Jean stared at her history book, puzzled. What had just happened? Charles had never been so brief in the past, and she found herself wondering what he was talking about. Felt anything? Before this her biggest worry had been trying to remember when the Battle of Trafalgar Square had been.
She flipped the page when she felt something akin to a cry in her head. It made her feel weak in the stomach, and she bent her head, trying to stop from throwing up.
A hand touched her shoulder. Scott was looking at her, worried. Jean quickly glanced around. No one else was looking. Good. It did give her a momentary pause as to why Scott had been looking at her to start, but she shook it off.
She gave him a small shrug, but she also bit her lip. What was going on?
"Now, if you could all turn to page-" her teacher began.
There was a rumbling upstairs, where the offices were. Jean slammed her book shut and took off running. Footsteps began behind her, but they were too light to be her teacher's. Scott's then?
She took the stairs two at a time, heading upstairs.
Professor? she asked, Professor?
No answer. Her heart leapt into her throat and she pushed herself forward. The wood on the second floor was rumbling, and the pictures were falling off the walls. A vase tumbled off a nearby table and shattered on the floor.
She dodged the pieces but kept up her pace. Jean felt grateful for Mystique's training, for whatever it was that kept her running toward a hall that seemed to become increasingly long, elastic. It looked downright wobbly.
Jean turned a corner so fast she slid slightly. She had to fight the skid and return back to balance. The walls were beginning to smudge, or was that her vision? She hoped it was the latter, but couldn't rule it out.
Scott was suddenly beside her, but she didn't stop to tell him what she knew, or what she dreaded. Her fears were confirmed when she saw the door to the Professor's office was open slightly.
Breathing hard, she pushed the door the rest of the way open. The Professor was lying on the floor, his wheelchair having been tipped over. Blood was pouring from his nose and the side of his mouth, onto the floor.
Panic latched onto her, but there wasn't time for it to fully sink its claws in. Next to him Kevin knelt, one hand on the Professor's shoulder. His whole body was trembling as he shook him, tears rolling from his eyes. Each whimpered breath sent another tremor through the walls, warping them.
Scott clattered in, stumbling and staring at what he saw. She grabbed his arm.
"Scott, get Hank!" she said, "He's teaching anatomy right now. B12, okay?"
She would have called him herself, but she couldn't spend time figuring out which mind was his. Whatever Kevin was doing, it needed to be dealt with, and she needed to administer what first aid she knew. That would take all her concentration.
Scott gaped at the room, his eyes focused on Kevin. He'd noticed it too.
"Jean..." he said cautiously.
"I can take care of it," she snapped, "Go!"
Scott gave her a doubtful look, but ran off. Jean swallowed and tentatively approached. Kevin didn't seem to notice, just like he hadn't seemed to notice her conversation with Scott. His face was blotchy, his body still shaking.
"Kevin," she said.
He didn't turn. She touched his shoulder and he jerked. Nearby, three books flew out of the bookcase.
"Kevin, look at me," she said.
"I can't," said Kevin, his eyes still fixed on the Professor, "He needs to...I need to..."
"Listen, you need to let me take a pulse-"
"Go away!"
The entire bookshelf collapsed, the books spilling onto the floor. She looked at them, feeling her heart rate speed up. If Kevin wouldn't let her close, she doubted he would let Hank anywhere near the Professor. And the Professor really needed Hank to take a look at him.
Her eyes returned to Kevin. In so many ways, Jean understood. She really, really did. When her father had brought her to the Institute, she'd been frightened, disappointed in herself. The Professor had shown her what it was to be strong, to do something good with her mutation.
She also remembered what it had felt like when she'd felt Nur destroying the Professor's mind, felt him in danger, and she hadn't known how to help. He'd called her later, and she'd rushed to action, but that memory of helplessness was still strong in her mind.
And the Professor was dating Kevin's mother, who was missing. Kevin had clung to him as a safe harbor, and now he'd walked in on him with blood pooling on the floor. Yes, she would scream and throw things too.
"You need to concentrate," she said, "You're breaking things Kevin. You're..."
She looked at the smudging, blurry walls. What was he doing exactly? It wasn't good, that much she knew, but what was it?
"You need to stop Kevin," she said.
"He won't wake up," Kevin wept.
She moved closer, and cracks appeared in the floor.
"Shhhh," she said, "Shhhh. Let me get closer Kevin."
"Why won't he wake up?!"
A vase shattered. Jean swallowed.
"Kevin," she said, "I can help him if I get close. So can Hank, but you need to let me get close."
The boy was still crying, still frantically shaking him, but when she moved closer nothing shattered, cracked or fell. However, when she went to touch the Professor, take his pulse, the items on the desk clattered to the floor. A letter opener landed tip first into the wall.
"Please," Jean said, "I know you can't lose him. I can't lose him either. But unless I get close, I can't find out what's wrong."
Kevin's movements slowed, and then stopped. He closed his eyes, still shaking and crying. Jean looked back and forth from the Professor to Kevin. She didn't see any sign she could continue from the child, but it was worth the risk. She reached out and grasped the Professor's wrist.
Nothing happened. She did, however, feel a steady pulse. Jean let out a relieved breath. He was still alive, but she didn't like where the bleeding was coming from. He'd had traces of blood around his nose and mouth the night Moira disappeared. He'd said he'd followed her mind from place to place. It had taken almost everything. Had he done something even bigger? Without Cerebro.
She turned him over slightly, and saw that blood had, indeed, come out of his nose. However, blood had also come out of his mouth. If this was psychic in nature, and she had the feeling it was, given his earlier comments, then that didn't make much sense.
Vaguely, she remembered hearing about posterior nosebleeds. The blood would be from the deepest part of the nose and come from the mouth. Either way, he needed to be propped up, and the Professor was heavy. His legs might not work, but that hadn't stopped him from building muscle in his upper body.
If she used her powers, again, it wouldn't do her concentration any help. She needed everything she could remember what to do, because the panic was sinking in now. Jean looked at Kevin. The room was back to normal, although it was a mess.
"Kevin, help me prop him up," she said, "I need to help stop the bleeding."
Kevin opened his eyes and looked at her blankly.
"Help me," she said.
He nodded once and moved Working together, they managed to get him into something approximating a seated position. He was still bleeding, and Jean could feel it on her hands and arms. Oh God.
Freeing one of her hands, she grabbed the sleeve of the Professor's jacket and used it to pinch his nose. It was putting pressure, but what if the blood was blocking one of his airways?
Hank burst through the door. He looked scared, but he deftly picked his way through the scattered items. Jean looked up at him beseechingly and, in one movement, he gathered the Professor in his arms and picked him up.
"Jean, right his wheelchair," Hank said.
She did so, and Hank sat him down in it. He grabbed what looked like a handkerchief from his pocket and used it to apply pressure. Kevin stood by him as Hank opened the Professor's mouth. Taking out another handkerchief, he started to clean the blood from his lips, examining him.
"Who found him?" asked Hank.
"Me," Kevin said, his voice small.
"Did you hear something?"
Kevin shook his head.
"He was...talking to me earlier," he said, "And he stopped, and I was worried.
"What did he look like when you did?" asked Hank.
"He was on the floor, like, maybe, he'd fallen," Kevin said shakily, "There was blood on the floor, and he wouldn't move. He wouldn't get up!"
"I understand," said Hank.
Jean stared at Hank. His calm, even tone was something she yearned for.
"But we're going to fix that," Hank said, "Now, everyone, what led up to this?"
"He asked me if I felt something in my head," Jean said, "I didn't. I think it might have just been him."
"No, it wasn't," said Kevin, his eyes wide, "He asked me, and I felt it."
Jean looked at him in surprise. While she knew Kevin had enormous potential, she'd believed, perhaps vainly, that he wasn't as powerful as she was. She had felt Nur, and the Professor hadn't. What was this?
"Okay, I can only treat what's happening physically," said Hank, "I can't fix any sort of mental damage."
Scott ran in, carrying Hank's medical bag. He opened it and looked around the room, giving Jean a questioning look. She merely sighed in response. Hank started grabbing gauze and cotton balls.
"I need one of you to go in there and find out if anything's wrong," he said, his voice firm.
"I'll do it," Kevin said.
"No," said Jean, "I've been doing this longer."
Kevin nodded, although he still looked disturbed. In truth, Jean wasn't quite sure what she was going to do. However, she'd seen what Kevin would do if he saw the Professor in pain. She couldn't risk him doing that while in a mind.
She put two fingers to her head, calming herself as the Professor had taught her to do years ago. Inside, his mind felt like a labyrinth. A labyrinth in the shape of the school, but the halls were longer, more winding.
Most people, she knew, didn't have minds like this. They had minds that could be felt out. But telepaths, over time, he thought they might build their own fortresses. He'd only been in one other telepathic mind before, but he said she'd had a physical defense. However, both she and the Professor had both built places of safety separately.
It might be different if it were someone else's mind, but she'd been there before. She took off running.
"Professor!" she shouted, "Professor!"
No answer. She skidded past the halls. No one was there, but there was a cool mist rising through the halls. Was it always so dark in here? She had only been here briefly, he'd only told her that he had created his own walls before.
"Professor!"
She saw a light on in one of the rooms. Jean opened it, and there were people in it, but not him. She saw Moira picking up Kevin in the Professor's office, the two of them laughing. Jean could see the gold band on Moira's finger.
Jean ran past the hall. Further down she saw another room, filled with students and life. They were at their desks. No Professor. A room with the X-men. He wasn't there either. At every room with light, every room with people, he wasn't there.
"Professor!"
She paused for a minute, thinking. Where would he be, where hadn't she looked? Jean took off downstairs to where the X-men's halls were, the sleek, metallic halls. She rounded a corner and saw the Professor at the doors of Cerebro, on his feet, still with a full head of hair.
"Professor!" she yelled.
He turned and looked at her, surprised. Jean ran up to him, panting.
"Wake up," she said, "Please."
"Jean, you shouldn't be here," he said, "I...why did you feel you needed to come in here? What happened?"
"You passed out in your own blood," said Jean, "Kevin was crying, Professor, wake up!"
His face firmed up, and he gave her a brief nod.
"Thank you for telling me for...waking me up," he said, "I didn't realize I'd passed out...I suppose that was the floor coming up..."
He looked disturbed, but just shook his head.
"I'll be there soon. I promise."
She opened her eyes and saw the Professor splutter. Kevin immediately grabbed his hand, and the Professor squeezed back.
"I'm sorry for worrying you," the Professor murmured.
"You're okay?" asked Kevin.
He smiled and pushed some of Kevin's hair behind his ear.
"Yes, I am," he said, "I just...there's just some work I need to do."
"No, you don't. You're resting," said Hank, "What even happened?"
The Professor used his spare hand to rub his temples.
"I ran into a...mechanical device of some kind when I was looking for the source of...a feeling," he said, "It pushed me further than I thought, a block...but never mind."
Jean thought of that day on the plane, being unable to reach the pilots. Was this that? She opened her mouth to remind him of what she, Scott and Kurt had discovered, but the Professor looked at Hank, his face determined.
"I need to find out everything about someone named Nathaniel Essex who would have any sort of connection to Stryker or advanced technology," he said, "And I need it now."