A/N: Considering your amazing patience with me for taking so long to update, I have decided to include this bonus chapter. It has really very little to do with the plot, but I sat down to write Chapter 8 and this came out instead, and it was too fun not to post once I had the real Chapter 8 up. Enjoy!

This is dedicated to Tigerlilly 1234 because she's been begging for a certain element for quite some time now, and a healthy portion of it is served up in here.

Bonus Chapter:

How to fix Cabin Fever

There was one distinct advantage to living at Acolyte central, Rogue soon discovered, and that was this: no school. She had half expected Magneto to force her go, to what purpose she knew not, but as Monday had come and gone with no classes, she realized that it would somewhat defeat the purpose of a ransom if her friends were to see her five days out of seven. So while she did not quite relish living under the same roof with Pyro, Sabertooth, and Magneto, she was going to make the most of every moment she did not have to be in that infernal building.

She had caught on quickly to the routine there. Just as she had been warned, every morning began with a brutally long training session. At least she was used to such a workout this early in the morning, she reminded herself as she donned a pair of jeans, having just come out of the shower. And after all, there was no Wolverine to oversee the proceedings, and no Danger Room to complicate matters. No, it was your run-of-the-mill workout room, with weights and stationary bikes and all manner of exercise equipment. If they really wanted to spice things up, there was a large room that was eerily reminiscent of the school gymnasium that was equipped with robots for them to combat if they so chose, but mostly they practiced against each other.

The first time this had happened, she had been paired off against St. John, and had not been very happy about it. The fire-obsessed young man had thought to go easy on her, saying that she was just a girl and a little one at that. She had finally gotten tired of simply blocking his attempts to hit her and had kicked him in the stomach, flipped him, and pinned him to the ground in one fluid motion.

"Ah can kick the crap outta you without even thinkin' about usin' my powers, so Ah suggest that y'all start takin' me seriously or else you'll be in a world of hurt," she had

informed him. At his terrified yet enthusiastic nod, she stood from her comfortable seat in the middle of his back and retreated a few yards. "Now let's try this again, shall we? The right way this time."

After that, sparring was a much more challenging exercise than she had banked on, but as the days progressed she was surprised to notice her improvement, which had never been so fast while under the eye of Wolverine. Perhaps it was the variety of partners that helped, and perhaps it was the fact that about the only thing of interest to do around the base was utilize the exercise room; whatever the case, a day less than a week was enough to see her managing to hold her own against the intimidating (although not as bloodthirsty as she had feared) Sabertooth, even if it was a close thing, and she had never come close to winning a match against him.

At first she had wondered at the Acolytes' abilities if this was all the practice they got. When addressed with the question, Piotr had simply given a shrug of his big shoulders.

"Perhaps it is because we get so much field experience," he had suggested. "Your simulations probably are not the same as the real thing."

"Y'all just keep tellin' yourselves that," she had informed him, and left it at that, judging the subject not worth the trouble of pursuing.

Piotr had to be the only tolerable person in that place. He was reserved and polite, and although that wasn't quite her thing, she had to admit that in comparison with the people she usually lived with, it was an extremely pleasant change of pace. It made her wonder how exactly he had ended up on a team of bad guys; it seemed to her that he didn't quite seem the type that would be bent on the destruction of humanity, or even willingly encourage it. It was something that she pondered at great lengths, and as of yet had not come up with a suitable explanation. Who knew, though? There was never any telling with the quiet ones; it was entirely possible that he had a genocidal streak buried deep beneath those large bones of his.

Whatever the case was, he was at least someone she could go to when any of the other crazies crossed too far over the line of her tolerance. He took her flares of temper in stride, and strangely enough she could never be angry too long when she was in his presence. She never felt obliged to talk or keep up any pretenses around him; there were times when they would just both sit and read and feel perfectly comfortable. It disturbed her somewhat how at ease she felt when she was with him; she wasn't nearly half so familiar with most of the X-men, and he was the enemy! Even more frightening was that at times she felt the prickly exterior that she showed everyone else begin to slip, her first line of defense against the betrayal and hurt that she had been faced with so many times before. The fact that anyone could do this to her scared her, and she made doubly sure that she never revealed anything about herself that was too personal. But there was just something calming about his air, to the extent that sometimes she wondered if there wasn't more to his power than met the eye.

There was generally a lot of free time after training in which they could share company. On occasion any combination of the official Acolytes would be called out to work, although the honorary member rarely went on duty. She wondered if this was because she was supposed to get used to working with the others, because she had yet to gain Magneto's trust (she doubted that this was the case; it was a given that neither would completely trust the other no matter what happened), or because she just wasn't needed for most of their operations. Whatever the case, she often enjoyed the privacy and time alone that she had never received at the mansion, and this was greatly appreciated.

She checked her appearance in a mirror that was slightly blurry from the remnants of shower stream. Black gloves, check. Dark jeans, check. Yellow tank-top, check. Dark green zip-up sweatshirt, check. It creeped her out somewhat that Magneto had known what size of clothing to supply her with, and she didn't want to know how he had discovered that information. She shuddered slightly at the thought.

Sadly she did not have any make-up, but she was making do without. The thing that she was having the most difficulty with was the lack of dark clothing in the street clothes that she had been given; she had nearly broken out in a rash at the thought of wearing any of the numerous light pink shirts that were in her drawer. It was as though somehow she had been presented with Kitty's wardrobe instead of her own, and she had to wonder once more where on earth Magneto had gotten these clothes, and again she resolved that she didn't even want to know. The thought of the quasi-evil man selecting her underwear was enough to make her sick.

She banished that train of thought with a becoming scowl and finger-combed damp auburn-and-white hair. Satisfied that she was somewhat presentable, she stepped out into the hall where Pyro stood waiting to pounce.

"All yours, sugah," she told him sarcastically, and he nearly dove through the open door the moment she stepped out of the way. She smirked. Sharing a bathroom with four men (although that psychotic psychic guy rarely showed his face, and she doubted whether he was actually an Acolyte or just someone whose powers were commandeered every so often) was a bit trying, but nothing in comparison with what they had to deal with at the X-mansion.

Actually, considering all the perks of being with the Acolytes, she could easily see why they had been tempted to cross over to the Dark Side. Not that anything excused someone from targeting innocent people because of how they had been born. She could never forgive that, in mutants or in humans. Magneto had committed certain crimes that were deplorable, repulsive, and unpardonable in her eyes, but being evil certainly had its advantages.

One of these was not mealtime, though. There was no organization whatsoever to the kitchen, whether it came to the dishes (clean and dirty), who would cook what and when, or where the food was put. For the most part she made her own meals, which was exactly what she did as soon as she stepped into the room. Popping two pieces of bread into the toaster, she looked with disgust at the pile of dirty dishes, a few of which seemed to be beginning to mold. The smell was almost enough to make her nauseous, and she soon decided that she could not stand it anymore. The moment the next person stepped into that room, they would be on dish detail, whether they wanted it or not.

Rogue took a seat at the table and buttered her toast lazily. In her opinion, she had already done more than enough for this rag-tag group, and she wasn't lifting another finger until she had some assistance.

"Lord, Ah'm turnin' inta Jean," she muttered to her toast before taking a bite out of it. When she had been with the Brotherhood herself, she had barely given a darn, but in these conditions that were considerably better she had yet to be satisfied. She hadn't realized that she had changed that much.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the arrival of Sabertooth, who promptly grabbed a jug of milk and began to stalk away. For a moment Rogue seriously debated the wisdom of the vow she had made not ten minutes ago, but she was not one to be daunted by much of anyone. In any case, she had grown ever so slightly better acquainted with Victor Creed during the course of her stay, and felt that she had the right to demand that he help in the kitchen. She took a deep breath and paused for a moment to contemplate what in the world she was getting herself into, then plunged in.

"If y'all are plannin' on just takin' that an' leavin', y'all can think again," she informed him, her eyes raised defiantly. In fact, the feral man did not get angry with her; he seemed more surprised that someone would dare to question him than ready to bite her head off when he stopped in the threshold to the kitchen. He turned slowly to look at her, his expression somewhat taken aback.

"Ah know ya probably think cleanin' doesn't apply ta you, but frankly, someone needs ta do somethin' about these dishes, an' Ah've already done more than my fair share around this place. It's high time that you started helpin' out a little, especially considerin' that you're the one that makes half the mess in the first place. Ah've only been here a week and Ah've probably done more work than you have in all your time here. An' don't you give me any bull about it bein' women's work or somethin' equally barbaric, 'cause Ah don't buy that chauvinistic crud and it's no excuse ta live in a pigsty." Having completed her lecture and the sensation that she was turning into the much-loathed red-haired telepath, she braced herself for whatever retaliation Sabertooth would dish out.

None came. Rogue watched in astonishment as the man grunted, replaced the milk in the refrigerator, and turned towards the counter stacked with dirty dishes. Suddenly and inexplicably afraid of what might happen if she remained in the room, she grabbed her toast and slowly backed out, then dashing to her room the moment Victor was out of sight.

The Southern girl flopped herself on her bed, ready for another day of relaxation and doing…absolutely nothing. Just like she had for countless hours since she had arrived at Magneto's base. It had been a novelty, at first, to live like she had been over the course of the week. No school, no requirements other than that she show up at training sessions and that she complete simple missions every once in a while (although she had only been on two since that first). It had been pure bliss, and every teenaged girl's—heck, any boy's for that matter—dream.

After the completion of her first week at Magneto's base, however, she was growing quite impatient with this lifestyle. None of the others were under the same restrictions as she was; they were free to leave the facility at their pleasure, for the most part. There was only so long a girl could take being virtually grounded, whether or not she had to tolerate school or half a million annoying peers. And she intended to do something about it.

Piotr was reading more intensely than anyone she had ever met when she stopped to lean on the doorframe of his room.

"Alright, tin man, here's the idea," she began, waiting until he looked up from his novel to continue. "If Ah spend one more minute stuck in this cement block, Ah'm gonna go crazy. Ah'm bustin' outta here, and you're comin' with."

"He won't let you go," Colossus informed her, a hint of something (concern? anger? something else?) in his ice-blue eyes. "And when he catches you, he will be angry."

"D'you really think Ah've never snuck out before?" she wanted to know, giving him a look that was meant to let him know he was not very bright if he thought otherwise. "Ah have a plan. An' trust me, it's one that even Lord Buckethead himself can't spoil."

"I have told you: you are not to leave the premise," the aging man told her from behind a desk that reminded Rogue unpleasantly of that of her principal. "You have been provided with everything that you shall require. Your request to leave has been rejected."

"An' Ah told you, Ah have not been provided with everythin' Ah require," she insisted, glaring him down with her most ferocious Newbie-intimidating look. She could feel Piotr's eyes on her back, and she knew he was thinking to himself that she should have listened when he told her she would not be permitted to leave. That alone made her determined to succeed. "Ah need to go to the store. Asap."

"Alright then, Rogue, what is it that you need so desperately?" The look he gave her was infuriatingly accommodating, as if he were indulging a very small child.

"That's personal," she snapped, her arms crossed and her uncolored lips clenched in an angry scowl.

"Then I'm afraid that I cannot grant you permission to go," was the placid reply.

Rogue let out a sigh to match her facial expression, informing her temporary boss of exactly how exasperated she was with the whole situation. "Fine! Ah'll tell you, if it's so darned important that you know! Not that it's any of your business, but Ah need pads."

"Pads?" Magneto was obviously confused by this request, and Rogue might have laughed had it not been so embarrassing or crucial to her ruse that she keep the appearance of irritation—which by this point wasn't entirely faked.

"Yeah, you know, sanitary napkins? Or maybe you don't know, considerin' you've apparently never learned the facts of life." Though she was determined not to let the man see through her act, she felt the heat rising to her face and hoped it was construed as a result of her fury rather than a desire to sink into the earth. But she didn't need to go further into her explanation, because it seemed that something had finally clicked in Erik's mind. The sight of Lord Buckethead shocked, taken aback, and although he tried to hide it, embarrassed all at once was a sight that she had a feeling she would never forget.

"Of…of course, go," Magneto managed in an attempt to cover his flusterment with an official tone, and pushed some bills across the desk at her. "Take Colossus with you."

"Thanks," she replied with a hint of sarcasm in her voice, and turned to leave the office. She nearly laughed at Colossus's face as well, which in its wide-eyed shock was nearly as priceless as Magneto's had been. She couldn't help it; as soon as the door to Magneto's office was safely shut, she let loose.

The drug store was the logical first stop, considering that despite the fact that in order to keep Magneto in the dark about her ruse Rogue needed to purchase what she had said she needed to, and that although it had been a convenient excuse she hadn't been lying; feminine napkins were something that Erik Lensherr had not thought to provide her with, and she was going to need them sooner or later.

Piotr looked quite uncomfortable standing there in the midst of all the pink and pastel plastic. She offered to let him browse somewhere more…masculine…while she grabbed what she needed, despite the fact that it took her all of thirty seconds to find it, but he declined, saying that he had strict instructions to keep watch over her for the entirety of the time she was out in public. Rogue had wondered when he had received these instructions, but supposed that he had probably been debriefed far ahead of time about what to do should she ever be allowed access to the outside world. And she had to admit, the sight of big, muscly Colossus in that particular aisle was almost enough to reduce her to uncharacteristic giggles once more.

Of course, then she had to relish being somewhere other than Acolyte Central for as long as possible, so although she did not have much of an affinity for shopping, she had to walk up and down the rows of shelves for quite some time.

She was inspecting with some great disdain one of the new "My Little Ponies" when she heard a familiar voice talking at a speed that only one person she knew could accomplish. She glanced up at Piotr, who had apparently recognized it too, because he had gone rigid and was looking around him with such a stern urgency that he resembled Logan when he scented Sabertooth.

"You must not let her see you," he said, and grabbing her arm dragged her around to the end of the aisle where the shelves would hide them from the view of the front of the store. Rogue wrested her arm free and shot him a sour look.

"Ah know that," she hissed. "Ah am perfectly capable of escapin' notice without bein' dragged around by you. What Ah want to know is, how are we gonna get me outta here with Kitty in full view of the front door?"

"Very carefully," the Russian responded, apparently deep in thought. "Follow me." He crouched and began to make his way towards the opposite side of the store from that in which Shadowcat stood talking to Lance Alvers with great rapidity, making certain that his head did not peek over the tops of the shelves. Rogue followed in a like manner, not out of necessity but because it simply helped to contribute to the mood of stealth. She couldn't help but start humming the Mission: Impossible theme under her breath; the situation, although it was somewhat serious, was too amusing not to do so.

They had made their way to the end of the far aisle and were looking at the cash register that stood between them and the door when a thought suddenly occurred to the Southerner.

"Hey Piotr, just a quick question," she whispered, pulling her head back out of the open. He did the same and glanced at her with an inquiring look. "How the heck am Ah s'posed ta buy these"— she held up her selection from that first aisle they had stopped in—"if Ah can't let Kitty see me?"

The two of them looked blankly at each other for a few moments, both at a loss as to what to do.

"Ah suppose…" she began, "that you could buy them for me while Ah make a break for it."

Piotr was not entirely pleased with this idea, that much was obvious, but as he could not come up with any better suggestions, he finally agreed. This had to have been one of the most amusing days of her life, she reflected as she discreetly watched a bright red Colossus purchase feminine products through the window at the front of the store. From her vantage point, Kitty and her boyfriend were also visible, and the looks that they were giving the Acolyte were making it difficult for her not to start laughing again.

When Piotr finally emerged from the store, he face was still crimson. She gave him a wry smile as he thrust the bag at her without meeting her eyes.

"Ah owe ya one, Piotr. Ah think ya deserve some ice cream," she told him, and began walking in the direction of the nearest shop that would sell that particular commodity. "On me. Well, on Lord Buckethead, really, but what he don't know won't hurt 'im."

This statement elicited a chuckle as Piotr followed after her. On a backward glance she noticed that he was still red.