I do not own X-men, they belong to the lovely people at Marvel Comics... I do, however, own Malachi, and any other original characters. Author notes to follow as they are a bit long-winded. Enjoy.

They watched him from across the street, as he turned the corner and disappeared into the subway station, and looked at each other with equally puzzled glares. The taller of the two dropped his gaze first, though the shorter one looked away quickly after that to watch the now empty stairs with frustration.

"I don't get it kid," he growled as they started across the street to follow him down. "What's so special about this one?"

"I don't know, all I know was that his name was on the file with a big red star and a note to be cautious when approaching. The Professor didn't get any farther than that and a few newspaper clippings, but he is on the priority list."

"What the hell was Chuck thinking? He looks like a random high school kid."

"So do I," Bobby sighed as his partner glared at him. He shrugged in response. "It's not like we all come with big neon signs Logan."

Logan scratched his nose to hide his smile; it wouldn't do to let the kid know that he had a sense of humor, not at this late date. And it was true; Bobby looked like an all-American teenager. He'd shot up about five inches in the past three months since the Alcatraz incident, something Logan still wasn't used to. Blond, curly hair cut short but stylishly, his blue eyes intelligent and compassionate; he looked like he'd jumped out of a boy-band poster, complete with that, "I'm a nice guy, trust me," grin of his. Dressed in a button down blue shirt and light jeans, white sneakers and a clean face, he was inconspicuous, in a completely different way from Logan.

Dirty and ripped up dark jeans, a white wife-beater and jean jacket that had taken him through many brawls, he looked like the back room of a bar. His sturdy knuckles and unshaved face, complete with unruly and spiked up hair, made him one of those men mothers warned their daughters about, especially after looking into his eyes. If eyes really were windows to the soul, his were a little grimy and chipped; yet still somehow clear enough to see through.

He grunted impatiently, introspection on how they were the new century's odd couple, not being high on his list of favorite things to do.

"Let's get going, Frosty."

"Logan… how many times," Bobby sighed as he followed his mentor down the subway stairs. He hated that knick-name. And what was worse, many of the new kids at the school were starting to follow the man's example. He didn't want to get stuck with the distressing misnomer. He stopped complaining when the man looked over his shoulder and glared. Merely gesturing for him to keep going, they made it down into the station and paid for tickets before following the kids scent through the terminal.

Logan paused and turned a corner, sniffing carefully as he went. A light bulb had exploded down near the end of the waiting area; a train behind them swept through the terminal and kept going without stopping. In front of them another train shut its doors and began to pull away.

"Logan, he had to have been on that train!" Bobby complained, "Now we'll have to find him again."

"No," Logan sniffed, "he's still here."

"Neat trick, that," a smooth voice echoed through the concrete hallway. A clang echoed off the floor as a metal rod poked out from the last pillar in the row, glinting with the pale light from the bulbs that hadn't broken. The kid was all in shadow, except for the hand which clutched the steel. Bobby watched as the boy stood absolutely still, sizing them up. "I can't help but wonder why you've been following me." The smooth voice came as if from the darkness, it seemed to swallow the air around Bobby's head, and if the snort of irritation from Logan was any indication, he'd been affected as well.

"We just have a few questions, maybe an offer for you," Bobby took a step forward but stopped when the rod left the floor and jutted out toward him.

"No closer, I don't know you, and I don't feel like shaking hands."

"All right, care to talk?"

"Say what you want, I'll listen."

"You're a mutant."

"I know, and since you haven't tried to kill me yet, I'll assume you are as well," The boy sighed," look, I'm not interested in joining any groups. I don't want to fight in "the great war for mutant rights", I'm a pacifist."

Logan snorted in disbelief. "Right, I'll believe that when The Statue of Liberty begins to do the hula."

"I don't fight for anything other than my own freedom, then, does that satisfy you?"

"That's fine kid, but that's not what we're here for, listen up."

"You're in danger," Bobby shot Logan a glare. They had to explain, not annoy the guy.

"I'm always in danger," he snarled, "if that's all you had to tell me then bugger off."

"We can take you to a safe place; you could be with others, learning how to control your powers…"

"I can control them just fine."

"You've been lucky so far, that none of your mistakes have killed anybody," Logan corrected. "But you've been mentioned in a couple of papers," great missing chunks of buildings, disappearing acts from police cuffs stretched out, yet still intact.

"Well, you know what they say. "Luck can't last a lifetime, unless you die young." I really don't see a bright and happy family with a picket fence in my future."

"No, but if you come with us…" Bobby began, and ended when the pole poked his neck. The boy hadn't moved from his spot, but the pole was suddenly longer.

"You won't be in danger; you'll live in a place where you don't have to watch your back every moment. You'll get good food, a roof over your head, you'll have people to look out for you, a good start on life," Logan paused when the chuckling began.

"Dreams are like rainbows, you know?" he stepped into the light and glared at Logan with all the intensity his young eyes could conjure. Seeing as how one eye was solid white, and the other with a blood shot purple pupil, it was a bit disconcerting to see such a patronizing gaze in one who should still be innocent.

"How so?" he asked, interested despite himself.

"Only idiots chase them," he scoffed. "Sounds like a great place. What's the catch?"

Bobby studied the boy carefully, noticing now in the shadowy hallway how his skin was pale and stained in patches and streaks, as if someone had used a red marker to color him, and failed to completely wash away the dye. His hair was orange at the roots, lifting up to a pale yellow at the tips of his spikes, as if it had been set aflame. He wore a strand of large silver beads, like a choker, around his neck and an enameled maroon cuff on his left arm. He was somewhere between their heights, but skinny with it. A large blue/green t-shirt hung over his boney frame, and large brown cargo pants extended to almost cover his feet, but his toes tucked out from under them; so either he was bare-foot, or he was wearing sandals. In one hand, outstretched, was the steel rod, and in the other a wooden one.

"The catch, kid, is that you don't hurt anyone while you're there. You have a curfew, and you have to do chores. You do your school work and you don't get into trouble," Logan crossed his arms. He was getting a bit moody; he didn't like how the kid was still threatening Bobby with his stick. But he didn't want to do anything to scare the kid off. Charles's notes had been insistent that this kid was in trouble. It was a vague feeling he'd had, but one he'd been sure on. Logan didn't want to let Chuck down, so he made it his problem to get this kid, and all the others on the list Bobby found while they'd been cleaning the Professors old office out.

"And then…?"

"Nothing. Look, we just want you to try it out. It's a safe place, a haven. It wouldn't kill you so cut the attitude."

"Attitudes are contagious. Mine might kill you."

"So like I said, cut it," he'd had enough, but it seemed like Bobby had beaten him to the punch. Apparently the Ice-Man didn't like having the stick in his face anymore. He'd blown out a puff of cold breath and frozen the metal along its side, reaching the kids hand and icing around it and up his arm. When it reached his elbow he started swearing and yanked the pole away from Bobby's influence.

"It's rude to point things in people's faces you know," he pointed out calmly as the kid stuck his wooden rod in his back pocket. He'd reduced it to the size of a pencil, and was obviously frustrated at his failed attempt to do the same to the metal one. Frozen as it was, it didn't seem to be working. Dropping to one knee he placed his free hand on the concrete and glared up at them.

"Shit-heads," using a pulling motion he'd cracked the concrete behind them and tried to pull it out from under them. Logan flipped over the kids head, landing behind him. Bobby just jumped back behind the crack. There was no evidence that there had ever been a floor there. The concrete was smooth on both ends; it was just the fact that a huge chunk of it was missing that told them anything had occurred at all.

He struck back with the frozen metal rod, bouncing it off of Logan's forearm as he raised it to deflect. He couldn't get the metal to react, he'd never tried to manipulate ice before, and it was playing havoc with his reaction time. He'd started shivering from the cold. Pissed, he grabbed the wooden rod from his pocket and twirled it around in his fingers, pulling as it spun. As it extended he struck out, leaving his metal rod as a balance against the floor, he spun it around his head and aimed for Logan's neck. Logan wasn't in the mood to play, and with a quick 'snckt' claws appeared from his clenched fist and cut the pole in half.

"Are you going to listen to me," he asked as the kid stared at the decimated end of his pole with wide eyes, "or do I need to get tough?"

After a moment they met gazes, and the kid seemed to relax slightly as he smirked.

"Name's Malachi, nice to meetcha."

Logan grunted, and noticed for the first time why his eye was bloodshot. It had been difficult to tell with the kid's normal skin discoloration, but it looked like he had a black eye. It was puffy and dark underneath, purple and yellow splotched with green.

"Call me Logan, and the kid over there is Bobby," he nodded in the Iceman's direction and then pointedly looked at the floor. "You can fix this right?"

Malachi smirked, "in my sleep, Spiky."

"Hah!" Bobby laughed from behind the divided concrete, "Spiky! I can't wait to use that!"

"Try it Frosty, just try it!" Logan flicked Bobby off and scowled at his newest menace.

Malachi just looked up with a grin from kneeling on the floor. He placed his hand down and pushed carefully until the divided concrete met ends again. Bobby walked over and placed his hand on Malachi's frozen fist.

"Let me," he muttered when Malachi jerked away. He concentrated and started to reabsorb the ice. He hadn't been able to do that for very long, it was a trick he'd learned after learning how to coat himself in ice. It was either reabsorb the ice, or wait in the sun until the stuff melted off of him. He'd caught a couple of colds, and had to face the ridicule of some of the students before he'd figured out the trick of insulating himself from it as well as just using it. Just because he could make ice, didn't mean he was immune to frost bite. Before long Malachi was freed, and he shrank the metal down, like he'd done with the wood, sticking both poles into his back pocket.

"So, are you going to kidnap me, or do I get a phone call first?"

"We aren't kidnapping you kid. In fact, we like to get parental permission if we can. This is a legitimate boarding school; you'll get a degree and everything." Logan snarled.

"Really? Then why didn't you approach my parental units first?" Malachi asked, then grinned ruefully, "because I didn't let you follow me, huh?"

"We didn't know where you lived, didn't even know your name," Bobby shrugged. "It's hard to talk to your parents if we don't know who they are."

"Well, that's all right, anyway, don't have folks anymore. At least, none that admit they have a son."

"I'm sorry." Bobby sighed; he knew what that feeling was like. His parents were still alive, but when he'd tried to contact them, to apologize and explain, they'd hung up the phone. He didn't have parents anymore either.

"Sucks to be them then," Logan grumbled, unimpressed. All he wanted to do was light his cigar and get back to the school. He got nervous about things attacking when he wasn't there. Rogue was still having weird reactions, she needed him. He grunted in his head, not at all amused to be feeling that protective about anything, he still wasn't convinced that he was good for the school, but there was nobody else who could teach those kids the dirty tricks that their enemy's would use on them. "So who you gonna call?"

"Ghostbusters?" Bobby asked with a grin; then shrugged when the other two stared at him blankly. "Come on, you were thinking it!"

"Just a friend of mine."

"Then lets get going," Logan ignored the no smoking signs and lit his cigar as another train rolled into the station.

"Logan, you can't smoke on the train," Bobby reminded him as they all got on. There were two more people on their portion of train sitting next to each other. One was scruffy and had several band-aids wrapped around nicks and cuts, his knuckles ripped as evidence of a recent fight. He was wearing large skater jeans freckled with different colors of paint and a dirty and ripped t-shirt, but his shoes where shiny and white obviously cared for. The other sat in a smart business suit and million dollar haircut, his glasses thin and fashionable as he completed the New Yorker crossword. Other than that they looked like they could be twins with pale blond hair and lanky builds. As they looked up in unison and studied with pearly blue eyes, Bobby realized they were twins.

"We don't mind," the scruffy one said, running his hand through spiky hair, messing it up even more. The other rolled his eyes and returned to his newspaper. Logan looked smug as he patted Bobby's shoulder.

"See Frosty, they don't mind."

"Whatever," Bobby threw up his hands in exasperation. "I don't know why I try anymore, really I don't."

"Neither do I," Logan smirked as he puffed away.

When they got off the train Malachi warned them to follow him carefully. Heading deeper into the terminal they came to a brick wall. Malachi placed his hands on the wall and pulled it aside, like he'd done with the concrete floor. Stepping inside he told them to keep to the left, and closed the wall when they'd joined him. He balanced carefully and brushed past them, once again telling them to follow his moves exactly.

"One wrong step and you'll fall a couple dozen feet. We're on a blocked off section of the old subway system, there's lots of crumbling areas around here."

"You live down here?" Bobby asked incredulously.

"You ever seen Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles?"

"Of course."

"Yep, just like that, only a lot harder to get to. They closed off these areas pretty well. It took me a while to secure a regular route for the others. This is my way in."

"So you're not taking us the easy way," Logan mused. "Pretty smart."

"If Howl doesn't like you I don't want to give you easy access to us later on. We worked hard for our place; it won't be ruined because of me."

"Howl?"

"My leader, caretaker, teacher," he shrugged as he skipped over a crumbling piece of brick work. "My whatever." After a few minutes of avoiding pits and traps, balancing on thin beams of steel and jumping over cracks as long as Sabertooth was high; they finally reached a beam of light in front of a smooth wooden door. Malachi paused, tilted his head as if listening for something, and knocked twice.

"Whom may I ask is calling?" asked a cultured British accent from behind the door.

"Malachi, plus two," Malachi replied in the same snooty tone of voice.

"Your guests have not a prior invitation good sir," now it seemed somewhat peeved.

"I've granted leave to call on Howl," he explained. "As per part nine of the contract of…" Malachi sighed and banged on the door with his fist. "Just let me in you idiot."

Logan smothered a chuckle as he heard a metal lock being turned and the door squeaked open.

"Pretentious git." The small girl on the inside sneered.

"The downside of being better than everyone else is that people tend to assume you're pretentious," Malachi replied, as if this were something he said a lot, or maybe it had been a code phrase. She huffed but she stepped aside, letting them all into the hallway, staring at Bobby and Logan with suspicious eyes. She couldn't have been more than twelve years old, her red hair braided down her back, green eyes bright with contempt. She was skinny, like Malachi, but well muscled. She twirled around with a dancers grace and a child's impertinence, her dark red tank dress skirt flaring about her legs, and led the way down the hall. Malachi managed to warn the others to lean against the wall as she turned around and stamped a booted foot. A roll of concrete flooring carried down the hall, slamming the door shut and dropping the metal lock back into place.

"Warn a guy next time, eh?" he snarled at her. She merely smirked and twirled back around. "You were meant for me Elie… perhaps as a punishment." He muttered under his breath. She paused slightly, but sauntered on as if she hadn't heard him.

She lead them into a larger room, the ceiling high overhead, her voice echoed as she addressed the one sitting at the end of a long table.

"Howl? Malachi has guests," she kissed the fair cheek and continued out the door behind the table, leaving the four of them alone.

The one Elie called Howl was sitting, stringing beads from a porcelain plate onto a long piece of wire. It looked random, which beads were picked up from the mess of colors, and the wire stretched out behind and into the room Elie had exited into. The glass beads glittered in the strong overhead light as they stepped closer.

Howl did not look up from the beads, blue/black hair shimmered in the light, and the slightly fuzzy skin stood out with darker stripes adorning high cheekbones. Logan sniffed the air, but couldn't put a gender to Howl. Delicate fingers, square jaw, a lithe and sexless body all served to confuse. Howl just chuckled at his puzzled glare and continued beading.

"Call me Ma'am Howl, sir, if it helps," like Elie her voice was accented British, and like Malachi's it seemed to fill the room and enveloped their heads. She strung a blue bead and knotted the end, dropping the line quickly as it was tugged out of her hands and into the back room. A squeal of delight echoed out as Malachi stepped into the doorway and laughed at whoever was on the other side. He shushed them and closed the door.

"Ma, this is Logan and Bobby," he indicated with a sweep of his hand as he stood behind Howl's high-backed chair. For a moment Logan was strongly reminded of a Renaissance painting Chuck had shown him on a field trip with the kids to the Metropolitan Museum of Art. Malachi was Howl's Knight.

"Ma'am Howl," Logan inclined his head as Bobby smiled gently.

"Ma'am."

"You will tell me why you brought these men, strangers, to our home," her interest clear. She was not angry with Malachi for bringing them, but it had been a subtle rebuke.

"They want me to go with them," he explained, more than a little hesitant. She could tell that he was intrigued, but she was not going to let him go and get himself killed. More was needed, knowledge, for safety.

"You two would take my Malachi," she sniffed contemptuously. "Many have tried, though you would be the first to ask permission."

"They want to take me to a school," Malachi sneered, but stopped at the sudden interest in his mentor's eyes.

"School? Xavier's school?" her voice was smooth, but insistent.

"Yes." Bobby answered simply.

"I'd heard many grave happenings," Howl took up a piece of wire and began beading again.

"We're still open. The school is still a safe place, a haven. You and your kids would be safe there," Logan growled, defensive.

"I would not be going, nor would my little's," Howl arched an eyebrow. "But my Malachi is growing up, growing away." Howl began weaving several pre-beaded strands together, the glass flashing brilliantly in the light. "He needs to learn to be one, without the pack, to be himself. He is my warrior, my first. We saved each other, we've saved others. My little's are not ready, but my Malachi is. He will accompany you, and if his growing is positive I will send the others when the time comes."

"Ma!" Malachi protested, but stopped when Howl finished her braiding and seized his wrist.

"Now is a time for growth my not-so-little one. You cannot stay, trapped in the rabbit hole forever like me," she hooked the beads around his wrist and let go. "Take my love, caring, protection. Come home stronger, and willing to teach the little's what I cannot. Be safe, and honorable." Malachi let out a breath of frustration, but nodded in response.

"Yes Ma," he leaned over to kiss a fuzzy cheek.

"Say goodbye to the little's," she patted his cheek and let him leave through the back door, then returned to glare at Logan. "I've heard many positive things from the Vagnuer. Do not make him out to be a liar Wolf. I hold thee responsible for my young."

"I shoulder the responsibility of many." Logan replied formally, sensing her tension easily.

"This one is mine. Not from my body, but of my heart. A piece of my heart travels with you. If it breaks I will not ask questions before ripping yours from your chest. Understood?"

"Perfectly." Logan was impressed. The lady's hissed warning had left his arm hair raised, and Bobby had audibly gulped.

"Good."

Elie returned from the backroom, glared at Logan and Bobby, and exited through an open archway to her left. She came back in a few minutes later with a tea set and several mugs.

"Sit, have some tea while you wait," Howl beckoned, and then turned her gaze to the red-head.

"I know Howl, I know he has to go," she turned the mugs over while the two sat, poured the tea and set the filled mugs in front of them. "But I don't have to like it." She sat with a huff and took her own mug, blowing gently to cool the hot liquid. "He's the eldest; I knew he'd leave, like the tallest blade of grass." She refused to meet her leader's eyes. "He is the first to be cut down under the mowers blade."

"You always take my lessons to their worst conclusion Elie, darling," Howl leaned over and rested her chin on her hand, eyes bright in amusement. "If I told you there is no greater joy than soaring high on the wings of your dreams, what would you tell me?"

"That there is no greater joy," she agreed equably. "Except maybe the joy of watching a dreamer who has nowhere to land but in the great ocean of reality," she smirked as she took another sip of tea. Logan couldn't hide his chuckle; Bobby looked too stunned by the pessimism to even form a complete thought of protest.

"Ah, little one, you've impressed our guests," Howl picked up her own mug and took a sip. "I'm impressed that your tea no longer reflects your tainted opinions. Rather well balanced mint. You improve daily."

"Thank you, it is difficult to keep it growing down here."

"You grow plants down here?" Bobby asked, interested despite his unease of the girl.

"I have UV lights. I manipulate earth forces, so it is a bit easier for me than I suspect for many who might try the same." She answered; matter of fact. Turning toward the back door as it opened they watched Malachi step through with a duffel bag slung across his shoulder and a large grin that slowly faded to a blank mask as he shut the door behind him. He now wore a brown camo jacket, and had a thick silver ring on his right index finger. At Elie's lifted eyebrow he looked down at the ring and shrugged.

"Mackie insisted," and Elie got to her feet with a nod. She walked up to him and let him grab her into a long hug, lifting her off the ground as she wrapped her arms slowly around his neck. Cheek to cheek they whispered to each other before he let her gently back to the ground. She kissed his cheek before going into the back room and closing the door with a definite thump.

"Malachi," Howl intoned. He stepped over to her, laid his duffel down carefully and knelt in front of her chair, a supplicant about to be given his boon. She laid a hand on his shoulder and kissed his forehead. "Be well child."

"As well as ever," he replied with a puckish grin. Standing up he leaned down to kiss her cheek and picked his duffel up again.

"Lead them out the easy way. It's a miracle they didn't fall coming in the way they did," she chided.

"Yes'm."

"And don't show off."

"Yes'm," he nodded again as he lead the others down the hall.

"And remember!"

"Of course! "All we ask is that you give us your heart!" I know! I know!" he laughed manically as hers echoed his, and opening the front door for the others he turned back briefly for one last look. Howl sat, laughing at her table, Elie stood in the open back doorway, her special glare only for him. And with a purely mental sigh, he closed the door behind him.

Colossus sat on a swirling chair, spinning round and round as his teacher leaned against the glass and watched the shaking girl in the room below. Rogue screamed at them, shouting in so many different voices that it was difficult to determine just when it was her actually speaking, and not one of the dozens of personality's she'd absorbed. The swearing that escaped her mouth when she was flashing on Logan was more than a little intense. They shared shifts, watching over her, making sure the mutations she had no control over did no damage to her delicate frame. Luckily when the bone claws shot out of her hand the transition lasted long enough for the healing factor to activate. She could have bled to death very easily. As he watched, his face a mask of calm, Rogue shot several icicles from her fingertips, up toward the thick glass separating them.

Storm sighed, her hand now on his shoulder as she leaned over to tap the intercom system on the control panel.

"Marie?"

"You wish." She hissed.

"Rogue," Storm corrected herself, "How are you feeling?"

"How do you think I'm feeling?" Rogue shot back, irritated beyond a mere telling. She thought it'd all been worked out. She went to New York, got that stupid cure, and was great for two entire months. She'd been better than great; she was able to touch people again. She could hug Kitty without fearing that a touch of her cheek would kill the younger girl, she could kiss Bobby and hold his hand without turning herself into a Popsicle by mistake. Then, with no warning, a metal pop can flung itself toward her hand. She had barely a moment to duck and scream at everyone to leave before a major magnetic sweep had flung all the knives in the kitchen straight toward her head. Then it stopped, and the new kid, the one they said the cure had been made from, had her in his arms.

Leech, or Jimmy if you preferred, hadn't left her side for two hours while they set the quarantine room up. She insisted he leave so that she could find out what was going on, but he returned every once in a while just to give her a break. She could hear dozens of voices in her head at the same time. Powers shot from her and bounced around the bare room as personalities clashed and battled. She was thankful she'd never touched the professor, or Jean. She wasn't sure she could handle that kind of power over others like they'd had. Even through the glass she knew she'd be able to hear Storm's pitying thoughts. She groaned as she started to growl. It seemed like the dominant personality at the moment was Wolverine. She just wanted to find the asshats who promised a cure and rip their spleens out through their throats.

Logan hadn't been down to watch her for a few days, Storm told her that she'd sent him on a mission when she asked. She knew it had to be hard on him; it was hard on her every time they were in the same room. Even now, with this insight being forced on her, she was as uncomfortable with his protective instincts as he was.

She shivered again as the ice wrapped around her and then chipped itself off. She'd touched Bobby the most in the past few months, and apparently that made it so she flashed on his powers more often than Magneto's or Storm's. The first time she electrocuted herself she managed to force the weather pattern in the white walled room more toward sunshine and rainbows by focusing on the calm that Ororo insisted on in her own mind. By trying to Zen her way through that she managed to instill serenity on most of the personalities. She was getting better at the control, but Logan's anger still made her lash out. She wasn't going to trust herself outside of her self-imposed prison until she was in control again. Or at least at the same level of control she had been in, considering her unique powers.

The door swooshed open gently, and Rogue found her mind quieting. Once again Jimmy had come for a visit. She felt his arms wrap around her shoulders and leaned her head back against his chest.

"I'm sorry Rogue," he always apologized.

"It's not your fault Jimmy," she always sighed as she buried herself closer to him. They both enjoyed the contact. Having opposite powers, they couldn't harm each other like they could the others, they'd been semi friends even before Rogue's had gone haywire.

"I feel like it is," he confessed.

"There is no way you could have known the serum wouldn't be permanent."

"No, but I can't help wondering who else this is happening to? I mean, there must be hundreds of mutants who thought themselves "fixed" that are now going insane," he smirked as he hooked her hair behind her ear. "Not that you're insane or anything Rogue."

"Nope, just got multiple personalities in my head, not insane at all, what do you think a psychiatrist would make of me now?"

"If they didn't know about your powers I'm sure you'd be on some lovely medication."

Rogue allowed herself to laugh. No doubt, if she hadn't been accepted into the X-Men fold she'd either be locked in a padded cell and drugged off her ass or dead by now. She wondered, briefly, about what her parents were doing right then, then shook off the question.

"Jimmy?" she asked, hesitant.

"Yeah?"

"Will you tell me about your family?" he stopped petting her hair and laid his cheek against the top of her head.

"My mom likes to pray," he said quietly. "She sings hymns while she cooks and always tells me that with faith and hope all things are possible."

"She sounds nice."

"Yeah, she does. She's not my real mom though. I don't know who that is."

"I'm sorry."

"No, don't be, Annalee was enough mother for us. She lost her own kids, and she always said she found peace caring for us."

"It's amazing isn't it?" Rogue muttered, "What family we can find if we just look for it?"

"Yes, it is," Jimmy agreed, "You are my sister, we found each other without looking, and yet, God provides."

"Thanks Jimmy."

Storm sighed in relief as Rogue fell asleep in Jimmy's arms. She knew it was bad enough that Rogue had her own nightmares, but she couldn't begin to imagine what everyone else's nightmares contained. She hated that Rogue had seen the depths of her claustrophobia (which was why she was in one of the larger chambers), and she hoped, beyond hope, that it hadn't transferred to the girl herself. Storm could control it, with careful consideration, but Rogue hadn't had the extensive mind healing that the Professor had visited upon her. There had never been a chance.

Who knows what other kinds of phobias or bad memory's had been transferred?

A tapping noise came from the doorway; she looked over and smiled at the young boy.

"Artie, what brings you down here?"

He responded by holding up his hands, toward Storm, and projecting out the image of Wolverine and Bobby, driving up to the gates with a teenager sulking in the backseat of the Chevy Impala Logan had bought just the previous month.

"Thank you Artie, I'll be up in a minute." She smiled at he brushed at her mind. It was not an intrusion, just a delicate nod, as it where.

Piotr grinned as she looked over to him and waved her away.

"Rogue's asleep; she'll maybe get some rest with Leech in there with her, go ahead. I'll let you know if you're needed."

Storm thanked the Russian and left the room, the door whooshing shut behind her.

Authors Notes

Just for an FYI, I got the idea for this mutation while watching Avatar. I was fascinated by the Earth Benders and how they just opened "doors" whenever they wanted to. Specifically during the episode in which Aang meets Toph and she storms off after he beats her in the arena. So I developed Malachi. Originally I spelled his name Malachai, as a tiny little nod to my favorite beverage (chai tea) but I kept on forgetting, so that's something you can keep an eye out for. Most of my reviewers, I've found, like pointing these things out to me. It's kind of like a scavenger hunt.

Elie, I'm sure you've noticed, I put down as an Earth manipulator. She's the true "Earth Bender" in this, but we don't see much of her for quite a while. I just thought it'd be kind of funny. But no, this is not a crossover. I just liked the concept that he could literally pull a door down in your face if he felt like it.

And to tell you the truth, I don't have a reason for this story yet. I just started to type and in the past year I've gotten twenty-six pages, half of which was what you've just read. (5,894 words) This is for all of you who want long updates because you hate short chapters. I promise I won't post this until the chapters are at least ten pages long, probably update once every 2-3 months.

As for Malachi's appearance. It is odd, I'll grant you that. But it came from a doodle I did. I just started coloring it, a young man with a narrowed glare and baggy clothes, and I messed up the shading on the eye (it was supposed to be light blue, but the pencils I used made it look purple) so the other one stayed white because I got tired of trying to fix the first one, then I used a crayon to color his skin and smeared some of the red marker (not quite dry yet) from the background (I was unusually messy that day). A month later I was thinking about Earth Benders and for some reason I was paging through my sketch book, and there he was. My new mutant. As for the lack of nickname, I just couldn't think of one, so I made Malachi scornful of nicknames. One name should be enough, people shouldn't need to call themselves anything other than what they are. So he'll probably call the Xmen by their codenames, because that is how they see themselves (Pyro anyone?). That is, unless that person confuses them a bit… as you'll see in the next chapter. BTW, if you can identify where the concept of the twins from the subway came from, you get a cookie! (Very obscure, trust me on this)

And just as a side, I was thinking about odd mutant powers and I thought of Meme. A young girl whose powers somehow revolve around any thought or behavior that can be passed by learning or imitation… Meme is a word from the Greek "mimos" or mimic… what do you think? Too difficult, not interesting enough? Has it already been done? (I'm not talking about suddenly growing bone claws (I've already got Rouge doing that right now) that hurts) This little girl would just mimic people. Kind of like when you were a kid and your brother wouldn't stop doing what you were doing. "Stop Copying me!" "Stop Copying ME!!" "MoOoM!!"

And I almost forgot- some of the pessimistic lines from this chapter, and probably the foreseeable future came from a calendar my dads got. Look them up at - Despair – add a www. At the start, and a .com at the end. (Dreams, Trouble, Underachievement, Sacrifice, Pretension, and Delusions… I'm sure that's all of them. But check out the website, awesome gift ideas.)