Author's Note**

                        The characters being split up into pairs are the older ones, which include Angel, Nightcrawler, Shadowcat, Cyclops, Jean, Storm, Beast, Rogue, Wanda, Toad, Blob, Avalanche, Colossus, Pyro, and Gambit. Uneven right? Ah, the mystery behind it all. As for the younger crew, well somebody has to pick up the X-men slack, right?

            No one protested their assignments. That's not to say that nobody wanted to protest them, they were just held in check by the steely look in the Professor's eyes and the obviously threatening manner of Magneto. Rogue had a feeling she knew why the Professor had teamed her up with Wanda; if she were the boss, she wouldn't want Miss Psychopath running amuck in the world either. Lord only knows what kind of catastrophic destruction the girl could bring about if she happened to get pissed off. And that fact made Rogue have to respect her. After all, if you're gonna blow things up, then you might as well blow up as many things as you can.

            Trailing Storm out the door, Gambit shot Rogue a final parting grin and a wave, both which gave her reason to frown. That boy's gonna need a few smacks, preferably with somethin' blunt and heavy. And about the head area. With an expression that did not look particularly interested, Wanda turned her head and noted,

            "He seems to have taken a liking to you."

            Rogue rolled her eyes. "Great. If Ah gave a damn Ah might have jumped outta this bed an' done a little dance for ya."

            Just as she said that, Todd hopped past with Kurt who looked none too happy about the pairing. The toad like teenager gave Wanda the goofiest love stricken grin one could imagine, then stepped on the cuff of his jeans and fell flat on his face. Pressing a hand to her forehead, Wanda sighed.

            "Just remember that it could be worse."

            Rogue glanced down with sympathy at Todd. He looked like he was probably seeing tweety birds. "Ah hear ya."

                                                            ************************************

            As Kitty walked down the hall away from the hospital wing, she felt a tiny bit like she had some huge lumbering figure following behind her. Looking over her shoulder, she thought well duh, I totally do have a huge lumbering figure behind me. She didn't know exactly how she felt about having him as a partner; he seemed to be the strong silent type. Because she couldn't bear the thought of any amount of time passing without some kind of conversation, she smiled weakly at him and asked,

            "So, what's your name?"

            His eyes, which had been dutifully scanning the various pictures on the walls they passed, glanced down at her and he seemed surprised to hear her speak.

            "Piotr Nikolaievitch Rasputin," he answered after a moment in a heavy accent. Kitty withheld a sigh. I'm like always getting stuck with boys who can't speak English good.

            "Whoa, does that like come with a translation?" she asked.

            He frowned a little as if he didn't quite understand her question. Then his brows cleared and, much to her amazement, he nodded his head and smiled. She didn't think bad guys could smile. But then, she also couldn't figure out how all those people fit inside the television.

            "Peter is my name. The others know me as Colossus," he clarified. As he walked his large shoulder bumped into one of the paintings on the wall and knocked it down. He reached out one hand to grasp the frame and in doing so, cracked the wood with his strength.

            "I am sorry," he stated immediately, another surprise. "I am . . . clumsy."

            Kitty decided right then that all bad guys couldn't be bad and besides, the sorrowed look on his face made him kind of cute.

            "Nah, you're just big," she corrected, taking the frame from his hands and leaning it up against the wall. "Don't worry about it. Someone's always breaking something in this place." As if on cue, there was the sound of glass shattering, followed by an "ooops" that sounded very much like Fred. Angel will have a heck of a time dropping him off a cliff, Kitty thought. To Peter, she smiled warmly and added, "See?"

                                                                        **************************

            Lance glared so hard at Scott's retreating back that it was a wonder the optically challenged boy didn't spontaneously combust. Now THAT, Lance would have found amusing, especially if Summers' stuck up girlfriend caught on fire too. Speaking of fire he glanced over at the freckled face dude Xavier had stuck him with. If anyone in that group had a chance at being more mentally unbalanced than Wanda it was this guy. His eyes wandered around the room in a way that made Lance think the guy was seeing things that weren't actually there. And he had this annoying habit of giggling a little every so often. Well it could be worse, he thought, though not by much. I could've been stuck with Summers. Still, that didn't mean he had to like the situation. Nearly growling, he turned to the fiery haired boy next to him and introduced himself.

            "I'm Lance. Call me Avalanche."

            The boy giggled, but Lance took it as insanity and not an insult. "Avalanche, eh? No worries mate, I'll rememba. I'm Pyro though me mum calls me St. John."

            Lance frowned; he had a little trouble deciphering the Aussie's statement. Once he had, his frown deepened.

            "Don't you have to die to become a Saint?" he asked belligerently.

            St. John didn't seem at all bothered by the sarcasm for some reason. Oh, that's right. He's insane. "So tell me mate, why is it you look like you'd like to drop somethin' nice and heavy on Shades over there?"

            "He's a prick."

            "Oh, right." St. John's eyes seemed to light up. "Why don't we go have ourselves a barbeque then?" He shot a line of flame from one of his throwers and it took the form of an outside grill complete with steaks of fire. Lance shook his head, even though there wasn't anything he thought he would enjoy more.

            "No, you heard Magneto. No more in house fighting." He grinned as inspiration struck. "But he didn't say that we could burn all of one eyes' clothes. Let's go."

                                                                        ***************************

            Beast watched the two natural disaster prone teens go running off to pillage Scott's closet and sighed.

            "We're going to need more fire extinguishers," he said to no one in particular. Turning, he headed back to the hospital wing, making himself a list as he went.

            "And first aid kits. And insurance. All kinds of insurance. And groceries. And . . ."

                                                                        ***************************

            Gambit was a bit surprised when the white haired woman led him to a room, then closed and locked the door. She looked like she had something on her mind that she wanted to talk about and the possibilities made him a little uneasy. Sure, there was no question that she was beautiful but he thought that that white hair would make him feel like he was romancing a grandma. And that thought had any bit of mojo he might have mustered up flying straight out the window. Luckily though, his fears went unrealized as Storm was not there to molest him in any way.

            "I know what you are, child."

            A raised eyebrow was the only sign of his annoyance at having been called a child. "An' what is it dat you think Gambit be, Madame?" he asked with all his normal swagger. In response, Storm lifted her right hand and flicked her fingers in a manner that would have seemed foreign to anyone else. But Gambit's red eyes flashed with surprise, though he recovered from it quickly.

            "Now, where would a Madame such as yoreself pick up somethin' like dat?" Unconsciously he pulled out his deck and rifled them through his fingers.

            "From a man in New Orleans named Jean-Luc. Have you heard of him?"

            This time there was no outward flicker of surprise from him. Outside he remained casual though inside his mind was racing.

            "'Dere be a lot of Jean-Lucs in the bayous, oui." But he knew exactly which one she was referring to. By the look in her eyes, he could tell she knew that. She pressed further.

            "This one was the head of a thieves guild."

            Pulling out his most charming grin, Gambit spread his hands and shook his head innocently. "Gambit don't know any d'ieves. Me'be you thinkin' of another town, no?"

            To his relief, she appeared to back down. "Maybe," she replied, heading past him towards the door. Blowing out a quiet breath, Gambit decided he had a number of things to think about. Especially if anyone else there knew about his dealings with the underground of Louisiana.

            "Gambit?" Storm called from door, startling him. He turned his head slightly towards her and waited.

            "I know what you are," she repeated. "And should you decide one day to trade your life now for one with the X-men, know that it can be done."

            And with that she left.