Disclaimer:  Last time I checked, I don't own the X-Men.  Hang on, let me check again… Nope, still don't.  However, I do own Shadow, the twins, Violet, Sword and Carver (yay me!)

Silver's eyes flickered open as the smell of pancakes wafted in through the door.

"Morning, Chere."

Remy carried a tray piled high to the brim with pancakes.

"Is this a peace offering?"

"Dis, Stormy, is Kurt's secret pancake recipe.  One stack blueberry, one stack chocolate chip."

"What did you call me?"

"Stormy."  He grinned, and his eyes danced with mischief.  "After last nights show, Remy figure it suits y'.  Y' want de blueberry or de chocolate?"

"Do not call me Stormy." she said, snatching the plate of blueberry pancakes.

"Y' don' want chocolate?" asked Remy, apparently amazed.

"Chocolate is not a breakfast food." she replied haughtily, digging into the – truly wonderful – blueberry pancakes.

He just grinned in return, already halfway through his own pile.  A smear of chocolate rested at the corner of his mouth and she had the sudden urge to kiss it away.

"Y' sure y' don' want a taste?"

A sudden gust of wind blew the door shut.  Downstairs, Brightling paused with a forkful of pancake halfway to her mouth, and smiled.  Darkling just rolled his eyes.

Charles Xavier was convinced he was going to die.  All those years spent fighting for his dream, and he was going to die in a car crash.  How ignoble.

All this would never have happened if they hadn't let Logan drive.  It had taken a little while to convince him that taking the jet wasn't just a little too obvious.  Xavier's stomach, though, was wishing they had just taken the jet.  Might have been a lot easier.

His head was wishing that Logan, or Scott, or preferably both of them, would just shut up.  It didn't help matters that they'd been driving around in circles for what seemed like hours now, unable to find the right turn.

"Where the hell did you learn to drive, Logan?"

"Don't remember, kid.  Maybe if ya would shut up and let me concentrate…"

"Could that be it?" asked Jean, as a small road became visible on the left.

"Maybe." said Logan.

But as they got closer, all four of them had the same thought.

"Nah.  That's not it."

The car lurched and swerved onwards.

"Jesus, Logan, are you trying to kill us all?"

"If I was trying that, bub, you'd be the first ta go."

Charles Xavier just sighed.  He felt a migraine coming on.

Violet brought a stack of dishes into the kitchen.  Kurt was staring out the window – she didn't have to look to know what, or rather who, he was looking at.

"I saved a few." she said, holding out a plate.  "Sword and Darkling were fighting over who got what, and I snitched them while they weren't looking."

"Danke, but I'm not hungry."

"They're not for you." she replied, looking out over his shoulder.  "Why don't you go talk to her, take her some breakfast?"

"Your concern is welcome, Violet, but…"

"But nothing."  She shoved the plate into his hands and pushed him in the general direction of the back door.  "You love her, she loves you, the rest is just details."

"Violet…"

"Don't whine.  Now go, before I get angry!"

He smiled at her.  "Thank you."  Then he walked out the door, heading out towards Rogue.  All things considered, Violet thought, it was probably better that he didn't teleport.  Sulfur didn't really go with pancakes.

It was times like this that she really wished she had better hearing.  Not that she would gossip about it – much – but the truth was that Violet was a hopeless romantic.  Young love.  She smiled, thinking of when she'd first met Sword, more than five years ago…

Violet crept through the hospital.  She came here often do to her work – there were only a couple of nurses and doctors on duty during the night, and they made only a cursory check through the wards every hour or so.  She was seventeen, although so short, and skinny from living on the streets, that a casual observer might have put her age at closer to thirteen.

Then again, there's not really any such thing as a casual observer.

It was dangerous, she knew, to sneak in after visiting hours; but there were some things she needed more time to accomplish than the five or ten minutes she could snatch between visits from staff and family that occurred during the day.  And she'd promised this one girl that she would come back to help her.

She always healed kids nowadays – adults recognized her for a mutant; kids called her the 'Purple Fairy', and were happy for the help she could give.

The girl was asleep; so much for the better.  Violet could 'see' the crack across her spine; the result of a car accident – healing it, while possible, would be a lengthy task.  But worth it if the little one would walk again.  Eating from discarded hospital trays and trashcans; catching handfuls of sleep here and there, afraid of being caught – none of it mattered when her gift was flowing through her.

Her mother had said she was 'sinful', but Violet believed she was doing the work of God.

A noise somewhere behind her, and she looked around, but there was nothing but empty space.  Sometimes, these big old wards made you feel like there was always somebody watching.

Letting the glow surround her, she began her work.  The child stirred, but did not awaken.  Violet was concentrating on her work; so absorbed was she that she didn't hear the argument floating down the hallway – the head nurse yelling at a man who stomped towards the ward, heavy of foot and slurred of voice.

"Can't I see my own damn child whenever I want?  Goddamn hospitals.  I've got a right…"

"Visiting hours are over.  If you don't leave, I will call security!"

In fact, the first she knew of their arrival is when a fist slammed into her side, moving her away from the girl.  The man loomed in her face, reeking of alcohol and sweat.

"What the hell are you doing to my daughter, mutie?"

"I'm trying to help…" she tried to explain, but he wasn't listening.

"You mutants are everywhere these days.  Dirty scum, probably carry God knows what kinda diseases.  I'm not having you near my child!"

He pulled a knife and advanced.  The nurse was going to be no help; she'd retreated to the bedside of the daughter, obviously wanting to avoid any part in the confrontation.  Violet backed into a corner, eyes closed.  She hadn't finished her work, she could feel it.  Tears crept down her cheeks.  She'd promised.  She'd promised.

"Why don't you back off?"

The new voice came from right beside her, and looking up, she saw the face of James Sword.  He was one of the hospital cleaners, or so she'd thought.  He sometimes shared his lunch with her, and let her know where and when it was safe to do her healing.

Now he held a sword made of light, the tip just resting lightly under the drunken fathers chin.

The man had backed off, dropping his knife, and Sword scooped her up into his arms, carrying her away.  He hadn't understood why she was crying till much much later, and then, it was too late to go back.

She'd promised.

Sword stepped lightly into the kitchen, holding another stack of plates.

"What are you thinking about?"

She smiled, no sign of tears on her face.

"Young love."

He craned his neck, watching Kurt walk up towards Rogue.


 "So why don't we give 'young love' some privacy, hmm?  Besides, if you hang out here, you're going to miss the opportunity to tease Remy and Silver."

When they left the kitchen, however, the opportunity was already gone.  The door slammed behind the Way's newest pair of lovebirds, and Brightling hit Darkling, stealing a last scrap of pancake.

"Hey!" he said, more annoyed at the lost pancake than anything else.  He gestured in the general direction of the door. 

"Think it was something I said?"

Kurt saw Remy and Silver heading up towards the 'crest', a hill near the gate with a little hollow in the side which had made it a favorite hideout for, in turn, Violet and Sword, then himself and Rogue, and now, it seemed that their newest pair would be keeping up the tradition.

With a sigh, a brief muttered prayer, and a very tight grip on the plate of pancakes, he turned away from them and towards his lady love.

As always, even when deep in meditation, she knew of his approach, and turned her emerald gaze upon him.

"What d'ya want?"

Words, Wagner.  Those things that come out of your mouth.  Say something, instead of staring at her like a moon-struck fool.

After a slight pause, he found his voice.

"I brought breakfast.  Pancakes."

"Thank you."

He sat beside her while she ate; neither of them spoke.  He longed to just reach out and touch her, just wrap an arm around her, slip his hand into hers, perhaps brush his lips…

And these thoughts were not helping.

But instead, he sat silently, watching her eat blueberry pancakes (the chocolate ones were long gone), and wondering what the hell he was going to do next.

"So" she said, putting the empty plate aside.  "Ah guess we do need ta talk."

Xavier called a halt, and Wolverine glared, but pulled over to the side of the road.

"Oh, very good." he whispered, almost to himself.  "Whoever you are, you're very subtle."

"What ta hell is it, Chuck?"

"There is a telepathic guard around that road we keep passing.  A simple little thing;  someone just slips the thought into any passing minds – that that road is not the one they are looking for."

Logan growled.  "Telepaths.  Might have guessed."

"I suggest we go back; Jean and I will try to break the guard, or at least counteract its effects."

Darkling frowned, turning his attention away from Gilligans Island.  Brightling was taking her usual post-pancake nap; slumped on the couch, half awake.

One side effect of Sinisters meddling – he didn't need to sleep (Gee, thanks, Doc.).  So he was the one who kept the barrier up, making sure the Way was kept safe.  Hidden.  And now, someone was trying to get through.  No need to alarm everyone, at least not yet, but he couldn't keep up the barrier and scan a couple of shielded minds at the same time.

~Shadow.  We may have a problem.~

Kurt reached out towards Rogue, but she snatched her hand away.

"Do ya still not understand?"

"Nein.  I understand.  I just don't think it's a good enough reason."

"Ah could kill you."

He shrugged.  "And a meteor could fall out of the sky and squash me flat."

"It's not ta same thing."

"Liebling, let me show you something."

He got to his feet, instinctively holding out his hand to help her up.  But she stood up, ignoring the outstretched hand, and he let it drop to his side, feeling a little foolish.  The familiar deep ache in his chest returned.

With Rogue trailing behind, he made his away across the fields.

"You know Carver used to live here?"

She nodded.  "Brightling mentioned it once, Ah think."

"Do you know why he left?"

She stepped up to his side, to view the simple headstones.  They said merely 'ANNA, BELOVED WIFE' and 'MICHAEL, BELOVED SON'.

"Carver's wife wasn't a mutant," began Kurt, "but she stayed with us anyway.  She was a sweet person."  He shrugged. 

"She was one of the first normal people not to scream and run when she met me."


Was it his imagination, or did Rogue move a fraction close to him?

"Their little boy was a mutant, ja.  Looked like his father, only green, and a little scaly.  One day, Carver's going a couple towns over doing a job – he used to do some repairs and so on – and Anna decides to take her son for a day out in the market over that way.  Carver drops them off, heads off to the job, comes back to pick them up a couple hours later."

"Ah take it it didn't work out like that."

"A couple of townspeople took offense at the green kid.  Beat them to death while the rest stood by and did nothing.  After we buried them, Carver left.  Hasn't been back through the gates since."

Tears brimmed in her eyes.  "That's a horrible story.  Ya trying to make me cry?"

"I'm trying to make you see that life is… unpredictable.  Things happen that are out of our control.  And lets face it, the world isn't all that safe for people like us nowadays."

"So ya want to try and get killed?"

Kurt turned and took her hands in his; she didn't pull away this time.

"I'm saying that some risks, they are worth taking."

She looked down at their hands intertwining; then she leaned forward and kissed him.

And then Remy went flying out from behind the crest and landed across the fields from them.

"Get Violet!" yelled Rogue, running towards the disturbance.

Kurt bamfed back to the house.  What the hell sort of trouble had Gambit got himself into now?

They'd managed to break through the shield and drove up the dirt road to a very ordinary looking farm.  Both Xavier and Jean were scanning for Storm, but couldn't seem to find her.

Wolverines nose, however, was not so easily fooled.

With a growl, he leapt out of the car, over a fence, and ran across the fields.

"Scott, go after him!" yelled Jean.

Logan ran through the fields, knowing her scent was just round the corner.  Another scent mingled with it; he didn't recognize it, or realize the significance of it's presence.

Until he rounded the corner of a small hill and saw Storm, kissing another man, the fingers of one hand twisted in his hair while the other hand slid around his waist and up his shirt.

Wolverine saw red.

Silver giggled, settling comfortably into the hollow while Remy whispered all kinds of ridiculous endearments in French and she made sure his hands stayed where they were supposed to.  But then he kissed her properly, and all of a sudden it was her hands that were wandering – not that he was complaining.

Then he was ripped away from her, and she backed away from the attacker; a strange, feral looking man who yet seemed vaguely familiar.

"Stay back!"

He looked almost as confused as she felt.  He took another step forward.

"'Ro?"

Another man she didn't know came running up behind the first.  She'd never been so happy to have Rogue appear by her side.

"Are ya alright, Sugah?"

The 'bamf' to her left would be Kurt – out of the corner of her eye she could she he had brought Violet to Remy's side.  From the house, Sword and the three telepaths ran towards them, Sword reaching her side first, in full battle mode.

"Wait!" called Shadow.  "Sword, Rogue, back down."

Sword let his weapon and armor disappear in a puff of smoke, Rogue relaxing out of the tense position she'd held, ready to spring for the enemy, deadly hands outstretched.

"There are no enemies here." Shadow continued.  "But we do need to talk."

Remy got back to his feet, having been given the all clear by Violet, and came up behind her, wrapping his arms around her.  She leant back into his comforting embrace; the feral man scowled at them both.

The second man placed a hand on his shoulder, saying something she couldn't quite hear in a low voice; the feral shrugged him off with a growl.

"Fine then." he said.  "We talk."

A/N: More coming soon!  Do you want Ororo to end up with Remy or Logan?  Vote now, or forever hold your peace!