Hey everyone who might possibly be still reading this. No, cyberspace did not devour me, nor was my body ravaged by angry x-men who wished my death for writing this fic.

My muse ran off with another. I was away. From the Internet. Case closed. Ahem. SCHOOL!!!!!!

I DO NOT OWN THE X-MEN. (Yeah, they all belong to my cats…I am merely their keeper…)

Chapter 9

Now that school was starting, at least Sarah had something with which to occupy her mind. Her thoughts could, for the meager six hours that she was in the house of learning, relinquish their grip that they had on the dark gravestone-filled room. SOMEONE still knew about the morlocks and mourned their death…for SOMEONE had taken the time to bury each body and write an epitaph. For that reason alone, there had to be someone still alive who had known the morlocks, and still mourned their deaths: and Marrow WOULD find them.

Dragging her attention up from the literature book that she held in her hand, she counted the seconds until the class would end. No homework had been assigned as of yet.

Three…

Two…

One…

"Please write in your agendas that chapters nine through seventeen need to be read by first block Monday."

Cursing inwardly, Sarah rose from her seat, and judging by the looks on her fellow x-men's faces, they were none to happy about the assignment either. It being a Friday, there was absolutely NO WAY that Logan was going to let any of them out of the Danger Room until late on Sunday night. But hey, it was last block. Marrow could relish her last hour of school-time freedom before returning home to the mansion to rip tendons.

Humming dejectedly, she walked down the hall to math class, a fresh set of books clutched against her chest. The hallways were buzzing with people: normal people, who didn't worry about being ripped to shreds by a stray laser beam later that same evening. People who had only to worry about doing their homework, and possibly baby-sitting to raise enough money to buy that new c-d. Humans.

Now walking with a definite stride of depression, she flung wide the math class door, and picked her mask of false cheeriness out of the bag. No-one saw through it. No-one ever did.

Gambit was worried. Sarah looked pleasant and easy going enough right now, but he could not forget the pained look on her face as she had looked up at him that night, her hands and clothes stained with her own blood. The whole memory was crimson, absolutely painted with the thick liquid. Every detail from that horrible moment was vivid in Remy's mind, the way that the moon had shone through the window and struck her face, splitting it into two visible personalities: the light and the dark. The way that the moon had shone through that window and struck the granite headstones that he came down every week to mourn over. The headstones that he himself had erected.

Sarah stared at the figures that were appearing on the board in a sullen silence. They were indefinitely going to have homework on this material, so paying attention would be most helpful.

The teacher walked around handing out a worksheet, and no words were needed to say that this was to be completed by next block. One glance made Sarah stuff it in her bag, in hopes that somehow the material that she had supposedly absorbed would resurface somewhere between now and Monday in the form of the answers to this sheet.

"Hey…Sarah," yelled Rogue from across the hall, motioning at her. She took into account that Gambit was also waiting for her, arms crossed as if he had something on his mind.

Sarah knew better than to ask.

"Hey Gumbo. 's tha matta with y'all today. Y'all are bein' a total space case!"

Gambit smiled, seeming to shake off his disturbing worried face, and replacing it with one of feigned cheerfulness. Only Marrow could tell that it was fake, but she didn't say a word. If there was anything that she could understand, it was a problem. (a/n …You could say that about most of us fanfic writers, eh?)

Ignoring Rogue's comment, Remy greeted Sarah with cheerfulness woven expertly into his voice.

Maybe it's not a façade…maybe he REALLY likes me…

"Chere? Gambit say does de pinhead want to go back to de mansion?"

Sarah's lips twisted into a faint smile, and she looked up at Gambit, her head reprimanding her for even THINKING that way. No-one could ever love her: she was merely a freak. A mutant: not worthy enough to walk on the same filth and dirt as the normals.

"Yep. Let's go bust some serious butt with Logan."

Rogue laughed in a most un-Roguelike way, not suited to her usual character at all. For people who actually KNEW Sarah, not just were acquainted, she most indefinitely brought out the best in them.

Marrow's POV (a/n: sorry! The story has to get written SOMEHOW…)

I had the dream again tonight. The screams…shadows of screams…the echoing, reaching the furthest reaches of my mind. The subway PAINTED with blood, like a sick artist gone crazy. The telepaths in the house all went crazy:

"How long have you been having this dream?" so on, and so forth. Jean and the professor spent the rest of the night analyzing the hell out of this situation. Finally, they came to the conclusion, that it was triggered by something from my past. Hellooooooo…Mr. And Ms. Obvious stiiiirrrriike! Not to say I wasn't grateful, mind you…just not in an…'open' sort of way. The professor is trying to find out exactly WHAT happened that night. Who led the butchers down into the tunnels to kill my people. I say when they find the sick bastard, I carve his organs out in alphabetical order.

Gambit's POV:

Gambit hate what he done to her. What he reduce her to. Sarah; de don't-mess-with-me-or-get-your-ass-whooped independent femme. Wit'out de independence. Gambit jus' need to find a way to let her know…what happen down in those tunnels…she was jus' a little girl…she can't 've known…or seen…

A/n: that's where I have to leave it for now, 'cause any more, and the next chapter wouldn't have any purpose. Gee: don't you HATE when that happens? *sobs* Sees muse attempting a getaway.

"Oh, no you don't!"

Okee…I'm going crazy. Please review the NICE crazy person…she needs at least thirty to continue.