Jay woke to sunlight streaming through the base windows and the smell of something absolutely incredible.

  His body felt heavy as hell, the kind of bone-deep exhaustion that came from pushing too hard for too damn long. But the scent pulled him from bed like a physical thing. Rich, savory and exactly like home.

  He followed his nose through the corridors, wearing nothing but boxers and a wrinkled t-shirt. His hair stuck up at odd angles. He hadn't bothered with shoes or anything else.

  The kitchen came into view.

  Domino stood at the stove, wearing casual shorts and a tank top, an apron tied around her waist. Her hair was pulled back in a messy ponytail. She hummed something off-key while flipping what looked like French toast.

  The counter was loaded down. Eggs, bacon, sausage, pancakes, toast and fruit. Enough food to feed a small damn army.

  Jay watched her for a moment. The easy domesticity of it all. Domino, who'd grown up in government labs and violence, now cooking breakfast in their home. Making something for him. The normalcy felt precious. Fragile. Like if he moved too fast it might shatter into pieces.

  He pushed the thought away hard. Focused on what was real. What was here.

  Jay moved silently, making his approach completely soundless. He wrapped his arms around her waist from behind.

  Domino shrieked loud.

  The sound was half surprise, half laughter. She jumped, nearly dropping the spatula. "Jesus fucking Christ! Don't do that shit!"

  Jay pressed his face against her neck, breathing in the scent of her skin mixed with cooking food. "Good morning to you too, babe."

  She relaxed into his grip, one hand coming up to pat his arm. "You're awake. Finally."

  "How long was I out this time?"

  "Twenty hours straight." She flipped the French toast with practiced ease. "It's noon. I was starting to think you'd sleep through the whole damn day."

  Jay pulled back slightly, looking at the mountain of food. His expression shifted to something between amusement and confusion. "Is anyone else coming over? Because this looks like you're feeding the entire damn X-Men."

  Domino turned in his arms, spatula still in hand. She kissed him hard. Soft. Morning breath and all. "It's for you, dummy. My little glutton needs his fuel."

  "Little? I'm insulted as hell."

  "You're exhausting is what you are." But she was smiling. "Now sit your ass down. Eat. Before it gets cold."

  Jay claimed a seat at the counter. Domino placed a plate in front of him. Stacked high with everything she'd cooked. Steam rose from the eggs. The bacon was crispy. The French toast was golden brown perfection.

  He took a bite, and instantly his eyes went wide.

  "How is it?" Domino's voice carried nervousness she tried to hide. "I've been taking cooking lessons from Max."

  Jay didn't answer. Just started eating like a man possessed. Methodically working through the plate like his life depended on it. Fork moving automatically from plate to mouth to plate again.

  Domino watched the food disappear. Her shoulders relaxed. "That good, huh?"

  "You know me so damn well." Jay managed between bites. "How the hell did I get so lucky?"

  "Luck had nothing to do with it." She leaned against the counter, watching him eat with obvious satisfaction. "You earned it by being you, babe."

  They fell into comfortable silence. Jay worked through his first plate. Then his second. The Heavy Eater drawback meant his metabolism burned through calories like a goddamn furnace. Normal portions left him constantly hungry. But this? This was absolutely perfect.

  Domino poured him orange juice. Made him more toast. Kept his plate full without being asked.

  On his third plate, Jay's chewing slowed down. His expression went distant. Thoughtful.

  Domino caught it immediately. "What are you thinking about?"

  Jay set down his fork. "My talk with Peter. How everyone always needs a hero to help save their asses." He paused. "How this world doesn't give normal people a fair chance to defend themselves. Much less help others."

  "That's heavy as hell for breakfast conversation."

  "I know." He picked up his fork again. "Just been on my mind."

  Domino moved around the counter, settling onto the stool beside him. Her hand found his thigh, squeezing gently. "Focus on the food. It's getting cold."

  "Yes, ma'am."

  After breakfast, they cleaned up together. Domino washed, and Jay dried. The domestic routine felt surreal and warm as hell.

  "So, what's the plan for today?" Domino asked, handing him a plate.

  Jay checked the time on the microwave. 12:47 PM. "We still need to meet with Xavier. Get his full report on how the Sinister raid went." His voice hardened slightly. "Can't have any loose ends with that sick bastard."

  "After what we saw in that lab?" Domino's hands stilled in the soapy water. "Yeah. We can't risk missing anything with that sick fuck."

  Suddenly, blue energy rippled, and space folded around them.

  They materialized on the Xavier Institute's front lawn.

  Surprised, Domino immediately elbowed Jay in the ribs. Hard enough to make him grunt. "At least give me time to change! I'm wearing shorts!"

  Jay looked down at his own casual clothes. Wrinkled t-shirt. Sweatpants. Sneakers he'd thrown on at the last second. "Eh, it's fine. We're just here to talk. Then we go back, get more food, and sleep."

  "You're impossible."

  "You love it."

  "Unfortunately."

  They started toward the mansion. The grounds looked peaceful. Students played on the lawn. Someone was using extra hands to juggle soccer balls. Another kid breathed fire while laughing.

  Then the doors burst open.

  Kids poured out. All ages. Some Jay recognized. Most he didn't. They surrounded him immediately, a wave of excited voices and reaching hands.

  "Mr. Jay! Mr. Jay!"

  "You brought back my mom!"

  "Can I get your autograph?"

  "Is it true you trapped a god in a playing card?"

  "Can we take a selfie?"

  "Please? Just one?"

  Jay tried to respond. Opened his mouth. Got maybe three words out before five more voices cut him off. Hands grabbed at his arms, his shirt, trying to pull him in different directions. Someone's phone flashed directly in his face, leaving spots in his vision.

  "Wait, hold on, I can't..."

  "Mr. Jay, please, just one picture!"

  "My brother wants to know if you can really bring anyone back!"

  "Can you sign my arm? I'll get it tattooed!"

  The crowd pressed closer. Tighter. Too many bodies. Too many voices. Jay's danger sense wasn't triggering, they weren't threats, but his personal space was disappearing fast. Teenage enthusiasm was a force of nature with no concept of personal boundaries.

  A girl, maybe fourteen, was crying while clutching his hand. "You saved my dad. He was in one of the buildings. Thank you. Thank you so much."

  Jay's chest tightened. "Hey, it's okay, I just..."

  "Can you make my powers work better?"

  "Do you know Spider-Man?"

  "Are you dating Miss Domino or is she your bodyguard?"

  "Can you teach me that portal thing you do?"

  The questions kept coming. Faster and layered over each other. Jay couldn't track who was asking what anymore.

  Domino was laughing. Actually laughing her ass off. Standing just far enough away that the crowd hadn't swallowed her too.

  "A little help here?" Jay called.

  "You're doing great, babe!"

  "Traitor."

  The crowd grew even more. More students hearing the commotion and running over.

  The noise level rose from excited to absolutely deafening.

  Ten more minutes of chaos. Jay signed notebooks, arms, someone's cast. Took approximately fifty selfies. Answered the same questions a dozen times. A younger kid asked if he was a god. Jay said no. The kid looked disappointed as hell.

  Finally, blessedly, Storm arrived.

  She didn't just walk onto the lawn. The temperature dropped first. A cool breeze that cut through the summer heat. Then the wind picked up, not threatening, just noticeable. Clouds gathered overhead, dimming the sunlight just enough to get everyone's attention.

  Storm's presence was immediate and commanding. She stood at the mansion's entrance, and even without saying a word yet, students began to quiet down. The wind swirled around her, lifting her white hair, making her look every inch the goddess some of them probably thought she was.

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  "That is enough," Storm said. Her voice carried across the lawn without needing to shout. It rode the wind itself, reaching every ear with perfect clarity. Authority and warmth mixed in equal measure. "Mr. Jay and Miss Thurman are here on important business. Return to your classes immediately."

  The students dispersed. Reluctantly. With backward glances and whispered conversations. But they left.

  Storm approached, her expression warm. "Jay. Domino. My apologies. The children have not been calm since the broadcast."

  "It's fine." Jay's hair was messed up from a dozen hands. His shirt was askew. Someone had untied his left shoelace. "Really."

  "Liar." Domino's grin was predatory.

  Storm's smile widened. Then her expression shifted. Became more serious. "I wanted to thank you again. For what you did during the battle." She paused. "When the aliens attacked New York, the destruction was so vast that the Goddess herself wept. I felt Her pain in every gust, every storm that raged across the world. The Earth cried out in anguish."

  Her eyes went distant. Remembering.

  "But your miracle... it soothed Her wounds. The winds that had howled with grief grew calm once more. The storms settled into gentle rains." Storm's gaze refocused on Jay. "I fear the Goddess's wrath may have been unleashed upon us all had you not acted. Nature does not forget such devastation easily."

  Jay processed that. He'd considered the political fallout. The social impact. The personal trauma. But he hadn't thought about the mystical side. How many supernatural entities and gods had noticed? And what effects were going to happen?

  Another problem for another day.

  "Glad I could help," he said simply.

  Storm gestured toward the mansion. "Come. Professor Xavier is expecting you both."

  They walked through familiar hallways. Past classrooms where teachers explained thermodynamics using ice powers. Past training rooms where students sparred under supervision. Past the kitchen where someone was baking cookies that smelled incredible.

  Then Jay heard it.

  A child's cry.

  Frustrated. The sound of an infant at the end of their rope and everyone else's.

  Jay's head turned automatically. Following the sound.

  Storm and Domino exchanged glances behind him. They followed.

  The common area came into view.

  X-Men clustered around a cradle. Jean and Scott stood closest, dark circles under their eyes. Jean's exhaustion was written in every line of her body. Her shoulders slumped. Her hands trembled slightly as they gripped the edge of the cradle. Scott stood rigid beside her, his posture military-straight, but even through his ruby quartz glasses, the exhaustion showed clearly. His jaw was clenched tight enough to crack teeth.

  Rogue hovered nearby, looking helpless. Kurt tried making funny faces. Bobby created tiny ice sculptures. Nothing worked.

  The three-month-old, Nathan, screamed louder, relentless wailing of a three-month-old who'd been crying for hours.

  "Jay." Jean's voice cracked. She looked at him with eyes that were red-rimmed and desperate. Tears gathered at the corners, threatening to spill over. "Thank God you're here. We've tried everything. Everything. He won't stop crying. Won't eat. Won't sleep. The doctors can't find anything physically wrong." Her voice dropped to a whisper. "It's been six hours straight. I can feel his pain but I can't understand what he needs. I don't know what to do anymore."

  The X-Men turned as one.

  The movement was synchronized. Instinctive. Standing straighter. Shifting position. Unconscious displays of respect.

  They'd all seen the broadcast. Watched Jay bring back the dead. Trap a god. Challenge Asgard itself. Some had been there in person, fighting alongside the empowered heroes he'd created.

  They stood for him without thinking about it.

  Scott noticed first. He looked at Jean, who nodded, then stepped aside.

  Opening a path to Nathan's cradle.

  Jay approached slowly. Three months old and already exhausted from crying, his small face red and scrunched, tiny fists waving in the air.

  He reached into the cradle. Lifted Nathan carefully. Supported the head the way Sue had shown him with Franklin. The baby was lighter than expected, but solid. A tiny human in distress.

  Jay started rocking. Gentle. Rhythmic. His grandmother's lullaby came automatically.

  The was soft.

  "Chandaniya chhup jaana re Chan bhar ko luk jaana re Nindiya aankhon mein aaye"

  (Little moonlight, go and hide, Just slip away for a little while, Let sleep come softly to these eyes)

  The crying faltered. Nathan's unfocused blue eyes tried to find the source of this new sound. Something in the vibration of Jay's chest, the warmth of his arms, the steady rhythm of the rocking, cut through the infant's distress.

  Jay kept singing. Kept rocking. The room had gone completely silent except for his voice. Everyone watching. No one daring to move or speak and break whatever magic was happening.

  "Beta meri mera so jaaye Hmm… nindiya aankhon mein aaye Beta meri mera so jaaye"

  (My child, let my child sleep, Hmm… may sleep come to the eyes, My child, let my child sleep)

  Ten minutes passed. Time stretched. Nathan's eyes drooped. His breathing evened out. The desperate crying became soft whimpers, then hitching breaths, then nothing. Then the deep, even breathing of sleep.

  Jay kept rocking for another minute. Making sure. Then he carefully lowered Nathan back into the cradle. Tucked the blanket around him. Made sure he was comfortable and secure. His movements were slow, deliberate, giving the baby no reason to startle awake.

  He turned around.

  Every X-Man in the room stared at him.

  "What?" Jay asked.

  "Are you fucking kidding me right now?" Kitty's voice pitched higher with disbelief. "You bring people back from the dead, you trap gods, and now you're like... the baby whisperer? That's just unfair to the rest of us!"

  Kurt's tail swished thoughtfully behind him as his yellow eyes held genuine reverence. "Mein freund, you possess gifts that humble even those of us blessed by the divine. It is... extraordinary."

  The women immediately swarmed Domino. Pulling her aside. Voices dropping to conspiratorial whispers. Jean managed a tired smile. Kitty was already making gestures that suggested teasing.

  Domino's face went nuclear red. Her usual confidence evaporated. "It's not... we're not... look, can you all just back the fuck off?"

  But her eyes darted to Jay. Then to Nathan sleeping peacefully. Then back to the women surrounding her. Her expression was complicated.

  Jean leaned in close, whispering something that made Domino's flush deepen. Whatever she said, it made Domino look at Jay again with an expression he couldn't quite read.

  The playful mood shattered.

  Xavier's voice cut through the air. "Jay. Miss Thurman. Thank you for coming."

  The Professor wheeled in, Logan flanking him on one side. Beast followed, back in human form. His blue fur had receded, leaving behind long flowing blue hair that somehow looked distinguished. All three wore serious expressions.

  Greetings were exchanged. Brief. Professional.

  Jay got straight to the point. "Seeing the lack of all but three X-Men during the Battle of New York, I gather you launched your strikes on Sinister during the same time?"

  Xavier nodded slowly. "After obtaining the data on Sinister's experiments, plans, and seven labs worldwide, including one in New York, we determined this moment would give us the best chance to deal with him permanently."

  "Did you succeed?"

  Colossus stepped forward. His metallic form gleamed under the common area lights. "I led team to Russian facility." His voice was thick with accent and barely contained rage. "That... that thing. He is no man. He is demon wearing man's face."

  The Russian mutant's jaw tightened, metal grinding against metal. "The things he was doing when we arrived... the screaming... the children..." He stopped. Swallowed hard. "I delivered final blow with own hands. My team, we destroyed every clone, every abomination he created. We burned facility until nothing but ash remained. I made sure of this personally."

  Six other team leaders gave similar reports. Cairo. Tokyo. New York. Mumbai. Sydney. London. Each story carried the same thread. Horror. Victory. Destruction.

  Xavier raised a hand. Silence fell immediately.

  "Although we followed through on your plan, there's a complication." The Professor's expression grew troubled. "During Nathan's birth, I planted a psychic tracker on Sinister when he attempted to psychically probe the Mansion."

  Xavier paused. Let the implication sink in.

  "I can still feel it. Faint and distant. But still present."

  The room went deadly quiet. Colossus's metal skin made a grinding sound as his fists clenched. Someone's breath hitched. Jean's hand went to her mouth.

  "That's impossible." The word came from Scott, flat and controlled but with an edge of steel beneath. "We hit every facility simultaneously. Confirmed kills on every clone. Destroyed all the research. How the hell is he still alive?"

  "I don't know," Xavier said, and the admission clearly pained him. "But the psychic signature persists. Which means some part of Nathaniel Essex survived."

  "Then we hunt that bastard down." Colossus's voice rumbled like an avalanche. "We find him. We finish what we started. This time, I crush him to dust personally."

  "With what intel, comrade?" Storm's voice carried frustration tempered by wisdom. "If the Professor's tracker is faint and distant, Essex could be anywhere. Beneath the earth. Beyond our skies. Hidden in dimensions we cannot perceive."

  The X-Men began talking over each other. Voices rising. Suggestions and arguments and fear bleeding into anger.

  Jay sighed. Long and heavy. 'Of course it wasn't over. It never was with Sinister.'

  "Then we shift our focus. For now."

  The room quieted as all eyes turned to him.

  Scott's tactical mind kicked in immediately, his posture straightening further. "You're talking about Sublime."

  "Among others."

  "We found something at one of the bases." Scott pulled out a tablet, his movements precise and efficient. "Intel suggests they've been coordinating. Sinister. Sublime. Hydra. The Hand. Other organizations we haven't fully identified yet."

  He handed the tablet to Jay. "They call themselves The Cabal. This isn't just an alliance of convenience. It's a coordinated conspiracy."

  Jay scrolled through the data. Names he recognized. Locations that made sense. Financial connections that painted a disturbing picture. This wasn't just an alliance of convenience. This was organized. A coalition of the world's worst threats working toward a common goal.

  "This is bad," Jay said quietly.

  "So we've got actionable intelligence." Scott's voice carried the clipped professionalism of a military leader compartmentalizing. "But the strategic question remains: how do we identify and permanently neutralize a single sentient bacterium?"

  Jay was about to open his mouth to answer.

  But just then, His danger sense screamed.

  Logan's head snapped up simultaneously, nostrils flaring. His claws extended from his knuckles with that distinctive snikt sound. "Company's comin'! And they ain't friendly!"

  The danger sense wasn't gradual. It hit like a hammer. Jay's entire nervous system lit up with warning. Threat. Incoming. Fast.

  "Everyone down!" Jay shouted.

  The ceiling exploded.

  Debris rained down in a shower of plaster and wood. Jean threw up a telekinetic shield around Nathan's cradle, the baby's sleeping form protected inside a bubble of blue energy. Bobby created ice barriers that caught falling chunks of ceiling. Colossus went full metal with a metallic shing, positioning himself to catch anything the shields missed.

  Dust filled the air. The hole in the ceiling was massive, easily ten feet across. Sunlight streamed through it, illuminating the destruction.

  A body fell through the hole.

  She hit the floor hard. The impact should have broken bones. Somehow she rolled with it, years of training making her body react even when her mind couldn't.

  She had Asian features partially obscured by purple hair matted with blood and sweat. Her single-piece leotard was torn in multiple places, stained dark. A butterfly-shaped psychic mark flickered on her forehead, there and then gone, struggling to maintain coherence.

  She tried to push herself up. Failed. Her arms gave out.

  She mumbled something. Words slurred together with a British accent barely recognizable through the pain. "Please... help them... my brothers... please..."

  Then she passed out completely.

  The X-Men moved as one. Beast reached her first, his medical training overriding everything else. "Good Lord. She's alive but barely holding on. Multiple contusions, severe lacerations, probable internal hemorrhaging. We must transport her to the medical bay posthaste."

  Xavier wheeled closer, his eyes going distant with concentration. "I'm attempting to reach her mind, but there are... barriers. Psychic trauma. Whatever happened to her was catastrophic."

  Storm knelt beside Beast, her hands glowing with soft light as she helped stabilize the woman's position. "Easy now, child. You are safe here."

  Scott was already on his communicator, his voice crisp and commanding. "Medical team to the common area. Priority one. We have a critically injured teleporter with unknown hostiles potentially inbound."

  Logan stood beneath the hole in the ceiling, sniffing the air. His posture was tense, predatory. "Teleportation. She 'ported here in a panic. Can smell the fear on her. Thick as smoke."

  "How can ya tell she teleported, sugah?" Rogue asked, hovering closer.

  "No scent trail from outside. No wind displacement. Just... appeared." Logan's claws retracted slowly, one at a time. "And whatever she was runnin' from scared her bad enough to risk a blind jump. That takes some serious motivation, darlin'."

  Jay stood back.

  He recognized her instantly. Even beaten and barely conscious, Psylocke was unmistakable. The purple hair. The psychic signature. The way her body had adapted to house Kwannon's skills alongside her own telepathy.

  He'd dodged the UK mess deliberately. Stayed away from Betsy's complicated history with her brother, with the Hand, with everything that came with being a Braddock.

  But it seemed the mess had found him anyway.

  "Fuck," Jay muttered.

  Domino moved to his side. "You know her?"

  "Psylocke. Betsy Braddock." Jay's expression was resigned. "And if she's here, injured and desperate, then something bad happened in England."

  "How bad?"

  "The kind of bad that involves ancient evil, family drama, and usually at least one reality-warper." Jay watched Xavier probe Betsy's unconscious mind. "The kind I was hoping to avoid."

  "Can we avoid it?"

  Jay looked at Psylocke's battered form. At Jean cradling her sleeping baby while standing in a room with a hole in the ceiling. At Scott already organizing teams and responses. At Logan's tense posture that said he was ready for whatever came next. At Xavier's troubled expression as he sifted through traumatic memories.

  At Domino beside him, always ready to follow him into whatever insanity came next.

  "No," he said quietly. "I don't think we can."

  Jay felt the weight of it settling on his shoulders. Another crisis. Another mission. Another group of people who needed saving.

  His plans for rest? Gone. His quiet recovery time with Domino? Interrupted. The universe had other plans, as always.

  He looked at Domino. "So much for sleep."

  "Story of our lives, babe."