Charles felt sick and weak. At least the twitching had stopped, but he knew he was pale. He'd overextended himself so far that his ears were still ringing, then the sheer force of Jean… She hadn't meant it. At least, it hadn't felt like a deliberate attack. But it had hurt never the less, hurt so much that he'd pulled himself from Cerebro and almost emptied his stomach. The X-men that assembled before him were fewer than they had been when they'd started and they were bloodied. Logan and Kurt weren't standing, Jean looked nearly as bad as he himself felt.

"I know." He said, when Scott suggested using Cerebro to find Bobby and Rogue. "It's likely to be our only option now, but… not tonight. I'm incapable now." Logan growled softly, in pain or frustration, Charles couldn't tell. And that unnerved him. It was like being blinded. "Our present question is what we do about the children, and about the bodies."

"We can't put them back in dorms." Storm said. "Most of them look South and… It's a mess out there."

"We've used The Danger Room in the past," Charles said. "but that's as bad."

"The common rooms face North." Kurt said. "And I do not believe there was any fighting there."

"There are two rooms," Storm suggested. "we could split boys and girls up. It's not a lot of room, but…"

"It'll do for one night." He was too tired to think. He wanted nothing more than to go to bed. "We suspend all classes tomorrow, and clear this mess up. I'm going to ask all of you to sleep in the common rooms with the students." He saw Jean open her mouth. "Jean, are you fit to work?"

"Yes." She looked and sounded exhausted. She was acting, moving, speaking like herself now, but after what he'd felt earlier… "I'm tired, that's all."

"How many need medical attention?"

"That I know of, two, not counting you."

"I need sleep above anything else."

"I'll be okay." Logan said.

"Logan, you're lying down with a heart rate of a hundred and twenty. You don't have to just endure this." Jean said. "Kurt, and Scott?"

"I'm fine." Scott said. There were two or three little rivulets of dried blood across his face.

"Let me check." Jean said. Scott didn't reply.

"So we drag bedding and stuff downstairs, then bring the kids up." Storm said. "Really, we just need to keep them away from the south side and everywhere from the main elevator to the danger room."

"So we only actually need to get the bedding to the stairs." Scott said. "Is that the plan then? Everyone except Jean and whoever she's seeing to hauls bedding down, we deal with everything else in the morning." There was a silence. "Get to it then." Scott got up. The others started to haul themselves to their feet. He was coming. It was on days like this that Charles really felt his certainty that by the time he died, Scott would be ready to take his place.

"Jean," Charles said, "I will want to read you in the morning. I want to understand what on earth happened."

Jean nodded once. "I'm… I think I'm okay now. If anything, I feel… normal. I'm – my power – feels like it's burned out, so…"

"That isn't normal for a telepath, Jean."

"I know, but I don't think I'm a danger to anyone, including myself. I think I'll improve with rest." She pulled Kurt to his feet. "You first." He hated this. He hated not being able to see if she… believed it, if her mind was so disordered by what had happened that her judgments weren't to be trusted. He was in no position to assess her at the moment.

"Scott." Charles called through telepathy. Scott turned. It had been a very clumsy telepathic touch, but it seemed to have served its purpose. "Will you help me?"

Scott nodded once. Charles didn't always – even often – ask for help. His room was very heavily adapted. It took time, but he could usually cope on his own. Sometimes, though, if he was unusually tired or he was unwell, or occasionally if he just wanted to speak to Scott alone, he would ask for help. Tonight was one of those nights. Scott had been… uncomfortable was too strong a word, the first couple of times, but he'd seen it for a gesture of trust and appreciated that.

They took the second elevator up, to avoid tracking through the worst of the blood. Charles felt almost blindfolded, his power was so weak. He'd pushed too hard for too long, then been hit by Jean's… whatever that was. It hadn't quite felt like the Phoenix, the thing inside her he'd kept suppressed for nearly twenty years, but it hadn't felt like Jean either. Had Jean somehow harnessed the force inside herself? Had it somehow harnessed her? He dearly hoped not.

"What are we doing?" Scott asked as he shut the door behind them. "Do you want to wash?"

"No, I'll do that in the morning." He just needed to sleep, then he'd worry about Jean, and finding Bobby and Rogue. How could he have been so stupid? How had he not noticed that there were only eight minds on the network? He'd felt Bobby's panic, just slipping through the edge of his reach, he should have known then that something was badly amiss.

"You okay for a minute?" Scott asked, as Charles started getting himself out of his top clothes. Charles nodded once. "Mind if I wash my face?"

"Please do."

Jean had said they'd taken Bobby and Rogue alive, but she didn't know how she knew. Things Jean 'just knew' after a power flare had proven themselves right in the past, she'd known her way home across three thousand miles of ground. He'd search for them, however long it took. He'd alert Eric, and brave his 'I-told-you-so' expression, and pour whatever resources they could in to finding them. He'd done enough assuming his X-men were dead for this year. Maybe Jean had found other things when she'd blasted her power outwards like that, maybe she'd come to remember them, or he'd be able to read them in her.

Should he tell her to isolate herself? Should he tell Scott not to lie down next to her to sleep? No, of course. They'd both sleep in the makeshift dorms tonight. But perhaps that was worse. The thought of a creature with power like Jean had just demonstrated lying down to sleep among the children… But she had patients as well. She might well stay in the infirmary. And it – whatever it was - might genuinely be over. He was too tired to think straight.

Scott came back from the bathroom, the cuts were clear to see now. He stooped to help Charles out of his chair and on to the bed.

"You're shaking."

"It happens, Scott."

"Even your legs-"

"Scott." Scott fell silent. "Please." He knelt and started taking Charles's shoes off. "There's nothing wrong with me that rest won't cure."

Scott set the shoes in their place and threw the socks in to the washing basket. "If you say so." Charles undid his belt and braced his hands against the bed, taking his weight on them for a moment so Scott could get him out of his trousers. Scott knew well enough what to do by now, he'd been helping every so often since his late teens.

Scott looped his arm around Charles's shoulders and pulled him to the edge of the blanket, then helped him position his legs. Years ago, Charles might have used telepathy to convey to Scott what was comfortable. Now there was no need, even if Charles had had the strength. Scott straightened and set about picking up the clothes.

"Do you think she'll be okay?" He asked quietly. There was no question of who he meant.

Charles sighed. He didn't know. Something was afoot with Jean, but… "If she can survive Alkali Lake-"

"I know." Scott drew a breath slowly. "But…" Most of the breath passed out of him, in what was almost a hiss. "We screwed up. We screwed up really badly."

"What we – I – didn't recon on was how differently minds behave in a drill compared to combat. Add to that a hundred frightened children and eighty mercenaries of different companies, trying to keep pain from spreading through the network… I couldn't do it, Scott."

"Any one of us could have seen that coming." Scott said quietly. "Well, Jean and me at least. And I should have chased it up when Rogue didn't appear at the first line and Bobby wasn't making the approach impossible."

Charles appreciated what Scott was trying to do, but he was trying in vain. Charles was responsible, ultimately, for the school and for the X-men. He'd taken on the task of keeping track of everyone and he'd failed at it.

,

Inside the dorms, Storm thought, it wasn't actually too bad. There were a few broken windows here and there, a bit of damage to one wall (presumably where Kurt had been shot). It was just what you could see out of the window. Five jeeps lay wrecked on the grass, the bodies of probably twenty men around them. She drew the curtains and asked Kitty and Peter to do the same. They'd take kids up to collect bedding and stuff in dorm groups, supervising them the whole time. Keep doing until there's nothing left to do, then she would allow herself to think. Right now, she couldn't afford to. She ought to keep Peter and Kitty as busy as she could too, for their own sakes.

,

"Logan." Logan opened his eyes. "You're up." He really didn't want to move. His guts were tight and burning, even the amount he shifted them when he breathed hurt.

"Do I have to?"

"I can examine you here if you like." Jean said, crouching down next to him. He shut his eyes again.

"I'm fine. I'll sleep it off."

"If nothing else, you need painkillers." He felt her hand on his wrist. "Yeah, you need painkillers…" She pinched his lower lip. "And shock dose fluids." He heard her shift. "Can you not even bear to move to wash? You're covered in blood."

"It'll stop." He said. "Always stops."