CHAPTER 3: Storm Stories

Thursday, August 25, 2011 – 9:12 PM

Night had fallen on the Institute, and not a creature stirred in the night save the cricket ever singing their doleful melodies of the nocturnal realm. With the night came peace and relaxation for those at the Institute as most had to prepare for another school day the next day—although there were whispers in the wind that school the next day may not happen.

Something stirred within the bushes outside, then a shadow darted out from the bushes into the shadows of the forest. It sniffed about, seeing if it was alone. Nothing was near, and it darted out again into the shadow of a tree at the edge. Between him and the Institute now was over one-hundred feet of barren land with nothing to hide under or inside. Listening closely, he heard a very quiet whirring of mechanics: security cameras, watching every inch of the Institute, looking back and forth as they did. The shadow soon caught the glint of the cameras in the moonlight, and his eyes locked onto them. He watched them swing back and forth, looking for any time there was a blind-spot he could take advantage of. Several swings later, he spotted one blind-spot and studied it, timed it. Finally, he burst from cover, sprinting for the drain pipe that he had targeted and then climbed up it liked a monkey.

Now on the roof, he looked around, sniffing the air. There had to be a way into this mansion, and finally get what he came for. He spotted near the chimney an air duct. A mansion this size needed a very large air vent duct to keep air circulating throughout the building…big enough for someone to crawl through. Quickly but stealthily, he crawled across the rooftop to the opening. Upon arrival, he found that it was covered securely with a mesh grate to keep animals out. It would keep animals out sure, but he was more than that. With a solid punch, the intruder annihilated the mesh, and then ripped it open with his bare hands. The way was now open; in he crawled.

Wedging himself against the walls of the vent, he slowly crawled down to avoid a noisy entrance, let alone a nasty fall. If he guessed correctly, the vent descended a short distance before splitting off horizontally to feed into the mansion. However, he didn't need to get that far. Near the split should be some vents that fed the air into the attic. Once he got into the attic, the rest of breaking into the mansion would be pathetically easy. A few moments later, he reached the T-split and took off down his right. Almost immediately, he found a vent that opened up into the attic. Grabbing it, he worked it off quietly and slid it into the vent opposite of the vent opening. A poor burglar would probably let it drop into the attic noisily; not this guy. With that out of the way, he dropped down. Here he was: the attic. Now the hard part was done; the easy part was next.

Suddenly, the wind picked up in the attic. The intruder sniffed around, alarmed. If there was wind this strong, then something was very wrong. Leaping up, he pulled himself back into the vent. He pulled the cover back onto the vent and crawled on. Minor setback; one that he could work around. He crawled on quietly, but he found himself distracted by the wind. Where did it come from, and how was it possible such a blast of wind could occur in an attic, or any enclosed space?

A crack of thunder interrupted his thoughts, freezing him in place. A storm? There was no forecast for a storm. Could the storm have caused the wind? He didn't have time to think about it, when a roaring sound started building behind him, and it sounded like the roar of a mighty waterfall. Looking under his arm and behind, he saw the reason: a wall of water surging forward to wash him out. Silent tread all forgotten, he crawled quickly in a panic to get away, but it was too late. The water smacked into him and washed him away.

He struggled to hold onto his breath as the roaring current swept him further into the ducts. Where was he going to end up, and what caused this flood! Then, he burst through a vent and all the water and all it carried poured into a metal dome-like room. Coughing, the intruder looked around, and saw standing in the middle of the room a woman: chocolate-skilled, brilliant white hair and garbed in black with a flowing cape.

The woman looked down at him. "Looks like I caught myself a burglar. You look a little flushed, it seems…" Suddenly, her eyes started to glow white. "…and the forecast is not good."

Angrily, the intruder leaped at the woman, but found himself blown back against the wall by a frigid wind. Since he was still soaked, all the water on him froze solid, forming a cocoon of ice over him. The woman smiled at the misfortune that fell on the intruder. Suddenly, the intruder shuddered as he struggled against the ice coat, but finally broke it off. Growling, he glared at the woman. "That…was cold."

"Then let's warm you up."

Rising into the air, she pressed a button on a watch-like device on her wrist. The intruder looked up briefly, but noticed a series of turrets materialize from holes in the wall. He barely had time to dodge when they opened fire. They were fast, but the intruder was faster. He ducked underneath the fire and dodged back and forth, bobbing and weaving until he reached one turret. Leaping above it, he clenched his fist and out came three metal claws from between his knuckles. With one slash, the turret was cleaved in two. The intruder then looked towards the remaining ones.

"Simulation terminated! Simulation terminated!" said a computer voice.

"Sorry, Wolverine. We can only allow so many turrets to be destroyed, you know," said a kind voice from the observation deck above the room.

The intruder pulled off his mask, revealing the chiseled face of Logan. "Hey, Hank, you asked me to give a demo. I gave you a demo."

In the observation room, Hank, Kurt, Scott and Jason had watched everything from before the break-in to the melee in the room below on the monitors. Jason smirked while shaking his head. "Demo? As in what: demonstration or demolition?" he quipped. "What was I supposed to learn from that?"

The door opened in the observation room, and in stepped Storm. "The lesson was for you to study many devices in security, determined their respective weaknesses and how to evade them. We may find ourselves in situations where we need to stay undetected by security."

"That's right, Scarface," said Wolverine, who had followed Storm in, looking no worse for wear aside from his outfit. "And I say our own security systems need some patchwork."

Kurt seemed to not notice the diagnostic statement, and merely snacked on his popcorn while hanging upside-down from his tail. "That was tight, Logan! I give it two thumbs up!" And so he gave them, but they being upside down caused a noticeable perceptive flaw, provoking Jason to roll his eyes.

In return, Logan ignored the congratulatory appraisal. "The vents are too breach-able. It took me just one punch. And do we really need to have the vents that big?"

"Building codes, Logan," Hank said.

Logan growled, but continued. "Only way I can see that patched up is to electrify parts of it, or even install poison gas sprayers or—"

"Wolverine…" Storm said admonishingly.

"All right, all right: knock-out gas sprayers." Logan crossed his arms resignedly.

Jason's eyes widened as he pursed his lips. "Wow, no half-assing it around here, huh?"

"Anonymity is our best defense, Jason," Mr. McCoy said. "but even it can only do so much. If per chance word does get out about the true nature of our home, those who hate us will surely invade, one way or another. We need to be ready."

"Oh, I understand perfectly," Jason replied quickly. "I'm just glad people do care that much here." He then turned to Logan. "I assume sooner or later, I'll have to bust in somewhere to show what I learned here, huh?"

"Got it in one, Scarface."

Jason didn't particularly care for the spreading nickname he had been branded with, but he didn't dare argue about it with Logan. Suddenly, Kurt popped out of a cloud to Jason's right, somehow having reoriented himself right-side-up and not spilling the popcorn at all. "Ooh, that one's a fun one. It's the only time we ever get to gas the teachers."

Jason looked quizzical at Kurt.

"Elf!" Logan barked. "What have I told you about telling others about future training exercises?"

Kurt winced. "Sorry…"

"Not sure I want to know anyway…" Jason added. He then looked into the popcorn bowl. "Wow, this looks perfectly…bland."

Kurt looked into the bowl. "What's wrong with it?"

"I don't see any butter…or even salt."

"So?"

"So…you're missing half the flavor!" Jason then thought about what he said. "I take that back: you're missing all the flavor."

"If you two are done," Logan growled. "I think I have something to say. Scarface, you got an early morning session with me tomorrow at six. Got it?"

Jason nodded, although inwardly he groaned. "Yes, sir."

"And don't call me, 'sir.'"

"Sorry, s—Logan."

"I'm afraid we may have to cancel that training session, Logan," came the Professor's mental voice.

Everyone looked up upon hearing that echo through their heads. Then, the doors opened again to permit the Professor in. Jason asked first, "What changed?"

"I just received news that is of great cause for concern." The Professor looked serious. "I assume you all have been hearing about Hurricane Irene on the news."

"Who hasn't?" Jason said. "I've never seen a hurricane get this much media coverage since Katrina."

"Well, I'm afraid it's going to get worse than that. As of today, an official advisory was given for the region: Irene is expected to make landfall in a couple of days in New York."

That got everyone's attention, but not nearly as much as Jason's. "A hurricane? Here?" Jason's voice had a slight edge of worry to it.

The Professor nodded. "It appears to be so."

Jason sighed nervously. Unnoticed by everyone, Storm had looked at Jason with a look of concern in her eyes.

"Because of its approach, all of us must get the grounds ready for this kind of weather, which means all training sessions are cancelled until further notice."

"Cool!" Kurt said.

Jason pursed his lips, trying not to rebuke Kurt.

The Professor continued. "During the time we have, we will all be preparing the grounds for the landfall, and I would advise remaining on the grounds as well, especially on Saturday,"

"When do they think the hurricane will hit?" Scott asked.

"Either late Saturday or early Sunday, which is why we need to spend the next two days preparing. I have no doubt that school will also be cancelled for at least tomorrow."

"Dude, really?" Kurt said enthusiastically. "This is going to be awesome!"

Jason gritted his teeth in annoyance.

Storm interceded. "Kurt, this is serious. A hurricane is no laughing matter."

Kurt didn't seem to take the hint. "Nothing you can't handle, right Storm?"

Jason listened in. He knew that Storm had the ability to create and dissipate storms; could she do the same here and avoid all the trouble?

Storm crossed her arms. "This is a storm that nature created, and I can't stand in the way of nature, no matter how powerful I am. Even if I could dissipate it, I shouldn't. Storms are necessary to restore balance to an unbalanced atmosphere, so I must let it go."

Jason then looked crestfallen; he should have known.

"In the meantime, Kurt, please take this seriously."

"As must we all," the Professor said. "Now I suggest all of you return to your rooms. We have much to do in the next few days."

As the others stirred to leave the observation room, Jason was the only one to hesitate briefly, but then wordlessly left after the others. Storm and the Professor were the only ones left, both for the same reason. Storm spoke, "Did you happen to get a reading of Jason's thoughts when he heard?"

"I didn't have to," the Professor said. "Jason is terrified."

"I assumed as much," Storm replied. "What shall we do?"

"Leave him be for now, but we must keep an eye on him for the next couple of days. Hopefully, tonight will be a quiet one for him."

"I hope so, Professor."

That night, 3:02 AM

"Please, wake up! Please!"

Jason stirred in his bed, gasping and moaning as the images poured forth through his mind.

"Help! Somebody, help! Somebody!"

"No," Jason moaned. "No…"

"Somebody please help!"

"Stop it…"

"He's going to die! Somebody, please!"

Jason thrashed around in his bed violently, but the images kept coming. Then, he heard it, a roar.

"Help me!"

"STOOOOOOOOP!" Jason screamed as he leaped out of bed. Landing hard, he curled up on the floor, eyes streaming tears as his mouth cried out wails of fear.

His roommate, Piotr, leaped out of bed at the sound of Jason's scream. Looking around in shock, he saw Jason on the floor in a fetal position. He was instantly at Jason's side. "Jason, are you all right!" He was about to touch Jason, and saw the moonlight reflect off his metal skin. Jason's terror had startled him so badly that he had turned into steel without realizing it. Concentrating, his skin returned to normal. "Jason, please, answer me…" he pleaded quietly.

Slowly, Jason uncurled himself, but was still bawling. Piotr helped him sit up. Jason kept saying "oh god" over and over. Piotr grabbed Jason's blanket off the bed and wrapped it around Jason and held him against himself to comfort him, reminded of how his little sister would be like when she had a nightmare; only this looked worse.

The door burst open, admitting Scott and Jean. "Jason? Is everything all right?"

Jean saw Jason on the floor with Piotr. "Oh my god, what happened?"

Piotr kept hold of Jason. "Jason was so scared. His scream made me turn into metal."

"Yeah, we heard it all the way down the hall," Jean said, getting to Jason's side.

Kitty and Rogue then appeared behind Scott. Kitty saw what was going on. "Is he all right?"

Jean felt Jason's face. "He's clammy." She then took Jason's pulse. "And his heart is racing and beating hard. Jason, can you hear me?"

Jason made no response. His gaze was fixed and his breaths were short and quick.

"What is wrong with him?" Piotr said, scared for his friend.

"I don't know," Jean said. "Jason, please talk to us."

Jason made no response.

"We'd better get him to the Professor," Scott said. "Kitty, get the Professor." Kitty took off without a word. "Peter, you and I will get Jason to the Professor's study. "Rogue, get to the kitchen and get Jason some water."

"Better yet," Jean said. "Warm up some chamomile tea. We need to get his nerves calm down."

"Ok," Rogue said, leaving herself.

Jean removed the blanket from off Jason's back, so Scott and Piotr could get Jason on his feet. His condition had not improved. "Come on, Jason. We're going to take you to talk to the Professor. He'll help you..." As Scott and Piotr helped Jason up, Jean spoke to them. "Keep talking to him. We got to snap him out of his trance."

Piotr obeyed immediately as they led Jason out. "Jason, it's me. Please, talk to us."

Scott did the same. "Come on, be a trooper."

In due process of time, Scott and Piotr managed to get Jason to the study. Ever so slowly, the color started returning to Jason's face as they sat him down on the couch, flanked by Scott and Piotr. Jean brought the blanket and wrapped it around Jason. Soon after, Kitty returned with the Professor as well as Storm. Both took one look at Jason and knew what happened. The Professor rolled right up to Jason. "Jason, can you hear me?"

Finally, Jason was able to respond weakly. "I—Where am I?"

"You're in my study at the Institute. Do you remember what happened?"

Jason looked up gingerly and blinked several times. "P-Professor?"

"Yes, I'm here. Jason, I need you to concentrate: do you remember what happened?"

Rogue returned with the chamomile tea, still steaming from the microwave. "I have the tea."

Jean replied. "Thank you, Rogue." Jean then took it out of her hands telekinetically to avoid skin contact with Rogue's bare hands, and then gave it to Jason. "Here, Jason, this should calm you down some."

Jason's hands slowly wrapped around the cup, and he automatically took a couple of sips. Very quickly, his breath slowed and his eyes took a less deathly look. He sighed, "Thank you…"

"All right, Jason," the Professor said. "Answer the question: do you remember anything that happened?"

Jason tried to think, all the while rubbing his chest. His heart had beaten so hard that it ached tiredly. "I-I don't remember. I just remember being spared spit-less…but before that, nothing. It's all a blank."

The Professor leaned back in his wheelchair. "Night terror; something provoked your subconscious into a state of pure fear…yet I get the sense there is more to it than that."

Jason looked up. "What do you mean?"

"Have you had problems with anything like this before coming to the Institute?"

Jason paused to remember. "A couple of times, I think, about right after I got out of the hospital. I didn't tell too many people about it; just my parents and my therapist."

The Professor looked thoughtful for a second and then asked. "Jason, I would like to go into your mind to see what happened."

Jason didn't move, but the Professor knew that Jason had flinched mentally. "I-I don't know if I can…"

"Don't worry; Storm and I are here." The Professor then looked at everyone else present. "The rest of you return to bed; we have much to do in the coming days."

While most of the others got up to go back to bed, Piotr remained rooted to his spot. "Please, Professor, can I stay?"

The Professor looked at Piotr. "That will be up to Jason."

Jason slowly looked at Piotr, and then he looked back at the Professor and nodded. "I'd like that."

"All right," the Professor said. "I suggest you give your tea to Piotr to hold for now."

Jason did so, but had to ask. "You're sure this isn't going to hurt?"

"Yes, now please relax...and try to focus on tonight."

Jason took a deep breath, and then felt a heavy hand grasp his right wrist. He looked and found Piotr looking at him, giving Jason a nod that he was going to be all right. Jason returned a weak smile, and then he took another deep breath and then closed his eyes.

The Professor put his hands softly over Jason's face, his thumbs just above his eyes and his fingers lacing through Jason's hair over his ears. Then, the Professor closed his own eyes and took a dive into Jason's mind.

The Professor's mental form flew through a beehive of memories, mechanics, emotions and thoughts as he searched for one out of billions. He was looking for a memory, locked away yet resonating so powerfully that it hotwired emotions and thoughts. Then, he came upon the mental equivalent of a locked door, but it was budging, and light was shedding through the cracks. The Professor stood before it, and placed a hand on it. As soon as he did, the beehive around him disappeared in a flash, and then he found himself standing on a road in the middle of nowhere as a storm raged.

The Professor recognized this place, but only saw it once. This was outside Red Rock, Oklahoma…Jason's hometown. He then realized what this memory contained, and opted to withdraw. The memory was already showing signs of instability; Jason's subconscious was fighting his mind probe as an act of self-preservation.

"Please, wake up! Please!"

The Professor's gaze shot behind him as the lightning flashed in the night. That was Jason's voice! In the distance, he saw two lights shooting upwards into the sky and immediately strode for it. The voice continued to cry out desperately.

"Help! Somebody, help! Somebody!"

And then, he saw it. Jason, bloodied and broken, was leaning beside the body of another man, more horrifically injured than Jason was and pinned under a wreaked vehicle. Jason looked around, crying for help.

"Somebody please help! He's going to die! Somebody, please!"

The Professor now understood why this memory was locked away. This was the core of Jason's fear of storms, and rightly so. Suddenly, the wind picked up, and there was a roar in the distance like a freight train. Turning to see, he saw an immense twister come bearing down upon them all, devouring trees and telephone polls as it came. Jason seemed to notice the twister in the memory.

"HELP ME!"

The Professor's eyes snapped open and he lurched away from Jason, who himself fell back in his chair and gasped for breath. Piotr helped Jason back up, and immediately looked at the Professor. "What did you see?"

The Professor himself looked tired from witnessing that. "It appears that it is a repressed memory, but heavily distorted. From what I have seen, it was a memory of what happened to Jason on that fateful night."

Jason's eyes shot open. "No, I don't want to hear any more."

The Professor looked compassionately at Jason. "I understand your reluctance, Jason, but I fear if we don't deal with this soon, this memory will—"

Jason started to panic. "Please, Professor. I-I-I don't want to hear anything more about it, or talk about it."

Ororo kept prodding. "Jason…"

"Please, both of you. I know that you're just trying to help…but…" Jason's eyes looked earnest. "…there are some things that are better left buried."

Piotr felt the distress Jason was feeling, and his heart told him to take Jason's side in this. "Professor, if Jason does not want to do it…maybe we should not press him."

The Professor regarded both Jason and Piotr, and then relaxed. "All right, then. But remember Jason, if you ever want to talk about it whenever, we are always here to help you."

Jason finally relaxed. "Thank you, Professor…" As he relaxed, he felt the need for sleep skyrocket inside him. "I'd better get back to bed."

The Professor nodded. "Yes, we have a long day tomorrow. Get some sleep you two."

"Thank you, Professor," Piotr said, handing back the tea to Jason.

Without another word, Jason and Piotr made their way back in their room, leaving the Professor and Ororo to their thoughts and worries. Meanwhile, Jason was silent on the way back, reluctant to talk about anything. Part of him wanted to sleep the night away, but some small part of him was paralyzed with fear of going back to bed, lest the night terror return. A small part of him wanted to talk to the Professor about this as well, but that same fear kept him from facing it. Jason inwardly sighed; there were a lot of times he felt like a coward, and this was one of those times.

Later that morning…

The kitchen was bustling as the students of the Institute milled about getting their respective breakfasts. The Professor had given them all a mental prodding that school had been cancelled and that instead, all students must help in preparing the Institute for the incoming hurricane. More or less, the students were not worried about the hurricane at all, although it was the talk at the table.

"It's gonna stink to be locked up in this place for one or two days," quipped Bobby as he sat down with a bowl of cereal.

"Tell me about it," Tabitha replied. "What's up with that? A girl like me doesn't coop very well…"

"I heard about the hurricane at school yesterday," Ray added. "I even overheard Jean's boyfriend, Duncan, is even throwing a hurricane party on Saturday."

"See, that's what we need!" Tabitha said. "A party! Two days without fun will be enough to put me in the hospital."

"That's a great idea!" Bobby replied. "I'm sure even Kurt and Kitty could even convince others to get down with the idea."

"Oh, they'll be easy," Tabitha said. "The problem is the Prof."

The three at the table didn't say a word for a second, when Bobby got an idea. "Hey, we should try to convince Jason to talk to the Prof."

"The new cutie?" Tabitha said. "Whatever, he's like a professor's pet."

"Maybe, but after last night, he might not be so receptive," Bobby said.

"What are you talking about?" Ray asked.

"Didn't you hear? He completely wigged out last night. It took three of the others to get him calmed down."

Tabitha was all ears. "Time to talk, Bobby. Tell me all about it!"

"All I heard came from the others. What I heard, Jason woke up screaming his head off during the night. Scott, Peter and Jean got him to the Professor to calm him down, but beyond that, I don't know anything."

Ray pursed his lips. "I heard that Jason was a 'special case,' when he first came here."

Tabitha looked skeptical. "Come on, buzzy, you think Jason is crazy?"

"I'm just saying that he might not be quite right upstairs. Both of you heard he was in a really bad accident with his dad, right?"

"Yeah, what of it?" Bobby asked.

"And we've all seen that scar on his head. What if that accident really gave his head such a whack that it…well…changed him? I mean, geez, I wouldn't believe a guy for a minute if he said his head was right after taking a blow like that…well…unless he's Logan. Then again, he's already crazy."

"Aren't you exaggerating a bit, Ray?" Bobby asked.

"You said it yourself that he wigged out last night, Bobby," Ray insisted. "He probably couldn't even tell where he was or who was helping him until the Prof helped him. If he snaps again, who knows what he's going to do?"

"Aren't you being just a little paranoid?" Tabitha said, smiling.

Ray rubbed his eyes as he got up from the table. "Never mind…" And he walked off.

Both watched him go, and Tabitha promptly said. "So, I'm thinking we should really have Kitty do the asking…"

With the change of subject, Bobby and Tabitha began to hatch a plan to flavor up their little confinement spell they all had to deal with it. If they played their cards right, they could have it without a problem.

Piotr sat in a chair pulled up along Jason's bed. Jason hadn't moved from the bed since he fell asleep on it after last night. It was getting late in the morning already, but he didn't have the heart to wake up Jason after such a nightmarish night. Piotr stayed up as long as Jason was awake, making sure Jason would at least try to get some sleep. When he finally did, Piotr turned in himself. Now it was morning and Piotr had gotten up first. He had no desire to get breakfast, at least not yet, until he was sure Jason was all right. So he waited here, having pulled up a chair from his desk to watch over him.

As he waited, his mind wandered down different paths of thought. Jason had been at the Institute for about two weeks now, and so much has happened to him: school, a break-in by Toad, a faceoff with Sabretooth, and now this. When he arrived here, things were a little smoother; although that probably had something to do with the fact he had locked himself away for the most part. Jason's arrival was extremely eventful. He couldn't help but wonder why that is. Jason had enough trouble to deal with; why should he have to deal with so much more?

Piotr allowed himself to smile. At one point in time, he imagined that the life he was living was a form of punishment for selling his soul to the devil, as it were, when he served under Magneto in exchange for his sister's health. But since he met Jason, his life had changed. Jason and himself had both experienced nearly unbearable troubles and both carry scars from their affairs with tribulation, yet here they were. Neither of them could have done it on their own; they had to depend on each other, as well as their respective friends. Piotr had to open up himself to even begin to feel better about the choices he made before, and Jason listened to every word. That simple action did so much for Piotr that he felt like he owed Jason a lot for it. Was that why he was sitting here now, as a form of returning the favor? A voice in Piotr's head told him there was more to it than that, but as he tried to come up with the real reason, it evaded him. Why was that?

Suddenly, Jason's breathing changed as he took a deep breath and his head moved slightly. Piotr had noticed this; Jason was finally waking up. He reached out to him to lay a hand on his shoulder. "Jason?"

As soon as Piotr's hand touched Jason's shoulder, Jason bolted awake and his own hand shot out and grabbed Piotr's wrist. Piotr nearly jumped out of his chair in surprise as each of them exchanged wild looks. Finally, Jason relaxed and released his hold on Piotr. "Oh, geez, Peter, don't scare me like that."

"I-I am sorry," Piotr quickly apologized.

Jason quickly replied. "It's okay; I shouldn't have jumped like that…but god, I feel so jumpy today."

Piotr started to relax. "You have better sleep?"

"I guess…" Jason rubbed his eyes. "I feel exhausted though…" Jason then rubbed his chest, wincing at the same time. "…and I can feel my heart in my chest; it's like it's tired. What time is it?"

"A little after nine. School was cancelled today as well…"

Jason sighed a bit. "Well, that's a relief. I guess everyone else is already up and about."

"Yes," Piotr said.

"Well, I guess I'd better get along myself."

Piotr looked concerned. "Are you sure you are all right, Jason?"

Jason looked up at Piotr. "I'm all right, Peter. The Professor said we all have to help get ready for…" Jason cut himself off a bit. "…for you-know-what."

Jason's choice of omitting the word hurricane confused Piotr, and only served to add to his concerns, but he didn't say anything as Jason got up from the bed, rather gingerly Piotr noticed. Jason rubbed his eyes a couple more times and contended to crouch. "Good lord, I feel like my head wants to float away."

Piotr stood up, and laid a hand on Jason's shoulder. "Are you sure?" he prodded.

Jason irritably turned, shoving Piotr's hand off his shoulder with his own. "Peter, I'm fine!" Jason answered.

Piotr was taken aback by Jason's reaction. "O-ok."

Jason rubbed his head. "I'm sorry, Peter, but I really am fine. I just need to eat some breakfast before I do anything. It's just morning shit, s'all. You'd better get breakfast yourself; I'm going to take a shower." With that, Jason grabbed a towel and his personal set of bathing lotions and left the room, leaving Piotr alone.

Piotr sat back down briefly. Despite Jason's reassurances and rebuttals, Piotr was not convinced he was all right at all, and it hurt that Jason wouldn't open up to him. But what could he do right now? Piotr sighed, hoping that Jason would open up before this stress got to his head.

"Where are we going to put this stuff anyway?" Bobby asked, looking at the lawn furniture in the back lawn of the Institute.

Scott half-glared at Bobby through his shades. "There's plenty of room in the lower levels, Bobby."

Kurt cut in. "I can just port them down without a problem!"

"I'm game for that!" Bobby said.

"We want it to be organized," Scott replied sternly. "If you just port down and leave them, it will be a tangled mess before you get half the furniture down there."

"So, what is the plan then, Fearless Leader?" Bobby quipped.

Scott ignored the shot. "We can take the chairs no problem. Once we can get down there, one of us can stay there and help Kurt put the table down there once he ports it down."

"Sounds easy enough," said a voice coming towards them.

All looked to see Jason, who looked a little pale in the sunlight, coming towards them. "Look who finally decided to join us!" Bobby teased.

"Melt away, Bobby," Jason teased back.

"That just might happen if I stay out here too long. It's hot out here!" Bobby complained.

"Thanks for the weather report," Jason replied sarcastically. "Now back to the news, I think we have a formulating plan on how to deal with lawn furniture clutter?"

"You might say that," Scott said. "You're up to it?"

Jason saw the underlying meaning of that question instantly. His eyes narrowing, he replied a little sharply. "I'm perfectly fine, Scott."

Scott's eyes narrowed slightly behind his shades, but he ignored it. "Okay then, Jason and Kurt, you handle this set of tables and chairs and Bobby and I will handle the set on the other side of the pool. If you need us at all, give us a holler."

Jason's eye twitched in annoyance, but Kurt intervened, "Will do, Herr Visor!"

Scott rolled his eyes at the brand. "Come on, we don't have two days to finish everything, and we already have a late start. Let's get it done! Come on, Bobby."

Bobby cracked a grin. "'Herr Visor,' huh? I'm going to have to remember that one…"

"Take your cue from Jason, Bobby: melt away," Scott replied.

Kurt barely had time to smirk at that exchange, when Jason huffed and began to work with the nearest chair. Kurt looked at Jason. "Are you all—" Kurt shut his mouth quickly, but it was too late.

Jason spun around, his eyes flashing in anger. "I'm fine, Kurt!"

Kurt raised his hands defensively. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean it that way!"

Jason didn't seem convinced. "Well, what do you mean then?"

Kurt found himself tongue-tied to find an excuse.

Jason's brow fell. "Thought so." Jason sharply turned around and heaved a chair over his shoulder. "I'll see you downstairs," he growled as he walked by.

Across the pool, Scott had seen this exchange from afar and could only sigh. Jason was certainly not all right, but he didn't know how much he or anyone could take Jason's temper today.

"Scott?" came a telepathic inquiry.

Scott answered the same way as he worked. "What is it, Jean?"

"What's going on over there? I keep getting brainwaves of rage from near where you are."

"That would be Jason. He's not handling things very well but he lashes out at anyone who tries to help him."

Scott could feel a hint of sadness in Jean's mental voice. "I was afraid of that. It's almost like back at the hospital; Jason would lash out defensively if he didn't want to face or talk about something."

"Nothing we can do about it now. I guess all we can do is try to keep him calm and distracted. If it gets worse, then we'll have to refer to the Professor."

Jean sighed. "I guess so. Just…keep an eye on him."

"Will do." Scott let that part of his mind return to the physical realm and back to work. Jason had already taken one chair down, leaving behind a stung Kurt behind. Scott sighed himself; there were now two storms to get ready for, and one of them was already here.

Jason took a breather down in the basement levels of the Institute after moving a few pieces of furniture, wondering what had come over him. He hadn't been up for two hours and he already bit off the heads of Piotr, Scott and Kurt. Jason rubbed his head as his mind raced to find out why. All they did was ask if he was all right, and he lashed out at them.

Jason's face hardened at the thought. He was perfectly fine, he told himself, and they knew it. They were just being nice. Somewhere deep within himself, Jason felt a reprimanding voice tell him that they weren't just being nice; they were concerned. But why? He was perfectly fine! Just one bad night and he's being treated like he got diagnosed with terminal cancer, and that pissed Jason off…but did that justify his harsh treatment of his friends?

As his pride and conscience warred, he suddenly had the feeling he wasn't alone. His eyes snapped up and saw the form of Storm come towards him.

Ororo's soft brown eyes met Jason's harsh green ones. "Jason?"

Jason didn't hesitate. "Storm, I mean this with the upmost amount of respect it calls for: if you're going to ask me if I'm all right, my answer will be the same as the last dozen times I was asked it, and it will be the same for the next hundred times people will ask me."

Ororo was a bit taken aback at Jason's attitude, but didn't back down. "You know why they ask you, do you?"

Jason opened his mouth of answer sharply, but something checked his tongue. He then merely sighed and turned away, his pride not letting him answer.

"I know you don't want to talk about it, Jason, or you probably don't even remember last night…"

Jason didn't move, but Jason's face changed at that statement. Truth be told, everything was a blur from the previous night. Last thing he could really remember was talking to the Professor in the study, and before that was the Danger Room session. Despite his curiosity, something told him that it was a good idea not to remember…and that gave him déjà vu.

"…but must you be so angry?"

Jason half-turned to Storm, a glint of anger still in his eyes. "I'm not angry…"

Ororo didn't answer, but her look said everything.

Jason knew he was caught, but his pride wouldn't let up. Turning away again, he huffed. "I'm just frustrated that people keep asking me the same question when I'm perfectly fine."

Ororo sighed quietly; Jason wasn't about to drop his defenses anytime soon apparently. "All I ask is that you keep a level head. It won't help any of us if you keep jumping down people's throats while we are preparing for the hurricane."

Jason didn't move nor speak.

Ororo finally turned away. "If you're ready to help us again, we'll be outside…" She then proceeded to leave Jason.

"Storm," said Jason suddenly.

Ororo stopped and turned back to the teen. "Yes?"

"Has anyone, or a group of people, asked you about where you came from? And does the answer of that question bother you so much that you don't want to talk about it? And when they keep asking you, doesn't it get under your skin?"

Ororo let that series of questions work through her mind, and saw what Jason was really asking for. "Is that what you think they are asking you for?"

Jason looked back at Ororo, the glint still in his eyes. "That's what it ends up becoming. If I tell people I'm not all right, they'll ask why. If I tell them why, they're going to want to know where that comes from, and that is the one thing I am not going to talk about."

Ororo understood. Besides her, there were few others that knew the journey Jason had taken to come to the Institute, and that certain elements of it had probably scarred him for life. "I understand."

Jason finally turned full front to Ororo. "Then you should also understand why I have no desire to talk about last night; not to you, not the Professor, not anyone!" With that, Jason turned to leave.

"Jason, where are you going?"

"Back to work. We have a hurricane coming, right?"

Ororo signed. "All right, but remember what I asked for."

Jason stopped in his tracks, and then looked over his shoulder at Ororo. "You might want to spread the word about giving me some space. Better that way." Jason then left, leaving Ororo alone.

Ororo looked sadly after the boy. Jason was dealing with this the wrong way, and if he didn't realize it soon enough, bothersome questions would be the least of his concerns.

"Storm?" came a telepathic prodding.

Ororo smiled a bit. She figured this was coming. "Yes, Professor?"

"It has come to my attention that Jason is a bit…testy as of late."

"You can say that. He's being stubborn regarding last night."

"As I feared. Jean had just informed me about an exchange he and Kurt had just moments ago, as well as with Scott."

Ororo's brow lowered over her eyes. So, it started already. "He attempted to remain cordial with me, but I could tell he was holding himself back."

"Very well. We'll have to keep an eye on Jason, but at the same time give him his space. Hopefully, in time, he'll cool off long enough to realize what he has been doing…"

Ororo had a feeling that wouldn't happen, but she hoped for that outcome as well. "All right, Professor."

"Good. Keep me updated on Jason if you would." With that, the Professor closed the mental exchange.

Now alone again, Ororo looked down the hallway Jason had went down. It was bad enough to have to deal with a hurricane this far north, but Ororo had a more foreboding forecast when it came to Jason.

When Jason returned outside, things were already tense. Jason excused himself from his present work assignment to find something to do that didn't involve company. So he contended to cleaning up any gardening equipment he could find. It was plain as day that he was still seething about something, and everyone could tell. Jason made no attempt to hide what his body language was saying, and quite perhaps he meant it to show. At least people would give him his space.

However, there were a few select people that still wanted to help him. One was Piotr, who watched Jason as he helped with the heavy lifting. They hadn't spoken since earlier that morning when Jason first got up. Piotr wanted to help Jason, but Jason wouldn't accept any help right now. He was just too angry and wrapped up inside himself to see.

"Piotr?"

Piotr shook out of his thoughts and saw Jean walking up to him. "What is it?"

"I need some help with some of the patio tables. I can't carry them all myself with my powers."

"Oh," Piotr looked at the modest amount of deck furniture. "All right."

Jean saw the despondency in Piotr's eyes. "Concerned about Jason?"

Piotr looked at Jean, his brow sinking slightly. "Did you read my mind?"

Jean shook her head. "I didn't have to. Your eyes told me everything."

Piotr sighed, while Jean relaxed. Piotr did not like having his mind being infiltrated as he put it, and staunchly resisted any offer by the Professor when Piotr was in his own depths of despair. In some ways, Piotr was a lot like Jason when it came to stubbornness. Finally, Piotr spoke. "I do not understand why Jason does not want to talk about last night and why he is so angry about it."

Jean sighed herself. "I don't know myself either, Piotr, and I won't dig in to see. The Professor knows what happened last night, and perhaps Storm, but until Jason is up to sharing, we'll just have to let him be."

Piotr looked down sadly. "I cannot stand letting him be like that."

"Neither can we, Piotr, but what can we do if Jason won't allow us to help?"

Piotr didn't have an answer for that, yet it didn't help his own heartache anyway. "I-I cannot just sit by like this! What am I supposed to do?"

Jean smiled a bit. "Be there for him."

That simple answer surprised Piotr. "What do you mean?"

"Remember back at the hospital, when you finally opened up to Jason about what you've been dealing with?"

"Yes?" Piotr replied.

"You confided him with your darkest secrets because you saw something in him to relate your problems with. Even though Jason was a complete stranger, he willingly became your friend right there and then and was there for you."

Piotr remembered that clear as day. "I remember that…but what does this have to do with right now?"

"Right now, the tables are turned. Eventually, Jason will have to confide in someone with his own problem, just like you did with him. Can you do the same?"

Piotr looked a little insulted. "Of course I can! That's what I have been trying to do!"

Jean further explained. "Perhaps you should stop trying, and just do it."

That confused Piotr even more. "I do not understand."

Jean tried not to laugh at Piotr's confusion. "It's simple really. Instead of trying to get it out of him, just step back and let him come to you when he's ready."

Piotr let those words go through his head as his brain slowly digested them. Was it really that simple?

When Piotr made no response for a while, Jean merely added. "It's the same thing we did for you when you were feeling really down those several months ago, Piotr. We just stepped back and waited for you to be ready. Turns out, you needed more than just time…you needed the right person to talk to…and it wasn't any of us. It was him."

Piotr looked at Jason, who was still noisily scooping up gardening tools and tossing them into a wheelbarrow. That was true; there was something about Jason that made him open up, but he hadn't figured it out yet. He hoped to have that answer soon enough. "So, is that what I need to do then?"

"I'd say that's the best thing you can do."

Piotr sighed. "All right, I will try."

Jean smiled. "You're off to a good start. Now, how about those tables?"

Piotr smiled a bit, but that smile faded when he looked at Jason again. Sighing to himself, he turned away and transformed into his steel-self and lifted up a table with ease. If only this stepping-back thing was this easy…

Before many of them were aware, the noon-day sun beckoned all of them to go indoors to fill their bellies before launching back again into their work. Just like breakfast, the kitchen was abuzz as the students and the rest assembled their respective lunches. The mood was more or less shared by everyone: all were a little tired, but their energy was still boosting. Despite all the work they had done today, the instructors marveled at just how much energy the students kept inside, particularly the New Mutants.

In one corner of the kitchen, Bobby and Tabitha were once again scheming about the upcoming lock-in as it were. "So, I managed to get Kitty in on this, and she is so up for it," Bobby said quietly.

"I told you she would!" Tabitha replied the same way. "I managed to spread the word to Amara and Jubilee as well. But I have to know, what did Kitty say?"

"She said she has an idea how we can get the Professor to allow it. Think we should ask Kurt?"

"It would be a crime to not let little blue wonder boy in on it! Leave him to me."

"Cool," Bobby said. "This could be the coolest hurricane party ever!"

"Shh! Keep it down!" Tabitha hissed. "You don't want the humdrum police ruining it all."

Bobby instantly lowered his voice. "What exactly should we do, anyway?"

"Well, duh! We need music, food and games!"

"I know that, but what exactly should we have?"

"We should get Kitty in on this planning part. I don't care what we have, but as long as it's fun, I'll be rockin'!"

"Good idea."

They were interrupted as the door to the kitchen opened, permitting entry to a sullen and sweaty Jason. He didn't give anyone the grace of a look and headed straight for the cupboards. Both Bobby and Tabitha watched as Jason reached for white bread, peanut butter and grape jelly and briskly assembled a meager sandwich.

"Wow, he's all serious business with that," Tabitha said quietly.

"I know," Bobby said. "It's like he thinks it's a school assignment."

"Or a mission," Tabitha said. "Stinks he's so pissy today; that glare and that sweat make him so hot."

"No comment," Bobby replied.

Both stifled their shared laughter, so as not to attract the oblivious Jason. As soon as he was done, he reached into a bag of potato chips and dumped a few into his plate. He then reached robotically into the fridge, pulled out a soda, and then promptly left the room, not looking at anyone.

"Whew," Bobby said. "If he was any madder, I might have melted." Bobby drank some water down as he looked at the door Jason left through.

"Looks like even the good boy can be bad."

Bobby nearly choked on his water at that, but managed to get it down the right tube. "Dude, he could use a party."

"Tell me about it," Tabitha said. "We really need to make it a good one and make him shake out Gloomy Grumpy…or make him shake that thing. I haven't decided yet."

Bobby finally let himself laugh. "You're terrible."

Tabitha leaned back. "Oh, I know. Now quick, let's go find Kitty and get this thing rollin'."

Upon leaving the kitchen, Jason went straight to his room. He knew that if he stayed in the kitchen, his pent-up anger would find some kind on an outlet. So, for the safety of everyone at the mansion, he retreated to solitude. He knew that he was already the center of attention in that kitchen, so he made it fast.

He had hoped by being alone from the rest of his peers, he'd finally have a chance to cool off and deal with what was bugging him. The idea of a storm coming rattled him, but it never did before…at least not before the accident. The therapist he went to during the summer as a part of his recovery had noticed Jason's antsy behavior when even a jet-plane roared overhead. While it wasn't bad enough to send him running for the hills, Jason's eyes always shot skyward when the noise happened. Along with a prognosis of Charcot's Syndrome, Jason was also diagnosed with post-traumatic stress disorder or "PTSD" for short. Jason was familiar with that disorder, but only third-hand when he heard soldier's testimonies when they had returned from war. When he himself was diagnosed with it, it was a whole different experience. It hit him almost as hard as being given the prognosis of Charcot's Syndrome, a multiple sclerotic disorder that resembled Lou Gehrig's disease, albeit with usually longer survival times.

When Jason finally pieced together the meaning of the diagnosis back when, he saw that he shouldn't really be surprised. Ever since the traumatic incident that nearly took his life as well as his father's, any thunderstorm or even a noise resembling thunder brought a déjà-vu-like feeling that caused him to be jumpy, swinging from timidity to agitation quickly…just like today, and he knew why: Hurricane Irene.

Jason sighed crossly to himself, glaring at the meager feast on his lap as if the coming storm was its fault. Ever since he heard about the incoming hurricane from the Professor after his session with Logan, Jason had been cross since then, but not as bad as it was today. He even snapped at Piotr, his best friend, and he didn't properly apologize for it. At first, he began to wonder if he should find Piotr and do it properly, but was distracted by his original thought. Why was he so aggravated today? Granted, there was the hurricane and his PTSD, but there was something wrong with this picture. He didn't remember being his antsy even back home when a thunderstorm rolled through; what's different about this time? Maybe last night had something to do with it. He clutched at his aching heart as he thought about last night; all day so far it ached, as if it beat harder than it ever had before, and now it wanted to rest. He could barely remember last night. All he could remember was sitting in front of the Professor and then asking him to let things lie. He didn't think he would ever eat those words, as now he wondered more than ever what set him off today. Now that he thought about it, he didn't want to know about last night at the same time. What if it was so bad that it really should stay buried? Was the reward from digging last night's events back up really worth the risk?

As he was lost in himself, he didn't notice Piotr standing in the doorway of the room, watching him. Piotr had just arrived to the room and had noticed Jason sitting on his own bed, food in lap, but not moving to eat any of it. Piotr wanted to see if Jason was all right, but remembered the conversation he had with Jean earlier regarding Jason. Add that to the fact he needed to get into the room to get some work gloves, this was about to get very awkward. Well, best thing to do right now was the chip away at the ice for now. Piotr cleared his throat.

Jason, startled, looked up to see Piotr. "Oh, geez, how long were you standing there!" Jason said, rather perturbed.

Piotr wilted a bit. "Not long. I just came to get work gloves."

Jason began to relax. "Oh, sorry."

Piotr wordlessly but awkwardly made his way to the room and began digging in his drawers. Jason watched him search but at the same time not really seeing him as his mind was elsewhere. The silence thickened the atmosphere in the room, but neither spoke. There was an elephant in the room, they both knew, but both were reluctant to address its existence. Piotr knew Jason was very reluctant to talk about last night, and Jean advised against him offering to talk about it…but maybe he could at least show that he was willing to listen when Jason was ready. Piotr peered over his shoulder to see Jason had made no move to eat his lunch, despite the fact it hovered inches beneath his nose. Automatically, Piotr asked, "Are you not going to eat, Jason?"

Jason didn't move much as he replied with a sigh. "I thought I was…but I guess I lost my appetite."

Piotr turned around to face Jason. "Are you feeling ill?"

"No, it's not that." Jason put the plate on the bed as he stood up. "It's just my mind is so full of stuff that I can't get a bite in edgewise."

Piotr decided to take the chance. "Do you need to talk about anything?"

Jason sat down again, but on Piotr's bed this time, closer to his friend. "I wouldn't even know where to begin."

Piotr instantly forgot about the work gloves and sat down on the bed beside Jason. "Is your heart still hurting?"

Jason glanced downwards at his chest, and automatically started rubbing it with his hand. "Kind of. It doesn't really hurt; it just aches. I've never felt this kind of pain before…or at least not on my heart."

Piotr remembered that Jean had checked Jason's pulse the previous night when Jason first woke up from what everyone else called a night terror. "I remember Jean checking your heartbeat last night, and she said it was beating hard and fast."

"Feels like it did," Jason said, trying to manage a smile. Then he made a strange face as if considering something.

Piotr noticed. "Jason?"

"It's okay…" Jason replied automatically, but then sighed. "What happened last night?"

Piotr blinked, surprised. "You do not remember?"

"To be honest, it's a bit of a blur. All I remember is talking to the Professor."

"But nothing else?"

"Nothing solid."

Piotr looked away for a second before answering. "Are you sure?"

It was Jason's turn to look away. He didn't speak for a while and Piotr waited patiently. Finally, Jason managed to say, "No…not really."

Piotr held his tongue and waited more as he watched Jason try to decide.

Jason continued. "…I'm a little scared to know."

Piotr had to ask. "Scared of what?"

Jason was about to open his mouth to answer when a knock at the door interrupted them. Both jumped at the noise. Jason's face twisted with annoyance. "Oh for the love of—," he hissed, and then asked louder. "Who is it?"

"Kitty! Can I come in?"

Jason and Piotr looked at each other, sharing a look of puzzlement. "Ok, come on in," Jason finally said.

Kitty didn't bother opening the door and just phased right through it. She took one look at Piotr and Jason and lit up. "Oh, awesome! Both of you are here! That totally makes this easier."

"Makes what easier?" Jason asked.

"I just need to know. Which pop and chips do both of you like?"

Jason's brow fell over his eyes in pure confusion. "What?"

Even Piotr was confused. "Why are you asking us that?"

"It's for the party!"

Piotr was now even more confused. "Party?"

Jason didn't move any, but his eyes cast a glint of agitation. "What…party?"

Kitty seemed completely oblivious to Jason. "Oh, you know, since for the next couple of days we'll like be cooped up in the Institute and we'll totally go crazy unless we do something! So we're throwing a hurricane party! Isn't that like the coolest idea ever?"

Piotr was now really confused. "A hurricane party?"

Jason's reaction was more pronounced. "A hurricane party!" he roared angrily. "What kind of bullshit is that!"

Kitty and Piotr were taken aback at the explosion of fury from Jason. Now it was Kitty turned to be confused. "What's the matter?"

Jason looked incredulously angry. "'What's the matter,' she says. You're throwing a party in the middle of a hurricane! What do you think the matter is?"

Kitty could only sputter.

"What is it about the coming of a hurricane that makes you break out the cake? Is it the wind? The houses flying apart or washing away? Or is it the people who drown out in the ocean when they are caught outside in a storm surge!"

"Jason!" Piotr said admonished, but Jason ignored him.

Kitty eyes narrowed angrily. "Like that's what you think this is? It's just a party, Jason! What's your problem?"

Jason looked about ready to have a stroke. "My problem? I think you 'like' have the problem!" Jason pointed at the boorish scar on his face. "Do you see this scar? What do you think I got this from, a train wreck? I suggest you forget this crazy idea, Kitty! The Professor wouldn't allow such a stupid party, and to be perfectly frank, I'm not going to cry a single tear to see that party squashed!"

Piotr tried again. "Jason, please!" But Jason again ignored him.

Kitty crossed her arms. "Well, you are so wrong, mister! He said as long as we keep it calm, we can have it!"

Jason did not respond right away, but that pause spoke volumes. Jason flushed nearly instantly with raw fury. "What…did you say?" he asked quietly.

"He said we can have it as long as we're calm about it! We'll have food and some games, that's all! Nothing loud or messy, so you don't have to raise such a big fuss about it, Jason!"

Jason finally had enough. "Is everyone completely FUBAR around here? Am I the only one who at least has the respect to not joke around while people die out there!"

"We're just trying to have some fu—" Kitty shouted back, but Jason cut her off.

"Kitty, you can just take your stupid little party and shove it up…" Jason cut himself off, as if he wanted to say something, but couldn't muster up the courage to say it. Finally, he blurted out, "Damn it all! You pissed me off so much, I can't even say what I want to say!" He then yelled. "I've had enough of this!" With that, he marched right by, threw open the door and left a dumbfounded Piotr and a flustered Kitty behind.

Jason marched straight towards the elevator that led to the lower levels, hoping to use the Danger Room to smash some things. He was so angry that he didn't even notice Jean standing near the door to his room, having heard the noise and had come to investigate. "Jason!" Jean called to him. "What's wrong?"

That question. That one stupid little question nearly made Jason burst like an overripe tomato. He spun right around with a near murderous glint in his eye and shouted. "With all due respect, Jean, SHUT UP!" With that, he stormed away again. Reaching the elevator, he decided against it and took the stairwell nearby, slamming the door behind him.

Jean willed herself to stay calm, and looked into see Kitty and Piotr, all sharing stupefied looks at seeing Jason's outburst. But before she could ask, Scott, also having heard the noise, came up from behind Jean. "What the hell's going on up here? I could hear that from the parlor."

Kitty answered angrily. "You tell me! I was just asking Jason about some stuff and he totally flipped out!"

"I do not understand," Piotr said, looking shocked. "Why did he get so angry?"

Jean spoke up. "One at a time. Kitty, what did you ask him?"

"I was just asking him what kind of chips and drink he would like to have at the party but—"

Scott cut her off. "Wait a second. What party?"

"Oh, I was going to ask you guys next. See, Kurt, Tabitha, Bobby and I are organizing a hurricane party so we could not just totally sit around in here since we can't do anything out there because of the hurricane. The Professor said it was ok as long as we kept it calm, so I thought we could have some food, some music and some games, that's all!"

Scott and Jean looked at each other briefly. "Sounds all right and all," Scott said, although he was a little uncomfortable with the feeling of a party during a hurricane for his own reasons. "So, what went wrong?"

"That's just it, I don't know! As soon as I said it was going to be a party, he just flipped out! He kept saying stuff about houses being destroyed and people dying and that I should feel bad for throwing a party when that stuff happens! I mean, totally, what's up with that? I like don't mean to be disrespectful, but that stuff happens all the time on the other side of the world! What's his problem?"

Scott had to process all the stuff Kitty said before he could answer. Kitty had a mad ability to say a terrible amount of stuff quickly, and it was easy to miss something if one wasn't paying attention. "Ok, I think I missed something."

"I think I know," Jean said suddenly.

"You do?" Kitty and Piotr said at once. Kitty continued. "Did you like totally read his mind?"

Jean looked affronted. "I wouldn't snoop like that unless I didn't have the choice, Kitty."

"Oh, really?" Scott thought, trying not to smile.

"Be quiet, Scott," Jean replied the same way. Aloud, she continued. "Kitty, did you say outright that it was a hurricane party?"

Kitty was confused at that question, but answered. "Yeah, I like said that. Why?"

Jean sighed. "Kitty, Jason has PTSD. That scar on his head came from a tornado."

Kitty didn't make the link. "So?"

"So," Jean reiterated. "Jason is very right about saying how terrible hurricanes are. He's a victim of the most violent windstorm of the planet. He was one who survived where others have died. Do you remember all those tornadoes on the news this year? Hundreds died, and thousands were hurt. A lot of them…are like Jason right now: angry, scared, and appalled at the idea of people celebrating stuff like this."

Kitty began to relax, finally beginning to understand. Piotr as well finally comprehended Jason's outburst. "I-I had no idea…" he said.

"That's sad," Kitty finally said. "But we totally don't mean this party like that!"

"I know you didn't," Jean replied. "But that's how Jason sees it because of what happened to him. He almost lost his father in that same tornado too."

Kitty had forgotten that detail, but Piotr remembered that. Jason's father, Patrick Downs, was now a paraplegic after his spinal cord was severed when the car they were driving when the tornado hit nearly crushed him. Jason never talked about that night, and everyone at the Institute simply referred to it as "the accident."

Piotr finally spoke up. "What do we do now?"

Jean looked out where Jason had stormed out. "Leave him alone. Jason's so mad that he can't think straight. The Professor or Storm will talk to him when they feel it is best, but for now, let's just get back to work so we can at least have a safe place to stay when the hurricane comes."

Kitty and Piotr nodded, and then walked out of the room. Jean lingered for a bit, her thoughts obviously on Jason. Scott picked up on that. "He'll be ok, Red."

"Yeah, I know," Jean said. "Let's go."

With that, they left the room, closing the door behind them.

Jason was so angry that his face was nearly unrecognizable, twisted and tortured by every synonym of rage. Having left behind everyone in his room, he had stormed to the basement levels of the Institute, suiting up and hoping to use the Danger Room to take out his fury. Unfortunately, to start a simulation, he needed a passcode from a member of the X-Men to activate it, and he was not one. This only angered him more and so he locked himself inside and vented, taking out his rage on the walls. He kicked at them and smacked them with his bare hands. Despite knowing he could do far more damage with his mutant ability, it wouldn't satisfy him in the least. Even then, this was not satisfying him. Suddenly, one bad hit made him cry out in pain instead of anger. Grasping one hand, he held it against himself as it quickly changes from red to the most wonderful shade of blue. Looking at it, he sat down against the wall of the Danger Room to nurse his hand, wondering if he broke it.

"A mark of a man is his restraint of his passions," said a voice.

Jason looked up from his bruised hand to see that the Professor had come into the room. Jason didn't even see or hear him come in because of his tirade. Jason's face wrinkled up in irritation. "Yeah? Well, sometimes it just feels so good to give into them once in a while."

"At appropriate times, yes," the Professor said. "Yet it seems you've discovered the consequences of what happens when they go unrestrained for too long."

Jason looked at his hand. Yes, it looked pretty bad, but he was too proud to admit it. "It's just a bruise."

The Professor looked knowingly at Jason. "Jason, I saw how hard you punched that wall. You might have broken your hand."

"It's fine!" Jason said defensively, and even flexed his hand to prove his point…only to grasp it again in pain.

The Professor rolled up beside Jason and took Jason's hand. "All evidence to the contrary." Jason was about to object, but grudgingly relented and let the Professor inspect his hand. "This looks bad, Jason. We should go to the infirmary."

Jason mumbled quietly. "Like you care."

The Professor looked up, having heard it partially. "Do you have something to say to me, Jason?"

Jason looked at the Professor angrily briefly, considering his words. Finally, he ripped his own hand from the Professor's grasp and walked a short distance away. Then, he spoke. "Hurricane party."

The Professor didn't answer and looked at Jason. "Perhaps Kitty's choice of words was unknowingly insensitive."

Jason's eye twitched. "I don't care if she called it a bridge club! Seriously, Professor? A party in the middle of a hurricane?"

"We will be locked in at the Institute for two days at most, Jason. Surely you can understand that all they want to do is keep themselves entertained."

Jason wanted to respond, but he couldn't find the words. Deep down, he knew the Professor was right. There was nothing wrong with keeping oneself amused when cooped up, yet he still couldn't bring himself to admit it.

The Professor knew that he has Jason in a difficult spot, and that he was now wrestling with his pride. To tip the war to his favor, he decided to prod. "You and I both know that the source of your anger is not the fact that there is a so-called hurricane party. You are using it as the excuse to unleash, but the true source is something else."

Jason finally scowled at the Professor. "Finding what you are looking for, Professor?"

The Professor knew what he was referring to. "I didn't have to pry, Jason. I knew that you would be bottling up your emotions after last night after you pleaded to not talk about it. Do you still stand by your decision?"

Jason didn't answer. Only moments ago, he was ready to talk about it with Piotr when Kitty crashed the party, as it were. That ruined any chance of him ever opening up, because right now, he didn't want to talk about anything, least of all with the Professor right now. "As a matter of fact, Professor, I do," he said icily, and then turned to walk away.

The Professor watched him go. "It's a shame, Erik."

Jason stopped in his tracks, and slowly turned around with a strange look on his face. "What did you call me?"

"You merely reminded me of a young man I once knew who wanted to do so much for the world, but let anger poison him so far that his goals were corrupted to become evil. His name was Erik Lehnsherr. When I met him long before you were born, he had amazing power, but I didn't' suspect that under all that was the heart of a tortured child that saw his mother and father die in a prison camp."

"Prison camp?" Jason said. He was so surprised by this turn of events that he nearly forgot to be angry.

"Yes, Erik was one of few survivors from Auschwitz in Poland. His father and mother were executed by the Nazis, and he was only a child, witnessing the lowest humanity has ever fallen."

Jason didn't say anything, but his curiosity soon wedged itself between him and his pride. Jason finally sighed. "No wonder he was so angry."

"His anger is justified, yes, but there is a fine line between justice and revenge, and he didn't see it…and still doesn't. I tried to show him the path that he was walking would lead to nothing but a trail of tears, left by innocents he would harm, intentionally or no…and by himself."

Jason's brow deepened. "And you think that will happen to me?"

"What good can come of holding on to your fury, Jason? Fire left unchecked will not burn itself out until it has destroyed everything close to it. So does rage. It will not stop until it has burned away everything you hold close and dear to you…just as it did to Erik. From what I can see, he can't care for those who are closest to him anymore. All that's left now is someone else entirely. When fire burns at the forest, nothing is left…" The Professor trailed off.

Jason took the bait. "But…?"

"…but sometimes, hope still remains. Are you familiar with the jack pine tree?"

"Can't say that I am."

"It's an unusual tree that grows in the Pacific Northwest. Unlike most pine trees, it will not open its cones when the seeds mature. Often, they stay locked away for years. Only fire or extreme cold can open them. When a fire ravages the forest, the cones finally open up, yet the seeds do not burn because the cones open only partially. When the fire finally dies, the cones open further to allow a forest to be reborn."

Jason was fascinated. He had never heard of such a tree, and its tale was truly inspiring. "Well, what do you know?"

"Indeed. Yet I must wonder: must it take a raging fire to unleash hope?"

Jason remained silent, but his eyes shared the train of thoughts churning through his mind.

"Whatever you glean from this, Jason, I hope that you are happy with the choice you have said you stand on. I often wonder if Erik is." The Professor turned to leave. "I'll ask the students to leave you alone for the time being. What you choose to do with that time alone is up to you." With that, the Professor began to leave.

"Professor?" Jason said.

The Professor stopped, but didn't turn to Jason. "Yes?"

"This man named Erik…," Jason began. "You said he was a mutant too, right?"

"Yes."

"What was his power?"

The Professor didn't say anything briefly. Finally, after a few agonizing seconds, he turned his head to Jason and replied with one word: "Magnetism." And then he left the room.

Jason spun around, only to see the Professor had left. He remained fixed to his spot, lost in thought at that revelation, and it reviled him and shocked him at the same time. The Professor seemed to know just what to say to someone. It happened so often that Jason had to wonder if the Professor wasn't entirely honest about the use of his telepathic powers. Still, whether he used them or not, the Professor did end up being right after all. Jason sighed to himself; he knew what he needed to do now. It was a lot easier to punch the wall again.

After lunch, all the students had returned to preparing the Institute for the hurricane, fueled all the more by a TV report that Governor Cuomo had declared a state of emergency for New York City and the surrounding areas, calling for a mandatory evacuation of all low-lying areas in the region. While the Institute was built on the cliffs overlooking the bay, the urgency of the announcement had many wondering how bad it really was going to be.

Jason had not returned to work and there was a mixed bag of reactions to that. Some were relieved that he was taking a break from them, while others were concerned about him. Most of all, Piotr was confused and concerned. He had never seen Jason so angry before, and it had rattled him. For the last couple weeks, he had seen Jason as a fun-loving but level-headed guy, but today had changed everything. Jason too had a dark side and it was a savage beast that would not take reason. Seeing that had hurt him, but at the same time he berated himself for not realizing how sensitive Jason was about storms. When Jason had stormed out of the room, Piotr sat on his bed for a good long time trying to figure out what happened. He knew he wasn't the brightest of the X-Men, but after listening to Jean reminding Kitty that Jason has PTSD after the tornado, he began to piece together the source of Jason's anger.

Jason had been through the worst that nature had to offer and have barely escaped with his life. Even the hardest man would be forever changed by that, and Jason was a sensitive soul. To him, it had to have been devastating. He didn't understand much about PTSD, but his father had once told him about soldiers with war trauma and Piotr had a hunch they were similar. If he remembered correctly, traumatized people exhibited agitation and paranoia when something provoked the memory of their trauma. In Jason's case, the very idea of a storm as massive as a hurricane brought to mind the haunting image of a tornado bearing down upon him. Jason's response was to lash out irrationally and defensively, as if trying to perhaps wash away the image in his mind by attacking the provocateur. Rationality had nothing to do with it; it was purely instinctual. Leave it to adversity to bring out the beast in anyone. Now, Jason was now isolating himself from anyone, festering in his pride and his anger like a wounded beast. Piotr looked down sadly; Jason had nearly opened up to him only moments before, but as chance would have it, Kitty unwittingly set him off, provoking Jason to shut the gates around his defenses again. Piotr wondered when he would be able to reach him again, and whether Irene's approach would continue to gnaw at Jason.

"You still worried about him?" said a voice.

Piotr looked to see Rogue having stepped beside him, carrying some gardening equipment Jason had neglected to get earlier. Piotr then looked at the Institute. "Yes."

"He'll come around. He's just dealing with a lot on his mind and needs his space."

"Yes, I know…" Piotr replied.

"He's tough. I know that much about him," Rogue said. "Well, we'd better get back to work."

"Rogue…" Piotr said suddenly.

Rogue turned back. "What?"

"When you touched Jason back on the rooftop…" Piotr said. "What did you see?"

Rogue remembered that all too well. Whenever she touched someone, his or her life-force, memories and physical abilities would transfer right into her at an alarming rate. Rogue never tested the extent of her abilities because of how lethal it was. She only used to borrow mutant abilities or to get a foe out of the way for the meantime. It didn't take long of a touch. She had only touched Jason for less than two seconds on the rooftop and it did the trick. Jason was in a coma again for hours, and the memories that were foremost in Jason's mind at that moment had nearly overwhelmed her with how powerful they were. While most of the memories of others she touched often faded over time, along with the respective powers or abilities, this one had stayed. She was surprised she didn't have nightmares over it. Looking at Piotr, she said. "It's not my place to say."

Piotr looked sadly away.

"But I can say this:" Rogue added, her eyes distant in reflection. "He will need someone to listen to when he does want to talk about it."

Piotr smiled slightly, and then thought about something. "Have you thought about asking him?"

Rogue looked at Piotr. "Yeah…but I can't."

This surprised Piotr. "Why not?"

"How can I talk to someone about that? I saw his memories, I felt them too. But he was there. I know he doesn't want to talk about it, because I don't want to talk about it!"

Piotr understood that much. "Yet when he learn you know his memories, he may want to ask you."

Rogue was surprised at the level of certainly Piotr had behind that statement. "How can you be so sure?"

"He asked me about last night because he did not remember. If he knows you know, he want to ask you."

Rogue pondered this for a bit, but answered. "I-I can't."

"I think you can, Rogue. I think you are the only one who can do it now…before it is too late." Piotr looked up to the southern sky, as if seeing something approaching that was invisible to all eyes but his own.

Rogue continued to ponder what Piotr had said. As she thought about it, she really did want to know how Jason handled it. It was almost too much for her to bear; it had to be crushing for Jason to hold it in. Maybe she really should talk to Jason about it. Did she really have the nerve? That was a whole new question, and Rogue knew she didn't have a lot of time to answer it for herself. She left Piotr to work some more, but found that she couldn't concentrate on it. Flashes of Jason's memories etched through her mind, reminding her of what Jason had experienced and had been suppressing. If she herself was having them distract her, who's to say Jason's mind wasn't doing the same? She knew now that she needed to talk to Jason about it…if only to quell the fears she had regarding them. Now, however, was not the time; there was too much to do for Irene's inevitable landfall, and since Jason was not coming back out, they needed all the help they could grab. She would have to ask later.

She hoped she didn't wait too long.

Saturday, August 27th, 2011; 8:02 PM

The previous two days were busy for the Institute, but despite all the labor they had to do, they were able to pull it off in time. Jason had not returned to the workflow the rest of the day on Friday, but helped some earlier on Saturday. He was given all the space he needed, which was fine by him. It gave him time to think, but he couldn't help but feel some of the scrutinizing looks he received. He deserved them, he guessed.

As the day progressed, the winds began to pick up and Jason promptly retreated inside and wasn't seen for the rest of the day. As evening set in, high winds and cooling temperatures heralded the hurricane's approach, and before night set in, a disc of dark cloud slowly made itself visible south of the island. Quickly after that, the winds began to pummel the island and the nearby states of New York and New Jersey.

Hurricane Irene had finally arrived.

But despite the threat, not all feared the meteorological harbinger of destruction. Those who heeded the warnings were now clear of the storm surges that were about to ravage the lowlands. That was no concern of the students at the Xavier Institute for Gifted Children. Inside, there was fun and games as a calm little party to stave off boredom and cabin fever was well underway. The previous day, Bobby, Tabitha and Kitty began scheming to put together a "hurricane party," and had gotten clearance to put something together by the Professor, providing it was nothing more than friendly past times and nothing obnoxious. So, as soon as some of the students got away from hurricane preparations, they took off to the city to get ready for the party. Now, there was a slight disagreement on just how to make a party tame enough for the Professor's request, when they suddenly came upon the same idea: horror movie night. The next dilemma: which movies to choose from. All of them knew that finding a truly scary movie amongst so-called horrors took a bit of knowledge…and a bit of luck. Thankfully, Bobby was a horror-movie nerd, and knew exactly what to look for.

So, as the winds began to roar outside, the locked-in students began clamoring around the couch as Bobby got the first movie ready: The Ring. When the older students got wind of what the party would become, reservations were put aside. Scott reserved a spot for Jean, who was not slow on joining her best friend on the couch, with a bowl of popcorn.

"You know, I thought this party was a bad idea when I first heard it," Scott said.

"Just shows that sometimes it's good just to kick back once in a while and just enjoy the day," Jean cooed.

"Hey, I know how to have a good time!" Scott protested.

"Only after we hogtie you down and demand you take a break," Kurt jeered, bringing in another bowl of popcorn.

"Very funny, 'fuzzy one,'" Scott quipped.

"Shh, the movie's about to get started!" Bobby hissed, taking his spot in a beanbag on the floor.

All the others stopped murmuring their respective conversations and sat down as the previews began playing. Bobby reached for the remote to skip the previews, a voice interrupted him. "Has anyone seen Jason?"

Scott looked to see Piotr behind them, a confused look on his face. "No, can't say I have."

Bobby added. "No one has seen the Grinch since earlier today, big guy."

Piotr looked shocked at the insult, while Jean admonishingly responded, "Bobby!"

"Sorry," Bobby apologized. "I'm just saying what everyone else is thinking."

Jean couldn't fault Bobby on those feelings, but seeing Piotr looking hurt at those accusations against his best friend, she knew she had to say something. "It doesn't excuse it, Bobby. Jason is having a really tough time right now, and we need to understand his feelings." Bobby didn't reply, but Jean could see the others' faces showed that they knew, but at the same time, Jason did not make it easy these last couple days. Jean added. "I know Jason has been really hard on us, especially since he caught wind of the party, but we just need to respect his feelings and give him the space he needs."

None answered, but Scott did bring up. "Speaking of space, I don't think we've really answered Piotr's question."

"Hold on," Jean thought. Closing her eyes, she concentrated as her telepathic mind searched the inside of the Institute for any sign of Jason. Quickly, she got a hit. Jason was located in the storage rooms outside the Danger Room. Apparently, he had taken his blankets and pillows from his room and settled down in the room. "He's in the lower levels. I'm guessing he's trying to get away from the noise outside."

"I didn't know he was scared of storms," Bobby said, a little disdainfully.

Jean's chestnut eyebrows fell over her eyes in annoyance. "If you understood why he is, you wouldn't blame him."

Scott headed things off, foreseeing a fallout building. "I think we can talk about that another time. Let's not ruin the night for everyone."

Jean sighed. "Yeah, you're right."

Bobby too relented. "Yeah."

Piotr was silent, and as the movie began to play its opening scenes, he turned and left, his mind leaving him and searching the lower reaches of the Institute for Jason, wondering what he was doing or thinking.

In the darkness of the Danger Room hallways, Jason wrapped himself in a thick blanket as he searched for solace in the silence the darkness appeared to promise. Despite the peace here, he was still conscious about the violence nature was wreaking on the world outside, and it kept him on edge. He had been down here for hours, not even going up for food. His stomach growled but the kitchen had a large window that would doubtlessly display the destruction nature was dealing at the present. He couldn't bear to even think about the storm, even though it was at the forefront of his mind.

He was mildly surprised that no one came down to look for him. After all, they had to know where he was, at least the Professor and Jean. Jason looked down sadly as he wrapped the blanket tighter around himself. The last time he had even conversed with any of the others, he blew up in front of Kitty and Piotr, and after the lecture from the Professor soon after in the Danger Room, Jason had been very down. Ever since then, he isolated himself from the others. Last night was rough in itself: Jason had gone to bed early but was still awake when Piotr himself turned in. Neither spoke, but the silence had spoken volumes to both of them. Piotr was somewhat intimidated to speak to Jason, and Jason was too hurt to speak to him. So, silence reigned that night, and Jason didn't know a time he felt lower than he did that night. He was on the verge of crying himself to sleep, but sleep took him before that happened.

The next day had been more of the same, only Jason's heart was not in it. He worked alone, slowly but deliberately, as if forcing himself to do it. He quit after lunch and disappeared from wandering eyes. He had gone to his room, retrieved a couple blankets and pillows, in addition to a flashlight, and took off for a storage room he knew was empty. Ever since then, he had been here, wallowing in depression and self-pity. Part of him was blaming himself for being such a jerk to the others and not apologizing for it presently, yet at the same time, another small part of him would not allow him to apologize for what he did. It made excuses that they would never understand, or were too absorbed in having fun they wouldn't understand. At once, another part would chastise his pride saying that Piotr would never be like that. The thought of how he treated Piotr silenced Jason's mind instantly. It was bad enough that he blew up in front of his friends, but blew off the closest thing he had to a best friend that he could remember. The depression hit him anew. How could he have done that to him? Piotr hadn't deserved that at all; he had been through enough crap in his life that he didn't need a cowardly brainsick kid lashing out at him. But what was he supposed to do now? If last night was any indication, Piotr might not even want to talk to him. Jason knew he needed to apologize, but if Piotr wouldn't hear him out because of how Jason treated him, how could he?

Jason sighed to himself. "I royally screwed up this time, didn't I?" he thought.

He half-expected Jean or the Professor to reply to his thoughts, but he met only silence in the mental realm of existence. Seems like the Professor made good on his promise that he would be left alone. Alone he was…very alone. Jason looked at the darkness around him. It promised him solitude, and it gave him just that, and now…he didn't want to be alone anymore.

A knock on the door startled him, interrupting his gloomy thoughts. "Who's there?"

"It's just me!" said a voice.

Jason recognized it. "Rogue?"

"Yeah, mind unlocking the door?"

Jason was surprised: of all the people of the Institute to check up on him, it was the "recluse" of the mansion that came to visit him? Huh, maybe what they said was right: misery does love company. "Ok, hold on a sec." Jason stood up, turned on his flashlight and made his way to the door, fumbling over the blanket once or twice. Soon enough, he unlocked the door and opened it. Blinking in the light, he saw Rogue standing just without. "What are you doing here?" Jason asked.

Rogue brushed her white locks of hair from her eyes. "I just thought I'd check on you. No one's seen you since you left this afternoon."

"You know why, right?" Jason said wearily.

"Yeah…" Rogue shrugged. "…but when you didn't show up for supper, we began to wonder." Rogue then held up a plate of beef jerky, summer sausage and salt crackers. "I know it ain't much…but it's something."

Jason's stomach growled instantly at seeing the snack food, and he had to swallow.

"Mind if I come in?" Rogue asked.

Jason's eyes didn't leave the dish. "Yeah, ok." Jason slid the door open more to let Rogue in. Jason and Rogue walked towards where Jason had dropped his blankets and Jason and Rogue sat down against the wall. Rogue handed Jason the dish and he dug in. He never thought beef jerky or summer sausage would taste so good. After a minute of devouring, Jason noticed that Rogue didn't say a word. Jason swallowed his latest bite and choked out, "Thanks, Rogue."

"Anytime."

"I thought you'd be upstairs with the others at the…well…you know."

"Nah," Rogue said. "Horror movies are nice an all, but it's too crowded up there for me."

Jason only sighed. "Well, thanks for coming down anyway."

Rogue managed a small smile. "Looks like it was a good idea to bring food too."

"Yeah," Jason said, about to take another bite, when guiltily he looked at the plate. He had eaten half of it already and gave nothing to Rogue. He looked at Rogue, and made to pass the plate to her.

"Hey, don't worry about it. I already ate. Besides, I mainly brought it for you."

Now Jason managed a small smile. "Then I guess I have two things to thank you for." Jason obliged himself to more summer sausage. "But I have a hunch you're here for more than just giving me food."

Rogue looked away briefly, and that was more than enough for Jason, yet he held his tongue.

Finally, Rogue spoke up. "I know what you are going through, Jason."

Jason nearly choked at those words, and he had to swallow before answering. "How would you know that?"

"Because I can see what happened to you in my mind, as clear as day. And you have every right to be terrified by it."

Jason paled. The rational side of his mind tried to explain it, but failed. Rogue was no telepath. "H-how would you know that?"

"You know how my powers work, right?"

Jason's mind worked again. "Yeah. Whenever your skin touches the skin of another, you drain them of their life force, right?"

"Yeah, but there's more to it than that." Rogue reached for one of her gloves and pulled it off, showing her pale skin underneath. "If I were to touch you right now, your life force, your memories, and your special abilities would flow right into me, and you might end up in a coma."

"My memories and my special abilities?" Jason asked, eyes widening.

"Uh-huh, and that's how I know what you are going through."

Jason looked at Rogue strangely, when his mind suddenly brought up a fact: he had no memory of being touched by Rogue. "What a minute, when did you do that? I would think I would remember that."

Rogue looked at Jason closely. "You don't remember?"

One of Jason's eyebrows shot up. "Remember what?"

Rogue looked away, considering her words. "It was the night we—the X-Men—first met you. That night, you were attacked."

"Attacked?" Jason processed aloud. "By who—" Then it hit Jason like the tornado had. "You were there?"

"Yes, but not until the end. When we arrived, you had…gone crazy."

Jason's brow deepened. While that night haunted him, the end of that experience was a blank to him. All he remembered after escaping Deathstrike was a storm coming in, and then he blacked out. He couldn't remember anything—save this sensation of loving arms—between the storm and him regaining consciousness back in the hospital. "I…I don't remember that."

"Well, I do." Rogue looked at Jason. "Your powers went crazy and we had to try to calm you down before you destroyed the whole hospital. There was only one way for us to calm you down: I needed to drain off some of your powers so you could settle down. Peter distracted you enough so I could."

"Peter did?" Jason asked. "What did he do?"

Rogue brushed her white locks away from her eyes again. "All he did was hug you, but it did the trick. All I did from there was touch your shoulder and drain you a bit."

Jason looked away a bit, barely hearing the last part of Rogue's narration as his mind left the room they sat in. The sensation he felt in his memories. He thought they were his father's arms, hugging him as a kid. "Those were Peter's arms?"

"Jason?"

Jason's mind snapped back to reality. "Oh, sorry. Guess I zoned out for a sec. So, you had to drain me?"

"Yeah, and when I did…I saw that night…the one you never talk about."

Jason's mind froze briefly. That one night that changed his life forever, that one horrific night. He had tried to lock it away forever inside his head to forget it, but a night like that never forgets the people who experienced it. Sometimes when he was on the verge of falling asleep, he could still hear himself crying for Dad to wake up. Jason looked at Rogue. "What did you see?"

Rogue's eyes widened slightly as those four words processed through her mind. It wasn't a question of doubt, but of yearning. Jason really wanted to know. At the same time, however, the images she had gotten from Jason had shaken her at the time. It was amazing she didn't have nightmares about it in the days after she had touched Jason, possibly even miraculous. Ever since then, the images decayed to a simple thought that would only pop up if something reminded her of them. "I don't know where to start, really. Some are a little blurry now, but one remains clear."

Jason both craved and dreaded the answer to his next question. "And which image is that one?"

Rogue's expression turned sad. "Holding onto your father as the car is thrown around."

Jason paled instantly, falling back against the wall. Rogue instantly was on alert. "Jason, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have told you."

Jason took some slow breaths, and the color began to return to his face. "That's what I get for asking."

"Are you ok?"

"Yeah…" Jason said. "It's just…I never expected someone else to really see..." Jason swallowed. "…it. And I mean actually see it." Jason tilted his head a bit.

"You don't think the Professor saw it when he looked in your head a couple nights ago?"

Jason straightened up a bit and looked at Rogue. "You know, I barely even remember that night."

Rogue leaned back. "You were pretty out of it that night."

"Yeah, I guess I was." Jason looked at Rogue. "Have you ever talked about that with anyone?"

Rogue shook her head. "You're the first."

That surprised Jason. "Why?"

"Why haven't you?"

Jason didn't expect the rebuttal of his own question, and his brain froze briefly as a result. Looking away, he finally breathed out. "How can I? Who would understand that kind of pain?" Jason blinked hard in the darkness.

Rogue took Jason's hand into a gloved one. "I can try…and so can the rest of us."

Jason looked up at Rogue, and in the dim light, Rogue thought she saw more light reflect off Jason's eyes than usual. Jason then sighed and shut his eyes tightly. "It's just so hard…to face it all over again. I couldn't even talk about it with the Professor and Storm a couple nights ago. Like a coward, I asked them to forget about it because I didn't want to talk about it…because I never want to talk about."

Rogue could understand why. Seeing it herself on that rooftop that night, she understood completely.

"But…at the same time…I don't want to face it all alone. I wasn't alone when it happened, but I almost was. Being alone terrifies me almost as bad as the storm outside does. Did you know that one of the excuses I had for not coming here to the Institute was because I would be alone with my fear? My dad was the only other one who's been through what I've been through, and he was not traumatized by it. Whenever it stormed at home, I could always count on him to be there to talk to me while I hid in the basement. He didn't have to come down to make sure I was fine, and being a cripple, he shouldn't have had to…but he did. It was for that reason why my parents invested in one of those sliding-lift things you see on TV.

"Coming here was terrifying, because at the back of my mind I knew that if a storm came here, my dad wasn't going to be here. I would be completely alone." Jason made a funny noise like a stifled laugh. "And I'm only here for two weeks and not only a storm comes, but a damned hurricane. Go figure. Ever since I heard it was coming, I couldn't stand every second that ticked down to its arrival. I know it's not a very strong hurricane, but it didn't matter to me. It could have been just a simple thunderstorm or Katrina all over again; it didn't matter. My dad isn't here and here I am, in the basement…all alone." Jason let his head fall. "I don't want to be alone."

Rogue squeezed her hand tighter around Jason. "You ain't alone, Jason."

That was too much for Jason; tears streamed down his face and his throat emitted sobs as he let all the bottled up emotions inside of him go at that reassurance. Rogue picked up the blanket and put it around Jason, who didn't move in response. Rogue sat closer to Jason, and almost at once, Jason leaned against Rogue. Rogue's mind froze. This was the closest someone ever came to her ever since her powers manifested, and she had no idea what to do. Granted, she knew she couldn't touch Jason with her bare skin for obvious reasons, but it seemed Jason had forgotten about that and was so desperate for comfort that he reached out to the "untouchable."

That touched Rogue deep down. She leaned in carefully, the blanket ever between her and Jason. As she did, she felt that same melancholy feeling that came along when she just wanted to get close to someone without having to worry about draining him. She mentally shoved it aside as Jason's tears dissolved into quiet sighs. They both had hopes for the future: Jason hoped to find someone he could find someone to share his burdens with, and Rogue hoped that one day she could find a way to be with someone and never fear for hurting him. But for now, they just had to weather the current circumstances.

Suddenly, the lights went out completely, causing both of them to gasp. A few breathless seconds passed before Jason finally sighed. "I really hate storms."

"I'm really beginning to hate them too," Rogue said. "This reminds me of when I went through Katrina."

Despite being unable to see, Jason looked towards Rogue. "You lived through Katrina?"

"Yep. That wasn't fun."

"Were you in New Orleans?"

"Nah, I came from Caldecott, Mississippi, not too far from Jackson. Sure, we didn't get hammered like New Orleans or Biloxi, but it was pretty damn scary."

"I bet. Were you at home."

"Yep, just me and Irene."

"Irene?"

"Yeah, my guardian. I never knew my mom and dad. Irene never pretended to be my real mom…but she was good as one."

Jason blinked in the darkness. "I never knew."

"It's all right, it wasn't important."

"Well, it's not just that. I'm adopted, myself, you know."

"Really?"

"Yeah, and I never knew my real parents either. My parents told me I was adopted as a very young baby, six weeks old if I remember right." Despite no one could see it, Jason smiled. "What are the odds? Two 'orphan' mutants in the basement, having survived storms and now hiding from one? If I wasn't too scared by the storm, I'd laugh."

Rogue managed to smile herself. "Yeah, it is pretty crazy."

"Well, it's like Scott told me a week ago: crazy is the norm around here."

"Yeah, I guess it is."

"So…" Jason began. "What should we do now?"

"I don't know…"

Jason didn't say anything for a little bit, when an idea came to him. "What was Irene like? I mean, as a mother?"

Rogue considered the question briefly, and then began to describe Irene while Jason listened interestedly. Neither of them realized that bonds of a new friendship were now forming between them. Despite the raging storm outside, something beautiful was now blooming, safe from the rage of nature.

"The flames grew hotter and hotter and hotter! He ran as fast as he could from them, turning left and right when he could…until there was nowhere left to run."

Sam held a flashlight to his face, illuminating the features of his face in an eerie light as he retold a terrifying story of a man who could not escape a raging fire. He was one of several forming a ring in the lounge room, combating the raging storm with ghost stories, now that the storm had knocked out power, ruining the movie night. Everyone else in the ring was captivated by the story and barely blinked in the darkness.

"He tried to claw his way out of the cabin, but it was too late. The fire claimed him, and his screams seemed to split the sky as the fires turned him to ashes. The town didn't care; the stranger was gone from them and they returned to life, but it was not the end of the stranger. One night, in the fireplace of the mayor's house, he was tending to the fire when the face of the stranger rose from the ashes, flickering like the flames that burned him. He cried out in a raspy voice, 'Vengeance,' and then the fireplace exploded. The mayor burned to death, and the house burned down around him. One by one, each of the townsfolk saw the face of the stranger in their fireplaces or campfires, and then died as the stranger burned them to death.

"The town was burned to ashes, and was never rebuilt in fear of seeing the stranger in the flames. But he too was gone, just like the town he took with him to hell. They say the ashes are still there to this day, and that no one camps anywhere within sight of the ashes, because if they do, they will see the face of the stranger in the flames. And when they do, they will burn and die…just like the town that killed him. But they also say at night, the ashes still burn like the fire that killed the stranger. In those flames, the stranger walks back and forth, wanting more souls to drag to hell. If he sees you, you…are…dead…"

The group shivered as Sam finished his story. Kitty broke out with a smile. "This was like the best idea ever!"

"Who said you needed a campfire to tell ghost stories?" Bobby said.

"Man, that last one was so scary, I think my fur is still standing up on end!" Kurt cut in.

"So…" Tabitha said. "Who's next?"

No one stepped forward, as it were, to share the next terrifying tale for the party.

Tabitha pressed on. "Oh, I'm going to have to pick someone, am I? Let's see…"

"Where is everybody?" said a voice from the darkness.

Everyone in the circle jumped in their seats, startled at hearing the voice. Flashlights flicked on and pointed whence the voice came, revealing the blinking forms of Rogue and Jason, freshly returned from the basement after clambering down halls and up stairwells. Despite having a flashlight, the journey up was hampered by Jason's insistence he bring a blanket up with them.

Jason covered his eyes with a part of the blanket. "Agh, can't you point those somewhere else?"

"It's just us!" Rogue exclaimed. As the lights lowered from their eyes, Rogue looked at everyone. "What the hell are you doing?"

"Ghost stories," Bobby said.

Jason lowered the blanket from his eyes. "I see it's been effective." Jason looked around at the flashlight-illuminated crowd, trying to ignore the rumbling outside. Everyone merely stared wordlessly at Jason, but Jason could read the damage he had wrought with his actions in the last few days. He sighed, and then shared, "Yeah, I know what you guys are thinking…and you're right. I've been an absolute jerk the last couple days." Jason paused briefly; so far so good. "You guys just have to understand that storms and I don't get along very well, and that the thought of a party…" Jason pursed his lips, as if the thought of a hurricane party still reviled him. "…just didn't sit well with me because of what happened to me. But…that doesn't excuse anything. I should have not lashed out at you guys like I have. You guys were just trying to have some fun while I was being a triple-A jerk."

Kurt decided to interrupt. "Well, I would say triple-A. Double-A, maybe…"

Jason smiled, accepting the friendly jab. "Thanks, Kurt." Then he sobered up. "Anyway, what I'm trying to get at is…I'm sorry." Jason's eyes wondered, and then locked on to Piotr, who had been sitting quietly in the group. Jason's gaze didn't break as he continued, "I know that doesn't mean a lot, but I hope I can make it up to you guys somehow."

The others looked at each other. Piotr looked down slightly, breaking the gaze he shared with Jason. Jason was at once disheartened and looked down himself; he had been afraid of this. His rage had alienated the closest person he could call a friend here.

"I forgive you."

Jason's head snapped up. That was Piotr's voice. His gaze locked on Piotr again and he saw Piotr smiling weakly at him. His thoughts were interrupted as he noticed others nodding. Bobby himself said. "It's like I always tell you guys; you just need to chill."

Everyone moaned, including Jason. "You did not just make a pun, Bobby…" he groaned.

Bobby was oblivious. "What?"

Jean smiled. "Looks like we all forgive you, Jason."

Now it was Jason's turn to manage a weak smile. Suddenly, his free arm got wrapped around by two other arms. Jason turned to see Tabitha had grabbed his arm and had a conspiratorial look on her face. "And I think I have the perfect way for him to make it up:"

Jason's eyes widened slightly.

"You're going to tell us the next ghost story."

Jason's mind balked. Kurt, however, knew exactly what to say. "All those in favor?"

Many hands in the group shot up.

"Motion carried!"

"Thanks a lot, guys," Jason quipped.

Tabitha dragged Jason top sit down between her and Piotr. "Better have a good one, cutie."

Jason blushed slightly as his mind raced for a story. He hadn't heard a lot of ghost stories himself, and his father wasn't one to tell ghost stories…when his mind suddenly remembered a legend that his father did share once. Jason smiled a toothy grin. "I think I do."

Everybody tuned in instantly, as Jason nestled himself down. "This was a legend my dad told me a long time ago when we walked by a cemetery. Sam, you're from Texas, right?"

Sam nodded.

"You might have heard this then." Jason breathed in, took his flashlight and flicked it on under his chin, illuminating his face in a nightmarish look. He began to narrate, "They say there are truths in every legend, and in every truth there is the seed of a new legend. Whichever this is will be up to you. The West is full of legends, but few can measure up to the man who outran the Devil himself.

"Long before the West was settled, there was a lawman by the name of Carter Slade, the sheriff of San Venganza. Good town, good people; a picturesque town of the unsettled West. One day, a stranger came to the town. At first, nothing changed, but then Slade noticed an increase of unrest in the town. He tried to keep the peace, but it kept getting worse.

"Then one morning, he woke up to find that the entire town had torn itself apart. Every man, woman and child was killed. There was no one left. When authorities from outside town came, they arrested Slade in connection to the destruction of the town, even though he was innocent. He was sentenced to death by hanging.

"As he waited for his unjust death, he got a visitor in the wee hours of the morning. It was the stranger that came to the town before it died. Slade accused the stranger of destroying the town. Everything was fine until the stranger show up, he said. The stranger didn't flinch. He merely said that everyone in the town was getting what it wanted, and nothing more. He made deals with them so they could get what they always wanted. However that affected the rest of the town was inconsequential. He said they asked for a deal, and he gave them what they wanted in exchange for something he wanted.

"As Slade seethed, the stranger then offered Slade a deal. 'You are innocent in this,' he said. 'but you are about to die. It doesn't have to be that way. I offer you a deal: I secure your release, and one day I will request you do one small thing for me.' The stranger whipped out a rusty parchment. 'All you have to do is sign.'

"Slade hated the stranger for ruining his life, but Slade was also a desperate man. He did not want to die, and his life was ruined anyway. What would it matter now if he went along with this man? So, he decided to take the deal. When he reached for the pen, it cut his thumb, and a single drop of blood oozed out and fell on the parchment. The stranger smiled and said, 'That will do just fine.' And then disappeared into the night.

"Morning came and Slade found out he was to be released. And thus he went, and disappeared for years. What did he do? He lived in destitution. He lived, but the faces of the people of San Venganza haunted him every night. For years, the faces haunted him until he was a shell of the man he was before. He may have escaped an unjust death, but it didn't take him long to consider that death was far more acceptable than this living hell. He tried to kill himself a couple of times, but found he could not.

"Then, one night, the stranger returned out of the campfire. The time had come for Slade to fulfill his side of the bargain. 'It has taken a long time,' said the stranger. 'but the time to collect is now. You will take up the mantle as my rider, and round up the condemned souls. Return to San Venganza, and bind the festering souls into this parchment, then deliver it to me. When you return it to me, I shall release you of your curse and you will never see me again.

"Then, the stranger disappeared. At once, Slade felt like his insides burst into flame, and it spread into his head, his hands, his feet, everything. His face exploded into flame, burning hotter than the campfire in front of him. His flesh burned away, leaving nothing but the bone and sinew that held him together. All that was left was Carter Slade was his burning skeleton. He climbed onto his horse and rode off into the night as a new being: the Ghost Rider.

"Now the thing about the Ghost Rider is that he is a spirit of vengeance, nothing but fury and rage, seeking to burn the blood-stained souls of the wicked. They say his very gaze could set a man's soul on fire, and that those souls that were burned by the Rider would forever relive the pain they forced upon the innocents they destroyed…just like what happened to Carter Slade. If the Ghost Rider looks at you, pray to God he doesn't see a single drop of blood on your soul.

"The Rider rode into the ruins of San Venganza, and when he stepped in, it was like hell itself opened up to him and the souls of his old town came to him, screeching like banshees. Hearing that sound would have shattered anyone's mind…but not the mind of the Rider. He was here to deliver these souls to hell, and no screams of mercy would stop him now. His whip could catch and seer any soul and bind it away in that one cursed parchment. One by one, he caught them all up, until the entire town was bound into the Contract of San Venganza, one hundred greedy and festering souls.

"And so the Rider left the town deserted, and rode off to meet the stranger. On the way, he could feel the souls in the parchment reach out and claw at his own torching soul. These people were his townsfolk, his responsibility to protect, and he had already failed them once. Now, he was about to hand them over to the stranger, whom he was convinced to be Satan, or someone just as bad. Yet he rode on, the Rider had to finish his deal with the Devil.

"When the Rider arrived at the campfire he had abandoned, the stranger was waiting for him. In the Rider's eyes, the stranger was looked different: evil, cursed…and jealous. The Rider saw who the stranger was now, a cursed being, but not by the Devil…but by God. Whatever remained of Slade's heart screamed at him not to hand over the contract. One-hundred souls: that was power enough to open the gates of hell on the planet and establish the reign of the Devil on God's creation once and for all.

"The stranger held up and open hand, but remained silent. Words were redundant as the silent demand passed well enough between the stranger and the Rider. The Rider merely stared at him momentarily. The stranger didn't move, but he grew impatient. The Rider then tipped his hat at the stranger. Suddenly, the campfire exploded, blinding the stranger. When the flames died down, the Rider was nowhere to be seen.

"The Rider betrayed the Devil, and outran him. They say the very earth quaked as the Devil screamed in rage at being betrayed by his own creation. Ever since that day, the Rider and the stranger has never been seen walking the Earth, but people know all too well that the Devil will not rest until he gets his hands on the Contract of San Venganza. As for the Rider, some people think he disappeared in the flames in the campfire. Other say he rode off into the night again, forever the Ghost Rider until the day he died. Some say he's still out there, burning the souls of the wicked with his very gaze. Even more say the spirit of the Rider looms over the graveyards like he did at San Venganza. But what they all say is the same: Carter Slade, the Ghost Rider, was never seen again, and that the ruins of San Venganza will forever stand as a reminder why one should never parlay with the Devil, because you will always lose."

Jason finished his story by turning off the flashlight under his chin and looked around at the silent group. No one said anything for a good long time; all were too mystified at hearing the legend. Finally, Kurt spoke up, "I think we have a winner."

"I'll say," Kitty said. "That was like totally freaky."

Jason smiled. "Freaked me out too as a kid. I never looked at graveyards the same way again."

"I don't think I'll ever look at them the same ever again either," Bobby said, shivering.

"You're shivering, Bobby?" Jason said. "Must be approaching absolute zero."

There was a shared laugh at that, and Tabitha squeezed Jason's arm. "He's funny again! Nothing like a good ol' scary story to turn someone around, right cutie?"

Jason only smiled and blushed.

Some time later…

Jason smoothed out the blankets and pillows on the floor of the storage room he had taken refuge in earlier. Despite finally relaxing with the guys, he still could not stay upstairs very long, and when a particularly close thunderclap rattled everyone, he decided to head back downstairs and turn in for the night in the peace and quiet that the underground promised.

It had to be closing in on midnight now, and the others were likely turning in for the night themselves. Shame he would have to spend it alone in this room, but it beat having to deal with the constant rumbling going on outside that threatened to give him a panic attack.

Just as he was about to lie down and hope to fall asleep, a faint knock broke the silence. Startled, Jason called out, "Who's there?"

"It's me," said a voice.

Jason relaxed. It was Piotr. "Peter? What are you doing down here?"

"I was worried…" came in the voice. "Can I come in?"

"The door's unlocked."

The door slid open, letting in the large frame of Piotr Rasputin, who seemed to be carrying a large load in his arms. Jason turned on the flashlight and aimed it at Piotr, revealing that the load was in fact his own pillows and blankets. "Peter?" Jason asked.

Piotr looked down at the pillows and blankets in his arms. "I…I grew concerned. I…I asked Rogue where you were staying…and…I thought I would…well…keep you company…"

Jason merely stared, touched. Piotr had sacrificed sleeping comfortably on a bed so that he could sleep on the floor to make sure Jason would not have to sleep alone in his own fear. Slowly, a smile broke across his face as he said, "Peter, you didn't have to do that."

Piotr nodded. "I-I know. I just…I did not think you wanted to be alone."

Jason allowed the rest of the smile to do its magic. "Peter, how did you know?"

Piotr dropped his beddings on the floor. "I just knew. I had been alone myself for so long, even in a room full of people. I did not want you to feel that…and I thought that you would not want that either."

Jason closed his eyes. "Alone in a room full of people, huh? I didn't know you were such a poet."

Piotr began to make the makeshift bed on the floor, not too far away from Jason, when he had to stop because he was blushing too much. "It feels just like that, comrade."

Jason opened his eyes, his mind remembering the previous days when he did isolate himself from the others at the Institute. "You're right. It feels just like that. Thanks, Peter, and I truly am sorry for biting you head off a couple days ago."

"All is forgiven, Jason," Piotr replied, then resumed making the bed, as it were. "That was disturbing story you told tonight."

Jason grinned. "Isn't it? When I was a kid, I thought I'd get nightmares from it. I got lucky, I guess."

"You said at beginning that every legend has truth in it, da?"

"That's right."

"What do you think is truth in that legend?"

Jason paused to think. "I like to think that there really was a town called San Venganza, somewhere in the desert, falling into dust, and that in reality, the townsfolk just tore each other apart in some brutal massacre. But…something tells me that there may be more truth to it than that."

Piotr lied down on the blankets. "Do you think a Ghost Rider still exists?"

"I hope not…" Jason said, lying down himself. "But hell, we're mutants with extraordinary abilities, so I guess I shouldn't be surprised. However, if there is one, I hope I never run into him. I'd piss myself."

"I do not think he would hurt you, Jason. You said he burns souls of the wicked."

"Yeah…" Jason said. "But I don't think that's much comfort if I run into someone made of a fiery skeleton. I'd run right there and then."

"I might too," Piotr said. "Good night, Jason."

"Good night, Peter." Jason rolled onto his side, feeling confident that he could now sleep peacefully tonight, even if he just told one of the scariest stories he ever heard in his life. After all, it was just a story.

Somewhere in the Southwest

"Wallet, jewelry, FAST!"

A punk kid held a hysterical woman at knifepoint in a deserted alley, desperate for anything valuable she possessed. However, the woman was too panicked to comply. "Please, I don't want to die!" she bawled.

"Shut the fuck up, and give me your fucking money!"

"I have two kids at home!"

"Fuck you! Give me your purse or I'll cut you up!"

This back-and-forth went on briefly, when suddenly, a hellish roar shook the street beneath their feet. Both froze at that terrible sound, when suddenly a burning chain flew out of the darkness, wrapping itself around the feet of the knife-wielding punk. The thief fell as he was dragged away from the woman, who stared transfixed as her eyes followed the length of the chain to its bearer, and promptly fainted.

In the alleyway was the figure of a man, but his head was a flaming skull, eye-sockets blacker than the night and his mouth forever etched in a hellish grin. He was dressed in leather, his greaves and the tops of his shoulders embedded in spikes that added to his devilish appearance, every inch a literal hell's angel.

"Guilty!" proclaimed the leather-bound devil in a deep, ghoulish voice. The hellish figure reached down and pulled up the punk and pinned him against the wall. The punk's eyes bulged out of his head as his eyes met the ghoul's. "Look into my eyes…"

The punk worked up the nerve to stab the ghoul in the arm, and so he did. The ghoul didn't flinch, and merely looked the closest thing to bemused that he could ever be. The knife promptly melted away and the ghoul locked his gaze into the punk's fear-stricken eyes.

"Your soul is stained by the blood of the innocent!" The ghoul's eye-sockets burst into flame. "FEEL THEIR PAIN!"

The punk screamed as hellish images filled his head, burning him inside out. He recognized each and every one of them: people he killed after he was done with them. Each one screamed like banshees in his ears. He couldn't stop his ears, or close his eyes. Each of the people he killed were back and were burning him alive! His scream pierced the night.

And then it was over. He lay on the ground, his mind deafened by the noise and images he experienced, freshly burning. The last thing he heard that night was the hellish laughter and the revving of a motorcycle. He was now alone with his nightmares, and at once he was sorry…so incredibly sorry.

Justice has now been served.

I am so terrible sorry for the delay! For the last several weeks, I've been down for the count with the worst flu/cold bug combo I've ever had. I couldn't concentrate on writing at all. However, I'm done with it now, and even left you a small bonus with the cameo appearance of the Ghost Rider. Will he return again in this work or future works? Only time will tell. Hell hath no fury then a burning skeleton on a motorcycle, after all.

Anyway, here's the next preview for Chapter 4: Weight Problem.

"There's a new big man on campus…literally. The massive Fred Dukes has come to the school, and is already causing problems. When he runs into Jean Grey, things only escalate and now the X-Men now have a weight problem in a matter of speaking. How will they take care of the Blob? Find out next time!"