* * *

Interestin' that Remy (much more serious about food than me) should be the one ta end up as a bike messenger and Ah (pretty much indestructible) should be the one ta end up as a waitress at Ben's Chili Bowl. Funny enough, Ah liked my job. Ah liked the buildin' it was in that used ta be an old silent movie house complete with red scrolled trim an' old-fashioned signs hangin' out front advertisin' the "world famous chili dog." Th' job made a lot more sense ta me than school used ta sometimes.

Ah rubbed th' counter with a damp cloth an' tried not ta think about what Remy was probably doin' right at that moment. It'd only make me worry. Although Ah was already worried, so Ah guess it'd only make me more worried. Ah was half-mad at John for takin' such a stupid risk, even though Ah guess Ah understood why he thought he had ta take it. Sittin' around waitin' for things ta start happenin' wasn't really our style.

"Hey, Alastair?"

Th' cook poked his head through the kitchen door. He was tall an' broad an' took up most o' the space in front o' the grill. Ah was half afraid an' half admirin' o' him. "What's up?"

"Ah'm gonna duck outside for a minute, okay? The lunch rush won't start for a half hour, right?" Ah untied my red apron an' slipped it off.

Alastair shook his head. "An hour, more like. If you're goin', buy me a pack of Camels." He dug in his pocket and tossed me a few crumpled bills. Ah snatched 'em outta th' air. They were damp an' smelled like hamburger grease. Ah musta made a face, 'cause Alastair laughed, his teeth bright white against his dark skin.

"These're almost enough ta turn me vegetarian." Ah waggled th' money at him.

"Hey, we got vegetarian chili too," Alastair pointed out.

On my way outside, Ah grabbed a handful o' chalky, pastel mints from the dish at the side o' the register an' popped 'em in my mouth. There was a small convenience store on th' corner. They sold cigarettes ta me without any fuss an' they had a payphone out front. Small miracle since those particular kinds o' phones're a rapidly vanishin' breed. Th' warm pre-summer air felt good on my face. It was always a little cold in the restaurant.

Ah checked my watch before punchin' in the complicated series o' numbers on my callin' card. Seemed ta ring forever an' Ah was about ta hang up when there was a click at th' other end an' a breathless, "Hello?"

"Kitty."

"Oh my god!" Her voice was so loud Ah had ta hold the phone away from my ear, but Ah couldn't help the wide smile that made my cheeks ache. "Oh my god! Rogue!"

"Shhh! Ah'm sure there're people in Texas who haven't heard ya, but in the interests o' my ears..."

Kitty made a dubious noise. "I wish I could reach through the phone and, like, pop you one. Why didn't you write? I mean, I can understand if you didn't want to to the Professor or someone, but what about me and Kurt? We're both totally dying of boredom."

Felt a stab o' guilt at that. "Sorry. We were travelin' for awhile an' then we only just got settled here." A police car raced past, siren blarin'.

"And just where might 'here' be?" she demanded sharply.

"Ah don't know if Ah should tell ya."

Ya could practically hear her eyes roll. "Whatever. It's not like I'm gonna rush out there and beg you to come back or anything. I'm just curious."

Ah looked at my watch. It'd be time ta get back ta work soon, but for th' moment Ah let my curiosity get th' better of me. "Anythin' interestin' happen while Ah've been gone? Besides you an' Kurt dyin' a slow, borin' death."

"When did I ever say it was slow?" Kitty shot back. "Fast boredom is totally the worst." Thankfully, it seemed that Kitty wasn't gonna press th' location issue, although she took her sweet time answerin' my question. "We got a new student," she said finally. "Two actually."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. These two British chicks. Betsy and Emma. Fights like you wouldn't believe. Sometimes I think it's a good thing, 'cause Scott uses all his energy just, like, trying to get them to behave."

Ah had ta chuckle at that. "Scott always did try ta bring the mountain ta Mohammed, huh?"

"What, Scott 'There's an easy way?' Summers? Nah." Kitty giggled. "Anyway, Bobby's got this huge crush on Betsy and so he's acting all goofy. Well, goofier than normal."

"What about you?"

"Me?"

"Yeah."

"Oh, well, classes are a lot harder this year. AP physics and I don't seem to be getting along too well. I got into advanced woodshop..." she left th' end hangin', filled with all sorts o' things Ah knew Ah shouldn't disturb.

Only, it was th' first time Ah'd talked with her in months an' months an' Ah couldn't help disturbin' 'em. "Guess Lance got in too."

"She shoots. She scores," Kitty replied flatly.

"And?"

"And nothing. We're friends now, I guess."

"But?"

"But nothing. I mean, I feel bad about yelling at him and stuff, but how do you even apologize for something that happened a year and a half ago?"

"Startin' with 'Ah'm sorry' might help."

"Yeah," Kitty said ruefully. "I don't know if I'm ready for that yet."

"If Ah were there, ya know Ah'd be kickin' your ass right about now, right?"

"Yeah, well, you're not here." It would've been too easy ta imagine that th' bitterness in her voice was all in my head. "How's Remy?"

"Pretty much th' same. Th' red eyes're harder for him ta deal with than Ah thought they might be."

"Is he in trouble?"

"Not yet, but Ah think he might be headed that way. He cain't blend in as well as he used ta. Not with those eyes."

"Is there anything I can do?"

Ah started ta shake my head before Ah remembered that Kitty couldn't see me. If Ah unfocused my eyes, all o' U Street that Ah could see became a pretty watercolor blur. "Actually, if ya'd let me copy your notes, that'd be great."

"What?"

Ah quickly explained what Ah was after an' Kitty seemed ta think it was worth a shot. Ah gave her our address an' she faithfully promised ta mail th' information out after school.

"Speakin' of which, aren't ya supposed ta be in class right now?"

"Yeah, I guess I kind of am."

"An' what are ya missin' just so we can run our mouths?"

"Physics," she replied, not botherin' ta hide her joy. Ah laughed, hung up an' did my best ta swallow th' lump in my throat.

By th' time Ah got back ta the restaurant with Alastair's cigarettes, th' first o' the lunchtime crowd had started ta trickle in. Ah pulled on my apron an' tied it tightly around my waist. Those hours passed in a blur, but when they were done, Ah had a nice pile o' tips. Ah'd been pretty pleased ta discover that Ah was all but a natural at the whole waitressin' thing. Somethin' about keepin' people at arm's length but still pretendin' ta be friendly.

By four o'clock the place had cleared out again. Ah was dead tired an' my feet had gone numb from so much standin'. Ah traded Alastair his Camels for my own belated lunch. He handed it to me on his way outside, where he sat on th' sidewalk an' smoked peacefully, his back pressed tight against th' plate glass. Starvin', Ah took a bite o' my burger an' was surprised ta discover it was the vegetarian kind. Ah chewed slowly an' then laughed for a long time. Outside, Alastair turned ta look at me an' winked.

* * *

When y' say dat an organization is "grassroots" dere are certain t'ings y' expect: Cesar Chavez out in de fields and on de picket lines. Or Eugene Debs campaigning for President from his jail cell or de back of a Pullman train car. Everyt'ing's all folk music and gritted-teeth idealism. What y' don't expect is a security system dat might make Fort Knox jealous wired into a rowhouse dat barely seems worth de effort.

Figured dat security told de truer story and, all t'ings being equal, I was pretty glad dat I was dere in a professional capacity. Quick examination of de outside revealed at least four motion-activated cameras, wiring on each of de windows and motion sensors at de edges of de front lawn. It was chilly on de street, in de shadows of de tulip poplars tall enough t' keep all of de rowhouses in perpetual twilight. I shivered and dat might not have had much t' do wit' de shade.

Dere wasn't a doorbell, and no one answered my knock, so I pushed de door open carefully, not sure what I might find. Made me nervous t' go into anyt'ing so unprepared. Not even John could offer me more dan a brief description -- "Looked like a house t' me." -- and a shrug. Dere were satellite offices in other parts of de city, but de main office was nearest t' Capitol Hill by necessity. No matter what else dey were in secret, de Friends of Humanity were anti-mutant advocates t' de public eye and all advocates had t' keep a presence on de Hill.

Behind de door, I pictured somet'ing like a hive of electronic surveillance equipment, wit' cables strewn in hasty snarls across de floor. Instead, I saw wood floors, stairs leading up t' a darkened second story, wallpaper wit' a print of fat tea roses. Was dim and cool and dere was a faint smell of somet'ing heavy and floral, like incense, in de air. It was utterly silent.

"Hello?" I ventured, almost expecting for my voice t' echo back.

Quick, efficient footsteps sounded from de rear of de house. Someone's heels -- a woman's shoes -- tapping on de wooden floors. Pulled de elastic out of my hair dat I used t' keep it back when I rode. Tugged on de edge of my bike shirt and readjusted de package in my hands.

"Can I help you?" She melted from de shadows, tall and groomed. Slim black suit, blue shirt, blonde hair brushed smoothly into a ponytail at de base of her neck, small pearl earrings in her ears. Instantly, I was on guard. People wit' surfaces so refined are often de most skilled at hiding t'ings.

"I have a package for..." Made a great big show of squinting at de name on de envelope, using it and my hair t' screen my face while I tried t' take more careful stock of de surroundings. Beyond de overall first impression, littler t'ings were starting t' jump out at me. De security system controls were mounted on de far wall, along wit' a panel, almost totally camouflaged in de wallpaper, dat most likely covered video surveillance screens. Small holes drilled into de baseboard were probably parts of some kind of laser grid dat covered de floor. I caught sight of a couple more cameras hidden behind de walls, dere lenses peeking out at de center of some of de tea roses. "...for St. John Rivers." Almost winced at de name. I'd told John it was foolish and stupid, because Jane Eyre wasn't exactly an unknown book and St. John Rivers wasn't exactly a minor character either. He'd only laughed and told me dat people had sentimental parents who gave dem stupid names all de time.

"Just look at th' number of James Bonds in th' world," he'd said. "And every single one of their parents thought it was original and clever, eh?"

"Mebbe so," I'd admitted, knowing dat he was certainly right, but also knowing dat he was missing de point, "but, de idea isn't t' come up wit' a distinctive and recognizable name. De best way t' get away wit' t'ings is not t' get noticed in de first place." I'd squinted at John critically. Wit' his flame of red hair, accent an' brash attitude, he'd never been one t' just fade into de scenery. Dat's one of de reasons we were friends.

"And so what d'you suggest? John Doe?"

"I'm sure dere's a happy medium."

"I'm damn sure I don't care."

Dat had pretty much settled it. John was de one sticking his neck out and so if he wanted t' call himself "St. John Rivers" dat was his call t' make. Even if I did still t'ink it was risky and stupid.

De woman's smooth forehead wrinkled an instant as she t'ought. "I'm sure that name sounds familiar," she said. When her shoulders sank a fraction of an inch, I could tell she'd dropped her guard some. Finally, she seemed t' come t' some kind of decision. "There's no one by that name here, but I can check the records. It'll only take a minute." She spun neatly and disappeared into de back of de house again. Dat silence I'd noticed before fell, thick and muffling, like a velvet curtain.

Each second scraped by slower and slower. Could feel a wiggle of panic in de back of my mind. It was dim in de house, but mebbe not dim enough. What if she saw my eyes? Dey would give me away so easily. I shut dem briefly and tried t' ignore my uneasiness.

Finally, she returned and handed me a slip of paper. "They must have given you the wrong address. St. John Rivers is in our Dupont Circle office. I wrote the address down for you."

"Thanks," I said, trying my best t' make my accent as unnoticeable as possible. No matter what John t'ought, better t' have no distinguishing features.

"You're welcome. Have a nice day." I nodded. She was leaving de room when, seemingly at random, she said, "You know, Jane Eyre was my favorite book when I was younger." Dat rattled me, but not as much as de faint, piercing cry dat came t'rough de front door right after I'd closed it behind me.

Raked my fingers t'rough my hair, successfully willing dem not t' shake. Gathered my hair back into de elastic again, got on my bike and set out t' find John.

Our designated meeting place might have seemed foolish t' someone unfamiliar wit' de powerful disguise of a crowd. A thoroughly planned city, Washington was filled wit' little parks and circles and Dupont Circle was one of de bigger ones. In warm weather, it was always filled wit' bike messengers and old men playing chess and office workers on dere lunch breaks. I slid onto de end of a newly-vacated bench and waited, stretching in de sun like a cat. Soon, I was engrossed by a group of students and dere dogs playing a modified version of Ultimate Frisbee in and around de fountain at de center of de circle. I spent a few idle minutes trying t' figure out de rules t' dere game before giving up completely and deciding dat dere weren't any rules.

Didn't even know John was beside me until de hot dog landed in my lap.

"Putain (fucking hell)!" Was startled more dan anyt'ing. De hot dog was wrapped in foil. Lucky.

John grinned. "Take yer life in yer hands, then?"

Eyed de hot dog dubiously before I unwrapped it. Den I put on my best adoring look and fluttered my eyelashes at John. "Chili and onions! Darling, you know all my favorites!" I exclaimed loudly.

No one around batted an eye. Dupont Circle, besides being crowded wit' young people, was also de biggest homosexual area in de city.

"Just don't expect me t' be kissing ya afterwards," John gritted, dropping into de seat next t' me.

Pretended t' look hurt, but dat only lasted a second. I was starving. "Not as good as Ben's," I managed around bites.

"Nothing's as good as Ben's," he agreed. "Here." He pulled a plastic container out of his bag and tossed it to me.

Caught it one-handed and kept eating. "What's dis?"

"Mango lady."

"What?"

"There's a lady who sells fruit on the corner over there," he waved his hand vaguely, "ya get a whole cut up mango for two dollars."

"Good deal."

"And a free banana," he added, pulling it out of his bag too and dancing it t'rough de air and singing a manic little song about free bananas. Had t' stop him right after de song turned dirty.

"Y' kiss your mother wit' dat mouth?"

"Don't kiss anybody with this mouth." He pouted.

"Point taken. Speaking of which, I told you dat St. John Rivers crap would come back t' bite you in de ass."

"Hmm. Not in that fun way, then?"

"Non."

"Hmm." John tilted his head, surveying his own hot dog (mustard and sauerkraut) from all angles. He took a tentative bite.

"De woman at de Hill office recognized de name."

"That's good. Mean's I'm makin' an impression."

"She recognized it from Jane Eyre." Hated it when de boy played stupid.

"Yeah? So? Did ya get a look at the place or not?"

"Like a conspiracy theorist's wet dream."

"Can ya do anything about it?"

Dat was de question, wasn't it? I didn't have de answer right den. "I'm working on it." I stood, dropping de envelope addressed t' him on my seat. "Thanks for de mango. I've got t' get home."

"Yeah?"

"If I don't, Rogue'll be cooking for sure."

His eyes widened wit' genuine horror. John had pretty much forgiven Rogue for shooting him dat time, but I didn't t'ink he'd ever forgive her cooking. He gave me a little shove, leaving a smear of mustard on my shirt. "Better light a fire under your arse then."

Tucked de mango into my bag and headed for home.

* * *

Yes, Virginia, there is a mango lady in Dupont Circle and she does give out free bananas. Also, Ben's Chili Bowl on U Street is a Washington institution. Martin Luther King Jr. ate there! And Duke Ellington! And a million other cool people.

Chrissy: Everyone loves John! C'mon now, admit it! Funny to think about because, as I say, no lines and, dude, he was barely in the comics even before he caught the Legacy Virus and bit the big one. But it is possible to love both John and Remy. I have enough love for everyone!

kaosda: Thanks! I like this cast too. I'm not skilled enough to juggle more than 3 or 4 characters at once. Sigh. Someday maybe I'll be able to do a fic with everyone.

Pyromaniac: John plays a fairly major supporting part in Envie and he's in Une Danse Ronde a bit, in case you ever get the chance. OTOH, the stories are...um...substantial.

Panther Nesmith: Okay, so this is getting out of hand! I leave the fandom for like two months and everyone forgets I exist? [sobs wildly] I promise not to leave for so long ever, ever again! I'm just kidding, of course. So many Evo writers, so many stories. I forget me too sometimes. ;)

Dr. Lauryl: Probably (hopefully?) some of the confusion is because this takes place in a little splinter universe I created over the course of a three story arc. The Cliff's Notes version goes like this:

Rogue and Remy met up after Rogue escaped from Trask, at first they didn't trust each other, then they kind of did. They followed Trask/Magneto/et al. to Genosha but were captured, tattooed and experimented on. Rogue ended up (accidentally) absorbing/killing her friend Jenny (thus giving Rogue the flight/strength she has in the comics). They managed to rescue everyone, but Remy had to go off and deal with some stuff back in New Orleans (read: Mr. Sinister). Family issues, yadda. Rogue eventually came after him. Relationship issues, yadda. They separated again and Remy showed up at the Institute a few months later. Everyone's happy until Rogue starts messing with her powers with disastrous results. Remy (assisted by John) takes a huge risk and saves her. Kitty grows a spine and Kurt acts like a brother. Remy decides that the Institute isn't the right place for him and Rogue decides that she's not quite at home there anymore either. He wants to find out more about the FOH since some of the members tried to kill him and Kurt and they ride off into the sunset to find John, convince him to leave the Acolytes and discover the secrets of the FOH.

Whew. Sorry.

Ryoko and Susannah: Your suggestion for more R/R action is duly noted. I would like to see them get it on more often as well. Sometimes they are not so cooperative. John's crush on Mystique is adapted from something suggested in the comics. It does pop up from time to time. "Action" is my middle name. Pft. Who the hell am I kidding? "Navel-gazing" is my middle name. I just try my best with the action. Off topic, Ryoko, you're an anime nut like me, no? I only ask because, a) your username and b) the Kenshin fic recs. I'm watching Kenshin right now (and patiently waiting for my DVDs to come because the Kenshin dub=baaad).

Neurotic Temptress: You know me too well. But I'm not spilling all my secrets. How else would I delight or entertain (or at least attempt to do both)?

Christy S: See, now that is interesting. I'm sure Graydon will be around one of these days. Hidden pasts are totally fun and exciting. And what is going on in that house on the Hill?

ishandahalf: More theiving and sneakiness and stealthy goings on next chapter. After all, what kind of thief would Remy be if he didn't case the place first? John is totally cool. I only hope he's not in over his bright red head. [frets]

Lace123: I'm front and sideways too! Sorry, bad joke. I'm actually really flattered that you recognize me from writing style alone. Hooray. It's lovely to see everyone back again. [sniff]

missy42: I believe in open endings, I really do. Don't believe in much else, but I do believe in that. I'd be great in Hollywood, writing B-grade slasher movies and whatnot. I should just end everything "THE END?" and be done with it. The thing about writing in a cartoon/comicverse is that there's always more. The genre depends on long storylines that never get resolved. You'll tell me if the stories get too convoluted, right? Thanks.