Logan gave an irritated sigh as he sped his Harley through the dense forest terrain that surrounded him.
"Okay, bub, that's the third time we passed that tree. Are you sure we're going the right way?" he demanded into his communicator. Wolverine, void of a helmet or any protective gear whatsoever, swerved his Harley beside Scott's recently waxed Porsche 911 Carrera Turbo, a careful purchase made the week before.
"I checked the map twice before we left," Scott said intolerantly. He made a sharp right onto an unpaved road cut between the jagged mountains of Northern Pennsylvania. "And Storm just confirmed that they were heading in our direction."
Wolverine heaved a low growl, but decided not to argue. Normally, Logan would have serenely smirked before pulling a fancy trick on the motorcycle that technically didn't belong to him, or reminded Cyclops of any number of embarrassing instances from the past. His terrible landing on Liberty Island. His inability to keep track of any of his motor vehicles. How he looked more like a model for GQ than he ever would a 'cyclops.'
But ever since Alkali Lake, things had been different. Jean and the selfless way she left them had sent a shadow of grief over the entire school, and no one, not even Wolverine, felt her absence as deeply as Scott. The rest of them – Storm, Nightcrawler, Rogue and Iceman, and the Professor – treated him gingerly because they wanted to convey their sympathy and concern for him. Logan harassed him less for different reasons.
Cyclops had bottled up all his love, all his hate, anger, grief, and regret deep within his being to a place he refused to revisit. He didn't sleep. He spent less and less time among them, preferring late night rides on his motorcycle to friendly company – as if smiling or laughing without Jean there would mean he wasn't miserable. It would only be a matter of time before he exploded under the pressure, and when he did, Logan wanted to be nowhere near.
He held to this practice for several reasons. Though Jean was gone, while she was on earth, she had made her commitment to Scott exceedingly clear. The last thing he wanted was to cause Scott any more pain than he already had to endure. She would not approve, and if it was the only service left for Logan to provide for her, he would.
But most importantly, Logan couldn't think of a worse candidate for Scott to break down in front of than himself.
The unmistakable voice of Kurt Wagner came over the intercom, shirking Logan from his thoughts. "You should have taken somevun else."
High above them in the navigator's seat of the X-Jet, there was a hint of fear in Kurt's tone. "I vill only schare zem off," he said, referring to the kidnapped children that would be present.
With Kurt, Scott displayed a contrasting patience. "I wouldn't worry about it. We always scare them off at first."
The smooth voice of the Ororo Monroe had a hint of banter as she came on over a frequency inside the Porsche. "Especially Logan and those charming sideburns of his."
Smirking, Wolverine deftly navigated the dirt roads before him, which were terribly unfit for a motorcycle. "And throwing bolts of lightning with those albino eyes of yours is less frightening?" he challenged.
"Just keep you eyes open for those kids," she told him. "Or I'll direct one with your name on it right onto that Harley you're riding."
Scott offered an appreciative smile that Ororo didn't see and responded back to Kurt. "Besides," he told him. "We'll need your skills." The destroyed house in the background of the newscast flashed in front of his mind. "We still don't know exactly what happened in Philadelphia."
Kurt's head bobbed up and down, understanding what that meant. Preoccupied, he bit his lip. What if he missed? What if they attacked? What if he couldn't protect himself or his friends?
Out of habit, he reached into his pocket to grasp his unique, well-worn rosary beads for comfort. He needed to learn to trust himself, and he needed to trust Him if he was ever going to use his abilities for the good of his savior.
Glancing over at Nightcrawler, Storm placed a soft hand on his forearm, shirking him out of prayer.
"It'll be fine," she quietly reassured him.
At the simple gesture, his tail flipped, and Nightcrawler sent her back a teethy grin that made her smile affectionately.
Just then, Storm's trained eyes spotted the two vehicles they had been searching for from the X-Jet.
"Okay, I've got them," she said suddenly. "A yellow sports car and a Ford van just made a right turn off the road about two miles in front of you."
Logan looked over to Cyclops through the Porsche's side window. "Let's move."
Focusing on the road in front of him, Scott Summers sped after them, leaving a cloud of dust in his wake. The 911 Carrera Turbo could go up to 180 miles per hour and handled like a dream. But the mutants had proven themselves to be more then ready for battle, and the Blaize twins were frightened teenagers whose movements would be unpredictable.
He accelerated forward, leaving Storm above him and Wolverine a few paces behind. If he hurried, he could reach them before any more damage was done.
