I do not own the X-Men franchise.

One chapter left, guys. My plan is for it to be a collection of moments between Jamie and the members of his household (in a similar manner to this chapter and the previous one). So if you have a request of what you would like to see, let me know and I'll see what I can do.

Full House

If anyone thought that there would be no more recruitments after the Brotherhood, they were soon proved wrong as time pressed on. Jubilee and Rahne returned, and not long after them came Evan (who was more than a little surprised to see the Brotherhood sharing his living spaces, but he soon got over it). Jamie had a bit of explaining to do when the teen discovered half his comic collection missing, but Evan found he couldn't stay peeved when the boy nearly tackled him in a hug.

Then the others came, starting with the Acolytes and ending with Magneto, all of them reformed (or as reformed as they could be, anyway). The mansion was suddenly filled with people, thirty-one residents charging down corridors, inhaling food, shouting, bickering and training, whether to be an X-Man or merely to better understand their powers as a whole.

When Charles had ordered a new wing built onto the mansion, he hadn't quite expected to get so many mutants so quickly, and even the new wing didn't hold enough rooms to support everyone. So boxes of possessions were stacked in the hallway, people were shuffled between bedrooms, and there were arguments as to who had to room with who (Scott and Jean managed to keep a hold on their own rooms, much to some people's ire).

As permanent living situations were figured out, Roberto, Ray and Jamie gave up their room to the ex-Acolytes, at least for the time being. Ray and Roberto managed to find some spare beds in other rooms, but Jamie did not have such luck. It was a full house, and unless he wanted to sleep on a cot in the middle of someone's floor, the other option was…the couch.

So there the boy lay, blanket pulled over his head and shifting to try and get comfortable in the narrow space. Funny how there's no sympathy for the youngest when they want it, he thought with a pout.

He didn't really mind sleeping on the couch, but he was slightly miffed that no one had offered to switch with him. Bobby had actually laughed, though it hastily turned into a sudden coughing fit when Ororo gave him a pointed glare. Charles assured Jamie it would only be for a few days, until everything was arranged properly.

Finally settling in a comfortable spot, Jamie closed his eyes and waited for sleep to descend upon him. Though he was annoyed that he was still the youngest even after the influx of new residents, he was curious to get to know the others. He hadn't met most of them before, only glimpsing some during the Apocalypse Incident.

Well, they do say the more the merrier. Maybe with this many people in the house I can get away with staying up later…

Alex Summers, Jamie soon realized, was very much the opposite of his older brother. He was laid-back, messy and nowhere near as serious. The fight with Apocalypse convinced him to join the Institute, much to Scott's joy. Though he was disappointed with the lack of surf and abundance of rules, his easy social skills let him fit in easily.

One morning, Jamie discovered the blonde on the top of the glossy banister, his legs dangling above the steps. "What are you doing?" he asked in bemusement.

Two hands gripping the banister to keep his balance, Alex turned to give the brunette a smile. "Hey, dude. I'm just heading down to the kitchen. I'm starved."

"We're not really supposed to slide down the railing," cautioned Jamie. "Not after Roberto fell off and sprained his ankle."

"Do you see anyone around to catch me?" asked Alex mischievously.

"Well…I guess not," he replied, for he certainly would not snitch.

"Then I'm not breaking any rules if no one knows."

"I don't think it works like that."

Alex gave a dismissive wave of his hand. "Aw, you've been spending too much time with Scott. He doesn't know that some rules can be bent. Sliding down the banister saves time, and it is pretty fun. Give it a try."

"I don't know how."

"Just sit like this, don't lean backwards or forwards too much, and enjoy the ride!"

With that said, Alex pushed himself down the banister, sliding smoothly along the wood. Jamie rushed over and craned his head to peer down at the first-floor landing, where the blonde landed neatly on his feet.

"Come on!" he called with a grin. "Your turn!"

Well…maybe just once.

Carefully swinging his leg over the railing, Jamie wobbled for a moment before catching his balance. Peering at the curved railing for a moment, he took a breath and began his descent. His hands scraped along the wood as he whizzed downwards, a sharp burst of wind blowing his hair back.

He was rapidly approaching the end of the banister, and he prepared himself to land. But he gained too much momentum and sailed off, slamming into an unprepared Alex and sending them both crashing to the floor.

"Oof!" grunted Jamie, slowly rolling off of Alex's chest and to the floor. The three copies that spurned crowded around him with smirks on their faces.

"Smooth move," snickered Copy One.

"Shut up," muttered Jamie, flushing bright red. "I don't need to be made fun by myself."

He phased his copies out and sat up, rubbing his bruised side. Alex was still laying on the floor, dazed from the contact. "Dude, you need to practice some more."

"I think once is good enough for me." Jamie got to his feet and extended a hand. "Sorry for crashing into you."

"No problem." Alex accepted Jamie's hand and stood up. "I've had worse wipe-outs."

"What are you two up to?"

The two turned to see Scott entering the foyer, eyebrow raised in a curious manner. Exchanging a quick glance, they smiled innocently and said, in true little brother fashion, "Nothing!"

A hotdog, dressed in ketchup and mustard, nestled in a fresh bun, was only missing one more condiment before it could be consumed. Though Jamie could forgo it, he refused to give up the battle—he would not let the relish jar win again.

Gritting his teeth together, the boy braced his back against the counter as he strained his arm, but the red lid was not giving an inch. Red with exertion, he let his arm fall to his side, wiggling his fingers to work out the ache.

"Alright, you've left me with no choice," he growled. He spawned a copy and ordered, "Pull as hard as you can."

So as Jamie gripped the jar, Copy yanked on the lid, twisting and pulling with all the strength he had. After five minutes with no progress, Copy collapsed to the floor, panting and shaking out his hands. "I think this is a sign. You're not meant to have relish today."

"That's just stupid." Jamie moodily set the jar on the countertop. "Thanks for trying."

Copy gave a salute before disappearing. Resting his chin against the hard surface, the twelve-year-old surveyed his lunch, debating if he should admit defeat. Just as he was about to give up and eat his relish-free hotdog, Piotr entered the kitchen.

The Russian teen noticed Jamie was staring at his food rather than eating it, and he asked, "Are you not feeling vell?"

"No, I'm fine. It's just my hotdog isn't complete without relish, and the dumb jar hates me."

The glare he directed towards the cause of his current vexation was supposed to be angry, but it came out more as an adorable pout. Piotr smiled in amusement and picked up the relish. With one twist of his wrist, the lid popped off.

"Here you go."

Blue eyes wide with awe, Jamie took the jar into his hands. "You're awesome," he breathed.

"It vas nothing."

As Jamie spooned relish onto his rapidly-cooling lunch, Piotr went over to the fridge and took out a bottle of water. "Vould you like one?" he asked.

"Please!"

He removed a second bottle and tossed it to Jamie, who caught it. He opened his beverage and took a drink as he left the kitchen. He had taken five steps into the hall when the boy suddenly cried,

"Pete! My water bottle also hates me! Help meeee!"

Hugging the chess set close to his chest, Jamie walked down the corridor, socked feet sliding on the hard floor. He paused outside the study and peeked around the doorframe, blue eyes immediately spotting the lone figure in the room.

He, along with most others in the mansion, did not know much about Magneto, only that his real name was Erik Lensherr. He also knew that there was a long history between him and Professor Xavier, though neither had ever explained it. The man had arrived about a week ago, and Charles had announced this to his students and instructors ahead of time so no one would be caught off-guard.

The reactions had been…powerful, to say the least. Logan had no trouble voicing his disapproval, though Ororo and Hank were willing to give Charles the benefit of doubt. No one was particularly pleased about this planned meeting, and most were upset. But Charles had plenty of skills, and one of them was the art of persuasion. The protests and shouts eventually quieted, and reluctant grumbles of consent followed, because the professor tended to know what was best, after all.

Wanda and Pietro were there to greet their father when he arrived, and Erik was certainly a sorry sight. He was bedraggled, with bags under his eyes and pale skin. Whatever he had been up to after the Apocalypse Incident, it had taken its toll. With mixed expressions of concern for their father's wellbeing and hope for reconnection, the twins took him to Charles' office.

They spoke for a long time, and at the end Charles directed Wanda and Pietro to take Erik to a room. He would be added to their roster as an instructor, though not right away. The amount of bad history between him and the residents of the mansion could not be ignored, and the transition would need to be handled carefully.

He'd been at the Institute for a week, and much like the Brotherhood did when they first arrived, spent most of his time alone. He ate his meals in his room, spent time with his children and Charles, and kept to himself.

Jamie had witnessed Erik playing chess with Charles on multiple occasions, and it was this game that he hoped to use in order to coax the man into interacting with him. Taking a quick breath, he ventured into the study, halting when Erik turned to look at him.

"Hi," he greeted softly, nervously tracing the edge of the wooden box that held the chess set. "Um…I hope I'm not disturbing you."

"Just my thoughts, and I could do with an interruption from my own mind." Erik shifted in the chintz armchair, so he was fully facing the boy. Though he still did not have a solid grasp on the names of the junior mutants, he did know the one standing before him was the youngest. "What brings you to seek me out, James?"

"I was wondering if you wanted to play chess with me."

"Did Charles put you up to this?" asked Erik suspiciously.

"No. I came of my own volition." Jamie's face lit up with pride. "Yes! I remembered the word this time."

There was something extremely innocent and charming about the twelve-year-old, and Erik could not find it in him to refuse. He swept out a hand to gesture towards the smooth glass coffee table. "I'm always interested to face a new opponent."

Beaming, Jamie settled into the opposite chair and opened up the box, removing a sleek chess board and the well-crafted pieces. "Professor taught me how to play, but I'm not very good," he informed as he set up the game.

"Becoming skilled in strategic games such as this requires practice. It took me a long time before I was able to win."

With Erik playing as the black pieces and Jamie as the white, the game set in motion. Jamie stared intently at the board, trying to plan a few moves ahead, though with each turn his mind always changed. "It is not common for mutant powers to activate at twelve," spoke Erik, moving his bishop along the squares. "You are able to create copies of yourself, correct?"

"Uh-huh," confirmed Jamie, eyes narrowing in concentration as he looked for a decent spot to place his knight. "But Professor said my powers were developing when I was ten, and they activated after my eleventh birthday."

Erik's eyebrow raised in astonishment. "That must have been quite the shock, to you and your parents."

"Yeah." Jamie traced an invisible design in the glass, eyes dulling with sadness. "They were sort of okay with it at first. But after the incident with the Sentinels, when mutants were exposed, my parents tried to force me home. I refused, and my dad said I was choosing Professor over them, and they stormed off. I haven't talked to them in months…"

"I'm sorry," said Erik softly, feeling a familiar flare of anger and disdain towards the ignorant humans of the world.

"It's okay." Jamie tried to dispel his somber mood and offered small smile.

Regarding the boy, Erik mused, "You know, I spent a great deal of my life, trying to lead mutants to become the supreme race of the world. I've seen too many incidents of violence against those others deem to be different, unworthy of living. I wanted to seek my revenge, turn the tables."

He paused for a moment, wondering if perhaps this was something he should tell a young child. But Jamie was listening with rapt attention, and he could see the intelligence sparkling in his blue gaze. His own curiosity pushed him forwards, and he continued.

"You too have experienced rejection, by people very important to you. Yet you chose to continue supporting Charles' ideals, his beliefs that mutants and non-mutants can work together. You train to protect the ones that ridicule and isolate you. Why?"

"Well," said Jamie slowly, "I think my parents don't really understand what is I can do, and what that means. People fear what they don't know, what they don't understand. I think, in order for others to accept us, they need to learn about mutants. I want to help teach them, and I can do that by showing them that just as there are good and bad people, there are good and bad mutants. Not everyone can get along, but we can try. If we say one race is better than the other, than all we'll do is fight, and that's just going to make things worse. What good does it to hate?"

Erik stared at the brunette for a long moment, idly making his move while he contemplated what had been said. "Perhaps," he said at last, "Charles was right after all. If you can be so enlightened so young, and I so bitter, then his teachings are worth considering."

Jamie didn't quite get what the man was saying, but he nodded regardless. "Uh-huh."

"You are quite wise for you age."

"Not really," he replied honestly. "I got a bad grade on my science test yesterday."

Erik could not help but smile. "Wisdom is much more than scores on exams."

"Hmm…I don't think Mr. McCoy agrees."

"Checkmate, by the way."

Jamie stared at the board in surprise, realizing that he indeed had lost. "Aw, darn." He glanced at the clock and discovered it was dinnertime. "Do you want to go to supper?" he asked shyly. "I think Pietro and Wanda would be happy to have you eat with them."

"I suppose I have no reason to decline."

Erik stood up from his chair and followed the twelve-year-old out of the study. After a moment of hesitation, he reached down and set a hand gently on his shoulder.

"Thank you, James."

Math was easily Jamie's least favourite subject, and it was the one where he needed to get the most help with his homework. He stared blankly at the questions in his textbook, pencil tapping rhythmically against lined paper. After a moment he gave up, dropping his head down to the desk with a groan of frustration.

This was the sight Warren came across as he went to pass by the study. Pausing, the newest instructor to the Institute hovered just outside the entryway, eyeing Jamie's defeated posture with sympathy. "How's it going?"

"Terrible," he grumbled, forehead still pressed firmly to the wooden surface. "I hate math."

"Would you like some help?"

"Only if you have a lot of time to spare," he sighed, wearily lifting his eyes so they no longer had a close-up view of the woodgrain. "It takes me forever to understand this stuff."

"There's nothing wrong with that," assured Warren, venturing into the study and dragging a dark wooden chair over beside the boy. "So, what are you working on?"

"Positives and negatives," answered Jamie. "Apparently, these are basic questions, and we're not supposed to use our calculators."

"Then let's start with the first one, and work our way through."

Warren walked Jamie through each equation, explaining the rules of adding, subtracting, dividing and multiplying negative and positive integers. By the end of his homework, Jamie had a better grasp of the concept, but was no less annoyed by what he considered to be useless work.

"When am I ever gonna need to do this outside of school?" he complained.

"Well, you may need to work with such numbers in your future career."

"No way," declared Jamie. "I'm gonna be a comic book writer. You don't need math for that. So really, I don't have a reason to do my math homework."

"Nice try," said Warren in amusement, reaching out to ruffle the boy's hair. "I know it's not your favourite subject, but you never know. One day, these lessons might become relevant."

"Did it become relevant for you?"

"I work in the business field, so yes, quite a bit of the math I learned in school was very relevant."

"Oh. Right." Jamie flushed, having forgotten what Warren did before he came to the Institute. He used to be a high-ranking employee in his family's empire, which was apparently a multi-million dollar business. Warren didn't speak much of his family, and everyone knew better than to press. "Well. I don't think that counts. You like math."

Warren laughed at the way Jamie's nose crinkled when he uttered the statement. "Yes, I do. As such, I'll be glad to help you with your math, whenever you need it."

"I'm definitely gonna need it." Jamie closed his math textbook and said sincerely, "Thanks, Mr. Worthington."

"I've told you guys, call me Warren," the man replied in slight exasperation. "Mr. Worthington is my father."

"Whoops, forgot. Thanks, Warren."

"Oi, Jamie! Where are you? It's time for bed, Sport!"

Blue eyes widening at Scott's approaching voice, Jamie hastily gathered the rest of his school supplies and whispered, "You never saw me!" before diving behind the couch, out of sight of anyone who happened to pass by.

Amused, Warren placed his chair back where he had originally found it just as Scott appeared in the entryway. His brow was crinkled in exasperation, and the blonde man figured this wasn't the first time the twelve-year-old tried to push back his curfew.

"Hey, Warren, do you know what Jamie's doing?"

"He just finished his homework," he answered vaguely.

"Geez, that kid…"

Scott went in the direction of the library, and once he was gone Jamie rose to his feet, a wide smile on his lips.

"You seriously are an angel."

Remy, Jamie noticed, seemed to be very interested in Rogue. Ever since he arrived at the Institute, he spent most of his time with the Southern girl. They went for walks in the courtyard, played videogames and went to the movies. They sometimes held hands, and Logan would pointedly step between them if they were standing too close together.

This behaviour confused Jamie for a bit, for Rogue wasn't a touchy-feely person and she certainly had never let anyone hold her hand before. When he made such a remark to Kitty, she got a secretive smile on her face and replied that they were dating.

Jamie had little interest in girls, save for a brief crush on Kitty, and the concept of dating intrigued him. He knew Scott and Jean were boyfriend and girlfriend, and that Kurt was dating a girl from his school. Rogue dating was a bit of a surprise, and he wondered if it was the truth. Kitty was known to be a gossip queen, and sometimes you had to take her facts with a grain of salt.

So when he discovered Remy lounging next to the pool early one morning, he decided it was the perfect time to get the answers he was seeking. Jamie shoved open the sliding glass door and into the warm morning air, padding across the stones in his bare feet.

"What are you doing up so early?" he asked, pausing next to the dark green lounge chair.

"Ah could ask you the same question," drawled Remy, eyes closed and arms tucked behind his head.

"I couldn't sleep."

"Me either, so now Ah'm taking it easy. Dat satisfy you, Nosy?"

"I am not nosy," protested Jamie automatically. After a second of thought he amended, "Maybe a little nosy. I came out here because I want to ask you a question."

Curiosity piqued, Remy lazily opened one eye to peer at the twelve-year-old. "Fire away, mon amie."

"Is Rogue your girlfriend?"

Whatever Remy had been expecting, this had not been it. He sat up straight, reddish-brown eyes staring at the boy in astonishment. "Where, pray tell, did you get dat from?"

"That's what Kitty said," said Jamie innocently, rocking back on his heels.

"Girl's got a big mouth," grumbled Remy, stretching out his arms. "No, she's not my girlfriend."

"Are you sure?" he asked dubiously.

"Tch. Ah think Ah would know." The Cajun glanced at Jamie with a slight smirk. "Why? Would you have a problem if we were dating?"

"No. But if you weren't treating her nice, then I'd have to get mean," the boy said seriously, crossing his arms and trying to look intimidating. The effect was immediately lost when Remy jabbed his foot into his side, causing him to stumble backwards with a grunt.

"Guess it's a good thing we don't have a problem then," said Remy in amusement. "Ah'd hate to have to kick your butt."

"I didn't say I'd fight you," muttered Jamie with a slight pout. "I just said I'd get mean."

"Well, Ah guess Ah don't have to worry about you stealing my cookies or whatever, because Rogue is not my girlfriend." He then added in a teasing manner, "Ah wouldn't get my hopes up, mon amie. Ah don't think you're her type."

Face turning red from embarrassment, Jamie glared at the ex-Acolyte. "I don't like her like that! Besides, I don't know what you're talking about. I don't think you're her type either."

Eyebrow quirked, Remy asked, "What makes you say dat?"

"She doesn't date ugly people."

Five minutes later, when Rogue was crafting a perfect cup of coffee in the kitchen, with Kitty waiting for her breakfast pastry to finish heating in the toaster, they both saw a peculiar sight through the stationary window.

Jamie, clad in his red pajamas, was racing across the lawn in bare feet. A short distance behind him was Remy, dressed in jeans and a black T-shirt, pursuing the fleeing boy. Both were shouting, but neither girl could make out what was being said.

"Aw, they're playing tag! Your boyfriend isn't so bad, Rogue," cooed Kitty.

"Uh, Ah don't think they're playing tag," the pale girl drawled. Her lips quirked upwards when Logan appeared on the lawn in his white undershirt and plaid pajama bottoms. The man hollered something, but the sprinting pair did not heed whatever he said.

Remy caught Jamie around the middle, hoisted the squirming boy over his shoulder, and strode off in the direction of the pool. Logan stared after them for a moment, torn on going back to bed or following to ensure no serious fighting would occur. After a moment of thought, Logan stormed after the duo, displeasure written clearly across his face.

"What do you think that was about?" asked Kitty in bemusement.

"Don't know, but Ah bet we'll find out sooner or later." Rogue glanced over at her roommate and added, "By the way, ya'll need to stop callin' Remy my boyfriend. Ah think Logan's gettin' ready to skin him or somethin'."

Rummaging through the cupboards, Jamie grew increasingly frustrated when he could not find his microwavable macaroni and cheese. Huffing out a breath, he straightened up and set his hands on his hips. "Why does everyone take my food?"

The only mac and cheese he could find was the kind that needed to be made on the stovetop. He wasn't supposed to use the stove by himself, which was why the microwaveable meals were reserved for him. Just as he was wondering who he would enlist to help him make lunch, John sauntered into the kitchen, orange hair sticking out in various directions.

"Oi, any good grub in here?"

"How about mac and cheese?" suggested Jamie. He held out the box with one hand and crossed his fingers behind his back with the other. "We can split it."

John shrugged. "Sure. But it'll be a 60/40 split. I get the most."

"Deal!"

"Get me a pot…ah…crikey, I forgot your name." John crinkled his brow and pushed his fingers through his mop of hair. "There's too many of you munchkins 'round here."

"Jamie," the boy supplied, snagging a silver saucepan from one of the many drawers. He filled it with water from the sink and set it on the stove.

"Right. Knew it started with a 'J'." John moved over to the oven and turned the burner to the highest setting. Blue flames roared underneath the pot, and Jamie's eyes tripled in size when the young adult gave his wrist a flick, causing the flames to almost consume the saucepan.

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" he asked nervously, edging away from the flames.

"Do it all the time, mate. Don't worry your little head."

In an instant the water finished boiling and John added the noodles. For a moment, Jamie thought that perhaps there was really nothing for him to fret about. But this notion quickly disappeared when an errant flame caught the edge of the tea towel hanging from above the stove.

"Joooooohn!" yelped Jamie, panicking as the flames rapidly spread up the fabric and to the wooden cabinets. The smoke detectors immediately started to blare and the sprinklers activated, drenching the fire before John could act.

Thick grey smoke wafted in the air, causing both to begin coughing from the fumes. "Open a window!" ordered John, raising his voice to be heard over the wailing alarm.

Covering his mouth and nose with his arm, Jamie rushed over and shoved open the window situated above the sink. He then shrugged off his sweater and started shaking it in an up and down motion, trying to fan out the smoke.

"What is going on in here?"

The two whirled around, squinting through the haze to see Charles in the entryway. "Uh…we were just trying to make mac and cheese," muttered Jamie.

"Come out of there before you inhale more smoke," instructed Charles.

John and Jamie shuffled out of the kitchen, dripping wet and slightly sheepish. People were peering out from other doorways to see what was going on, and there was a small crowd gathered in the hallway.

"Sorry, Professor, Pete and Ah should have told you dat we don't let Pyro use the kitchen," drawled Remy with a slight smirk.

"Look Johnny, I know he's a shrimp, but he's not the kind you can fry," joked Pietro.

"Shut up, or I'll fry you in a minute," growled John.

"That's enough," chided Charles. He studied the two intently and asked, "Are you alright?"

"Fine," said Jamie, slinging his damp sweater over his shoulder.

"What he said," muttered John.

"Then I think its best if you stayed out of the kitchen until the smoke clears. John, I would appreciate it if you didn't use your powers in the house."

"Got it."

The two shuffled down the hall, ignoring the snickers and taunts of their peers. John rubbed the back of his neck and glanced down at the twelve-year-old walking dutifully beside him. "You wanna get a pizza or something?"

"Definitely!"

Eyes locked on the green Frisbee sailing through the air, Jamie stretched out his hands to catch it. Once he did, he came to a stop and called, "It's coming back!"

He threw the disc to his awaiting copy, but he missed his mark. It sailed over his copy's head and into the bushes lining the tall, fortified wall that surrounded the mansion. "Nice one," the copy grumbled.

"Aw, shut up and go get it."

His clone complied and jogged to retrieve the Frisbee. As he was coming back, he noticed a figure crouched on the top of the wall and let out a shout of surprise. "Dude!"

Jamie whirled around in time to see the figure jump down from the wall and land in front of him. The boy stumbled backwards, blue eyes wide. "Wait a minute, I know you!"

Indeed, the girl with long, dark brown hair, green eyes and black training uniform was someone he had seen before. He had gotten a fleeting glimpse of her face before she knocked him out cold.

"I'm not here to start anything!" she said quickly, raising her hands in a surrendering manner. "I…I just wanted to talk to Wolverine. He said…"

She suddenly trailed off, looking uncertain and nervous, and Jamie's tense, frightened posture relaxed slightly. "Er…well, Logan's not here right now. But he should be back soon."

"Oh. I guess I can come back…"

"You can wait with me, if you want." Jamie snagged the plastic disc from his bemused copy and phased it out. "Wanna play Frisbee?"

His simple offer startled the girl, who stared at him with confused eyes. "You want to play…with me? Why?"

Jamie blinked. "I like to play, and I like to have someone to play with."

"But I hurt you. Why would you be so nice to me after that?"

"Logan told us all what happened, after that night. I'm sorry people were so horrible to you," said Jamie solemnly. "We're not all bad, honest." He extended a hand with a smile. "I'm Jamie. What's your name?"

"X-23," she replied, eyeing the boy's hand with puzzlement. "Um…"

Jamie grasped her hand with his and gave it a firm shake. "Nice to meet you. I can take you to see Professor Xavier, if you want."

"I'd rather speak to Wolverine," she said firmly, eyes darting around warily.

"Okay," soothed Jamie. "So how about it?"

X-23 bit down on her bottom lip. "I don't know how to play Frisbee."

"It's easy! You just throw it and catch it. Here, I'll start."

Jamie jogged back a distance and gave his wrist a flick, sending the disc sailing through the air. X-23 watched its gentle descent towards her and raised her hand to snag it. She stared at it for a moment before looking towards the twelve-year-old, who was waiting patiently for her to throw it back. She tossed the Frisbee with full strength, and it sailed over Jamie's head and into a tree, embedding into the bark.

Frustration bubbled within her, but before she could unleash it Jamie exclaimed, "Whoa, that's awesome!"

"Really?" she asked dubiously. "I didn't do it right."

"That's okay. I don't do a lot of things right." Jamie retrieved the Frisbee and smiled brightly. "But sometimes if we practice, we can get good."

So X-23 found herself catching and throwing a plastic disc, trying to toss a perfect arc with not too much power. As the minutes wore on, she felt a tiny, sincere smile cross her face. She had never done such a frivolous, playful activity before, and it was surreal to be standing in a yard, playing with someone she once hurt. She didn't understand his easy forgiveness and willingness to help her, but she appreciated it nonetheless.

It wasn't long before the familiar roar of a motorcycle reached their ears and Jamie said cheerfully, "There's Logan. Come on!"

They raced over to the long driveway, and Logan immediately screeched to a stop upon spotting his clone. "Kid?" he asked incredulously, stepping off his bike and wrenching off his helmet. "What are ya doin' here?"

"I was tired of travelling alone," she replied, wrapping her arms tightly around her waist. "You said something about staying here, with the X-Men, and although I have no right to ask, I was wondering…if the offer was still open."

Relief coursed through Logan, who had thought about the girl every day since their last encounter. "'course the offer's still open. I'll take ya to see Professor Xavier." At her apprehensive expression, he assured, "He'll take ya in in a heartbeat, kid. He's big on second chances and junk like that."

X-23 nodded, and the three started up the driveway, Logan rolling his motorcycle along the asphalt. "Wish you woulda called first," he continued. "We've taken in a lot of strays since ya last been here."

When the girl frowned, Jamie clarified, "That's a joke. He likes to make them a lot. Just ignore them."

"That's not ya talking back, is it runt?"

"Nope!" said Jamie quickly, attempting to look innocent. "Never."

"Obviously, ya met the one-man welcoming party," drawled Logan, reaching out to shove the boy's shoulder teasingly.

"He's nice," stated X-23, and the boy beamed.

"Yeah," the man snorted. "Sometimes too nice."

They reached the mansion and Logan entered the garage to park his motorcycle. As X-23 inspected her surroundings, Logan leaned towards Jamie and said lowly, "Thanks, runt. She needed to encounter someone friendly when she first got here. I don't know how the rest woulda taken her sudden appearance."

"No problem. I think the others will warm up to her eventually," said Jamie confidently.

"They better," scoffed Logan. "The people in this place are horsing around with the Brotherhood, learning from Magneto and watching movies with the Acolytes. If the girls aren't having a slumber party with her within two days there is a serious problem."