Disclaimer: Too lazy to come up with some snide comment about how I don't own the X-Men.

Alrighty, here it goes. You can thank my friend Erika for helping me decide which fic to update!

Chapter 3: More Mort, Please!

Mort's POV

The pain was blinding. I had no control over myself. Someone was holding me up to their chest, and with each step they took, I felt my clothes rubbing against my stinging skin. The salt in my tears stung at my face. After they put me in a car, I slipped back into semi-consciousness, only aware of the pain.

l-l-l-

The first thing I was truly aware of, was a cool stinging at my face. I was concentrating on my breathing once I heard how truly ragged it was. "Huuh, ha, huuuuuuuuh." There was muttering above me, but I couldn't hear it over the din of my own breath. I found that the rubbing caused by my battle outfit was gone, and I could care less if I was lying around in my underwear. The cool tinge of metal was welcome to my singed back.

I struggled with opening my eyes for a while- my consciousness still weighted with the agony. Soon, though, the light shocked my eyes all the way open. I couldn't see the person who tended my wounds with such care. She was too close to me. Her face was a pale cream, and her hair a fiery red. The only thought that would come to mind when I tried to imagine who would take in someone like me was, There is an angel standing there. God's sent me an angel.

I tried to gasp out the tune to "Jesus Loves Me". After all I'd done, the Lord still helped me. She let out a small laugh, and stepped back.

Jean's POV

Mort was in bad shape, no question about it. I dabbed some sterile saline on his face. I was nervous about putting medicine on his skin, as it was so sensitive. Chances were that the slime secreted by his skin would act as a natural ointment and would heal him. I had very little that I could do about his breathing until he woke up. Once he could function, I could get him to use an inhaler that could help to restore his breathing to normal.

Various people stopped in from time to time that night to see how the Brotherhood boy was doing- mostly Logan and Scott. I was furious to notice that Ororo hadn't come at all. Logan told me about his meeting with Mystique and that he would call her and inform her of Mort's whereabouts.

When we had arrived in front of the mansion that night, the professor already knew of our arrival, and had sent Kurt to assist us. He could carry him to the medical bay quickly, so that he would experience less discomfort. Even when he was unconscious, I don't think he stopped crying until I had been treating him for at least an hour. Logan was right- he was just a child.

As I cleaned the burns on his neck, Mort's bright yellow eyes snapped open. He looked at me curiously, and then a look of relaxation smoothed his features slightly. Through his ragged breaths, he managed to give out the tune to a song I could just recognize as "Jesus loves me, this I know, for the Bible tells me so..."

I smiled at that. The boy had just been struck by lightning, and all he could think was that God loved him. So sweet... Poor kid...

I shook my head, and turned to watch the professor enter. "He just woke up," I told him, though he already knew.

"Yes, I think I'll have a short talk with him." Xavier moved to the head of the table, and I listened in. Hello, Mr. Toynbee. Do you know who I am?

God? thought a startled Mortimer.

No, no. This is Charles Xavier.

I'm sorry for what I did. I sinned, and I ask your forgiveness.

This is not God, Mortimer.

Hail Mary, full of grace...

Mortimer. Mortimer I need you to focus. This is Charles Xavier. You are at my school.

Xavier's a git, but if you want me to be nice to him, Lord...

Mortimer! You are speaking to Professor Xavier! Do you understand?

I want Mystique.

She should be coming tomorrow. For now, I need you to cooperate.

I WANT MYSTIQUE!

Xavier sighed. "He's not thinking straight, Jean."

"Of course he isn't. He's delirious. He's been struck by lightning," I snapped. The professor looked sheepish. "I'm sorry, Professor. I'm just angry about what she did to him, and I know it's stupid for me to feel sorry for him- he did try to kill me- but I had teammates. He was fighting three people by himself."

"I know, Jean. What Ororo did was without my authorization, and she will be reprimanded to fit her deed."

Mystique's POV

A loud ringing shocked me out of a cloudy sleep. The clock read 2:47. Who the hell would be calling at this time? I picked up the phone and croaked out a "Hello?"

"Mystique?" said a familiar voice on the other end.

"Logan! Do you know what time it is?"

"It's about Mort." My heart stopped. Mort?

"What... what about him?"

"He's here. Jean's treating him. I found him last night." I was about to tell him that I was on my way, but he anticipated me. "He's unconscious right now. It would be better for you to come in the morning when he's righter."

I thought I might cry with utter relief. "Shouldn't I come now... just for support? To be there? To see him? What if he wakes up in the night?"

"You just had enough liquor to tranquilize an elephant. You should sleep now." My head did ache like hell.

"Alright. I'll see you tomorrow, Logan."

We both hung up after short goodbyes. As I drifted back into the black that sleep brought, a simple star of hope and joy. Mort. My little Mort's alive. He's alive, and lucky to be that. That poor kid...

So waddaya think? Tell me please!