AN: Short chapter, I know. But I wanted to get it out there as soon as possible. Thanks to all of you who have reviewed over the whole process of this story. There's only about one chapter left, then I'm going to get started on the next installment.


Chapter 33: The Elasticity of Time


Brennan changed the direction of the jets emanating from his hands and was relieved to find that they weren't bounced of the invisible field. He saw the neighbor's green lawn, and tried to direct their descent to the area, hoping to avoid anymore trees; he could already feel blood trickling down his face from a cut on his temple, no doubt courtesy of the maple tree. He could still feel the heat at his back and couldn't help but wonder if Jesse had been right, or if he had left his friend to die.

The ground was approaching quickly, and Brennan did his best to control the force and direction of the jets in an effort to control their descent, but before he knew it, his feet hit the ground, and found himself automatically rolling his body in an effort to absorb some of the impact. Seconds later, he had come to a complete stop and he lay still, his body in a half tuck and lying on his left side. Gingerly, he drew himself up onto his knees, taking stock and relieved to find that nothing seemed to be broken. As he drew himself to his feet, he saw the girls had done the same. Shalimar came over to his side, brushing grass off her jeans. Lexa was rising to her feet slowly, already favoring her left foot.

"Well, we're alive. That's good," Shalimar said.

Brennan heard her, but didn't respond. His gaze was already focused back on the burning building. Come on, brother…

"Look at that," Shalimar said. "The generator must have survived long enough to control energy from the blast somehow. It almost went straight up. The neighbors' houses should be fine as long as those trees don't spread the fire." Realization then seemed to dawn on her all at once. "Brennan…," she said softly, fearfully, as she took in his intense focus and still features. And realized that one of them wasn't here. "…where's Jesse."

Lexa's hand grasped at Shalimar's shoulder. "He stayed behind…" Her voice was strained and her eyes flickered and tensed. Shalimar put her own arm around the taller woman's waist. "There was no other way to lighten the load. We didn't feel the phase because there wasn't one. He doesn't have that kind of control over his powers. I knew that... I should have known. I should have caught it. I shouldn't have let him."

She turned and looked up at Brennan, whose gaze was still searching the inferno. "That's what you guys were talking about, wasn't it."

Brennan bit his lip and nodded. "He told me he was going to let go. He told me so my balance wouldn't be thrown off. He said he could mass through it; that he can move when he's massed. Where is he? He should be out by now, right?"

Neither Shalimar nor Lexa answered. Instead, they joined his vigil, watching the flames.


.

Intense moments usually pass so fast that you barely remember it happening, or so slow that you remember every thought, every fear and every instant.

For Jesse it had always been the later. Every one of his actions was deliberate and he always knew exactly what was happening and why he was reacting the way he was. This time was no different.

The world seemed to slow down, and what was surely only 10 or 15 seconds in real time felt like hours. He felt the hairs lifting on the back of his neck as Brennan's powers charged. In his mind, he could visualize the countdown on the timer; when the clock read two seconds left, Brennan let loose. Jesse closed his eyes, and let his hands slip away from Brennan's shoulders. In the same instant, he controlled his breathing, letting the air flow through his lungs in the way it needed to. Opening his eyes, he saw the blue jets of energy surging from Brennan's hands as his three friends escaped.

He massed. The familiar feeling of cold lead coursing though his veins, spreading outward from his chest, overtook him. It was almost as if he could feel each molecule hardening, tightening. It spread down his arms, across his biceps and forearms, into his hands and fingertips, down his legs, through his ankles and to the tip of his toes.

Just as the last drop of ice cold lead spread through his body, the temperature suddenly skyrocketed. Scalding hot waves of air pummeled him from all sides and with his eyes open, he could see the flames combusting the air around him. At first they were white hot, testament to the properties of the C4, but then they quickly faded to blue, a moment of green, and finally settled to the familiar orange color of fire. It was only then that, for the first time today, that he felt fear. Fear bordering on the edge of terror. When bullets hit his massed form, they left no mark, merely smashed themselves against his hardened body and fell to the floor. Would fire do the same? Lick away at his skin, the heat never getting close enough to burn him? And what if he had to breathe? If he took a breath, not only would the flames be able to reach and char his body, but his already strained lungs would be forced to inhale the flames, burning him from the inside out.

He had to make a conscious effort to tamp down the fear and was only able to do so because he knew his life depended on it. The fear was immobilizing him. And if he remained here any longer, he'd have to breathe before he made his way out of the flames. Jesse concentrated, making sure to maintain his protective massed state. He forced his muscles to move, forced the blood to pump through his body, ignoring the body's protest and demand that everything remain still while massed. One step. Then another. He could see that the fire was already billowing outward, and so he knew that the barrier that blocked mutant powers was no longer a problem. Moving was so hard, so slow. An eternity had passed, and it felt as if he had only gone halfway. The flames still surrounded him, threatening to scald his skin and burn his already smoking clothes.

The fear became panic when another sensation hit him. He needed air, and he needed it now. Moving and forcing his blood to circulate had used up what little oxygen remained in his red blood cells. He needed air, and he needed it now.

There was only one thing he could do. Closing his eyes, he garnered what momentum he had, pushed himself forward and took a breath.