It did not take Millie long to change into the cleanest, nicest blouse and jeans that she had with her, neither of which were very clean or nice at the moment, really. Getting Jamie tucked into bed was another story. He was as curious as a cat and kept trying to find nooks and crannies in his room and hers to explore. At least he seemed to be taking everything well. They both were, all things considered. A mad dash across half the country didn't leave much time or energy for grieving. There had been times that Jamie had come to her for comfort during the trip, but now he was consumed with the belief that they could stop for a while. Mille just hoped that turned out to be true.

She finally gotten him tucked into bed with a book and the promise that he could read it as long as he wanted and could explore in the morning. As she closed the door to his room, she reminded him that she would be right across the hall when she'd finished talking to the Professor. Then she went to the room she'd been given and walked to the laptop bag that was sitting on the queen sized bed. Inside it she found the large, yellow envelope that was marked "Professor Charles Xavier." It was still sealed. She hadn't opened it, even though her curiosity had begged her to numerous times during the nights when she couldn't sleep. Millie ran her fingers over her father's handwriting, a single tear falling onto the paper before she'd even realized she'd teared up. She cleared her throat and quickly wiped it off the paper with her thumb. She didn't have time for that kind of nonsense. She had a meeting to get to. Millie wiped her eyes and turned to her door, wondering how she was supposed to find the professor.

She needn't have wondered. As she opened her door she saw a young man wearing sunglasses walking down the hall. Millie hesitated for a second, but the man didn't give her a chance to duck back into the room.

"Are you Amelia?" he asked. At Millie's slight, cautious nod, the man offered his hand. "I'm Scott. The Professor asked me to guide you to his office when you were ready to go."

Millie took his hand carefully, noticing it was warm and slightly callused. That was surprising, considering the man was dressed in a sweater and jeans that made him seem more like a prep than someone that worked with his hands a lot. "Umn... thank you. I wasn't sure how I was going to find it," she replied as she shook his hand twice and released it.

"I don't blame you. This place is large enough that it seems like someone is always getting lost, even those of us that have lived here for years." His smile was kind, but a bit patronizing. It was obvious, to Millie at least, that he either expected her to be too shy to know he was being high handed or it was such a habit that he didn't notice anymore.

"Good to know. Shall we?" she asked, ignoring the way his attitude made her want to stiffen her spine and tell him just where he could take his help. She was too tired and just wanted to get this over with so she could crawl into bed. The easiest way to do that was to accept his help.

Scott nodded. "Follow me," he said and turned as though it were a given that she would. Well, Millie supposed that it was, since she'd just agreed to take his assistance. Still, the man's attitude rankled. Either that or she was so much on edge that everything was bothering her.

He lead her through what seemed to be a maze of hallways and staircases before he came to a large door at the end of one hallway. "He's right in there," Scott told her. He knocked on the wooden door twice before stepping back. Millie watched the door as though something might come through it to get her, the envelope clutched in her hands.

"Come in," Millie heard the Professor's smooth, cultured voice came through the door. Scott reached forward to turn the knob and pushed the door open.

"Professor? I brought Amelia as you'd asked," he said as he stepped aside to let Millie into the room.

She swallowed hard and smoothed her blouse nervously and patted her damp hair to make sure it had stayed braided. She hoped, futilely, that the blouse and jeans she'd selected didn't look too slovenly, though another part of her mind reminded her that the Professor knew he'd asked her to come before she'd really had a chance to get anything cleaned and wouldn't be expecting her to look expertly put together.

She took a deep breath and stepped inside, attempting to project an aura of confidence she didn't feel. "I'm sorry it took me so long, Professor. Jamie was excited and exhausted, so wouldn't go to sleep."

The Professor chuckled softly from his place behind a large wooden desk. "I'm not surprised. It's been an eventful evening for both of you. Please, have a seat." He gestured to one of the leather, wing back chairs in front of his desk. Millie took a tentative seat on the edge of the one on the right while the professor looked at Scott. "Thank you, Scott. I will see you in the morning," he dismissed the other man.

Scott nodded. "Good night, Professor," he said as he left, closing the door behind him.

The professor studied Millie for a long moment and she found it hard not to fidget under his scrutiny. They were both silent for a few moments, the professor considering and Millie waiting for him to tell her why he'd wanted to see her so quickly.

Finally, the professor spoke. "Amelia, do you know why your father wanted you to come here?"

"He-" She took a deep breath and tried to keep her voice steady. "He wanted me to give you this." She set the envelope on his desk and slid it forward. She watched as the professor opened the envelope and pulled out the folders inside it. While he perused it, Millie found her thoughts drifting inexorably to the last time she'd seen her father.

This wasn't supposed to be happening. This was their home. They were supposed to be safe there. But even as she thought that, more shots rang out, striking the other side brick wall of the walk in pantry and sending sharp pieces crumbling down on top of them. Millie curled around Jamie, trying to protect him.

After what seemed like an age, the shots stopped and she looked up in relief as her father came into view. He yanked the door closed, as though it would really protect them from gun fire, and crouched near their hiding spot. "They're re-loading, Flora. We don't have long. You need to go out the back and up to the shed. There's a car there and I've already got some of your things in it." He pressed her laptop bag into her hand and a key into the other. "Take Jamie. Go to Chicago. There's a safe deposit box at the Memorial Bank and Trust downtown. Everything you'll need is in there."

They heard the ominous click of a gun echo on the other side of the door that lead to the pantry and basement. Millie looked at her father. "Come with us, Dad."

"I'm buying you time." He kissed her forehead and ruffled Jamie's hair. "Now, go! I'll draw their fire."

Millie watched as he opened the door and barreled through the other one, into one of the gunmen, effectively focusing the attackers on him. As soon as the shots started, Millie grabbed Jamie's hand and they ran for the side door that lead outside. She heard the shots as they ran up the stone steps to the upper yard and the shed. As they reached the shed a bullet ricocheted off the corner of the small building and grazed her arm. It felt like fire, and she glanced back to see two of the gunmen firing up at them. She dove into the building and to the old vehicle her father had told her was waiting there. The key fit the ignition and it roared to life. The shed doors were barely open when she gunned the engine and drove away.

She closed her eyes tightly against the tears that threatened every time she remembered it. The deposit box had held the envelope, a flash drive, and an envelope of cash. The flash drive had given her instructions, where to take the envelope and where to stay along the way. He'd been planning this a long time. It was like he knew he was going to die.

"Do you know what's in here, Amelia?"

"Millie," she corrected, wiping at her eye as subtly as she could. "And, no. It wasn't for me. I'm just the delivery girl."

"Well, apart from some information that will help me immensely with several mutant rights bills I'm dealing with, he's also included transcripts for you and your brother, medical records, and the paperwork necessary for you to become your brother's legal guardian. And an extensive stock portfolio." He handed her one of the folders. "In short, he's provided everything you will need to begin again and live a comfortable life."

Millie looked through the folder, unable to make heads or tails of the stock options enclosed within it. "Oh. I see." She murmured, swallowing against a lump in her throat. "He knew this would happen?"

"I think it's better to say that he suspected something like it might, but hoped it wouldn't. Do you know what your father was doing?"

"Something with mutant rights. I know there was a bill in Nebraska that was their own version of mutant registration that included mandatory testing and trying to make it illegal for mutants to marry or have children." She closed the folder and set it on the desk.

"Yes, and because of your father's lobbying it barely made it through the doors of the local senate. He's done a lot to help the mutant cause, which is why the Friends of Humanity targeted him."

"Friends of Humanity?"

"An anti-mutant terrorist organization. They're the ones that attacked your home and, I believe, attempted to frame you for your father's murder, even though his body hasn't been recovered."

"They what?" Millie gasped, her head spinning at the implication. She gripped the arms of her chair and tried to stop her head from buzzing, barely hearing it as the professor tried to calm her. She was wanted for her father's death. She hadn't ever gotten so much as a parking ticket and she was wanted for murder. Oh, god... this couldn't be happening. What had happened to turn her life so completely upside down? She couldn't breathe, couldn't think beyond the circle of thoughts that begged for answers.

Finally, after what seemed like hours but was probably only a few moments, she heard a voice, as clear as anything, inside her head, calm and soothing.

/You must calm down, Amelia. Please, before you turn my office into a jungle./ Millie focused on his voice and slowly the buzzing receded and she was able to see clearly again.

"That's better." He patted her hand, and Millie realized that he'd come around to her side of the desk. She looked around and realized that all of the plants in his office had sprung into full bloom and some had gotten bigger. "While my day lily has never looked better, I think we'd better keep from any further outbursts." He smiled and squeezed her hand comfortingly.

"Yes... I'm sorry. I just- I can't believe I'm wanted for my father's murder."

"You're not. The detective that they got in said that there was no way you could have done all that damage on your own with a young boy in tow, to say nothing of hiding a body so completely that there's been no sign of it." He sat back in his chair and wheeled it back to a more comfortable speaking distance. Professor Xavier had his own suspicions about what had happened to his friend's body, but it wasn't the time to voice them to Amelia. "And the handwriting sample that they got from your room to compare to the note didn't match up. It was an obvious forgery. In fact, it was a rather sloppy attempt." He frowned thoughtfully. "But, the point is, you're not a suspect."

Millie nodded and ran her hands over her face. After a moment she looked up at him. "That was you in my head."

"Yes, I needed to get you calmed down. It was the only way you could hear me at that point. You panicked and blocked out everything else."

"No. Not now." Millie shook her head. "Earlier tonight. In the street when Ororo was offering us a ride. You told me it was safe to go with her. I know it wasn't me because I never call myself Amelia and it didn't sound like me. It was you."

The professor nodded. "I admit I did hope to encourage you to come here." He at least had the courtesy to look somewhat abashed at his behavior.

"And that's how you knew who we were in the foyer just based on our first names. You've been rooting around in my head!" She tried to muster a glare, but feared it might have appeared more tired than angry.

"Not at all. I haven't uncovered any secrets, Amelia, nor have I gone hunting through your memories. I merely projected my thoughts to you in that moment." He leaned back in his chair. "As for how I knew it was you, I knew you would be coming here as soon as I heard of the attack. Your father has been in contact with me for some time, though I admit we never met in person. When he was setting up the plans and arrangement for you and your brother to get to safety, he contacted me for assistance. He showed me pictures so I would know you when I saw you, and explained your abilities to me." He looked at her, his face serious. "I apologize if you feel that is a breech of privacy, and I realize it is, but I did it for your father."

Millie sighed. Her father had really thought of everything, hadn't he? "You never met him?"

"Not in person, no. Though we did speak over the phone and Internet on a number of occasions. I knew him as well as a person can under those circumstances and considered him a friend. And Amelia, you need to know, you were the one that inspired him."

She looked at him, confused. "I what?"

"You're the reason he went into legislative law and started fighting for mutant rights. He had been a very successful state prosecutor before then, but when your mother shunned you he decided to take action the best way he knew how. He's been working for mutant civil liberties, mostly in the background, for more than 10 years. After he and your mother divorced, he started speaking to the capitol in Nebraska for mutant rights. " The professor leaned forward again and took her hand into his. "He never mentioned you or your brother, that would have put you in danger, but you and your brother were what inspired your father to work for mutant rights. You two, in a way, became the faces for mutant rights in Nebraska."

Millie swallowed hard and pulled her hand back and looked down at the floor. "I didn't know. I mean, I just always thought... I can't remember a time when he wasn't lobbying for mutant rights. We talked about it, but he never really told me why he was doing it. And I didn't think- Why didn't he tell me?"

"I don't know. Maybe he thought you knew." Charles cat back in his chair and folded his hands carefully in his lap. "I thought you'd like to know why your father had been working so hard for his cause.

"It's getting late. Let's continue our talk tomorrow. You're exhausted and have much more to think on now than you did."

Millie nodded and stood. "Alright. Thank you, professor."

"You're welcome. Oh, before I forget, do you know how to read that stock portfolio?"

"Not a bit." She shook her head as everything caught up with her.

"I know someone that can probably help you make sense of it if you don't mind me showing it to someone."

"Ah, no, that's fine. I appreciate it. Good night, sir."

"Good night, Amelia. I'm glad you made it."

Millie nodded and walked out of the office. She barely remembered getting to her guest room, but was glad she managed. As she changed into her night clothes, she was certain that despite how tired she was, her mind wouldn't let her sleep.

She was mistaken and as soon as her head hit the unfamiliar pillow she began dreaming.

The dreams always started like this. She was in her favorite pajamas, the green flannel ones with the kittens and flowers printed on them, with her feet tucked into her dark green house shoes and her robe thrown over it all. Her hair was loose about her shoulders and slightly damp as though she'd just showered. She was curled in the wide outdoor rocker on the back deck of their house with a cup of tea cradled in her hands that she sipped as she stared at the sky. Without looking, she knew her father would be sitting in a chair next to her in a pair of well worn jeans and old concert t-shirt. His longish, dark hair would be tied back at the nape of his neck and he'd have an open Harps beer in his right hand. Even though he was dressed like a retired rock star, there was an air of authority about him. It was the same air that made people pay attention to him when he spoke in court or to the House.

She felt more than saw him take a drink of his beer and she raised her mug to her lips to sip it automatically. Chamomile. Her favorite.

"So, you've made it. Thank goodness," her father said, his voice deep and powerful. "I was afraid that you wouldn't get there in time."

"We almost didn't. The car broke down five miles away from the Institute. It was only luck, really, that Ms. Munroe was headed out to the store and stopped to pick us up." She shifted in her seat.

"Ororo's a good woman."

"She seems to be, but I wasn't going to trust her at first. It was only because I needed to get Jamie out of the rain that I trusted her at all." She paused. "Why did you want us to come here? This whole month, all you've been doing is telling me we had to get here, had to hurry. Why here? And how did you know that something was going to happen enough to prepare everything in advance like you did?"

"The Xavier Institute for Higher Learning is a school for mutants, Flora. Charles must have told you that much already." He looked over at her, his green eyes warm. "Perhaps I should have sent you and Jamie here years ago, when I first learned about it, but by then you were too old for high school and I didn't want to uproot Jamie after the divorce. He'd already lost one parent, and being sent off to a boarding school so soon after would have been akin to losing another. And I didn't want to lose either of you after losing your mother and Peter." He looked at her. "Was I wrong, Flora? Should I have sent you two here when I first learned of it?"

Millie shook her head. "No. I hate that you were killed, daddy, but I wouldn't trade these last three years of being with you and Jamie for anything. And neither would he." She took another drink of her tea. "But how did you know to have everything ready? It's like you knew they were going to attack."

He took a deep breath. "I suppose I should have told you this years ago. I'm a mutant, Flora. I've got a touch of pre-cognitive abilities and some telepathy. That's how I'm able to communicate to you now."

"But, you're dead, Dad. You have to be. There's no way you could have survived that attack." She swallowed hard and looked at him. "Is there?"

"Just remember that sometimes, things are not as they seem." He reached over and cupped her cheek in his hand. It felt warm and real against her skin, even though it was only a dream. "And I'm so glad you made it. I love you. Now, wake up."