DISCLAIMER: Theirs is theirs, mine is mine. I just write to demonstrate how much I like the characters they created. Suing me would be an utter waste of time as the only things of monetary value I own are a bunch of textbooks and a pot plant called Sid.
AUTHOR'S NOTES: After a little gentle prodding from Idsunki I gave this style another shot and saw where it took me, so you have him to blame for this offering. I can't say where it came from, exactly. The plot bunny just jumped out from behind a wall on the way to a lecture and bit me (savage little bugger). Still, at least it didn't go the same way most of my fics in first person narrative do (i.e. the recycle bin).

Draws rather heavily on comic-verse (note; draws on - meaning some things are altered slightly, so no picking on me about exact details), and from the universe I created in my New Mutants introduction fic, 'New and Improved' (henceforth to be known as NAI). If you have no idea what I'm talking about and have never read NAI then don't worry. Most important points are expounded here, too. To people who *have* read it, kudos!

Takes place in the same generic part of Season Two, as most of my fics do, when the X-Men were all present and accounted for, and mutants weren't yet a feature on local or any other news network. This first part is rather short, especially when compared to the other two, but Rahne really didn't have much to say on the matter. Just bear with me a second, OK? Title comes from a song of the same name by America.

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'Fallin' Off the World' By Scribbler
Part One of Three

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_Through Rahne's Eyes_
I've never been much of a morning person. Not really. Oh sure, back home it was expected for everybody to be an early riser, but I flatly refused to be bright eyed and bushy tailed. As I still maintain, I'll rise, but I won't shine. As far as I'm concerned, morning requires daylight. No daylight, no morning, and no getting up.

A shame nobody else seems to share my philosophy, huh?

Which is why, when I'd finished battering my alarm clock to death and crawled out of bed that morning, I wasn't exactly in the best of moods. Why is it that Logan insists on waking us a so goddamn early? I mean, American school is bad enough. Back home it's customary to start at 9a.m. and not a minute before. I don't mind admitting I was horrified when I first learned what time they started over here in the States. And then good 'ole Logan has to lumber us with pre-carpool training sessions too. I swear that man's a sadist or something.

Still, every time I somehow manage to drag myself out from under the covers and stumble into my clothes. There've been a few occasions where I put my uniform on backwards - most notably the time I got halfway down the corridor before realising what I'd done, and then had to scrabble back to my room and change it before anyone saw. Ray'd never get off my back if he heard about something like that. He's like a vulture, always looking for a weak spot he can pick at, just to see what kind of reaction he'll get. Gets on my nerves sometimes.

Still, on this particular morning I had no problems clothing-wise. I washed my face, made my bed and tamed my hair into its usual style before heading off to the kitchen for something edible.

Logan's always telling us not to eat before a training session, but I can't help it. I think it must be to do with my mutation or something, but I'm always hungry when I wake up, no matter what time it is. It could be the wee hours of the morning, and I'd still be hankering for something to eat.

Kurt was there when I arrived - when is he ever not near food? - sitting on the counter top like some kind of plush hood ornament. Of course, *he* didn't have a training session, just us newbies. He was still in his pyjamas; plates of breakfast piled high in both hands and watching some cartoon or other on the TV attached to the wall. He barely even noticed when I walked in, just gave me a wave and burbled something through his mouthful that could've been hello.

"You know, Ororo might not appreciate you putting footprints there," I commented idly, opening the fridge and looking out the plastic container of muffins I knew was somewhere towards the back.

Kurt swallowed, breaking his eyes away from the riveting sight of Dexter's Laboratory. "She'll only know about it if you tell her."

I shrugged, moving aside last night's cling-film covered lasagne. Where were - ah, there they were. I reached in and yanked out the box, sending a couple of Evan's calcium-enriched orange juices tumbling in the process. Recently he'd taken to visiting the special vegan store in town to supply his mutation in other ways after so many people complained about all the milk in the refrigerator going off and taking up space. I knew, because I'd been one of them.

I replaced the juice and retrieved my muffin, nibbling on it as I returned Kurt's stare.

"What's to say I won't tell her?"

"Would you honestly send someone this adorable to face the wrath of a weather witch?" He pulled his best puppy-dog eyes, the one he's been trying to wow Kitty with for over a year now, with little success.

I couldn't help but laugh at him, perched there with his waffles in one hand, eggs in the other and grease running down his chin. Kurt's one of the most loved X-Men, despite his demonic appearance. Those eyes of his could put infant canines the world over to shame, even though they're bright gold and glow in the dark.

"Not the look! Anything but the look!" I said, humouring him.

He grinned in that fangy way he does, tossing his head back. He hadn't brushed his hair yet, I noticed, but it hardly mattered. Can a guy look cute with fangs and pointed ears? Somehow, he manages to look huggable anyway. Not in a boy-girl, holding-hands-in-school kind of way, but in that I-want-to-make-a-plushie-doll-of-you-and-huggle-it kind.

"Ha *ha*! I am Spartacus!"

"Well, Spartacus, would you mind passing me the coffee?"

It's no secret that I need at least two cups of joe to wake up my reflexes enough that I'll survive a training session with Logan in the mornings, although I have to be careful about who used the coffee-maker last. If Mr. Sunshine's had it, then I might as well just go and chew a caffeine capsule, because all it'll produce for the next few rounds is economy grade sludge that not even *I* would venture trying. I did once, against my better judgement and the warnings given me. I couldn't sleep for three days and I'm still getting the gack off my tongue. Not a pleasant experience to say the least.

Luckily for me though, it seemed that Scott had been in here last. He and I share beverage intensity tastes, even though he makes fun of me for liking coffee. He says I'm too young. I tell him that I'm not going to get any older if I don't drink it and end up getting killed by a Danger Room sim because I'm half-asleep.

I poured a cup and munched my way through the muffin, watching cartoons with Kurt until finally I looked at the clock - watches are a definite no-no in the Danger Room unless you have an endless supply, or else they're of the indestructible variety - and sighed that I had to be going unless I wanted to be on clean-up detail for tardiness. He told me that it wouldn't be a first time, and I cuffed him upside the head so that he lost his balance and sat in the sink.

When I eventually trawled into the Danger Room, I was one of the last to arrive. Logan spared me a raised eyebrow, but didn't say anything. One of his better moods, I decided, and brightened a little. Perhaps he wouldn't be so tough on us today.

Can you say, 'wishful thinking'?

"OK, boys and girls, settle down," he growled when the last of us arrived. As per usual, Jubilee and Amara brought up the rear, Jubilee because she's never been on time for anything in her life and Amara because she doesn't *do* acting on other people's schedules.

I nudged Bobby, who was next to me and acting a pest, also as per usual. I think he might've been trying to impress Jubilee, but she hadn't noticed and Logan had. Bobby must not have been expecting me to do it, because he stumbled sideways into Jamie, who fell over and promptly multiplied.

"Hey!" three of him said, whilst the other four glared up from where they were sprawled on the floor.

"Icecube," Logan barked out. I don't think that man even knows *how* to speak normally. His usual voice is somewhere between a growl and a grunt, and the only variations come when he's screaming like a wild thing or just generally yelling at us. "You just volunteered to demonstrate."

Bobby gulped. "Demonstrate what, exactly?"

"This."

Logan gestured up at the control room where a big ball of blue fur hit a few buttons and sent the machines humming into life. Since I knew Kurt was in the kitchen, it could only have been Mr. McCoy, but he didn't wave or anything. In fact, he looked rather grumpy to be there. Apparently, mornings aren't his best time either.

Something about that made me feel a little better. Not much, but a little.

Behind Logan the Danger Room shimmered and changed, holograms coming into play and turning it into a simulation of a rocky mountaintop. I recognised it instantly from what some of the older kids had once said when we all seemed to be struck by insomnia and gather in the kitchen. This was one of Logan's favourites, and subsequently, one of the most difficult sims. I heard a few groans from others that'd done likewise.

See what I mean about that man being a sadist?

"The object," said Logan, stalking forwards and pointing, "Is to get these through the sim without any of 'em breakin' or gettin' damaged in any way. An' when I say any way, I mean *any* way." From under his arm, he held up the strange clear plastic box we'd all been straining to see since we got there.

Inside, held in place by an assortment of prongs and small round holes, were a dozen raw eggs.

"But... but that's impossible," said Sam. I nodded my agreement, as did many others. After all, Sam had grown up on a farm in Kentucky and spent most of his life milking cows and fetching chicken eggs. He should know how easy it was to transport them anywhere - or not, as the case may be. "Not with... with the sim running as well."

Logan arched his aerobic eyebrow. "An' just how would you know what else this sim entails, Farmboy?"

Sam blushed, cheeks turning a deep crimson. Other people might've thought it was because we're not supposed to know anything about these sims. The older kids would get into trouble if it were found out they'd been telling us shortcuts and things, and Sam's slip-of-the-tongue might've done just that. But I knew he was also blushing because he hated that nickname.

Logan had given it to him not long after he arrived, and since Sam was scared witless by him at that point, he hadn't argued. Still, it chafed at him that he was only known by where he'd come from and not who he was. Pigeonholed before he'd even finished unpacking his things. He'd once confided it to me on another insomniac night when we met in the hall and, rather than try to pass the time alone, retired to his room to talk and fritter it away together instead.

Sam looked up and caught my eye. I smiled what I hoped was a comforting smile, but he just blushed even deeper.

Hmm, I was going to have to work on my comforting look if it was getting that kind of reaction.

"Icecube!" Logan snapped us back to ourselves, and we all watched as Bobby moved sheepishly forward.

"Yes, sir?" He was using his best if-I'm-good-you-won't-trash-me-right? voice.

"You're gonna do a walk-through, no powers allowed, without the eggs, to show everyone what they're up against. First rule of any mission, know what you're gettin' yourself into."

Bobby walked up the narrow trail towards the peak with many a backward glance. Unlike some of us, Bobby sleeps like a log and had never been privy to the Danger Room secrets passed across the kitchen table at bumblefuck in the morning. We knew what was coming next. He didn't.

He didn't look happy to be up there in front of everyone, which was kind of ironic considering he's usually the first one to show off in any given situation. He loves to prove he's better than he is, which is why the Professor's reluctant to let him near anything remotely electric or mechanical. Especially after that whole joyriding thing when Lance was here. Yeesh. Jubilee tried to get me to go with them more than once, and seemed pretty upset when I refused. I know my limits, and both flying and driving are several miles above it. In the UK, I don't even qualify for a learner's permit yet.

All seemed quiet for a few minutes. We noticed it and so did Bobby. His step got a bit cockier, and still nothing happened. By the time he neared the summit, he was practically waltzing in that way that he does. Too bad he wasn't watching Logan.

I saw the little hand movement, the one Mr. McCoy must've been watching out for. Just a tiny flick of the wrist, and then suddenly a howling gale sprang up out of nowhere. Bobby yelped, the force of it nearly blowing him off his feet. It didn't help that, five seconds later, it started to rain. I'm not talking a little drizzle here. I mean it was lashing fit to burst, with bits of sleet and hail added in for good measure.

Bobby howled as loud as the wind, and I don't blame him. I've been out in storms like that, and let me tell you it's no fun. The rain's like a knife cutting your cheek, and after a few minutes of trying to battle through it, you start to wonder if you'll ever get warm again

He staggered around, and for a minute, it looked like he was going to turn back. Then he thought better of it, and struggled on, cresting the peak and disappearing from our collective view.

Logan grunted and pointed to a viewscreen Mr. McCoy had somehow lowered from the ceiling without us noticing. It crackled and fizzled to life, showed a mass of grey dots and squiggly lines for a moment, and then zoomed in through one of the video cameras peppering the Danger Room's on the image of Bobby, still gamely trying to make his way through the simulated storm. It was so severe, even on camera, that I had to wonder if Ororo was hiding somewhere and aiming her powers right at him. From his expression, he might've been thinking the same, only with more expletives.

We watched as Bobby stumbled, fell, and picked himself up again. His uniform was obviously soaked through, and though I couldn't hear it, I felt sure his feet must be slapping on the stone. My throat tightened with memories of being caught out in the open in a storm like that, and I had to remind myself that it was all just a hologram.

I don't care what anyone says. Sometimes these simulations are too real to be comfortable.

Trying not to think too much of it, I glanced across at the others and found to my surprise that Jubilee was looking my way. Everyone else was still enrapt with the miniature drama playing out on the screen, including Logan, and I was a little disconcerted to see that she wasn't also. It was no secret that Bobby was sweet on her. You'd think she'd show his predicament a bit more concern, or at least a passing interest.

She shuffled closer, and I inclined my head at the screen.

"Bet you wish you were out there with him," I whispered, hoping Logan wouldn't hear.

She frowned a little. "Why would I want to be out in that mess sooner than I have to be?"

"So you could warm him up." I waggled my eyebrows suggestively. Comforting smiles aren't my forte, but suggestive grins I can do.

Jubilee looked a little shocked at my words - it's funny, I never figured her for a prude or anything. Quite the opposite, in fact - but whatever it was she was about to say was lost as Bobby suddenly cried out and we snapped back to the screen, just in time to see him tumble down a crevasse.

A collective gasp went around the group. Well, what would you do if you just saw your default leader fall to what appeared to be his death? However, Logan didn't seem unduly bothered, and he waved up at Mr. McCoy, who shut off the simulation. The rain stopped, the wind died, and the rocky mountaintop faded away to become the Danger Room we all knew and loved to hate.

Bobby clambered off the crash mat and waddled towards us, dripping water. He moved, as my mother would say, like a pregnant duck. All floppery, each footstep a wet splat on the metal floor.

"You, have got," he said when we were in earshot, "To be kidding me."

"When have you ever known me to joke, kid?" Logan's question was a valid one, but didn't do much to comfort poor old soggy Bobby.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Ray snigger. It looked like Bobby was going to be hearing about this for quite some time if he and Roberto had anything to do with it. It's a little sad that the only time those two agree on something is when it's at the expense of others. The rest of the time they're at each other's throats, or at the very least trying to pummel the stuffing out of their respective kidneys.

"OK, everybody." Logan's voice was like a knell, and we all heaved a collective sigh. "Get ready. Beast, reboot and power up the sim again."

"Then can I go back to bed?" Mr. McCoy's voice was thin, like he really didn't see the joke in all of this. Can't say that I blame him.

Logan ignored him, instead turning to Roberto and thrusting the box of eggs into his hands. "You get dibs on this thing first, kid. It can change hands as many times as is necessary, but remember, if one of those eggs even gets so much as a hairline crack, you all fail. Same thing with using powers. Any one of you consciously uses 'em, you all fail. You all gotta learn how to get along using your brains and initiative instead of relying on your abilities all the time. I don't care how you do it, or how long it takes, so long as those eggs get over the finishin' line at the end of the sim intact. But remember, you all got school this mornin', too, so don't take all day about it. Just to boost you up a bit, if you *do* fail, then you'll all join me for another go this evening after school, an' we'll *keep* rerunnin' the sim until you *do* get it right."

"Oh joy," said the tannoy. Logan shot the control room a look.

"Ready?"

Jamie shooed the remaining copies of himself onto the bench, where they at grumbling until, one-by-one, they disappeared. The rest of us got into a line, including Bobby.

I waited, tensing my muscles. My eyes darted to where Logan's hand was raised above his head. We'd all done enough training sessions with him to know that, when he dropped his arm, that was the signal to start. He'd never said as such, but somehow we'd all just known the day we arrived that he'd rely more on bodily movements than words. I guess that's just the kind of guy he is.

I watched as the fans in the walls began to turn, and the holographic mountainside turned back on. A long trail stretched before us, rather narrow and bordered by outcrops and boulders bigger than we were. The Danger Room almost hummed with all of our pent-up energy, and ever-eager Roberto practically champed at the bit to get going.

Logan smirked at us. He knew this wasn't going to be easy.

He dropped his hand, for the first time verbalising that we should move.

"Go!"
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