Chapter 20 - Perceptions

Xavier's School for the Gifted Youngsters, Salem Center, New York.

Three days had passed since the team's division in two groups. It was the day before Christmas Eve and the mood inside the mansion had improved a lot. There hadn't been any attacks against mutants during the previous days; Forge was positive he was getting closer to finding a solution for the antidote's conduit; little Nathan hadn't thrown any more tantrums during dinner time; and Jubilee had avoided a certain redhead like Count Dracula avoids the sun. Peace seemed to have been restored among the X-family.

Jean had made enormous progress regarding the use of her telepathy, and Xavier decided she was ready to begin her telekinesis training. Dr. McCoy had examined her again and attested that her cesarean wound was completely healed, granting her medical clearance for physical activities. Thus, that morning, the professor had a training session especially designed for the redhead.

Jean dressed in tight black leggings, a loose green hood and a pair of comfortable running shoes. After she was done feeding Rachel, she asked Ororo to watch her baby daughter and headed for the mansion's lower levels.

When the telepath entered the Danger Room, she saw Rogue waiting for her, looking all set for battle in her yellow and green uniform.

"Ready to rock, sugah?" The southern belle addressed her with a smirk.

"Oh shit," Jean murmured. She glanced up at the observation booth, from where Professor X, Nightcrawler and Cyclops were going to oversee her training. "Please tell me I'm not supposed to fight her," she shouted insecurely, knowing full well how strong Anna Marie was.

"Nein," Kurt's voice resonated through the sound system, "not today, at least. Today we're testing your tk control," he explained. He typed a command on the main computer, and suddenly a sliding metal door moved sideways to reveal a tennis ball launcher.

"Damnit. I've always hated tennis," the redhead complained.

"Keep yoah eyes open, Jean," she heard Anna's alert and had to jump aside as a ball almost hit her in the chest. Soon after, another one smacked her right thigh. "Ouch!"

Before the third ball could strike Jean's head, Rogue stepped in front of her and snatched the speedy object, crushing it in her hand. "Use yoah pahwers, girl!"

"Oh! Right," the telepath said, taking a deep breath and focusing her attention on the launcher's mouth. The machine rapidly shot another tennis ball, but this time Jean was able to telekinetically catch it midair. She released the ball, concentrating on the next one, and repeated the exercise another two hundred times until the machine became out of items to throw at her.

"Well done, Jean," Xavier complimented.

"Thanks, professor," she said panting, and glanced up. "Did I pass?"

Kurt chuckled on the microphone. "Not so fast, fräulein. Your next assignment is to not let you and Rogue get wet. Look up."

She did as she was told and saw a row of water balloons being dropped from the tall ceiling into their direction. Jean raised her hands and used telekinesis to get ahold of the first and second balloons, but soon realized she would never be precise enough to stop one after the other without accidentally popping them. 'Use you head,' she scolded herself. She succeeded to telekinetically grab the next three at once, bringing all five balloons to the ground together, but wasn't fast enough to capture the sixth before it hit the floor. It popped right next to Rogue, splashing water on the woman's feet.

"Arrgh! It's freezing cold!" Anna yelled. "C'mon Jean, I just fixed mah hair. Don't make me regret it!"

"Sorry," the redhead apologized and stared at the dropping balloons again, thinking. She had no idea how many there were left but concluded the only thing that could prevent them all from falling and popping was some sort of wide, malleable shield.

Jean shut her eyes and concentrated. She had never tried to mold telekinesis into an object before, but thought it was worth the try. She commanded her mind to produce a broad energy net five meters above her head, all the while imagining how the net would look like. When she opened her eyes again, there were at least two dozen water balloons being held in a pinkish net. None had popped, to Rogue's deep relief.

In the observation booth, the three men exchanged excited glances.

"That was a remarkable job, Jean," Professor X spoke into the microphone. "Now, before you dismantle your psychic net and bring the balloons down, watch your step, dear," he advised.

The telepath looked at Rogue, confused. "What does that mean?"

"Exactly what he said," Anna explained and took off to soar in the air.

Never losing her mental grip on the tk net, Jean glanced down and noticed that the floor below her feet was starting to fade. "Shit! Uh, Rogue?"

"Can't help ya', sugah. Remember… concentrate, and keep us dry."

The redhead hesitated. If she used her mutant skills to prevent her fall, the water balloons would drop. If she didn't, she would fall into what looked like a dark, bottomless pit. 'Better wet than dead,' she concluded, involving her body with telekinesis and propelling herself up in the air. Jean closed her eyes and waited for a water balloon rain, but it never came. Somehow, she had managed to split her focus and employ her powers in two different tasks simultaneously. She was telekinetically hovering in the air while holding the water balloons in her energy net. Her cheeks were flushed, and her forehead was covered in sweat - the mental exertion was too great.

"Danger Room, end simulation," Charles' satisfied voice echoed inside the room, and immediately the floor became whole again. Jean still managed to create a telekinetic cover over hers and Rogue's head, and only then ventured to dissolve the psychic net. The two women watched how the balloons impacted against the floor one after the other and splashed water all over it. It was only after the last balloon had plopped that she and Rogue landed back on the floor.

Kurt teleported into the Danger Room, taking Cyclops with him. "Zhis was an excellent first training session, fräulein."

"W-Was it?" Jean asked panting, her upper body bent forward and her hands resting on her knees. "It feels like… I'm totally… out of shape."

"Are you kidding?" She glimpsed up at the sound of Scott's voice. "You were amazing," he said, placing his right hand on her left shoulder.

"Thanks," the redhead responded, aligning her posture and unconsciously flashing him a smile. "It feels good to work out again, even if it's mainly psychic effort for me. I haven't been this sweaty in ages."

"Xavier will wanna meet us latah, Jean. We bettah hit the shawers," Rogue advised, motioning to the locker rooms.

"Right. We'll catch up with you guys later," she told Kurt and Scott and followed Anna into the women's lockers.

Once inside, Rogue undressed and turned on the hot water. The telepath did likewise and stepped under the shower.

"So, how does it feel to use yoah pawers like that?" Jean heard Anna Marie asking from the opposite shower.

"Good. Really good," she admitted. "I've never dreamed of using my tk that way."

"That energy net thing was very clevah. I mean, Logan told me ya' could throw objects around and stuff, but what ya' just did in there showed a total new level of control."

Jean closed her eyes for a moment, enjoying the sensation of hot water cascading over her tired body. "Did he… talk about me?"

"Logan?" Anna asked, receiving a single nod from the telepath. "Sometimes, yeah. Ya' know the ol' canuck ain't much of a talkah. But he did let somethings on ovah a six-pack or two."

"We've met in a bar, so… can't say I'm surprised," Jean shrugged and started shampooing her hair. "What else did he say?"

"It ain't so much what he said that matters, sugah… more like how he acted," Rogue tried to explain. "Right aftah the two of ya' met, Logan became very distracted. He failed three Danger Room sessions against the Cajun in a row. I swear to God, the man couldn't think straight," she laughed. "Ya' had him wrapped 'round yoah littl' fingah."

The redhead scoffed. "Not enough, apparently."

Anna Maria stopped washing her legs to look up at her opposite, one eyebrow raised. "Ya' know that Logan would be heah if he could, dontcha'? He'd nevah abandon his kid willingly."

"Actually, no, Rogue. I don't know that," Jean replied with a tinge of annoyance. "He wasn't exactly supportive when I told him I was pregnant."

"Oh, c'mon Jean. That's just 'cause he freaked out," the southern woman defended her friend. "He didn't know how t'deal with becoming a dad. But trust me, sugah, Logan's nevah left anyone behind. He wouldn't start with his own daughtah."

Jean became silent for a moment, not knowing what to make out of this information. Finally, she sighed and asked. "Do you think he's all right?"

"Yeah. I bet he's just hiding somewhere 'til the dust settles."

Ontario, Alpha Flight's Headquarters.

Wolverine threw his mask over the bed and headed for the bathroom. He turned on the faucet and splashed cold water on his face, hoping the thermal shock would bring some peace to his mind. Since he'd woken up that morning, he was getting a strange feeling in his guts… Like a premonition, a sense that something bad was about to happen. He used a towel to dry his face and walked back into the bedroom, sitting on the bed and looking downward at his feet. He then glanced at the cigar lying beside the cell phone on the wooden nightstand and grasped it, bringing it to his mouth. He scanned the room for his Zippo, failing to find it. "Fuck this," he muttered and tossed the cigar back on the nightstand, grabbing the phone instead. He quickly dialed the prick's number and stood up.

Logan paced restlessly around the room during all the four seconds it took Warren to answer the phone.

"Hello," he heard Warren's annoyed tone on the end of the line.

"What the hell took ya so long?" Wolverine growled, irritated.

"Some of us mortals actually have to work, Logan," Angel replied, and then raised his voice. "Is that a new number? What happened to the previous one?"

Logan could detect the hint of amusement in the blonde's intonation. "It's none of your business. How're Jeannie and Rach?"

"Straight to the point, huh? You're starting to sound like my business partners."

"Cut the crap, Worthington. Just tell me how the fuck they are."

"They're all right, man," Warren finally responded.

Wolverine let out a breath he didn't realize he was holding. "Good. What about Chuck and the others?"

"The professor's fine, and so is the team," Angel informed him. "What is it now, Logan? You haven't called in weeks. Don't tell me you're thinking about coming home for the holidays."

Wolverine narrowed his eyes. "Shut up and listen carefully, flyboy. Tell Chuck there's mutant resistance gatherin' up in North, dealin' with some local anti-mutant shit. And tell him and whoever's leadin' the team nowadays to stay alert."

"Why? Do you have any information about our enemies' plans? Because if you do, Logan, you better disclose them to me right now," Warren demanded in a stern voice.

"I don't know shit, Worthington. I'm just gettin' this… bad feelin'," he admitted, and sighed. "Keep an eye on Red for me."

"I will, but not for you. I need to go now, Logan, there's a meeting waiting for me. Call again if you have something useful to say."

Wolverine heard Angel hanging up and growled. "Asshole," he muttered, still feeling edgy. He sat down on the bed again, suddenly spotting the lighter lying on the floor behind the desk foot. He stood up and grabbed it, lighting up his cigar and taking a long, deep drag.

Maybe his luck was back, maybe there was nothing to be troubled about.

'Yeah, right.'

Manhattan, New York.

Later that afternoon, Angel decided to make a phone call to Charles Xavier.

"Professor?"

"Hello, Warren. How are you?" The telepath asked. He was alone at his studio's desk, checking the latest news on mutant affairs.

"I'm fine. I have an important matter to discuss with you, sir."

Charles closed his laptop. "What is it, son?"

The winged mutant cleared his throat. "Well, uh… A few hours ago, I happened to receive some intel… from an undisclosed source," he quickly added. "It tells me that there are mutants in the North resisting the persecutions. It appears that they've been reuniting to stand against local anti-mutant forces, just like a certain group in New York," he whispered, not daring to say the group's name in his office.

"It is reassuring to know that the X-Men are not alone… that there are others who share our convictions," Xavier stated, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Yes, but… that's not all. This person's also warned me that we should be more watchful in the next days," Angel said, fidgeting with the flap of his second cell phone. "I think we should intensify the mansion's defenses, professor."

"That might take a while, but it's certainly not impracticable. I'll talk to Forge," Charles told him, and then asked. "Tell me, Warren… By North, does your source mean Canada?"

"I believe so, sir."

Charles let out a small chuckle. "I can understand why he wants to keep his whereabouts a secret, Mr. Worthington. But tell Logan that, next time he wishes to send me a message, he can call me himself."

Angel's chin dropped, and he stuttered his next words. "Pro-Professor… Did you just read my mind through the phone?"

"Of course not, Warren. I just know my students," Xavier explained. "You stay right there in Manhattan, taking care of your business. If you need to speak to us, make a phone call. Don't try to come to Westchester… I fear someone might follow you here."

"What are you going to do, sir?"

"I'm telepathically calling in everyone for meeting, just as we speak. No one will leave this house until we've upgraded security."

Salem Center, New York.

"Tell me again why I am wasting my afternoon inside a car in this fucking suburb, Emma?"

"Because, Pierce, one of the X-Men will soon take a walk around these streets," the White Queen told him, her blue eyes searching for any familiar faces through the black SUV's side window.

"How can you be so sure?" The cyborg mutant asked from the driver's seat.

"Before her tragic death, Malice revealed that the X-Men lived somewhere near Salem Center. They are a bunch of provincial, no fashion-sense mutants, darling… Where else would they be shopping for Christmas?"

"Are you freaking nuts, Frost? You think we'll just end up spotting some mutant kid in yellow and blue spandex shopping around if we stay parked here all day?" The White Bishop asked, his eyes gleaming indignantly. "Only a spoiled woman like you could have such a shallow, idiotic ide… Wait. That green hair… isn't that-?"

"Lorna Dane? Yes, it is. And the man carrying the bags is Alex Summers," the White Queen confirmed. Not the Summers she was hoping to find, but the younger brother would have to do it for now. "What were you saying, Pierce? A shallow, idiotic idea?" She regarded him with a cocky grin.

"All right, all right… What do you want me to say, Frost? That you were right?"

"I want you to acknowledge that I am always right, darling," she tapped his mechanical arm condescendingly. "Now, if it's not too much to ask of you, be a dear and follow the lovely couple home."

The White Bishop turned the car engine on and followed the X-Man's vehicle from a secure distance. Once Alex's car turned into Graymalkin Lane, they parked the SUV.

Emma gazed at the old, well-kept mansion through its iron fences, a malicious smile forming on her lips. She picked up her phone and made a call.

"Shaw, I've found them."

Xavier's School for the Gifted Youngsters, Salem Center, New York.

It was nine p.m. and Jean had just fed Rachel and put her to sleep. She decided to spend the rest of the night in her room, killing the hours with a good novel until it was breastfeeding time again. The redhead had barely laid on her bed when she heard a soft knock on the wood. She glanced sideways, noticing how the doorknob twisted and a familiar figure came into view.

"Hey Ro," her tone was low as to not wake her daughter.

"Are you busy?" Ororo whispered from the doorway.

Jean shook her head. "Not really. I'm actually bored in here. Why?"

"Look what I found in Logan's bedroom," she told her friend with a wicked smile, holding a half-drank bottle of Beluga in her right hand.

The telepath stood up and crossed the bedroom towards the door. "What am I supposed to do with vodka?" She asked in mild annoyance, only then noticing that Lorna and Anna Marie were waiting in the hall outside her room.

"Well… Obviously, you're only going to watch while we drink it," Polaris said.

Jean regarded the women with a suspicious grin. "Is this what I think it is?"

"Girls naght in, sugah. The professah asked us not t'leave the place, but that doesn't mean we ladies can't have a littl' fun," Rogue explained.

The redhead glanced back at her daughter's crib - Rachel was sleeping peacefully and probably wouldn't wake up in the next few hours. "All right. Just give me a minute," she went back into the room to turn on the baby monitor and put a robe over her nightgown.

Jean followed the women across the silent mansion halls and into the rec room. As they occupied the armchairs and couch, Ororo locked the double doors behind them. "That will keep Bobby and Remy away," she stated.

"Ya' forget that Gambit can pick up doors," Rogue remarked, taking the first gulp from the bottle of vodka.

"Are you telling this from experience?" Lorna teased her. "Did he ever try to break into your room?"

"Maybe," Anna replied with a small grin.

"By the way, what's the story between the two of you?" Ororo asked as the bottle was passed on to her.

"It's… complicated. We've fooled 'round a few times but… ya' know that mah pawers ain't exactly fit for relationships."

"That must be tough," Jean commented in sympathy.

"Yeah, well… I'm used to it by naw. I mean, I can control it for like, ten seconds… Then it's Cajun brain soup."

The other three women laughed at the southern's remark, and Rogue decided it was her turn to ask questions. "What 'bout ya' two ladies? When are yoah bettah-halves gonna pop the question?"

"What better-half? I haven't seen Forge for more than two hours in the past damn week," Ororo told them, her voice sounding a little tipsy. "Someday, I'm afraid I'll enter the garage and witness him making out with that damn conduit."

"Oh, give him a break, Ro. You knew the guy was a workaholic way before you started dating him," Jean pointed a finger at her friend.

"Yeah, well…" Storm's words trailed off as she took another gulp.

"Hey, it's my turn," Lorna pulled the bottle from the wind-rider's mouth, receiving a grunt in return. "Alex and I are still too young to get married. Although we've been living together for two years, I'd rather we waited another couple of years to make it official."

"Smart girl," they heard Jean mumbling.

"C'mon, sugah, don't be a sourpuss," Rogue admonished the redhead. "Yoah relationship with Logan went down the drain, all right, we get it. It doesn't mean there ain't love out there waiting for ya'."

"Yeah, Jean. Don't give up on romance yet," Lorna said and let out a hiccup. "I'm sure you'll meet someone else."

"Sure. Because it's so easy to find a decent guy who doesn't care that I'm a single mom AND a mutant," the redhead responded, rolling her eyes.

Polaris' eyes suddenly widened. "Oh! You should date Scott, Jean! That would make us sisters-in-law!" She shrieked, clapping her hands excitedly.

"Wha-What?" The telepath's cheeks turned red.

"He's hot," Anna added absently, staring in disappointment at the bottom of the now empty bottle.

"Totally," Ororo nodded slowly. "That jaw, that six-pack… You should at least bed him, Jean."

"Ro!" The redhead scolded, outraged.

"What? Don't tell me you don't find him attractive." At this point, Storm's voice was sounding more than groggy.

"Yeah, Jean. I've seen ya' two exchanging glances in the Danger Room," Rogue said, adding fuel to the fire. "And ya're always chatting 'round the mansion."

"We're friends!" The telepath defended, her face and neck burning hot from embarrassment. "We're both parents to small children. We talk about them."

"You should be talking about getting laid, Jeannie. You're in desperate need of a good fuck," Ororo opined.

"Okay, you've definitely had enough alcohol for the night," Jean determined and stood up. "Come on, ladies, it's time for you to go to bed," she said, shooing her three companions towards the door.

"Ohhh, I'm so going to regret this tomorrow," Lorna spoke as she stumbled over the staircase on the way to her bedroom.

xxxxx

On the next day, as expected, Jean was the first woman to get up. It was Christmas Eve, and after her morning routine was done, she descended to the ground floor with Rachel. When she entered the lab, Beast was already inside, his massive furry body curved over the tiled white bench.

"Good morning, Jean," he greeted her with a smile.

"Morning, Hank," she replied, placing Rachel's stroller near the wall and gathering her protective equipment.

The redhead sat a couple of meters away from him and started working on the antidote production, repeating the steps McCoy had showed her a week ago. After the samples were finished, he would analyze them on the computer to certify their purity and efficacy, and only then Jean would store them in the freezer. Since the beginning of the work more than six months ago, Hank had managed to produce about four thousand samples, but he calculated they would need at least five thousand to prevent all mutants in America from losing their powers if the 'cure' was ever released into every water reservoir in the country. Beast was even hoping that his ingenuous antidote would be able to revert the cure's effect on those who had already been submitted to the vaccine. Well, that was just a guess, since he had no current means of proving it. Only Scott had been exposed to small doses of the 'cure', and Hank doubted the man would be willing to lose his acquired control over his deadly optic beams in order to test a theory. But if Edna McCoy had ever taught him something about life, it was to never cease dreaming.

The pair of doctors spent the next hours working in silence, Jean stopping now and then to feed Rachel or change her diapers. It was way past lunch time when someone interrupted them.

"Hey guys, I brought you some sandwiches and sodas," Cyclops said, holding a tray in one hand and Nathan's tiny hand in the other. He was wearing his X-Men blue and yellow uniform. "I know you two are busy, but you still need to eat at some point."

"Thank you, fearless leader," Hank replied, accepting the tray and placing it over a table. "I'm afraid Dr. Grey and I were so concentrated on the job that we lost track of time."

"Yes, thanks, Scott," Jean said, standing up from her seat. She suddenly remembered last night's gathering and blushed when their eyes met. She had to admit, though, that he did have a great jawline. And his uniform did nothing to conceal his toned abs… 'Get a grip, girl,' she thought to herself.

A child's giggle snapped her out of her daydream. She looked down and saw Nate letting go of his dad's hand and running towards her, his steps short and unsteady. Before the toddler could fall face first to the floor, Jean bent down and picked him up in her arms. "Hey, sweetie," she placed a kiss on his cheek, receiving a tight hug in return.

"That was an impressive run, my young friend," Hank complimented Nathan with a kind grin. "To what do we owe the pleasure of such a special visit?" He asked Cyclops, referring to the baby.

"The professor has scheduled a Danger Room session with the two teams to begin in twenty minutes," he explained, turning to face Jean. "I was wondering if you could keep an eye on Nate for me?"

"Sure," she told him, caressing the boy's back.

"Great, thanks. I'll bring down his toys and playpen," he said and smiled, noticing how his son clang to the woman's neck.

After Scott had returned with Nathan's things, Jean gave the toddler a bottle and put him inside the playpen, right beside Rachel's stroller. The boy soon fell asleep, allowing the redhead to go back to work.

Another hour and a half passed, the winter sky having already turned dark. Hank was humming in front of the freezer, counting through the thick glass window the number of samples they had produced that day. "I wonder what our Cajun cook has planned for Christmas dinner this year," he said. Oddly, Jean didn't comment. He looked at the redhead, who was sitting still at the bench, and noticed the frown on her face. "Is there something wrong?"

"I-I don't know," Jean replied, her tone edgy. "I'm just getting this… feeling… like there's someone watching us," she told him. Then she closed her eyes and concentrated, amplifying her telepathy to scan the mansion's surroundings. Her eyes widened. "Oh my God, Hank, watch out!"

The telepath's warning was followed by a violent explosion, and Beast witnessed how the lab wall that faced the backyard was suddenly destroyed. In pure reflex, he shut his eyes and put his arms over his head to protect himself from the debris; however, none hit him. The blast caused his hearing to momentarily fail, preventing him from realizing that a series of explosions were taking place all along the mansion's perimeter. Hank's heart was beating fast, and he carefully opened his eyes. Thick smoke filled the lab, making it impossible for him to determine what had caused the explosion. Nonetheless, he did catch sight of a mane of red laying on the floor. His eyes followed the crimson tresses until they noticed the trail of blood dripping from the female's scalp.

"Jean!"