Jersey had been a dead end.
Without question, it was a frustrating situation. Ororo waited for updates via cell phone from the Institute, adding new red dots to the map they were using to track her. She'd begun slashing through failed locations with a black sharpie. After two weeks on the road, there were more black x's than new locations.
It was day fifteen, and the young man was keeping to his own side of the hotel room to practice his deep breathing exercises. The tremors in his hands had grown more pronounced over the past twenty-four hours from the stress and he had nearly shattered his glass at dinner. Storm was quick to move him back to their hotel room for solitude away from prying eyes.
[i "I understand,"] he heard Ororo speaking into the phone. [i "Tell Charles that we will be coming home if we don't find her in the next few days. I'm exhausted, and I don't know how long he is going to last before he starts getting stir-crazy. Email me the coordinates on the next hit he gets, and we'll be on the move."]
She hung up with a sigh and dropped onto her bed. [b "In through the nose, and out through the mouth,"] Tristan guided her as he took his own breath.
A finger pointed at him. [i "Do not try to mentor me,"] she warned him.
Tristan rose from his cross-legged place on his bed and crossed the room to look out the window. [b "We've been here too long. She's probably the next state over."]
Her response was a huff and a pillow thrown at him. [i "Have faith. Charles wouldn't have sent us on a wild goose chase. Now, get back to your exercises,"] she ordered him.
Tristan was halfway back to his bed when her phone chimed. He didn't miss the quick flash of relief on her face. [i "We have to go. We can't miss her again,"] she threw his go-bag at him to get ready.