I tried the Avengers first. Their robot secretary told me that they were off helping rescue some children from a massive fire in Manhattan. I thanked her and shut down the link.

My feelings threatened to boil up and overwhelm me. I squeezed my eyes shut and tried to recapture some of the hope from my dreams. Someone had been sending them to me. Someone knew we were in trouble. I had to believe they would notice we were finally free and would be available to us.

Jean came into the room, dressed in her yellow and green uniform, her wedding band bright on her ring finger. She was wearing her engagement ring, a hollowed-out spent bullet that Logan had made for her. She hadn't worn it since Mastermind took us over. "Raised anyone yet?"

I took in a big breath of air and smiled. "No, but I've left a message with the Avengers. I was going to see if any X-men communicators were on-line other than our own next."

"Good." She leaned over the controls. "Try channels two and four first."

"Why those?" I activated channel two as I asked.

She twisted her hands together nervously and sat next to me. "Two is Emma Frost's, four is Hank McCoy's. She has additional firepower from the Academy, and he has the technological and tactical know-how to get us out of this mess."

I waited for a response. Logan came in, a mass of tension, and stood behind me. Jean's fingers clenched on the arms of her chair. The words finally came up on the screen, "Unable to locate communicator device."

"Damn," she murmured.

I sought number four, then, pulse pounding. The door opened and we all jerked around. Rogue backed up a step, eyes wide, hands extended. "Sorry," she said defensively.

I relaxed and turned to the screen. Jean put her right hand over her heart. Logan grunted, "Leave it open."

"All right." She put the doorstop under it and sat by my other side. "Got anyone yet?"

"I sincerely hope so." I waited, hardly breathing, hoping against hope that Hank, that anyone, would answer.

A wonderful, beautiful blue face looked anxiously at us. Hank McCoy was indeed there, glasses pushed up onto his head, wearing his usual black body armor. It was so good to see someone else at last! "Storm? Everyone? Is that really you?"

I felt everyone else relax and I took the time to look at him, glad that he was there. "Yes, Hank. Were you the one sending the message?"

"In a manner of speaking. Our mutual acquaintance Danielle Moonstar was truly the one with the inspiration. I merely created the devices which communicated with your thoughts in your dreams." He frowned. "Who spoke to you at the end of your last dream, Ororo?"

I blinked. "Kurt, Remy, Logan, and Jean."

His face and body relaxed a little. "Good."

"Hank, why didn't you get us out of here faster? Why didn't you send all of us these dreams?" Jean's pain was echoed by the others in the room, including Remy and Scott, who had just arrived. Logan's claws were extended, but he remained standing behind me for the moment.

He sighed. "My friends, I cannot do everything. We tried several assaults on the mansion after we realized that something was wrong. Each one ended up with you, frankly, handing us our heads. We did not want to risk killing you to bring you out."

Shock, dismay, and anger blazed through the room. I tried to speak, but the words got stuck. We had attacked our own people, trying to rescue us?

"Is everyone all right now?" Rogue quivered and Remy came up behind her, rubbing her shoulders gently.

Hank frowned. "I believe we should continue this conversation in person. I do not wish to distress you at this time and seeing that one member of the Hellfire Club has been controlling all of you so thoroughly, I do not entirely trust communications that are not face to face. Let us meet at the Academy to speak further and plan our strategies. McCoy out."

His face vanished from the screen. My heart sank. We might get less help than I had thought from our teammates. Jean was crying. We all remained in place, frozen in our distress.

Logan spoke first. "Suppose those attacks by those demons last month weren't really demons." He was trying to sound natural, but the horror he felt made his efforts futile.

Jean fell to the floor, sobbing. I knelt to hold her and tried to take control. "Scott, you and Remy get your motorcycle and head to the Academy first. Logan, go let Kurt know what we have discovered. Rogue, pick a car from the pool and get it ready for us. I will stay here and help Jean recover enough to make the journey."

Scott left without a question. Remy gave Rogue's right shoulder a final pat and followed him, his usual jaunty gait slowed and stifled. Rogue had nearly made it to the door when Logan snarled at me. "Why are you giving all these orders here? Who are you to decide?" She turned and nearly spoke, then ran from the room.

I held Jean's head in my lap and stroked her hair, trying to calm down. "Because someone has to keep what's left of us together. Are you going to take the lead?" I started burning with anger, shredding my self-control. "Are you, the epitome of tact, going to make sure that we can survive to meet up with Hank and get our revenge? Or are you, at the earliest opportunity, going to murder one of our teammates, who is in as much pain as you?

"Look at her." I roughly turned Jean toward him. "Just look at what this has done to her. Do you want to have her be like this forever? Then keep it up, Logan. Keep on trying to destroy our dream, our family. Or help her. Help us. Do what it takes to get the bastards who did this, even though your heart's breaking."

His eyes locked on Jean, who was sobbing pitifully and wiping her tears on my cloak. His face gentled and he touched her face. "Jeannie." He looked up at me. "You go tell the elf what's up. I'm stayin' here with my wife."

I nodded and swallowed. "Good. I'll go talk to Kurt." If Logan was going to face his pain, I had to face mine. He tenderly lifted Jean from my lap and held her against his chest, whispering in her ear. Her arms closed about him and she smiled through her tears.

I arose from my knees and walked out the door reluctantly. What the consequences would be, I did not know, but I worried they would not be good.