FUCKERS PUT A CAST ON ME. Apparently I bruised the bones in my wrist in addition to the carpal tunnel nonsense and now I HAVE THIS PINK MONSTROSITY ON MY ARM (alright the pink was my idea, it was the most obnoxious color they had because go big or go home)I can't move my thumb. I look like a baby giraffe's first three minutes of awkward life when I type. It's awful.

Four weeks though, and then the cast (Which I've named Crips) comes off. I'll try not to be a failure at the update thing, but no promises. This note took legit fifteen minutes to type up coherently.


9. To start the war!

Hank McCoy sighed tiredly, rubbing the bridge of his nose underneath his dainty reading glasses before turning back to the computer screen he had been toiling over for the past hour.

The automatic doors hissed opened and Hank turned, pleased with the distraction.

"How's he doing?" Logan grunted as he entered, sparing the man on the table a wary glance over the rim of his coffee cup.

"I don't know." Hank admitted. "His body temperature is abnormally high, indicating infection, however, when I changed his bandages, his hands were … exemplary."

"Healing factor?" Logan leaned against the doorframe.

"Perhaps." Hank allowed. "If anything, a very minute one." He glanced back at his computer. "If I'm correct about my calculations, he should be in perfect health in three days."

"Three days, huh?" Logan spared another look at the man on the table. Three days to perfect health after the severity of those burns was nothing to sniff at. "I guess that means me and him got something in common, huh?" Logan peeled away from the doorframe and made his way to the side of the table to inspect the damage for himself.

"It would appear so." Hank grinned.

"Damn." Logan grimaced. "I thought I'd die 'fore I had anything in common with him."

Hank chuckled. "Quite."

"Where's Rogue? I thought she'd be chained to his bedside." Logan hunkered down in the seat that Rogue had been occupying for the better part of the morning.

"I sent her upstairs to get some sleep." Hank said over his shoulder as he turned back to his computer.

"Hm." Logan considered. "She seems awful attached to this kid all of the sudden."

"You haven't heard?" Hank's eyebrows rose.

"Heard what?"

"Oh my." Hank turned fully to Logan. "It seems that Rogue and Gambit have the same amount of control over their mutations."

Logan frowned. "None?"

"Minimal at best." Hank nodded. "It seems Rogue has developed a sense of kinship with the young man."

Logan's frown deepened.

Kinship.

He didn't like that.

Rogue already had 'kin' here. Logan was that kin. They had a good thing going for them. The last thing he needed was some cocky Cajun coming in and ruining that. Just as Rogue was starting to come out of her shell, too. Just as she was getting a little fire in her eyes.

He wasn't about to let some prick come in and ruin all of that.

Speaking of the prick: "Merde." The kid groaned himself awake, automatically going to clutch at his thigh. "Did she stab me?"

"Mornin' sunshine." Logan hid his smirk behind the steam from his coffee cup.

"Ah, Mr. LeBeau, awake are we?" Hank rose from his desk, broad smiles and welcome hands.

Logan saw the narrowing of the kid's devil eyes as indication he didn't trust Hank's welcome hands one bit.

"Where're m' shades?" He demanded, subtly moving backwards on the table, shoulders rolling apprehensively under his tattered shirt.

"The lights have been dimmed." Hank assured the boy. "I inferred from your earlier reaction to the intense lighting of the medical wing that it would be necessity."

"The only necessity here is m' shades." He growled deep in his throat, edging closer towards the door.

"Calm down, Gumbo." Logan's hands fell on the younger man's shoulder, halting his subtle escape and staunching his anger for a moment of shock. "Hank may have a roundabout way of explaining it, but he means well."

For the first time the full force of those unshielded red and black eyes turned on Logan, glaring with such a force Logan could have sworn they were glowing. Despite himself, Logan couldn't help but feel slightly intimidated. It wasn't everyday you were glared down by a man with eyes the color of a poisonous snake. However, true to his nature, Logan glared right the hell back.

"I'll fetch Charles, shall I?" Hank started to back away as the glaring contest dragged on longer than was natural, both of the participants too stubborn to simply back down.

"No need, Hank," Xavier said over the electric swish of the doors opening.

"Good evening," Hank smiled amiably at Xavier.

Xavier smiled and greeted him in return as he rolled over to his side where the both watched the glaring contest for a few minutes more, hoping that either of them would notice the change in the room's occupants.

They didn't.

"If I might intervene," Xavier cleared his throat loudly.

Gambit roughly shouldered off Logan's hand before turning to Xavier with a cold look. "I want out."

"Of the medical wing?" Xavier clarified. "Of course, I wouldn't be one to hold you here while Hank has given you a moderately clean bill of health."

Gambit's expression became a bit more dubious. "Oh." He scrubbed at the back of neck. "Then… why are you here?"

"I have an offer for you, Remy." Xavier smiled kindly.

Logan was about to ask who the hell 'Remy' was before he remembered that Gumbo had an actual name, too other than Gambit, Gumbo, Prick, and Mr. LeBeau. Not that Logan gave a good god damn because he found his nicknames far more appropriate.

"Which would be?" Gambit raised an eyebrow like a cocky punk and it made Logan want to punch his face in. This was the sort of boy Rogue was going to associate herself with. Really? Really?

"I understand you don't exactly have the greatest reign of control over your mutation," Xavier started conversationally and the effect it had on the kid on the cot was immediate, his relaxed demeanor instantly tensing, his jaw locking, his eyes narrowing.

"I'm workin' on it." He said darkly.

"I realize this," Xavier held up his hands peacefully, backtracking quickly. "I'm merely offering you an extra resource to side in your efforts."

"Oh." The kid repeated, his brow furrowing. "What?"

Xavier smiled. "If you'd be so kind as to follow me," He maneuvered his wheelchair expertly towards the door.

"Un moment," Remy called after Xavier, running his eyes quickly over every surface in the medical wind before spying his sunglasses.

"Why do you wear those?" Logan asked, not because he actually cared at all in any way, but because it allowed him to slip in the quiet implication that wearing sunglasses indoors at all times made him look like an absolute dick.

"I-…" Remy looked down at the sunglasses in his hands. "T' hide my eyes." He scrunched up his brow, as if the explanation even confused him.

Logan snorted in a fashion that very clearly informed the kid that was some of the dumbest shit he'd ever heard.

"Yeah," Remy smirked a little to himself. "It is pretty stupid, ain't it?" And, with more than a little hesitance, he laid the sunglasses back down.

And he turned away.


"This is the Danger Room." Xavier introduced as he and Remy stood* in the center of a wide, stainless steel dome, cords and wires stringing along from one thick panel of metal to another, a wide expanse of clean, clear floor laid out in front of them.

"I saw," Remy nodded his head up to the tech booth. "The first time I was here." He inspected the walls with interest, his mind automatically going to the default setting of comprehending how to break in and out. "Why am I here?"

"I wanted to offer you the opportunity to access the Danger Room at any time other than allotted training periods if you were feeling under any sort of stress from your mutation." Xavier smiled warmly.

Remy looked around again at the big, empty room.

"Of course," Xavier cleared his throat. "I would teach you how to turn it on first."

Remy grinned at the older man. "Sounds like fun."

At that exact moment in time Bobby Drake found himself climbing up the front steps of the mansion, a bag of assorted chocolate filled pastries that he knew for fact that Rogue liked (because once upon a time he had been an awesome boyfriend) as just a present. Because he was still her boyfriend. He was allowed to just get her presents.

He whistled to himself jauntily as he rooted through his pocket with his free hand, searching for his keys to the front door.

He didn't notice the security camera perched on the doorframe above him focus intently on his being, but, then again, he'd never noticed the security camera before at all.

He slid the key into place and unlocked the door without hitch, still whistling to himself, thinking of where Rogue would be right this second.

He reached for the door handle.

The second his fingers came into full contact with the metal handle, the security systems activated and 10, 000 volts of electricity coursed through his body, forcing his muscles to go rigid, clenching in jaw, and sending his eyes rolling backing his head.

Bobby collapsed to the ground.

The security system deactivated.

The key still sat in its cradle.

The door was still unlocked.


*Remy was actually the only one standing.

Cripple jokes would be in poor taste all things considering, wouldn't they? Good news, though! I am in constant thumbs-up position! Sccccooooore.

(P.S. I bruised the bones in my wrist cage fighting…with a bear…)