Laura pulled her knees up to her chin and tucked her hands into her sleeves. She should've remembered gloves, but she hated gloves almost as much as she hated scarves. They just kept distracting her when she was in class. The tassels always wanted to be braided.

She shivered and took another long look over the grounds. There weren't any cars in the driveway, and she didn't even hear the whisper of one. It was cold and misty, so visibility wasn't very good, but there wasn't anyone else.

Laura turned back and looked into one of the small windows near the door. She could just make out the grandfather clock on the wall. It was a little after six. Emma would get herself ready for bed, and then she'd come to help her get ready. She had about ten minutes until she started to look for her.

When she did find her, she knew she would make her go inside. Emma told her her mother would be very upset if she caught a cold, which is what she had said when she'd been waiting outside when it was raining. Laura didn't see why her aunt was so worried: she was wearing her yellow rain coat and hat, and she'd had her boots on. She even had her boots on now.

She'd actually debated leaving them upstairs and slipping into her nice shoes. However, the front yard was filled with mud and puddles after the afternoon rain. So she'd kept her big yellow boots, swallowing her stockings and coming up to her knees. They squeaked when they moved.

Laura hugged herself tighter. Her parents were coming any minute now. She was sure of it. She'd see her mother, really see her, for the first time tonight. She wouldn't have blood on her, or that dead look in her eyes. Her mother would be that woman her father got quiet over, that Emma said she looked like.

And she would love her too, just like Emma and her father had loved her. Laura wanted her to love her, because everything would be so perfect fi she did. Everyone would be safe, and happy, and they could all love each other for the rest of their lives. No one would ever take them away. There would be no people like Essex who would come and hurt them. He was gone. The Professor had said so.

She had wished so hard for it for so long. She just wanted them. Her book said she could have it.

Dreams do come true, if only we wish hard enough. You can have anything in life if you will sacrifice everything else for it.

And she had given everything. She'd given her old life which, she knew, wasn't much. She'd learned to read, to be friends, not to stare at or sniff people. She'd learned to do what she was told, and to be curious. She'd even bled quietly in the kitchen, not complaining. Laura had given everything.

Now she just had to wait.

Emma finished brushing her hair. It was early to get ready for bed but, once she was done, she would have to go get Laura and get her ready. She knew her niece was anxious to meet her mother, but it wouldn't do to have her get cold or ill.

It was something to focus on rather than the trembling in her hands and soul. In a few hours, tonight perhaps, she would see her sister again. It had been three years since she'd held her in her arms. The collar would be off, her smile and flashing eyes real again.

Emma put down her brush in her kit and pulled her white bathrobe over her matching nightgown. Everything looked ready. She hesitated, and then leaned in. Slowly, she pulled back her bangs, her heart in her throat.

The scar from Cerebro had all but healed. She smiled, because she didn't really like bangs. Emma could grow them out now that there was nothing to hide,nothing to hope her sister couldn't see. She could be as beautiful, as in control, as her mother had been.

The door to the communal bathroom opened and Emma jerked back. Jean was in the doorway, her face flushing as her hands gripped her shower materials tighter to her chest. Emma shrugged and turned back to the mirror, pretending to be straightening something under her eye.

But, at the same time, she kept a discreet eye on Jean. Quietly, the girl moved behind her and put her things on a bench. Emma had kept out of Jean's way since the day she'd called her a goddman bitch or, rather, she'd made a studied habit of ignoring the other girl.

That being said, this was the first time she'd seen her since she'd spoken to Logan.

"I know from experience, that it can turn ya into an animal. Your sister showed me a different way, a way I'd almost forgotten til I found out I still had more ta lose. Because I can't be an animal. Laura doesn't need that. You don't need that."

Emma rolled her eyes, but the voice was nagging her, like it had nagged her since Logan had spoken. In her mind's eye, she could almost taste Kayla's surprise at her vitriol at a girl like Jean. She'd probably dreamed of teaching girls like that one day.

She had to do something about it.

"Did you do it on purpose?" she said.

Jean turned, startled. Emma sighed and turned around, crossing her arms over her chest.

"On Muir Island," she said, "You hurt me to the point where I wanted to die. Given some of the shit I went through, that's saying something. So. Did you do it on purpose?"

Jean was still blinking, and the nasty thought that she was supposed to be smart rose inside. Emma stored it away because, while it was true, it probably wasn't particularly helpful at the moment. Not when Kayla and Logan were so close.

"I…I'm sorry. I didn't know it would hurt that much. It's not…not what I meant to do. I just wanted you to stop," Jean said, "You were hurting everyone and I just…I didn't know what else to do."

"You know Scott had literally just convinced me to help," said Emma.

"I didn't know that," said Jean, "I just saw him screaming."

Emma looked at her for a moment longer, looking for signs of deceit. She didn't see anything.

"That kind of makes it worse you know," she said.

"What?"

"Look at it this way," said Emma, turning away and packing up her things, "There are a few things I know about you. You'd never, for example, willingly harm a child. Willingly is the key word here. If you don't have control, then you could end up hurting Laura one day."

"I don't want to," Jean said.

Her voice was emphatic, which was good.

"I know that," said Emma, "But people make other people do things all the time. I did things I'm not proud of at Muir. Kayla probably did to. People can make you do things, but at least I controlled myself into that. If the thing was bad enough, I could've chosen to die."

She finished packing up and looked back at Jean. The girl looked at her hands, at her towel and shampoo. She wondered if Essex had never touched her, had never ripped Kayla from her side, would she be like Jean? Maybe be her friend?

She doubted it. She would never have been able to be that naïve or sweet. Not with her namesake as her mother. Perhaps they might have been friends though. Emma found the thought didn't entirely repulse her.

So she made her decision.

"It's unlikely I'll feel safe around you until you get control. Maybe I won't like you very much," she said, "But I don't think you're a goddamn bitch: not anymore. And I accept your apology."

Jean looked back up at her, her mouth parted slightly. Why was this so important to her?

"Thank you," she ventured.

"Thank Logan," said Emma, "He knows a thing or two."

She turned and headed back to her room. Her hands, she realized, were trembling. Curious.

Having Peter take her first had been her own idea. Logan had wanted to go first, but Kayla had wanted an extra minute to adjust. He might be able to guide her through the school better, but she wanted a chance to get her sea legs before they went in, a chance to quell the butterflies in her stomach.

They had been boiling as she'd shopped for clothes that made her look normal. Kayla had almost forgotten what it was like to buy her own clothes. For the past three years, everything had been provided. She'd been given fantastically lavish dresses and grungy jackets for undercover missions, military fatigues for day wear.

It had been years since she'd made clothing decisions, and never with this much money. Her daughter was going to be seeing her soon too, and she wanted her first real impression of her to be good. Logan had tried to assure her that Laura already loved her, but she needed to let her know who she was.

In the end, she'd decided on burgundy slacks and dark brown boots. Her thick jacket was a soft yellow with too many buttons, tying in the middle. She was glad that it was thick because, as Peter ran, she realized just how cold it was in New York. She'd never been, but as the mists blinked past, she felt a dark chill against her skin. Peter dropped her off in front of Westchester, grinning like a fool. He'd been doing that ever since she'd gotten back from her shopping trip.

In an instant, he was gone. Soon, he'd return with Logan. She looked at the school, at the big windows. The last time she'd been there, she'd wept and screamed inside her head almost the entire time. Even before she'd seen Emma, Laura and Logan, she'd known she was attacking a school.

Her eyes trailed down and, suddenly, she became aware she was being watched. Kayla looked and saw a little girl sitting on the doorstep, her yellow boots gleaming. Her eyes were big and dark, watching Kayla like she wasn't real, but the girl was the one who had haunted Kayla's dreams.

Those eyes were her eyes, set into a face that, at least in shape, reminded her of Logan's. The girl was hunched into her sweater, but she slowly got to her feet, her dark hair spilling over her shoulders. Kayla didn't say anything, didn't move. She didn't dare.

Laura though, Laura did. She began running, her yellow boots splashing in the puddles. Kayla knelt down, watching every detail. From the hairs on the top of her head to her booted toes, she was the most beautiful thing Kayla had ever seen.

Her daughter stopped a few inches from her, suddenly bashful. Laura looked down at the ground, then back up at her. She blinked a few times, and her mouth opened. Kayla listened eagerly: she'd never heard her daughter's voice.

But Laura didn't speak, just stared. Slowly, gently, Kyla reached out with both of her hands. Her fingers touched her daughter's cheek, brushed her silken strands of hair. She cupped Laura's face, hoping her hands were warm enough for her daughter's cold face.

Laura started to smile.

"You are so very perfect," Kayla said, "In every way."

There was a noise behind them, but Kayla didn't look around. Laura didn't look up, just reached out and touched Kayla's hands.

"Is this between sleep and awake?" Laura asked, her voice a song, "When I still remember dreaming?"

Kayla's brow furrowed. Then out of time, a memory rose, first from her childhood, then from preparing to teach children about a boy who wouldn't grow up.

"Perhaps," she said, "Because this is where I'll always love you."

Laura started crying, and burrowed her way into Kayla's arms. Kayla held her tightly to her chest, the tears squeezing through her lashes. Logan knelt behind her, his heavy, warm arms on her shoulders. She leaned into his touch, but didn't let go of Laura.

The air stirred again, and Kayla just managed to look up. Emma, her baby sister, was standing before her, all grown up in a mud-splattered night gown. Peter stood beside her, smiling and stepping away as a choking gasp left Emma's lips.

Kayla reached out. Emma moved forward, throwing her arms around her neck. And it was there there, holding and being held, Kayla was finally home.

A/N: Two more chapters.