AN: So this one and the next one are a bit short. Hey, is Laurel considered a Mary-Sue? I haven't done much of this. What exactly is a Mary-Sue?

Kurt was feeling more than a little apprehensive as they stopped. He had never traveled far from the circus itself, and even in the midst of these strange other mutants, he worried about what other people would say. To his surprise, the other people inside only gave him a few odd looks, and went back to what they were doing. He tapped Laurel on the shoulder as she took the room keys. "What is this place?"

"It's a mutant hostel," she said, nodding at someone who passed them in the hallways. "Most everyone here is a mutant, either from around the general area, or traveling on vacation. There are quite a few places like this if you know where to look."

"And Laurel always know where to look," interjected Sybil. Her grasp of German was just as shaky as Distort's, but she had a little better control of her accent. Laurel stuck out her tongue at the other girl, and handed Kurt a key. "You guys' room is right next to ours. Tomorrow we should go shopping-you're going to need some things if we're to move on."

The next morning he heard a knock at the door. Rolling out of bed, he glanced over to Distort. Even inside, the younger man's locks of blue moved gently as in a wind. He opened the door a crack. Laurel stood outside, munching on a bagel. "Come on," she said. "Let's go." He slid on the trench coat from yesterday over his normal clothes: a long-sleeved shirt and pair of jeans. Turning the lapels up, he wished that he had his hat. Laurel handed him a bagel and hooked her arm in his. As they left, the Sybil slid by them and into the room. Kurt glanced at her as the door shut. "Are they…?"

"Dating? Yup," Laurel said cheerfully. "I admit, I'm a hopeless matchmaker. I like to see everyone with an ideal mate."

"Is there one for everyone?" he asked, thinking there could be no one for him. He never even had someone return his attentions.

"Uh-huh." She smiled at a man walking by them with skin more gray than brown.

"For you?" he pressed. Her unwavering demeanor flickered a bit as her lips tightened.

"Yes," she said shortly. They entered the common room again and her face perked up. "Come on," she said, suddenly cheerful again as she pulled him closer to the desk. "Hey Max," she called to the deskman. "Can we check out the Lost and Found?"

"Sure, Mimic," the clerk said, giving her a friendly smile. "Who's your friend?"

"This is Kurt," she said, pawing through the large box that was set on the counter. "We're traveling together for a bit. Kurt, this is Max. He runs the joint."

Kurt offered one of his three-digited hands rather shyly. Max grinned at him and shook it heartily. Kurt suddenly felt himself grow lighter. He glanced down at his toes. He was floating nearly an inch off the ground!

"Cool it, Max," Laurel said, coming up with a broad-rimmed hat in her hands. Max, completely unabashed, released Kurt's hand and he felt himself land rather heavily on the floor. She handed the hat to Kurt and frowned at the owner. "Don't mind him. That's his mutation: he can make things less dense. He loves to show off."

"There's nothing wrong with a good sense of the theatrical," Kurt replied, suddenly heartened. Max's grin grew even wider, and he winked at the younger man.

"Men," was all Laurel said, but she smiled too as Kurt flipped his hat on his head and they headed out the door.

"So what can Distort and the Sybil do?" Kurt asked as they wandered through the large shopping center. Laurel had a cart with a toothbrush and comb in it so far. She browsed the various kinds of soap.

"Hmm? Oh. Well, Distort's from Japan. His Japanese code-name was something like Wind Bender, or something. Not everything translates. So as opposed to just Bender, he keeps on Distort. He's got a strange way with the air currents around him…he can shape them to do certain things. He can wrap himself in air to protect him-that's why he really doesn't need a helmet when riding the bike-and if he concentrates he can sort of cloak himself to appear invisible. He's got some pretty high-tech training-there were some martial arts masters that were able to help him over in Japan."

"Why is he here?"

"Well, I met up with him in Egypt. He had just finished a sojourn across the winds of the Sahara. He really liked it. Shortly after that we picked up the Sybil."

"What can she do?"

"Her mutation is much less, ah, definite than most of the ones I've come across. While most people have what they refer to as 'intuition' or a 'sixth sense', she's really got one. It comes on her in flashes; if she sees something that is important, she'll have a kind of mental vision of the future. If she really concentrates, she can get it more focused, like on a specific thing or person, or sometimes even the past. But it's rather random. So while we were discussing prophets and oracles, she picked up the name Sybil, which were people who prophesized for the Greeks."

"Like Apollo's Oracle at Delphi," Kurt mused. Laurel looked at him bemusedly. He caught her look and smiled. "I have had much education," he said, but somehow she got the feeling that there was a lot to this elf-man that she didn't know. "Max called you by another name," he said. "I thought your nickname was Xerox."

"I've got a few," she replied. "I've been around a bit, and sometimes it's useful to have a few names."

"Have you traveled much, then?" he asked. "You know many people, it seems."

Laurel worried her lower lip a little. "Yes, I have traveled much."

Kurt glanced at her, and she looked away, trying to focus on the shopping. "What are you looking for?" he asked quietly.

"Shampoo," she said lightly, but he would not be dissuaded. Finally she sighed and paused, leaning against a shelf. "I'm looking for a friend," she said. "It's been nearly fourteen years since I've seen him. I searched all over the states for him, and couldn't find him. He's good with blending in, but not that good, I thought. So I've been widening my contacts in other countries."

"Fourteen years?" Kurt stuttered. "You started looking when you were six or seven?"

At this she smiled again. "I'm quite a bit older than people give me credit for," she said humorously. "I'm nearly forty. I was twenty-three when we were separated. It's-it's another mutation that I've absorbed. I don't age."

"Uh." She could see him trying to cope with the boulder she dropped.

"Kurt, just think of me as a rather mature twenty-three-year old. It's not how old you are, it's how old you feel, right?"

He gulped, and nodded. "Ja. What about your friend? How do you know what he looks like after all these years?"

"He doesn't change very much, either," she said. "Have you seen anyone in your travels? He speaks English, Spanish, and Chinese; at least he did last time I knew him. He'll have rather wild dark hair, fairly short: only a little taller than I am, and built on the stocky side. He's gruff and rather prickly, but he's a good man all the same."

Kurt thought hard for a second, then shook his head. "Nein. Sorry. What is his name?"

"Logan. Logan Contreras."

"What???"

eeep! don't hate me! I made up Logan's last name all by myself.