Chapter Ten:
What Could Happen?

"He's not angry with you. You haven't done anything to upset him."

"Maybe that's the problem," I murmured, feeling a mixture of sadness and uneasiness. V, since we'd taken off, had been trying to reassure me that Mr. Logan wasn't upset, but I thought otherwise and with good reason, too. Shifting in my seat, I lowered my gaze from the back of his head to my lap. He hadn't spoken to me at all since the incident back at Bobby's house, barely even looked at me as we boarded the jet or when he sat me down in my seat. There were no words of encouragement. No nickname calling or a pat on the head. No 'we'll get through this, you'll see.' Nothing and I found that very disheartening. Like I said before, it was amazing how attached to him I had gotten in such a small amount of time.

Every so often an image of him on the ground with a bullet in his forehead appeared in my mind and another of him standing up as if nothing had happened. Talk about coming back from the dead. I'd never been so freaked out in my life. I wish I'd said something to him as he carried me off the porch, away from the havoc, but I didn't. Instead, I buried my face in the crook of his neck, trying to hide. That's why I thought he was mad- because I hadn't done anything to help, like John and Marie… all I did was hide and panic.

"No one expected you to do anything. You don't have a very active power."

"I have my barrier," I reminded Voice, but it was only there to protect me and it was unpredictable. "I expected myself to be braver," I whispered, sighing and then added, "Not a whimpering baby…" a part of me knew that I was being hard on myself, but that didn't stop the bashing either way. Disappointed, I looked towards the small window beside me and allowed myself to smile briefly as I watched the clouds go by. I'd never been on a plane, let alone a jet, before. At least this day hadn't been completely ruined. Being so high up made me feel detached from the world and, for someone with my condition- it was a good thing, but there was still something in the air, a feeling I couldn't shake off no matter how hard I tried, and I didn't like it.

"You should tell one of the adults… it wouldn't hurt to let them know."

Nodding, I began to stand up, but stopped when I felt a light breeze on the back of my neck. I ran a hand through my hair as I looked over my shoulder towards the roof of the jet, where I thought the wind had come from. There was nothing there, nothing that could cause a breeze. I shuddered and sat back. I had probably just imagined it.

Sighing, I faced forward, towards the seat in front of me, which was currently occupied by a newcomer named Kurt Wagner, or Nightcrawler. His mutation, from what I could see, was a physical one- blue skin with strange markings, three digit hands, a long devil's tail, yellow eyes and sharp teeth, though he did have some human qualities as well such as his dark hair. I won't lie, I freaked out a little when I first saw him, but there was this friendly, shy vibe coming from him and a he's-more-weary-of-you-than-you-are-of-him vibe as well, so I knew he wasn't a threat. He seemed to have sensed my uneasiness, so, while I made myself comfortable, I gave him a strained smile, which he returned with a nod.

"You think it's funny?" An angry voice asked, bringing me out of my thoughts and breaking the uncomfortable, deafening silence around us. It was Bobby, and he looked murderous. It was the first time I'd seen him angry. It was kind of scary, but it didn't stop him from being good looking. Oh, God, I thought rolling my eyes inwardly; I really am a teenage girl. "Let's go set fire to your house next time," he said, leaning forward. After his last comment, I knew he was talking to John about his… episode. Truth be told, I was desperately trying to forget it.

"Too late for that," John replied, nonchalantly. I felt a chill, wondering what he meant.

Marie sighed, and spoke up, "You almost killed those cops, John."

"So?" He asked, not feeling any twinge of regret about what he had done, but rather proud of it. "If push came to shove, Logan would have," he said and then added, "If he hadn't been shot." I cringed, another unflattering image of Mr. Logan on the ground, with a bullet in his head.

I looked at the back of Mr. Logan's head, he didn't seem to be listening to their conversation; he was too busy staring at the cockpit, where Dr. Grey and Ms. Monroe were at the controls. He suddenly stood up and walked towards the front. "How far are we?" He asked in his gruff voice. I tilted my head to the side; far enough to see what was going on. He was leaning against the back of the red-head mutant's chair, looking at her.

"We're actually coming up on the mansion now," she told him over the low beeping sound coming from the radar screen. She knew what he was thinking, how he felt about her, and she was flattered, but felt guilty because she kind of felt it too. I placed my hand over my chest and shook my head as I sat back in my seat. What the hell was happening to me?

"I've got two signals approaching," Ms. Monroe said and I immediately felt how worried she was about them, "Coming in fast."

There was static coming from where the three adults were, "Unidentified aircraft, you are ordered to descend to 20, 000 feet. Return with our escorts to Hanscom Air Force base," a stiff female voice commanded over the radio. "You have 10 seconds to comply." My first reaction was that it had to be some kind of a joke, a mistake, but after everything we'd all been through in the past few hours, I knew it wasn't and the fact that I could feel panic from the others confirmed that I was wrong and that it was just my wishful thinking.

"Wow. Somebody's angry."

"I wonder why," Mr. Logan replied, looking over his shoulder at John, who I had seen taking the seat in front of Mr. Wagner as we boarded the jet.

"We are coming up along side you to escorts you to Hanscom Air Force base. Lower your altitude now. Repeat, lower your altitude to 20, 000 feet," the woman said, sounding annoyed and impatient. "This is your last warning."

"They're falling back," I heard Mr. Monroe say. She sounded more suspicious than she did relieved. Furrowing my brows, I looked out the window, unsure of what to think or feel, and saw that the fighter jets were, in fact, falling back. Maybe they were leaving.

"Oh, no. They're not done yet, far from it. Whatever happens- stay calm." Startled by Voice's ominous warning, I jumped when I heard a loud beeping sound coming from the cockpit. I looked away from the window and leaned to the side of my seat to see what was happening.

"What?" Mr. Logan asked, head snapping towards Ms. Monroe's direction, hoping that he had heard her wrong when she said they had targeted the jet.

"They're gonna fire," she told him, looking over her shoulder towards the rest of us. I felt everyone's panic, including my own, growing by the second, "Hang on!" She faced forward as Mr. Logan made a dash for his seat, but stumbled when the jet's speed increased. I jerked forward, nearly falling out of my chair. Without a second thought, I began to put on my seatbelt, feeling desperate all of a sudden, frustrated about not being able to fasten it. I frowned and looked up from my lap after I put it on- Marie was having trouble with her seatbelt. I must have felt what she was feeling.

"I got to shake 'em," Ms. Monroe shouted as the jet flipped over on its side and then upside down. I shut my eyes and tightened my grip on my seatbelt, feeling a little queasy, so much for a nice, peaceful flight. When I opened my eyes, we were right side up, again. Thank God!

"Please don't do that again!" I heard a familiar voice say. It was John. I could almost see him as though he were right in front of me, slouched down in his seat, hands tightly gripping the armrest. I shut my eyes and shook my head. What the hell was happening to me?

Mr. Logan agreed with him and I nodded pathetically, trying to keep myself from screaming and thrashing around in my seat. "Don't we have any weapons in this heap?" He shouted over the engine, looking around, and as if on queue the air went still and the sky grew dark.

Startled and extremely curious, I looked out the window again. It looked like it was going to rain. My jaw dropped a little as I watched wispy clouds began to form, twisting into long thin tunnels. One formed and then another, and the next thing I knew the sky was filled with, at least, a dozen tornadoes. "Holy shit," I cried as the jet began to rock.

Moments later, the sky was clear again, but I couldn't shake off the feeling that something was wrong. I shuddered as I felt a light breeze on my neck, again. I quickly looked over my shoulder, not understanding why. "Everyone okay back there?" Dr. Grey asked, but I didn't turn around to look at her, I kept my eyes on the roof of the jet. Something was going to happen. I could feel it.

"No!" Mr. Logan replied as if speaking for all of us. Hearing the alarm go off again, I jumped and quickly turned towards the cockpit.

"Oh my God. There's two of 'em," Ms. Monroe said, sounding strained and panicked.

"Two of what?" I asked out loud.

"Missiles."

"What?!"

"Just hold on, okay? Whatever happens- don't remove your seatbelt."

I wanted to tell Voice not to worry- I wasn't crazy enough to take off my belt, but I stopped when I felt an overpowering emotion that I couldn't explain. I leaned forward a little, holding my stomach and silently wishing that it would go away, shortly after I heard a faint explosion from behind. The unknown emotion was gone just as fast as it appeared. I sighed in relief.

"There's one more," Ms. Monroe informed us, at least I though she was talking to all of us.

"Jean?"

Time seemed to slow down as I blinked, and the next thing I knew the roof of the jet had been hit by one of the missiles Voice had mentioned. It was then that I realized that the phantom breeze I had been feeling was foreshadowing what was to come. I jerked around in my seat violently, my hair flying everywhere, making it hard for me to see. Please, make it stop, I pleaded in my head. A sudden rush of fear, that I knew wasn't mine, hit me like a bulldozer. I looked up when I heard a scream, Marie was desperately holding on to the back of her chair, seconds later she slipped.

"Marie!" I shouted, trying to reach for her, but she was too far from me.

"Rouge!" Bobby and Mr. Logan cried out, her boyfriend desperately trying to reach for her as well, but it was already too late, she was gone, sucked out of the jet.

My attention was drawn away from the horrifying scene that had just taken place when I heard a faint bamf sound. I turned around in my seat to find that Mr. Wagner was gone, too, a cloud of blue mist in his place. My jaw dropped. What the hell? Had something happened to him? My question was answered when I heard the bamf sound again, the same blue mist appearing. Only this time Mr. Wagner and Marie appeared in it, unharmed. I sighed in relief. They were okay, but not for long. We were all in trouble- the jet was still falling, nose first.

I could feel my face scrunch up as I closed my eyes, trying to fight off everyone else's panic, helplessness and fear. I could barely handle my own, I didn't need theirs too. Out of no where, I felt a hand grab mine. Opening my eyes, I saw that it was Bobby. He was as terrified as I was, but I couldn't help but feel grateful towards him for trying to comfort me. We looked away from each other, still holding hands. I crossed myself with my broken arm as the speed increased. I felt dizzy.

What a way to die. I kind of hoped that I would die when I was old… Oh, well.

I was pulled out of my depressing thoughts when I heard a sound from behind. Letting go of Bobby's hand, I looked up towards the roof of the jet. It was bending and twisting, slowly mending itself. The falling jet began to slow down. No fucking way! Was I crazy to assume that this was some kind of miracle?

"Jean?" Ms. Monroe called out.

"It's not me!"

I looked out the window and saw the ground getting close and then with a violent jolt the jet came to a stop. I jerked forward, the seatbelt keeping me from falling out of my chair and hitting the one in front of me. Breathing heavily, I leaned to the side and saw that there were two people standing outside of the jet, staring up at us. The jet came to a quick stop. The one that caught my attention the most was the blue, naked woman, at least I thought it was a woman and that she was naked, with slicked back red hair and yellow eyes. She strangely reminded me of Mr. Wagner. The man standing next to her seemed normal enough, an old man wearing a cape, his arm outstretched in front of him. I realized that he was the reason we were still alive, but somehow that didn't comfort me.

I suddenly felt extremely sick.