Holding up the little pot, Hank gave Jubilation a severe look and said

"And this was full, when you left it last night?"

"Almost," the girl said, "Couple of teaspoonfuls gone, that's all. I know it's dangerous stuff, but if you only have a tiny bit it's no worse than drinking lots of coffee"

"Dangerous is an understatement. If any of the other students had taken that amount of pure caffeine they'd have had a heart attack. Caffeine is one of the most potent psychoactives on the planet. Just lucky for us that it's Peter, I'm fairly sure it's impossible to overstress his heart"

"Never mind that," Charles interjected, "How long have we got before he comes down?"

"Well…." Hank thought for a minute, scribbled down a few calculations, then said "Probably about another three hours. That is, of course, if he's stopping to eat – if not then more like an hour before he'll wear himself out and we can catch him whilst he's weakened"

"I hate to be a bore but could we perhaps find a solution that doesn't involve my son being in danger of coma?" Erik asked, arching an eyebrow threateningly at Hank, "I know your Academy is very precious but it can be rebuilt, Peter can't"

"He's right, I hate to say it" Jean sighed, "We can't wait for that – we need to somehow get hold of him and get him somewhere safe whilst he works off the rest of the caffeine. The Danger Room, maybe? If we switch everything off, he can't do much harm in there and it's big enough that he won't feel too cooped up"

"That's an excellent idea Jean, now if you'd just go fetch those elephant tranquilisers that we don't have - oh wait I see the flaw in that plan" Charles told her sarcastically, rubbed a hand over his face and sighed impatiently. If this went on for much longer, he was fairly sure he'd be rebuilding the house for the second time in as many years. Peter without artificial stimulants was enough of a disaster zone – with them, he didn't seem to have any restraint or sense about how destructive his pranks could be, and it was only a matter of time before someone got hurt.

"Maybe there's a way to knock him out" Scott suggested, turning to Erik, "can't you do anything?"

"Not without consequences, Mr Summers. I can manipulate the iron in his body and temporarily drop his blood pressure low enough to render him unconscious, but at the speed he's going, well…"

"Well….?"

"I could pull all the blood out of his body at once"

"Ewww" Scott said, then "You can do that? That's pretty cool"

"Um, you guys?" Jubilation said, standing over by a window, "You might want to see this"

Joining her, the group looked in horror at the basketball court below seeming to vibrate and shudder. They couldn't make him out, but the streak of rapidly orbiting silver just had to be Peter, running laps of the court.

"Isn't the Blackbird under there?" Scott asked. Hank nodded, swallowed hard

"He can't actually be planning to take that thing for a joyride?" Jean said incredulously, "Can he even fly it?"

"Do you think he cares right now?" Charles snapped, "Come on, all of us get down there – there has to be a way to stop him long enough to get him confined"

Miraculously, by the time they had got down to the courts, Peter was still keeping up his efforts to break it apart rather than having zoomed off to cause trouble elsewhere. Xavier looked at his students, and said quietly

"I will never tell you this again, but do whatever you need to. We have a doctor here"

Reluctantly, Jubilation braced herself, and aimed a shower of green sparks into the path of the runaway whirlwind, hoping against hope she didn't get his hair – Peter would never forgive her for that, though it might just stop him. He swerved away from the sparks, yelped audibly as he was headed off the other way by an optic blast aimed at his feet. This had continued for a few minutes, before Erik had called out to them

"Charles, Jean! Make him turn this way!"

Obligingly the two telepaths combined forces, trying to ignore the agonising pain of a mind so rapid, and pushed as hard as they could to make him swerve again. A blast of wind caught them, almost overturning Charles' chair, before there was a resounding hollow clang! that echoed around the court. Then blessed silence. Looking round, the assembled students and teachers first saw Erik standing on top of a truck that had been nowhere near the school minutes before, then his son sprawled in the grass on his back, absolutely unconscious.

"Someone tie him up" Erik said, floating down from the truck, "he'll be fine, that head is remarkably thick in more ways than one"

When Peter had come round some two hours later, Hank had wrapped him up so tightly in elastic cords that he couldn't move an inch, just barely had room to breathe. His head was pounding, and under the restraining cords all his muscles burned and ached. He had a hazy memory of meeting something very large and hard head-on, but very little else – had the feeling that whatever he had been doing all day must have been fun, but an impending sense that others may not think of it quite the same way.

"Stop wriggling" Erik told him, from somewhere just out of his eye-line, "Hank had enough trouble getting a drip in you and we're certainly not untying you to fix it"

"Whu.. huh? Why'm I here?" the boy muttered, wondered why his jaw felt so painful, unaware that he'd fractured it on the side of a truck not too long ago, "Why'm I tied up?"

"Do you honestly not remember?" Erik came into view. Peter frowned at the blurry vision, crossed his eyes as if that may improve it. It didn't, "You've been tearing up the place causing mayhem all morning. Jubilation Lee accidentally drugged you, Goodness knows if you've even eaten and you're terribly dehydrated. And if your head hurts, boy then you brought it entirely on yourself"

"Causing… huh?"

"Charles is all for simply making you clean up the mess, since you weren't in your right mind. I, on the other hand do not intend to be so forgiving. You could have hurt someone today. That merits a certain degree of punishment"

Peter blinked up at his father, decided not to try speaking again since it wasn't going so well. Wondered if he was concussed, and what exactly he'd got up to that day.

"You, young man, are grounded. You will stay at the Academy for the rest of the week – no trips to town, no eating out, no bowling, no arcades. You go to class then you go to your room"

"Buh – "

"And furthermore, you will be sitting with me at mealtimes for the week. There will be healthy, balanced meals, no burgers, no pizza, and definitely no Twinkies. Do I make myself plain? And don't even think about giving me your big eyes, Boy. It's not going to work. Not this time"

Even if he had been able to speak clearly, Peter wouldn't have said anything, too appalled at the severity of the punishment to form words. Whatever he'd done, it must have been really awful to deserve this. Erik almost softened at the heartbreakingly remorseful look on his son's face, but stuck to his guns. After all, it wasn't often that he felt the need to teach Peter a lesson, but having spent the morning inwardly terrified that he'd injure himself pulling one of the stupid stunts he'd got up to, there was no way Erik was going to let this slide. He'd make sure the boy was alright for the week, spend his free time with him making sure boredom didn't drive him to distraction, get Hank to top his calories up with those vile shakes, perhaps it could even be quite a pleasant week with Peter mostly to himself, but he wasn't letting him get away with worrying his father to quite that degree.

Even if he had found toilet-papering the entire Academy absolutely hilarious.