Xavier patiently sipped his own tea, and made to look out the window himself so he wouldn't just be staring at her, though she's where a large part of his attention remained.

Not all, however, as it was strange.
Over the years Xavier had come to think, light-heartedly to himself, that his secondary mutation was connecting to young people. So many troubled youths walked through these halls, at peace once they understood what he had for them. Certainly there would be those who, to put it one way, brought more "teenage attitude". Yet he'd been capable of conveying his truths to each.

Though it wasn't how Ryder remained on high alert towards him, and the Mansion, which was affecting him at the moment. He was no fool. He did not expect to win her trust and gift her security easily. He knew it would be a matter of consistency more than anything else. He expected the result to come in no short time at all.

No, what was affecting him was, for the first time, he felt he wasn't sure what to say to this youth.
Not that the words he was speaking weren't coming as easily as they ever did. They were.

Yet in these silent moments. . .though no pressure was felt to fill them as quiet was a most valuable resource for a mind, he did find himself feeling...awkward?
And Xavier realized he was speaking to Ryder almost as he would to any other he sought to help.

He felt, on this tour, in this conversation, towards her almost exactly the same as he felt guiding anyone for the first time within this place. . .He didn't know how to connect with her as a father.

It was as if in the absence of that knowing, he naturally assumed the form in which he felt most like himself: a mentor.

This troubled him.
The most natural thing to him was feeling just the opposite, now.

As if he'd drawn a familiar picture with inverted colours.

Xavier was taken from this reverie as Ryder made her statement.

He met her stare, but only responded to the next of what she said: "Well in order to do that, you would first have to tell me what that is you were trying to do?" Xavier's tone was still calm, though the possible threat didn't sit well with him. One of his X-Men, in fact his first and first student, who he'd come to consider a son and who was approaching fatherhood now himself, had been closest to Ryder's mass carnage. As such, Xavier received the threat as though it were somewhat specific, even though he understood it was general.

"You broke out of Umbra only to seem hellbent on its destruction afterward. This leaves me curious as to why you didn't simply destroy it as a means to break out?"

”Destroying the place wasn’t on my mind until you decided to chase me down, like you had a deathwish.” Ryder practically spat the words out at him. ”I could’ve been two thirds of the way to Newcastle by now, but you two had the bright idea to get in the way. You could’ve just left me the hell alone, but then you got a mob on your tail, so they got on mine. then you drag me off to another hemisphere.”

She stood up, in spite of her injuries, rather suddenly. ”The only reason I didn’t feel like wasting my time in the first place was because I didn’t care until you gave them enough of a chance to catch up with me.” That might not have been a very fair assessment of the situation, but it was the one that Ryder believed was true. To her, she could’ve escaped and would have been long gone before Umbra had their shit together in the wake of her system-wide attack. But the time they had control of the place, and verified there wasn’t an outside party hacking their systems, Ryder could’ve been in an entirely different country.

But what would she have done then? The world didn’t know she existed. She had no friends here or in the outside world. It would just be her, running for her entire life until she possibly found someone she could trust. Assuming, of course, Ryder’s ability to trust people wasn’t further eroded at such a point in the future.

Her tea was getting cold.

”So, I’ll ask you again. Why should I stick around when I don’t want to?”

Xavier met Ryder with a still level look.
That 'death wish' remark furthered his internal unease, reminding him how carefully he still ought to tread.

Perhaps they had made a critical misstep before . .Yes, even without this conversation Xavier did feel responsibility for the scene that had transpired in the forest.

It surprised him to hear her mention "NewCastle", though his face gave little away. For all he appeared, and all he would answer to, he may've missed it.
"You absolutely shouldn't."

"Indeed, with the life you've been subjected to, another moment of it in a place which does not feel right, where you do not feel safe," his eyes closed as he shook his head.

Then carefully chose his next words, "but there may well be something here for you. . . left unsaid was how he could be here for her. . .Xavier knew, at this time, she didn't care. Perhaps, she would even be more offended by the proposal. Instead, he added in nearly the same breath, "safety enough, at least, to take you through the rest of your recovery. A conclusion you've already come to, if I'm not mistaken, or I would have to question why any of us are still here."

Was that fucking reverse psychology? Some of the subhuman garbage at Umbra used it from time to time, to trick her into doing things she didn't want to.

Ryder didn't feel safe here, even if she had eyes on the entire place. Ryder didn't want to be here. But honestly where on this godforsaken planet would she want to be? Her powers gave her a connection to the entire world, and from her cage, she knew the tragedy that mutants lived in place of a life. Country after country passed laws that labelled them as beneath the ordinary human. All it would take was for someone to hold eye contact with her for long enough to get the feeling that something was up. And then it was all downhill from there.

And yet, she didn't trust Xavier. She had little reason to, beyond the fact that they poked at her and kept her alive. But that only made her want to atomize every square kilometer of the building and its surroundings. So in her brutal, survival-oriented mind, Ryder came to a crossroad: Take what she could get and risk another imprisonment that she could, realistically, get out of if she tried; Alternatively, just walk away now and figure it all out later. Ryder didn't leave things up to chance, she didn't just figure things out whenever, or leave something unaccounted for in her plans. Ryder was many things, unhinged, brave beyond logical reasoning, absolutely visceral; Chief among those qualities was strategic.

What else did she stand to lose, other than time?

"...Fine. But only because I don't want you following me after the bullet holes are gone for good." The implication there was that Ryder would leave eventually. Was she pressuring Xavier to show an unseen hand? To try and make sudden plea for her to stay in spite of what he had already said? Who could say?

Interestingly enough, not her.

"I still don't trust you, or any of you. I dare you to forget that. Now, where were we going?"

At first, Xavier had an inkling his words weren't chosen carefully enough, Ryder's ongoing suspicion being palpable.

But then...she relented. Her explanation rather reminding him of other youths not wanting to appear as if they were in agreement with the reasonings of an authority figure. He could've smiled, had the situation not the context that it did.

"I believe we were going outside," he answered. Noticing her untouched tea yet making no comment about it.
Instead he started leading the way.

---

From up in her attic bedroom / greenhouse, Storm happened to see when Xavier and Ryder exited the Mansion.

There was something she was of the mind to present to Ryder, though she felt it could wait until she returned from being out in nature.

---

Meanwhile, Jean had paused Scott by their aforementioned tree.

While she was enjoying a walk, a figurative time away from the challenges around them and precious time together, they needed to talk.

"Scott. . .Since I could, you'd wanted to feel our baby move. Now every time you do you take your hand away."

Scott looked away.

"We can't reverse this. . .If you've changed your mind about it-" Scott looked up. It was one of the times Jean wished she could see his eyes
-she couldn't read the rest of his face, and he wasn't saying anything. ". . .I need you to get it together."

Scott's gaze averted again. Though just slightly, it prompted Jean to avert hers; misunderstanding. . .disappointed.

"I still want this. . .A family, like anyone else. .
. .Except we're not."

Jean looked at him.

"Look at what Ryder's life has been like -why she even has one in the first place. Because one more person, or group, looks at us like weapons they want a piece of or want to understand enough to be able to take down. . . .And what do we know about where Umbra's interests lie beyond the Professor's genes? Maybe they knew."

He looked down again, this time at the place their child was, and actually returned his hand there.
Jean shifted with clear mental discomfort as she started thinking over her interactions at Umbra. . .had she been blind to a reality that she was lured there?

Scott went on: "As soon as our baby is born or even earlier, it becomes something anyone else can take possession of." He felt it and did shift his hand, but this time as though to align it more directly overtop. "Each time I feel it reminds me how we're nearing that point, while this whole situation with Ryder makes it feel like we're only further away from peace." His hold became more protective of them both as he slid his hand around her waist,

while Jean set her hand nearly where his had just been. Her other hand coming to his chest; understanding now,
her head bowing beside his.

". . .if anyone even has the thought to try taking this away from us."
Her fingers curled against his chest, which she felt expand with a deliberate slow, deep breath through the physical pain.

And Scott took her fully in his arms;
protective solidarity.

---

It was in this partial embrace that Xavier and Ryder would find them, though not quite come up on them; Ryder and Xavier being on the path, while the shady tree was several yards off it a little further on. As Xavier had suspected, some of the students were out here as well; off the path some distance in the opposite direction.

Xavier noticed his two X-Men, and felt for them for whatever serious conversation he could tell they'd had. Discretely he turned his attention the other way, towards the actions of the 3 young mutants closest in sight. "It looks like some of the children have started a game of 'mutant ball'," Xavier observed allowed both for conversation's sake, and for the privacy of the adults if Ryder's attention had been on them, "essentially whatever regular ball game they choose, with mutations allowed."

The game of choice today seemed to be 'Piggy in the Middle', with a short pre-teen managing to get out of the middle position better than one of the taller teenagers who took it up next.

Ryder followed the old man out, and chose to ignore the laser-eye person and the psychic bitch who stitched her up. They were doing their own thing, so she really hoped they didn't turn and see her, only to run over and act all happy and outgoing. Ryder would've just yelled at them to fuck off if such a thing happened, and since it didn't, she just kept her eyes peeled on the numerous kids running around. It was, admittedly, a nice day out. Ryder's eyes fell halfway shut, she was unaccustomed to being out in the sun on a day as clear as this. She lived in a cell, several floors below the ground, with only fluorescent lights and a clock to tell her what the time of day was. This was unusual, in a way.

She didn't make eye contact with the three kids running around. She just watched.

"Doesn't seem very special to me," she commented.

Xavier smiled. "Mutants simply being themselves."

Though Ryder's comment may've been from the mutations not being on full display in that moment.

The pre-teen could stretch their arms, but hadn't needed to much when they were in the middle, as the older teen who'd thrown the ball hadn't managed a good toss. "I won't be here long," the older teen could be heard saying cockily from their place now in the middle, "I'm much better at catching." They began rubbing their hands together, as if in anticipation.

Older Teen #2: "You can try." They held their hand up as if in prep for a throw, yet made no other arm or hand movement. Instead, the ball was propelled by a jet of air from their palm.

Older Teen #1 reached up, using their built up static electricity to easily attract the ball directly into their own hand. "Ha ha, told ya'."

The older teens swapped positions.

Stretchy Kid: "Catch this!" They stretched their arm unnaturally back, and lobbed the ball as though they were a catapult.

The static electricity teen made a no-way-it-was-gonna'-work attempt even as they joined in with the air-jet teen in protest:
"Come on! Didja' have to go that far?!"
"Not just 'out of' -bounds obliterated!"

Yet before the ball got lost in the glean of the sky, it could just be seen halting, then coming back down in a gradual manner.

"Maybe you guys should try breaking personal records," Jean commented with a smile, presently levitating the ball in front of the kids until one took it.

Air-jet Teen: "Thanks, Dr. Grey. Not a bad idea."
Static Teen: "Better than 'not bad'! You guys throw and I'll grab 'em. Let's start close."

They rearranged themselves into position side-by-side, looking out towards the breadth of the grounds. Though while Air-jet Teen was starting things off, Stretchy Kid twisted around to look at the new kid with Xavier, having noticed them when the three had turned to face Jean.

The older teens' "close" starting round hardly went the length of a person. They noticed Stretchy Kid wasn't paying attention, but themselves didn't seem too interested in a new kid.

Air-jet Teen: "You wanna' lob one, Dr. Grey?"

Jean declined, instead stepping over to Xavier and Ryder.

Static Teen: "Hey Cyclops! How about you? Let's see you hit it!"

Cyclops looked towards Jean, Xavier and Ryder, then stepped towards the kids. "Well then you guys wouldn't have a ball."

Static Teen whacked Stretchy Kid to get his attention back: "C'mon, give 'em another lobber. Let's see if he can get it from as high as Jean could."

"Maybe once you guys are tired. Let's see what you can do a little more."

Meanwhile, Jean spoke to who essentially had been her charge these past three weeks: "Hello, Ryder. It's good to meet you properly. . .I'd like to apologize for barging into your mind earlier, and before then. My telepathy's been off." Jean wasn't going to be surprised if Ryder didn't take this as the truth it was, but whether trusted or not she felt it should be said. "It's possibly from seeing -from feeling how your existence has been."

"I found the secret rooms at Umbra," she added, in case Ryder might think Jean had gone deeper in her mind than she'd realized, which of course Jean hadn't.

"Naively, I thought you might've been opening the connection when I found myself in your mind without intending to be. . ." Her gaze fell briefly at this admittance, but then met Ryder's directly: "I know what it's like to have your mind invaded," Jean's gaze held as she spoke earnestly, "it's one of the last things I'd want to do to another person."

Ryder watched the kids use their powers to toss the ball around, momentarily zoning out to look around at everything else. These kids were just playing without a care in the world out here, and it felt almost weird to witness. No one was looking over their shoulders, staring holes through the back of someone else’s heads, or looking suspicious in the corner of her vision.

It was not the sort of environment she was accustomed to.

So maybe that was why she didn’t appreciate Jean walking up to her and apologizing. And the first thing she jumped to after that was Umbra. Umbra this, Umbra that.

Jean saw the hole she lived in, the glorified prison cell that was her entire existence.

The mere mention of that dig into her like toothpicks under her fingernails.

”Of course I didn’t invite you in. Why in the hell would I do something like that? You’re lucky I didn’t put you in a catatonic state after that. Or for picking at me like a thresh corpse for the last three weeks.” Venom, vitriol and everything between. It was always that and nothing more with her. The first words she properly spoke to Jean, the first impression, was that Ryder was not a kind individual.

She didn’t care if the other kids were looking at her funny for that. If they were intimidated, good. If not, oh well.

”You seem pretty shortsighted for someone who’s supposed to be some sort of scientist.”

Though the distance between the kids and those on the path was close enough that regular speaking tones could be overheard if the kids had been quiet enough, Static Teen was too self-absorbed and in-the-moment to be interested, and too rowdy not to keep even curious Stretchy Kid from following.

Cyclops, however, positioned a little back from the kids, was making a point to keep aware of what was going on behind him.
Jean's words had been spoken in a respectfully low tone, which he didn't hear -but he just managed to catch Ryder's.

Immediately he looked back, controlling himself enough to keep the stare he cast at Ryder from being a glare.
Like Jean, it wasn't like he was expecting a cordial response. In fact this fell pretty much in line with expectation. But it got under his skin that someone who Jean had actually been caring for these past three weeks, who she had only empathy for, was speaking so acidically to her.

That being said, Cyclops wasn't about to potentially make things worse by starring daggers at an every-right-to-be-angry kid who could back up their threats if they wanted. . .If. Ryder's reference to the medical "picking" confirmed she'd been awake enough to at least process what was going on. Yet not taking it for what it was, she had taken it.

At this point Cyclops' eyes shifted behind his visor towards Jean.
It could've appeared as though he were still staring at Ryder, if not also for a subtle shift of his head.

Contrarily, a first direct impression of Ryder wasn't being cemented in Jean's mind; she was thinking of the one she'd just made -feeling she could've mind-zapped herself in realizing what she just did now, having brought this up.

The way the mental waves she felt from Ryder had shifted...They had been. . ."peaceful" wasn't even close to the right word, but there had been a certain. . ."distance" within them. A promising distance.

And Jean should've kept hers.
Ryder was right. How could she not have read this situation correctly? No- how could she have gotten it this wrong?

Even without that full breadth of context, Cyclops could tell Jean wasn't offended by Ryder's response but embarrassed, as he eyed the shift in her body language.

The steadiness of Jean's gaze faltered, while she made to recompose herself; thoroughly put in her place.

"Jean acted in accordance with making sure we didn't overlook anything in your medical treatment, while avoiding further discomfort as well as could be under such circumstances," Xavier spoke up. Not sharply. Yet certainly correctively. Was this completely true, or something of a hypocritical statement? They had, after all, discovered the "something" imbedded deep in Ryder's brain, and confirmed her DNA matched Xavier's.

Yet scans of her entire body was just prudent when 1. -in the immediate concern, nobody had actually witnessed what went down before Ryder finally did back in the forest; she could've had injuries beyond those that were known or readily discernable, and 2. -in the forward thinking concern, what else could her body tell them about her that was imperative to know?

Likewise and to that end, they had needed to draw blood for such reasons as typing to replace what she'd lost, and to understand specifically where she was health-wise.

Jean's attention shifted to Xavier before landing back on Ryder.
While she appreciated Charles' support, the truth was Jean could've spoken up in her own defense had she not been of the mind that such a response was unlikely to make a difference.

Ryder scoffed at Xavier's response, turning around and looking at him with a marginally unamused look. "I wasn't born yesterday. Is doing DNA tests on me and running MRIs to look at cybernetics you can't poke at your definition of "avoiding further discomfort?" Or did you just think I didn't know about that, too?" Ryder tipped her hand, to prove a point more than anything. She knew more about what they were doing than she let on, even more so than what she had screamed into Xavier's subconscious by trying to scare the shit out of him. While she pretended to be out cold, Ryder had physically listened to their conversations through speakers in electronics. Their phones, microphones in computers, everything that could make a machine hear things was an extension of her senses.

But there was also the admission that Ryder knew about the tech rooted at the center of her brain, too deep for anyone without outlandishly advanced facilities to even consider embedding in someone's brain without leaving them in a vegetative state. "I'm not sure what your definition of "comfort" is, but I know damn well mine doesn't involve DNA tests when people think I'm out cold. So you're both gonna have to try a little harder than that if you don't wanna seem like massive fucking hypocrites."

This time, staring steadily again, Jean did speak up; still keeping her voice low.
Her tone wasn't argumentative yet held quiet authority -and a slight edge from her purposeful use of blunt wording.

"We took your blood initially so we wouldn't kill you transfusing an incompatible type, and afterward so you wouldn't die by us treating you with only guesswork. . .I verified your DNA with one of those samples. As for the MRI, we certainly weren't looking for something we never entertained would be there. . ." By this point, the edge dropped off. Jean had found that discovery unsettling.

Her gaze had also dropped, but she met Ryder's eyes once more as she added compassionately: "I'm sorry for causing you more pain."
This apology was meant both for what had been done while Ryder was "unconscious", and for the misstep Jean had made a minute ago.

Ryder didn't miss the fact that Cyclops was giving her a look, and shot it back just for the sake of it.

Looking back at Jean, in visible disbelief. "I don't care. I know damn well you don't have to run DNA tests to verify if someone's allergic to certain medicines. You just run a blood type test," She was bickering at Jean as if she were the adult, and Jean was the child. "It just so happens that I got subjected to a lot of those back at Umbra, so I know you're bullshitting me when I see it."

"Something you're gonna need to get used to is that I wasn't born yesterday. I know better than to just take all of you dumb fucks are your word. You might have someone else fooled by telling them you're just doing innocent little things here and there but that doesn't get past me." In Ryder's mind, all they had done up to this point was one shifty thing after another. They hadn't earn a single ounce of trust, and were only digging themselves deeper with no clear way to get on her good side...

...If she had one.

"You think you're clever, acting like you're just here to help people and protect them, but you turn around and pull shit like that. Next time it happens, I'll just crack someone open and strangle whoever tries to stop me with what comes out." a disturbing threat, but not an unrealistic or even far-fetched one coming from Ryder. She really did not appreciate being poked at.

Now Cyclops' stare had transitioned into a glare, as evidenced by the increased tenseness of his brow and jaw lines.
He had been shifting his attention between Jean and Ryder while they spoke, and though he still could only hear one side of the conversation, he could tell Jean had -for the second time- expressed remorse.

Jean's open heart. One of the defining characteristics of the woman who forever held his, and it was being looked at as nothing more than a deception tactic.

Fine -that was the sole interaction Ryder knew all her years.
Still -to count Jean in with those Umbra scientists? Surely even Ryder could perceive some difference.

This time, Jean met Ryder with a level stare throughout Ryder's entire speech. True, the DNA testing hadn't had to be done, but as blood already drawn had been used, it was deemed a harmless and in fact valuable additional measure. Jean could admit certain other considerations, the ones Ryder was elucidating, had gone overlooked.

But it was made just as clear Ryder wasn't going to take anything as anything other than a spin.

While Jean had started this derailed conversation from a desire to make peace with Ryder for Ryder's sake, there was another reason that was underlined now.

Every part of Jean wanted to state, clearly and unmistakably, that Ryder would not harm anyone here.
But something about the vibe Ryder gave off made Jean hold this back; lest Ryder take it as an invitation to show these "dumb fucks" exactly how serious she was.

"I'll keep that in mind," Jean stated instead, eying Ryder a moment longer before breaking eye contact to cast Xavier a departing glance; "excuse me."

She decided to go see if she could make any progress with the others they'd brought back from Umbra -rather, with tracking down their families. While records seemed to indicate some parental consent, so far they proved either either out of date or manufactured, as the X-Men hadn't been able to locate any such family from the recorded details.

The lack of mutant presence in the area otherwise had them considering a few situations: the children came from non-mutant families who wanted no ties to them either for the children's own safety, or because they despised them; the families felt they were leaving their children in a safe environment, and had gone to find one of their own; their families were killed. . .Or some mix of all of the above.

Still, the X-Men tried. A few weeks wasn't a long enough time to consider concluding such a search.

Before Jean walked away, she also made eye contact with Scott; an acknowledging / 'see you later' kind of exchange.

Unfortunately -or to be seen what it was- the mix of strong language and "crack someone open and strangle" had managed to do what such unappealing things tend to -catch the ears of innocent youth. The two teenagers and pre-teen just behind Cyclops now had their eyes this way as well, trying to figure out the context.

Air-jet Teen: "I think Dr. Grey just got chewed out."
Static Teen: "Who is that kid?"

Stretchy-Kid just watched quietly.

Scott shifted his attention their way. "Someone new, but nevermind right now. She's still settling in. . .Why don't you lob me a shot, after all?"

There wasn’t much left to say about the outside world. Ryder had everything she needed through her powers, and Xavier’s tour was just an excuse to stretch her legs. With a perpetual chip on her shoulder, she went back inside later that day, and Xavier found her an unused room to sleep in. Ryder wasn’t in a position to pick and choose what she was given- or rather, she didn’t perceive it as such- and so she accepted it. Night after night went by, and she adamantly refused to be subjected to any further medical attention. No bandage changes, no check-ups. Even when Ryder seemed to be doing fine externally, her mind did not wind down on the inside.

Her mind did not have a concept of being wound down, or being calm. Calm to her was a pattern of navigating through violence and coming out in a collected manner. It was the eye of a storm, surrounded by wrath and fury and removed from it, yet never breaking pace or faltering.

That was peace to Ryder, and for that reason, she didn’t sleep.

Days went by all the same for anyone else, as if Ryder were just a ghost who came and went. And like a ghost, she stalked the school in the dead of night. Every time the sun went down and everyone went indoors, Ryder’s body refused to let her fall asleep. She always stayed awake for days, even weeks at a time, since Umbra regularly dragged her away from her cage at random intervals. It was well past 12am tonight, and Ryder stood on the path in front of the main doors that led out into who-knows-where.

Her eyes felt heavier than usual. Being shot and wounded gravely had taken a toll on her pattern of keeping on guard, leaving her wearier. Ordinarily, she could stay up for a few more days at minimum. She didn’t want to fall asleep here. She had to avoid that eventuality in the same way a predator had to constantly watch a rival; Not doing so went against everything they knew, and would only get them killed.

So when she heard footsteps coming up behind her, Ryder did as a predator would do. She turned around, and locked eyes with them.

”What?” She wasn’t in a social mood right now. So the first reaction to being approached was… Unamused, to put it lightly.

"...instead I took something from her."

"What do you mean?"

"I could feel her mind starting to. . .I think disconnect from what she's known, in some small way. . .maybe start to see what we're trying to show her." Jean closed her eyes regretfully, reproachfully, "then I brought her right back to that place."

"You didn't intend to."

"That doesn't matter. I should've realized in time to stop myself -and I should've known something was going on at Umbra."

Scott didn't agree Jean should be so hard on herself; this was clear in his manner as he responded: "Umbra had been keeping the child of Charles Xavier in their sub-basement for a decade and a half. Those people knew what they were doing in the psi-defense department."

"This goes beyond telepathy, Scott. . .I haven't felt like myself in other ways."

At this he only looked at her, before taking her hand.

"This pregnancy is affecting me in ways I couldn't have anticipated. . .and still with several months to go."

He looked down...this was a problem he couldn't solve.

The conversation, the realities of it, played back through Jean's mind the night of that first day Ryder was properly awake.

Subsequent nights her mind filtered through different recent events...like finding Scott gasping for life in the levelled forest...the X-rays, Ryder's, and actually Logan's from years ago, as a piece of another recent conversation filtered through her mind "she's unlike anyone else who's ever been brought here. The closest comparison would be Logan and even he was only too happy to have you connect with him."

Jean hadn't actively made another attempt to connect with Ryder since that moment on the Grounds. . .Just tried to remain open to her. Remembering, in fact, how Xavier was with her when he had first brought Jean to the school. She'd had her own reasons to be afraid. Not of him or the environment, but of her own powers. He didn't push her into feeling comfortable with them...just supplied her with what she needed and let her come to a "relationship" more or less on her own.

With Ryder, it came to be agreed to take an even more hands-off approach than they had been. . .just keep her supplied with what she needed.

Her refusal of further medical treatment felt like a step back, though Jean could understand. . .Ryder had to give herself over to them when her body was too damaged. In a way it was like her "receptors flattened" to allow her to tolerate this. But once strong enough, all her alert systems dialed up again.

The most that was extended in way of further connection, was when Storm had gifted her with a couple of plants -a tabletop size and one for the floor- from her greenhouse, for Ryder to keep in her room: "So you may keep the outdoors with you, even when you must be inside." They were a hardy variety, which Storm had selected both so Ryder wouldn't have to worry with particular plant care, and because they reminded Storm of her; surviving in unideal conditions. This latter aspect of the gift went unsaid.

Ryder was also invited to visit Storm's greenhouse "I find nature more agreeable company at times".
And that was that.

Keep her supplied with what she needed, be it means of sustenance, self-care or space.

Interestingly, it was the very man whose example Jean thought back to that was having the hardest time with that last point.

"Look, either the kid is gonna' see value in you and all this or she isn't. You understood that with me."

"This is a different matter, Logan, and you know that."

"Yeah, because she's yours. . .She isn't."

And so it was fact that Ryder wasn't the only one with an affected sleep schedule.

Xavier, too, found himself awake. There were questions, many questions without answers...without even places to find them...If he had known Ryder was awake too, perhaps some encounter would've followed. As it was, she truly was a ghost to the two other telepaths in the mansion; her locked-down mind even enough to cause the great ones of Charles Xavier and Jean Grey to only just be aware that she was still on the property.

Xavier spent his late-waking hours in his own room.

Jean Grey, however, spent hers more like Ryder. Not to the same degree -Jean still got an adequate amount of hours once she found something to focus on that did the trick in settling her mind; a book, or a train of thought decidedly removed from the constrains of reality; what a family with Scott could be like.

Though some nights had her feeling like her brain was a radio station with no adjustor knob.

"you know I never thought I'd wish we had someplace else to go, but if Ryder is going to keep affecting you maybe we should find something."

They actually had tried. Home though the Mansion was, it was akin to a home one associated positively with growing-up in; you always hope it'll be there. You never exactly want to leave it. Yet life may dictate you do.

"This is a very traditional neighborhood. A community you can really trust."
The words from a couple of months ago, spoken by a realtor showing Jean and Scott a prospective place.

The vibe behind those words had been transmitted loud and clear to them.

"'Traditional'. A community we can 'trust',' Scott had repeated once he and Jean were alone. "Not us."

Presently, Jean used her telekinesis to shift herself out of bed so as not to disturb Scott with any additional movement. For one thing, it took him longer to drop off with the state of his ribs, and Jean didn't want to interrupt his rest for his sake. For another, she didn't feel like attention.

Quietly she left the room.

She'd actually noticed Ryder a few times recently. At first Jean thought she was getting paranoid, thinking she heard things and saw movement, until finally she actually recognized Ryder's form going down a crossing hallway.

Jean didn't delude herself into thinking Ryder wasn't aware of her. . .She was probably "watching" everyone in some way or another, like blips on a radar screen.

In the beginning Jean had no thought to engage and it was a mutually agreeable arrangement, each ignoring the other.
But then...

It could be said Jean's telepathy was an extension of her empathy--

a girl, the life leaving her as she lay on the side of the road. . .Jean feeling her pain; then as if she were dying herself as she unconsciously connected. The end of a best friend's life, marking the beginning of hers as a mutant . .

--As such, Jean hadn't needed her telepathy to be able to feel the state Ryder was in; the paranoia, the high alert.
To feel the toll.

She had missed it the first couple of "crossings", but then every time after it swept over her like a shadow,
and something about this night prompted her...So when Jean noticed Ryder exiting the Mansion, this time, she followed.

There was a vague similarity to their last conversation on the grounds, in that here Ryder was, standing facing the free-span of the outdoors, and Jean was walking into that.

Though here there would be no talk meant to convince her of anything.
Here there would be only a meeting.

A meeting only telepaths could have, though Jean spoke with her voice.
Hesitating at first, as she had no direct answer to Ryder's question.
So she didn't give one.

". . .It's hard to feel safe when you see what others don't. When you know what they can't."
Jean had seen glimpses of what at the time had been the future; things she couldn't stop.
Things she couldn't say.

Ryder, no one could see the world as she did. No one could properly understand reality as she knew it.
To an extent this was true of any one. But it was a heightened truth when your mind connected beyond its own walls, and when it was a mind hijacked.

"A mind as a place of refuge and a place of torment. . ." Jean paused by one of the stone pillars supporting the entryway, eyes closing as she lay her hand upon it, "peace at your fingertips. . .and too far away to see." She opened her eyes, staring out. Her eyes appearing focused despite landing on nothing in particular. Her mind at once distant yet present.

Why was she saying this? Jean’s attempt at a conversation wasn’t making a lot of coherent sense, Ryder couldn’t tell where she was going with this. True, she currently saw every hallway and corner of the school, and had not slept once since the time she faked being in a coma. But why did Jean feel tne need to bring it up? What was the point of this?

”The hell are you talking about?” Peace didn’t exist in Ryder’s world. It had no analog, no comparison, or equivalent. Ryder blinked slowly, not of a sound enough mind to verbally rip the woman’s head off. She didn’t have refuge or safety in her own mind, impenetrable as it was. ”Are you following me, or something?” She asked, audibly less aggressive or outwardly hostile than normal.

She couldn’t let herself fall asleep. It was dangerous here. She needed to treat them like they were dangerous in the same way a wounded animal needed to treat every sound like a threat. It was just natural, even in weakness.

The lower degree of hostility and aggression in Ryder's voice wasn't lost on Jean.
Though she couldn't tell if it was from anything on her part, or if Ryder was just too tired to give a full damn.

Jean was paying more attention to the implications of Ryder's first response, anyway. . .Though she acknowledged the second ahead of it: "No, if you can trust my word, I'm not following you."

She considered her following response before saying: "I guess what I mean to say is. . .on some level," still, she briefly closed her eyes, hoping this beginning wouldn't derail her entire message, "no where close to the same, but some. . I get it. As a telepath who hasn't always had the best control, I didn't have to worry if people wanted to hurt me, I knew. In a way how you grew up was a dialed-up microcosm of how the world is for mutants.

Looked at like objects, prizes. . .Years ago I was wanted for my powers.
Through someone's manipulation I nearly destroyed everything that came to mean anything to me. . ."

From no thought that Ryder would care, just her own emotions on the subject, Jean hesitated before admitting ". . .I did kill people," only just audibly.
Her fingers brushing her just noticeably distended waistline; when she allowed herself to think of it, it didn't feel right that she should be continuing her life, with Scott, literally making a life with him, when she was responsible for denying others theirs.

But things went as they did.

She refocused on the present, continuing in her initial tone of voice: "There are others here whose lives have been irrevocably changed through experiments. . .Whose value lies in their DNA. . .Their stories aren't mine to tell except to say all of us have found safety here. . .The things that have happened to us have always come from beyond these walls."

Finally Jean turned to look Ryder in the eyes. "I want you to know that security. Whether or not you find it here. . ."

Then turned to continue down the path.

Days went by, and Ryder seemed to learn to accept her new reality insofar as any new environment could be adjusted to. She observed, she kept her distance, and she studied the people who came and went. There was never a real moment where Ryder allowed herself to believe someone wouldn’t sneak up on her. Even when some of the mutants her age ventured to interact with her, she kept a proverbial shield up, until they decided she was more trouble than she was worth. Perhaps it was undeniably monumental, then, that Ryder made no conscious efforts to instigate anything with anyone who didn’t instigate themselves. If there was any solace in her presence, it was that she truly did not have any desire to fuel any fires.

She had healed from her injuries to a well enough point that a medical exam- as little of one she would allow without a fight- showed she was in good shape. Others had noted that Ryder had a grasp of her powers that most mutants her age couldn’t possibly dream of, only making her more of a target for temporary attention. Due to her recovery, and her potential, the X-Men decided that they could stand to live up to the big words they had preached. Ryder was given a rundown on how they did things. How they had a fancy jet for getting across borders in secrecy, and how they kept contacts with people overseas.

And for reasons that were far removed from the realm of logic that Ryder occupied, they were bringing her along. It was an excuse for her to get out of that school, and it made sense. She could always just hijack the thing and run it into the ocean if they pulled something. Rather than show up in some hideous spandex like some idiotic superheroes did, Ryder just showed up dressed as if she had recently rolled out of bed. She walked into the hangar where the jet was due to fly.

As odd as it was to have a jet under a school, she wasn’t impressed.

”I’m here. Now what?”

Cyclops, in his uniform, turned at her voice.
What were you expecting, Summers? he asked himself, seeing how Ryder was attired. His face revealed scarce little of this assessment however and his look didn't linger.

Instead, with a "wait here just a minute, we're missing something," he walked out of the hanger.
Returning a couple minutes later with a training uniform which he handed to her.

"Now, you get this one," he spoke in a level voice; his natural.
How Ryder had behaved with the students and in general this past little while had made a difference. It was still close in Cyclops' mind what she could do, but he no longer felt on edge about it; only pragmatically aware.

Wolverine still wasn't holding his breath on this working out, and Cyclops was sure he had a bet with someone on how much longer Ryder would last before she split, but that was Wolverine.

Presently only Cyclops was here as the mission didn't require many. A milk run, essentially.

"For safety," he added, lest she think the concern was for keeping up appearances. . .Though there was a bit of that.

Cyclops then directed Ryder to strap in to one of the seats behind the cockpit while he took the pilot's. He drew a deep, measured breath as he strapped in, still at a point in his own recovery where pain was a companion. Then, he went about flicking switches and pressing buttons; firing up the jet as casually as starting a car.

The mission was simple. Fly to Moira MacTaggert's research center on Muir Island to deliver a device The Beast had repaired. The scholarly X-Man would've been only too happy to do so and regale Moira on the enhancements he'd made to said device, however Xavier had assigned Cyclops to the task.

The mission was simple.
Reality was often a far different matter, life for the X-Men being what it was.

They had gotten out to the middle of ocean airspace without things being eventful. Then it seemed like lost time was being made up-
It didn't blip on the radar. The circuitry encased in telepathic-resistant material would make this true for Ryder's as well; at least enough for a stealth entry into their airspace- after all, it hadn't been she the fail-safe was specifically designed for.

It scanned through the hull of the jet.

"D E T E C T E D -- M U T A N T -- C Y C L O P S.
D E T E C T E D -- M U T A N T -- U N K N O W N.
O B J E C T I V E -- C A P T U R E -- U N K N O W N M U T A N T."

While this went unheard, Cyclops noticed the shadow just in time to look up- then perform evasive maneuvers.

"Brace yourself!!"

But the sentinel kept with them as though it were locked-on and married to their movements.

Cyclops was able to avoid getting hit by its force blasts by being a move ahead- it anticipated for rate of velocity, he anticipated for it's anticipation.

So it adjusted its own tac by drawing nearer- then reaching- for the roof..

"C A P T U R E -- U N K N O W N M U T A N T."

Cyclops registered it wanted Ryder just ahead of bracing for the pressure break and- beating it to it- fired an optic blast upwards- severing straight through the arm. Shattered pieces of metal hit the exterior and fell through the newly made hole like hail, but none were more significant in size than that.

His view impeded by wreckage, however, Cyclops missed the second hand reaching in-- ripping him straight out of the jet, seat and all.

"N E U T R A L I Z E -- M U T A N T -- C Y C L O P S."

It gears up to fire via the blast cannon in its chest.
Cyclops -restricted from reaching his visor- makes use of the controls in his gloves-- it's a simultaneous double hit--
--Optic Blast severing the sentinel's head
--Chest cannon blasting through the sentinel's own hand to deliver a direct hit to the X-Man; releasing him, unconscious, to merciless gravity while the sentinel itself goes down.

Then, Ryder would bear witness to an odd sight from her position in the damaged yet still functioning Blackbird.

The detached seat, at first falling as expected, suddenly moves as if sentient, maneuvering to "catch" the plummeting X-Man harmlessly. Its defiance of gravitational logic persisting, it continues with him parallel to the water, until both vanish long before the horizon line, as though the sky itself were a shroud.

The "training uniform" made a bit more sense than the ugly ass skin suit Cyclops was wearing. It didn't seem to be protective. No body armor or padding, just some senseless getup that looked ugly. But alas, she put it on. Walking into the jet, Ryder's mind went into overdrive to sweep across every wire and line of code in its computer. It was comically sophisticated, and to his credit, Scott seemed to know what he was doing. As the jet lifted into the sky, they were out over the sea in no time at all. Ryder's mind was rapidly tuning into and out of the jet's radar and data-gathering tools. They were moving fast, nothing was showing up as a warning to it, and there were no visible threats.

The unfortunate thing was that Ryder's constant shifting of focus meant she didn't realize what was happening until Cyclops spoke up. The jet lurched and rolled, as streaks of energy lanced out in her peripheral vision. There wasn't much she could do, being strapped to a chair, other than wonder what was happening. Something was attacking them, that much was obvious- But what?

And then the thing latched onto the jet mid-flight, with all the triviality of a bug latching onto a moving car.

The roof was shattered and all the debris curved around Ryder, as she used her powers to deflect it. She watched Cyclops rip holes into a giant metal fucking abomination that she couldn't force her way into... Her powers weren't working properly. Like an animal, she went into the mindset that got people killed. The restraints of her seat were psychically ripped apart, and a blast of telekinetic force sent her over the chair, backwards away from the Sentinel's grasp.

Cyclops and the Sentinel blasted one another, mutually assured destruction sending them both into the sea below. But at the last second, a chair that had fallen out caught Cyclops and whisked him away... All why the jet was still moving on.

There was a moment where, in the grand scheme of things beyond any individual's understanding, Ryder strode into a crossroad. This was the moment where she was detached from all she ever came to know; Umbra was out of scope, the X-Men were an ocean away. Thee one which had the audacity to chase her down with Xavier was someone else's problem. Even the thing that attacked the two of them had come and gone in the process. There was an irony to it all, that her life had entered chapter through so much violence, only to be this fragile. Ryder had a choice to make, as her thoughts stretched out into glacial milliseconds.

She could've let this aircraft carry her along, and steer it with her powers. Ryder could go anywhere on this volatile rock and start her life anew. And she considered that, but she also considered what would come next. What effects would stem from that cause?

The X-Men were stifling, untrustworthy wolves with the same fangs as Umbra. They simply occupied a different den, and yet at least with them came the prospect of a roof. Walls, and shelter Ryder could take advantage of. A refuge, under which needles and knives were still a fact of life, albeit uncommon.

The lesser of two evils, between the only ones she ever knew.

The jet tilted in its flight, pivoting on an axis for which it was not designed. With a stiff, uneven motion, it realigned with the horizon and flew forward in the opposite direction. A quick sweep with her powers told Ryder that it was too damaged to fly for much longer under its own power. Thus, she reached into its computer, cut the engines and made it fly under her power. The metal exterior groaned in displeasure at the force of her telekinesis, drowned out by the rush of wind filling the inner cabin. Ryder leaned against what was left of the cockpit, and felt out for Cyclops' mind. At this range, it wouldn't be the simplest thing- Psychic communication was her least practiced ability. But the jet was flying faster thanks to her than it could have normally, and like a blip on her own radar, he came into being when she focused hard enough.

A thunderclap of telepathy struck Cyclops. It was ice water to the face, an electric shock to the hand. Unmistakably from Ryder.



The jet streaked over the damaged Sentinel, and came to a violent stop as Cyclops went out of her range again. It seemed to be floating in the water, trying to get itself back up and into the fight. But Ryder wasn't having that. She looked out over it, and strained her mind to reach into it for something she could actually influence. It had weapons, thrusts and other things that weren't outright intelligence.

The Sentinel's chest cannon would crackle and sputter, as Ryder used her telekinesis to tear its chest wide open. Like sacrificing human beings to an ancient god, a huge chunk of circuits and machinery were pulled outwards by unseen force. Its heart torn away, Ryder turned the chest cannon around, and let it fire.

Over, and over, and over again, until it had no more power left to draw from. What remained was a smoking piled of flotsam in the vague shape of a large humanoid. Trivial.

"I'm tired of having nothing. Whatever the fuck you are, you're not stopping me."

Ryder watched the husk sink beneath the waves, and curiosity drove her to float the cannon up to the jet. Glass broke as she transported to behind the seats of the jet.

And then the jet was forced onward yet again, with Ryder's trophy rattling about in the back, to find Cyclops.