Disclaimer: Not mine, apart from Siannagh and Salla.

------o(O)o------

Rogue made her way to her room and pulled a comb through her hair. Checking her make-up was still firmly applied, she walked into the corridors and looked around. There was one door a tad ajar. Childish shrieks were drifting towards her from it and once again, family pangs twitched in her stomach. She pushed them down once more and approached the door.

With her protectively gloved hands, she knocked on the door. She could see a woman on all fours chasing a little curly-haired girl around. Both of them were laughing and the young child kept tumbling onto her belly. When she heard the knock, Siannagh instantly leapt to her feet and brushed down the material of her clothes.

"Can I help you?" Siannagh asked, looking curiously at Rogue, whose eyes had widened dramatically. After waiting for a minute, Siannagh spoke again, as Rogue was still stood there obviously dumbstruck. "Is something the matter?"

"I recognise you," she announced. "Have we met?"

"No, I don't think so…"

Without another word, Rogue sprinted back to her own room to think. With a second of confusion, Siannagh ignored the tugging child at her trousers. With a mild sigh she turned back into the room, shutting the door behind her.

-------o(O)o-------

I recognise her, Rogue thought. I've seen her before, but where?

Rogue settled down on her bed, legs folded beneath her. She pulled a pile of paper out of her bag to start on her English essay, but didn't pick up a pen.

Suddenly, in a flash of understanding, she realised the memories that tweaked her mind of the new girl were not her own. They belonged to someone she had touched, someone she had taken the life force out of momentarily with her mutant touch. With a clarity so thin and frail she feared to breathe and cloud it, she realised whose memories she was seeing. Mystique's.

So she has met Mystique, she guessed. Recently, too, otherwise the memory would be too dark. But when, how and why? Perhaps…No, that wasn't possible.

With a shake of her head, she dismissed the thoughts, and began writing with a silver pen from her bag.

-------o(O)o-------

"Stop staring at me!" Logan growled, glaring daggers at Ororo and Xavier who had taken seats across the room from him again. He was not in the best of moods after the Aqua incident, and their incessant staring wasn't improving that. "What?"

"Nothing," said Xavier. He spoke quickly so as to block the words that threatened to fall out of Ororo's mouth any minute. Logan quirked an eyebrow at the expression on the white-haired woman's face, as if she had just caught a whiff of rotten milk.

"Have I done something to displease you?" he asked, his voice drained of goodness, full of sarcasm and venom.

"Wolverine, we have to talk to you," Ororo said. Oh dear, thought Logan, 'Wolverine'? I must be in trouble. A smirk tainted his face. "What are you smiling at?"

"Nothing."

"Did you rape Siannagh?" Ororo asked, her voice almost as venomous as Logan's, and Logan had more practice. Charles Xavier was concerned, such shows of intense emotion were not common in Storm. She was latching on to the little girl, Salla, he suspected.

"Nothing like the direct approach."

"Did you?"

"No," he said, his voice low but honestly bemused. "Why?"

"Siannagh, or Aqua, seemed a bit perturbed by your prescence yesterday," Xavier said. He didn't want Siannagh getting into trouble with a clawed man such as this. "We know she was raped. We had to ask."

"I ain't never raped anyone," he growled. "Been spreading that around, has she?"

"No."

"Why not read my mind, Charles?" said Logan, a scowl deeply etched on his face. The sarcasm was so thick it ran like treacle through his tones. "Why not see for yourself? You should know I would never do that to a woman."

"All possibilities must be discussed."

"I didn't rape her."

And with that, he stormed out of the room better than Ororo ever could.