The explosion had come much sooner than Erik had expected. When it did rip through the air, he'd been thrown to his ground. He'd expected the searing touch of fire, of crushing concrete, but all he'd felt was soft earth.

He looked up and found himself in a clearing. Raven was a few feet away, trying to make sure Stryker was still secured. Kayla had sat up, her eyes dazed but searching. She'd been in the sniper position to give them cover. She hadn't been anywhere near them.

Erik stumbled to his feet, looking around. In the distance, he could see a plume of smoke. Something scorched and greasy was in the air, unpleasant and all-too familiar. He coughed once, and then looked back at the small group, a group he was only now realizing was divisible by two.

Two people per trip. Peter had told him once that was his maximum. He only had so many arms, he'd said, and he needed to make sure no one had whiplash if he moved too fast. Only, because of Stryker, their group hadn't been divisible by two. Their group would've required three trips.

The realization appeared to be dawning on Kayla too. She stumbled to her feet, all but kicking away the gun. Her eyes were wide and troubled. No doubt she was calculating whether or not Logan could survive an explosion, if his healing factor would restore flesh destroyed by fire or limbs scattered to the four winds.

But there was a chance it could, and Logan was very far from Erik's mind. Peter, while he healed fast, did not heal that fast. The very fact that he wasn't there showed that the little idiot had gone back for a third trip.

"Peter!" Erik shouted.

He turned back, more anger than actual worry building up. Worry was not helpful, could not be helpful at the moment. What was the little brat thinking? That he was going to be a hero by getting himself blown up by someone who might have been able to heal? Was he that stupid?

As he took a step toward the factory, he felt another gnawing thought inside. Peter wasn't an idiot. He'd play the fool for laughs, but he'd seen the bright intellect behind his dark eyes, waiting.

No. Peter hadn't been stupid when he'd gone back for Logan. He'd done the same calculations Kayla had and decided they weren't good enough to leave Laura fatherless. He'd decided to take a risk, because that's who he was. He was reckless, but he always had a reason for something as dangerous as this. He knew what he wanted, and he wasn't afraid to go after it, even if it might cost his life.

Now, for the first time in a long time, something pure like fear grew-

The wind blew past him, stirring his hair and clothes. Erik's head whipped around and Peter was standing there, half-supported by Logan. The two let go, Peter yanking his goggles down around his soot-stained neck. Kayla rushed forward, wrapping her arms around her lover's neck.

"Aw, cinematic ending!" Peter shouted.

The anger returned.

"What the hell were you thinking?" Erik demanded.

The grin started to slip from Peter's face.

"Um…you might hafta be more specific," he said.

"If you only had time for two trips, getting yourself killed while trying to save someone else is not productive!" he snapped, "It's stupid!"

"Hey," Peter said, raising his hands defensively, "We're both alive, okay? It worked out."

"Look," said Logan, his arms resting around Kayla's waist, "Not that I ain't grateful, but I was at Nagasaki."

Peter gave him a look for a minute, his face confused.

"Second nuclear bomb!" he shouted, clapping his hands together, "I read about that in history class. So...wait...you survived...oh."

There was a long pause, and then Peter threw his hands into the air.

"Yeah, thanks for sharing with the class!" he snapped.

"Kid, didn't know it was gonna come up," Logan said.

"Stop calling me kid!"

"You really should've said something," muttered Kayla, "That is never not going to be useful information."

"Great," Peter said, running his filthy hand through his filthier hair, "Great. Sunshine, damned peachy…"

He took a deep breath through his nostrils, then choked.

"Oh boy, that smells foul, whatever that is," he said, "What were they cooking in that place?"

Erik had the sudden, violent urge to tell Peter that it was human fat that was burning now, the people who hadn't been able to get out of the radius in time. Something else tamped it down though, swallowed by the stronger urge to grab Peter by the shoulders and shake some sense into him.

His intent must have shown, because Peter was suddenly putting his hands up was even backing away.

"Look," he said, "Yeah…okay. So I didn't need to go. I get that now. But like…I mean…that's now. I didn't know how good his healing factor was then. I didn't know if he was gonna survive or not and I…I mean, I couldn't take that risk. Ya know? I couldn't."

Erik clenched his hands into fists and looked away. He wanted to continue shouting at him, but, again, Peter hadn't done the stupid thing. He'd done the noble thing, something someone like Charles might do if he had the option. That was the kind of person he was, and Erik doubted that almost dying was going to stop him.

It was something Erik wanted to be proud of, but Peter had to know how dangerous all that had been. He didn't want the boy to end up dead somewhere, but he wouldn't stop. He couldn't. He'd just have to train him to be stronger, to make sure he could take whatever came after him when this happened the next time.

He turned to tell him that he wasn't angry, that refusing to leave a teammate behind was noble, but he stopped. Peter's eyes were pleading, hopeful. Something about those eyes struck him, a look that he hadn't seen in his eyes in a very, very long time. If he'd ever had that expression, he'd been far too young to realize how precious the innocence and hope it belied were.

But, not that long ago, Nina had looked at him with that expression in her eyes. It had been when she'd first started talking to animals, asking him if something was wrong with her. His wife had always told him she had his eyes, although he hadn't believed her. They were, perhaps, similar in size or shape, but they were a different color.

"Hey, um, yeah?" asked Peter.

Erik blinked, but the resemblance was still there. One of his hands drew blood from his palm.

"I'm not happy you almost got yourself killed," he said finally, "But…you did right trying to make sure the entire team was safe."

Peter's eyes lit up, basking in the acknowledgement that he'd done something good. It was the encouragement he'd likely never received as a child from a man who couldn't accept that different wasn't bad. Erik wanted to cry, Logan, Raven, Kayla be damned. Nina's eyes had done that too when he'd taken her in his arms and told her, no, nothing was wrong with her.

She was just special, because she was his daughter. Just like Peter was his son.

Hank woke up to the sound of his cell phone ringing. He yawned before fumbling for it. His sleep pattern was fairly irregular these days, but this was a special kind of exception. He'd woken up at 10 a.m., late by his standards, but he'd been up until 3 a.m. talking to Carly about some of the finer points of Arthur Miller. He'd long suspected the two could talk for hours: now he knew they could.

He'd tried to wake up at his usual hour, get dressed and get some work done. The result was he'd woken up ready for the day and then fallen asleep in the afternoon, his face on his desk and a trail of drool dripping onto the table. It felt like such a waste: he'd even put on aftershave.

His neck hurt terribly, but he still managed to get the phone up to his ear in time to answer it.

"Hank McCoy," he yawned.

"I wanted to let you know that the away team is coming back from Japan," Charles said.

"Really?" asked Hank, perking up, "That's great. Did they…were…I mean-"

"Yes," said Charles, "On all counts. They'll have to make a stop by D.C. before coming home. Levine has agreed to oversee some of the finer points of delivering the information Raven collected on Stryker, as well as the man himself."

His friend's voice held its usual calm as it spoke, but there was something underneath it all that made Hank pause. Charles sounded exhausted, but not the kind of exhausted he was. This was the kind of exhausted you got when even your fingernails were tired.

He'd only gotten into that range once or twice. Hank could only imagine what Charles had been doing on Cerebro to stretch himself to that point.

"Oh really?" asked Hank, "So…everything went smoothly?"

"More or less," Charles said, "They'll be coming here soon. I told Emma and Laura that Kayla was coming home in the next day or so."

Hank rubbed the back of his neck.

"How'd that go?" he asked.

Charles chuckled.

"I've never been tackled by someone that small before," he said, "Emma actually had to help me back up."

"Laura's a strong one," Hank chuckled.

The pain in his neck got stronger, and he shifted the phone from one side to the other.

"Now that it's over, are you going to be visiting soon?" he asked, "Because Moira really wants to see you."

"And I really want to see her," Charles said, his voice wistful, "But…the thing is…well…if she sees me right now, she'll worry."

Hank pinched the bridge of his nose.

"What did you do to yourself?" he asked.

"I believe I overextended it a little bit," confessed Charles, "Not something I want to repeat. I feel as though my head is a goldfish bowl, and the fish are all swimming inside."

"Poetic," Hank said, "But do you have any symptoms other than exhaustion."

"No, no, it's nothing like that," said Charles, "I just…I do not look so good. And I'm still getting nose bleeds every now and then."

"That's a symptom Charles!" Hank snapped.

"Hank, I've done this before," said Charles, "I just need a lie down, which I will do now that I'm done with all of this. First thing tomorrow, I'll come to the hospital. I just need to rest, and make sure Kevin gets his rest too."

Hank could almost feel the fur growing on his fingers. It had been a while since the last does of his serum, and he knew he'd need another injection within the hour so he didn't seriously start to worry the hospital staff. The feeling rising inside him, however, wasn't just caused by the approach of his threshold.

"What happened to Kevin?" he asked.

"Nothing!" Charles said, aghast, "You think I'd be so calm if something happened to Kevin?"

He immediately felt guilty, because, thinking back, that was how it had sounded.

"Okay, okay, not fair on my part," said Hank, "It's just, you mentioned him so close to you being unwell, I'm sorry."

"He's fine," Charles said, "But…I discovered the hard way two telepaths can look into Cerebro at the same time."

"Wait, what?" asked Hank, "That's not how it was designed."

"I know," Charles said, "But he felt me pass out, reached into my mind. It woke me up but, well. It's something we need to look into."

"Yeah, sure thing," said Hank, "Now get some rest."

"Trust me, I'm in my room right now. Straight to bed after this," Charles said, his voice light, "And you should get some rest too. You sound completely exhausted."

"Not as much as you. Trust me on that."

"I'll have to," said Charles, "I'll talk to you soon Hank."

"Same here."

He hung up and stretched, cracking his neck once or twice. Tucking his phone into one of his larger pockets he got up and headed out. He'd need to do his afternoon check on Moira, although he figured the doctors had already done their afternoon check-up. After that he might be able to find Carly, and maybe he could carry his point about The Crucible.

To his surprise, he saw Carly moving quickly down the hall, her cane tapping on the floor. She stopped a few feet away, turning to him. It slightly unnerved him how good she was at that, knowing where he was.

"Hank? Thank God, we've been looking for you," she said, "Usually one of the doctors would get you, but I told them I knew where your room was-"

"Hey, hey," said Hank, "Slow down. Why were they trying to find me?"

Carly swallowed.

"They just finished talking," she said, "They want to do the cesarean in the next 24 hours, and they wanted to let the father know as soon as possible, but we don't think he's in his office because he's not picking up, and I think his cell phone was broken or busy or something. She wants him here."

Hank gaped.

"Moira has so many forms to fill and...I thought you might know if he had a different number," Carly said.