It took several hours of talking and telepathy before Xavier had accepted her place in James' life, and therefor in the school. And as such, she was escorted around the school by the Professsor who introduced her to the other staff. Some went by their mutant names and others by their birth name, Xavier explained how she had already met Scott Summers or Cyclops, Bobby Drake who also went by Iceman – a mutation she was very interested in seeing in action, Kitty Pryde or Shadowcat, and Rogue – who never went by her human name, the professor refusing to tell her what it was. Not forgetting Piotr Rasputin who went by Colossos on the field.

As they travelled through the school they also met Ororo Monroe -Storm-, Remy LaBeau -or Gambit-, Kurt Vagner or as she was told he was called in the Munich Circus, 'The Incredible Nightcrawler.' There was a blue fuzzy guy called Dr Hank McCoy, who fittingly also went by Beast, and other staff that even she couldn't keep up with all the names thrown at her in one day.

"So I can stay for a bit?" Morgan asked the bald man, "I mean I'll pay and all, I'm not a bum or anything."

"Oh I know," he laughed, "I'm a telepath remember? Actually I was wondering if you'd want to work as a member of staff, you could teach should you decide to? And all of our staff live on site, with a respectable wage on top of their accommodation and food."

"It sounds like a really sweet gig bu I don't really think I'm best to teach kids Baldy."

"And that's what Logan said when he first arrived, but now he teaches their physical education lessons and mechanic, not to mention the fact that he run's the danger room sessions for those who train there." he looked at her seriously, "Morgan there truly is a place for everyone here."

She nodded, truth be told, she'd never really spent any time with kids before, having been trained to kill mercilessly, so that's all she knew, war, booze and strip-clubs; nothing a kid could really relate to.

"I'll give you some time to think about it then." The Professor said as they reached her bedroom door.

"Sure," she said, "Thanks Wheels."

A teacher? she'd signed up to be a fucking teacher. What had her life come to?

Morgan had spoken to the Professor again the next day, and had offered to teach art and politics, and to help Logan with any of his lessons. They both had the same background, so it made sense for them to teach the same subjects, but she couldn't go stealing all of his classes now could she?

And she had settled into it surprisingly well.

Sure there was the occasional smartass, but who's gonna pick a fight in an art class?

It was nice. She hadn't been able to paint since before her time working for Stryker, and there was something... therapeutic about it all. Oh God who was she?

But settling into normalcy was easy, and in time James began to trust her more again. It had hurt, realising that someone who was such a big part of her life, had somehow completely erased her from theirs. But in regaining their trust of eachother, they had also rekindled their friendship. He had asked about the memories she'd shown him. Not often, and only when they were alone, so that no-one could hear them. But she thought somehow he knew, and maybe that meant his memories were returning or not. Morgan might have some psychic abilities, but she couldn't do that much. This was something James would have to do on his own.

And it was him who stopped her train of thought, alone at night the mansion should have been silent, and to anyone else in the mansion it could have been anybody. But she knew that sound.

"Aaah!" the muffled scream came from across the corridor.

She'd had enough of listening to his pain, so stepped out of bed and pulled a long cardigan over her shorts and camisole and padded over to James room, shutting my bedroom door carefully behind her.

She knocked gently on his door, "James?" she whispered, "You okay?" But had no reply other than the pained grunts and moans from behind the wooden panel in front of her.

Morgan turned at the handle, but the door was locked. She bent down to look at the handle and used her telekenises to turn the lock from inside the door. A small click later, and the door slowly opened, allowing her access to James' room.

She tiptoed over to him, "Jimmy?"

His breathing got faster, ragged pants coming out of his mouth. She sat down gently on the edge of his bed, her hands resting on his shoulders, "James wake up. It's just a dream Jimmy, it's just a-"

Morgan was interrupted by his roar as he awoke. His eyes wide and black, unfocused, and not recognising her.

He pushed her over quickly, pinning her slightly smaller frame down beneath him on the bed. Her wrists caught in an unrelenting grip, the kind of hold that would leave fractures, if not brakes in the bone for her to deal with later in the day, Morgan grimaced at the pain. But watched James above her. He looked at her in anger, fear and then confusion, as his eyes turned from black to their normal hazel colour. He'd taken her by surprise, but she'd stayed quiet beneath him, recognising when his feral was dominant, "You good there James?" Morgan asked.

He looked down at her, unsure of what to do with the position they were in. He pushed himself off of her and sat back against the headboard, his bare chest gleaming from sweat. Using her elbows to push herself up, she got off the bed and walked to sit down on the small couch. "Where were you?" Morgan asked gently.

He groaned, "I'm not sure, think somewhere in Asia, looked like Japs."

"And there was a blast," she said, "We were stuck in a bunker."

He nodded, "Sounds about right." he said.

"August 6th 1983." I said, not looking at him but instead down at my wrists, resetting the damaged bone, "We were trapped. To them we were prisoners of war, but we were just laying low. Its one of the first real missions we ever went on. Not Japan, North Korea, completely undercover. There was a bomb dropped, and we couldn't escape. The blast got you though. I hadn't developed a healing factor like yours yet, the blast would have killed me, or put me out of service for a long time, and you took the burn. You were proper mangled by the time the blast had gone. And we stayed there until both of us were strong enough to get out back to Stryker."

"It hurt." he said.

"Well it woulda," she nodded, "By the time it was safe enough for me to get up, I could see your spine, your flesh was all gone."

She looked over at him, his eyes distant and tired. "Go back to sleep Jimmy." she whispered.

He ran a hand through his hair, trying to pull himself together. He didn't say anything, nor did he move. "I'll give you some space then." she said, moving to get up.

"No." he said. "Stay."

Morgan laid down on the couch, facing the ceiling but able to see James if she turned her head slightly. "It was quite the return trip," she started, "After your back was all normal again we climbed out. Stopped at a bar in every country getting back to base, well at least one. Took a fucking detour through Canada so you could get some 'real beer'." She motioned with her fingers. "Tastes the same though. No difference in Canadian beer. You got shitfaced though."

"Oh yeah?" he laughed.

"It took me hours, trying to sneakily spike your drinks. You knew though, could taste it, I didn't know how sensitive your senses were then. And eventually we took shots, dared you to a contest, who could down the most without throwing up. You won by the way." Morgan looked over at him smiling, "I mean I was a very good competitor, almost 24 tequilas later and I puked all over your shoes."

"That's disgusting." he groaned.

"It was hilarious." She retorted, "It froze as soon as we left the bar to go home. And you walked back into the base with puke icicles on your boots."

"Thought I was drunk." He asked.

"Yeah," she said closing her eyes, "That's why you were only wearing your boots."