Ever since he'd came back to the school, everything had been weird.

Logan was used to feeling weird, feeling like an outsider. Hell, that had been the narrative of his life before he came to Xavier's school. Don't get him wrong- he wasn't here to spread fuzzy family feelings and shit, but he'd gotten into the routine, gotten into the swing of things. He liked what he had done- teach kids how to hold their own without their powers, teach them how to be more than just their gifts. It had allowed him to actually be useful, but still be himself.

He wouldn't tell anyone how happy it made him. If he was gonna sit around and tell people his feelings, he may as well slap on a pair of pigtails and call himself Scott Summers.

But it was good. Life was good in that moment.

And then it all went to hell, and Jean died, and he decided that it was time to be himself again. Time to stop being whatever character he'd tried to form himself into.

So he'd left the school without a word, just went on his way, with barely any plan at all. Just like before, all he'd ever known. He wasn't running, Logan assured himself, just going back to his instincts, going back to who he really was. No more playing school.

But now he was back. He didn't dwell on what had happened during his absence, didn't tell anyone what had made him come back. If Xavier were still alive, still there in that school, he would've known immediately. Would've scanned his mind so quickly that Logan wouldn't of even noticed- he maybe wouldn't of even minded. Sometimes, misery was easier shared.

There wasn't Xavier, but there was Ororo.

She was the one waiting at the gate for him, as if she just knew he was coming back. He wondered if she'd sensed him somehow, akin to the way Xavier would always know his immediate arrivals. Logan couldn't begin to understand half the stuff that woman could do- she was completely otherworldly, and completely too good for him.

Yet she'd been there waiting for him; her hair was down around her, floating in some non existent breeze, her eyes closed. Logan had tried his best to be quiet, hoping he could somehow sneak around her and back up to his old room, completely skip the greetings.

"You won't even say hello to an old friend?" Ororo had said smoothly, amusement in her voice but tension underneath, hiding under friendly pretenses. He stiffened up, turning around to face her, like a child caught with one hand in the cookie jar.

"Didn't wanna cause a scene. Already painful enough." Logan had grunted back, shrugging his shoulders best he could, trying to hide whatever emotions had threatened to bubble up inside him.

Ororo smiled, tense but somehow kind. "Welcome back, Logan."

Logan just nodded his head limply, making a noise in response. He shrugged his bag back on his shoulder, and turned to enter the gates, trying to ignore the woman behind him.

But it was difficult. Even though there was Jean, before all of it went to hell, there was also Ororo, pulling like something he knew he shouldn't- couldn't- touch.

Logan pushed it away, ignored the thought. He was back at Xavier's, back where he told himself he was supposed to be. He had gotten into the swing of things again, and it was as if he'd never left. Things had changed- students older, new ones thrown in. The X-Men themselves were just as torn apart and fractured as he felt himself. But they were rebuilding, a new start.

Logan couldn't say he was confident that it was a wise choice. Not after what he'd seen, what he'd experienced when he was away.

The next few days were interesting, to say the least.

St. John Allerdyce's sudden appearance at Xavier's School for the Gifted caused a whirlwind of turmoil, one that had each staff member struggling to put out the flames, so to say. It was a complete, utter mess, if John did say himself, but he was sitting back with a cheeky grin and enjoying every minute of it. It sure beat being lonely in some random town that didn't even mark a map.

The students of the school, the new generation of mutants, ranged in ages from nine to eighteen (with a few exceptions, of course), with a variety of unique, confusing powers. It had changed radically since John had served his few years there- it now had a full basketball court, which he was insanely jealous of and vowed to utilize immediately. It had grown its own greenhouse, a tower with what he'd heard was an impressive telescope with a few alien technologies, and a whole other addition to the Mansion that included rooms he couldn't wait to meddle in. John felt a rush of sentimental love, which immediately disgusted him.

This was still the place he left, the place he vowed never to come back to- but he was different, damnit. John would never admit it to anyone, but he was confused, conflicted, his mind in a torn state. He wasn't sure what was 'right' or 'wrong' anymore, and whether he even wanted to be 'right'. He felt like a passenger in someone else's body right now, making decisions on a whim as they came along, and so he thought he'd at least have fun with it.

And though the X-Mansion had changed extensively, one thing was the same- the mutants, without powers, were just normal teenagers. And that meant they had mouths that loved to gossip and gab about everything.

It was immensely entertaining to John.

He sat around his first English Literature class, cross-legged on his desk, completely at ease with the situation. He'd worn a button-shirt and tie, complete with freakin' slacks, because he at least had to follow the dress code or he'd have Pryde tearing the clothes off him (which wasn't nearly as bad a thought as it should've been). But John had thrown his leather jacket on at the last minute, enjoying how completely out of place it looked. Just according to plan.

His students had filtered in- pretty young, around thirteen or fourteen. A few were obvious mutants, with extreme physical changes. Others not so obvious, seemingly completely normal. But they all eyed him with a bit of terror in their eyes, whispering secrets between their classmates. John grinned wildly.

"Well, I'm St. John Allerdyce, your new professor of English and such. But you can just call me the best goddamn teacher you'll ever have."

A few gaped, one annoying girl gasped loudly, another frowned. Was cursing in the classroom allowed? John sure hoped not.

"As you can see, I brought nothing here to teach you with because learning about words will do you absolutely no good if, say, ole' Juggernaut is trying to bash your brains in." John said cheerily, using his hands to paint a picture in the minds. A few horrified looks stared back at him. Oh, this was golden.

"But for today, I'll just answer any questions you all have for me."

One girl with spunky black hair shot her hand up, seemingly unable to sit still wit all the questions she had planned.

"Yeah, you." John threw a lazy hand in her general direction.

"Are you dating Ms. Pryde?"

"I'm ready to murder him, Logan." Kitty hissed, clenching her fist around her bottle of beer, shaking back her brown locks. She had her legs crossed daintily, a funny contradiction to the beer in her hand and the exercise clothes she still wore. Her crossed leg was twitching, agitated, a tick she'd always had. Logan masked his smile with a swig of his own drink.

They were drinking out on the balcony of his room, at Logan's insistence. They taught the same hand to hand combat class together, and she'd came in like a firecracker today, practically burning the room down with her gaze. After pushing the students harder than she had before, and even intimidating the hell out of Logan, he'd insisted that she cooled down a bit before the evening.

"Well, I don't like having the white bitch around here, either." Logan added, knowing that somewhere the witch was bristling, knowing she was being talked down. But hell, if she picked up every time Logan thought or said something hateful about her, she'd never hear anything but shit.

Kitty snorted.

"Who does? Scott?" Kitty shook her head, glaring off into the expansive backyard of the school. "Only because he's got a warm body in his bed."

"There ain't a damn thing warm about that woman." Logan shot back, glad that he'd been able to change the subject. He'd knew that the kid would bother her, and he was glad to take her mind away from-

"He's spreading rumors that we're still screwing around with each other. I heard some students say that I was in love with him, of all things." Kitty growled, slamming her beer down on the table between them. She clenched and unclenched her fists again, shaking her head. Logan prayed for the poor sod that had ticked her off so.

"They're kids, Kit. He probably just mentioned you two had a past- yeah, I know, not professional to bring up, but he's an ass- and they filled in the blanks." Logan told her, rolling one of his thick cigars through his fingers, contemplating. He hated playing supportive friend- he was bad at it, and it made him feel like he should go paint his freakin' nails or something. But this was Kitty Pryde, a girl he'd taught from the beginning, a girl who made him so proud he couldn't help but beam.

Kitty had missed him when he was gone, and he had missed her. Although Logan painted himself a perfect image of a complete uncaring asshole, he had missed the few people close to him dearly. And now Kit had grown up without him there, now stronger and more powerful, no longer a teenager. Though he wasn't quite sure about Wisdom.

"You're right." Kitty said, surprising him- he hadn't expected her to agree with him so suddenly. A part of him was sad- he really wanted to see her go kick the little flame's ass. "Just the other day, I heard that you and Scott were having an affair."

"No shit?" Logan grunted, raising an eyebrow. "Hell, he didn't even have the decency to tell me we were screwing. I woulda cleaned up a bit."

Kitty laughed despite herself, trying to put the nasty situation behind her.

John found that Kitty was very, very good at avoiding people.

It wasn't a surprise- even back when they were just teenagers, screwing around with the idea of identity and heroes, trying to find their fit in it all, she'd been scary good. She pushed her powers to the edge, finding out how far they'd go, and then she'd pushed herself even further, and last he'd heard she was practically a master in all sorts of combat techniques. And that was still news from years ago, before he left it all behind him.

He could still beat her, he told himself, a bit skeptical, but he quickly pushed that questioning away.

She was always good at blending in with the shadows, phasing silently, and she had somehow gotten even better- John didn't see her in his first few days at all. Yeah, the Mansion was massive and was home to hundreds of kids and a good amount of staff, but Kitty wasn't easily missed.

With the not-so-childlike adoration some male (and female) students had for her, she couldn't go unnoticed by everyone. But was practically nonexistent, in John's time there. It was less fun to poke and prod at a person who wasn't even there.

Hell, John hadn't even met half the staff members that were the main team yet.

There was Ororo, who had been sheltered towards him at first, but quickly resorted to her motherly ways. She'd been watching him like a hawk since he arrived, both to help and scold.

"You've got to teach them, John." Ororo had told him after the first day of classes, arriving in his doorway as he finished moving his few belongings into his personal room. She'd scared him half to death, standing in the doorway as still and quiet as could be. She'd always been that way- warm and loving, but seemingly otherworldly and scary as hell.

"I don't know how to teach kids." John had offered lamely- he'd never been able to lie to Ororo. She was the one who had always scared him, simply because she could see right through him to what lay beneath.

"It will come with practice, I promise." She said, little wrinkles appearing around her striking eyes as she regarded him, a bit of warmth slipping into the hard demeanor she tried to test him with. They hadn't parted on the best terms, and he felt a little guilty.

"We didn't bring you back for your teaching skills." Ororo had said as she turned to drift back down the hallway, leaving only the feeling of electricity in the air and the weight of her words on John's chest.

There was also Hank, who had poked and prodded at him like he were some test animal. He'd said it was a physical, but John knew he did a few more things than just that. He didn't ask questions, though, to the surprise of both of them. The big, blue man had barely changed since John had seen him last, save for the few silver hairs that shimmered on his skin when he moved. He was still the same socially-awkward, intelligent man John had never really understood.

And then there was Emma Frost.

John had felt his hair stand on end when he'd first met her outside the gates of the school, leaning against the beautiful white posts like she belonged there, outfitted in racy white. She was unimpressed by his arrival, and she showed it. It seemed like the only real emotion she exhibited. She'd looked him over, and John had felt naked as can be, feeling her eyes take in the physical and her prying telepathic fingers feel for the rest. He pushed back, just as he'd once been taught, and saw her lip curl, a growl testing her ruby mouth.

"That's not a good first impression, Mr. Allerdyce." She'd hissed, her words just as icy as her demeanor. He wondered dimly if she'd refuse to let him in, wondered if it were all a ploy to get him to humiliate himself outside his old home. But she'd opened the gates without a touch of her hand, simply walking in without him, her cape flying behind her. He let himself in.

Other than those three, he had yet to meet the other members of the team, surprisingly. He was a bit disappointing- he fancied himself important enough to warrant a welcome party, but perhaps not.

He'd met Pete Wisdom, but surely that piece of work wasn't on the team. If there were a god somewhere out there, Wisdom would not be on the X-Men team.

On the third day of his new life, he'd found a note in his room, slid under the door. He was a little pissed at first. Leaving notes? What were they, twelve again? But he thought that he'd be even more pissed if they entered without him there.

John sat on his bed, pushing his shoes off his feet as he slipped a thumb under the envelope seal.

Mr. Allerdyce,

We meet in the War Room at 9 pm. Do be punctual.

The letter was signed with a kiss, blood-red with the addition of a thick lipstick. John didn't even have to question who had wrote it, and he turned his nose up at the thought of Emma Frost kissing his invitation, just to further mock him.

But it was interesting, a mark of something new, if he did say so himself. He'd never been a true member of the X-Men, and though the idea would've been revolting to old John Allerdyce, the new idea was intriguing. And the War Room- he'd only heard about it in whispers as a teenager attending Xavier's School.

He and Bobby Drake had tried to hunt it down one night when they were twelve, a flashlight and a scrap of notebook paper with a sloppily drawn map between them. They'd been found almost immediately by Logan, and they had screamed, both boys terrified at the sight of the older man finding them in the act.

John smiled a little despite himself.

John was worried he wouldn't actually be able to find the War Room in the first place.

He wandered down the hallways of the underground station, poking his head through doorways and adventuring down stairwells. The whole place was dark, lighting up and humming with electricity only once he'd set his foot in the areas. John wondered if he'd been set up, a flame of anger rushing through him.

Would you get kicked out of the X-Men for not being able to find their missions room? Was that a prerequisite?

Maybe this were some higher being telling him he was wrong, that the X-Men were exactly like they'd been when he fought against them- useless, spineless mutants trying to bring equality and peace to a world that wanted (and needed) anything but. He began to feel the doubt seep in, settle into his bones.

Are you lost, Mr. Allerdyce?

The voice was mocking, haughty and amused. He clenched his fists, gritting his teeth.

I'm only here to lend you a hand, boy. One more floor down and through the blue hallway, dear.

John bit his lip, deciding not to give her a clear response to that. He was pissed she was slipping into his head again, just another way they'd completely shit on his personal space, but without her help he probably wouldn't be able to find his way through the maze of underground.

Don't worry. I won't tell Kitty.

John let a few choice words float in her direction, trudging down the hallway.

He found his way eventually, though his arrival made him wish he hadn't found his way.

They'd all looked at him, seven sets of eyes training themselves upon him in an instance. They each had varying looks in his direction, each set of eyes thinking a different set of thoughts about the situation. But John still felt vulnerable, naked and bare, as if the universe was strongly pushing him in the complete opposite direction of this team. He should've walked straight out the doors when he got the chance, left all of this behind him.

But that recurring feeling had slipped into him again- that feeling of being a voyeur in his own body, just a passenger along for the ride. What the hell was he even doing, agreeing to come back to the school. And so he stayed quiet, hoping they would pass over him quickly.

Instead, he looked back at them.

There was Emma, lounging in one of the leather chairs that adorned the tech room, in her startling white attire. She grinned as if she were a cat that had caught a bird, gleefully watching it writhe in pain. John saw a hand attached to her shoulder, and he followed it up to the body it belonged to.

Oh. That was a surprise.

It was the boy-scout himself, Scott Summers. John couldn't mask the amazed look on his features, the raised brows. He was very similar to how he'd been while John was attending the school, but much harder, more rigid. He no longer observed, but instead glared, his mouth in a tense line. And the fact that he was at Emma's side, a loyal dog- it made John sick. This was not the X-Men he remembered, and he wasn't sure whether to be glad or worried.

Behind them was Hank, who had barely given John a second glance; he was tinkering with the screens on the wall behind Emma, seemingly in his own world. Storm was beside him, looking at John; her eyes were not cold and prying, like the others, but warm in their own way. To any other, it would seem strict.

And next to them, Logan. John hadn't seen him in forever, and he knew that it was probably a good thing that he hadn't. He was the same, unaged, but his eyes were sharp. John assumed it was probably because of the fact that he was looking at Pyro, at what he had once been. He didn't blame him.

A shock of blue fur next to the Wolverine caught John's attention, and he second-guessed his own eyes. It was Kurt Wagner, yes, but he'd grown up immensely. He was no longer wiry or skinny, but instead a creature of lean muscle, his hair a curly mess atop his head, his features sharp and handsome. John was a little surprised- give him normal skin, he thought, and he'd be hot. Chop off the tail, too.

And standing close to him was Kitty Pryde, not masking the hate in her narrowed, golden eyes. She was leaning against the computer desk behind her, her arms crossed across her chest. She was dressed much more modestly today, but still nice- a simple sweater and dark pair of jeans, both of which hugged her figure. John, feeling much more like himself, quickly raked his eyes down her body, much to her distaste.

"Ah, our last member." Emma said cooly, a knowing grin on her face as she crossed one long leg over the other. John was pleasantly surprised at that revelation- he was fine with being last, making them all waste their precious time on him, but even better than that was the fact that Pete Wisdom wasn't there. John couldn't help but sport a cocky, amused grin at that thought.

"So we can finally begin." Scott announced, gritting his teeth together. The boy scout was still a hard-ass after all these years, John mused. The mutants snapped out of their previous actions- most of which included gawking at the new member- and instead moved to the long, shiny table that sat in the middle of the War Room.

It really was an impressive room- the walls were lined with screens of varying sizes, most of the technology kinds that John couldn't even begin to process. There were headsets and weapons placed carefully around the room, most of them being completely bizarre, non-Earth items. John had never had an interest in the affairs of aliens- hell, he could barely keep up or deal with the affairs of humans- but the new technology around him was suddenly very interesting. He couldn't even begin to understand most of the items.

Kitty probably could, he thought before he could stop himself. She was always good with those things.

He took a seat at the far end of the table, finding himself between Kurt and Storm. John felt awkward in the situation. He used to revel in the feeling of not fitting in, the gratification of being better than the spineless X-Men. Now, sitting among those he'd grown up with, the ones who had taught him, the ones he had abandoned without a second thought, the ones he had hurt in many ways- it made John Allerdyce feel guilt for the first time in years.

"I'm not going to sugar-coat what we've found out, because I assume most of you have heard the rumors already." Scott told them grimly, clasping his hands behind his back as he stood in front of the room. His shoulders were tense, his mouth in a straight, tight line.

"There has been another cure made, but this one has been…. proven." He announced, spitting out the words, his opinion very clear.

John couldn't believe what he was hearing- it was like a punch to his gut, the breath stolen from his lungs. The last time they'd had this problem, life was drastically different; he was a whole different being. And the last time, it had been a dud. He'd heard in whispers over the years that it had been revived, the effort multiplied. But there was never any real, hard facts, and he assumed that maybe the world had began to accept that there shouldn't be a cure. But now it was all too real, no longer whispers.

He felt sick.

"I know you probably have many questions, but we know little to nothing about it so far, except the fact that it's far more of a risk than what was developed years ago. " Scott said, motioning to himself and Dr. McCoy. The room was a funny contradiction to his statement- no questions had been asked, instead the mutants around John seemed motionless, almost uncaring in shock. He wanted to shake them, get them just as angry and pissed as he was.

"It's in extremely early stages. But it's already been proven to be a huge risk. There were two mutants they tested on, two orphans. " Dr. McCoy explained, leaning forward onto the table, his fury frame grazing the tabletop. "One died within days, the other was a 'success', if you could call it that. And that's why we need to interfere."

The room snapped out of it immediately.

"Interfere?" Kurt asked, his brow furrowed and his expression conflicted. "Why must we interfere?"

"Think of how badly this could be manipulated against us, yet again. If it's the real thing this time, it could mean extermination." Emma snapped, her sterling eyes sharp and cold.

"But think about the future it could potentially mean for the mutants with more extreme physical ailments." Kurt responded, his three-fingered hands animated as he talked. His tail twitched behind him, showing his agitation. "I do not wish to take the so-called cure, but I must live my life in total rejection by society. Picture a young child like me growing up in the increasingly hostile world- must he be submitted to all of this? Not even able to live a normal life?"

"I agree that it could be useful, but the test case proves that it's a much stronger, more deadly version of what we've already faced," Kitty added in. "Would you take the chance of dying just for a chance at a life without powers?"

Kurt shook his head, closing his eyes and tapping his fingers on the table. He had taken the news much harder than anyone else at the table, and he seemed to be very passionate on the matter.

"God, with this much power, they could weaponize it against us." Logan said from across the table, surprising everyone with his input. His voice was gruff and low, his eyes cloudy, as if his mind were elsewhere.

"Whatever it could do," Scott said after a moment of silence, fixing the room with hard faces. "We're containing it. Tomorrow night, dress nice. We're going to a ball."