So...yeah. If you're still reading, you're a saint. This was ready a while ago, but my beta was busy XP.

Nevertheless, she is awesome, so kudos to berneynator, my beta.

I do not own X-Men or any of the attendant characters.

Enjoy!

BZZZT!

"Aaah!"

I shot up out of my bed, scrabbling at my jeans pocket.

BZZZT!

"X-men, to Hangar. X-men, to Hangar."

I pulled the walkie-talkie-type-thing that Logan had given me a few days ago out of my pocket and clicked the button on the side. "Aimee, checking in. On my way."

"Hurry."

I thumbed it off and lunged for the door. Stumbling out, I nearly ran headlong into Kassandra.

"Hey Ames, what's—"

"Can'ttalkgottagoseeyoulaterbye!"

I caught a flash of hurt, which morphed into a vicious anger. I grimaced. She was now the only member of our group not an X-man, and she was feeling the separation already. I would need to talk to her later.

I sprinted to Logan's office. He held the elevator door for me and I nearly ran into him. I pressed myself against the wall—forget an elevator built for three, it was an elevator built for Logan. And no one else.

Thankfully, the ride was short. We jogged towards the cases, where Storm and Beast were waiting, already dressed in their suits. Storm grimaced.

"Aimee, we don't have—"

Logan passed me, flung open the case marked JEAN, and tossed me the suit inside. "Be careful with it, kid."

I felt Storm's surprise and wheeled around. "Are you—"

She shrugged and smiled. "Go change, girl."

I headed for the locker room.

If there was a land-speed record for getting into a tight leather suit, I'm betting I broke it. I passed Kitty on my way out, and she fell into step with me. "You ready, girlfriend?"

I grinned. "I hope so, Kit."

Warren joined us—his pure white wings a stark contrast against the black-and-red of his suit—and we hurried into the hangar.

I followed the two into a sleek silver jet, barely keeping my teeth together. The X-men had obviously not stinted on anything.

"Jeesh."

Warren chuckled.

"You've seen it before, you were just passed out at the time."

I rolled my eyes. He guffawed as we strapped ourselves into our seats. Looking around, I saw Mr. Wagner crouched in a corner, holding what looked like a dark metal crucifix and moving his lips quickly. He wasn't wearing a suit—rather, he was wearing the dark trench coat I'd first met him in-but fear rolled off him.

I leaned over. "Are you all right?"

He looked up. "Yes. I just hate flying." He grinned weakly.

I smiled back. "It'll be over soon."

He closed his eyes.

As McCoy, the last of us, came barreling inside and threw himself into his seat, Storm threw the controls. The jet rose straight up—though it left my stomach firmly implanted on the ground. It then shot forward, shoving us back into our seats.

I looked over at Kurt again. His navy skin had taken on a distinctly greenish tinge. I asked timidly, "Isn't your mutation like flying? Why do you have such a problem with it?"

He returned through gritted teeth, "With my mutation, you are here one moment and there the next. There is no in-between. I still hate flying."

I smiled, amused against my will. I carefully shut down my link with him—his fear and motion sickness were making me nauseous.

Storm's voice crackled over the loudspeaker, and Kitty snickered as I jumped.

I glared at her, missing the beginning of Storm's speech. "…an unidentified band of hostile mutants hunting a potential mutant. We've got a pyro, a porter, a speedy, an invisible, what looks like a feral, and a couple thugs—probably increased strength."

I raised my eyebrows. What scares me is I actually understood all that.

The pyro and feral are their main offense. Bobby, you're on the defensive for the pyro. I can help with that. Logan, you're on the feral—obviously. Aimee, you're the only one able to track the invisible. Take Warren and Kitty with you. Kurt, neutralize the porter. Beast, you're with me grabbing the possible—making sure she's okay. Any questions?"

Silence.

"Alright then. Let's kick some mutant ass."

"LOGAN!"

I grinned at Logan's tension-breaker and leaned back in my seat, wriggling to find a comfortable way to sit in the tight leather suit.

Finally settling, I closed my eyes and cast my other sense out, re-familiarizing myself with the ins and outs of the team's auras. If I was to find someone running around invisible, I needed to be able to match auras to bodies and find the one that was seemingly unattached.

Starting at the front of the plane, I ran into Storm's swirling aura—a murky silver, with a steely glint. Her feelings were as taut as badly tuned guitar strings, but that was pretty normal for her; I didn't know how she avoided having a nervous breakdown on a regular basis. Her uptightness was only augmented by my presence, which stung a little. I hadn't fought yet, but surely I deserved some trust. Still, I couldn't blame her much—she was the team mother, with all the attendant worries.

Next to her—Logan. His mind was totally businesslike, expressly focused on keeping the jet perfectly on course. This was routine for him, but his feral half yearned for the fight to come. I could almost feel his wrists flexing, the smooth metal straining to slip from their sheaths beneath the skin. I took a little of that feeling, drawing it into myself, burning away the last of residual grogginess from my afternoon nap.

A little farther back, poor Kurt crouched in the corner, muttering prayers over his well-worn crucifix. His smoky gray aura was tinged with a sickly green, making me nauseous, but past that was a warmth that I hadn't expected from the teleporting mutant. His feelings for Storm, especially, were not something I'd expected, though perhaps I should have—I recalled our conversation when I'd first come to Xavier's. He fought because of a deep sense of justice, a feeling of obligation, but also as Storm's protector. I filed that away, wishing I could have forgotten it. I still wasn't happy about the tidbits that I got from this sort of reconnaissance—it felt unnecessarily intrusive.

Directly behind me, Bobby and Kitty were so close that their auras swirled together, but I knew them well enough to distinguish even in a crowd. Kitty's flickered like a light bulb about to go out—half hypnotic, half maddening. Kind of like her, I thought wryly. Bobby's, by contrast, was a cool, calm lake, sheathed in a skin of ice. The perfect counterpoint to Kitty's chaotic nature, he was trying to center himself—but ironically, he drew his calm from the tiny firework leaning on his shoulder. I rolled my eyes behind my eyelids and felt my heart melt a little. The pair of them were so perfect for each other, it was ridiculous.

Next to them—no one. My eyes flew open. "Where's Pete?"

A chuckle came over the intercom. "He's got a pulled tendon in his leg. The good doctor put him on the bench for this one."

I frowned. Colossus's stolid, steady character had always kept my nerves from getting too jumpy. He was rather taciturn, but a wonderful friend, and surprisingly good at pre-cal. He was a great teacher, too. I already missed his firm foundation.

Beast was on my right side. I'd never managed a good read on him, for some reason. I got a profound sadness at the need for this trip—the doctor was nothing if not a pacifist—but a firm determination to see it through. His brows were furrowed, almost as though he was counting.

Finally, I directed my focus at Warren. His aura was a pale, pale blue, but at the same time so bright it hurt my "eyes". I envied him his relaxation—this had become enough of a routine for him to be (almost) fun. He was ready to kick mutant ass, as Logan had put it. I opened my eyes, casting a surreptitious glance over at him. He tapped long fingers on the leather armrest, a solid thump-thump beat to go along with Kurt's muttered prayers in the otherwise silent plane. He glanced back over at me, pale blue eyes under short gold eyelashes, and his aura darkened slightly. I caught a flash of the same protectiveness I'd felt from Seth, that day that Marian had died, with a tinge of something else. Something that didn't feel quite platonic. I flushed, and the nubby gray carpet on the floor of the jet suddenly became very interesting. I felt him smile. Smug bastard.

WHAM!

I was thrown against my seat straps, the metal buckle digging into my stomach. I exchanged shocked looks with Warren.

The loudspeaker crackled to life. "Sorry, folks. Looks like the pyro's decided he doesn't want us here. It'll be a bit of a bumpy landing."

I rolled my eyes. Lovely. Another drunken pitch of the plane cut off the sarcastic comment on the tip of my tongue. The nose tipped forward alarmingly. I gaped out the window to my right, and my eyes widened.