Okie peoples, getting into a little bit darker stuff at the end of this one – sensitive subject warning. More Logan, more Scott though =0) Thanks to Katherine, Neva, Dingotheque, WildWolvieGirl, and the two anonymous people for reviewing the last chapter, I wub you lol, I'm gonna go update the website with pictures, cuz I've got some of Scott that'll fit at the end (Don't wanna give anything away g) That's all for now, please review!

"You go in first."

"What?! You're the teacher!"

"Please, I'm too embarrassed."

"And I'm too blotchy. Just go in, sheesh, you're such a baby."

Jean scowled and finally pushed open the door to the Staff Room and dragged me in behind her. It was empty.

"See, nothing to be afraid of, no one to bite you." I chided her, giggling.

"Darn." She grinned and wiggled her eyebrows. I laughed and pushed her all the way inside. I'd only see a glimpse of the back wall when Rogue and I had come earlier, so I took my time in examining the room from top to bottom. The floor and skirting were all the same, regal dark oak as the rest of the mansion. The place boasted old money ownership and upper class residents. It was like visiting one of the old Victorian mansions in England, something straight out of a Jane Austin novel. The walls were painted pale yellow, and kitchen counters lined the wall next to the door. There was a sink, and a refrigerator, and a small stove and flat hob. All very modern, and clean. In the corner there was a stereo, and three tall stacks of CDs. Under the window that was opposite the door was a table, covered in a bright chequered cloth, surrounded by five plastic chairs.

"Looks like students are allowed to keep food in here." Jean remarked, her head in the fridge. Chocolate, chocolate and yet more chocolate occupied the shelves, all labelled with various pupils names: Scott, Kitty, Bobby, Ben, and Jason, my fellow chocoholics.

The door opened next to us and we both turned to stare at the newcomer. I glared and gave him the cold shoulder, I was very angry with my math teacher and wasn't about to let him think I wasn't.

"Hi, um.." He mumbled and edged around Jean; I could hear his footsteps on the floor and Jean giggling quietly. "Angela, I'm really sorry. That was a stupid thing to do, I thought you'd find it funny, but it wasn't and I'm sorry. I couldn't think of another way to get you to use your powers. Sorry." He rambled, right behind me. He was quite cute really, all sheepish, like a puppy who had an accident on the carpet. I started giggling too and turned around to face him.

"Alright, you're forgiven." I said, trying not to laugh. I had visions of him cocking his leg in the corner. Bad Mr. Summers! I gave him and started laughing harder, then looked up to see his expression and turned from pleading to almost horrified, but amused at the same time. "Sorry, strange thoughts." I apologized.

"Yeah, you're projecting them."

"I'm what?" I asked. Projecting did not sound good.

"You're projecting your thoughts, it's hard not to pick them up." He explained, starting to grin himself.

"Oh, God, you saw -?"

"Yep." He nodded, "bad puppy."

"Oh holy Jesus." I hissed, running past him into Jean's awaiting arms. She was laughing, hard, and I thumped her arm. Mr. Summers was laughing too.

"I'm Jean." She said, extending a hand towards my Math teacher. The gruff guy from earlier entered, pushing the door open wide and striding through it, taking just one quick glance at the three of us before settling himself in a chair and lighting up a cigar.

"Scott. I take it you're our new resident doctor?" He said, taking her hand and squeezing it gently instead of shaking it.

"And geneticist." Jean nodded.

"Finally, a doctor I wouldn't mind getting a physical from." The gruff man growled suggestively. Jean smiled and raised her eyebrows at him, looking him over. He seemed to lean back further to give her a better view of his well-built form.

"Jean, Logan. Logan, Jean." Mr. Summers introduced them, rolling his eyes.

"Nice to meet you Logan, we'll have to see about that physical." Jean said. The flirt.

"Looking forward to it." Logan said, growling again. The man was half beast. I looked back to Mr. Summers, he looked jealous! His eyes flicked back to me and I realised I'd been projecting my thoughts again. I thought 'Sorry' at him, and he nodded in acceptance.

"And what about you, Scott? Fancy a quick physical?" Jean asked, barely keeping a straight face.

"Anytime." Mr. Summers said, trying vainly to flirt back but not quite making it. His ears had gone a little redder than before, bless. I think he would have been more comfortable had one of his students not been in the room, hugging his crush nonetheless.

"Well boys, must be going." Jean said, still holding me with her and dragging us both through the door and out of the room. Once out of hearing range she burst out laughing. "That was fun."

I laughed at her, "I don't know, Mr. Summers didn't seem to think so."

"He's a cutie pie, a little young though." She grinned.

"He's just as old as you are." I said, he must be 28 or so, and so must she.

"I'm 29. He's about 22, 23 at the most."

"Nuh – uh. He's way older." I argued.

"No, believe me. He's young, look at his eyes."

~

That night, I called my mum. I tried to stay angry with her for leaving me here, but all that flew out the window when I heard her voice over the phone. She missed me as much as I missed her, and said so several times. I told her all about the mansion and my classes, and my teachers. I left out the bit with the truck, I felt quite stupid for getting so worked up over it. I told her I was fine at dinner, sitting with Rogue and Jubilee and Kitty, how I was almost falling for both Bobby and John.

"Yeah, no it was so funny at dinner, I was listening to Rogue and Jubes talking and I looked up to see this guy, Bobby, was staring at me, so I asked him why and he said 'Just watched a beautiful British chick out of her natural habitat.' I mean, it's lame, but it made me laugh. British chick. They've both – Bobby and John – started calling me that now."

After dinner though, I felt quite alone. They all had far more homework than I from classes I hadn't been to yet, and Jean had disappeared off the face of the earth, so I went alone to my room to leave them to study. My mum didn't need to hear that though, so I went on to tell her about the X-men.

"Anyway, I think the Individual Training is geared towards the X-men, they've only got three people on the team so far."

"Angi, I don't think I want you getting involved with that, okay? Too dangerous for my girl." My mum said.

"Ha, I didn't even think about it. I don't want to be an X-woman mum, I don't do well with getting my ass kicked."

"Promise me, I'm all worried now. I don't want them sending you off to some Friends of Humanity base and getting killed."

"They won't! I'd stamp my foot and say no very forcefully."

We hung up after two hours; she'd stayed up until 3 a.m. to talk to me. I didn't register the time difference when I called, but she was five hours ahead of me.

It was ten o'clock; everyone was in their rooms asleep. The hall outside my room was dark, no light shone under the door. I lay in my cold foreign bed, unable to sleep, it was too dark, and it felt too strange not having a hug goodnight from my mum. I tried to remind myself I was seventeen, I shouldn't need my mum anymore, but it didn't work. This place was strange and impersonal at night, weird shadows of what I knew were trees danced in my window, but they looked eerily like bad spirits or axe murderers. The wind howled.

My tummy gurgled, I'd left my stash of chocolate in the Staff Room and I need some nibble on until I fell asleep. Everyone must be asleep by eleven; it was too quiet for them not to be. And if there was someone down there, the mansion was so big chances were I'd never see them. I decided to risk a midnight trip down to the ground floor in search of chocolate; I wasn't getting to sleep anytime soon.

I pulled on a pair of socks and an old baggy sweater over my pyjama bottoms and skinny strap t-shirt. I stubbed my toe on the edge of my suitcase as I felt my way to the door, and hissed obscenities at it in the darkness. The door creaked a little as I opened it, and tiptoed out onto the landing. My heart thudded in my chest, which was stupid because I wouldn't have gotten in trouble had I been found, but still, it was a strange house with strange people in it.

The stairs were creepy in the dark; several groaned as trod on them and passed on to their neighbour. The stairs opened up to face the front door, the dining hall and staff room were there to my left, and the rec room was next to them. The library I'd met Jean in was on my right. I padded softly through the still hall, the ceiling high above me, the wind making the trees scrape against the long windows. I giggled; I'd always wanted to fly.  I'd always dreamt of doing a running leap and not touching the ground a second later in the dining hall at my old school. I was in an enclosed space, no worries of floating off into the nether regions of the sky. My walking sped up, the thump of my socked feet on the wooden floor growing louder, and leaped. The ground fell away and I stared down at it, flicking my head forward and making my legs follow to do a full front flip in mid-air. Then I landed as softly as I'd taken off, adrenaline pumping, and continued on to the staff room.

My Cadbury's Buttons were exactly where I'd left them; small little discs of milk chocolate hidden within a royal purple packet. I liked them chilled so they cracked when I bit into them. Grinning contentedly as I shut the fridge door, I popped a couple in my mouth and headed out, back into the hall. I threw one high into the air and jumped, floating, to catch it in my mouth. My power was finally fun!

I reached the staircase, but something made me stop. A faint sound of singing, and guitar floating in from the rec room, and I simply had to investigate. Dropping a few more buttons into my mouth, I frowned and tip toed gently over to the rec room door. Yes, someone was definitely singing in there, and accompanying themselves with a guitar. The singing stopped and I heard low talking; two people were in there! It must have been the time of night, or maybe the chocolate, that made me tentatively open the door and peek inside.

"We just walked around the lake, nothing happened. Believe me. We just talked."

"I don't know why ya jus' didn't press her up against a tree and –"

"Because I like her more than that! Besides, she doesn't feel the same."

"Cuz she's fallen for me, the manly one.

"Whatever. She's too good for either of us."

They were talking about Jean! I squeaked, and clamped a hand to my mouth. I saw Logan's ears prick up. Two pairs of eyes, one blue and young, the other dark brown roofed by bushy eyebrows turned to stare back at me. Logan had a guitar tucked under one arm and a beer resting on the couch's arm. Mr. Summers was wearing old faded jeans, and a black t-shirt. The air of authority was gone, and Jean was right, he was young.

"What are you doing up?" Mr. Summers asked me, not angry, just curious.

"Couldn't sleep. Needed chocolate." I said, holding up the packet to show him.

"My kind of girl." He chuckled, "Care to join us?"

I was surprised at the invitation, but happy, so I went in and sat on the floor, leaning against the couch, next to my teacher.

"So, Mr. Summers – "

"You can call me Scott outside class." He interrupted

"Alright, Scott" I said in a mock American accent, "What are you two still doing up?"

"It's only midnight, kid." Logan said. I realized his voice was naturally low and rumbling, remotely resembling a growl.

"It's a school night, man."

He snorted and took a swig of his beer. "We're having our nightly sing along."

I got visions of Logan on the Barney show, clapping and singing along with the big purple dinosaur, skipping around the outside jungle gym, leading a group of kids through the swings and down the slide. Scott snorted and coughed when he got a glare from Logan. Note to self: ask Scott how to stop projecting thoughts.

"I've fixed those couple bars, its D major then F sharp, distorted." Said Logan, strumming idly on his guitar. It was a beautiful instrument, a Levin Cello Guitar coloured in various shades of brown all swirling around the body. The 'F' holes rolled elegantly beside the strings. It showed signs of use though, like he'd had it for years, there were a few scratches and the frets were worn, but he'd taken great care of it. He started to play the opening riffs of a song, twiddling quickly; I watched his fingers move with fascination. Then Scott started to sing, in a voice that sounded like he had to make it scratchy, that naturally it would be as pure as a boy soprano. He sang soulfully, pouring his heart into the words. I watched astounded.

Please come now I think I'm falling
I'm holding to all I think is safe
It seems I found the road to nowhere
And I'm trying to escape
I yelled back when I heard thunder
But I'm down to one last breath
And with it let me say
Let me say

Hold me now
I'm six feet from the edge and I'm thinking
That maybe six feet
Ain't so far down


I'm looking down now that it's over
Reflecting on all of my mistakes
I thought I found the road to somewhere
Somewhere in His grace
I cried out heaven save me
But I'm down to one last breath
And with it let me say
Let me say


Logan bashed out the cords here, he'd need an electric guitar to pull it off properly. And Scott had his eyes screwed tight, waving a clenched fist in time with the beat, throwing the full power of his voice behind the lyrics.


Hold me now
I'm six feet from the edge and I'm thinking
That maybe six feet
Ain't so far down


Hold me now
I'm six feet from the edge and I'm thinking
That maybe six feet
Ain't so far down

Sad eyes follow me
But I still believe there's something left for me
So please come stay with me
'Cause I still believe there's something left for you and me
For you and me
For you and me

Hold me now
I'm six feet from the edge and I'm thinking…


Hold me now
I'm six feet from the edge and I'm thinking
That maybe six feet
Ain't so far down

He repeated the chorus again, and Logan let the last note hold for a few seconds, then the mood lifted and it felt like the room itself sighed, Scott grinned and Logan smirked and took another swig of his beer.

"Yeah, nice fix." Scott said to Logan.

I wondered which one had written the lyrics.

~

Logan left at about one a.m. and I was still wide eyed and jumpy, so Scott and I decided to put on a movie and settle ourselves down on the couches. I bagged the one across from the TV; he took the one perpendicular to me. We watched 'Swordfish' which I'd seen before, and I felt myself falling asleep just fifteen minutes into it.

Two years. Two years I'd lived with them. They were my sixth foster home in seven years, and I'd stayed with them the longest. The first I'd been happy with. They didn't hit me, they didn't yell or scream, they sent me to school with new clothes and money for lunch, hell, they even hugged me, told me how glad they were to have me there.

But no more, a three-day suspension was to end all that. A suspension I didn't deserve, that I'd gotten simply by sticking up for myself against a gang of five bigger guys. Two were knocked unconscious when they flew into the school's brick outer wall, two more had gotten concussions when the truck of those trees smacked them in the back of the head, the fifth ran to tell the authorities what a freak I was.

And now I was leaving this place of warmth and kindness, the only place I'd know like that since my parents died. They didn't want a mutant in their household; the suspension was their excuse. They didn't want a troublemaker, but that was a lie. I was to go back to the social services and get passed around the system again, home to home, family to family, beating to beating. It'd fuck up my education again, the files wouldn't get transferred properly and I'd be stuck a freshman for the next three years. Then I'd get kicked out of public education to become homeless because I didn't have any qualifications.

I'd never meet a girl and fall in love, never make a family with her, never have that picture perfect house with the white picket fence. God, if these people could like me one day and spit on me the next, so could the rest of the world. I was a lost cause, meaningless, useless, a waste of space. Life isn't worth living if you don't mean anything to anyone.

The first cut hurt, it burned, but it felt oddly exhilarating. I watched in morbid fascination as my blood bubbled over my wrist and trickled down my arm. I made cut after cut, ignoring the pain, giggling manically to myself, then started on my other wrist. My head got light and I felt woozy, sick, I swallowed and leaned heavily back against the wall and watched my blood drain away. My vision went blurry…stars and spots flickered in front of my eyes…I welcomed the darkness…

Another home, another family, another beating taking place. They should've let me die because I'd rather be dead than take this again. His fists beat down upon me like a hailstorm, his boots kicked my sides, cracking my ribs, I couldn't breathe. I didn't want this anymore! Why didn't they just let me go? Why keep another worthless orphan on this earth? I choked, tears staining my face, I tried to fight back but he was so big, and so very angry, the pain was intense. Air was forcing its way out of my lungs with every brutal pounding, and not returning. Oh god, the pain…

I gasped, choking on my own spit, wiping tears to clear my eyesight. That dream wasn't me, those memories weren't mine, and I hadn't experienced that pain. I didn't have scars on my wrists. I was shaking, and the tears on my eyelids shone in the light from the television. I worked to slow my breathing and stop the tremors; I'd never had such a dream.

A muffled cry made me jump and remember the other person in the room. Scott was beating the cushions of the couch weakly, he was crying too, recoiling from invisible kicks and punches, he screamed but his voice was gone. I rolled clumsily off the couch and scrambled over the carpet to his side, another wave of pain washed over me, making me feel sick to my stomach.

"Scott! Wake up, c'mon, please, wake up wake up wake up." I pleaded, sobbing at the same time. Another wash of agony, misery. He wouldn't awake.

"Scott! Please." I tapped his face, patted his cheeks, not wanting to slap him because he was already suffering. I shook his shoulders vainly, but he was too far-gone. His whimpers, the hitch in his breath, made my heart beak. It made me cry more. I grabbed one his wrists as it thrashed hopelessly, I tried to hold him down, maybe then he'd wake up. His forearms were large; a couldn't get my hand all the way around it, and tanned, masculine, but in this state he looked like a little boy, not the man he'd grown up to be. There were scars across his wrist, a few raised and lighter than the rest of his skin, a few more fainter.

I'd gotten a glass of water before we put the movie on, and now I grabbed it and threw it in my teachers face.

He sat up with a start, choking and gasping, shaking harder than I had been, still crying. He looked around wildly, coughing, wiping the water out of his eyes, and then he saw me.

"Angi?" Without warning he got up off the couch and started pacing around the rec room, rubbing and scraping the back of his neck, grasping at his face, hugging himself. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, God! I – Jesus Christ – I'm so sorry." He spluttered. Then he stopped and stared back to me, "How much did you see?"

"Enough." He'd stopped moving; the shoulders I thought were so broad and strong sagged, broken.

"Only Xavier knows." He whispered, a shiver shaking his body. One more tear ran down his face and his breathe hitched twice, and I couldn't stand any more. I got up and wrapped him in my arms, pulling his head to my shoulder and stroking it, wrapping my other arm around his shoulders. He tensed, dead, then sagged against me, letting me comfort him.

"Shhhh..shhhhh" I whispered in his ear, rocking gently, "You're safe now."

Please please please review! The song is Creed, One Last Breath