WELL, FANCY MEETING YOU HERE!

Surprised? Took me almost ten years, but hey, I said I wouldn't forget about y'all. I'm going to be honest - I had a notebook with all of my story notes/plot/characters in it that disappeared during a move, which made me feel like there was no way I'd be able to finish it. Recently, I remembered that hey, this is my story, and I can do whatever I want with it.

So, please bare with me while I try to get my ducks in a row, and reinvent this. Updates will probably be sporadic.

Truthfully, there is a lot of this story that I'd like to go back and edit. I was a much different person nearly 9 years ago than I am now. Still, I found a lot of joy in sitting down to type out the idea for this chapter that was in my head (which, thankfully, was one I remembered).

My writing style has changed over the years, but my love for Henry McCoy, Marvel, and this community has not.

This is a short chapter. Trying to get the wheels rolling again. Please, PLEASE let me know what you think if you feel inclined.

Thank you ALL for your support over the years, for the messages asking how I was doing, and for, well.. Everything! I hope you're all doing well and succeeding with your plans and goals, however big or small. 3

All right, enough chit-chat.

~Here's Chapter 55!~

CHAPTER 55

REUNION

She was here. He knew immediately. A rush of orange and vanilla filled his nostrils, and he turned to move before he realized what he was doing. His blue eyes scanned the room, over the heads of the students bustling with nervous energy, and locked for a moment on the stairs that rose from the basement. Below, he knew there was a hidden entrance to the lower-most levels of the summer house, reserved for only the worst-case scenarios.. Which, he recognized, they happened to be experiencing. Jillian was here, being brought inside. He smelled blood - lots of blood. Panic welled within him and he shot to his feet, muscles taut, ready to launch himself toward her.

'MATE!' Beast writhing and howling, trying to shred the carefully crafted layers that contained him. 'MATEMATEMATE!'

"Professor McCoy?" A soft voice - Cheyanne - forced him to snap back to the moment. He was bracing her ankle after she was tripped by one of the FOH soldiers that had invaded the school. His eyes locked with hers, an apology written on his face as he forced himself to kneel back down.

"Sorry, Cheyanne." Henry returned to the wounded child's ankle, delicately positioning the brace, before securing it with a thick ace bandage. "I heard some others come inside and.. And I'm worried about Jillian." He tried to offer the young girl a small smile of comfort, but it came out as more of a grimace. "This is important, and I'll make sure you're taken care of." He paused, then added resolutely. "All of you."

Beast was clawing, shrieking like a wounded animal as the minutes passed. Henry methodically wrapped the girl's ankle, jaw clenched, listening intently for any noise coming from the lower level. The smell of blood became stronger, and he watched as Pitor came gently up the stairs, an ashen Jubilee in his arms. The scent of blood was thick on her, and he saw the red stain, now mottled brown, shrouding her abdomen. He could smell Jillian on her - she had been the one to help her. But she was still downstairs. Was she injured, too?

'We will see her, but we need to do this, Beast.' He tried to reason with his inner animal, wanting nothing more than to give in to the maddening pull to rush downstairs, to make sure she as all right.

'NOW.' Beast growled. Henry shook his head, securing the bandage in place, then patted Cheyanne's knee, gently removing her from the counter. He swallowed thickly, taking a steadying breath.

"Done. Would you like me to carry you to one of the rooms so you can get some sleep?"

The brunette girl shook her head, her normally vibrant, mismatched eyes now dull as she began to limp towards the couches. At that moment, Fredrick, Paras, and Rayne bustled up the stairs. The two girls locked eyes, burst into tears, and rushed to the other. A few others noticed the new arrivals, and soon everyone was up, some crying, others laughing with relief.

Knowing she was now in good hands, and that Rogue was coming down the stairs to tend to the children, Henry became a blur of blue and flew down the stairs to the lower levels. He punched the code into the door, nearly slamming it off the hinges as he flung it open.

His heart stopped.

Victor had Jillian in his arms, her eyes wide open, but it was very obvious she was not conscious. He rushed forward, but Victor hissed a warning. Henry snarled in response, then froze as Jillian's eyes locked on his.

Her eyes were black. All of it. No sclera visible, no emerald green. Black. The skin around her eyes, too, seemed shadowed, and it almost looked like the veins below were darker than they should've been. A sudden feeling of terror gripped his spine. Victor began speaking again.

"She collapsed. Remy grabbed her, and she put him on his ass. Her eyes got black and grabbed his temples, and she.. I dunno. Her fingertips went black and Remy was down." He jerked his head behind him. "He's shakin' it off. Don't think she was aware of it. That was 10 minutes ago, she's been like this since."

Remy appeared behind him, sweat beading his brow, staring apprehensively at her.

".. Not sure what she did, Hank." He locked eyes with Henry. ".. Whatever it was, 'Ol Remy's glad she knew he was friend and not foe, or he'd'a been down a lot longer. Think he scared her is all."

Henry moved towards Victor.

"Why were you able to touch her?" He asked sharply.

Victor shrugged.

"Dunno. Didn't give her much of a choice. Maybe it's 'cuz I got her out of the mansion." He last part was a barb, his eyes sparkling with a challenge. "Maybe it's 'cuz I stayed to find her." He shifted the woman in his arms, moving to hand her off. "In any case, she's all yers. Use caution though." His grin was a taunt, fanged and feline. "Wouldn't want that Big 'Ol Beastie breakin' free."

A growl rumbled through Henry's chest as he took Jillian from him, cradling her against his chest.

"Watch it, Creed." His voice was inhuman, eyes darkening.

Victor rolled his eyes, turning on his heel.

"Gonna go check the grounds, make sure there aren't any more surprises. Yer security's shit." He paused, glancing at Henry over his shoulder. "And.. Yer welcome, by the way." Then he was gone, out the door and into the dense forest surrounding the house.

Henry watched the door close behind him, tightening his grip on Jillian. He peered down into her eyes, searching for a sign that she was okay.

Nothing but round, black orbs stared back at him. Through him. He saw his reflection in her eyes. A sudden sensation, like being trapped, rushed through him. He looked down at her hands, at the deep black that had appeared on her fingertips and faded to her normal tone by the second knuckle. Remy was watching her with a mixture of unease and curiosity on his face.

".. Whaddya think it is, Hank?"

"I.." Henry started, then shook his head, shifting her in his arms to carry her to an unoccupied room. He didn't want to bring her upstairs, didn't want to worry the children.. And he wanted to see if he could try to bring her back from wherever she was. "I don't know, Remy." He paused to open the door, looking back at him. "If the children ask, let them know she's injured but seems stable. As for the others.. Let them know I'll tell them more as soon as I'm able."

Everything hurt.

Every muscle, every bone, every sinew, every vein - every fibre of my being felt raw, skinned with electricity and fire.

A groan slipped past my lips as I tried to shift, and found I couldn't.

I opened my eyes, and immediately shut them. The lights, fluorescent and harsh, sent a jolt of pain to the base of my skull. A sense of panic, then profound relief, caressed my skin, the raw ache calming for a blissful moment.

"Jillian?"

Henry. Henry was here.

"H.." I struggled with the noise, face scrunching. Did I have a stroke? No, I understood the internal monologue, words were still familiar. A seizure, then? Why did I feel so tired? I tried to open my eyes again, finding the lights now dimmed, and managed to blink once, then twice. Slowly, the room came into focus. "Wha.."

A strong, soft hand took my own.

"Shh.." He shushed me gently. I could see him now, the skin of lapis lazuli framed by gentle tresses of the same color. "Go easy."

Easy was all I could do. Every time I tried to move, my body refused. I blinked again, swallowing with great effort.

"Henry." I managed to find my legs and stretch, followed by my chest and shoulders, neck rolling. "What.."

"You're safe. We're at the summer house." His fingertips drew light circles against my palm. I managed to bring my free hand to my eyes, rubbing, before dragging it down my face.

I froze. Henry's grip on my hand tightened.

"What is this?"

Black. My fingertips were black. I managed to rise onto my elbows and saw his hand against mine. Black fingertips. Like frostbite, without the necrosis and shriveled flesh, that faded to a normal tone mid-length. Henry helped me into a sitting position, bringing my legs over the side of the bed. I stared at the hand that lay on his.

"Henry." My voice grew stronger. "What the fuck is this?"

He shifted, taking both of my hands in his.

"I don't know." He breathed. ".. Apparently, you collapsed. Remy said your eyes changed, and when he caught you, you panicked and.. Well, he isn't exactly sure what you did. None of us are."

Panic welled in my throat, my head snapping up to meet his gaze. Not sure what I did?

"Is he okay?" I felt the words tumble from my mouth. "Did I hurt him?"

"Not.. Exactly." He shifted his weight to his other foot.

"Henry." My tone was pleading. "What did I do?"

"He said it was like being trapped in a box with no way out, and then you lifted the lid." Henry ran a hand along his face, taking a step back. "You touched his temples, and he said it felt like he was a prisoner in his own body. You must have recognized who he was and stopped whatever it was you were doing."

Sick. I felt sick. I rose on shaking legs and turned to face the mirror above the desk.

Nothing could have prepared me for the face staring back at me.

My eyes were entirely black. No pupil, no iris, no sclera - black. The skin around them had darkened, like a burn, with small whisps, like tendrils, moving out towards the rest of my face, fading after a few inches. Something visceral swelled beneath my chest, and I flinched backward, goosebumps breaking out along my arms. Bile rose in my throat. I blinked. Still black. I rubbed my eyes with my charcoal fingers. Still black.

"How.. How long have I been like this?"

"Since you got to the house. You've been out of it for about 14 hours." He came to stand beside me, studying my expression.

"I was passed out for 14 hours?" My voice trembled.

"Not passed out, necessarily." He cleared his throat. "Your eyes were open. You stared at the ceiling, not even blinking." He motioned to the eyedrops on the table. "You'd look at me occasionally when I'd try to talk to you, to let you know I was here or that I going to administer eye drops, but it was like.. Like you were looking through me."

I stared at myself in the mirror, unable to shake the panic that continued to rise.

"I look.." I began, swallowing thickly. "I look scary." I turned, looking up at Henry. He cupped my cheek, rubbing my cheekbone slowly, softly. "What is this, Henry?"

He managed a small smirk that barely reached his eyes. I noticed the purple rings beneath them and began wondering when the last time he slept was. A pang of guilt and appreciation rose behind my sternum, realizing I was part of the reason he hadn't slept, but grateful for his care.

"You say to the walking blue shag rug with fangs." He sighed.

Despite the tension, I let out an indignant snort, the corner of my lip twitching upwards in appreciation.

".. What did I say about calling yourself a shag rug?"

Henry chuckled lowly. It came out more like a staggered breath.

"I'm not sure I recall what exactly what said, but I certainly remember a rant." He pressed his forehead against mine. "You don't look scary. As far as what it is.." The tip of his nose bumped mine reassuringly. ".. We will figure it out. For now.." He pulled me towards the bed, throwing the covers back. "I haven't slept in 16 hours, and, by the looks of it, I'd say the 14 hours of you laying there wasn't exactly restful."

I allowed him to pull me onto the bed with him, bodies settling naturally against each other, confined but not trapped within his arms by his chest. The ache quelled, replaced by warmth. As quickly as it came, it was gone, as I suddenly remembered the school - the chaos. Had everyone gotten out?

Henry, feeling me tense, pulled the blanket over me, and seemed to predict my question.

"Sleep. Sleep, and then we'll tell you everything that we know, and make a plan. But, for now.." He kissed my forehead. ".. sleep while you can."

Nestled against his chest, a wave of exhaustion hit me. Any remark of protest died on my lips as I succumbed to dreamless slumber.

More plot next time, I promise 3

Thanks for reading!

~OmegaPhaedra