I nodded blankly. I wanted to tell her that I loved her. I wanted to say it more than anything else in the world. But the words stuck in my throat like honey; I choked and gagged on them, but they wouldn't come out. Finally, I gave up and followed her orders. I stood in the alleyway below, hidden from sight behind a dumpster, my eyes never leaving Jenny's slender body.

She was able to make it to the roof unnoticed; the streets below her (which I could not see from where I was standing) were filled with angry members of the Brotherhood, the Hellfire Club, and the X-Men. The battle took to the air once Storm noticed Jenny standing there. I saw Storm rise, hovering above Jenny, her milky white eyes glowing. I shuddered involuntarily. She floated there, suspended in the air, her head tilted the way it always is when she's brewing a storm. She was in the exact same position she'd been in when she nearly killed me back on Liberty Island.

Maybe I'd deserved it, maybe I'd been being a bastard (I had, after all, been trying to kill her), oh hell, I'd been following orders from a lunatic. Nevertheless, she'd fired a jolt of lightning at me, and I'd lost consciousness. When lightning strikes you, it's a bizarre pain-filled experience, sort of like being doused with boiling water or covered in subzero ice. You shake uncontrollably, so much that your teeth rattle and you can't see at all, the world's just a shimmery gray entity. The noise is the absolute worst, right alongside the smell. It's a perpetual, harsh buzzing that fills your head and never fully leaves; I've woken up in the middle of the night with that same endless buzzing in my ears. And the smell - oh God, the smell of your own burning flesh is enough to make you wish you were dead.

For a minute, I thought that Storm was planning on striking Jenny with lightning, but I was mistaken. She wanted to swoop down and grab Jenny and fly her to 'safety' (X headquarters). Jenny, however, was holding an icy metal instrument of cruelty and pain, thus keeping Strom at bay.

"Put the gun down, Jenny."

"No."

"Jenny, we don't want to hurt you."

"I don't want to be an X-Man."

"No one's going to make you be one," said Storm, floating closer, holding out her hands. I thought I heard the dull click of the gun being cocked. The ruckus below Jenny had stopped, all eyes were on her, all necks craned to get a good look at the action. "Jenny," continued Storm, "we want to help you."

"Cool it, weather witch!" There was a brief flash of red as the Scarlet Witch rose, soaring up alongside Storm. "The kid wants to stay with us; she's a member of the Brotherhood."

"And she's always welcome in the Hellfire Club!" shouted Emma, her curvy white-clad body shooting upwards.

"I'm no longer a member of the Brotherhood!" screamed Jenny. Storm advanced, her fear of the gun wearing off too quickly for her own good. "Get away from me!" Jenny aimed and fired, sending a bullet into Storm's shoulder. I heard Storm screech, and she began to fall. Thunder popped and lightning streaked across the sky; I shuddered again.

Much to my surprise, the Scarlet Witch came to Storm's aid. There was a look of horror on her face, horror and disgust. She stared at Jenny, silently asking her why she'd shot one of her fellow mutants. To shoot a human was all right, even acceptable, by her standards, but to fire at a mutant was unforgivable. She stared at Jenny, her muscular arms wrapped firmly around Storm's body.

Emma hovered near them, staring at Jenny, her mouth open. She's witnessed Jenny's transformation, and she was terrified by it. After all, only moments ago Jenny had stumbled into her apartment, shivering and panicky because there was a tracking device on her and now . . . now Jenny was wielding a gun and unafraid to shoot. Emma turned around in midair and returned to the ground, falling like a star.

Jenny cocked the gun again. In all the confusion and fear from down below, no one noticed. I could hear voices rising, asking Storm if she was all right, demanding to know what was up with Jenny, wondering why Jenny had quit the Brotherhood, and if it was true that Mortimer Toynbee, aka the Toad, was alive. All of the questions went unanswered and were silenced by a second shot. Jenny had fired into the crowd, to her left. I could hear a thick twisting scream - not a scream of pain, but one of absolute shock and panic.

"Oh my God . . . "

"An ambulance! We need an ambulance!"

Jenny ignored the crowd's reactions, turning around to face me and letting the gun fall from her hand. For a moment, our eyes made contact. No, Jenny, I wanted to scream, no, don't do this. I couldn't. My mouth wouldn't open, it was as though it had been nailed shut. Jenny closed her eyes and jumped. She fell silently and swiftly. The crowd erupted once more, and Emma darted out from around the side of the building, zooming upwards, trying to catch her. Her efforts, though valiant, failed. Jenny hit the ground with a loud sickening thud.

Emma screamed. She hovered there in midair screaming like a banshee while several other figures rose above her in the air. Magneto was one of them; he was carrying Mystique in his arms, zipping towards the nearest hospital. I couldn't see her very well, but there was blood all over her face. I shook my head; she'd been shot in the head, there wasn't much hope for her.

I knelt by Jenny, scooping her lifeless body up into my arms. There was a small cut on her left cheek, but I ignored it, sliding my fingers along her neck, looking for a pulse. Her neck was smooth, her veins unmoving . . . she was dead. My breath hitched in my throat, and I held her closer, pressing my face against the side of her head. Her hair smelled faintly like soap and Old Spice - she'd been using my shampoo. Oh God, I thought to myself, here's a girl who was really stuck on you and you never told her how much you loved her and now she's dead.

"I love you, Jenny," I said, my words falling on her dead deaf ears, "oh God, I love you." My voice cracked; I must've sounded like a kid hitting puberty. "I'm so sorry."

"Oh my God . . . " I looked up and saw Storm through my tears. She was leaning on the Scarlet Witch, surrounded by the other three unwounded X- Men. "This isn't possible . . . "

"You didn't kill me," I said, choking on the words. "You put me in a coma for three weeks, but you didn't kill me."

"But . . . Jenny, she said - "

"Mystique lied to her. Mystique told her I was dead."

"Mein Gott . . . " Nightcrawler was on his knees beside me, staring at Jenny. His bright yellow eyes were wide with sorrow and shock. He reached out, running his three-fingered hand along Jenny's shoulder as if trying to wake her. He shook his head sadly, finally allowing his hand to drop, then made the Sign of the Cross and bowed his head. I turned away from him, listening to him pray in German, and I felt a slight twitch beneath my finger.

I looked down at Jenny; my fingers were still pressed against the side of her neck, searching for a pulse. I felt the twitch again, that unmistakable twitch of blood flowing through a vein - a pulse. I struggled to hide my surprise - it was hard to do, but the X-Men didn't seem to be paying any attention to me; Nightcrawler was absorbed in prayer, Scarlet Witch had flown Storm off to the hospital, Cyclops was staring down at his hands, and Wolverine hadn't taken his eyes off of Jenny.

"What should we do with her?" he asked suddenly.

Cyclops turned to him, then looked down at me. "We'll bury her," he offered.

I shook my head; she wasn't dead. She'd been right - she was unable to die. She was coming back to life in my arms, I just couldn't tell any of them that, and I couldn't let them hold or touch her. "No," I said, rising with her in my arms, "I'll take her."

"What're you gonna do with her?" asked Wolverine, stepping towards me, snarling.

"Cremate her," I lied, taking a step back. Nightcrawler rose, positioning himself between myself and Wolverine.

"Ve should go and see Storm," he said. "He vill take care of Jenny," he pointed to me.

"OK, come on."

The minute they'd disappeared from sight, I turned and bolted. I was somehow able to find my way back to the Brotherhood's headquarters. Memories of the Red District and its surrounding neighborhoods flooded my mind, guiding me down side streets and through alleyways that shortened the trek home.

Jenny and I were the only ones in the compound, aside from the pyro kid; he was asleep in the kitchen next to an empty coffee mug that was caked in white Valium residue. Bloody stupid fuck, I thought as I darted into my room, closing the door behind me, and laid Jenny down on the bed. She was breathing visibly now, her chest rising and falling rhythmically. I knelt beside the bed, touching the side of her face, staring in wonder as her eyelids fluttered and she opened her eyes.

"It worked," she said thickly. All I could do was nod. She smiled. "What now?"

"We're going to England," I said, switching my computer on and pulling my credit card out of my wallet. The plane tickets drained my American bank account, but that didn't matter; I still had an active and lucrative account in England.

"Hopping across the pond?" asked Jenny, faking a British accent. I glanced back at her. She was sitting up, her head tilted to the side, smiling cutely. I couldn't help but laugh. She stood up and stretched.

"We have two hours," I said, looking at the clock. It was going on five a.m., and our flight was scheduled to take off at eight.

"I'll pack." She glided from the room, heading across the hall. I had no real need to pack; Jer was keeping track of all my stuff (not that I had much), but I found myself emptying my vest's pockets and putting on a sweatshirt. Jenny returned moments later carrying a backpack.

"No weapons," I said.

"I know." I nodded. She was staring at me, leaning on the doorframe. "Mortimer?"

"Yes?"

"Did you mean it when you said you loved me?"

I nodded, approaching her. I knelt before her, staring up at her, clinging to her. "I love you so much," I whispered.

"You do?"

"Yes."

"I . . . but I failed - "

"No, no you didn't." I felt my grip on her tighten, "you didn't fail, and I'm not going to hit you. I swear, I'll never hurt you again, and I'm sorry for all the times I ever did. I'm so sorry - "

"It's OK - "

"No. No it isn't. Jenny, I love you, and I'm never going to hurt you again. Ever."

She was quiet for a moment, then she tugged me to my feet. We stared at each other. I put my arms around her, holding her close, and she kissed me. It was like the kiss we'd shared on the fire escape earlier that night - serious, loving, meaningful. I would've been content if it had lasted forever, but she pulled away from me all together, picking up her backpack. I threw a glance back at my bed. For a brief instant - an instant even briefer than the kiss - I wanted her. The year I'd spent without her and all the horny perverted desires for her I'd had within that year flashed before my mind's eye. Everything I'd wanted to do with her (and done with Jeremy) . . . I knew that we were on the run, that the rest of the Brotherhood could come back at any given moment, that the pyromaniac could wake up at any given second, and I still wanted to do her. I looked away from her, ashamed, and picked a sweater up off the back of my chair.

"There's something I should tell you," I said, thinking of Jeremy and becoming (much to my embarrassment) hornier.

"Tell me on the plane, OK?"

I nodded, though I wasn't sure if she'd want to come with me if she knew about Jeremy. But dammit, what the hell was I supposed to do? I couldn't leave her here - the Brotherhood would kill her, the X-Men couldn't protect her - she just wasn't safe in the States. But would she want to stay with me after I told her about Jer? What would she think? What would she say? I pondered this, wracking my brain for possible solutions to this problem. I knew plenty of mutants in England - Jer's older brother lived in Kent - or maybe the Ice Gang or the Hellions would take her in if she wanted to join them. By the time the cab got to the airport, I had made up my mind: if Jenny didn't want to stay with me, I'd find a place for her to stay.

We went through the usual airport rigmarole - bring frisked by airport security, weird looks from other passengers, overpriced magazines that we didn't bother buying but looked - in silence. We boarded the plane, sitting side by side in coach. I was silently thanking God that this scheme was working and we were still alive. There was no doubt in my mind that the Brotherhood wanted both our heads; we would only be truly safe in England. The Fire Gang would protect us from them, should they venture across the Atlantic in search of us - that was unlikely, seeing as Magneto had more allies in the States than in Europe.

"What did you want to tell me?" asked Jenny. I took a deep breath, and told her about Jeremy. She listened, staring intently at me, her head tilted towards me.

"If you don't want to be with me, that's all right," I said when I'd finished, "I can find somewhere for you to stay."

Jenny shook her head. "I'll stay with you," she whispered.

"Really?" She nodded. "But I . . . I cheated on you . . . "

"I know." She hugged me, nestling against my shoulder. "But you saved my life tonight, and besides, I think I love you."

I kissed the top of her head, not knowing what else to do or say. I could feel her breathing slow slightly as she nodded off. I felt my own eyelids grow heavy as thoughts continued to swirl around in my head. My sleep was uneasy; I'd only been gone for 24 hours, maybe less, but I wondered if the Fire Gang had moved on. Were they still up near Kent, or did they head somewhere else in my absence? Jenny and I were rudely awakened by a flight attendant some time later. The woman - a brown-haired human by the looks of her - was poking me with a rolled-up newspaper.

"We've landed," she said curtly, "we're in London."

"Thank you," I said, leading Jenny off of the plane and out of the airport.

Before I'd left with Mystique, I'd left my bike with a mutual friend. Her name was Cyndi, and she, like Jer, was 'queer as a three-dollar-bill.' She was an ex-member of the Hellions; a bike accident forced her to quit, but she was still on good terms with all the mutant biker gangs. She wasn't home, but her garage was open, and my bike was still there. She'd left a note on the seat - the Fire Gang would be staying near Kent (where I'd left them) for a week or so, and she herself was visiting an old lover in Manchester. I scribbled a brief note for her before helping Jenny onto the back of the bike and tearing off.

Jenny clung to me, her grip like a vise. She was wearing my helmet; it was too big for her, and covered her head like a bucket. I was pretty sure that Jer had a spare helmet, and if he didn't, then another member of the Fire Gang would. It was very rare that they even wore helmets, but it was not uncommon for them to carry one in their backpacks. I slowed down as I approached the campsite, and the gang looked up at me. They were seated in a circle, divvying up cash from their most recent heist - which must've been last night.

"The Terrible Toad King returns!" called a lean telekinetic fellow named Rick.

"How was America?" asked an Irish lad who's name escaped me but could fly.

"And who's the lady?" asked Jer, grinning. I knew that he knew who it was - Jenny.

"This," I said, parking the bike and helping Jenny down from it. I wrapped my arm around her, and she took the helmet off, shaking her head and looking around with widely curious eyes. "Is Jenny. She's our newest member." I was staring directly at the gang's leader, a tallish blue-eyed gent named David who could lift heavy objects. He nodded.

"Can she fight?" he asked, running his gloved hand through his spiked blonde hair.

"Like a fucking wildcat," said Jenny. She was grinning.

"Finally, a bird with a sense of humor!" said David. "She stays." He turned to the rest of the gang, his hands on his hips, "and she'd Mort's, so keep your hands off her or he'll cut them off . . . and I'll help."

I glanced at Jenny. The threat was really unnecessary; the Fire Gang wasn't as sleazy as some of England's other gangs. Other members had had girlfriends who'd traveled with us on occasion, and, come to think of it, David had given them the exact same rule - if she isn't yours, don't touch her.

Jenny squeezed my hand, resting her head on my shoulder. I looked down at her, feeling whole again.