Ororo felt the thick parchment envelope under her fingers, studying the cursive writing on it addressed to her at the Xavier School for Gifted Youngsters. Things had been a little rough around the mansion in the months that followed the deaths of Scott, Jean and Professor Xavier. Storm had after careful consideration decided with the help of Logan and Dr Hank McCoy to continue the excellent work that Professor Charles Xavier had started. It had been difficult at first, many of the students felt unsure of the new situation. Without the professor many of those at the School felt lost, their father figure was gone and they had to find strength, comfort and support from new people. Ororo and the other adults had really had to step up which was challenging for some more than others, Logan's patience had certainly improved over time, but he still wasn't suited to a mothering role as it were.

She turned the envelope over and opened it, taking out the letter and beginning to read:

Dear Ororo Munroe,

I was greatly saddened to learn of the death of one of my oldest and dearest friends, Charles Xavier. Although we had been out of touch for the past decade I still consider him to be one of the closest friends I have ever made in my lifetime. I understand that this must be a troubling time for you and your students and I hope that as you continue to run the School set up by Charles you can find comfort in knowing that he absolutely would approve of your decision to carry on his life's work and ambition.

Shortly after I lost contact with Charles I too set up an institution for the gifted, with the hope that I might be able to help others in the same way that Charles was helping them. My decision was made after raids on a mutant experimentation laboratory left many disillusioned and troubled young mutants, some of whom had no memories of the outside world, abandoned and in need of rehabilitation in order to be able to function outside of a laboratory. I bought an old mansion in the heart of England surrounded only by countryside and began providing education, both social and intellectual to those mutants who were left in my care following the closure of the laboratory. It wasn't long before mutants outside of the laboratory requested to join my institution and today I have roughly two hundred students and fifteen staff.

My purpose in writing to you is to request first that I may be allowed to visit your institution in order to pay respects to Charles and the others lost in the recent and devastating war and second I hope to be able to set up an exchange program with your institute in order to broaden the horizons of my students and hopefully they will be able to make many life long friendships across the ocean. This however may be discussed during my initial visit, should you permit it.

Unfortunately I am not particularly accustomed to the email, or the interweb and as a result would be grateful if you might respond in traditional fashion to the enclosed address. No doubt you have many questions which I will be more than happy to answer for you upon my visit. Until then it remains only to say that Charles was a great friend of mine and any friend of his is as dear to me as he was. I hope to hear from you soon,

Yours Faithfully

Professor Herbert Hortington

Ororo read the letter a good three times before it's contents sunk in and started to make any kind of sense. Professor Xavier had never spoken of other institutions although it made sense that there would be others the likes of the Xavier School in existence. Who was this friend of the Professor's and if they were such great friends how come Ororo had never heard of him. Although she was a little uncertain, the nature of the letter sounded sincere and Ororo decided then that she would write back to Professor Herbert Hortington inviting him to visit. One visit would tell her what she needed to know about the man before she decided to involve the students.

Folding the letter up carefully and returning it to the envelope she went to find Logan and Hank to tell them about the letter and it's subject matter. Although she trusted her own judgement she felt it was best to consult the other two on a matter such as this. She was also curious to see if Hank knew of the Professor Herbert Hortington or the institute of which he spoke.

***

Kin sat up sharp in her bed, cold sweat dripping down her forehead, feeling like she couldn't get enough air into her lungs, her head ached like someone was trying to hammer a nail through her ears into her brain. The nightmares kept her awake most nights, the headaches were a recent occurrence that made sleep even more elusive. Professor Herbert had said that they might be a sign that her mutation was evolving or changing in strength somehow. As her heart rate and breathing slowed she lowered her head into her hands rubbing her temples, there was no way she was going to be able to sleep. Getting slowly out of her bed so as not to make her head worse she pulled on a pair of shorts and a t-shirt. It was five o'clock in the morning and the summer sun was rising, she would run until she couldn't run any further, and hopefully then she could sleep. Fuck the headaches, fuck the nightmares, she was stronger than all this she told herself switching her ipod on leaving her room and heading for the outdoors.