The bed was a tangle of sheets and sweat, where he had turned and overturned who knows how many times during the night. His mouth was dry and sticky, while his head felt like it was about to burst. There were too many thoughts running, too many broken fragments of memory trying to piece together the outrageous hallucinations he'd just had. He lay sitting on the floor now, hugging his dogs, his silent protectors and only friends in the apocalypse, thanking God it had been just a dream.

But what a freaking nightmare it had been. It was too real. Way too lucid for his taste.

The third world war had come and gone and Miles had survived it. He had to make ends meet by trading, scouting and hunting and there were bits and pieces, flashes popping in and out of things he had done and others that had been done to him. He remembered... women. Not necessarily a strange thing to remember from a dream when you're fifteen and the women dressed like that, but these women were... quite harsh on him. More than 'harsh' actually, they were... was there a single word in english for 'psychological neutering'? Because they sort of tried to do that.

Anyway, good thing it was an awful dream and those women were just figments of his imagination.

There was another thing though, something that he had just realized as he sat there trying to sort everything out. In the dream, the nukes had fallen and he had been on his own, him and his dogs. His family... they weren't in it. He didn't see them anywhere, didn't call them, didn't try to find them...

They were dead.

His family lived in Virginia Beach, near some of its naval bases and it was impossible for it NOT to be a target of a nuclear strike. His mother, his father and sister... gone. Ash in the wind. Miles had not even managed to talk to them, there were no last words except all the arguments he had had with his old man before running away from home. He had told Mama T and Kealey he would call them but he always found excuses not to do it and time kept on ticking. How much more time did he have? How worried would they be? How could he keep doing this to them?

Miles fumbled with his cellphone on his hands. All the mobile numbers from his family were on his old cellphone, the one he threw away and he couldn't remember any of those off the top of his head. There was one number though, that was etched in the back of his head. It was a landline he memorized when he was little and it had never changed. He had no excuse not to call, except his own fear and his realization that he had done wrong, for running away from a loving family, angry at him, yes, but concerned about him. Facing them and admitting his mistake was a tad too much and too painful for him to bear but it had to be done.

Now. Come on, Miles, DO IT! Before you chicken out again.

His fingers shook a little as he dialed the landline. He felt tempted to hang up as he waited for him to pick up the phone. He was already starting to feel very emotional about the whole thing, a mental state he dreaded if it got out of hand, but he persevered...

"Morning!" said a lively voice on the other end, though you could tell it did not belong to a young man.

"Pops?" Miles asked and as he did, he could feel tears welling up in his eyes, his nose itching as he tried to keep his breathing steady.

"Inches!?" asked Milton Haxton, Miles' grandfather, with a mix of surprise but also a hint of relief and happiness in his voice, calling the boy by his nickname. "Miles, are you okay!? You... you called!"

"Yup" he answered. He had started to sob and immediately tried to quiet it down as much as he could but it wasn't easy. His nose was betraying him as well, with a sniffle here and there everytime he tried to catch a breath. His grandfather immediately picked up on it.

"Inches, stay calm..." he said. "There's nothing to be sad about, all right? I'm fine, we're all fine and worried about you but... take it easy and relax, okey?"

Pops own voice sounded like he was going through his own emotional rollercoaster but he was a lot better at keeping his cool than his fifteen year old grandson.

"I'm okey" Miles replied. "I'm okey too, I just... wanted to hear your voice Pops, and tell you I'm fine, and... and..." he mumbled and stuttered, finding no more words to say as he tried to stifle his sobs.

"It's good you called" the old Haxton said. "I was hoping you would at some point, I was waiting for you to take the first step, trusting that you would do it but damn! You took so long!" he told his grandson, then followed it with a question. "Would you like to meet up with us sometime? Sort things out and stuff?"

The boy remained quiet for a few seconds, but then followed it with a "Yup."

"Good, I'll call your dad and tell him you called and you're ready to meet, all right? We'll try to make it there tomorrow if everything works out."

"Uhm, hold on..." Miles added as he tried to figure out where they should meet. "You don't know where I am, I'm at..."

"Yes, we do" replied Pops. "Would you like to meet at Sanctuary or would you rather we do it at Xavier's?"

Miles met that question with baffled silence.

Students were walking to and fro along the hallways of Xavier's School for the Gifted. Classes were over and most were headed to their rooms, the yard or outside, but young Miles directed himself straight to the library. He opened the door with a push, noticing Kealey sitting on her desk. He smiled, she smiled back and tilted her head to the side, pointing at a specific corner, where two men were sitting and chatting with each other at a table in a low voice.

Milton Haxton was in his early sixties, though whoever spoke to him would wager he was much younger, at least mentally. He usually had a jovial disposition, prone to joking and pranking but known to have a serious side as well. He was overweight yet not flabby, still had all of his hair, more grey than brown but the old Haxton colors were still hanging in there and everyone, including those outside of the family, called him `Pops'.

Miles was one of the few, trusted souls who knew the procedence of the nickname. Most everyone thought it had a paternal connotation but it was given to Milton by his schoolmates when he was a kid, long before he was a father. He had large buttocks then as well, and he made a distinct 'popopoPOP!' sound whenever he farted... so, 'Pops'.

The man next to Pops was thinner, trimmer and younger, but his eyes, hair and face shape made it obvious he was progeny. He was pasty white, wore glasses and unlike Milton's red plaided shirt and jeans, he'd come wearing a grey suit. Derek Haxton was in his early forties and was known to be strict, serious and practical. The barely visible shadows under his eyes were a clue that he wasn't getting the sleep he sorely needed. He looked tired and slumped on his chair, which was very unlike him, since he was a man fond of sitting straight and correcting his children to do the same.

These two men waited in their corner, while in the other corner, wearing a blue t-shirt, black jeans and weighing 97 pounds... Miiiiiles HAXTOOOOOOOOOOOONNN!!!!

The younger Haxton's emotions were mixed. There was relief and happiness from seeing them again, guilt and remorse from running away without calling them back and anger from knowing they knew where he was all along... and not doing anything about it. As Miles approached their table, he could feel his anger rising as he remembered all the arguments he had had with his father and the way his old man had dumped all the responsibility from his problems on him.

The moment the two of them saw him approach, they got up from their chairs. Pops gave him a quick, honest smile, while Miles' father just a small one. The teen expected his father to berate or condemn his actions, strict as he was, and Kealey was likely to see first hand that all he had told her about the day he ran off was true. She'd see him angry, blaming him, demanding him to get rid of his dogs...

...but Derek simply opened both of his arms and hugged his son, to the point Miles noticed tears in his glistening eyes.

Wait a minute... Dad! You're making me look like the bad guy here!

They moved to a small conference room within the library, the sort students use to do team projects and where you were allowed to talk with more freedom than in the rest of the place. It was Miles' idea, since he still thought the whole situation could get a little vented and he didn't want to disturb Kealey, not that she wouldn't know anyway how the conversation was going since he doubted the walls could muffle their emotions as well as they did sounds.

Derek sat on a chair across Miles and Pops sat right next to him, which made the boy immediately feel like he was going to be interrogated, so he decided to take the initiative instead and ask the biggest question mark floating on his head.

"Where's mom?"

His father took a deep breath, sighed and hesitated, but before he could say anything, Pops tapped on his arm twice and answered it for him.

"She's fine, taking care of your sister. It is a school day after all. She wanted to come, but... since it was your father and me in the car that day, it seemed proper that we take care of the mess we caused."

That was odd. He'd been away from his mother for months and she thought his sister's school day was more important? Miles didn't know what to make of it as his father looked down at the table.

"Miles, I'd like to apologize for the both of us. We've had enough time to review everything we said and did and what we shouldn't have said or done..." Pops started saying but the youngest Haxton immediately started to shake his head and raised his hand to stop his grandfather right on his tracks.

Miles had done some reliving and reviewing of his own, to the point he had talked it over with Kealey and Mama T and the burden of it had started to take its toll. He felt seriously guilty about running away and even more so about not calling them earlier. Behind the harsh words and constant insistence from his father to convince Miles to get rid of the dogs, the boy now felt his elders were doing it with their best intentions at heart. Misguided and ignorant, yes, but still good at heart.

"It's my fault, I shouldn't have... I shouldn't... you know..." he tried to explain, but words failed him, as this topic was very touchy for him. Derek's eyes lifted up and stared directly at his while Pops waved a hand trying to dismiss the whole thing.

"It's okay, we both made mistakes" Pops said. "You did very well for yourself though! This is exactly the sort of place we were looking for that day, we just had no idea where it was. This is a damn fine library they have here..."

That was intentional. When Pops asked him where he wanted to meet, Miles had two choices. Sanctuary was a haven for mutants, but as havens go, it had more of a dorm environment, with places for having fun, relaxing, reading or resting and some of it's denizens had rather radical views regarding non-mutants. Xavier's was a school, and Miles knew his elders would be far more impressed with an educational environment than with a shelter one. This immediately brought that little question he had nagging in his brain back to the surface.

"How did you guys know where I was? And if you did, why didn't you come to pick me up? It's what any parent would have done" he said, with a bit of disappointment in his tone.

They looked at each other this time, Derek with something of a reproaching look. When Pops said nothing, Derek looked back at his son, all the glisten in his eyes now gone.

"I called you. Many times."

"I threw away my old phone."

"And I'm supposed to know that how?"

"I don't know. The same way you found out where I was?"

Derek was about to continue asking questions but he was getting flustered. Pops tapped him on the arm twice and took charge of the conversation again, as his son shut up and sighed.

"Miles, you got us worried when you did that. Very worried. We did report you as 'missing' to the police but we then decided to handle matters a bit more... privately."

"More privately how?"

"Private investigator privately. We were in a strange city, we didn't know anyone or anything regarding mutants. We didn't even know if the cops would help us out or not, so I got in contact with an old friend of mine who recommended me a P.I. he knew. It didn't take him long to find a kid with two black hellhounds traveling back and forth from Xavier's to Sanctuary. We then called the cops and told them to drop the case because you had been found..."

"And then...?" Miles asked. It wasn't HOW they found him that concerned him, it was WHY they hadn't done anything once they did that nagged at him. How convenient it must have been. The mutant son is with his peers, let's just leave him there while we move on with our lives.

It was clear Pops was expecting a more emotional, happier, forgiving Miles. He had called them. He felt guilty and sad and wanted it to end. This was supposed to be the 'let's sweep everything under the rug', hugs and kisses all around meeting and it would have been that way had Miles not felt like he had been played all along. They had hidden things from him and he was intent on finding out what they were. He wanted to know EXACTLY where his parents stood regarding him and his mutation, before sweeping the slate clean.

There was a short silence between the two. Then his father took the reins of the conversation again.

"...And then we decided you were better off here. Trust me, the situation at home isn't the best. The neighbors aren't the same since that day, your mom is stressed out and still trying to cope, we don't have the facilities to accomodate you properly and we thought this place was better for you. Here, you can study with... them."

"Them? You mean mutants, dad. M-U-T-A-N-T-S. Like me".

Derek stared deep into his son's eyes. "Like you" he replied.

"You don't like us" Miles said flatly. His father was a hard man to read. One moment he's all emotional, hugging his son and the next he's cold and distant. Jumping to conclusions like this usually pushed him to explain himself and Miles knew it. It didn't work. He pretty much changed the subject.

"Whatever happened to your dogs?"

"They're still around."

"They couldn't help you 'fix' that issue?"

"They don't think mutations need to be fixed, dad. Some think of them as a gift even. The whole point of the place is to learn how to control them and they don't mean 'control' as in 'restrain'. They mean it as in 'use it so much you actually get good at it'."

Derek could not hide a gesture of disappointment in his face but Pops intervened. "I actually think that's the right way to go. You see, Miles, this may come as a surprise to you, but..."

"He doesn't need to know that" his father interrupted.

There! He knew it!

"I don't need to know what? What are you hiding, dad?"

His father remained silent but Miles had started to pick up on how things had been set up. They wanted to tell him things, but every time Derek started to get angry or frustrated, two taps on his arm and he'd bite his tongue while Pops handled the situation. They didn't want a repeat of what happened in the van and it was Pops, not Derek, who was actually in control of the conversation. Derek did not want to share this part however, but you could see it in Pops eyes how he wanted to tell it. Miles father looked away as he knew his old man had 'blurted it out' on purpose and the cat was now out of the bag.

"You're not the first mutant in the family, Miles" his grandfather revealed.