Housekeeping:

I'd like to thank Verthril for the review and follow (I highly recommend Verthril's "What are Friends For" series) and Mr BDECE for the fav. :o)

Xs in the profile below represent a redacted sentence.

Chapter Three: A Mangled Appendage

Shield Surveillance Profile:

Name: Holgersson, Dr Mattias Lukas

Nationality: Birth - Swedish, Naturalised Citizen - USA

Birth-date: 26/07/1989

Age:25 Hair:Blond Eyes:Blue Height:5'9

Distinguishing Features: Right-Hand - Maimed

Residence: Brooker Student Housing, Apt 16, W. 107th Street, NY, USA

Profession: Junior Lecture Columbia University, NY, USA

Education: MA - Theoretical and Applied Probability, University of California, Berkeley, USA (Thesis: Cause And Effect: Theories On Fractal Probability In Human Behaviour)

Phd - Computational Physics, University of Stockholm, Sweden (Thesis: Fractal Computational Fluid Dynamics Models In Closed Human Societal Systems)

Reason for Surveillance: Xxx x xxxxxxx xxx xxxxxxxx x xx xxxx xxxxxx xxxx x xxxx xxxxxx xxxx xx x - Authorising Officer - Colonel Nick Fury

Surveillance Status: Suspended

Report End

He hated marking exams. Doctor Mattias Holgersson would rather have licked chewed gum off a New York hobo's hairy back than mark another page of shoddily calculated trigonometry. It was becoming abundantly clear that most of his CSP 201 class hadn't as much as peeked at the drills he had spent weeks preparing for them.

Grabbing the next bunch of answer sheets from a random pile, he instantly regretted it, his right-hand spasming painfully as his fingers closed around the bundle of papers.

He flashed back to his last appointment with Dr Welker, who had insisted he take better care of his mangled appendage.

'If you won't agree to more surgery, you must take better care of the fingers you have left,' the specialist had warned him. 'Please do the strengthening exercises I've prescribed' – Dr Welker paused to make sure Mattias was listening, locking his patient down with an icy glare – 'and don't overuse that hand. If it starts to hurt or seize, stop, and take a break.'

Now eyeballing the virtually infinite pile of papers he had left to mark, Mattias could only laugh at Dr Welker's naivety. A break? Not bloody likely.

Still there was only so much one struggling academic can take. Mattias listlessly corrected four more papers and then, fed up with the general lack of scholarly competence, tossed his red ballpoint pen on the desk. The rubber support band made it bounce before it came to rest next to a physics textbook.

It was a sign, and under the circumstances the physicist allowed himself a sneaky glance at the blackboard behind him. He could've sworn it was in league with his stupid students and his aching hand – those white chalk numbers and diagrams were taunting him, derisively laughing at his inability to solve them.

He really had to stop writing them out; it was becoming a ritual. Arrive. Enter office. Drop briefcase. Scribble equation and nervously glance at it for the rest of the day, never solving it.

Feeling a twitch from his wrist, he tried once more to straighten his stiff thumb and index finger and was rewarded with nauseating pain shooting up his arm.

Yeah, that definitely was not good.

The rational part of Mattias' mind whispered that he should've been use to the pain by now; twenty years was a long time to whimper about something so small in the big scheme of things. In a world where terrible things happened every day, did two missing fingers and a mangled pinky really matter?

Lately, though, even his rational side had to admit that the pain was escalating exponentially to a point where it was no longer only his hand that hurt, but every muscle and nerve between his pinkie and his brain.

Mattias had a sneaking suspicion it was related to the constrictive woolen gloves he wore permanently, but what was he suppose to do? Just walk around with his grotesque Franken-hand exposed?

With much reluctance, he pulled another paper from the top of the nearest pile, glanced at the first page and winced. No way in hell he was marking that tonight. He needed at least two Vicodin in him before attacking anything handed in by Jubilation Lee. That girl had zero aptitude for the work and was only just managing to keep her head above water. Miraculously so, as far as Mattias was concerned.

Miss Lee was an enigma inside a puzzle wrapped in shocking colours. The nymph had appeared in his class on the first day of term with a note from Garu saying she had "special" consideration. Mattias, choosing not to endanger his already rocky tenure track, had allowed the girl to stay, but no one could fault him if Miss Lee failed on merit. Garu might've loved to play favourites with every wide-eyed ingenue that floated past his office, but Dr Holgersson expected excellence.

Not in the mood for any more mathematical horrors, and estimating he'd made it through half the mountain of papers that needed marking, Mattias wiped the blackboard clean and called it a night. The clock on his wall read 10:08pm.

Outside it was a freezing, and he could feel the icy fingers of winter burrowing under countless layers of fabric. The large university parking lot before him was deserted, except for one conspicuous Beetle parked under a streetlight that seemed to flicker in the misty haze. Beside it, he could just about make out a small yellow blob holding a even smaller blue blob. Intrigued to find anyone still around at this late hour, he moved closer, across the asphalt, only to hear the larger blob furiously swearing to itself.

'Damn motherfunkin' keys. I know you're in here somewhere.'

Closer, the larger blob took shape into the distinct back of a small girl, with a sleeping baby on her hip, rummaging through an oversized purse.

'OK kid, I'll level with you. Mommy could jimmy the lock Gumbo-style, but Big Blue made the damn thing near impossible to hotwire.'

Jimmy? Gumbo? Hotwire? What a strange creature.

'We're gonna have to make like ET and phone home,' the girl lamented, pulling the baby's blue blanket tighter around him for warmth. 'And we need to find a cosy spot to hold out in or the Bobmeister won't be the only popsicle in the family.'

Mattias took another step closer to the girl, his boot scraping lightly on some pebbles. Suddenly the girl whipped around, as if she was reacting to the faint sound, her left-hand outstretched like a talon and her lithe body turning sideways, placing as much space as possible between this stranger and her baby. The look on her face screamed "come any closer and I'll cut you".

Staggered, Mattias did the only thing that came to mind and held up his hands, hoping he appeared as non-threatening as he felt.

'I'm sorry, I didn't mean to startle you,' he mumbled from under his heavy scarf.

The girl relaxed, and only then did Mattias realise he had the worst luck in the world. Of course he recognised her now. This wasn't some lost little girl, but the short frame of one Miss Jubilation Lee.

For her part, Jubilee berated herself for not hearing the man sneaking up on her. She hadn't recognised her CSP professor until he spoke, covered as he was from head to toe, his usually prominent Viking features – the scraggly beard was a dead giveaway – hidden beneath beanie and scarf. But that accent, an odd mash-up of hard Swedish consonants fighting round American vowels, was unmistakable. Some things the human ear unfortunately cannot forget. While it might've made the other undergrads swoon, Jubes much preferred Piotr's husky Russian baritone or the Cajun's sexy French drawl.

Logan was just gonna love it. First she forgets her keys in the library and now this.

'Miss Lee, right?'

She nodded, surprised the professor remembered her name. In class she had the distinct feeling he did his utmost to ignore her.

'Car trouble?' he offered – it was a statement more than a question. 'Do you need some help?'

While he wasn't this girl's greatest supporter, his mother had taught him how to be a gentleman. That and since she had already seen him he couldn't just sneak away.

Surprised by his offer, but not willing to give an inch of her natural independence, she shook her black crown and stiffly replied: 'No thanks, we're fine. I just forgot my keys in the library.'

An uncomfortable silence followed. Neither knowing what to say. In class they had the unwritten rules of teacher-student etiquette to follow, but those didn't quite cover being stuck together in the middle of a deserted parking lot late at night.

Mattias cursed his dumb luck. All he'd wanted to do was head home, swallow a bottle of pain pills and crawl into bed. But all that was outweighed by his sympathy for that little boy stuck in the cold.

Jubilee could have sworn her lecturer flinched as he proposed: 'I could give you a ride, if you want...'

'No, really, it's OK. It's really out of the way,' she said, mostly ignoring him as she pulled out a pink cell phone from her bag. 'I'll just call someone from the school to pick us up.'

'The school?'

Already scrolling through her contact list for possible blackmail candidates who could be "persuaded" to drive down to the city, Jubilee was only somewhat paying attention as she muttered: 'Jean Grey's School for Higher Learning.'

'Didn't that use to be Xavier's… in Salem Center… on Graymalkin Lane?'

Jubilee's head snapped up from her phone, her eyes narrowing with suspicion. The doc now had her full attention again. It was one thing for someone to know the school's notorious name, but not many would be able to name the address on the spot.

'How do you know that?' There was something almost predatory in the way she eyed him.

'I grew up in North Salem. Xavier's was kind of hard to miss.'

North Salem was plain old wealthy Salem Center's richer, sexier, uppity neighbour. A fierce rivalry existed between the two Westchester hamlets, with North Salemites often referring to their southern cousins as "hillbillies" – as if. On the other hand, before Xavier's status as a school for mutants became known to the world, Salem Center residents often loved to brag about their prestigious school for "gifted youngsters" to the Northies. Jubilee knew that any kid from North Salem would've grown up with shame that their high school didn't quite measure up to the kids on Graymalkin Lane – or so Professor Xavier, a Salem Centerist to the core, had lead her to believe.

'So you were a North Salem Pussycat?' Jubilee said with a smirking. If the doc really was from the neighbouring hamlet, a good-natured jab at his home team should get some reaction.

The North Salemite stifled a groan. 'It's the North Salem Tigers actually. Tigers, as in the team that beat your puny Beavers to the Steven's Cup in lacrosse three years running.'

No etiquette was needed when one was defending the honor of the local team. But Jubilee just shrugged her shoulders.

'Look,' said Mattias, changing the subject, 'it could take someone from Salem up to 90 minutes to get here on these roads. I don't feel good about leaving you guys out here alone and I really don't think this cold is good for your son.'

At those last words, Jubilee pulled Shogo's body closer to her own, trying to share with him what heat she had left. 'The school is pretty out of your way,' she said, indecisively chewing on her bottom lip.

'Actually…' – he was making up plans in his head now – 'I'll just bunk at my parents tonight. They're still in North Salem and I have some books my mom wanted me to drop off. You're just a few minutes down the road.'

'Even so, it'll still be like a massive pain for you to have to go all the way up to Graymalkin Lane,' she said as her hand was already snaking her phone back into her purse.

'Maybe I could drop you guys off somewhere in town?' Mattias pushed the cuff of his left glove up ever so gently to get a look at his watch; judging by the late hour, he knew only a few places in the small town would still be open. 'What about Rosa's on Main? They should still be open and your friends could just pick you up from there.'

'OK,' she finally agreed, flashing him an easy smile out of gratefulness, and for moment Mattias could've sworn that the haze around them had parted as moonlight streamed over her striking features, her eyes deep pools of unearthly sapphire. The physicist felt his pulse jump ever so slightly.

Oblivious, Jubilee bent down to strap her son into the carrier car seat at her feet. 'Could you drop us off at Harry's on Pine instead?' she asked, squinting up at Mattias through the glare of the streetlight.

'Harry's Hideaway?' Mattias gulped. Much like Rosa's, Harry's was a Salem institution, but for all the wrong reasons. Urban legends swirled around that dive bar, and North Salem residents often told tales involving creepy mutants, unexplained demolitions and incredibly hot women.

'Yeah, the one and only.'

If such a slip of a girl was hard enough for the Hideaway, surely his Viking blood was strong enough. So, not wanting to appear intimidated by her taste in hangouts, Mattias tried for a nonchalant 'Cool'.

Finally done strapping in a now groggy Shogo, Jubilee marveled at how foreign that Americanism sounded rolling of the doctor's tongue. It made him sound a bit more human.

As she moved to gather up her and Shogo's bags, Dr Holgersson took them off her hands. 'It's pretty slippery from the ice,' he said, indicating towards the glimmering ground between them and the faculty parking spaces. 'Better you just carry him.'

They carefully made their way across the icy lot, Dr Holgersson leading the way. Although Jubilee's knew her bags weren't that heavy, her sensitive sight noticed the nearly imperceptible twitches of his right wrist.

Next thing she knew they were at his car, and Jubilee instantly reconsidered his offer. She severely doubted this piece of junk could even be called a car, let alone be sound enough to get them to Salem in one piece.

Guessing at the girl's perturbed expression, Mattias move to defend his first love.

'Don't let her appearance fool you. Helga is a trooper. She's crossed the Atlantic twice and got me through seven years of college.'

Accentuating his point, he gave the right rear tire a slight kick. The whole framed shuddered. 'See? 1999 Volvo S70. Quality Swedish engineering.'

'I'll have to take your word for it,' she said as he placed the bags in the trunk of his silver monstrosity and unlocked the back door so she could install Shogo's car seat.

Jubilee was thankful she'd decided to bring Shogo out in his carrier today. Most days she simply left it in the car and brought him in her arms to and from the university daycare. But with the frosty forecast that morning, she had opted for ease of movement. And now having been introduced to "Helga", she was relieved that she wouldn't have to hold the kid on her lap the whole way to Salem.

With Shogo settled, Jubes was taken aback when the awkward Swede unlocked and held open the passenger side door for her. She could've sworn she saw a slight blush peeking out from under his scarf.

'I know,' he said, with a hint of embarrassment. 'Americans think it's silly, but my mother is a stickler for tradition, and you don't piss off a German woman who loves to knit.' He mimed a quick stabbing motion to illustrate his point, which brought a smirk to Jubliee's face.

Closing the door after her, the good doctor shuffled around to the driver's side. Climbing in quickly, he removed his beanie and scarf, but Jubilee noticed he left his winter gloves on, something he did even when lecturing.

Mattias turned the key in the ignition and the radio thundered to life, filling the jalopy with an unearthly racket of snarling guitars, hammering drums and screeching vocals. Jubilee visibly jumped at the sound, her vampire senses amplified the noise to near deafening levels. Seeing her distress, Mattias immediately killed the radio.

'Sorry,' he stuttered.

'It's OK, it just surprised me.'

Mattias turned make sure her son was not similarly disturbed; Viking metal at any volume was a bit much for most adults, not to mention a baby. To his relief, the boy smiled happily back at him, not in the least bit perturbed.

Jubilee noticed the doc checking on Shogo and laughed. 'Oh, and he's fine too.'

She reached back to the strapped-in bundle and the baby tightly grabbed hold of his mother's index finger. 'Totally right as rain, aren't you?' she cooed. 'Only music you don't like is uncle Sean's horrid Irish tunes.' Shogo pulled a yucky face and gave a disgusted 'Buh'.

Mattias Holgersson never considered himself a baby person, someone who melted at the sight of cutesy newborns and their mothers, but the warmth emanating from this small woman as she gazed down at her son could've made the Grinch yodel "Jingle Bells".

The physicist felt an uncomfortable pang where his heart might've been. Not wanting to analyse what that could mean, he instead went for an easy 'So are we ready to go?'

The journey home was surprisingly comfortable, but the conversation was stilted, bouncing from one insignificant topic to the next. It didn't help that the adults were forced to lower their voices to accommodate the snoozing infant in the back.

Mattias remarked on Jubilee's west coast accent, and she briefly recounted the happy bits of her life in SoCal – though leaving out the uncomfortable parts about her dead parents and Gateway.

She asked Mattias how long he had lived in the US, and he told her of his dad's love of 1940s New York cinema, and how the strapping Lukas Holgersson had seemingly on a whim moved his young family to New York when Mattias was just ten years old. He made no mention of the reconstructive surgery and nerve grafts that followed.

The doctor asked about Jubliee's living arrangements. Why did she choose to live all the way out in Salem? Did she have trouble finding an apartment closer to campus?

'Hey, what college student doesn't like a 24-hour laundry service, free food and on-demand babysitters?' No need to mention Hank and his convenient Shi'ar mammal blood synthesiser.

Next they compared travel destinations: LA, Paris, London, Scotland and Ireland for both; Stockholm and Berlin for him, for university and family holidays; Tokyo, Hong Kong and Hungary for her. Jubilee left out Madripoor; that thug-infested rat hole was a conversation killer.

Not able to think of another casual subject, Mattias steered the conversation to his student's major of choice.

'So, Miss Mirowsky tells me you're a psych major. That's quite a bit different from CSP, I guess.'

He hoped Miss Lee would assume he was making conversation and not trying to interrogate her. But it was hard to miss the annoyed looked that crossed her face at the mention of her major. Mattias could even have sworn he heard a low growl coming from her direction.

For the first time that night the atmosphere between them turned frosty. Mattias wanted to kick himself; he'd been doing so well with the menial small talk up till then.

'Not that there anything wrong with a BA degree,' he spluttered, hopelessly trying to cover up his social blunder and ease some of the tension.

Jubilee's ire turned to sympathy at the professor's bumbling ways, she decided to cut the guy some slack. Instead of avoiding the question, she surprised even herself by answering it.

'I don't know, statistics and probability just seemed interesting, I guess' – a delicate hand self-consciously tucked a silky strand of hair behind her right ear – 'I use to imagine that was what university was all about, you know? Getting out of your comfort zone, trying new things…'

The yearning in her voice cut through his natural cynicism like a knife, and he felt a pang of nostalgia for his own youth.

Jubilee turned from him to stare out the side window at the dark Westchester countryside. Mattias knew to keep his mouth shut and his eyes on the road.

Not looking away from the passing scenery, she continued: 'The institute spoils us, I guess. We're encouraged to explore subjects outside our comfort zones. If I wanted to take a few extra electives here or there, I'd just check with Logan or Kitty and they'd square it with whoever's teaching. I'd obviously have to put the work in – wasting a teacher's time pisses everyone off – but I'd be given a chance to try, at least.'

And that was true even now. In the last two months Jubilee had found herself sitting in on as many of Bobby's math and Hank's physics classes as she could squeeze in between university, training and Shogo. Ororo and Betsy reminded her that she didn't have to take on so much, but what choice did she really have?

It had been two years since her last science class, and at first she thought the mental cobwebs would never loosen. At least she didn't have to feel weird taking classes with younger students. In a school where pupils arrived from different parts of the world, not to mention distant planets, and even the occasional micro-verse, the Grey's curriculum was "designed to challenge each person's personal skill level" and didn't impose any strict age brackets, because really, at what age did you start teaching the Ethics of Time-Travel or Randall's Ruminations on Retrograde Rotation?

Mattias didn't want to push it further, even though Miss Lee didn't seem unwilling to talk about her studies.

'Well, if you need some help with the more advanced stuff, you know you can ask the tutors, or drop in during my consultation hours. If all else fails, you can always ask Donna for extra tutor sessions.'

That would've earned him a playful slap on the arm from Jubes – that was until she remembered who he was.

Determined now to steer the conversation to lighter topics, Mattias inquired about Jubilee's plans for the holidays.

She painted a pleasant picture of decorated Christmas trees, impromptu snowball fights and mountains of Cook's famous leftover turkey and cranberry stuffing sandwiches that made lunch for days on end. She was grateful, too, that he didn't interrogate her on why she was hunkering down at the school for the holidays and not spending it with her family.

Asking him about his own plans for the jolliest of seasons, Mattias lamented that he could not join his family for their annual trip to Stockholm. He just too far behind with his work, not to mention his overdue research paper.

'Working on Christmas? That seriously blows.' She gave a slight shake of her short black mane.

'Yeah, it does. I'm going to miss seeing my aunts and uncles. Some only make the trip up to the city for Christmas. Everyone sings, eats, gets drunk and finally, when everyone's on their last legs and about to pass out, Farmor Unni brings out the knäck.

'The who brings out the what?'

'Far-Moor.' Mattias pronounced the word slowly so that she could hear the unfamiliar sounds. 'It translates as your father's mother, Farmor Unni is my grandmother on my Dad's side.'

Jubilee turned the new word over in her head and stored it for future use. You never knew when you might need the Swedish word for paternal grandmother. Hell, Angelo said she'd never need the Afrikaans word "stoepkakker" and she'd got loads of mileage of it so far.

'Farmor,' she repeated slowly, making sure to match the sounds and glancing at Mattias to make sure she got it right.

'Yeah, you got it.' He didn't mention how different and nice it was to hear his beloved language slowly rolling off her tongue, and he gave himself a mental slap upside the head.

Meanwhile, Jubliee, now totally proud of her new-found polyglotism, moved on to the next word. 'OK, what's K-nack?'

'Knäck' – again Mattias pronounced it slowly, so that she could hear the "ä" sound – 'they're these sickly sweet toffees with bits of almond. In Sweden we have them at Christmas. Farmor Unni's are the best…' And he trailed off, lost in childhood memories of sneakily stealing hot gooey candy off the cooling rack with the rest of his cousins.

Jubilee pretended not to notice that far-off look of longing, and instead choose to join in with his clear love of candy. 'Sticky sweet is one of my favourite food groups.'

Her voice brought the Swede back to the present. 'Well then you'll love Knäck,' he said.

'So knäck is to the Swedish what gingerbread is to the Germans?' she mused, thinking back to the buckets of gingerbread Kurt often tries to bring Stateside when he goes home for the holidays. A TSA agent once accused him of running an illegal candy smuggling operation, because who drags nearly twenty pounds of gingerbread across the border for their own use?

Mattias vehemently shook his head. 'No, definitely not. Knäck is a sophisticated delicacy. Gingerbread, no matter what my mother claims, is just overly spiced cardboard.'

Before Jubes had a chance to retort in defence of one of her favourite Christmas snacks, they had reached their destination.

Looking at the small, darkened bar, Mattias had to admit feeling slightly disappointed that he hadn't insisted on dropping her off at the school. It would have added an extra 25 minutes to their journey, time he now realised could've been spent seeing how many other Swedish words she could learn.

Completely for academic purposes, of course.

Jubes directed him to pull around the back of the bar. Mattias did as he was told, and as the car turned the corner in the alley – and much to his annoyance – he observed the tell-tale signs of life. A bright light escaped from under a grungy backdoor, distorted by the shadows of feet moving behind it.

Jubilee noticed the light as well, 'Hopefully that's Ethel cleaning up and not Harry,' she said, a slight worry creeping into her voice. 'That man can be as cranky as a drunk at a puritans' convention.'

The slightest shimmer of hope flared up inside Mattias and he grabbed at it. 'You know, I can still drop you at the school. It's really just up the road.'

'Nah, don't be silly, he's just an over-protective grump.'

The glimmer died.

'Harry's cranky, but it's only because he hates the idea of us institute brats being out late without supervision, even when we've graduated.'

Suddenly the back door of the dive bar swung open and the heavy-set figure of a man stepped out into the night. In his hamhock of a right hand, Mattias could make out the silhouette of what looked like a baseball bat. The professor instinctively puffed up to block the path between the shadow and his student. But if the fearless girl noticed it, she didn't acknowledge, simply peering over his shoulder to squint into the light.

When the shadow spoke, its voice boomed across the alley. 'What do you want?'

The firecracker instantly recognised that voice; as a teenager it had constantly lambasted her for placing her "derriere" on his bar.

'Geez, Harry,' Jubilation called out, 'It's just me, you mad Scot! You can totally drop the macho act.'

'Jubilee?' The man lumbered closer to the car and for a second Mattias didn't know what or who the man was referring too, until his student called back.

'Yes, it's me, ya big lug!' she yelled over din of the car engine and the smooth rock booming from the depths of the bar. 'Can you gimme a hand?'

Mattias motioned to get out of the car to help her with the bags, but Jubilee stopped him.

'Oh no you don't. It's freezing out there. You've been great, and I'm not having you catch a cold on my account. If you could just pop the trunk, Harry'll get the bags.'

And with that she bounded out the passenger side to retrieve the sleeping Shogo from the back seat, taking no notice of the verbal lashing from the cranky barkeep for being out so late with a baby.

Shogo wailed as his mom undid his straps. Awoken from his comfy slumber, he obviously wasn't ready for the ride to be over. Mattias sympathised with the little guy.

'Don't cry, Sho,' his mother soothed. 'We'll have you warm and snuggled up in a bit. You don't want Dr Holgersson remembering you with such a grumpy face, now, do you?'

Shogo obviously didn't give a flying poop what the good doctor thought and let out another unhappy wail. He much preferred the smooth rocking of the warm car and the soothing sounds of low murmuring voices to the unwelcome cold outside.

With Shogo on her shoulder, Jubilee lifted the seat and turned around to find the Scot standing behind her. Ignoring the grimace on his mug, she sweetly asked: 'Harry, can you take this for me?'

Holding out the car seat, Harry grumbled as he took it off her hands, allowing the young mother a better grip on her fussy infant.

Once Shogo was wrapped up warm and ready to go, she moved towards the driver's side window. Mattias looked up as Jubilee lowered her face to his, and he noticed that even in the cold she emanated warmth.

'I so owe you for tonight,' she said.

He assured her that it was his pleasure.

'I promise to totally make it up to you. Sho, say thank you to Dr Holgersson.'

The boy wiggled a small arm from under his tight wrappings, and Jubilee took his hand, waving it up and down in that puppeteer motion all parents do. Mattias reached for the chubby hand, and a tiny fist closed around his woolen pinky.

'I'd better get him inside," she said. 'Thanks again!'

And with that Miss Jubilation Lee was gone, ushered into the bar by Harry as he bemoaned the ills of a world where children had babies and stayed out all night in the cold.

Next Time: Action as the X-Men encounter the mysterious Jersey Stalker...