Disclaimer:  You'd think by now I wouldn't have to say it, but sadly, I don't own the X-Men or associated villains  (Although I did enjoy killing Sabretooth off).  I do own Sword, Violet, Shadow, the twins, and Carver (now officially a convenient plot device in two fics of mine)

Logan paced the floor outside Cerebro.  Red hadn't been able to tell them much – only that Sabertooth knocked her out, and when she woke up, someone had told her that the 'big crazy man' had ran away with her friend.

Now Xavier was searching for a sign of either of them, or other members of the Brotherhood.  He'd been in there for hours – pretty soon Wolverine was going to give up on the telepath method of finding people, and return to his personal favorite, the 'beating the shit out of people' method of finding people.

He growled under his breath, and punched the wall for the twentieth time that hour.  A large dent was developing in the smooth metal.  Every time Summers came out to check on him he pursed his lips in disapproval at that antic; but either Red had told him to behave or he had some kind of survival instinct, because he hadn't mentioned it yet.

Xavier emerged from Cerebro, already shaking his head.

"I'm sorry.  Magneto has some kind of shield – I cannot locate Storm, nor any member of the Brotherhood."

"It's been eight hours, Chuck, and all ya can tell me is 'I'm sorry'?"

"Logan…"

"Forget it.  I'm gonna go see what info I can dig up."

Xavier sighed, as Wolverine stormed out.

Two hours later, Logan was thoroughly pissed.  He'd been to the Freak-House, and several other disreputable bars, both mutant, and those who just didn't care.  He'd checked half the safe houses in New York.  No one knew anything, had seen anything, or heard anything.

He turned out of the parking lot of the 'BullDog', a tumbledown bar whose owner was famous for knowing things he, (or anyone else) shouldn't really know.  But this time he'd just shrugged, even when faced with first, a bribe, and second, a set of adamantium claws.

There was another safe house just a couple of streets up, he knew.  Not that he'd had any luck with them so far – most of the operators of mutant safe houses tended to be close-mouthed by nature – but you never knew.

Just then an expensive car pulled up in front of his bike, Summers at the wheel.

"You need to come back to the mansion."

"I need to find 'Ro, Cyke."

"Magneto turned up at the mansion."

"What?!"

"Some group apparently managed to trash the Brotherhood.  They're the ones who have 'Ro now."

Growling under his breath, Logan turned the bike around and followed Summers back to the mansion – although perhaps 'raced' would be a better term.

If he'd looked behind him, he might have seen a battered old van with Pennsylvania license plates, turning out of the side street where the safe-house was, and heading up towards the freeway.

Inside, Remy LeBeau tried to find a position that would minimize the pain from his bruises and cuts and still allow him to gaze upon the sleeping form of the unknown woman; perhaps the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen.  Shadow was driving, and Kurt was asleep on Rogue's lap: Rogue and Violet, leaning against Sword, were exchanging amused glances over Remy's rather obvious infatuation.

~Don' worry, Chere.  Remy keep y' safe.~

Magnetos mind was a wreck; Xavier had finally agreed to Jean's idea of a mild sedative; asleep, they could at least get some sense out of him, unethical as it may have been.

What he saw puzzled and worried him.  A group had attacked the Brotherhood, with unknown motives.  Sabretooth was dead.  But more importantly (Xavier couldn't pretend to himself that the death of Victor Creed filled him with great sadness), was the memory Magneto had of this young girl; a girl who, with a touch, had managed to defeat one of the most powerful and dangerous mutants in the world.

Such as power, if misused, could be a disaster.  Xavier shuddered to think what such a child might be capable of, if she was led down the wrong path.

Just another reason why they had to find Storm, and the people who had her, as soon as possible.

A/N: I know, a bit short.  Want more?