Author's Note: Whoo, more of the Nates, some dropped hints, and a nervous foray into giving poor Piotr a character. Is something else going on? Hmm. Hmmm. I wonder if the assute readers will see the horrible game I'm playing. Never fear, all things will be revealed in time.

The afternoon was as sunny as the morning had been, however, that brought Jean no comfort. Well, at least she could keep Nathan and Nathaniel outside. They seemed fairly content to run around, occasionally whacking each other with sticks. In her role as a mentor, Jean felt that she should observe, but she couldn't help the fact that there was currently a whole lawn between her and the twins.

When Kurt tapped her on the shoulder, Jean practically jumped in her chair. "What?!"

"Woah, hey, touchy," Kurt told her, holding up his hands defensively. "I just wanted to see how you were doing. Are the two little boys way over there yours?"

Jean tried to calm her heart rate, and consider his question in a normal light. "They're from the SYNE program. I only have two more hours and then I'm free."

This cause Kurt to look at his housemate critically. She looked frazzled. He couldn't resist wagging a finger at her, however. "Now, now, how can you say that. You might make them think that they aren't welcome."

This statement caused Jean to stand up, her arms shaking. "Have you any idea what my day has been like? I've had to break up six fights, apologize to all of my teachers, and I've been kicked in the shins. Twice."

Kurt winced. That sounded painful. "Oh, ouch. Are they really all that bad?"

Sitting back down, Jean stared across the lawn tiredly. "Yes. Well, it's mostly Nathan. He has a very short temper, and tried to use it to get what he wants. I've had to be very strict. It's just, this isn't fun. I had all of these plans about how I was going to make Fridays turn into a kind of wonderful treat. Instead, here I am with my Monday homework watching over those two as they go crazy in the middle of our lawn."

Kurt spied the two trading blows with their sticks, and grinned. When he was that age, he would have given anything for a sibling to play swords with, or just a neighborhood friend. Neither of these had happened, of course, because his mother lived in a very quiet and reserved part of town.

"Maybe it's not so bad," he tried to cheer Jean up. "Look at them, they're clearly having fun."

Jean pointed with a pencil as Nathan jumped on Nathaniel's back, and started to beat him about the head. "Yeah. Fun. I'm going to go break them up."

She rose stiffly, feeling like creaky old lady Jean rather than vital young MVP Jean. However, once she got moving, she covered ground fast enough. Sliding to a halt she pulled Nathan from Nathaniel with one arm, snatching sticks away only a few seconds later.

Clearing her throat, she looked down at both young boys, who returned her stern expression with twin glares of dislike. "Haven't you had enough of that?"

The boys exchanged glances. "No."

A blur of white knocked against Nathan's head. He swung around, glaring, as Kurt stood near by, a grin on his face, and the soccer ball near his foot. "So, Jeanie here hasn't been practicing for soccer. I was thinking, you guys could whip her into shape, right?"

Brown eyes narrowed in Nathan's face, while Nathaniel obviously considered it. "You're trying to be friendly, aren't you?" Nathan was nothing if not overly suspicious.

Kurt tried to look innocent. "Me? I just want to see Jean beat by a bunch of ten year olds. It would make my day, honestly."

Nathaniel walked forward, and picked up the ball dubiously. Testing the weight, he smirked, and then punted it towards his twin's face. "Pay back time!"

Nathan's impending face sandwich was blocked by Jean's leg, as she took control of the ball. "Ah-ah. You'll have to be better than that," she taunted. "As for Kurt, some friend you are!"

The ball sailed towards Kurt's feet, and he took off with it, laughing as the three others gave chase. They tore across the lawn together, gradually passing the soccer ball back and forth.

Professor Xavier, on the terrace with his paper work spread in front of him, looked up, and smiled at the laughing sounds of the children. He looked over at his fellow instructor, only to see that the auburn haired woman was rolling her eyes.

"Come, now, Moira. Doesn't that make you feel young again?" he asked.

She favored her colleague with a dry glance. "I am young, Charles. I personally could use the quiet while going over the budget."

The professor shrugged, shuffling papers. "The early applications for the spring semester are promising. Given your little friend's school scores I think she'll fit right in. I wish I could say the same for—,"

"Give the Haller boys a chance," Doctor Mctaggart did not allow the professor to finish his sentence. "I reviewed their files, and they have the grades for this place. Just because you've run into a bit of a sticky wicket where they're concerned—,"

"Moira, please, is now the best time to make bad croquet puns?"

This made the Scottish doctor laugh. "Is there ever a good time to make bad croquet puns? But speaking of twins, I forgot to tell you, but Magnus called."

The dark eyebrows shot together. "Really? When?"

"Just after lunch," Moira collected her papers into a folder. "He wants to convince you that he should retain custody over his daughter, and that she is to remain in Ravencroft as is his wish."

Professor Xavier sighed. "You make it sound so polite and reasonable when you say it."

Smirking, the doctor rose, intending to find a quieter venue. "He sounded quite reasonable on the phone, too. However, it is the substance, not the qualities of the substance that we care about, Charles. I suppose you'll be wanting to meet with him and the Maximoffs before the week is out?"

Professor Xavier nodded. "And as the week is going to be out rather quickly, I'll have to move fast. Hopefully nothing will go wrong with the institute—it would be just like this place to get flooded right when I need to put my concentration other places," his tone spoke of a fatherly affection for an erring child, as he looked back at the family home that he had renovated and transformed into a school.

"If nothing goes wrong here, it will go wrong somewhere else," Moira predicted, dryly.

She opened the glass doors to the patio, and stepped inside the cool, climate controlled building. This was where civilization lay, after all. In the things that man had built. She sometimes had no idea how Charles managed to coax her into the pollen bearing outdoors.

Rounding the corner between the kitchen and the open hall, she nearly crashed into a preoccupied St. John.

"Careful, will you, lad?" the woman demanded, offering him a steadying hand. "Where were you off to, now? It's a fine Friday afternoon. Your friend Kurt's outside entertaining the young ones Jean brought back."

The Australian felt caught in the chair of the inquisition. Had she seen though his skull to pierce his thoughts? Did she know? Was he betraying his friendships? Raaah! His life had been way less complicated before he knew Rogue and all of her friends. Should have stuck with the people at the institute. Yeah, that's what he should have done.

But then he never would have played poker with a clever Indian girl in The Wolverine. They wouldn't have rescued Kitty. He wouldn't have seen Rogue take down people in a grave yard. There would have been no relaxing-slash-drama-filled afternoons at The Backs.

Oh, crap, he needed an answer ready.

"Tea cozy! I'm looking for one. Betsy told me that they didn't have 'em in America. Can you believe it? I know she's trying to have me on," John wanted to slap himself in the head. This was a teacher. You didn't tell teachers things like this. That was asking for them to get nosy, and wonder about medications.

Moira sighed. "You have a lot of homework to do, don't you?"

John looked for an out on slightly saner ground. "Yeah. Lots. Tons. This weekend, anyway. But I'm gonna find out the answer to this mystery first. Be seeing you!" he legged it towards the stairs.

The dorm hallway was surprisingly quiet. John was able to able along at his own pace, stopping only when he could not move further because of a monumental obstruction. That obstruction was Piotr's back, which hunched over a huge paper tapped to a bigger board. John found himself looking down a penciled replica of the hall, all the doors at the proper intervals, and the sunny window at the end showing a full view of the institute grounds. Lying on her stomach, reading a copy of Robin Hood: Collected Ballads of the Prince of Thieves, Betsy helped to take up what space was left.

St. John grinned, imagining the reaction he would receive for walking on Betsy's back to get to his room. If he had both legs by the end of it, he would have been very surprised. He also would have a legitimate excuse for not helping Pietro.

However, he would be shorter than Kurt, which would invite endless embarrassment. So he should probably remain with all limbs attached for now—unless he could convince Betsy to take just an arm, maybe? No, no, things would not work that way.

Peering over Piotr's shoulder very quietly, and wait until the absorbed artists noticed looked as though it would be fun. If John was very still he might cause his Russian housemate to jump out of his skin. That would be hilarious.

However, Piotr was clearly more observant than the Austrialian had every suspected. "John do you have a suggestion?"

"Yahhh! How'd you know I was there?"

Piotr turned to look at the orange haired boy with a smug grin. "Betsy—what do you call it?"

"Ninja skills," the purple haired goth turned a page in her book with a private grin.

The Russian nodded. "Ninja skills. Yeah. But, a suggestion, John?"

Johnny considered the picture. "Um, a little demon thing hanging from the ceiling by his tail? Or a person flying in the air out of the window? Or maybe a circle of light with someone stepping through it? Oh! A dragon. There should totally be a dragon!"

Piotr essayed a few scribbles in the shadow that a hall table made. Suddenly John was looking at a small winged reptile peeking around the table leg. Another few scribbles and a vaguely human shape was emerging from the wall near by, looking around in confusion.

Struck by a creepy brainwave, St. John couldn't help adding: "Make that Kitty."

Betsy looked over, interested. "Hey, good idea, Johnny. That dragon looks a lot like her stuffed toy. Piotr—what's she doing? Isn't there a wall there?"

Piotr shrugged. "Katya always says that she wishes she could sink through the floor. Why not float through a wall, yeah?"

There was a plummeting feeling in John's stomach. This was a little creepy. On the other hand—maybe his story was spilling over into real life. That would be cool, actually. Well, except for the part where Lance was a rough, angry, morally suspect, and supremely powerful. Oh, and where Rogue was sad, confused, and constantly scared. That would be unpleasant to explain. Sorry, I wrote you that way.

"Awesome, Petey. But, um, I was trying to get to my room, so," John managed to hop through the space created, as Piotr leaned good-naturedly to the side. "Thanks!" He continued towards his room, but stopped thoughtfully. Piotr was on the level. "Hey, Petey?"

"Yeah?" Piotr looked up, his expression a caricature of attentiveness. John grinned wistfully, realizing that Piotr was currently in whatever land inspired artists. "Nothing. Just, if your friend was doing something stupid, would you stop them?"

Piotr bit the end of his pencil. "What kind of friend? Older brother kind—you stop them. You have to for the good of both of you. The younger sister kind, those are harder to stop, so you just have to hope that you can keep them from getting hurt."

John tried to categorize Pietro. Younger sister certainly was not what he would label the Maximoff boy. That would be twisted. But Pietro was not exactly a role model older-brother type, either. And he did seem kind of hard to stop. These questions were hard to answer.

But John did not think that he could keep Pietro from doing something really stupid, so that left option two, he guessed. Grinning painfully, he waved at Piotr. "Yeah, thanks for that, mate."

As the orange haired boy dashed for his room, Betsy looked after him. "Hey, what do you think that was about?"

Piotr shrugged. "I don't know. Does it matter?"

"To me?" Betsy asked thoughtfully, thinking of the Kitty situation of last week. "Maybe."

So, did that work for Piotr's character? I don't feel as though I have a very good handle on Evo-Colossus, and thus, I am a nervous chicken, who has not really written him in before now. However, I have plans for him, come November, so I thought I should start playing with him more.

Oh, and I haven't done this in a long time, but I read a fantastic story last week. Search for "Dark Machinations" by AnimeMaster24. Give it a read, and pass along a little concrit. It'll make a world of difference.

~ MF