Chapter 1

Hands on hips, Lorna Dane surveyed the attic room of the house that would be her home while she pursued her post-graduate studies at the very pro-mutant University of Berkeley. One of her new housemates, a very nice if very hurried med student named Jean, had used her incredibly useful telekinetic powers to help carry a few things in before she'd had to rush off to the hospital. Then Lorna had been left alone to drag box after box upstairs, since the rest of her housemates appeared to be MIA.

It was truly amazing just how much crap she'd managed to bring with her. After living more or less like a gypsy for most of her life, moving from dig to dig with her roaming archaeologist of a father, over the past four years of studying at Oxford she'd discovered, much to her dismay, that she really was something of a pack-rat. No wonder the people at British Airways had seemed less than impressed when she'd checked in for her flight. She could only imagine the looks she'd have received if she hadn't shipped some things over before hand. It was as small miracle everything had fit in her (technically her dad's hand-me-down) poor little Beetle.

Lorna dragged a hand through her dark green hair and sighed, looking at the bed somewhat longingly before mentally shaking herself. One more box and she'd be done. Then she had to unpack at least some of her stuff, and then she could relax.

Maybe there was some community beer in the fridge...

Hell, if there wasn't, she was going to go find the nearest store and get some. Because a cold beer and a burger cooked up on the grill she'd seen out on the massive back porch that Jean had shown her during their brief tour sounded like heaven.

Lorna descended the stairs from her room to the second floor. There were five bedrooms there, plus a nice big bathroom. As she walked down the short corridor, she peeked inside any of the rooms whose doors happened to not be closed. All appeared to have occupants, though several looked as if their inhabitants hadn't yet unpacked.

She padded down the stairs to the main floor, which was home to a large communal living room area, a surprisingly big and seemingly well-stocked kitchen, and another bathroom.

The decor throughout the house was very simple, classic, and student-friendly - white painted walls, framed posters, comfortable yet functional furniture. In fact, artwork included, the living room rather looked like a picture from an IKEA catalogue.

Stepping out onto the front porch, Lorna took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. It was a nice change, being back in California. Her father had taught at Berkeley for a few years, and although she'd been very young at the time, she had good memories of the college and the Bay area. The next few years would be a nice change from living in England, that was for sure.

She hopped down the three steps to the walkway and headed for her red, old-model Bug. Pulling open the passenger-side door, Lorna folder down the front seat and regarded the large cardboard box in the back dubiously. It wasn't only awkward, but it was going to be heavy as hell. She briefly considered waiting for someone else to get home so she could enlist some help, but decided against it. Better just to get it over with.

Face set determinedly, Lorna reached into the back, wrapped her arms around the box and pulled. It shifted, though not much. She tried again, and it moved a little more, and found herself wishing for handy powers like Jean's, rather than just being a walking magnet.

Come on, Dane, put some muscle into it, she ordered herself, before heaving and yanking the thing out of the car.

Awkwardly, she propped the box against the car and kicked the door shut. Taking a deep breath, she pulled the box away from the car, bracing herself for its full weight. It wasn't as bad as she'd expected, really. Confidence boosted, she took a step backwards to turn toward the house... and promptly caught her foot on the small curb leading from the walkway to the driveway.

With an undignified squeak, Lorna stumbled backwards, taking the box with her. The additional weight of her load compromised her balance, and she was unable to recover.

The next thing Lorna knew, she was on her back in the grass next to the walkway, staring up at the wide leaves of a palm tree. The box was crushing her stomach and ribs, making breathing difficult. But she didn't care. All she could think was thank god nobody had been around to witness that little display of elegance and grace.

She closed her eyes for a moment and opened them, blinking in surprise when the palm fronds were no longer all she could see. Instead there was a very concerned looking pair of brown eyes peering at her from over a pair of sunglasses. Lorna blinked again, noting, much to her dismay, that the eyes belonged to a very cute boy.

"Are you okay?" he asked as he quickly lifted the box off of her and crouched down beside her.

Pushing down her mortification, Lorna nodded. "Yeah, I'm fine," she told him, forcing herself to sit up without flinching. Because oh-my-god-OW. Her ribs had taken the brunt of the force from the box landing on her, and that hurt. A lot. She looked up at her rescuer and offered a half-smile. "Thanks."

Cute Boy looked at her carefully, clearly not believing her declaration that she was fine. As she awkwardly got to her feet, he placed a steadying hand on her shoulder and she leaned against it slightly, grateful though she'd never admit it. Lorna brushed her hands off on her legs, then brushed the seat of her shorts, removing dirt and grass.

Before she knew what was happening, Cute Boy was picking up the box and looking at her expectantly. He smiled at her, motioning with his head towards the house. "Anywhere in particular you want me to put this?"

Lorna started to protest, but her companion shook his head and headed up the steps. "I can get it, really," she protested following him into the house.

"Never said you couldn't," he replied, smiling over his shoulder at her. "So where to?"

Crossing her arms over her chest and managing not to wince at the pain that shot through her ribs, Lorna looked at him consideringly for a moment. He apparently wasn't going to take no for an answer, and she really, really wasn't sure she'd be able to get the box all the way up to the attic by herself. Not with her ribs screaming at her for abuse.

"Upstairs," she finally told him, resignedly.

With a nod and a smile, he headed up the stairs to the second floor. "I'm Bobby, by the way," he said, glancing down over his shoulder at her, "the new kid in the house."

Arching an eyebrow slightly, she followed him. "Lorna. Another new kid," she told him, smiling in spite of herself.

They reached the second floor landing, and Bobby looked at her expectantly. "I'm up in the attic," she told him with an apologetic look, pointing towards the door at the end of the hall.

Bobby sighed melodramatically and let his head hang forward. "Of course you are." Then he glanced up at her, lips quirking, and Lorna rolled her eyes and smirked.

"If it's too much for you, we can just wait for one of the other guys to get back," Lorna suggested casually, slipping her hands in the front pockets of her shorts and cocking her head at Bobby. Her lips twitched slightly as she tried not to grin at the indignant expression that appeared on his face.

Chuckling, Lorna smirked at him. "After you, then," she told him, motioning grandly down the hall.

They made it up to the attic with no further mishaps, and Bobby placed the box down next to the other pile of assorted boxes stacked in the far corner of the room. Looking around, Bobby whistled slowly.

"Nice," he said, nodding appreciatively, then grinned at her. "How'd you score the good room?"

Lorna shrugged and perched on the edge of her desk. Bobby mimicked her, leaning back against the stair case railing and facing her as he slid off his sunglass and hooked them in the neck of his t-shirt. "It was all that was left," she admitted. It had been, and she was thankful. The room was quite big, and came equipped with its own big, color television with DVD player. Definitely worth the extra $200 a month. She couldn't quite keep from smiling. "It is a pretty cool room. Complete with private entertainment center and everything."

Bobby grinned back at her. "What can I use to bribe you for the right to share your entertainment center? Chocolate, clothes, expensive jewelry?" He made a face and shook his head. "Scratch that last one. If I could afford that, I could afford my own TV."

"I'll think about it and let you know," she promised, smirking rather evilly at him. Because really, the possibilities were pretty much endless.

"I don't suppose you'd go easy on me, considering I just rescued you from being crushed by a box," he asked hopefully, turning on his best puppy dog eyes for the occasion.

Lorna's reaction confirmed that he'd have to do more than that, when she shook her head, flipping jade colored bangs into her eyes that she blew away with the ease of considerable practice. "Oh no, you volunteered for that," she replied with a mischievous smirk. "Doesn't count. But don't worry, I'll think of something appropriate."

Sighing, he shook his head melodramatically. "Well, I suppose I could just offer myself into indefinite servitude," he countered, and burst out laughing as she considered his offer for a moment, then nodded.

"That could work," she agreed with a grin that would have put the Cheshire Cat to shame. "I could use a personal slaveboy." She turned her back to him and started pulling open a box, then glanced at him over her shoulder. "You can start keeping me company while I unpack."

"Tell you what – if you let me run down and bring my stuff in first, I'll do you one better and bring up something to drink," he offered. "Beer or soda, assuming there's any of either?"

"I'd kill for a beer," she admitted, and he nodded as he pulled his sunglasses out with a flip and put them back on.

"Beer it is," he agreed, heading out the door and back down the stairs. Things were definitely looking up – not that that was all that difficult, at the moment.

It'd been one hell of a day, thus far. His plane had arrived at the airport two hours late. To add insult to injury, he'd arrived at the house to find that, instead of his cousin's friend Hank waiting for him, the guy'd left a note on the door explaining that he'd been "inexcusably but unavoidably summoned to diagnose a case of intermittent hiccups in a piece of laboratory equipment on campus." Translation: Bobby and his luggage were locked out of the mutant-friendly house his cousin had conned Hank into holding him an open room in as soon as she'd heard he was transferring.

Not a problem, really. He knew his way around the area after having visited Mary there the year before. So he'd hopped a bus to her apartment, grateful that he'd shipped the majority of his belongings ahead, and assuming he could crash at her place for a while. His plan had encountered one unfortunate flaw; neither Mary nor her girlfriend were home when he got there. The call to her cell phone that he should have made before traveling clear across town confirmed that she wouldn't be home until evening, that Denise was out of town for the week, and that his life would be forfeit if he broke into her apartment in any way, shape, or form. And so, still lugging suitcases, he'd returned to the house…just in time to see a green haired girl land flat on her back under a box.

A very pretty green haired girl, who'd been kind enough to let him carry her box full of bricks (or so his back insisted) up two flights of stairs. One who had a beautifully evil grin when she was trying to decide what kind of bribe would give him access to her state of the art entertainment system.

As highpoints of the day went, it wasn't much. But he'd take what he could get.

He reached the front door, only to stumble backwards when the front door swung open just as he was reaching for the knob.

"Oh, my stars and garters," a very large, very blue man wearing a pair of incongruously small, old fashioned glasses exclaimed as he extended a large, furry hand and caught hold of Bobby's arm, helping him regain his balance. "I do apologize; I hadn't realized anyone was inside, though I suppose the unlocked entryway should have provided sufficient notification had I been paying adequate attention. You must be Bobby?" he asked, his smile revealing a pair of rather prominent fangs.

Bobby nodded as he regained his equilibrium. "And you must be Hank," he countered, extending his hand, which the other man took and shook firmly. "Mary talks about you a lot."

"Your cousin is too kind," Hank replied, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "Though perhaps I should inquire as to exactly what she says about me before making such a statement."

"Well, she did mention that you have a tendency to fall asleep in the lab and that she once caught you warming hotdogs over a Bunsen burner, but other than that…" Bobby let his voice trail off, grinning up at the larger man.

Hank nodded, grimacing. "Both true, I'm afraid, though in my defense I did offer to share the hotdogs in question. She declined," he added, shaking his head as if unable to imagine why anyone would refuse Bunsen burner warmed hot dogs.

"Hard to believe," Bobby answered, shaking his head and resolving to check where any of the food in the house had been cooked before eating it. "Anyway, I left my luggage outside; I should probably retrieve it before it wanders off."

Hank nodded. "You should, indeed. And I should check on the experiment I was conducting in the basement before I was so rudely interrupted by the inability of alleged laboratory science professors to…" he continued, rattling off a stream of technical information Bobby understood less than one word of in three before raising one huge hand and wandering off.

Definitely an interesting guy. Peeking out the adjacent window first just to ensure that no one else was about to run him over, Bobby opened the door and headed outside to get his suitcases. Just in time to see them floating their way up the walk behind a tall, rather frazzled looking redhead.

"Are these yours?" she asked, then shook her head. "Sorry, you must be Bobby, right? I'm Jean."

Bobby nodded, but before he could do more than open his mouth to reply, his bags landed in front of him with a plop, and the young woman had already continued speaking.

"I'm sorry, I really don't mean to be rude, but I'm in a huge hurry," she said, offering him an apologetic smile, her eyes casting around the room. "You haven't seen a pager around anywhere, have you?"

"I believe I heard echoes of its distinctive mechanical cadences drifting down from the kitchen," Hank's voice called out, presumably from the basement stairs, and Bobby watched as Jean smiled, then closed her eyes in obvious concentration.

"I forgot, I set it down by the phone earlier," Jean said by way of explanation as the pager in question floated past him to land in her hand. "We'll talk later, ok?" she added with another smile as she turned to head back out the door. "I'm supposed to be on rounds in five minutes, and there is no way I'm going to make it on time."

"Nice to meet you – and thanks!" Bobby called out to her retreating back, then chuckled as he picked up his suitcases and headed off toward the kitchen in search of the beer. One thing seemed certain; living here was definitely not going to be boring.

Suitcases stashed in the empty room he was assuming for lack of evidence to the contrary to be his, Bobby made his back up the extra flight of stairs to the attic, beers in hand. Trying to figure out just why he'd just sold himself into slavery for the right to use Lorna's entertainment center.

Well… a reason other than those incredibly green eyes, anyway. Because he wasn't going to make that mistake again. Especially not with a housemate. Recent experiences with Opal had taught him that much, if nothing else.

"Sorry about the delay – it was a madhouse down there," he said with an apologetic smile as he pushed thoughts of Opal aside. Entering the room, he glanced around, noting that Lorna had made quite a bit of progress with her unpacking already. "Looks like you've been busy," he observed, raising his eyebrows. "Ready for a break? I've got the beers," he grinned, holding up the bottles as evidence.

"A break would be good," Lorna agreed, setting down a stack of books on her desk and crossing the room to flop down on her bed, flinching only slightly as she jarred her sore ribs. She took one of the bottles, twisted off the cap, and raised in it a toast. "To new housemates?" she suggested.

She watched in amusement as Bobby struggled with his own bottle, giving the cap a dirty look before finally managing to twist it off (after she gave it a little, unnoticeable twist with her powers). With a smile, he raised his bottle. "To new housemates."

He nodded and took a long pull from his bottle before setting it down and looking around her room. "So, what did you do with all the bricks, anyway?"

Lorna scowled and reached out with her foot to kick him lightly as she took a sip from her own bottle. "Books, not bricks," she corrected, rolling her eyes. Her lips twitched in amusement. "Y'know, the big bound paper things some people use to study with...?"

Bobby nodded slowly, in mock-consideration. "Y'know, I've heard of those… not sure I've ever seen one, though," he admitted, lips twitching and big brown eyes dancing mischievously.

Raising her bottle again, Lorna arched an eyebrow, took a sip, then smirked at him. "And this should surprise me why?"

A very fake astonished look appeared on Bobby's face, causing an actual grin to appear on her lips. "What, are you trying to imply I don't look like the studious type? I'll have you know I spent whole days in the library last year." He sniffed indignantly, but was quite obviously fighting not to grin.

Letting out a snort of laughter, Lorna smirked at him. "Hitting on the cute girls studying there doesn't count."

Laughing, he shook his head and gave her a sheepish look. "Sleeping, actually. My roommate was a nightmare."

"Ouch," Lorna winced, shaking her head sympathetically. "Sorry. Is that the reason behind the change in living quarters?"

"Just moved here, actually," he told her with a grin. "Transfer student, NYU. How 'bout you?"

So they weren't just the new kids to the house, they were the new kids to the school. Something else to bond over, Lorna noted. "I'm a transfer, too. Just starting post-grad work." She took a sip of her beer. "Why the move from NYU?"

"Change of scenery," he replied with a shrug and a half smile. Something about the look on his face told Lorna there was more to the story than he was letting on, but she wasn't going to pry at this point. "And Mary's been on my butt to move out here for years, so I figured why not?"

"Girlfriend?" she asked, head cocked to one side, refusing to acknowledge that maybe she was more than just a little curious.

He burst out laughing and shook his head. "Cousin. She's a grad student here."

Lorna nodded, impressed. "What's she studying?"

The almost embarrassed look on Bobby's face had her eyebrows arching high while she waited for his reply. "Ummm... parapsychology? She's had this lifelong dream of being a ghost buster. You know, run around with a camera crew and check out people's stories about haunted houses, stuff like that." He grinned, and Lorna could see the very obvious affection he held for his cousin, no matter how weird he thought she was. "She's working on her thesis, now. Can't wait to hear all the gory details."

"I think that sounds pretty cool, actually," Lorna admitted. With her powers, her (somewhat irritating) ability to see magnetic fields, she'd seen some things over the years that had prompted some late night hidden readings on the subject of ghosts. The Internet was a fantastic tool when you didn't want flatmates knowing what you were up to. "How 'bout you? What's your academic poison?"

She almost regretted asking as Bobby adopted an embarrassed look. "Drama major?" he offered, making it a question.

Laughing, Lorna shook her head and smiled gently at him. "Why do you say it like that?"

Bobby rolled his eyes and grinned. "Because I'm used to everyone saying," his face changed, going almost blank, his voice completely even, "Oh. That's nice." Lorna chuckled as he shrugged. "Besides, trying to decide if I should switch to something more practical."

Lorna shifted on the bed, leaning back and propping herself up on her elbows so she could watch him. "If it's something you're having fun with, there's absolutely nothing wrong with it." She took a sip of her beer, then cocked her head at him consideringly. Drama somehow made sense for him. There was something about him, a quality that made you want to look at him, to pay attention to him. He was inherently likeable, which she supposed was a good thing as an actor. "What're you thinking about changing to?"

"Oh, I don't know," he began with a sigh and a shrug. "Business Administration or something, I guess. Maybe accounting. Something I might conceivably be able to pay rent on. There's that whole guaranteed paycheck thing, y'know."

Lorna pulled a face. "God, business admin? Why would you want to do that to yourself? There are countless other ways to bring in a paycheck than sacrificing your soul to the world of business."

Bobby shrugged noncommittally, then raised his bottle and took a drink before looking at her curiously. "How 'bout you? What brings you to San Fran?"

Lorna mimicked Bobby, taking a drink from her own bottle. "Berkeley's got one of the best post-grad programs anywhere in ancient history and Mediterranean archaeology. Couldn't resist it."

"Mediterranean archeology?" he repeated, eyebrows raised. "Wow, that sounds intense."

"Not really," she replied, taking a sip of beer at the same time he did. "Boring as hell to a lot of people, definitely, but intense?" Lorna shrugged. "I dunno. It's a labor of love for me, so I don't really look at it that way."

She watched as Bobby settled back in his chair and pinned her with a curious look. "Why archeology? If you don't mind me asking, that is".

"I was raised with it," she replied with a crooked smile. "My dad's an archaeologist, and I grew up all over the world, traveling with him from dig to dig. He quite literally taught me everything he knew." She took another sip of her beer and her lips curled into a fond smile as she thought back to her childhood experiences with her dad. "It just seemed natural for me to follow in his footsteps."

Bobby smiled, and Lorna couldn't quite help but notice just how nice a smile he had. He was definitely very cute, a fact she really shouldn't be noticing about someone she had to live with for the next god only knew how long. That kind of complication was something to be avoided.

Not that cute, sweet boy-next-door types usually fell for her anyway, so it was rather a moot point. Lorna was quite used to being considered just one of the boys by guys like Bobby. Irritating though it may be, it was just a fact of life.

"Sounds like a fun way to grow up," he observed with a grin, and Lorna nodded in agreement. "My dad took me to work once for 'take your kid to work day'. It lasted about an hour." Bobby shook his head and chuckled. "He was unimpressed with me trying to photocopy my face, called my mom to have her come get me."

Lorna burst our laughing, having absolutely no problem imagining that. "Jeez, I can't picture you pulling anything like that at all."

Bobby laughed, too, and offered her a mischievous grin. "Yeah well, I was eight. Besides, Mary egged me on. Might not have been too big a deal, if she hadn't been trying to fax them using the autodial feature on the fax machine."

"Oh man," she laughed, wincing slightly. "Why do I think it's a very bad thing that you two are at the same college now?"

Bobby shook his head. "No clue. We were perfectly well behaved kids," he insisted with a serious, innocent expression that Lorna wasn't buying for a second.

Eyeing him skeptically, she took another sip from her nearly empty bottle of beer. "Riiiiiight. Sounds like."

"Well, it was a long time ago, anyway," he relented with a laugh. "Besides, the chances of us ending up in the same building at any given time are practically nil, so it should be pretty safe."

Lorna smirked. "Thank god for that."

"Okay, we're getting off this subject, or my reputation will be in shreds before I even start class," Bobby announced, shaking his head. "Where'd you undergrad?"

Lorna raised her bottle. "Oxford," she replied, then took a sip and smiled crookedly at him. "Year-round sunlight will be a nice change."

Bobby shuddered dramatically. "Yeah, I bet. Ouch. Well, now we know the real reason you came here," he said with a wink.

"Absolutely," she deadpanned. "I plan on spending all my waking hours on the beach. Couldn't you tell?"

Bobby gave her a knowing look and nodded. "I suspected as much. The books are just smoke screen."

"Yup. A very heavy, convincing smoke screen."

"Well, that or you brought them just to see if you could carry them up the stairs," he suggested with a laugh, before looking at her with concern. "You okay? You really did land hard..."

Lorna shrugged and offered Bobby a half smile. "Yeah, I'm okay. Embarrassed, a little bruised, probably, but okay." She looked up at him and smiled crookedly. "I guess I owe you one."

Bobby chuckled and shook his head. Tipping up his beer, he drained it and eyed the empty bottle ruefully. "No problem," he replied with a grin. "You can let me use your TV."

Lorna sighed sadly. "So that's what it always comes back to, huh, the TV? Fine. I guess hauling that box upstairs does entitle you to a couple of freebies. In fact, if you want to go get us a couple of refills, you can have full reign over the TV while I finish unpacking." She smirked evilly at him. "We can talk about the indentured servitude thing in exchange for TV privileges later."

Coming soon: Chapter 2

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