Disclaimer: Sadly, I do not own any of the X-men… though I wish I did.

Other: Set just after X2

Chapter One

The night was hot and humid, not even a hint of a breeze drifting through the open windows of the school. Bobby Drake tossed and turned uncomfortably in his bed, his covers long ago being flung off his bed, and down onto the floor. He guessed it was funny, in a strange sort of way. After spending so long trying to wake up, it was now nigh impossible to fall asleep… and Bobby wasn't sure which one he preferred. With a small sigh, he sat up in his bed, swinging his legs around, and dropping his head into his hands. He was dressed only in plain boxer shorts, trying to keep as cool as possible – however, nothing seemed to be working right now.

Finally, he decided he had to give in. There was no use in trying any longer. Bobby silently got to his feet, stretching his arms out. His gaze wandered around his dark room for a moment, mere outlines of objects being able to be seen. For a moment, his gaze rested on the empty bed that was still present on the other side of his room – no-one had yet to sleep in it since John had left, even though the influx of students meant rooms were getting rapidly filled up. Beds were needed, and Bobby had been asked already, whether he would allow someone to sleep there; but although he wasn't a selfish person, he had still muttered a quick no. However, with a slight shake of his head, these thoughts left his mind, and Bobby stood up. Grabbing a t-shirt that lay hanging over a nearby chair, he pulled it over his head, and made his way to his door.

His bare feet made no noise as he walked across the carpeted floor of the boy's dorm section of the mansion, but Bobby was still trying to be as quiet as he could. He knew if he got caught, he would get into trouble – it was late in the night, and there were pretty strict rules about bedtimes. However, he knew the teachers knew about his nightly outings down to the kitchen, and they could easily stop him if they tried… although, until they did, he would continue… come to think of it, even if they did try and stop him, Bobby would probably still continue!

Bobby finally found himself down in the main kitchen of the school, and his hand lifted to click on the light switch on the wall. He glanced around the room, checking that no-one else was in there… although, he had never come across anyone before. He moved over to the freezer automatically, dropping to one knee to get down to its level.

The cool air that escaped from the freezer as he opened it caused a smile to twitch at Bobby's lips. He breathed in deeply, his hand moving up to grasp some ice and crush it in his hand. His gaze scanned the tops of the ice cream pots, searching for his favourite flavour. Vanilla. He could never understand how the other kids in the school could eat all kinds of weird and wonderful flavours – but then again, none of the other kids ate nearly half as much ice cream as he did. Finally, he came across a pot, and moving quickly, pulled it out, shutting the freezer door behind him. Bobby shifted slightly, so that he sat with his back leaning against the door, the cool surface chilly against his back. He lifted his arm, pulling open a drawer by his head, and with a moment's fumbling, managed to grab hold of a spoon. Eagerly, Bobby ripped the top off the ice cream pot, and dug his spoon into it.

Bobby brought the spoon up level to his eyes, surveying the clean scoop of ice cream. The smile grew ever wider on his face as he brought the food down to his mouth. He savored the taste, leaning his head back to rest against the door of the freezer, his eyes closing. But as the smooth, creamy taste made it's presence known, a voice drifted in his mind; "Not your stupid ice cream again!" Bobby's eyes snapped open, searching for the person who had spoken – but he knew he wouldn't find anyone. Because it had been John Allerdyce's voice… and he wasn't back at the mansion.

It had been only a couple of days since John had left. He had walked out of the jet, with barely a glance back to Bobby… and that was what hurt the most. A frown was etched on Bobby's normally friendly face, his eyes downcast. He stared furiously down into the slowly melting ice cream, his spoon dangling uselessly in his hand. Why couldn't anything just be right?!



Silently, Bobby sat alone in the dimly-lit kitchen, as tears slowly started to roll down his cheeks. He was confused, and he didn't know what to do anymore… he used to have everything in control but now, nothing was right… He let the spoon drop out of his hand, the noise of it hitting the floor ringing out into the quiet school, although he didn't care much anymore... Bobby didn't even notice as a figure appeared at the doorway of the kitchen...

--

Scott hated the fact that there was a double bed in his room – every time he walked in, it just reminded him of what he had lost. His beautiful fiancée, his best friend, his lover… The pain felt like it was almost a physical blow, and sometimes he found himself stumbling to one knee. But now, he stood stock still in the doorway, his eyes hidden by his dark glasses… His fists were clenched at his side, his brow knitted into a frown. No longer could he sleep in this room – there were too many memories, too many reminders of her. And it hurt so much. Swiftly turning his back on the room, Scott let out the breath he hadn't realized he had been holding.

He had tried to not let his emotions show around the students… but sometimes, it was too much effort, and he quite simply did not have enough energy left. He didn't like it that people pitied him – it meant they didn't respect him. Sometimes, Scott wondered if he still had it in him to be the X-men leader. He used to be so sure of himself, but now, not so… If people died in his team, it was his fault… he was the leader, after all. He should've been able to stop it; he should've done something different. Scott had briefly discussed these thoughts with Xavier, who had told him that of course it was not his fault... but he had to say that, didn't he?

Scott shook these thoughts out of his head, wanting peace at least for a moment. Suddenly, he realized, that he had been walking, his feet leading, instead of his brain. He had already made his way down the main stairs, and seeing a light on in the kitchen, curiously made his way towards the room, wondering who would be up at this time. As he turned the corner to see Bobby alone, the expression on his face softened slightly.

"Bobby," Scott said softly, about to open his mouth once more to send the boy to bed. But as he glanced up, and Scott caught sight of the tears that had been hurriedly brushed away, his mouth closed once more. Instead, he moved forward into the lit room, and then, with a moment's hesitation, moved to sit next to Bobby. He stretched his legs out, staring straight ahead, allowing the silence to fall again.

And silently, they sat together, each with their own pain, their own sorrow.

--

Piotr gazed down at the picture that was in his hands, his usually cheerful face twisted in the expression of pain. His blue eyes shone with tears, but none had fallen yet. His hands shook slightly, his knuckles white as his grip tightened. The picture was of a pretty, young girl, blonde hair cascading down to her shoulders, a broad smile on her face, as she sat happily on a swing, mid-flight. The picture was of Piotr's younger sister, his dear sweet 'snowflake', Illyana.

Only a couple of days ago, Piotr had received the dreadful news – that she had passed away, back home in Russia, due to an illness that none of the doctors could help with. And the pain was almost too much to take, as he realized that never again, was he going to be able to see her again, to pick her up and swing her onto his shoulders, to hear her innocent laugh…

With a small sigh, Piotr let the photo drop softly to the floor, and brought a hand up to brush away the tears. He knew he had to get out of his room soon; else he was going to go mad. Standing up to his full height, he glanced at the time; 1:40 am. Piotr hadn't ventured much out of his room, since the news, but now, as it was so early (or late, whichever way you looked at it), he guessed not many people would be around… not many people would be there, to constantly ask if he was okay, and say that they were sorry. Piotr hated the way people said sorry to him – there was nothing they could do, and they couldn't change it now! But he knew they were just trying to be polite…



He moved to open his door, and glanced down the corridor both ways, just to confirm to himself that it was empty. Moving out of his room, Piotr shut the door quietly behind him, and made his way down the main stairs. A slight frown appeared on his face, as he saw light shining out of a room, and although his previous thoughts of not wanting to meet anyone were still present in his mind, he moved forward to it… Spotting Bobby and Scott sitting with their backs to a cupboard, a small, sad smile twitched at his lips. Without even saying a word, Piotr moved forward, and lowered himself to sit next to Scott, drawing his knees up to his chest. He stared down at the floor unseeingly, once more lost in his thoughts.

And silently, they sat together, each with their own pain, their own sorrow.

--

Logan had never really classed anything as his home. Neither had he ever really felt that he had truly fell in love with someone… but it seemed things changed. When he returned back to the school, after his small 'trip' away, he had truly felt like he was going home. And judging by the pain he was in now, he must have fallen in love… Logan hated to admit that he felt pain. It made him look weak – but this pain was like no other that he had ever felt… and unlike the other pains he had experienced, it wasn't healing straight away.

Logan had taken to checking the mansion at night, after finding he couldn't sleep. He felt like it was his fault that the mansion had been attacked… it was his fault that Jean died. If he had not been at the mansion, Stryker wouldn't have come for him there – with all those soldiers and everything! So, now, he was determined not to let anything like that ever happen again. He paced the corridors of the mansion, his senses alert, his mind awake, constantly aware of the smallest sounds.

As Logan moved around the ground level, he spotted the light of the kitchen shining out into the dark corridor. A frown appeared on his face, as he was sure he had turned off all the lights on his first time around the school. His pace quickened ever so slightly, his hands clenched, ready for anything. But as soon as he caught the faint scent of whom was in the room, he slowly relaxed, and moved to the open door.

Logan slowly surveyed the three men, each sitting with their backs to the cupboards. None of them talked… heck, none of them even seemed like they had even acknowledged him! Everyone was suffering in the school, Logan knew that at least, and it looked like all the people in front of him were in pain…

There was only thing for him to do. Logan moved forward, and sat down next to Piotr,

And silently, they sat together, each with their own pain, their own sorrow.