Jean follows Erik down the street, still feeling disoriented from her telepathic loss of control. The world looks strange to her. It's dim and out-of-focus, not nearly as bright as the memories she wandered through earlier. She can feel the buzz of other minds itching at the back of her head, but she resists the urge to reach back and scratch it.

The Professor told her once that learning telepathy was a little like learning to read. It's a difficult skill that requires hours of practice, but once you know how, it becomes hard to turn it off again. Sometimes you can't help reading billboards and posters as you walk down the street, whether you want to or not. Jean is trying very hard not to right now, but she keeps getting short snatches of thought, little disjointed phrases that are just meaningful enough to divide her attention. It's very distracting. She shakes her head and moves faster to catch up with Erik's fast strides.

"Where are we going?" she asks.

"It's not far, just two blocks away," Erik says, glancing back at her over his shoulder. "Scott and Ororo should be there by now. Assuming they found it."

"Scott's very reliable," Jean says. It's something the Professor always says about him. "Where was Ororo, anyway?" she asks, suddenly remembering how Ororo went missing in the first place.

Erik rolls his eyes. "Apparently there was some man selling balloons and she followed him up the block to buy one. Scott found her standing on the corner of the street."

"Oh." That does sound like something Ororo would do. Jean really needs to have a conversation with her about asking permission before she wanders off alone.

Erik stops at a store on their way to buy groceries. It's a tiny place crammed with cloudy jars of pickled vegetables and strange meats hanging from the ceiling. Jean's mother would have turned up her nose at it, but Erik doesn't seem bothered.

While they're waiting in line Jean stares at the back of his head and thinks about what he said earlier. Your life is more important than another person's privacy. Did that apply to him too? She still doesn't know if they can really trust him. She feels less cautious after taking an extended tour through his mind, but that could have been misleading. He only showed her older memories after all, nothing more recent. It's entirely possible they've gone from the frying pan into the fire.

It's not hard to find Erik's mind again and separate his thoughts out from the crowd of voices around them. Jean reaches out lightly, barely brushing against his thoughts in case she loses control again. He's distracted, his attention straying as his mind goes in circles, running down a list—

23:05 silence guard station, 23:10 secure target, 23:15 rendezvous, 23:20 extraction, 23:35 return to base, 23:45 resume contact. 23:05 silence guard station, 23:10 secure target, 23:15 rendezvous…

Jean can't make much sense of it, and she pulls back after a moment, afraid of being detected. Rendezvous? Was he thinking about the Brotherhood? He told Mystique to return to the "mission" earlier. Maybe this was part of their plan? But what were they doing?

The clerk waves them forward to the cash register, interrupting Jean's thoughts. After they get checked out, she helps Erik carry the groceries one block up to a sad-looking apartment building. The brick is chipped and faded and Jean can see several broken windows upstairs. Erik holds the door open for her and together they climb two flights to the third floor.

Erik finds the door to 32C—the same door Jean saw in his head before—and opens it without needing any keys. Scott and Ororo are inside sitting on a faded couch and they both jump up in excitement as Jean and Erik enter the room.

"What took so long?" Scott says.

"Did you bring dinner?" Ororo asks. "I'm starving!"

"Yes, yes," Erik says. "We stopped to buy things for sandwiches."

Jean glances around the apartment as the others crowd into the kitchen. The living room reminds Jean of her grandmother's house. The couch has a floral pattern and the whole place smells vaguely musty. She goes down a hallway and opens a door to find a pink-tiled bathroom with a stained bathtub. Another door reveals a bedroom crammed with furniture: a dresser, an armoire, and a big king-sized bed. Lastly, she finds a second bedroom with two bunk beds that look weirdly out-of-place. They look like beds at a sleepaway camp or an army barracks. Jean suspects that whoever decorated the rest of the apartment didn't pick out these beds.

She goes into the kitchen and finds Erik emptying the grocery bags while Scott and Ororo help. Jean continues her investigation, opening the refrigerator door to find that there's no food inside except for the milk Erik brought with them. The cabinets, on the other hand, are stocked full of canned vegetables and beans. Jean takes out a jar of peaches and blows the dust off.

"What is this place?" she asks. "Who lives here?"

"No one lives here," Erik says, getting a square griddle pan out from under the sink. "It's a safe house. A place where people can go if they need to lay low and hide."

"Like from the police?" Ororo asks.

"From whoever."

"Oh," Ororo says. "What are you making?"

Erik shrugs. "How does grilled cheese sound?"

"Great! I love grilled cheese!"

"Good, then you can get the bread out for me."

Erik tells Scott and Jean to set the table while Ororo helps him cook. They find a set of mismatched dishes in the top cabinets, no two plates alike. They don't look very clean, so Jean decides to wash them first and makes Scott help her dry.

It's strangely comforting to be making dinner, almost like they're visiting a friend instead of on the run from the Avengers. Ororo seems to be having fun and makes up a song that goes, "Griiii-lled toast! Griiii-lled toast! Lots of cheese and grilled toast!" Even Scott starts to look relaxed, lining up the plates and glasses on the table as he finishes drying them. The enclosed walls of the apartment also seem to be helping Jean block telepathically. The steady background noise of other minds has finally quieted, leaving her head feeling considerably lighter.

Erik can't find a spatula, so he uses his fingers to flip the sandwiches, watching them closely until they've reached a nice golden brown. He floats the pan over to the counter when the grilled cheese is done and flips it, neatly transferring them to a plate. Ororo stands up on her toes as he's slicing the sandwiches in half and leans over the counter to watch.

She frowns, wrinkling up her nose. "I don't like rectangles."

"What?" he asks.

"Ororo, it's fine," Jean says, realizing where this is going.

Ororo ignores her. "I don't eat square foods," she tells Erik, tilting her head back to look up at him.

"You—what? It doesn't matter what shape they are. They'll all taste the same," he says, decisively slicing the last sandwich in half.

Ororo pushes back from the counter and crosses her arms. "I'm not hungry."

"You said you were hungry five minutes ago," Erik answers, raising the knife and pointing toward the dining room. "Now sit down and eat."

"No," she says, sounding like she's getting ready to throw a fit.

Erik laughs in a way that's not very humorous. "Uh, yes. You're going to sit down and eat, young lady, and you're going to do it right now or else I'll—!"

"It's okay!" Jean says, shouldering between them. She takes the knife out of Erik's hand and pulls the plate of sandwiches toward her. She slices them again, quartering them diagonally. "See, now they're triangles!"

Ororo smiles and picks up a plate. She holds it out and Jean slides several sandwiches onto it. "Thank you!"

Jean waits until Ororo goes into the other room to eat before saying anything. "When she gets in a mood it's usually easier to play along with her."

Erik passes a plate to Jean with more force than necessary. "Childish nonsense. She'll never grow up if you coddle her like that."

"Uh, she's six," Scott points out, picking up a grilled cheese. "Who cares if she only eats triangles?"

Erik looks like he's about to argue that he cares, so Jean grabs the last of the sandwiches and follows Ororo out into the dining room. She takes the can of peaches with her and dishes several out onto both of their plates. Professor X would probably want them to eat a vegetable too, but the cans of green beans and spinach looked gross to Jean. She doubts Ororo would eat them anyway.

Erik and Scott join them shortly, still arguing about how old someone has to be before they're forced to eat square foods.

There's a TV in the other room angled so they can see it from the dining room table. Jean gets up and switches it on to the nightly news. This has the desired effect as both Erik and Scott stop arguing to watch.

Jean zones out during a long report about the New York City mayoral election, not paying attention as the candidates come on to arguing about the city's terrible finances. She's finished her sandwich and is starting on more peaches when Scott sits up and says, "Uh oh."

"Huh?" Jean says.

Scott points toward the TV, indicating the anchors, who are now chatting in a friendly fashion about "the unusual weather this afternoon." Erik lifts one hand and the volume on the television turns up.

"—now for more on this surprising midday lightning storm," the main anchor says. A meteorologist appears on the screen and starts to talk about the incredibly rare conditions necessary for a lightning strike to happen without a thunderstorm. "There were even reports that some of the bolts were reddish in color," he says, sounding excited. "This may indicate that the lightning was caused by an unusual accumulation of dust particles in the air that caused a strong electric charge to build up and also created the illusion of a reddish colored light."

Jean glances over a Scott and sees that he's staring down at his plate looking miserable. She signs. "It's not your fault, Scott."

"Yes, it is," he says.

"If anything it's Ororo's fault for causing the lightning strike in the first place," Jean says, turning to glare at her.

"I told you it was an accident!" Ororo says.

"You shouldn't have even tried in the first place! None of this would have happened if—"

"Shhh," Erik hisses, waving a hand at them. "I'm trying to listen." The anchors have moved on to the crime report now and are talking about a series of muggings somewhere in Queens.

Ororo pushes back from the table and stomps away to one of the bedrooms. Jean picks up their plates, clearing the table for lack of anything better to do. She dumps them in the sink and then decides that someone else can wash them since she already cleaned them once herself.

Scott and Erik have moved to the living room by the time she gets back. She joins them, sitting in the most comfortable-looking and least beat-up armchair.

Ororo gets bored being by herself by the time the news is over and returns to the living room. "Can we watch Wonderful World of Disney?" she asks.

"No," Erik says. "Not until 60 Minutes is over."

Ororo sighs and flops dramatically over the side of the couch. "Fiiiiiine."

The three of them are soon bored senseless as a detailed report about Nicaragua airs, featuring long segments about politicians Jean has never heard of before. Erik, on the other hand, is watching closely, sitting forward on the couch with his elbows resting on his knees. He keeps tapping the coffee table with his fingers like he's nervous or impatient about something.

"Are you waiting for something?" Jean asks.

Erik glances at her and sighs. "No—I'm not sure. I'm just wondering why there hasn't been anything about three missing kids yet."

"Oh," Scott says. "Do you think they'd be looking for us already?"

"It depends," he says. "They might still be trying to contact Jean's parents. Maybe the Avengers haven't figured out yet that someone else picked you up today."

Jean nods. "I bet they won't find Mom and Dad until tonight. And then they won't be able to announce we're missing until tomorrow morning."

"If they do at all," Erik says. "It's also possible they identified me and decided not to put out a missing persons report at all. Don't want to risk civilians or human cops trying to interfere and getting killed."

"We're not going to kill anyone!" Scott says, sitting up and looking horrified.

"Yeah," Ororo says. "The X-Men don't kill people! It's a rule."

Erik looks away, rolling his eyes up toward the ceiling. "Yes, I am aware. I wasn't saying I was going to kill anyone, I was saying they're worried I might."

"Right," Jean says. "But also we aren't going to kill anyone."

"Definitely not," Scott agrees.

"Right?" Ororo says, looking at Erik.

He sighs in response. "Okay, I will do my best not to kill any of the idiots who try to get in my way. Happy?"

"As long as you try," Ororo says. "Can we watch the Six Million Dollar Man now?"

"Fine." Erik waves his hand and the television changes to ABC.

They watch half an episode about a nuclear submarine being hijacked by pirates before Ororo falls asleep and starts drooling on the arm of the couch. Erik makes Scott help him pick her up and tuck her into one of the bunk beds in the second bedroom.

"You two should go to bed too," he says when they come back to the living room where Jean is waiting. "I want us to get to Westchester early tomorrow. I'm sure Charles is worried enough as it is with you three going missing for an entire night."

Scott opens his mouth with a startled expression and then turns to look at Jean. He looks miserable, just like Jean feels. She almost forgot what brought them here in the first place.

Erik gives the two of them a confused look, glancing back and forth between them. "What's wrong?"

"Um," Jean says. She looks back and Scott and he nods. There's really no point in hiding it from Erik any longer. Clearly they need his help. They'll have to tell him anyway tomorrow when they arrive at the mansion and find it empty. "The thing is… we're not really the ones who are missing. The X-Men are. They all disappeared last week."

"Wait—what?" Erik says. "Charles is missing?" He leans down so he's kneeling in front of her, his hands clasping the armrests of her chair.

"Yes," Jean says, deciding she made the right decision. He wouldn't be so surprised now if the Brotherhood had taken the Professor in the first place. "Professor X disappeared first. We think he was kidnapped. So, the older kids went searching for him, but they haven't come back yet."

"When was this?"

"Like a week ago?" Jean says, glancing at Scott for confirmation. "They found some clues that led them to Europe and went looking there. They were in contact with us at first, but we haven't been able to raise them on the radio in a while."

"You three have been alone for over a week?" Erik asks, his voice dropping down into the dangerous register that Jean is starting to realize means he's both angry and worried at the same time. "Why didn't you call me sooner?"

"Um, well... the others thought maybe, um, maybe it was you guys."

Erik sighs and sits back on his heels. "Jean, if I had kidnapped the Professor I would have left a note."

"Oh." He did do that one time. Jean remembers it now. They searched all day despite the part of the message that said "you'll never find us" and "he will be returned unharmed." The Professor was back the next morning looking surprisingly cheerful despite his ruffled appearance and several suspicious bruises on his arms and neck.

"Well, we didn't know that," Scott points out.

"No, I guess not," Erik says, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "Okay, start at the beginning, what happened?"

"We all went out on a mission one day and when we got back the Professor was gone."

"There weren't any clues?"

"Not really," Scott says. "My brother thought it might be this group we've been hearing about lately—Factor Three. But they couldn't find out anything about them."

"Factor Three?" Erik repeats. "I've never heard of them."

"They're supposed to be mutants," Jean explains. "But that's all we know. That's why we thought it might be a front group for the Brotherhood."

Erik shakes his head. "I wouldn't use a front like that. If the Brotherhood is doing something, I want our name on it."

"Oh," Jean says. "Sorry."

"It's not your fault. It's their fault. I can't believe those idiots left the three of you alone by yourselves."

"Well, they didn't know they wouldn't come back!" Scott points out.

"They should have prepared for it!" Erik says, his voice rising. "Charles should have prepared for it."

Jean puts her finger to her mouth. "Ororo," she says, whispering to remind him to be quiet.

Erik glances back toward the bedroom. "Right, sorry."

"Anyway, it's not like we're little kids," Jeans says.

Erik laughs softly and shakes his head. "Oh, no. Heaven forbid. All right, who was in this rescue crew? Banshee, the Beast, and Havok?"

Jean nods. "Yeah. All three of them."

"And where were they exactly when they vanished?"

"Europe," she says.

Erik raises one eyebrow. "Can you be more specific? Europe is a big place. Do you know what country?"

Jean glances over at Scott, but he just shrugs in response. "No, they were kind of keeping us in the dark."

"Probably because they didn't want you to worry about the fact that they had no idea what they were doing. All right. New plan. I'm taking you to the Brotherhood's main base and we'll figure out what to do from there."

"Could we go back to the mansion first?" Scott asks. "We tried searching through the Professor's research files, but we didn't find much and we couldn't get into his safe. But maybe you can."

"Yes," Erik says, nodding. "You're right. Okay, we'll stop in Westchester first. Then join up with the Brotherhood."

"We need to get a change of clothes and toothbrushes and stuff anyway," Jean says, feeling oddly jealous that Scott had the idea before her.

"Should Ororo come with us?" Scott asks.

Erik nods, looking distracted. "She's safer with us than anywhere else. And I don't want any of you left alone until I figure out what we're up against. Whoever this is could be targeting the X-Men as a whole. Maybe they kidnapped Charles first to lure in the rest of you."

"Oh," Jean says. "So you think the others fell for a trap?"

"Maybe." He sighs. "It seems strange that this Factor Three didn't attack the mansion outright, but maybe they weren't interested in babysitting the three of you."

"Hey!" Scott says.

"It wasn't an insult," Erik says. "Okay. Both of you go to bed. This just means we need to get up even earlier to have time to search the mansion for clues."

Jean goes into the pink-tiled bathroom and finds a sliver of soap to wash her face with. She also finds an old tube of toothpaste and spreads a little on her finger to brush. When she gets back to the bedroom, Scott has already taken the top bunk and from the sound of his breathing he's fast asleep. Jean is not so lucky. She knows she should get to sleep—better to be well rested and ready for anything tomorrow—but she's too anxious now. She can't help imagining all of the awful things that could be happening to the Professor and the X-Men.

Jean's not sure how long she's awake tossing and turning. She can hear cars outside on the road and the occasional siren that goes screaming past. She's half dozing when she hears a jangling sound from the front of the apartment. The security chain? She wakes up completely when it's followed by a solid but muffled thud, like someone shutting the door very carefully.

Jean sits up in bed. She waits a moment, but she doesn't hear anything else aside from Scott and Ororo breathing. She gets up, moving quietly so as not to wake either of them.

The front room is silent and dark, lit by nothing but the green glow of a pharmacy sign across the street. Erik's shoes are missing from their spot next to the door. She checks the kitchen, but it's empty as well, the only movement the ticking of the second hand on the clock. She looks into the master bedroom next and feels a moment of panic when she sees the empty bed where Erik is supposed to be sleeping. The blankets are rumpled, like he lay down for a bit and then got back up again.

Why would he leave in the middle of the night? Why not wait for morning? Unless he didn't want them to know. Or he isn't planning to come back.

There's no note anywhere, not that she can see, but she finds his suit jacket folded over a chair next to the bed. That makes her feel calmer. He probably wouldn't leave his jacket behind if he were leaving for good. The envelope she finds in the nightstand also makes her feel better. It's sealed, but it looks and feels suspiciously like a thick stack of dollar bills. If anything does happen to him, at least they'll be able to buy train tickets home tomorrow with the money.

She goes into the kitchen to wait and watch out the front window. She counts cars as they pass on the street below, their headlights illuminating the kitchen in long sweeping passes. She's up to more than seventy by the time she hears the sound of footsteps in the outside hallway.

Jean tenses when she hears the click of the lock, and then the sound of someone shuffling in the front hall. The security chain rattles and then Erik comes around the corner into the kitchen.

Erik stops when he sees her silhouetted against the window. The silverware drawer clangs open and a knife files across the room into his hand. He holds it up threateningly and the overhead light turns on with a loud click despite the fact that Erik is a good three feet away from the switch.

"Shi—oot, Jean," he says, throwing the knife down on the table when he recognizes her. "You nearly gave me a heart attack. Why aren't you in bed?"

"Why aren't you?" she asks, annoyed that he's interrogating her when he's the one that snuck off like a teenager breaking curfew.

"I went out. What are you waiting up for? You should be asleep."

"I heard you leave," she says. "Where were you? You can't just leave. I had no idea where you went!"

He stares at her, his jaw tight with anger, and Jean remembers Ororo making him promise not to kill anyone earlier. His answer was not very sincere.

She meets his gaze for a long moment, too scared to do anything but stare back. She's on the verge of breaking and looking away, but Erik beats her to it, shaking his head as he lets out a huff of laughter. He goes to the window and peers out through the blinds.

"Did I wake you when I left? I was trying to be quiet. I needed a smoke." He pulls a white cigarette package out of his pocket to show her and tosses it down on the table.

"It took you a half-hour to buy cigarettes?" Jean asks, incredulous. "Why didn't you go to the drug store across the street? It's open late, isn't it?"

Erik taps one finger on the table, his jaw working. "I did. I bought them downstairs and then took a walk and had a smoke. For some reason I really needed one." He stresses some reason so she knows he means the three of them. He opens the window and then turns away to the cabinets over the sink, searching them until he finds an ashtray.

"You haven't even opened the package," Jean says, pointing to the unbroken seal.

Erik laughs again, shaking his head like he can't get over being interrogated by a teenage girl. Good, maybe it will keep him from disappearing again without saying anything.

He sits down across from her, setting the ashtray on the table. "Maybe I bought two packs and chain-smoked the other one before I got back," he says, spreading his hands in a broad gesture like he's giving up.

He doesn't smell like smoke, but that's beside the point. "What were you really doing?" she asks.

Erik sighs, picking the pack up and tapping it a few times before opening it. Jean waits as he pulls a matchbook from his pocket and lights a cigarette. He takes his time with the first drag, holding it in his mouth for a long moment before exhaling out his nose. "I had to make a phone call."

"To who?"

"No one you need to worry about."

"Mystique," she says, about 80% sure.

He takes another drag and lets out a long breath, leaning over to blow the smoke out the open window. He nods once, a curt acknowledgement. "Yes."

"Was she okay? Where are they?"

He taps the ash off the end of his cigarette, watching her for a long beat before responding. "I'm not sure. I tried calling three times and no one answered."

"Do you think it went bad? Their mission?" she asks. She feels a little tremor of the same panic she felt earlier when she saw the empty bed. If the rest of the Brotherhood got into trouble, then it's just the four of them against... whatever it is they're up against.

Erik takes a few more drags off his cigarette. It's almost done now, burning down to the edges of the filter. "No, I don't think they were captured. Just, there might have been... complications. Something that tied them up longer than they expected. We'll find out tomorrow. Azazel's supposed to meet us here early in the morning once he's no longer needed."

"Unless he doesn't come at all."

"Exactly," Erik says, and stubs out the end of his cigarette in the ashtray.

Jean nods and gets up, pausing with one hand on the doorway. He's right. She should go to bed. But she still feels unsettled. "Do you think that—we'll find them? The X-Men?"

"Of course we'll find them," he says, looking down as he digs in the pack for another cigarette.

"I mean... alive."

Erik looks up at that. "Of course they're alive."

"You don't know that," she says, feeling defensive. She's not a child. He doesn't have to lie to her.

Erik sighs and puts a new cigarette in his mouth. "Have a little more faith in your fellow mutants. We're hard to kill."

"Okay," she says, although she doesn't really feel any better.

"Go to bed, Jean. Do you need to be tucked in or something?"

"I'm twelve," she says, turning up her nose as she leaves.

Jean goes to bed and this time she falls asleep. It's a fitful, half-awake sleep that isn't very restful. She has strange dreams that feel too much like waking. Later, she's not sure if parts of them were real or not. She could swear once that she woke up and saw Erik standing at the door, checking on them, but the next time she rolls over the doorway is empty.