A/N - 

Hey, just checking in to say hope everyone's staying safe at the moment in this scary world! And I hope you're enjoying reading this story :) 

The weather had been lovely the last few days in Westchester, which Hank had been grateful for. It had given him an opportunity to try and distract himself, Charles, and the students from Iris' absence by running lots of classes outside in the sunshine. The students had asked many times where Iris had gone, and Hank almost wished she could hear it so she'd know just how much they all missed her. Wherever she was, whatever she was doing, they all wanted her back.

He was teaching a Chemistry lesson outside to the students, who were all laying on the grass watching him mix various chemicals. They were most excited about the ones that exploded, and he kept getting requests to repeat them.

"You won't learn much if I just show you the same reactions," Hank told them with a raised eyebrow, and they all rolled their eyes, "Besides, it's almost time for lunch. You can go now."

They all thanked him as they made their way inside for lunch or to play games. As he watched them all go, he realised how exhausted he was. He hadn't taught this many lessons in years, as Iris had been so keen to teach. He was going to need a lie down or a large drink by the end of the day.

As he packed up his equipment, he spotted a car pulling up outside the mansion. A family stepped out – a young woman and man with a daughter with bright red hair. He waved at them, and they caught his eye as he jogged over.

"Hello," The woman smiled hesitantly, "Is this the school for gifted pupils?"

Hank sensed the guarded way in which she was speaking, and nodded, "Yes, for gifted students with special abilities. I'm Hank McCoy."

The parents introduced themselves as Mark and Lucy Riley, and their daughter was Jessica.

"Would you like to come inside and meet Professor Xavier? I believe he just finished teaching a class."

The parents glanced at each other before following Hank with a smile, both holding onto Jessica's hands. As they walked into the mansion, Hank sensed them looking at the other students around the mansion. Jessica's eyes were like saucers as she watched the students playing basketball, each of them showing off their gifts while they played.

"Mum, Dad, look!" She pointed at them, and her parents smiled, squeezing her hands reassuringly.

Charles' office door was ajar, so Hank knocked gently. "Come in," Charles called out.

Hank swung the door open and gestured for the Riley family to step in before he closed the door behind them.

"Charles," Hank cleared his throat, "This is Mark and Lucy Riley, and their daughter Jessica."

"Hello," Charles shook their hands, including Jessica's, which made her laugh, "What can I do for you?"

Mark glanced at Jessica, "Well, we wondered if we'd be able to enrol Jess at your school. She developed some abilities last week, and we don't think she'd be safe at a school back home."

Charles nodded with a smile, turning to Jessica, "Do you want to tell me what you can do?"

She took a deep breath, "I can control electricity. I would show you but I don't know how to stop it."

"That's alright," Charles smiled, "You're very welcome to join us here, Jessica. My name is Professor Xavier, and I'll take very good care of you, as will Hank. We'll teach you school lessons as well as private lessons on how to control your abilities. You will soon know how to stop it, I promise."

Lucy breathed a sigh of relief, "Thank you, Professor. We've had such a terrible week. After Jess discovered her powers, the media took hold of it and wrote a nasty story about her. We want her to be safe somewhere away from people who will judge her for who she is. We heard this was the safest place."

"Who told you about us?" Hank asked with a frown.

Mark glanced up at him, "A woman came to our house – a mutant who said she wanted to help us. She gave us a card with the address on and told us all about it."

Hank raised an eyebrow, "Well, whoever she was, she definitely sent you to the right place, I can promise you that."

Mark beamed, "Thank you so much. We really appreciate it."

"You're welcome," Charles spoke up, meeting Hank's gaze, "We will look after Jessica. She'll be safe here."

*

Iris was dreaming of fire. She could see her parents, Erik, Charles, and Hank engulfed in flamed. She was trying to run and help them, but she couldn't move. She was completely frozen as they were buried in flames. She could never help them.

She jolted awake, her body drenched in sweat. She glanced over at the left side of the bed, and her eyes filled with tears as she remembered that she wasn't at home with Charles. She was alone in this hotel room, with no one to talk to. She suppressed a sob and reached over for a glass of water.

That was when she saw the flame on her palm again.

She sat up, staring down at both her hands. The flames were on both of them, and she could feel the heat on her face. She gulped. They were too big to just extinguish by closing her hand. The first time it had happened, they'd only left her hands when she'd thrown them at Hank. She shook her head – she couldn't just set fire to something in the room. That would be stupid.

Slowly, she got up and walked over to the bathroom. She turned on the shower with her elbow, and clambered into it clumsily, not caring that the water was freezing cold. She sat at the bottom, under the water, and watched the flames fade away. She breathed a sigh of relief, but she didn't leave the shower for a while longer. She sat under the water, letting it soak her and her pyjamas. She didn't care, she just wanted to make sure that the flames were really gone.

After fifteen minutes or so, she got out of the shower and towelled herself down, getting changed into a clean dry set of clothes. She felt like she could breathe again.

She sat down on the bed, glancing around the hotel room. Her notebook was sitting on the bedside table, open on the page with notes about Jessica Riley.

Iris still had to write the article, but she had to find someone who would publish it first. Her thoughts flickered back to her work as a journalist ten years before, and she thought of the last newspaper she'd worked at before she'd stopped writing. She'd liked it there, because she'd been allowed to publish her stories. She'd been particularly demanding, ranting on about the importance of her research and writings, and the editor of the paper had put his head in his hands and groaned, "Iris... you can publish whatever you like. Please just get out of my office."

She reached over for her phone and found her contact diary in her bag. She flicked through it, finding her old editor – Steven – and his number written on one of the pages. It struck her that it might not still be his number, but it was worth a try. She typed the number into the clunky handset and held it to her ear hesitantly. It rang once, twice, three times...

"Hello?"

Iris cleared her throat, "Hello, is that Steven? Steven Bell?"

"You'd be correct. May I ask who's speaking?"

"Yes, sorry. I don't know if you remember me, I used to work for you – my name is Iris Miracle. I used to write articles about mutants?"

There was a pause. And then a laugh.

"Iris... Jesus, you used to be a right pain in the ass, you know that?"

She began to laugh, "Yeah, I gathered by the way you used to groan every time I entered your office. You still working at the New York Post?"

"Sure am," Steven chuckled, "What can I do for you, Iris? I've got a strange feeling I know where this is going..."

"Did you see in the news about Jessica Riley?" Iris asked.

"Ten points to me, I was right. Yes I did see the news. You got something on her?"

Iris nodded, "I interviewed her family, actually. And I now have enough information to write a more accurate article from their perspective – one which paints mutants in a much more positive light. I wanted to write it, but I'm not working anywhere at the moment. I wondered if you'd look over it if I wrote it today and sent it to you, and consider publishing it?"

"Thought you'd left journalism and opened up a school with that boyfriend of yours? Somewhere out of town?"

Iris felt a pang, "I did, yeah. But I've taken some time away from it."

That was all Steven needed – he probably wasn't too interested in her personal life.

"Alright, Iris," He sighed, "I'll give you a shot. Send it to over to me by five this afternoon, you got it?"

She beamed, "Yes. Thank you so much!"

Steven groaned, "Ugh, this is when I'd send you out of my office. I best have it by five."

He hung up, and Iris breathed a sigh of relief.

She started to pack a bag together. She was going to need somewhere to write it, and knew of a few cafes in the city that had computers that she could use to write it up.

It was going to be a busy afternoon.

*

Iris was absolutely exhausted. She walked into the hotel room, and threw herself onto the bed with a sigh.

It was half past five – she'd managed to send the article over to Steven in time, although she still didn't know if he'd even publish it. It had been worth a try, at least.

Now that she was back in the hotel room, her project complete, she felt a tightness in her chest. She knew that she'd been using this as something to throw herself into to distract herself from her new abilities.

She couldn't ignore them for much longer, though. She was here, alone, with nothing to do. It was time to practise again. She knew that the longer she ignored them, the less control she would have.

She took a deep breath, casting her thoughts to something easy she could practise with. She remembered her pen, which had run out of ink earlier that day, and decided to try with that. She focused on the image of it – the engraving down the side, the curved edges, the blue ink inside it...

She touched the image, and the pen fell into her hand.

Next, she thought of a new notebook – the same as the one in her bag. When she reached out and touched it, she flipped through the pages and realised she'd forgotten to add lines to the pages. She tried again.

This time, the notebook had lines. She reached for the pen, and tried to write on the paper.

It worked.

She couldn't help but smile. When she was in control of it, she wasn't scared of her ability. She was excited by it.

The night drew on, and by the time she fell asleep from exhaustion, the bed was littered with the objects she'd managed to create. None of them were particularly interesting, but she'd felt the need to practise, and she'd known that if she exhausted her powers for the evening, she'd be less likely to wake up from a nightmare with her flames in her hands.

She was right.

In fact, she was so exhausted that she slept a dreamless sleep.

*

It had been a few days since Jessica's arrival at the school, and Charles was pleased to see that she was settling in tremendously well. She was so pleased to have other students around her like her, and so fascinated by their abilities. It was a pleasure to see, and a reminder of why he enjoyed his job so much.

Right now, he was teaching Jessica how to expel the electricity from her body safely. It was the most important skill he had to teach her, as she'd been particularly scared of hurting someone else after the incident at her school a few days before.

She'd touched a lamp in the training room, and now her right hand was glowing bright yellow.

"That's it," Charles murmured softly, "Now, slowly, squeeze your hand into a fist, palm up."

Jessica followed his instructions carefully. Her eyes were wide with fear, although she didn't express her concerns.

"Now, I'd like you to slowly reopen your hand and extend your fingers and thumb as far as possible. Can you do that for me?"

Silently, she nodded. She took a deep breath, and then opened her hand. The two of them watched in tense silence as – after a moment – the yellow glow from her hand began to fade. The electricity was dissipating.

"That's fantastic, Jessica." Charles told her with a smile as he moved towards her, "Now, I want you to touch my arm. Just to see if the electricity is really gone?"

She inhaled nervously, "Are you sure?"

He nodded. She took a large gulp of air, and then she touched his arm.

Nothing happened.

"Fantastic!" Charles moved away from her again, "That was great, Jessica. Now you know how to get rid of the electricity safely! I think we'll call it the end of today's lesson, shall we?"

She thanked him, grabbed her books and left the room excitedly, clearly looking forward to telling her new friends what she'd achieved.

Not long after she'd left, as Charles was getting ready to leave himself, there was a knock on the door. Hank popped his head around the corner to see if Charles was busy, and then let himself in, clutching something in his hand.

"I saw this," Hank murmured, passing what he was holding over to Charles, "I thought you'd want to see it too."

Charles took hold of it and glanced down. It was a newspaper – a copy of the New York Post. The headline on the front page read 'THE TRUTH ABOUT JESSICA RILEY'. Beneath the headline was a picture of Jessica smiling at the camera – very unlike the harsh one that had been in the media the week before. The article itself was a positive retelling of what had happened with Jessica, with an interview with her parents and Jessica herself that painted them all in a much more positive light than previous articles. Charles knew that anyone reading this would be embarrassed to have thought about Jessica in such a negative way before. The previous articles had clearly been lies and over-dramatisation – this was the real story.

It was only when he got to the end of the article that a small gasp escaped him.

'Written by Iris Miracle'

Suddenly, something clicked into place, and he glanced up at Hank.

"Iris sent Jessica here, didn't she?"

His old friend nodded wordlessly. Charles' gaze fell to the paper again, and he couldn't help but smile. Wherever Iris was, whatever she was doing – it was something good.

He just hoped that she was looking out for herself as well.