Author's Note: All talk, no action. It had to happen. But it's hopefully going to pick up soon.

Chapter Nine

The library of the Xavier School was exactly what you would expect – a large, high-ceilinged room on the ground floor, panelled and shelved in century-old oak. In the Professor's youth, the shelves had been filled with leather-bound tomes, mostly bought in bulk by ancestors who regarded an impressive library as another status symbol. Since turning his home into a school, however, the majority of these texts had been moved out in favour of books more relevant to forty hormonal teenagers studying against the possibility of college entry.

The room as it stood was still large, and fitted out in oak. The furnishings had been expanded to include a large number of extremely comfortable armchairs, though, and the shelves had been re-stocked with academic textbooks and an almost absurdly large fiction section. As a result of extensive lobbying by certain members of the student body, this included two shelves of cheap romance novels.

Like the school in general, though, the most interesting part of the library was kept hidden.

Kurt pushed Xavier into the library ahead of him, glancing round to reassure himself that they were alone. As it turned out, they were not.

'Rogue?' Xavier said gently.

The girl was curled up in one of the chairs near the back of the room, looking like a tight ball of misery.

Xavier did not make a habit of reading people's thoughts, but sometimes people broadcast. With Rogue, you could never be sure whether or not it was accidental.

'Go away.' He heard clearly in his mind, even as she responded, 'Yes, Professor?' She looked round, but did not uncurl.

'What's the matter?' He asked.

'Nothing.' She replied.

'Rogue.' Gently chiding. She looked up.

'Really, Professor, it's nothing.' Nothing that's your business, was the clear implication.

Xavier wasn't going to read her mind. But he was an intelligent man, and he had eyes.

'I take it Faith is not settling in as smoothly as might have been hoped?'

'She's been settling in, alright.' Rogue snapped back, before subsiding.

'… I see. Kurt, if you would…' The blue-skinned mutant wheeled Xavier across to Rogue's chair. The Professor gripped the push-rims, and turned himself to face a certain spot in the oak panelling.

'Rogue, ' he said, 'I would appreciate it if you would be discreet about the entrance to the stack.' He reached up, and pressed carefully. Before the surprised gazes of Rogue and Kurt, a section of wall, six feet high and four feet wide, shifted slightly inward and slid aside, revealing a small room.

'Kurt, this lift will take you straight down.' Xavier said. 'You'll find enough books left out to get started. Do you read Latin?'

'Yes.'

'I will join you in a short while, then.' Kurt bowed deeply to Rogue, and then stepped into the lift. As the door slid closed, Xavier turned to the young woman.

'You know, Marie, in fifteen years as a teacher you are absolutely the most problematic student I have yet encountered.' The girl looked up in him in astonishment.

'Why?'

'Because, once upon a time, in Jerusalem, I met a man called Erik, who never forgave himself for the lives he could not save.'

The briefing done, Scott had ordered Faith and Logan to hit the showers. Faith had briefly considered sneaking in to the men's locker room to see if fighting was the only thing Logan was good at, but a little thought had led her to the conclusion that this might be a bad idea. Instead, she had taken her time, luxuriating in a shower that had all the hot water, soap, and above all privacy that she could want, before dressing in the Xavier Institute sweats that waited for her and heading out.

She found Logan waiting for her in the corridor.

'Hey.' She said. He grunted in response.

Faith paused. She'd just beaten the crap out of this guy. On the other hand, he'd done a fair bit of damage back, and right now he looked to be in slightly better shape than she was.

'Are we cool?' She asked, after a moment.

'Yeah.' He replied. 'Walk with me.' He turned, heading towards the elevator. Faith fell in beside him, moving fast to keep up.

'This guy told me once there were two kinds of people in the world.' Logan said after a moment. 'There's people like Summers, and there's people like me, and you. There's the humans, and there's the animals.' Faith looked up.

'What…'

'I stabbed him in the stomach, left him in the snow.' Logan did not look at her. 'There were more important things going on.' They had reached the elevator, and stopped to wait. 'Point is, he was wrong. Yeah, I could be called an animal. But there's lots of kinds of animals, and lots of kinds of humans. You and me, we've got a couple things in common.'

Faith took a step back, glaring at the older man.

'Like what?'

'Like we both had fun back there.' The elevator doors slid open. 'And we can come to this place and try to fit in and be part of the team, but there's always a piece of us wants to cut loose.' He gestured Faith to join him, and pressed the button. 'And if that goes at the wrong time, the wrong people could get hurt.'

'So how do you make sure it doesn't?' She sounded challenging. Logan could see what she was doing.

'That's Scooter's job.' He glanced down at her. 'He'll make sure that when we need to lose it, it'll happen when there's nobody around can't take it. Who was it, last time?'

'Who was what?'

'Got hurt.'

Very deliberately, Faith turned away from him.

'Where did you get to?' Wesley asked, striding across the parking lot with Cordelia in tow. Sawyer and Bishop, just emerged from their car, turned in unison to regard their civilian consultants.

'Following a lead.' Sawyer responded easily. 'Turned out a dead end. I hope you haven't been too bored.'

'Bored? As if.' Cordelia cut in before the Englishman could speak. 'We found out where Faith was last night. And we've got a security video of the car she turned up in.'

'A… security video?' Asked Bishop.

'From the club parking lot. I mean, yeah, you can barely make out anything, but Wes reckons with a bit of digital work we'll be able to read the licence plate, and then we'll have her.'

Bishop was rapidly running through possibilities and delaying tactics in his mind, secure in the knowledge that, for now at least, Sawyer was on his side.

'It sounds like you hardly need us.' His partner was saying. 'Except to clean up your video tape and run the number, of course.'

'Of course.' Wesley handed over a paper-wrapped package. 'I found a place on Coney Island that allowed me to run off a couple of copies, just in case.' Bishop suppressed a frown. The Englishman was too efficient.

'Did you have any other plans?'

'Nothing worth discussing just yet.' Wesley replied.

Officially, nobody was allowed on the school roof. People generally paid attention to this rule, because the good sense behind it was obvious. Nobody frequented the roof.

Nobody frequented the roof, but that didn't stop people occasionally trying to go up there. The trapdoor onto the roof was locked. There were two only two keys and, as Xavier obviously could not climb the ladder, Scott was the only resident with access.

He no longer slept in the suite he had shared with Jean. His new room was so empty it hurt. The school roof was the place he went to be alone.

Scott lowered the door behind himself and wandered to the edge of the small flat area between the chimneys. He felt tired to the bone, and couldn't work out why – he was well rested and in peak physical condition. He also felt like having a drink, but that would have been a betrayal of his responsibilities. He couldn't go out, not now – he had duties, and he'd attend to them in just a few minutes. He just wanted to clear his head, first.

He sat down with his legs stretched out onto the steep-canted tiles, glanced about, and nearly fell off the roof.

Jubilee, crouched eight feet away with her back against the chimneystack, did not react.

'Jubilee?' Scott said after a moment. The girl looked up at him, scowling as she flipped down her pink shades.

'What?' She sounded angry.

'How did you get up here?'

'Climbed.' She turned away, and Scott nodded, berating himself for the stupid question. Bad enough that the students came complete with dangerous superhuman abilities – far too many of them came with other useful skills, just to season the mix. Jubilee was an Olympic-level gymnast, and could probably have climbed a frozen waterfall.

'Why?' He asked.

'The trap was locked.' Once, this might have been enough to make him smile. Now, he suppressed a slight scowl of irritation.

'Why here?'

'Where else is there? 'Cept you're here.'

'I am actually allowed up here.'

'You don't have to be.'

'I can't leave a student up here alone.'

'Scared I might do something stupid?'

'Well, you don't seem too happy right now.' Jubilee looked up at him.

'Yeah, well. My best friend died over a year ago, and I just found out.' Scott nodded as she turned away once more.

'How did you find out?'

'Her brother found my number in her stuff, and called me.'

'How was he taking it?'

'I didn't ask.' Shades met shades, and she turned her head aside. 'Look, Gunn's not exactly the most… he doesn't like to show…' She trailed off.

'You hung up on him?'

'Hey, I thought your girlfriend was the one with psychic powers…' She clapped her hands over her mouth, flushing red. 'Shit, Mr Summers, I'm sorry.'

Scott reached up and removed his glasses. Jubilee flinched as he turned his closed eyes towards her.

'It's alright, Jubilee.' His voice was perfectly level, his face composed.

For some minutes, neither of them spoke.

'You know, we've got passive monitoring on incoming 'phone calls.' Scott finally broke the silence, settling his glasses back onto his face.

'Huh?'

'I mean, even if he called from a cell phone, we'll have his number registered in the main computer.'

'You think I should call him back?'

'No. I'm just saying you can if you want to.'

'Oh.'

'Shall we go and retrieve his number?'

Jubilee hopped to her feet, and the two of them moved to the trapdoor.

Since starting his school, nine years previously, Professor Charles Xavier had found it necessary to counsel his students over a variety of problems. Of a generation far removed from his charges, he worked hard to understand their viewpoint and to avoid being judgemental, and had come to be accepted as a father figure by the majority. He had also, he thought, encountered almost every problem imaginable, from nightmares caused by childhood abuse to religious issues, from homesickness to homosexuality. He had never face a problem like the girl who now sat before him.

'I've always been able to deal with Erik.' He told Rogue, eliciting a frown. 'Not control, never that. And not predict, either. But we understand each other. If he became angry, I never needed to read his mind to find out why. When I was depressed, he always knew how to bring me out of it. We understood each other.'

'Do you think you still do?' She found herself asking. He ignored her question.

'You are not Erik, obviously. But you are not Marie, either. If you were still Marie, the child that was, I believe that we would have none of these problems. I… have learned to deal with teenagers.' He permitted himself a dry smile. 'I learned rather fast, of necessity. But you are far more than an ordinary, albeit troubled, teenager. Your powers have granted you a difference of perspective.' He paused; it was clear that she had something to say.

'It's just… seriously weird, you know? I look at you, and I see this old guy who teaches me. But there's a little piece of my head sees…' Rogue blushed, and Xavier nodded.

'I understand. Please, continue.' She gave him a grateful smile.

'I mean, I look at Bobby, and I see this tall, cute guy who I'm dating. But I also kind of see him as potential going to waste. I look at Kitty, and I see a friend with a great sense of humour and no conception of how to dress, and I also see a potential tool of immense value. I look at Remy… He's gorgeous. And dangerous. And he threatens my life – the closest thing I'll probably ever have to a normal life, anyway – just by existing. And there's no part of me that doesn't see him this way.' Xavier considered pursuing this for a moment, but decided to get to the point.

'And Faith?'

Faith. Faith was like Remy, in some ways. Faith's every action changes things. And Logan – or the memory Logan – really, really wants to fuck her. Erik sees her as a weapon, a blunt instrument, Sabretooth with a little more refinement. And she slept with Remy, and Rogue's really not happy about that, and she can't tell how much is Logan angry about being one-upped, and how much is Magneto not wanting potential followers forming alliances, and how much is her, just being jealous. And she feels guilty, because she's got Bobby, and she shouldn't be getting this jealous over another boy. But the worst of it isn't that Faith got there first. It's that Faith can get there at all.

Xavier realised, belatedly, that she had said none of the above out loud. He would have to work with her on shielding.

'Faith just rubs me the wrong way.' Was what actually came out. Xavier nodded, suddenly uncertain.

'Yeah?'

Gunn, it's me.'

'Jubilee? How the hell did you get this number?'

'Caller ID. Really high-tech caller ID.'

'Oh.'

'So… you wanna talk about it?'

'It was a long time ago, Jubes.'

'Not for me.' There was a long silence. 'Still can't talk about it, huh?'

'How's that school of yours?'

'Crazy. But cool. There's some good people here, Gunn. You'd probably hate them all. They get mad over really petty things.'

'Like how?' He was trying for amused curiosity, and almost managed it.

'Rogue is being, like, a total hosebeast, 'cause Remy, who isn't even her boyfriend, went and slept with Faith, who's this new girl. She's kinda crazy, but cool. You'd like her.'

'Faith? Now, there's a coincidence. You remember those dorks I said I was working for?'

'Uh… no. Hold it. You're working for somebody? You're working for somebody?' It wasn't quite the reaction he was expecting. Jubilee sounded slightly angry at the change.

'Yeah.'

'What happened?'

'What do you mean, what happened?'

'Alonna gets killed. You have to stake her. You're working for somebody. Please fill in the blanks.' She was more than slightly angry, now.

'That'll take a while.'

'I've got time. Haven't you?'

The external telephone in the school laboratory rang very seldom, so when it did Hank answered it formally.

'Xavier Institute, Dr McCoy speaking.'

'Hey, Blue. The student line's been engaged for an hour straight. What's up?'

'In reverse order, Robert, I don't know and please don't call me Blue.'

'Why not? I mean, you are blue now, Hank.'

'I prefer to pretend that this is a strictly transitory state of affairs, Robert.'

'No luck finding a cure?'

'None, alas. It would appear that the alterations effected by the schemings of the malevolent Stryker and the possession of our own precious Professor have become unalterably imprinted within the composition of my chromosomes.'

'So you're stuck blue?'

'Precisely, Robert.'

'So, like I said, whassup?'

'Very little indeed. I am merely studying the competitive confrontation, whilst imbibing a fermented hops beverage.'

'True.'

'Indubitably.'

'So. Anything crazy happen while I've been away?'

'Our ranks have been swelled.'

'Is she hot?'

'He is six feet in stature, strappingly built, and currently endeavouring to seduce a certain stunning Southern belle.'

'Hank!'

'Yes, Bobby. Faith is, indeed, an attractive young woman. However, I fear that you are far from her favoured form.'

'Wait, let me guess. Is it Mr Logan? Or that new guy, Remy?'

'Remy.'

'Story of my life, right, Hank?'

'Well, you still have Rogue. And she is certainly not to be sneezed at. How did it transpire with your parents?'

'Can we not talk about that right now?'

'They remain unaccommodating?'

'You could say that. Listen, I was thinking I'd come home a few days early. Do you think that would be okay with the Professor?'

'I'm sure it will be, at least if my powers of persuasion have been preserved in this permutation of my physique.'

'… Okay, you were pushing it there.' Hank, alone in the laboratory of his old school, grinned a big, toothy grin.

'Nonsense, Robert. An artist of alliteration can never allow apathy.'

'Ouch.' He could clearly hear that Bobby was grinning too. For a moment, neither spoke, just enjoying listening. Then,

'Bobby?'

'Hank?'

'You said you were coming home.'

'Yeah, well, I can hardly stay here. Ronnie keeps calling the cops and telling them I'm dangerous.'

'A few months ago, you would have believed that where you are now was home.'