"You're making this a lot more difficult than it needs to be, you know."

Fighting back a snarl, I struggled against the weight of Jean on my feet and cursed as my abdominal muscles spasmed before I could complete my sit-up.

"Mother-"

"Finish that and you're grounded," she chirped, taking one hand off my shoe and tucking a loose strand of hair back behind her ear. A little farther back, where the weight racks were, I could hear a distinct snort from Scott, who I just knew was laughing at me.

"I can't," I groaned. "Please, I just - I can't, Jean, it hurts. I'm sorry."

Her gentle smile dimmed as she rolled off and eased me up into a sitting position. I swiped angrily at the sweat trickling down my face, teeth clenched as the ache in my midsection increased. I'd only tried to do twenty sit-ups in a row, damn it, it's not like I was trying to bench press Logan.

"I hate this!" I snarled. Silver whipped out from my shoulders, opening lines up in the padded floors for stuffing to ooze out. Anger and self-pity wormed in my gut and I forced myself to my feet, yanking my arm back as Jean tried to reach out and steady me. I'm not an invalid, I'm just... weak.

Still so weak.

Despite having been almost two weeks after waking up after the - let's call it the incident, shall we - the incident, then. Considering that the first three days were basically working up my stamina so I could piss unattended without fear of falling and cracking my head open, I'd figured the leaps and bounds that followed would just keep coming.

Alas. Apparently not.

"I told you not to expect to keep that pace up," Jean said, her tone edging on warning. Dressed in a tank top and sweats, she didn't paint the picture of my physical therapist, but it was either her or Scott and I knew which one I'd rather keep me company while I was suffering.

"Doesn't mean I didn't expect it anyways," I snapped, staggering slowly towards the door. I was done for today, and I needed to go sit down for a few hours and regain some strength.

This whole rehabilitation thing? It sucks. Training your body to do the most basic of things, like not crap out on you when you're walking and talking and trying to fix problems? It's bullshit. Not to mention using my powers is basically a crapshoot, since every last scrap of control I had flew out the metaphorical window when I was getting all my life-force sucked straight out of me.

Rogue, silent and watchful as one can be when doing bicep curls, set her dumbbells down and padded after me. Without speaking we took the elevator up a few floors and crash-landed at the kitchen island. As I put my head down, breathing deeply, she fished some glasses from the cupboards and poured us some juice.

"You can't push yourself so hard, Loki," she finally said, staring into her drink like it contained the answers to the universe.

I snorted. "Not you too," I groaned. "Look. I've bounced back from worse than this, alright? I told you about the time I got my arm cut off, yes? This is nothing." Well, at least back then I'd still had three other perfectly-functioning limbs. Here, everything's busted from head to toe.

"Stop!"

The shout made me flinch, and the glass in my hand went tumbling to the tiled floor. The crash from that shattering startled me even worse, and I gave a full-body jerk that nearly tore me out of my seat. My powers, the best indicator of my abilities at the present, spat and spun and fizzled, as they usually did when I was feeling strongly but unable to exert the will-power to corral them.

"You saved my life," Rogue practically yelled, hands balled into fists and tears making her eyes shine. "You did an amazing thing! If I'da been up there, alone..." She shuddered, ducking her head down. "You did an amazing thing," she repeated. "Please don't feel like you're not doing well now. Please."

Silent and stunned, mouth agape, I could only grab her gloved hand and squeeze in wordless agreement.


"Hey."

Taking an extra vindictive second to re-shelve my book with especial force, I spun around on the balls of my feet, leaning back against the bookshelf.

Blue eyes narrow, Bobby Drake stood in front of me, his arms crossed over his chest. Behind him was John, sulking slightly, clicking the lighter open and shut in his thoughtless sort of way.

"Something I can help you with?" I sneered.

Okay, I know objectively that these aren't the same people that I knew, but Bobby has so far displayed all of the arrogance of the barely-teenager that I was acquainted with and none of the common sense someone of his age ought to have. So I didn't feel bad for rolling my eyes at his macho attempt to corner and talk with me.

"I want to know what's up between you and Rogue," he said flatly.

"And why is that any of your business at all?" I snapped. "You're not her minder, Drake."

"Yeah, well, after Magneto-"

"That was more than a month ago, Drake. Stop pussy-footing around and tell me what you want."

John closed the lighter with a harsh hand motion and sighed. "Bobby-"

"Don't," Drake snapped, glaring over his shoulder. Then he seemed to soften as he considered me. "I get that you don't like me, for whatever reason," he started, "but I really like her, and I don't know if you guys are still trying to keep things quiet, but-"

My eyebrows had climbed steadily higher through his entire little speech until I couldn't take it any more and burst out laughing.

"Oh god, you really thought-? Shit, Drake. No. Rogue is like my kid sister or something. Don't be disgusting."

Still laughing, I clapped him on the shoulder and strode out of the library. This would keep me amused for days, I swear, and everyone noticed and commented on my somewhat cheerier mood as I wandered around the mansion.


"Had any luck?" I asked curiously, watching with trepidation as Xavier shuffled papers around on his desk. I slumped down farther in my chair, blowing my bangs out of my face. I considered my fingernails; as I'd suspected, they'd started growing and sharpening into claws, which was making delicate things like using a pencil and typing on a laptop a little difficult for my tastes.

"What are you referring to?" Xavier said, still rooting around for something.

I rolled my eyes while he wasn't looking, mostly because it made me feel better. "Oh, well. Let me enumerate the ways." I flipped up a finger for every point. "The anti-MRA advocacy campaign. Some of the mutants I told you about, the ones unaccounted for. Why Logan hasn't turned up yet. The claws?"

"Ah," he acknowledged. "Well. In reverse order, with as much information as I have..." He looked at me for the first time, a slight smile on his lips. Sometimes he looked so darn peaceful that I just wanted to smack him.

"It's not unheard of for mutants under stress to develop secondary mutations." He nodded to the pointy and decidedly sharp implements growing on the backs of my fingers, skillfully ignoring my wince. "I did wonder why you healed so quickly," he murmured. "Given your propensity for injury, additional defenses and a minor healing factor seem to be the culprits."

Which did explain why I was back to (relative) normal after only seven weeks of PT, bed rest, and a shit ton of doing nothing.

My expression soured as I tucked my hands under my armpits and tried to pretend I wasn't expecting that.

"As for Logan," Xavier continued on blithely, "he phones weekly to speak with Rogue, you know this. Why not ask her?"

"They're her business," I muttered. I shot a poisonous look at one of the many bookshelves in Xavier's office just so I wouldn't have to watch Xavier's face. "Besides, she's too busy hanging out with that Drake kid nowadays."

"Young love," Xavier said wisely. "Very well. Logan is in Canada. He believes there may be some clues there that may provide insight into how he lost his memories. Rogue tells me that he hasn't found what he is searching for and thus will not be returning for a few more weeks, minimum."

Not that I cared why he wasn't here, but watching Rogue's face light up and her clutch on those dog tags in the days leading up to the phone call finally ease on hearing the ring made me wonder why she didn't just tag along. She probably would have enjoyed it more than hanging here with me.

Us. Jealousy reared its ugly head as I forced myself to recall the goo-goo eyes she and Drake gave each other all the freaking time.

Whatever. I tucked my hands in my pockets, mindful not to tear the lining, and rested my head against the back of the chair.

"We have been in contact with a few of the mutants we spoke about." Xavier made a slight noise of triumph, and the shuffling paper noises ceased. Instead, the clicking of keys took its place. Hopefully improving the shitty security here, I thought, since the fact that they couldn't protect my information was what led Magneto to me in the first place. "None of them are interested in relocating, but they have our information and are free to change their minds as they wish."

Damn. I'd hoped to see a few more familiar-but-not faces around here. Like Kurt, for one. I missed his antics, and he would certainly get people to stop staring at me.

"Which leaves the MRA and our efforts to discourage it." Xavier would never do something as plebian as rub his temples, but I wasn't so restrained; I growled, teeth bared. "Mystique continues to masquerade as Senator Kelly-" and didn't that sting, the reminder that she'd survived and was right back to her old games "-but Congress is still in a deadlock. Were there more anti-mutant sentiments, I suspect it would tip in an unfavorable direction, but all has been rather calm."

And thank no one for that. Magneto was in prison but Sabertooth had organized a string of assaults and robberies on some of the bigger names in small towns. Mystique was fanning flames in Congress whenever possible. No matter where or how hard you looked, you'd always find mention of a mutant being blamed or caught for this or that on any news channel or in any paper.

I clicked my tongue against my teeth, thinking. After a few moments, I decided it wasn't a problem to be solved in a single day and mentally shrugged.

"Thanks, Professor," I said softly, standing and taking my leave.


As the elevator slowly descended, gears grinding, I hated on what we were doing.

Not only was it borderline counterproductive, it was just plain stupid. And if Xavier was anything, in my opinion, stupid wasn't it.

"Why'd they go with white?" I grumbled, shifting uncomfortably. In front of me, Xavier said nothing, did nothing, but the security guard lounging in the corner hadn't changed his expression from the angry glare he'd had when he greeted us at the door. Of course, he had to hate us - mutants - given his job, I suppose.

They wouldn't really let a soft-hearted mutie lover guard the most dangerous mutant terrorist alive and recently active, now would they?

The elevator crunched to a halt and spat us out onto the lowest level. We were subjected to three metal detection tests of varying intensity, a manual wand search, and I had to change clothes into their pre-approved visitor's selection. Xavier had special dispensation because he's a cripple, I guessed, and came wearing a woolen sweater and velcro pants. He'd even splurged on a plastic chair.

All for the sake of Magneto.

Ears pinned back, I felt my face settle into a snarl as we watched the plastic connecting tube unfold. Every echo of my footfall was a reminder of where I was, what I'd suffered, what I still had nightmares about to this day. And I'd warned him, but everyone is arrogant enough to think that they're the exception and not the rule.

And look where it landed him, huh. Prison.

Silver flared around my knuckles, but I quenched them with a twist of will. Once my body had recovered, I set about to practicing control with a vengeance. It wasn't perfect, given that the sparks were still liable to pop up when I was feeling strongly, but I was much more effective in using them than I had been.

I could defend myself, now. And given half a chance, I'd defend the shit out of both of us.

Just as long as it meant making him hurt.

"Ah, old friend," that faux-friendly voice called out. "I see you've brought a guest. Thank you for listening to my request, Charles."

"I did not order him to come," Xavier corrected, rolling up to the chess board as I settled back against the wall. "He came of his own will."

Sort of. Jean had heavily suggested I come see how far Magneto had fallen from his attempt. She seemed to think it would help the nightmares and residual guilt over condemning so many to death. But I dreamed about pain, not Magneto, and I could have said no, so the guilt was mine to keep.

I guess I couldn't resist seeing him again, though. To see if he realized his situation, and the mess he'd caused.

Xavier and Magneto sat in contemplative silence, touching a plastic pawn forward or moving a knight across. This was a ritual they'd shared for many years, I knew, before, during, and after their friendship.

"How are you recovering from the ordeal, Loki?" Magneto asked politely, shattering my accepting mood. I started, violently, at the sudden sound; sparks flared and died along my shoulders. I snuffed them out, considering him coldly.

"I've healed," I bit out.

"And Miss Rogue?"

"Better than you'd hoped," I snarled, just barely restraining myself from taking an angry step forward. My hands tightened into fists, the new claws digging into the skin of my palm, and I had to ease up before I broke the skin.

Oh, I hated him. He had no regret for the pain we suffered, the lives tainted and ended by his workings. And here he was, lounging, practically, with three square meals a day and a bed and books and Xavier and chess.

"Loki," Xavier warned. "Remember your deal."

I hissed at him, retreating to a more defensible corner of Magneto's plastic cell.

Xavier had extorted that out of me and he knew it. Getting my college degree wasn't worth losing my temper here, not with the memories school at the Institute would bring back.

"Such fire," Magneto said, smiling. Xavier dipped his chin, acknowledging the comment, but choosing not to reply.

I busied myself with leafing through the books on his desk. Most of them were history books, a subject I only had a passing interest in, and at least one had something to do with chess. Figures. If he'd had something I could distract myself with, my next mutation would be growing wings and flying to Mars.

The air suddenly grew charged with tension. Even with my back turned, I could feel the oppressive weight bear down, and I stalked back over to the Professor, coming to a glaring halt behind his chair. The chess game lay untouched between the two.

"It will not get better, Charles," Magneto said, each word falling like a stone into the gulf of silence that stretched between them.

"Erik-"

"No shit," I snapped, cutting Xavier's reply off. "With stupid plans to turn the world's leaders into mutants that winds up killing a hundred people, sending your lackeys out to stir up trouble, and planting Mystique in Congress to egg on the new MRA? Did you expect anything different?" I lashed out, a scythe of silver bleeding along the trail my hand took. It sang through the air, parting plastic like butter, and sent the chess pieces tumbling to the ground.

Ah, shit.

The anger still boiled, but I smoothed it back down, baring my teeth at Magneto, who simply continued smiling as if everything in the world was just dandy. I briefly entertained the thought of leaping across the new gap and clawing his face off.

"Only time will tell," Xavier insisted. He glanced back over his shoulder at me, one brow raised. "I think it is best if we left, now. Until next time, Erik."

Magneto's gaze fell on me like a hammer. In his lap, his hands twitched.

I jerked my hands up and away, as if to remove them from his sphere of influence, but a second later I recalled that this body had no metal implanted for him to control and that it was only weakness that made me flinch so. I scowled at him and trailed behind Xavier as we made for the tube path.

"Do remember, Charles, that not everyone thinks the same."

His parting words seemed to physically blow past me as the door shut behind us.

We stopped only to grab my clothes, otherwise making straight for the elevator. As we stood/sat in stony, awkward quiet, I muttered, "I'm sorry. He just - you know."

"I do know," Xavier said, voice quiet but strong. "It was wrong of me to expect you to control yourself in his presence. You were not right in acting on your impulses, but I should not have brought you to see him so soon."

Well, three months isn't what I would've called soon, but he was right. It kind of was too soon. It would always be too soon.

"Does this mean I don't have to go back to school?" I asked hopefully.

"I never said that..."

Under my breath, I began to curse.


A/N: Connecting chapter. X2 plot shall begin soon. *insert evil cackle here*