"Ms. Monroe?"

Ororo Monroe's head popped up from the desk it had been resting on.

"What? Who?" she asked, still trying to get her bearing. She looked around her office, and couldn't see very well. Did I turn the lights off, she asked herself. "Who is it?"

"It's Bobby," the voice replied. "The class got tired of waiting for you, so I took it upon myself to see if you were in your office. Apparently with good reason."

Ororo's vision started coming back to her, and she was wrong about the lights. She realized that it was almost noon and she was late to teach her American Literature class.

"I'm sorry Bobby. I guess I passed out," she replied meekly.

"It's okay," Bobby chuckled, "I won't tell anyone. Did you need anything? Water? Coffee? Aspirin?"

"No Bobby, I'm fine." Ororo wiped her eyes and saw that she had done a rather unspectacular face-plant into the stack of papers on her desk. She put a hand over her mouth to cover her yawn and felt that her face was a little disheveled. She could feel the dimples in her skin where the paper had been pressed against her face.

Getting up from the desk, Ororo crossed over to the window to try and wake herself up a little bit. She felt a sense of regret—it was the second time this week she had passed out at her desk—as she felt she was doing the students a disservice with her behavior. Being the new Headmistress of the school was a little more daunting than she had initially realized. It was times like this that she missed Scott, Jean, and Xavier the most.

Fortunately for her though, Warren decided to stay at the school to help out. Ororo could sense that he really wanted a place he could feel welcome, and he jumped at the chance to help out anyway he could. It didn't take much more than a simple offer to pique his interest of possibly teaching. He agreed almost immediately and began teaching the American Literature class that Ororo had just missed. She was subbing in for Angel as he was back in California visiting his folks. His father had become ill not too long after the incident at Alcatraz four months ago, and he felt compelled to be with him.

But in the meantime, she took over his classes while Logan taught the rest. Logan lobbied to get the easier subjects, of course, leaving Ororo with the more "bookish" ones. She was thankful though that she didn't have to worry about teaching auto shop, which had been one of Logan's specialties since Scott's death. She yawned again. Damn I'm tired, she thought. Looking through the window she could see that she looked the part. Her silvery hair, now almost shoulder length, enveloped the dark skin on her face and neck. Her steely blue eyes were bloodshot with fatigue. If it wasn't for the nice silk shirt and black slacks she wore, you would think she was a drifter.

She turned back and looked at Bobby. He was a strapping young lad, if she did say so herself, with his short cropped brown hair and chilly blue eyes. He was slightly taller than her and was one of the more athletic students at the academy. He dressed much like the other students: light blue T-shirt, blue jeans, and sneakers. But he always seemed to stand out amongst the others. Maybe it was how he held himself. Cool, much like his codename: Iceman.

"Ms. Monroe?" Bobby asked.

Ororo realized she was staring. "Oh," she blurted. "I'm sorry Bobby. And please call me Storm."

"Ok… Storm, did you want me to tell the other student's that class is canceled?"

Storm thought for a minute about it. It was probably best, considering the kids would be aching to get something to eat at this point. Plus, it would take her a few minutes to get composed anyways.

"Yes," she said after a few moments, "but if you could tell them to finish reading 1984, I would appreciate it."

Bobby smiled. "You got it Storm," he said as he walked out the door.

Oddly enough, as Storm watched him leave, she couldn't help but think of Scott. Bobby sort of resembled Scott, and in a way, he seemed to look up at him when he was still around. Scott had been a reassuring presence up until Jean's first "death". After that he was a wreck. He seemed hopeless and constantly at odds with both the students and the faculty.

She remembered one time in the Danger Room, while he still bothered to teach combat tactics, that he put on a rather violent display of destruction for the students. Apparently they had failed to work as a team, Scott had said. And he was determined to make sure they realized that their actions meant life or death in those situations. Bobby took it especially hard, as he was put in charge of the team that went in. Bobby went and talked to Scott about it afterwards, and in one of the last few moments Storm remembered seeing Scott, he smiled and told Bobby not to sweat it and to remain focused on the battlefield. Scott said he would be alright if he "kept his cool." Since then, Bobby's stood out as a leader among the students. A trait, she realized, he seemed to have gleaned from Scott.

A sudden ringing of the telephone on her desk startled Storm for the second time that morning. Quickly composing herself, she grabbed for the phone and answered it with a tired, "Hello? This is Ororo Monroe, Xavier Academy."

"Storm? Logan. We got a visitor. You might want to come see him," a gruff voice from the other line said.

"Him?" she replied.

"Yeah, it's Blondie."

"Alex? Alex is here?"

"Yeah, he's waiting here in the foyer with me."

"Tell him I'll be right down."

She hung up quickly as she straightened herself up. Alex Summers was always welcome here at the school as he was a good friend and a nice guy. He had visited a few times in the past and they were always fun. Alex was the kind of guy you enjoyed hanging out with and having a good time. But he was just serious enough that you'd follow him anywhere if he led you. One of the few things he had in common with his late older brother.

Walking down the hallway, she felt the rush of seeing an old friend. Havok had stopped by maybe a half dozen times in the past year or so, but his last visit wasn't the most pleasant. It was a couple of months ago and he had just heard the news. Alex's job in the Pentagon had him travel quite a bit and he was gone when everyone else had found out. He took it about as well as anyone else would have, she thought to herself. At least he only tore up his brother's room. He left shortly afterwards not saying much after only staying for an hour. Storm couldn't help but feel guilty about the whole thing.

Turning a corner she could almost hear the guys talking as she approached the front door. Oddly enough Alex and Logan got along quite well, a trait that Scott unfortunately did not possess, and could be considered friends. It's probably Alex's laid back attitude, Storm figured. Not as uptight as Scott. When she reached the top of the stairs leading down into the foyer, she spotted Alex right away. He was a tall strong looking man, wearing a white dress shirt and some khaki slacks. The shirt was neatly tucked in and he left the top few buttons undone exposing a white T-Shirt underneath. His short blonde hair was neat and tidy save the few small strands that dangled in front of his blue eyes. Storm half-thought she was looking at a model for GQ.

"Storm!" he called up to her.

"Alex!" she called back as she bounded down the steps. She gave him a firm hug as she spoke. "It's good to see a friend."

"I apologize I couldn't come sooner," Alex responded, "but I just got back from Egypt myself. Some people in the government thought we should investigate possible mutant activity, so I got to play in the sand for awhile. But I've been worse. You?"

"Scrambling to keep the kids educated as always."

"So what brings you here Blondie?" Logan piped up.

Alex's demeanor changed a little bit. And almost business-like he proclaimed, "I need to talk to you guys. Can we go somewhere private?"

"Sure Alex. Is something wrong?" said Storm.

"Well... it's about my brother."

"Your brother?" asked Logan. "Your brother's dead."

"No he's not," he replied. The impact of those words seemed to shock the other two. "And I have proof."