Disclaimer:  I own nothing (except the OC's), and the pixies own me.  g

Logan concentrated on the road; or tried to.  Kurt was asleep – finally; his mother had threatened several times to knock him over the head if he didn't stay still.  Now, she reached out and gently laid a hand on his arm.

"Don't, Raven."

She looked hurt, damn her, for a second, an expression that one didn't usually associate with Mystique.  She snatched the hand back, turning away from him.  "Sorry."

Wonderful.  Now he felt guilty, on top of all the _other_ conflicting thoughts and emotions that were going through his head.

There were a few minutes of awkward silence, along the long, straight, highway.  Finally Wolverine spoke.

"Darlin'?"

"Hmm?"

"D'ya think I'm… a good man?"

Golden honey-eyes blinked at him in surprise.  "Not all the time, Logan.  You're a man that gets things done, and sometimes that means that you do things that perhaps you shouldn't.  Kurt," she smiled over her shoulder at her still-sleeping son, "he's a good man.  He'll always do what is right – and you can see how that hurts him.  He doesn't understand…" a look approaching regret crossed her face.  "He doesn't understand that sometimes you do things not because they are right, but because it is what has to be done at the time."

One eyebrow lifted.  "We still talking about me, Raven?"

She laughed, then, a bitter sound.  "Maybe."  She paused, and slid her hand onto his arm again.  "You want me to drive, give you a rest?"

"Nah, I'm good."

But when she didn't take her hand away, he didn't complain.  "Get some sleep, darlin'"

So she lay back, and she did let her hand slide away from him, catching snatches of sleep here and there as they sped towards Chicago.  Once she woke up, abruptly, and thought she'd caught him staring at her, a hint of a smile on his face.

Probably just her imagination.

A figure wanders aimlessly among cold streets.  To shut Carol up, she'd found a soup kitchen and eventually managed to eat something, although it sits heavy on her stomach.  The smiling woman behind the counter had complimented her on her 'pretty hair', and it is this hair which she now examines in a shop window, the blue streak left behind from Kurt now a pure white, gleaming translucent across her brow.

She wishes she had a knife – then she could hack it all off.  She wanted no reminders of what she had done.

~You're worried about a bit of hair, little girl?  If I was you, I'd be more worried about the fact that I AM TRAPPED INSIDE YOUR STINKING HEAD!~

But Danver's ranting has no visible effect, as she pauses in the shadow of an office building, to dip her hand in the ornamental fountain.  She's just drifting, drifting and fading.  And soon, she knows, she will fade away altogether.

Remy opened his eyes slowly, examining his surroundings.  Clean shining metal walls, clean shining furniture and equipment.  Rather dishevelled and quite annoyed looking Ororo sitting by his side.  Glaring at him.  Right, what had he done now?  His forehead screwed up in concentration.  Ow.  Thinking hurt.  Storm continued to glare at him, and slowly memory came back.

Merde.  He was going to be in trouble, especially if she'd already talked to Brightling.  He chanced another look at the set expression on her face.  Oui, he was in trouble.

"Stormy…"  If anything, she was looking even more annoyed.  What now?  Oh, right.  He cleared his throat and tried again. 

"Ororo…  uh…"  Before his panicked mind could come up with much more than that, she moved (quickly, with the grace of a cat, he noted appreciatively) and starting yelling at him.

"Do you have any idea, Remy, how worried I was?  What did you think you were doing?!  You could have killed yourself!!"

Smiling at her obvious care for him, he simply replied "S'okay, chere.  Remy alright."

Her eyes narrowed, and she said.  "Fine then.  If you're feeling 'alright', sit up."

Mentally he shrugged.  There was an IV running into one arm, so he used the other arm to prop himself up – or at least tried to.  His muscles felt like jelly.  Wobbling slightly, he did manage to get half-way into a sitting position, only to collapse when Storm poked him in the chest.

Only one thing left to try then.  He grinned at her.  "Y'know, chere, y' look beautiful when y' angry."

Disbelief and laughter warred in her eyes, before laughter won out.  "Why, you…" She hit him on the arm, not too hard, and then treated him to a kiss that took his breath away and really did turn his legs to jelly.  "Get some rest, Gambit."

He watched her sashay out of the room, and then stared at the ceiling, a decidedly silly grin on his face.

"Yep, Gambit." he whispered to himself.  "Y' in trouble now."

Xavier had threatened, pleaded and cajoled, and now he resorted to sheer trickery to get himself back into Cerebro.  Peering round the corner, he raced down the passageway, deceptively strong arms giving him the speed he needed.  Only to be caught telekinetically three feet from the doorway. 

~Nice try.~ said Jean's dry mind-voice.  ~You're worse than the children sometimes, do you know that?~

~I need to know what's going on, Jean.  And I might be able to find her – to search one city, really, it is not that tiring.~

A stony green-eyed look was his reply, but before either of them could say anything more, Scott rushed in.

"You need to take a look at this."

…once again, an FBI agent by the name of Carol Danvers died late last night after being attacked by an unknown mutant.

A picture was flashed up on the screen, a young woman with blank eyes and a white streak through her hair.

Ms Danvers, a thirty-two year old agent who transferred to the bureau five years ago, was, her colleagues say, an outgoing, life-loving woman, who will be sadly missed.  The unknown mutant is said to have taken to the skies in order to escape and is thought to be within the greater Chicago area.  As police and federal agencies continue the search for her, the public is warned that this woman is highly dangerous and should not be approached.  Anyone with information should call one of the following numbers…

"It must have been an accident." said Ororo, tears in her eyes.  "Rogue's just a child, she would never hurt anyone like that."

But a look passed between the others, thinking of Erik Magnus Lensheer, once known as Magneto, now a resident of very discreet and very expensive private mental health institution.  And the thought was - ~But what if it wasn't?~

A set of baleful eyes, shining red as the fires of hell, watched the broadcast also.

"What I wonder, Wanda, is why, when you had her in her grasp, did you let the girl go.  My orders, as you might recall, were quite specific."

His auburn-haired companion shrugged.  "Seems to me, Sinister, it's better this way.  Surely she is of more interest to you now?"

Something between a growl and a snarl crossed Essex's lips.  "And how much more difficult will it be to catch and retain the subject?  I do not pay you to think; nor do I pay you to play games with your captives, no matter how personal you think the matter is."

Wanda flushed.  "I'll find her, don't worry."

"I am quite sure you will.  But just to make sure there are no more… diversions… from the plan – Scalphunter, Arclight.  Go with her."

Two burly figures stepped forward from the shadows, Arclight grinning broadly.  "Sure thing, boss."

Logan leaned against the car as Kurt and Mystique stretched their tired limbs, taking a deep breath of air.  No scent of the kid – yet.  He considered their options.

"Kurt, she take any money with her?"

"Just grabbed some clothes, I think.  Why?"

"Girls gotta eat sometime.  We can start by hitting kitchens, shelters, anywhere where she might get free food, a place to stay, or some money."   He smiled at Kurt, already cheered up by the prospect of doing _something_, and laid a hand on his shoulder.  "Don't worry, kid.  We'll find her."

A/N:  But wait, there's more!  Or at least there will be.  *evil giggle*  Fear me.  Sorry it's a bit short.