nathan had a very sharp nasty psionic lawnmower.

"Mmph." It wasn't much of an answer. Nathan managed to raise his head, though, reddened gray eyes struggling to focus on Manuel. "What about lawnmowers?"

Manuel pushed his shields a little higher, even if it made his headache a thousand times worse and the redhead with the screech turned up the volume a few dozen decibels. "Nothing." he mumbled, and then changed direction to walk onboard. He was going to kill the first person who suggested that he eat something. He was going to turn into a ninja, flip out, and kill people. There was simply no way around it.

Nathan let his head sag back down to rest on his knees. Kids... there had been kids at the hotel, yes. He was almost certain there would be much more of a fuss if any of them were missing. Which meant he could just sit here, and maybe someone would tell him to get on the plane when it was ready to go. That would be nice.

Manuel scaled the steps to the plane like it was Mount Everest, and had to suppress a wild desire to let out a Rebel Yell (he still wasn't sure what a Rebel Yell was, but Marie used to think they were vitally important) and maybe find some firearms to discharge. Lacking the firearms and the voice for a good proper scream, instead he trudged his way into the plane and collapsed into the first available seat - next to some skinny dark-haired kid he didn't know. If the kid knew what was good for him, he would bugger off and leave him alone for the flight back.

~*~


At the hospital, Alex arrives via teleportation and finds Jean in the waiting room. Shared worry and apologies are on the menu for the evening.


"Where is he? What's going on?" Alex burst into the waiting room, having barely just arrived on the West Coast. He figured someone would be around to answer his question though he was a bit startled to see the only one in the room was Jean. Taking a deep breath to compose himself, he walked over to where she sat. "Any news?"

"They're in surgery still," Jean said, turning to look up at Alex. The desire to ride the doctors' minds and find out what was happening was overshadowed by the terror of all the things which could go wrong and she had locked herself into her own mind. Where she was going over what had happened again and again, thinking of how she could have been faster, caught the bomb, kept Scott safe... Alex was a welcome distraction.

He sat down beside her, practically falling back into the chair. "What happened? Can you tell me anything?" All he'd heard was that Scott was injured and he had to get to Seattle right away. The rest was a blur. Thank goodness for teleporters.

"Did you see the footage of the riot?" Jean asked, forcing her hands to unclench, not noticing the marks her nails had dug into her palms. "The monorail track was destroyed, and some of us were trying to keep the train from falling. Some of the rioters took exception, and one of them..." Oh God, saying this hurt. She took a deep breath, closing her eyes. "One of them threw a Molotov cocktail at Scott."

Alex's eyes went wide with sudden horror at the scene Jean discribed, especially the last. He had to clench his fists in his lap to stop from blasting the chair, as a small red glow had appeared around his hands. Taking a deep breath, he forced the glow to disappear though his horror slowly turned to anger. "What the fuck?! Why would someone do that?" He shook his head and his voice got smaller. "How bad was it...?"

"He was... We were stopping the rioters from getting to Nate and the others. Made us into targets." She swallowed convulsively, remembering the blood and how Scott had looked when she'd gotten to him, and had to breathe deeply a few times before she could go on. "He knocked it away from himself, but... It blew up too close. Shattered his visor."

He had to stand up now, all his emotion not allowing him to sit still and listen to this. He paced back and forth in front of her for a few moments, his arms now folded across as his chest to hide the red glow he couldn't stop. "The visor shattered..." Alex repeated dully, not looking at her. "His eyes then...oh god..."

Jean couldn't answer, burying her face in her hands and trying not to start crying again. They didn't know yet, she kept telling herself. The ER doctors hadn't been able to say anything for certain.

Hearing her trying to choke back tears, Alex took a few calming breaths to dismiss the red glow of power from his hands and moved to return to the seat beside her. Teantively, he wrapped his arms around her and hugged her close, feeling a connection that could only come with shared pain.

It had been too long of a night and into the day. She'd slept, a little, but it could hardly have been called restful, and Jean knew if she let herself start crying she might never stop. Leaning into Alex's embrace she shook slightly with the effort to calm her breathing. "He'll be okay," she whispered faintly. "He has to be."

"He will be..." Alex added firmly, strengthening his old on her a bit more as if to confirm. He did not just get Lorna back just to lose his brother...he would *not* lose Scott again! "Some idiot will not take my brother away from me again...nor your fiance from you."

Jean couldn't quite help the humorless half laugh that escaped, almost closer to a sob than a laugh. And now would not be a good time to start getting hysterical. But, really, of all the things to finally bring down the walls between them.

Alex heard the half laugh and couldn't help a small smirk of his own. "I've been meaning to apologize to you, but I had to take care of Lorna first...If I can't stay mad at her for disappearing on me, I would be a downright ass to be angry with you." He shook his head with a small sarcastic bark of laughter. "Of all the times... huh?"

Sitting up again and scrubbing at her eyes, Jean took a shuddery breath. "The people we love have to go through hell before we..." She sighed, and offered him a little smile. "How is she doing? Did she stay in New York?" It was something else to think about, something to concentrate on besides the fear.

"She's better. Though I doubt she will leave the suite much while I'm here. I had to come but she wasn't up for it yet." He sat back a bit, giving her room, but kept one arm around her shoulders."Still thinks the whole thing is her fault...but we're working on it."

Jean nodded, remembering the look in Lorna's eyes when she left the isolation room. It was the last time she'd seen her. "It takes time," she said, her voice soft. "Maybe someday she'll forgive me for not letting Malice win..."

Alex swallowed. "Don't. Please. Not more guilt. That's all that's come out of this. You saved her...and me as well. I could never thank you enough." It was true. If Malice had won...Alex wasn't going to think about that. Not now. Not with Scott..."She will. Right now she's just working on forgiving herself."

Jean sighed. "I'm sorry. That is... That is what I meant, that someday she will come to think she doesn't deserve... all of it." Escaping the guilt right now wasn't going to happen, though. Not when she simply hadn't been fast enough to protect Scott. But Alex didn't have to deal with that.

He sighed and leaned back in the chair, the hand not around her shoulders going up to message his temple. A headache was forming from the constant panic and was now catching up with him. "She will." Alex repeated softly. "But right now...that's not what's important...Scott is."

"And right now all we can do is wait. I hate waiting." She didn't even have the energy to pace.

"You're telling me." Alex leaned his back against the wall and closed his eyes. Then an idea came to him. "If you tell me how you first met Scott, I'll tell you about how I got him in trouble while potty training when we were little. Deal?" If this woman was going to be his sister-in-law, Alex needed to get to know her, not to mention it would keep both their minds off waiting.

Jean looked over at Alex and honestly smiled for the first time in what seemed like ages. "Deal," she said. "He fell down the stairs the first time he ever saw me, actually."

Alex couldn't help but laugh. "Oh god, he didn't...I always knew my brother was a dork but that is just..." He snickered softly.

"I was home from college for break, you see, and he'd apparently been hearing stories about me from Hank. So he was spying on me from the landing half way up the front stairs. You know the one..." It was good to have something else to think about. Or, not something else, exactly, because it was still Scott. It was always Scott. But it was a break from the worrying.

~*~


On the flight back, Cain plays pillow.


Cain's bulk loomed beside her in the plane, he seemed distracted by something else at the moment. Maybe he wouldn't mind if she used him as a headrest. It wasn't like he was using that arm anyhow, and she was sooo tired.

Having justified this appropriately to herself with TiredJubilee logic, she closed her eyes and rested her head against him.

A soft snore started a few moments later.

Raising an eyebrow, Cain glanced down at the tired trainee sleeping against his chest. Pausing from reading the sports page of the paper, he folded the newspaper carefully, slipping it into a pocket and perusing Jubilee with some interest. His first instinct was to shrug her off, wake her up and push her the other direction.

His second thought was to remember that this was an eighteen year old kid, who'd just helped face down a riot of forty thousand people, and not only did her job - but did it admirably and without complaint.

Reaching behind him, Cain pulled out the police windbreaker, balling it up and placing it under Jubilee's head as a pillow.

"Sleep well, kiddo," he whispered, looking forward with a smile. "You earned it."

~*~


After arriving back at the mansion, Nathan finds Moira waiting up for him. They agree that there will be no more field trips for him, and he shares the news about Scott.


He'd slept on the flight back, and as usual, it had been sufficient to revive him at least partially. His head was still pounding from too much telekinesis and telepathy used for too long, and Nathan knew he'd feel worse the next day, but for now he was more or less functional.

The benefit of having been called in by the government was that they'd gotten all their bumps and bruises treated on-site. Hence, no one had to be waiting in the medlab for them when they got back, and Nathan, after the debriefing, gratefully went straight upstairs to his and Moira's suite.

Unsurprisingly, Moira was still awake, sitting on the couch in the living room and reading one of her trademarked Very Large Scientific Tomes. CNN was on the TV, the volume turned down low.

"Hey," Nathan said with a tired smile. "It's two in the morning, you know."

"As if I could sleep," Moira replied, tossing the book onto the couch. Standing up, she barely waited for him to shrug off whatever jacket he was wearing before she had her arms wrapped around her neck and was holding on tightly.

"Was so bloody worried." Sighing, she glanced at CNN. It had been on since the start of the riots, leaving her feeling either informed or completely helpless.

Or both.

Nathan held her for a long moment, closing his eyes. "I am never," he said, very calmly, "leading a field trip again. I've decided this. I assume you will be fully in support of this decision?"

"Aye, I could second tha' well enough," Moira agreed, laughing softly as she buried her head in his shoulders. "How is everyone?"

Nathan took a deep, unsteady breath, and then led her towards the couch. "Only one serious injury," he said quietly as they sat down. "We were cornered, towards the end of the worst of it, trying to evacuate a train. Scott was trying to coordinate holding off the rioters while those of us with powers suited to the task got the people off the train." Nathan bit his lip, remembering what he'd seen through Jean's eyes as he'd reached out, shocked, immediately after the train had fallen. "He took a Molotov cocktail to the head, Moira," he said very softly. "It shattered his visor. I've seen injuries like that before often enough to guess that they're not going to be able to save his eye."

She jerked back from him in pure shock before taking a deep breath. "Oh my God. I'm assumin' since there was nay emergancy call 'ere they 'ad ta treat 'im there?" she asked, shifting into doctor mentality easily enough. "Was th' damage ta bot' eyes or jus' one?"

"Just the one." Nathan shook his head a little. "He got right back up," he said heavily. "Linked with Jean, used her eyes, kept giving orders. I don't think he knew he was hurt, at first." He took another deep breath, then let it out. "Jean and Maddie stayed with him at the hospital. I'm guessing they'll be getting in touch with you as soon as they can. I mean, it's Scott, and an eye injury..."

Moira shuddered, wondering if she'd be able to get up after possibly having her eye destroyed for good. "Well, if he still 'as one good eye I've got somethin' ta work wit'," she said, firmly. "It'll take some work but I doubt his mutation is completely 'ampered."

Nathan smiled at her for a moment and then leaned forward, his lips brushing her temple just briefly. "Love you for the 'can-do' attitude," he murmured. "Have I mentioned that lately, or have I been terribly remiss again?"

"Does it matter?" she asked, laughing a little. "Flattery will get ye everywhere. Or at least ye wit' me, tha' is. How's Jean 'oldin' up?"

Nathan sighed. "Didn't see her again, after she went with Scott to the triage center. We did some mop-up work and by then the rioting was under control enough that they told us we could fly out while it was still dark. They were at the hospital, last I heard."

She rubbed her eyes before she continued. "How lon' do they think they'll keep him there?"

"No idea yet. We'll have to wait and hear, I guess." He slid his arm around her, relaxing back against the couch. "Twenty-four hours of riot work with nothing worse than bruises to any of us, and this happens in the homestretch."

"Isnae tha' always our luck?" Moira asked, curling her legs under her as she snuggled up closer. "Missed ye somethin' fierce. So did th' wee terror."

"Missed you too." Nathan smiled a little. "You'll never believe who I wound up working with for a while. In the middle of the riot, I mean."

"Oh? Do tell."

"Sean and I got directed to the same incident." He grinned wearily at the sudden narrow-eyed look he got. "No worries. We were both the picture of professionalism. I promise."

She still gave him a look. "Color me shocked...I'll 'ave ye two skippin' through flowers an' drinkin' high tea wit' each other soon enough."

"Oh, I bet we could fake the skipping if need be," he said, his tired eyes lighting up with mischief just briefly. "We do have some things in common. Including the well-informed opinion that it is a bad thing to piss you off."

"Who, me?" Innocently, she pressed her head to her chest and batted her eyes for a second. Moira smirked. "Ach, well, ye bot' learned tha' lesson verra fast. Though it seemed tha' ye took a perverse pleasure in provokin' me."

"Well, you are rather frighteningly beautiful when you're infuriated," Nathan pointed out, but the bantering tone fell a little short, and he gave Moira another, fainter smile. "I am going to be lucky if I can lift my head off the pillow in the morning, I think."

"Sleep in, doctor's orders. Wife's orders while I'm at it." As soon as he mentioned pillow, Moira felt the tiredness seep back into her limbs. "Come on, ye, let's go sneak a peak at Ray--she's sleepin' for once. And then 'tis jus' ye, me an' tha' bed o' ours until mornin'."