He was going to have to hire new contacts. Damien hadn't received word that his sister was in danger until too late. He had already caught a plane to the States, and by then, she had already been rescued. Part of him was pissed because he had missed out on taking down her captors. He may have something of a chivalrous streak to him at times - it was well-hidden but it liked to rear its ugly head from time to time - but he still loved him some well-meaning violence. Still, she was safe, so far as he knew.

But he was already here, so he might as well drop by and see her, right? After all, he hadn't seen her in nearly a year. He hated to think of the flight as a waste, especially as he hated flying - well, he hated the other passengers and just everyone, really.

The wall surrounding the outside perimeter of the school was nothing. He had scaled it in all of maybe two seconds, and moved through the darkness of the woods. They didn't have any sort of security within the trees, probably because too often they'd find themselves chasing deer or rabbits. At the treeline, he stopped and climbed several feet up into an oak tree, crouching on one of the higher branches as he surveyed the area.

Gaia'd gotten off easy. She knew that without having to see the full infirmary downstairs. If her body had been abused beyond being pumped full of drugs, she either didn't notice or was choosing not to acknowledge it.

She had her telepathy shields up as tight as she could. The emotions were riding strong around here right now. Relief, nightmares, a thousand different fears from different people about and from what had happened. Yeah. She'd gotten off easy.

If she were smart, she'd go home and ride it out alone. But home had it's own set of issues right now, too.

Gaia wasn't used to not feeling safe. Wherever she went, whatever she did, she was in control and she was secure. More than anything, by breaking into her home, those thugs had stolen that sense of security from her. She was sort of reeling from it, and wasn't ready to face up to having to clean up and reclaim her space just yet. She would. Just not now.

It was nice having Wolvie nearby again. Whenever she got itchy and left, she always forgot how much she loved, and in some ways needed, to have him around. For a moody bastard, he had a way of balancing her that she could never quite figure out. It wasn't like a soulmate or whatever drivel people read about in books. It was just comfort, security, companionship, family.

He was worried for Matty, and so was she. Matty, from all the Gaia had heard about her from Logan was good for him and the two of them needed each other. She hoped that the woman would be alright, but hadn't yet braved the infirmary to see for herself. She hated places like that. She'd spent too much of her life alone and waiting for the end of various worlds to want to spend it in a place that could be equal parts salvation and graveyard.

Goddamn, she was maudlin today. Gaia supposed that was just to be expected after everything, but she hated these moods. They just sucked.

She wandered out to the balcony and sat on the stone railing, dangling one leg over the edge as she lit a cigarette.

Brenna didn't break down when the Blackbird landed. She didn't break down making sure everyone got to the medbay. She was still riding on endorphins from kissing Ethan and adrenaline from the escape. She'd held his hand the entire flight home, sitting near the back of the plane where the extra jump seats were, and by the time they were home she was dozing on his shoulder.


( cut for slight discussion of rape )

The gardens were a mess.

Well, not really, but if Millie convinced herself that they needed an exceeding amount of work, then she could throw herself into that and not have to think about anything else.

She'd gotten up early, almost before the sun, and gone out to the shed. She was pleased to see that the trees she'd ordered before- the trees she'd ordered had arrived. Ms. Munroe would be happy with that, too.

She spent all morning moving some of the saplings to the spots she'd already marked for their planting. Some were going against the fence, but a good portion were being scattered around the extensive grounds. The entire project would take her a long time, but she didn't care. At least she would be busy and exhausted.

She was avoiding. And she damn well knew it. She didn't want to think about what had happened. She didn't want to consider what had happened to the others while she'd been kept like a little pet inside her cell. She'd never seen one of the robots that the others had been put before, but David made sure she knew what she was missing. In as much detail as he felt he could afford. Which considering the mouth on him, was a lot of detail. And wasn't she just fucking lucky as hell that he'd decided to keep her as his pet so she wouldn't have to go through that.

Yeah. Real fucking lucky.

She started digging. The whole would need to be deep enough to secure the root ball and twice as wide to allow the roots to spread out properly. Maybe three or four feet down and three across. Not that she really needed to be that mathematically correct about it. But it helped.

The work was hard. Her muscles strained and ached, her back hurt, and sweat got into her cuts and stung like mad. Millie didn't care and in some ways didn't notice. She got focused as she usually did when working the gardens, and nothing else mattered.

Waking up was not something that Kitty knew if she wanted to do or not. Being awake meant she would feel the pain again. Being awake would mean that she would have to face the truth that she was in no condition to protect Jubilee or fight back against their captors without getting herself hurt worse. Having to wake up meant that she would have to deal with way too many things that she would rather not have to face -- including the fact that she was worried she was going to die before she'd see Andrew and the rest of her loved ones again.

Being awake meant dealing with the fear that it was getting harder and harder to pretend didn't exist.

The first thing that Kitty realized when she allowed herself to come closer to waking up was that she was warm. It was a nice warm, a good change from the coldness in the cell. The second thing she realized was that whatever she was laying on was a lot more comfortable than the cot or floor. When she opened her eyes, she found herself looking up into a ceiling that she vaguely recognized. It wasn't the same exact ceiling that she was used to growing up, but it was definitely similar.

She closed her eyes again for a moment, this time in relief. She hadn't been dreaming, then. They really had found them and brought them home.

She turned her head to the side and was surprised to see a head of brown hair laying on the bed next to her. Her arms felt heavy, but she still moved her hand to stroke his hair. She had been so scared she'd never see him again and even now, tears filled her eyes as she thought about it.

After sending an email to everyone in the contact list for the Institute, Adelaide reached out and took another sip of her cooling coffee.

The door to her office was slightly open, an invitation for anyone walking past who knew of her position to come in if they wished. She only believed in closing doors when people were actually in her room and wanting to talk privately. The Professor had always had an open door policy, as had Jean, and she was not going to be one to break tradition in such a way.

She hoped that the students would take her up on her offer. Hell, she hoped some of the faculty would too. There was nothing wrong with just sitting down and talking. It helped, a lot of the time, just to shed the load, get everything off ones chest. Sometimes the conversation wasn't even about what had happened. Often with trauma victims that was the case.

She supposed she should email Logan separately, or at least talk with him about what had happened and whether or not they should make the counseling sessions for those that were taken compulsory. She knew that her presence would help, it just needed to be taken advantage of.

"Ugh, cold." she muttered, putting the mug down beside her computer. She enjoyed cool coffee, but not cold coffee. There were some thing that should never be cold; coffee was one of those things. She got to her feet and pulled the door open a little more, thinking back on the session she'd had earlier that day with one of the younger students, and even her brief conversation with Jamie.

It didn't seem right to her that they felt they couldn't talk to the staff because they were afraid to be a nuisance in a time when they should have been able to turn to them more than ever.

Plucking a book off her bookshelf, Adelaide settled in behind her desk and waited to see if anyone was going to come to her today, the same way she would every day. She got three pages into it before she put it down again, picking up her sketchpad, pencil in hand as she drew.

His conversation with Ada still in the forefront, Scott eventually made his way to Ororo's office. It'd be the first time they'd spoken since the rescue, and he found himself missing the other woman.

They'd always been close, like brother and sister at times, and he felt bad for avoiding her, because, truth be told, that's what he was doing. 

He'd been acting like a spoiled child, and he was ashamed of it. If it hadn't been for the children's disappearance, he probably never would've snapped out of it, instead choosing to sulk and pout.

Heading upstairs, he knocked lightly on the door of her office. "Hey, Ro, you busy?"

Narrative

John was a trouble-patient, the sort of patient that never did as he was told and refused to sit still and be treated. He'd even point blank refused x-rays even though the only way to determine how bad the cracks in his ribs were was by using an x-ray.

The reason behind his refusal was simple: his bones told his life story and quite frankly he didn't want anyone knowing about that, not even Hank. Not that objection had gotten very far, given that Hank was the doctor and eventually the x-ray had taken place.

Every bone, it didn't matter how big or small, had some sort of break or fracture, badly set and some had clearly never been treated. John had simply avoided eye contact and gruffly excused himself to the bed he'd been stuck in since he'd passed out in the Blackbird. What? He'd made it all the way there, he didn't think passing out right at the end was something to be ashamed of. In fact he thought he'd done super fucking well in comparison to everybody else who sort of... well, he wasn't about to say it, people knew how things had gone down. It had been a fucked up situation.

Blood loss. Cracked ribs. Multiple cuts and bruises. Electric shock. Burns. Puncture marks. Spinal fluid loss. Malnutrition. Fatigue.

( Easily Overlooked )